#banging the rest out so this post can leave that draft hell

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

Black Survival characters as mythological/supernatural creatures

Adela:vampire adela is convincing but you know she could be fae with that sort of “you have already lost” thing she has

Adriana:i want to say fire elemental, but that’s too obvious. it’d be poetic if she were instead something that’s constantly cold like an ice elemental or something

Aiden:he is canonically pretty much a supernatural creature. all i can do is nudge towards son of zeus or suggest he’s that one thing i saw somewhere of a being that turns into electricity and travels in power cords (this parenthesis is of me sending this out. what the fuck is this last bit. i have zero clue)

Alex:i think all secret agents would be shapeshifters or changelings. he does have a lot of This Man Is Unfindable vibes, so he’d probably be a shapeshifter

Arda:so tempted to say he’s the human in the story. but ok i’ll name something. i think he has elf-y vibes. at least immortal. like, he’s the type to have lived through a lot of things to me

Aya:maybe it’s because i think she’s kinda similar to kujou sara genshin impact, but i’m thinking tengu

Barbara:human with tons of metal prosthesis (this is me from the future/present. boy that’s a cyborg. pretty sure i described a cyborg)

Bernice:werewolf. hunter of the night, sad about hurting people, that’s werewolf baby

Camilo:either a siren or a sexy vampire

Cathy:necromancer. god i picture someone being like “h... he’s dead.....” and she cracks her knucles like “i didn’t get my medical license revoked for nothing”

Celine:mage or witch vibes to me. all her spells are fireball

Chiara:the nun enemy in horror games. whether she’d be a ghost, or a demon, or a whatever-the-hell is ambiguous, but that’s what i’m seeing. maybe a fallen angel too. good omens au with emma, see my vision

Chloe:witch. like, wears-a-hat, potion-making, cat-having witch is what i’m picturing except instead of a cat she has a small child

Daniel:i’ve compared him to alucard and dracula and vampires too many times for me to say anything but vampire

Echion:hes kind of a cyborg right. i don’t need to try

Eleven:whatever flutterina from she-ra had going on (me from the present/future again. that’s a forest elf. she-ra has a wiki page)

Eva:yeah this one’s obvious. just. magical girl. there ain’t much to work with

Emma:magical girl skin is compelling but. again. good omens au

Fiora:so much medieval knight slayer of dragon vibes coming out of her

Hart:i got nothing. muse? elf? she’s too Normal Person to read

Hyejin:if she were chinese she’d slay in a danmei so hard. she’d cultivate so hard. so when it comes to korea it’s something akin, i guess. don’t know if i want to deep-dive into korean culture for this

Hyunwoo:i never watched teen wolf but he’d be a werewolf in there. source:dude trust me. but with all his stuff going on i wouldn’t be surprised if he was cursed

Isol:ehehe werewolf isol

Jackie:there’s this one episode of grimm where they reveal jack the ripper is a ghost/demon that just comes back every 100 years and possesses someone to go to murders. i think that’s what she’d be

Jan:too much of a normal human being for me to read as well. he’s maybe the character with the least skins too so no clue. not even a halloween costume, i feel like he’d just wear one of those skeleton full-body costumes and call it a day

Jenny:i think it’d be neat if she were a ghost possessing a theater, or something akin to walpurgisnacht from puella magi madoka magica. but she also has elf vibes since she’s full of herself and pretty and stuff

Johann:cleric. what do you want from me

JP: he’s got to be some sort of trickster spirit. if he’s chinese then there’s definitely a few to pick from there

Laura: her whole character is a sort of fetish so if you append “sexy” to it she could be anything

Lenox:dryad. why? she’s afraid of fire. checkmate

Leon:merman

Li Dailin:she’s so regretful and bitter and self destructive. that’s a wraith baby

Luke:he seems like the sort of shapeshifter to turn into a horse to be inconspicuous

Magnus:dude in greek stories who learns not to dare the gods

Mai:that one pokemon that makes fabric. but well. elf. sure. all skinny vaguely pretty people could be elves

Nadine:werwolf is too obvious. but it’s obvious because it fits too perfectly

Nathapon:my guy is beatrice portinari from ordem paranormal, he can’t remember the rituals they did on him

Nicky:is it cruel of me to name dwarf because she’s short. do i get a short joke pass. if i can laugh at my friend when he says the wind

Rio:elf, i think. archery, general appearance. i think it’d be cute if she wore the Elf Outfit Thing but it included a hood with cat ears. something to consider

Rosalio:soul eater weapon thing but he’s a baseball bat with nails that nobody wants to meister

Rozzi:brazilian legend of the iara is what i’m going with, because honestly there’s enough aspects that work well imo. the summary is that it’s a siren but with ~lore~

Shoichi:man i got nothin. his vampire skin is cool and there’s some symbolism there that works since vampires are either rich aristocrats, gay, or both (me from the future again. he’s also ashamed of himself and wouldn’t want to show his body to his child. that is so vampiristic!!!)

Silvia:whatever quicksilver from the avengers had going on for sure

Sissela:Ghost. It makes too much sense, but I briefly considered jiangshi ig

Sua:i think it’d be cool if she was a library ghost. maybe a dryad that lives on as a book idk, but i think it’d be cool if people entered a library and tried to find a book and this sweet disembodied voice goes “it’s on the top shelf”

Tia:she’s already fuckin marina from monica’s gang, what can i say on this one

William:soul eater weapon thing but he’s a boomerang that also no one wants to meister because william is a strange oddly bitter man

Xiukai:ok i need you guys to stay with me through this one, i’m going somewhere. there’s this one urban legend show that ran years and years ago in brazil, and this one episode is about this big boy house that these girls are staying in for a vacay that one of their boyfriends let them stay in. they dirty the floor and stuff because people be like that, and then they start disappearing. that aforementioned boyfriend explains he lived in this house as a kid, and he was a shitheel as a kid who deliberately made a mess for his maid to clean up, but one day she tripped and died. now her ghost (who isn’t sure she’s dead and just cleans up the house as usual) turns people into framed photos. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT STORY IS, is what i think xiukai would be

Yuki:that one ghost hunter skin is too good for me to be able to imagine him as anything else. i am sorry. i’d love to be like “ah he’d do a good kitsune” or whatever but my mind drifts instantly to him cutting a ghost with a katana

Zahir:i’m like 60% sure he’s already based on a hindu legend so can’t talk too much on that tbh. can’t say for sure since i know very little on that subject but i’m pretty sure they’re basing his backstory off of something

#banging the rest out so this post can leave that draft hell #black survival #black survival game #immortal soul black survival #eternal return black survival

[victoria-daydreams]

The Long Way Home

Chapter Two: Professor?

AN: It’s my birthday and I’m feeling great so I decided to post today rather than tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has taken an interest in this story and thank you for the support!

Trigger Warnings: drug use/abuse, mentions of verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09​, @eiferundruhe​

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

Hank put his head down, "Told you there was no ‘Professor’ here," he remarked with a shrug, starting to clean up a table that was covered in things.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, shocked to see his old mentor in such a state.

Hank stood in silence for a moment deliberating whether he should explain or not. With a sigh he placed a bottle down and looked at the desk below him.

"He lost everything. Raven, Erik, his legs..." Hank trailed off, thinking of someone else that he lost, but he decided it was best not to mention it. "He built the school, the labs...this whole place," he continued, pouring himself a drink. "Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted...and it broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help do something so I designed a serum that treated his spine. Derived from the second formula, that was for me, that controls my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back but he just couldn't take the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs but its not enough...he's just lost too much," Hank looked back up at Logan, and smiled distantly before taking a sip from his glass.

Upstairs, Charles was pouring himself a drink, in an attempt to forget the memories he didn't wish to think of. As he downed a good portion of the alcohol, suddenly, it all came rushing back, the buzzing of hushed tones he so terribly wanted to push away was beginning to torment him.

Charles' arm immediately shot out to reach for a cloth to wrap around his arm. After struggling briefly to tie it around his arm, he pulled it tight with his teeth as his hand shakily reached out to a small table where a syringe and a small vial rested upon. Charles grabbed the needle and the vial of serum before filling the needle with liquid and pressed it into his skin, letting the solution take its effects.

He laid back in his chair and looked over to his nightstand, but he had to look past the countless bottles to see it. There under the only source of light in the dark, musky room was a small, untouched framed photo of Raven. The Raven he knew. The memory of when they first met had rolled through his mind. His mind then drifted to Erik and how he stole Raven from his life. He stole Raven, made her into a completely different person.

But Erik also gave him Claudia. Charles would have probably never met her if it weren't for Erik's vendetta against Sebastian Shaw. But alas she was another loss. Charles remembered the shine in her eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled, and how strong she seemed the way she carried herself. She was a friend to everyone she met.

Charles closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears and the memories of the two people he loved most. Raven and Claudia. He knew he couldn't save Raven on that beach in Cuba, but Claudia, she could've stayed.

Back downstairs, Logan couldn't but feel that Charles and Hank were tiptoeing around someone and he didn't understand why. Logan glanced down at Charles' desk noticing something that he hadn't before. A picture frame lying face down on the desk, reaching his hand out Logan grabbed the silver frame and flipped it to face him. In the picture was a young, African-American woman who couldn't have been no older than twenty-four.

She had neck length black hair that was styled in a windblown look, her bangs parted to the side. She was looking back at the camera with a wide grin, holding an ornament as she decorated a Christmas tree that was in the picture as well. The Charles he knew mentioned a woman he knew long ago before Logan made this journey, a woman who Charles cared for deeply. Claudia. That was the woman's name if Logan remembered correctly, he wondered if they were one and the same.

"So, this is Claudia," Logan commented, looking up from the picture. Hank froze. He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years. By the looks of Hank's expression and his reaction, Logan's suspicions were confirmed. "Heh, I didn't know the professor liked them young," he quipped, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hank snatched the frame away from Logan.,"God, It wasn't like that," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Yes, there was an age gap, but they were very much in love with each other," Hank explained, looking down at the photo briefly and sighing. "They truly made each other happy," he added softly, before placing the photo face down on the desk again.

"What happened between them?"

"Remember that depression I told you that Charles fell into?" Hank asked, resuming his cleaning.

"Yeah,"

"Claudia was there, she was there for all of it. She tried to stick by him, she really did, but she just couldn't take it anymore," Hank paused, as he exchanged a brief look with Logan. "They fought a lot, she was sick of Charles' behavior of being a drunkard. She was tired of feeling more like a maid to Charles than the woman he claimed to love. And well Charles, one moment he's the loving man Claudia fell in love with and in the next he's a mean drunk," Hank explained, picking up empty bottles. "As tough as a woman Claudia is, I knew that some of the things that Charles said got under her skin. She was miserable here, but it all came to a tipping point in 1967," Hank continued, throwing the bottles into a trash bin.

"She left him, didn't she?"

"Yes, by the end of '67 she was gone," Hank answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The night she had left, it felt strangely peaceful. The atmosphere in the mansion didn't feel so heavy. That was until I heard Charles' bedroom door slam open and the both of them shouting. Claudia was done, she was over it. She told Charles that she couldn't keep pretending that they were this happy couple, so for her own sake she was leaving him. She said, if he wanted to remain on his path to self-destruction then be her guest, but she wasn't going to be apart of it. She wasted years of her life trying to help a man who doesn't want it," he recalled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk in behind of him.

Logan frowned, "And how did Charles take that?" he questioned, feeling like he already knew the answer.

"Not well, not well at all," Hank replied, shaking his head again. "He said some pretty hurtful things to her. He told her to go ahead and leave, he didn't need her. Charles called Claudia a 'useless woman' and claimed that maybe he'd be happier if she wasn't here. I...I’ve never seen Claudia look so hurt, so betrayed in all the years I've known her," Hank looked down sadly, now crossing his arms against his chest. "She actually began to tear up and responded quietly saying 'that makes two of us' before she reached down to her finger and slid off her ring and threw it at Charles," Hank sighed, his mind replaying that night.

"Claudia, Claudia, wait! Please, Claudia, just slow down! Please, just listen-" Hank begged.

"Wait! Charles and Claudia were married?" Logan asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"No, just engaged," Hank explained. "They dated for three years, and then Charles proposed to her in '66. As you can tell now, it didn't work out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The last thing Claudia said when she left the mansion was 'this whole thing was a mistake'," Hank added, with a frown as he folded his arms against his chest.

Logan sighed looking at Hank and shook his head. He was sent here for a reason, and now he can't seem to get the job done. He was risking many people's lives if he didn't change this now.

"I'll help you get her," he heard a voice from behind. He smirked and turned around, "Not for any of your future shite, but for her," Charles announced, coming down the stairs.

Logan mused over this and nodded, "Fair enough," he agreed.

"But I'll tell you this. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles questioned, his tone growing bitter.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together," Charles stared at him, surprised at the unexpected words. Logan scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arms together. "You are not going to like this, but you told me, practically begged me to get Claudia as well," Logan added, waiting for Charles' reaction.

He scoffed and shook his head, "That, I cannot do,"

That was a pain he had buried away and didn't wish to dredge back up anytime soon, he felt the same for Raven and that old wound was most definitely raw now. He had managed to control his emotions now whenever Raven was mentioned, to a point. But Claudia? That was something else entirely. She was his first love, the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he almost married.

"Charles, listen to me," Logan told him, looking down. "You are going to regret this just as you did when you told me to get her. If you want to save her, this is your only chance,"

Hank frowned at his words and Charles' angry expression dropped, forming into a sad and confused expression.

"Save her?" Hank asked, asking what Charles was not able to.

Logan nodded turning to look at him, "Claudia didn't make it, she's dead," he informed, shaking his head.

"Dead?" Charles repeated, sounding suddenly breathless from this revelation.

Charles clutched at his chest and inhaled deeply, suddenly not feeling too well. Like the world around him was spinning and he was stationary, Charles closed his eyes, guilt swarming inside him.

"Claudia is dead because of me,"

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Writer’s Workshop: How To End Your Story

How To End Your Story

Guest Poster: Flawedamythyst

We’re in the final furlong before the deadline for the first draft now, so it feels like a good time to talk about endings, and how to bring your story together to create a satisfactory one.

Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too.

How To End Your Story

There are traditionally six types of endings for a story:

Resolved ending - one with no lingering questions or loose ends. (Most murder mysteries and romances fall into this category.)

Unresolved ending - the kind of ending that leaves the reader with more questions than answers. (Usually for books that are part of a series. A lot of the HP books have endings like this.)

Expanded ending - expands the world of the story beyond the events of the narrative itself, with a time jump forward or a change in PoV.

Unexpected ending - a twist ending that the reader doesn’t see coming, but that should seem inevitable in hindsight.

Ambiguous ending - one that’s open to interpretation. Unlike an unresolved one, it leaves things to be interpreted by the reader so they have to decide themselves how it goes.

Tied ending - that brings the story full circle, and ends exactly where it began. Often the case for ‘Hero’s Journey’ type stories, where the hero ends up back home at the end.

You can read more about them here: https://boords.com/storytelling/how-to-end-a-story or here: https://www.masterclass.com/articles/ways-to-end-your-story but also in multiple other articles online just by Googling ‘Six Ways To End A Story’. 

But, of course, they don’t really tell you how to work out which one your story needs, or how to write one of them without falling into any of the traps that ends with an unsatisfying ending.

Motivation

Of course, often the hardest bit with an ending is actually getting there. Losing motivation is so easy, especially when you’re writing something super-long. I know lots of people get motivation by posting as they go and using comments/kudos as a spur, or even just by talking about it on Tumblr or other places and letting other people’s excitement buoy them up, but a Bang event like WHOB doesn’t allow for that. 

I’m going to talk a bit about ways to motivate yourself when you’re having to keep things secret from all but a handful of people, but bear in mind that this is something that really is very individual. Everyone writes for different reasons, and so everyone’s path to staying motivated is different.

For me, I think it comes down to focusing on why am I writing this story to start with? Any time I feel myself flagging, I think back to that reason and re-capture the original feeling I had about it. Often there’s a couple of different reasons. 

For example, when I was writing Look What The Cat Dragged In, my motivations when I wrote the first line were:

I want all of fandom to share with me the image of the Winter Soldier waking Clint up to threaten him while gently cradling a kitten in his hands, and 

I was writing it as a present for @kangofu-cb​. 

So, if I flagged at all, I was able to either reread that moment with Bucky holding the kitten and think ‘wow, I really do thing people will enjoy this mental image’, or I was able to think ‘I want my friend to have a nice thing’, and that helped me drive on and push through.

A lot of my personal motivations come down to ‘I want to share this scene/witty one-liner/visual of Clint pole dancing while dressed as Captain America with people’, so often just rereading what I’ve already done is really motivating for me, plus it also gives me the chance to see just how much I’ve already done, and what I would be dooming to be unfinished if I just walked away without pushing through.

You might well have different motivations though, which are equally valid. Maybe you started a fic for this event because you wanted to get a shiny badge, or to do something that your friends were doing, or you wanted to prove to yourself that you could write something longer than usual or outside of your usual wheelhouse. It may feel harder now than it did when you had that first idea, but that doesn’t change why you wanted to do it, and it’s actually easier now than it was when you started, because you’ve already done some of it.

And, if none of those motivations work for you, there’s always spite. ‘Oh, my brain gremlins think I can’t finish this? Fuck those guys, I’m going to prove those assholes so very, very wrong’ is completely how I powered through to finish my first ever novel-length fic, a million years and several fandoms ago. 

Resolution vs Ending

So, let’s move on to the ending itself. 

There are two parts to writing an ending: there’s the plot resolution and how that all gets tied up, and there’s the actual ending of the fic - the last scene, and the last place the reader sees the characters.

Sometimes the resolution happens only at the very end of a story and so those are the same thing, but I tend to think that makes things feel a bit abrupt. Especially for fics, which tend to be more character-driven than mainstream media and so need a wind down on how the characters react to the end of the plot for the reader. (This isn’t always true, of course, some plots do tie up neatly in the final scene. Every story is different and you’re the person best placed to judge what’s needed in your fic.)

So when you’re thinking about the ending, think about both parts. ‘How does this plot resolve itself?’ and ‘where do I want to leave these characters in the readers’ mind’s eye?’

Plotting a Story Resolution

You may well have already got a resolution worked out as part of your planning, but what if that ending doesn’t seem to fit any more, or you realise just as you get to it that you forgot to think about an ending at all and have no idea where to go?

First of all, don’t panic! If the rest of the story is there, you’ll be able to pull together the strands to create the best ending. Trust the bones of your story.

When I’m facing a blank page and no real idea of how I’m getting from the Depths of Despair moment to the happy ending, the first thing I do is reread the whole story in case that sparks a fantastic, fully-formed idea to appear on how to tie it all up. Mostly that doesn’t work, which is always disappointing, but it’s still a good place to start, because you have the whole run of the fic fresh in your head to plan from.

The next thing I do is make a list of all the things that I know definitely need to happen for the plot to be done. These don’t need to be in any particular order at this point and they don’t need to link up, you just need a list of what needs to go into the framework, however minor. ‘Clint wears Bucky’s hoodie and Bucky is smitten’ is a totally valid plot point to include, or even ‘include mention of recurring joke about muffins’. If you know something needs to be resolved but you don’t know how yet, just putting ‘resolve plot point with badgers’ is fine. Hopefully once you’ve started thinking through all the different bits, you’ll work out what’s going to happen to the badgers, and it’ll make sure you know it needs to be included somewhere.

If you have a beta/cheer reader who can help, it’s also super helpful to ask them what they would expect from the ending based on what they’ve read so far, or what elements from earlier in the story they think will be coming back/will turn out to be foreshadowing. Sometimes you’ll find you’ve written the clues to your ending into the earlier bits without really noticing, and you can throw them down on the list to be included as well.

Once you have everything you know needs to be included, you can shift them around into a rough order you think they need to go in, and start filling in the gaps. For example, if ‘Clint gets injured’ is there, you can add in ‘Bucky tends to his wounds’ as the obvious next step and maybe that would be a good time to throw in a muffin joke, and then Clint might need to borrow a hoodie if his shirt has blood on it, so you can tick those bits off as well.

It gets easier to see where the gaps are once you have it written out, even if it’s only things that you already knew would need to happen. Having it down in black and white helps your brain to move pieces around like a jigsaw puzzle, and start extrapolating on what comes in the gaps between.

Make The Ending Fit The Story

Think about what kind of story it’s been so far, and make sure that the ending you come up with fits in with it. 

You’ll know the general feeling that you wanted for the fic when you started writing, so that will give you a solid idea on how the ending needs to go. (Often for me this feeling is ‘schmoopy and loved up’, because I’m a softie. A lot of what I’m doing when I’m writing a fic is just clearing out of the way any obstacles that are going to get in the way of my characters being schmoopy and loved up. When there’s nothing left in the way, that’s when I know it’s the end of the story.)

You also need to keep the tone and pacing of your fic the same, and make sure that your ending matches up so it all feels like it fits together. This includes keeping the pace the same as it had been, no matter how tempting it is to rush through so you can get the thing finished already, or slow right down so you can add in a few thousand more words. 

Along with sticking to the tone you’ve set for the fic, try not to genre-shift - if you’ve written an action-packed zombie apocalypse fic, resolving the plot with domestic schmoop isn’t a great idea. The reader is invested in the style of story that you’ve written so far, so pulling the rug out on them will only give them whiplash, a vague sense of dissatisfaction or a persistent nagging feeling that zombies are about to attack. 

Unless you’ve written a domestic schmoop zombie AU of course, in which case I would read the hell out of it. ‘Curtain!fic but sometimes the undead interrupt’ sounds like a lot of fun.

And finally, make sure you maintain your characterisation. If the ending you want involves your character doing something wildly out-of-character, then that’s not the right ending. (I like to call this an Endgame!Steve ending. No, I’m not over that.) Even if your audience is invested in your story enough to overlook the incongruence, they will be having to overlook it rather than feeling fully invested in the journey you’ve created.

Chekov’s Gun

The most satisfying endings are the ones that tie up most, if not all, of the loose ends, and provide an emotional pay-off equivalent to the build-up. If you’ve been talking about something big that might or might not happen, and then it doesn’t, it’s narratively frustrating. In the same way, if you drop something big in that doesn’t really fit with what went before, it’s going to make the story feel unbalanced. 

Obviously that doesn’t mean you can’t have a surprise or twist ending but even if the reader is surprised by something happening, they still want to feel like they’re reading the same story. They need to look back with hindsight of knowing the twist and see how it fits in, and not how it stands out.

A good rule to follow is the Chekov’s Gun rule: If there’s a gun on the table in the first act, someone needs to shoot it in the second act. If you’ve been teasing something, make sure the pay-off is there.

And, of course, if someone’s going to be firing a gun at the end, go back and make sure it gets mentioned earlier in the story. It doesn’t need to be a heavy-handed anvil, but if you can drop in casual hints about guns earlier in the story, the whole thing feels more cohesive and thought out. No one needs to know that you only put those hints in after you’d finished the whole thing.

Loose Ends

Something I always like to do when I’m plotting exactly how the ending is going to go, is to go back through the whole fic and make a list of anything that feels like it could be a loose end if it didn’t get resolved. (If I’m having a problem working out my ending, often this happens at the same time as writing down all my ending plot points, as I described above.)

Some of those are obvious, like ‘Bucky and Clint need to kiss’, but some are less so. Did Clint think about how much he just wants to be done with all the drama so he can snuggle with his dog? Maybe throw in some Lucky cuddles somewhere in the finale so he gets the emotional pay-off. Has Bucky mentioned really want to punch a bad guy in particular in the face? Give him a chance to smack that asshole around a bit. Has there been a minor relationship drama along the way, like someone leaving their socks lying around? Have them either make a point of putting them away, or the other person just rolling their eyes and accepting it as a part of being with them.

It’s also important to think about where your secondary characters are going to end up, and if it feels like they’ve had an arc that needs resolving. Has there been another pairing with a bit of screen time or some background drama? Give them a chance to make out/make up. Has the bad guy done something that affected one of the other Avengers? Let them have a slice of revenge along the way.

For example, in my plan for Be All You Can Be, one of the original characters I introduced as other soldiers doing Basic Training, Havelka, didn’t turn up again after he’d been kicked back a level to another training unit. When I reread that, it became clear that he needed to prove himself somehow or his arc would be a depressing downward slope partially instigated by Clint and Bucky, so I brought him back at the end to do some First Aid and gave him a line or two to point to how his future was going to go, so the reader knew he was going to be okay.

You don’t have to completely resolve everything of course, and sometimes it is nice to leave a couple of things up to the reader’s imagination, but it’s nice for the reader if there’s a sense of things being tied up in a little bow. 

Ending

So, you’ve resolved your plot, how are you going to handle the actual final ending? 

Depending on how your story has gone, you might not need much after the resolution, or you may need several epilogue-y type scenes just to make sure everything is wrapped up.

Take a moment to think about what feeling you want the reader to take away from the fic. If it’s a romance, do you want to end with a warm fuzz of ‘aw cute’? If it’s been an angsty dig down into Clint or Bucky’s mental health issues, do you want a sense of optimism or catharsis? If there’s been a lot of action and drama, do you want a bit of peace and quiet for your characters to signal it’s all over with?

The best way to end any story is with a sense of hope, even if you’ve not gone for a completely happy ending, or have left yourself open for a sequel with some unresolved plot points. You want the reader to feel at least in some way uplifted. After all, regardless of whatever else has gone before, that’s the emotion they’ll have when they get faced with the Kudos button and the Comment box, so you need them in a good mood, right?

When you know what kind of feeling you want your ending to have, that will give you a major clue as to what the characters should be doing in the final scene.

One thing that can work well is bringing back something from the first scene or two and twisting it to be part of the ending. For example, at the beginning of Be All You Can Be Clint uses the song Make A Man Out Of You from Mulan as a way to torture Bucky, and then at the end, they watch the movie together while snuggling.

You do have to be careful not to be too heavy handed with that, and it doesn’t work in every fic, but I do like the feeling of ‘things coming full circle’ that you can get from doing it.

Afterglow vs. Too Much Ending

I always think that good stories come with a certain amount of ‘afterglow’: Just a scene or two to round things out and give a pointer towards the future. 

For example, in general, I don’t like stories that end with a first kiss, which is one of several reasons I usually find Hollywood romcoms unsatisfying. It feels like too much of a beginning, and leaves too many questions open about how things are actually going to go for the couple in question. As part of a complete ending, it feels more satisfying to have an ‘epilogue’-y type scene afterwards that will give you a sense of how things went from there, even if it’s just a couple of paragraphs about them planning their first date.

I’m sure we can all think of other times we’ve read or watched something and had a moment of ‘oh, was that it?’ after the last sentence/when the credits rolled. Abrupt endings without a bit of afterglow can leave the reader blinking a little and wondering where their damn cuddles are.

That said, you also don’t want to go too far in the opposite direction. If the plot is over, there’s no need to keep going with multiple scenes of fluff or porn that doesn’t really add anything. We don’t need to see their whole lives mapped out, and it can get fairly dull once the tension of the plot is over. Ask yourself if the three chapters of them having sex on every flat surface in their apartment is actually necessary, or if some of them can be cut and used as one-shot sequel/missing scene fics. 

In general if it’s not adding to either the narrative or emotional arcs, try to cap it at a scene or two. Just enough to feel like you’ve had a bit of post-climactic afterglow, but not so much that it’s starting to drag.

In Conclusion…

Ending a fic is, in so many ways, the most satisfying part of writing. You got right the way through your plot to the end! You did all the writing! Your characters made it through to their happy/sad/ambiguous endings! You deserve all the gold stars!

You just want your reader to feel the same way, by making sure the ending fits with what came before, ties up all the ends that need tying up, and leaves them with a deep glow of whatever feeling you want the overall story to convey.

And then you just need to do the editing, but that’s a workshop for another day...

#winterhawk olympic bang #WHOB #winterhawk #writer workshops #writer workshop: endings #guest post #flawedamythyst

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Something Stupid

Word Count: 1,337

Characters: Isaac Lahey, Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin

Pairings: Isaac Lahey x Mccall!Reader

Warnings: small angst, mainly fluff?

A/N: Uhm, did I ever post a fic called Wolf Boy? Cuz I have a draft on google docs but I don’t know (It’s and Isaac Lahey fic)

Masterlist

“Yes, I’m ready to go back to school.” you groaned for the millionth time, convincing your brother and mom.

“Okay, but what if something happens?” Scott asked.

“Like what? I’m surrounded by werewolves everywhere I go. I have a knife with me. Derek and Argent have been training me.” you said, crossing your arms.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Scott said.

“What? Mom, help me out here! I have been home every day for the past 3 weeks. Please.” you begged.

Melissa looked between you and Scott. Scott kept you at home because he thought that the Alpha Pack or the Darach was gonna hurt you. You didn’t really care, knowing you could easily defend yourself, but Scott didn’t agree with you.

“Okay, fine.” Melissa agreed with you.

You gave Scott a smirk.

“What? Mom!” he started.

“Nope! No, no, no, no!” you quickly yelled, grabbing your bag.

“Thanks, Mom!” you yelled before quickly running out of the house.

-----

You took a deep breath as you smiled, walking down the halls.

“(Y/N)” you heard Isaac gasp from behind you.

“Oh look, it’s the giant!” you exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, and ran to you, giving you a hug.

“I missed you so much.” he practically lifted you off the ground, holding you tightly.

You closed your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you replied.

You broke off the hug, holding his hand.

“So how have you been?” he asked.

“I texted you 24/7, I'm pretty sure you know,” you said.

He put his arm around your shoulder as you started walking to your locker.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. So, wanna hang out after school?” he asked, leaning against the lockers.

“No, I have school to catch up on,” you replied, pushing him softly.

“Nerd.” he scrunched his face.

“Asshole. I’ll catch you later, k?” you said, getting your books out.

“Yeah. Love you.” he kissed you and ran off.

Your eyes went wide for a second, realizing what just happened.

Oh dear god

----

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Stiles asked you, sitting next to you on the table.

The rest of the pack gave you a look.

“Shut up. We’re friends,” you replied.

“That’s a lie. And the fact you know who we’re talking about.” Lydia said, sitting on your other side.

“Look, I don’t know and I don't need to know,” you said, looking down.

“I heard and saw,” Lydia whispered in your ear.

“Ugh” you replied.

“Uhm, what? What happened?” Scott asked, using his werewolf skills to be a protective older brother.

“Seriously, it’s nothing.” you gave Lydia a look.

“Well, then I’ll ask him myself.” you looked up, watching Isaac head towards the table.

Your eyes went wide.

“Uhm, I just forgot, I have to go….” you quickly grabbed your things and ran off, leaving a confused pack and slightly embarrassed Isaac.

----

You avoided Isaac for the rest of lunch, going to class. You waited for Lydia to sit next to you, but instead, Isaac did.

You looked around, trying to find another seat, but everywhere was full.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Isaac whispered to you.

“No, we don't. Nothing happened.” you didn't know what to say. You knew you liked Isaac for a while, but there was no way he meant that kiss.

“Yes, something did. Look, I just wanted to say sorry, okay? It was an accident, something stupid. Let’s just forget it ever happened and go back to being friends, okay?” he asked.

You felt your heart shatter.

“Done”, you said softly.

“(Y/N), Isaac, detention.” you heard your teacher say.

“For what?!” you exclaimed.

“Talking. Class has already begun.” you looked at the clock.

40 seconds ago?! Are you kidding me?!

You rolled your eyes but kept your mouths shut.

-----

You walked into detention, seeing Isaac was there. You took a deep breath and sighed as he motioned for you to sit next to him.

Instead, you sat in front of him, thinking.

There was no way you could be mad at him, you knew the kiss was a mistake the second it happened. But hearing him say it, hurt you. As much as you didn't want it to, it still hurt you.

“(Y/N), Isaac, you can restock the Janitor’s closet.” you heard your teacher say.

You quickly raised your hand.

“Uhm, does it have to be with him?” you asked.

“Now that I know you’d prefer now too, then yes, it does.” he gave you a smile.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the closet.

“(Y/N),” Isaac said to you.

You ignored him, doing what you had to do.

“(Y/N), god! I said I was sorry what more do you want?!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not mad at you Isaac!” you nearly shouted.

“Yes, you are! I can read you, (Y/N)! You’re clearly pissed at me because I kissed you! I already told you! It was an accident! It meant nothing!” he groaned.

“I’m not mad-” you sighed.

“Yes you are!” he exasperated.

“I’m not mad that you kissed me! I’m mad because-” you started, before stopping yourself.

“Why? Why are you mad then?” he asked.

You sighed. You could speak, or you could keep quiet.

“(Y/N),” he said.

“I’m mad because you regretted it!” you exclaimed.

“W-What?” he stuttered.

“Can we just ignore it, okay?” you sighed.

“But you can't like me! Me?!” he exclaimed. 

You gave him a look before signing.

“I mean, you like Stiles!” he said.

“What?!” you almost screamed.

“You! Like Stiles!” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I don't like Stiles! That’s gross!”  you exclaimed, the thought of you and Stiles sent a shiver down your spine.

“What?! B-But I thought you'd never like me!” he exclaimed.

“Wait what do you mean?!” you asked, confused.

“Well….. I like you, (Y/N).” you looked up at him.

“Shut up,” you replied.

“Why?” 

“Because! You like Allison!” you replied.

“I don't like Allison! I like you!” he exclaimed.

“W-What?!” 

As you looked at Isaac, you heard the door slam shut, causing you to jump slightly.

“What? No.” Isaac almost immediately ran to the door, trying to open it.

“Isaac?” you said, concerned, walking to him slowly.

“N-No, I can’t be trapped.”, he said. A few seconds later the lights went out.

“N-No!” he pushed the door, banging on it, trying to open it.

“Isaac, calm down.” you out a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I can't be trapped! Help! Let us out!” he yelled.

“Isaac-” you started. You saw his eyes glow yellow. He was turning.

“Isaac, calm down. Just breathe. It's gonna be okay.” you tried to calm him, stroking his back lightly.

“(Y/N), stand back, please. I don't wanna hurt you.” you could feel him shaking.

“You’re not gonna hurt me. I know you won’t,” you said softly.

He turned, facing you. He stood tall, looking at you. You took a deep breath, looking at him, not sure what was about to happen.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips, holding your hands.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the kiss.

He moved his hands down to your waist, holding you tightly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

You didn't know how long you two were together, but you loved every second of it.

Both of you didn't notice the door finally opening, as you continued holding each other.

“Isaac?! With my sister?!” you heard Scott exclaimed, as you quickly broke the kiss, opening your eyes.

Isaac looked at Scott, and opened his mouth, about to speak.

He quickly pressed a small kill against your lips, before running off.

“Oh hell no! Isaac!” Scott ran after him.

You held in your laughs, or your cries, you couldn't tell your own emotions.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me 10 bucks!” Lydia turned to Stiles.

“You guys bet on it?” you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

“And now it’s our turn to run!”

#teen wolf #teen wolf text #teen wolf fic #teen wolf angst #teen wolf fluff #isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagines #isaac lahey one shot #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey angst #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x mcall!reader #scott mcall #scott mcall imagine #scott mccall x sister!reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #lydia martin #lydia martin imagine

[dajaregambler]

AAside - Gyroaxia Band story - Chapter 4 (full)

Translation of Gyroaxia’s band story from the game ‘Argonavis from Bang Dream! AAside’.

This post contains all parts belonging to Chapter 4.

(Recommendation to read this along the ingame band story, since it’s all fully voiced!)

Part one - “Joint declaration”

-----At GYROAXIA’s sharehouse

Reon: Kenta-san, have you seen this?

Kenta: What?

Reon: How members of Fantôme Iris are dissing us, and that from there fans started to fight each other…

Miyuki: I saw it too. Like, how Fantôme’s comments started it all, although I’m suspicious if they actually did say that

Reon: I was thinking so too but….

Reon: On the contrary, our fans went out to get revenge after Fantôme’s live had ended…

Kenta: I’m aware of it. I had shrugged it off as baseless rumors that would disappear on their own soon.

Kenta: And then it turned out to be a bigger commotion than I had expected it to.

Miyuki: What’re we gonna do? Are we gonna leave it be or

Kenta: The leader of Fantôme shall be coming here tonight. I intend to discuss what we should do about it.

Miyuki: Haha, always first on the move ain’tcha now

Reon: It’d be good if it didn’t influence the voting for the starting live, but…. today they’ll be announcing the results, right

Kenta: What now, are you not confident?

Reon: That’s not….

Miyuki: Well, I’m not worried about our ranking, it just doesn’t feel too good thinking how these strange rumors still out there

Kenta: I’ll be taking care of it. Leave it up to me

Miyuki: Yeah, yeah. Please do so, Kenta-sensei

-

----A few hours later

Felix: ---Then, I shall be taking care of the draft for the statement. Could you verify it for me once I had sent it after returning home as soon as possible?

Kenta: I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll respond as soon as possible.

Felix: I could say the same. Ah… that reminds me, I had forgotten to mention something

Kenta: What may it be?

Felix: Congratulations on reaching first place at the starting live. It’s still an amazing accomplishment, even without the impact of the rumors.

Kenta: Thank you very much. However, I believe that you are not intending to leave things as they are now, right?

Felix: Why of course. We may have ended up last now, but one could say it was a mere warm up for next time.

Felix: It ought to not take long before we get tired of staring down on your backs.

Kenta: …..GYROAXIA will not lose.

Felix: I see… fufu. Now then, I suppose it’s time to---

(Door opening)

Nayuta: Any coffee

Nyankotarou: Nya~

Felix: Good evening, Nayuta. Pardon my intrustion. And hello to you too, you must be Nyankotarou

Nayuta: …..A guest, eh

Kenta: You seem to be well informed, to the point of knowing his cat’s name. 

Felix: Only because I have checked the official blog of your band. A fan ought to know this much, or am I wrong?

Kenta: Haha

Felix: Now, I shall be taking my leave. I would love to sit down and have a nice chat with you when possible, Nayuta

Nayuta: ………

Felix: À bientôt. And to you too, Nyankotarou

Nyankotarou: Nya~

-

Nayuta: …..What did you talk about

Kenta: I had consulted him about what we should do about these baseless rumors. Nothing that should concern you.

Nayuta: ‘Kay

Kenta: Ah, right there is coffee. I’ll go make some right now

Kenta: (Even though I’m doing everything I can to not distract Nayuta with any unnecessary trouble, it has to blow over as soon as it can.)

Kenta: (If... this would put an end to it, though...)

Part two - “Joint interview”

-----At an office

Miyuki: Soft and fluffy chairs, some way too delicious coffee…. at last, the kind of treatment we deserve

Nayuta: ….Oi, Sakaigawa

Miyuki: Mh? What’s up, Nayuta?

Nayuta: It’s time. Let’s leave

Miyuki: Eh? I mean sure it’s been a while since it was supposed to start but… wouldn’t it be good to wait for a bit at least!

Nayuta: Tch….

Miyuki: The management of the Fes had set this interview up for us too. Hold it out just for a bit, okay!

Miyuki: Handling advertising is also an important part for the Fes, didn’t Kenta say so too?

Nayuta: Where is he

Miyuki: He said he suddenly had a meeting to attend and is at the office now

Nayuta: ………

Miyuki: I’ll contact the person in charge too, c’mon sit down!

Interviewer: Excuse me. My sincerest apologies for being late!

Shu: So sorry for bein’ late. Was busy with school an’ all that 

Reiji: Forgive us for making you wait.

Miyuki: Eh? You guys are Epsi’s….

Nayuta: ….What’s the meaning of this

Miyuki: Wasn’t it supposed to be Nayuta’s interview today or...

Interview: Huh? Have we not informed you about it? That it’s a joint interview with the frontmen of the participating bands...

Shu: Aah, that’s ‘cuz I asked to not let ‘em know. Wanted to get a good scare outta ‘em!

Nayuta: ….We gotta leave

Miyuki: Heey hey now! This kinda interview isn’t too bad, is it! And it’s not like you speak a lot on your own to begin with!

Reiji: My deepest apologies for spoiling the mood. Ujigawa has a tendency to enjoy pulling suck pranks...

Shu: Aw c’mon, stop talkin’ as if I’m some lil’ kid

Interviewer: We are very sorry for the lack of communication on our part! I promise it will not take too long, so please….!

Nayuta: ………

-

Interviewer: ----Now then, could you tell us what you think of each other’s bands?

Nayuta: Got nothing

Shu: Eeeh, that’s makin’ me sad. I’mma big fan of Gyro! Nayuta-san’s vocals are a given, but the rest of the band---

Miyuki: Wonder if it’s okay for Nayuta to act like that….

Reiji: Isn’t it more exciting to have an interview with a feeling of tension in the air

Reiji: It’s quite interesting, like Asahi-san himself

Miyuki: Haha… A relief to hear that then

Reiji: ….Speaking of which, that secret live from the other day was exciting too wasn’t it

Reiji: Somehow to the point of Asahi-san collapsing from singing too much….

Miyuki: Hm, aah… that. Yeah, Nayuta just went a bit overboard with giving his all

Reiji: Is his physical condition stable?

Miyuki: All good, good! Not a big deal at all!

Reiji: Then that is fine…. The vocalist collapsing must be undeniably troublesome for the members too.

Miyuki: Well… honestly, what came after that was more troubling than him collapsing

Reiji: Had something happened?

Miyuki: Nah well, it was more silly if anything you know, like a whole coup d’état was being staged! 

Reiji: Coup d'état…. Haha, that does indeed sound quite funny.

Reiji: If you don’t mind, could you tell me more about it?

Part three - “Stand and talk”

Miyuki: ---And with that, the whole coup fell apart. And one way or the other we all got back together again.

Miyuki: See? Told you it was silly, right?

Reiji: ….It’s necessary for the surprise attack to land its mark, if one wants a coup to succeed.

Reiji: For that moment, you have to bow down to those in power and patiently await your turn to strike...

Miyuki: Uum… What’s that about?

Reiji: ….History that I had learned in class about.

Reiji: Either way, thank you very much for talking with me.

Reiji: We’re respectively having our own fair share of issues due the nature of our frontmen, however we shall be doing our best for the Fes going on forward.

Miyuki: Seriously mature for your age, aren’t you….

Nayuta: Let’s leave, Sakaigawa

Miyuki: Sorry, sorry. Got caught up in talking. So, how did that interview go? 

Nayuki: Dunno. You’ll see tomorrow when we get back

Shu: Nayuta-san, good work. Was plenty of fun to talk with you!

Reiji: Thank you for your time too, Sakaigawa-san. I wish you good luck at the live tommorrow.

Miyuki: Ah, hold on Nayuta! Sorry for this, we’ll sit down to talk again some other time

Reiji: ….How did it go with him?

Shu: Wasn’t fun at all. That mister wouldn’ react at all despite pushin’ his buttons

Shu: Anyway, you seem to have heard somethin’ interesting?

Reiji: Yes. Exactly the kind of thing you enjoy.

Reiji: I’ll go collect evidence from the livehouse and hospital at once. I’ll be able to have it done in a few hours.

-

-----At GYROAXIA’s sharehouse

Ryo: Ah, Miyuki-kun and Nayuta, welcome baaack

Kenta: Welcome back, good work today

Miyuki: Huh, you got back too?

Kenta: Yes, it was a simple meeting. More importantly, how did the interview go?

Miyuki: It was… the whole thing turned out different than expected. Nayuta had to do a joint interview with Epsi’s Ujigawa-kun

Kenta: With Ujigawa Shu.... Was there anything strange that happened? 

Miyuki: Nah? It went pretty smoothly, right Nayuta?

Nayuta: Don’t remember. Don’t care

Kenta: Then, that’s fine….

(Door opening)

Reon: Ah, Kenta-san! Did you check online!?

Kenta: What is it, have fans started arguing again?

Miyuki: We commented on it, shouldn’t it have calmed down?

Reon: Not that! Look, it’s about this!

Miyuki: Uuum… “GYROAXIA’s vocalist, Nayuta Asahi has been spotted at the hospital! Troubles arise regarding the continuation of the band”---- 

Ryo: “Which leads to tension between the band members! Are they on the verge of breaking up with LR Fes right around the corner!?”

Miyuki: ...What, what the hell!? Where did all of this come from?

Kenta: I had assumed the possibility about hospital-related rumors spreading but…. not that it would reach about the state of the band itself.

Reon: It’s strange right! And way too detailed! To the point of a coup being mentioned!

Nayuta: ….What’s the meaning of this?

Kenta: I can only think it was one of us that had leaked it. But, how…. doesn’t anyone here remember this?

Miyuki: Think about it, going out of your way to talk about th--

Reiji: If you don’t mind, could you tell me more about it?

Miyuki: ….Eh? Don’t tell me….him!?

Kenta: Is there something you know, Miyuki

Miyuki: ……..Shit! Sure did it this time!!

Part four - “Reiji’s strategy”

Miyuki: While… Nayuta was doing the interview, I had talked to Epsi’s drummer…

Kenta: The drummer…. Karasuma Reiji

Miyuki: But, we didn’t talk too long ago, and I didn’t say anything about Nayuta’s asthma either!?

Kenta: There was more than enough time to spread rumors online about it.

Reon: It’s about an illness, and with how he collapsed at a live, you can make up as much as you want about it….

Kenta: ….There were a lot of awful rumors about Epsi when they were in Kyoto. How they’ll do anything to crush whoever piques their interest, and the like

Kenta: Which makes me suspect that they’re the ones behind our trouble with Fantôme.

Ryo: Why…. why would they do such things?

Kenta: To cut down the amount of rivals for the Fes…. I wouldn’t know for any other reason why.

Reon: Still, to go like that about it… it’s way too foul!

Kenta: They’re still middle and highschool students, but have plenty of funds and human connections to make use of.

Kenta: An example of what happens when a child who doesn’t know any better becomes drunk on power, I suppose

Nayuta: ……….

Miyuki: Goddamnit….!!

Reon: What do we do? Make another statement?

Kenta: Compared to last time, these rumors aren’t completely baseless. Any wrong moves will increase our amount of problems….

Miyuki: I’m sorry, everyone…. All because I just can’t keep my mouth shut….

Kenta: Apologies are for later. We need to focus on what to do about this right now...

Nayuta: Ain’t gonna do a thing

Miyuki: ...Eh?

Nayuta: We’re gonna rehearse. Get ready

Reon: Is it really fine to just leave it at that!?

Nayuta: Don’t give enough of a fuck to play around with some shitty brat

Kenta: Still… will the fans agree to it?

Nayuta: As if I know

Reon: “As if” you say….

Ryo: Then… wouldn’t it be better to admit to everything?

Miyuki: …..Eeeeh!?

Ryo: Let’s admit it at the beginning of the live. About Nayuta’s illness, and our coup d’état too

Kenta: …..Isn’t that asking to invite even more chaos?

Ryo: It’ll be all good!

Reon: How even

Ryo: ‘Cuz we’ll be doing a live right after it?

Ryo: Once our live starts, everyone’s worries will fly right out of the window and they’ll become happy!

Miyuki: What’s with that…

Kenta: ….I see

Reon: You’re agreeing with him!?

Kenta: Because… it might be a chance to demonstrate our power. Rumors and facts, GYROAXIA’s music will bring it all to the ground

Kenta: If it goes smoothly, we’d be back on track for the Fes...

Nayuta: ……..

Miyuki: Nayuta, I’m sorry…. It’s my fault that your fans came to know about your illness…..

Miyuki: But, it’s as Ryo and Kenta said… If it’s with you…. with our performance, everything will be blown away

Nayuta: Cut it out with the whining….

Reon: You’re so….!

Nayuta: I’m only gonna sing

Part five - “What about it?”

----At the livehouse

Gyro fan A: Hey, did you see it? Those rumors online. Like, “Gyro in a crisis of disbanding” and all… 

Gyro fan B: Isn’t that fake? And, Nayuta’s illness….

Gyro fan A: Yeah but… there’s also how Nayuta collapsed during the last song at this secret live the other day, right?

Gyro fan B: Yeah… and it does seem that the members often fight too….

Nayuta: …...Listen

Gyro fan A: Eh…. He’s gonna talk? Isn’t this unusual!?

Nayuta: Everything online, those shitty rumors--- All of it is true

Nayuta: I have a respiratory disease. There’s guys that started going on about quitting

Nayuta: But… what about it?

Nayuta: Even if I fall, I’ll sing. Even on my own, I’ll sing.

Nayuta: As long as I live

Nayuta: …...GYROAXIA

-

Reon: (All you had to say or what… still… it really fired up everyone!)

Miyuki: (Amazing, eh… that it wasn’t “us” either.)

Ryo: (Yeah, this feels nice… everyone looks happy)

Kenta: (Go, Nayuta…. crush them….!)

-

Gyro fan A: GYROOO!!!

Gyro fan B: NAYUTAAA!!

Gyro fan A: Hey, is that illness part true!? He’s still going at full power during the encore!!

Gyro fan B: The instrumental part was amazing too! No way that they’re breaking up!

Ryo: Aah, how nice… this kind of atmosphere… it’s very happy….

Reon: Haah..haah.. alright! The best performance…. yes… yes!!

Miyuki: Fuuh... for real, he’s some kinda monster... the fact that he pulled off a live beyond flawless

Kenta: You did it, Nayuta…. Alright, time to wrap it up

Nayuta: …….

Kenta: Nayuta….?

Nayuta: Oi… dunno if you’re here… some damned guy that has the nerve to pull some shit---

Nayuta: Whatever you wanna do, don’t drag me in it

Nayuta: That shit won’t crush my music

Nayuta: Still, you’re an eyesore. Don’t get in my way a second time. And if you wanna keep going...

Nayuta: I’ll destroy you… at the Fes battle

Miyuki: Haha… As if he’s some pro-wrestler

Reon: He.. was considerably angry

Kenta: Really? Isn’t that---

Ryo: Yeah, it’s the Nayuta that we know

-

Gyro fan A: That was so awesome! But… what Nayuta said at the end there...

Gyro fan B: “I’ll destroy you at the Fes”.... does this mean that a participating band spread rumors?

Gyro fan A: Seriously… that’s straight up awful

Reiji: ………

Reiji: (Failure, huh… No, they turned the tables around….)

Reiji: (There’s many other bands that aren’t this straight-forward… Well, whether it succeeds or not, either is fine.)

Reiji: (As long as Shu has been entertained)

#aaside #gyroaxia #nayuta asahi #kenta satozuka #Miyuki Sakaigawa #Ryo Akebono #Reon Misono

[ironxkid]

why don't you like endgame or civil war

((hoo buddy, idk what brought this up but salt under the cut!! Like... a lot of salt - specifically regarding Endgame lmao

I’m gonna start off with CACW because it’s a short response lol

I don’t like it simply because I was done with the infighting between the Avengers. The found family crumbs we were given in Endgame was something I really wanted to see, and them just... ripping them apart frustrated me lol

honestly, the movie was... fine? Idk, I found it to be a lil slow for my taste (it felt like it just dragged on when I watched it in theaters), and I just don’t care for it in general  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, ngl, I’m really bummed that Captain America: Serpent Society was a joke announcement because that sounds dope as hell and I really wanted to see that before I realized it’d been a joke dfgjhdsfhj

but, yeah, literally just because CACW is specifically an infighting movie annoys me to no end so I just won’t watch it again dgsfjhsfdhj

now, Endgame?

fuck Endgame

I. have a lot of issues with it, all of which are major grievances throughout the fandom. I’m pissed they killed Natasha and didn’t even bother giving her a fucking funeral because, I quote from Joe Russo, “Well, Tony does not have another movie. Tony is done. And Natasha has another film. And Marvel Universe obviously does not have to move forward linearly anymore. But that character still has more screen time coming.” (see here) and that annoys the hell out of me. She’s getting another movie - great! So you killed one of the few characters doing her fucking best to keep everything together at the compound, the one who was taking charge, give her a big role, and then murk her and... give her nothing but a brief mention at the end. Like... what the fuck? Natasha deserved so much better than what she was given. Tony’s funeral could’ve (and, frankly, should’ve) been a funeral for him, Natasha, and Vision because god forbid we see anyone mourn Vision other than Wanda

(actually this post covers how Endgame fucked over the MCU women perfectly, though Wanda’s not mentioned :c )

plus... Tony’s not done lol - he’s still a massive figure in the films/shows despite RDJ not acting in them, so his character has left shockwaves that aren’t dying any time soon. Natasha... basically disappeared, and I believe she would’ve been dropped completely if it wasn’t for the fact she does have a film coming out soon. Which, frankly, seems awesome and all, but it’s a film that goes back to post-CACW pre-IW and... frankly doesn’t give me any reason to understand why that means she didn’t get a funeral. She’s not coming back in future movies/shows that are in present MCU timeline - her movie is set in the past. She could’ve gotten a decent sendoff 

now, Clint’s arc as Ronin rubs me the wrong way. I know it’s a huge thing in the comics, and it’s not him taking a different mantle that I have an issue with. It’s the fact he, a white man, went around murdering people and got off scot-free. Yes, he was targeting genuinely bad people, but... to show that, they specifically singled out Mexican cartels and the yakuza (Japanese mafia, essentially) - so, in other words, the bad guys were people of color! I feel like I don’t need to explain how fucked up that is. And, to clarify, I love Clint! Clint is honestly one of my favorite characters, and the whole thing was just handled... poorly in the film

Tony’s arc genuinely hurts. This is a man who has suffered for years and has tried to make things right, and finally got a chance to settle down. He finally retired from the Avengers, finally settled down, and had a fucking life he could enjoy despite his ghosts, and yet... His arc ends with a message of “tortured soul finally gets rest by dying”. Because, y’know, it’s great seeing yet another long-suffering character only reaching peace through death, because god forbid they let characters heal! He could’ve still caused the second Snap, and he could’ve survived. He could’ve finally been able to step away for good and focus on his family, focus on recovering, and be truly happy. What’s so wrong with letting him stay alive so he can rest and be with his family? What’s so wrong with letting a long-suffering character finally find peace after one last bang? 

plus it pisses me off that they’re now using him as a reasoning as to why bad things are still happening. Why is this person the bad guy? Because Tony Stark somehow may or may not have done something that hurt them! Even though most of that really stems from Howard or Obadiah. Tony just ends up getting the blame in their place. He’s just an easy target to use, much like the tesseract seems to be the go-to answer for why things go wrong. But this is a different train of thought

Steve’s ending pisses me off just as much as the next person lmao. You take a character who has acknowledged he no longer belongs in the past (which, funnily enough, was written by the Russos), aaaaaaand have him go back to the past while ignoring two important people in his life that were still right there. He got Bucky and Sam back, and he leaves them. His arc is ruined within a matter of minutes, and it paints a hella bad picture of him in the process. He goes back in time to stay with Peggy (which ultimately destroys her own arc, and the fact she’s a person outside of her relationship (or lack thereof) with him because, y’know, why have her be able to move on and be her own person?), and we’re supposed to believe he’s fine with everything he knows from the future? Fine with knowing Bucky’s trapped with HYDRA and is suffering as the Winter Soldier? Fine with knowing HYDRA has infested SHIELD from day one? Fine with knowing Howard and Maria are going to die? Fine with royally fucking up the timelines? We’re supposed to believe he sat back and did nothing with all of that? They could’ve had him still hand the shield over to Sam - they could’ve let Steve stay an Avenger without the mantle

also the fact the Russos said he didn’t recognize Red Skull when he returned to Vormir to return the soul stone? Like... what the fuck?? Not to mention he literally returns the stone to Vormir, which “soul for a soul”, and they didn’t bring Nat back that way??

and now onto Thor. Thor... holy fuck is this hitting something personal for me. Thor was ridden with guilt - he was furious with himself, hated himself, and blamed himself for failing to stop the Snap. He fell into a massive depression, and... was promptly danced around as laughing stock. Like, “oh! look at Thor! he’s fat and drunk because he’s depressed haha!” - like fuck off. It’s not funny in any form. His suffering was made into a joke and it pisses me off because I suffer from depression. A lot of people suffer from depression. It’s not funny. It’s fucking terrifying at times. I wasted a shit ton of money on a stupid online sim game because it was a distraction - it gave me... god, I wouldn’t even say temporary happiness, but it gave me something to temporarily help, and I still hate myself for doing it. It was a poor decision on my part, and I wish I could change it. And, during that time, I was scared because I couldn’t see myself pulling out of it. I thought I was gonna feel that way forever. I called out of work multiple times because there were days I couldn’t stop crying (something I still feel horrible for doing), I couldn’t get myself to contact any of my friends for months, and it was all because the medication I was on at the time... stopped working. Thankfully, my depression doesn’t work in a way that makes me a danger to myself, so that wasn’t an issue, but it still fucking sucked. And to see a character that I could relate to on such a personal level treated as laughing stock fucking hurt. I’m not sharing this for sympathy - I’m sharing this because it Thor’s arc hit home and it’s literally the main reason why I will not watch Endgame again

this is more of a nitpick than anything else, but... I didn’t really care for Carol in it tbh? Which is unfortunately because Captain Marvel is one of my absolute favorite movies! And I’m well aware she was introduced in Endgame while CM was being drafted, but that in itself is annoying?? Because Carol was originally going to be introduced in AoU, but was cut because it wasn’t going to introduce her character properly. And yet they decide to introduce her character in a clusterfuck of a movie before her movie is in the final stages, and proceed to release her movie first and then give a complete different characterization in her following appearance

honestly I just wanna cover this now to clarify some things regarding Carter and her backstory: the only reason I keep Endgame as is is because it felt easier for me to do so for the purpose of bending canon for specific threads. I wanted to stay as true to the given plots as possible to help with fudging of both the movies and her background, and also because I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to force my own headcanons onto them, y’know? 

I’m just gonna plug this here because fuck it lol, but I did start a fix-it fic regarding Endgame that you can read here! I... probably won’t finish it tbh, and I haven��t gone over it in a hot minute so it might be riddled with errors ahah - plus I’m not sure about how I wrote the characters! I get nervous when writing canon characters because I feel like I’ll miss their characterization completely, which is actually why I,,, rarely rp canon characters dgfjhgsfdhj

also the image in the doc was created by @/archervale!! 

#ooc #((I think I covered what I wanted and I hope it makes sense dgjhdfh #I'm pretty tired but I'm doing laundry so I figured I'd answer this while I wait #but yeah I don't care for CACW and I honest to god hate Endgame #the potential is there and it just never reached it)) #((I'm not even gonna touch the Russos directing style #'hey guys we're gonna film a wedding sIKE IT'S A FUNERAL' #like?? MAJORLY different event fellas #also I'm literally going off what I remember from Endgame so I'm sure there's QUITE a bit I'm missing #but I'm not watching it to make a bigger salt post lol #I don't hate watch things because I would much rather watch something I'd enjoy #tbh I don't understand hate watching at all but that's a different conversation gsdfjhdfhj)) #death mention tw #depression tw

[amusedyan]

Mamma Mia

“Are you going to invite your dad?” You look up from the drafted seating chart and the list that’s being compiled. The table is littered with post-it’s and address books, sheets of paper and pencils, even the odd photograph.

Aya, your soon-to-be sister-in-law, examines a photo- one of you and your mother on the front porch. You know that photo, your mother had just bought the house that you would grow up in, and she looks so happy, holding you on her hip.

“I don’t know.” You admit, wanting to drop the subject.

“It’s not every day your daughter gets married,” Aya grins, “you can’t tell me you don’t want to get walked down the aisle by your father.”

And it’s ridiculous, you’re a grown woman now, not a little girl hunched over her desk on Father’s Day, burning with envy as your classmates complain or chat about their other parent.

“I would if I had one.” You finally say, and thankfully that shuts Aya up.

-x-

Once the thought is planted, though, it doesn’t go away.

What would it be like to have a father to walk you down the aisle and give you away?

You turn over in your bed and close your eyes.

You’ve wanted a father before, of course. What little girl doesn’t?

Family is your mother- only your mother. 

When you were a little girl, and you came home from school and asked “where is my Daddy?” your mother had faltered and said, ashamed, “you don’t have one”.

When you got older, your mother had said she’d been young and in over her head. 

Your mom has never not been enough of a parent- and you feel guilty even now for wanting this one thing.

But you burn with that want.

-x-

You feel ashamed, going through your mother’s things in the attic. You have a spare key of course, and you know your mother’s schedule- she likes routine, and Tuesdays are her grocery days. There’s boxes of things up here- old clothes, photo albums, holiday decorations, furniture. In the back, under a sheet, next to the box of old china, though, is what you’re looking for.

Your mother is a journaler. She always has been- “I need to keep my thoughts straight,” she’d explained once. If there’s any clue to your father, it’ll be in her old journals. So you do the math and take the small stack of dusty volumes and leave, locking the door behind you.

Your heart pounds like you’re guilty, because you are, you’re a thief, you broke your mother’s trust and you did something horrible. You feel so guilty, in fact, that you can’t actually bring yourself to read the thing for a week. It just burns a hole in your vision wherever you put it, drawing your gaze to it like a magnet no matter where you put it. So you stow it away in a drawer for that week. When you finally get the nerve to read it, it takes time.

Your mother’s thoughts are personal and warm- she has doodles on the pages, and smudges of ink, or places where the pencil wore away and you have to take your time sussing out the words. You’re terrified that maybe this was all for nothing. Maybe there isn’t a name here, even, and you’ll just have to deal with that.

X/X/XX

I met the sweetest guy today! His name is Oboro, and he has such a nice smile, you wouldn’t believe it. I saw him walk into the store and my heart just jumped! I was trying not to be creepy about it, he’s so pretty, I just wanted to look at him, you know?

But then he came up to me and asked me on a date!

I can’t believe it- it was so easy to talk to him, this is going to be amazing!

Oboro? You jot down the name. It’s still a few months from when you could have reasonably been conceived, but it’s still a name.

X/Y/XX

Oboro took me out for dinner on the water. He’s such a nice guy, he let me talk and didn’t interrupt, didn’t act obnoxious at all! I had such a good time with him, and he wants to go out again!

Mom kept up with that, along with some doodles- unfortunately your Mom isn’t a very good artist, so it’s not very helpful.

After a few pages though, you frown.

X/YY/XX

Oboro introduced me to a couple of his friends today- Hizashi and Shouta. They’re an odd pair. I really wish he’d warned me that I’d be meeting them instead of just springing it on me on date night.

It was a little weird. Apparently they just got back into town, so I offered to leave so they could catch up, but they all wanted to hang out. So they joined us on the date. I mean, they’re nice, but yeah. Awkward. Hizashi is a bit like Oboro, cheerful, I mean. He doesn’t light me up the way Oboro does. Aizawa’s the odd one out, very quiet.

Hm.

You take a break after that, getting up to stretch and rest your eyes. You text your fiancée, eye the journal and your laptop. First names aren’t enough to conduct a search, you reason.

Then you sit back down.

More dates between the four of them. 

Eventually Mom had warmed up to Shouta and Hizashi. They started hanging out casually, after assuring Oboro that it ‘wasn’t like that’. Apparently her boyfriend had laughed and kissed her silly, and told her ‘I know’.

But as the light faded and night encroached, the diary entries started changing. Instead of laughing accounts about her friends and boyfriend, they became jotted notes using, you assumed, surnames.

Aizawa picked me up from work.

Shirakumo was waiting for me at home.

Yamada offered to grocery shop for me.

Car stopped working. Shirakumo picked me up.

Date was crashed. Shirakumo was overjoyed.

Then there were missing entries. Nothing. For weeks.

One more, then the journal was over.

I’m leaving. I can’t take it anymore.

So…

It…it had to be one of them, didn’t it?

You closed the journal and turned to your laptop, your heart pounding.

Things were weird. So weird. What the hell had happened between the four of them? Had the relationship turned toxic? Had Mom fallen out of love? You wanted to ask her, but you were afraid of the fight.

First off, you googled Oboro Shirakumo. Mom referenced Shirakumo as the one she actually dated, so logically speaking, that had to be it, right?

Your first link was an article about an accident.

Young CEO critically injured in mugging, left in coma.

Oboro Shirakumo, founder of company Cloudbreakers was attacked last Friday evening on his way home from work. The attackers hit Shirakumo over the back of the head with what authorities believe is a pipe. The attack has left Shirakumo in the hospital with extensive brain damage, though doctors are noncommittal if the patient will wake up from his coma.

“In a time of grief such as this,” co founder of Cloudbreakers Shouta Aizawa commented on Sunday morning, “we, as a company, can only come together and hope for the best. Our hopes and prayers are with Shirakumo.” 

Shirakumo still hadn’t woken up yet, and it had been years, and while that was tragic, that really answered a big question.

Shouta Aizawa.

So that just left Hizashi Yamada.

Their actual residence was harder to find- but you found articles about the historic houses that they’d bought, and from there you were able to just google that address.

But what do you say?

“Hi, I’m getting married and I think one of you might be my dad? Did you sleep with my mom? Or is Oboro Shirakumo just my dad?”

Worth a shot, right?

-X-

The letters were identical, except for who they were addressed to.

They were fairly formal, introducing yourself, explaining the circumstances, and, obviously your mother’s name- along with formal apologies for Shirakumo’s current state, and apologies about the circumstances and possible misunderstanding.

You sent them off two days later.

-x-

Your phone was ringing.

“Hold on babe, I have to take this,” you apologized, kissing your fiancée on the cheek. The sweetheart that he was, he just grinned and told you to take your time.

You excused yourself from the dining room and answered.

“Hey mom-”

“What did you do???”

You jumped at the volume, in the background there was something banging.

“Is someone at the door-”

“Did you write them?” Your mother demanded, still screaming. It was so loud, was she in danger?

“Mom what’s going on? What is that?”

“You called them- they found me, why? Why would you- AAAAAGUH!” You flinched as she started screaming. “GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE- JUST-”

“MOM?” People were staring, but you felt cold all over. Was she getting murdered? Do you stay on the line or call 911?

“You bitch! You think you can just do what you did? Hide like this?”

“GO! YOU NEED TO HIDE- DON’T LET THEM FIND YOU-”

The phone went dead.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #yamada hizashi #present mic #shirakumo oboro #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere eraserhead #yandere yamada hizashi #yandere present mic #yandere shirakumo oboro

[phoenixrisesoncemore]

I was tagged by @wangxianbunnydoodles (oh my, this is long and you might regret it; also I don’t follow instructions well 😉). I tend not to be very good at these things (sorry to anyone else who has tagged me in these kinds of things before—this is a rare event happening mostly because I wanna talk about Tolkien books and ships) but here goes:

Top 3 Ships

I don’t actively ship characters that often. I’m not sure why that is. I do enjoy reading fic with pairings either canon or not, but I don’t often go “all in” on ships in most narratives I consume. There are notable exceptions (more than three but these are the three most recent—I have no idea how to identify my top ships):

WangXian (CQL). This is surely obvious from the current state of my blog, right? I blame The Untamed and its impossibly tender, only-subtextual-by-a-hair’s-breadth romance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show express ultimate devotion, deep affection, true appreciation, complete understanding (eventually), and the sheer *necessity of the other* between two people quite like this one has. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two characters and desperately wanted them together and happy as much as I have these two, so bravo to the cast and crew for generating such second-hand devotion in me.

Silvergifting (Tolkien). This is all @thearrogantemu’s fault. I’d read some Silvergifting before I read These Gifts That You Have Given Me, mostly out of curiosity (some good stuff, too!), but I had never read any Tolkien fic that convinced me it was *true* (on many, many levels, though the ship level is the one pertinent to this post). In any canon-like universe this ship hurts, but in the Gifts universe it hurts the most; it hurts like Hell. It hurts in the way only razor-sharp, sorry-the-universe-works-this-way, oh-are-those-my-entrails-on-the-floor-I-didn’t-even-feel-the-knife tragedy can hurt. And it’s so convincing that it’s just...a fact now. Tolkien just forgot to tell us. So now I ship Silvergifting, but most deeply, specifically THAT Silvergifting. (Meanwhile, 14 year old me continues to look at *significantly* older me like I’m insane.)

ZeLink (Legend of Zelda). Deep down I’m still 12 years old and no amount of fine lines and wrinkles is going to change that. When is Breath of the Wild 2 coming out?

Last Song

I listen to soundtracks and bombastic and dramatic orchestral pieces much more often than I listen to what people mean when they say “songs,” and a significant chunk of the “songs” I listen to are from musicals/operas.

Earlier today it was Hanz Zimmer’s soundtrack to Dark Phoenix (don’t start me up on the continuing disappointment that Phoenix adaptations continue to be to me—you don’t want to hear it; even I don’t want to hear it).

Before that it was Barbra Streisand’s The Broadway Album. (I prefer her outer space cover of “Somewhere” to the actual thing. Fight me.)

Before that it was Carmina Burana (One of my favorite things ever was when we went to a live performance of Carmina Burana and a boy who couldn’t have been more than 7 years old sat in the aisle in front of us and head-banged enthusiastically through “O Fortuna.” It was so metal. You go, kid. You get it.).

Before that it was a splattering of Billy Joel hits with emphasis on “2000 Years”, “River of Dreams”, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”, “The Stranger”, and “Only the Good Die Young” (thanks to that outstanding WangXian interpretation!).

Of course the soundtracks to The Untamed/CQL have been on repeat for weeks around here, particularly every single iteration of “WuJi” and the flute-heavy instrumental pieces (man, those are good!).

Not long ago I had Sarah Brightman’s covers of “Figlio Perduto” from La Luna and “Glosoli” and “One Day Like This” from Dreamchaser burning through my iPhone battery (yes, I like popera).

Enya, and especially Shepherd Moons and The Track Which Shall Not Be Named has been on repeat a lot.

Last Movie

I don’t sit down to watch movies that often any more. It just takes too much stillness and undivided attention and more resistance to multi-tasking than I have. The actual last movie that I watched (in a “have it on on another screen while I work” kind of way) was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which, of course, I’ve seen umpteen times and which followed a similar rewatch of the Back to the Future trilogy. The last movie I watched completely without distraction was Book Smart; I don’t watch comedies very often, but I really enjoyed it in an “OMG, I can totally relate to this” kind of way (except for the class president thing—that would have required that I interact with other people my own age and also not be homeschooled). Before that I think it was the Tolkien biopic. Man, I still haven’t written anything about that.

Currently Reading (in order of when I started them)

Oh dear.

The Familiar: part 1, Mark Z Danielewski. *sigh* For as much as I think Danielewski is brilliant and House of Leaves is one of my favorite books ever, I’ve just not been able to get into much of his other work. It’s universally a time and energy investment to penetrate and puzzle through, and I just don’t have as much of that as I used to. House of Leaves makes that investment worth it from early on and is absolutely a page-turner once you settle in, but other than The Fifty Year Sword I’ve just not been able to get into the rest of his work. The Familiar: part 1 is supposed to be the first in a 26 part series which is currently halted at part 4, I think. Without a guarantee of all parts ever being published, I don’t think I’m ready to invest more time into part 1 and may end up abandoning it, unfortunately.

History of The Hobbit, Douglas Anderson. Anderson did what Christopher didn’t and gave The Hobbit the HoMe treatment (if a bit less literal and opaque in format). It’s fascinating (I mean, there’s the Beren and Luthien name drop you were not expecting right there in the first draft), but reading essentially the same passages with only small changes over and over can be a slog, so reading it has been an ongoing project for over a year now.

Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World, Verlyn Fleiger. This is Fleiger’s look at Tolkien’s Middle-earth in light of his association with Owen Barfield. Particularly, she is examining Tolkien’s work in conjunction with Barfield’s Poetic Diction and his thoughts on language and meaning. I have not read Poetic Diction, but I probably will now since it apparently addresses language formation as related to the origin of human consciousness which is SO up my alley.

New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton. My late sister-in-law had a masters in theology from Notre Dame and became a huge Merton fan. Meanwhile, my best friend actually spent a weekend retreat at The Abbey of Gethsemani. Between hearing about him from the two of them, I developed an interest in Merton. I happened to read “Moral Theology of the Devil” a couple of years ago. It was one of the most illuminating theological things I have read and deeply inspired my own Tolkien fic-writing (let’s just say the progress there is otherwise slow). This book is a collection of pieces which happens to contain that piece, and I’ve been skipping around through it for a while now.

The Lord of the Rings reread (Tolkien, obviously). I hate this, but I am so deep in so many critical Tolkien books that I’ve not had the chance to really sit down and relax into my reread for months and months and will likely just end up starting over. Plus I want to read it concurrently with the next entry in this list and the next entry is taking longer to get through because of its format. That entry being:

The Lord of the the Rings: A Reader’s Companion, Hammond and Scull. This is a treasure trove of data and insights for those really wanting to dig critically-historically into The Lord of the Rings on a chapter-by-chapter, passage-by-passage basis. The only issue with it is that jumping back and forth between the two (as you have to: this is a reference book) tends to kill the mood of The Lord of the Rings when read as it’s meant to be read: for enjoyment!

The Power of Limits: Proportional Harmonies in Nature, Art, and Architecture, Gyorgy Doczi. This has been an ongoing read here and there since Christmas, especially as I work on two personal projects.

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, Lesslie Newbigin. To be honest I don’t think I am going to finish this one. I like a few of the things he says, things I think are truthful and which need to be confronted in American Christian culture in particular, but it’s just too much Calvin for my taste, too many assumptions I do not share being the heretic that I am, and I spend too much time anger-notating about theology to read it with grace.

In Full Measure I Return to You, thearrogantemu. This is a reread of the (relatively) happy AU fic for my most favoritest Tolkien fic (Gifts), but I’ve put my reread on hold while I finish one of the two projects, after which I am diving in and screw the rest of this list for the time being.

Food Craving

Sushi. My kingdom for some good sushi. I’ve only had sushi once since we got back from NY and while it was the best sushi I have had locally IT WAS NOT OMAKASE AT SUSHI NOZ. It also didn’t require a personal loan to pay for, but *shrug* I’m spoiled now and will forever crave what I can no longer have.

People I’d Like To Get To Know Better

I hate tagging people in these things because I’m awkward and shy and do them so rarely myself that it feels hypocritical for me to ask it of others. That being said: if you’re a follower of my blog and you want to do this, please do! And please tag me! I’d love to get to know more about you 😊.

#getting to know you #wangxianbunnydoodles #tolkien #the untamed #movies #music #books #food

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Ten Dollars

alright, here we go y’all

remember that this is a first draft and i’ve only barely edited it, but comments and reception is heavily appreciated!

(also @rhyseoshaughnessy because they said to) --- There is always a time in someone’s life that’s the lowest, it’s a given. Those who break down from their faults and failures, ones who are toyed with to the point of numbness, the occurrences are common to an individual’s extent. 

However, ultimately the question is how to break away from the cycles, and it takes lifetimes for some to realize. 

It all boils down to the differences in people and what they want to achieve in the end. Though for some that desire is left unknown, or they were left with no certain answers, including Oliver Holguin. 

The day lengthened in time for Oliver by the early morning as per usual. His tired eyes slowly waking as he played through repeated melodies. Practicing throughout the nights, the song ringing out from the ukulele was beautiful to the ears. And as he continued onwards, his sight began to lighten up the bedroom. 

“As lovely as you are, I will have to go,” He sang with whispers tickling his throat. His bed-hair blocked him from catching somebody in the corner of his eyes, though the light greeted him with a shelf of books and a tablet on a nightstand instead of the man.

The complicated tabs and chords flew by with his fingers. The ease of the song left him concluding his mastery. “I’m sorry to let you down.” He rung the last lyrics and strings leaving the room in echoing silence. Taking a moment of pause, he placed the ukulele back to the side. He stood up from his bed. His sore legs fumbled together to go and grab a charger. His tablet turned on to a low percentage once he connected the two together. 

I need to stop using this at night, he thought while he searched for a tablature site. He pulled back his auburn bangs to read better, scrolling through lists of songs to learn. “… I need to find a new site too.” His voice croaked with soreness.

He sighed, letting the device charge. He stretched his joints in a yawn and walked out of his room. His left arm pounded asking for a scratch and reminded him to check the bathroom. The early morning traffic blasted noise through the apartment when he scavenged the cabinet filled with multiple vitamins and medicine. 

His tiny arms tried to recognize the feeling of what he wanted, and he debated on just getting a stool considering his height. However, he finally reached what he was looking for and opened the cap. 

Crap. The ointment cream container held almost nothing. “I have to get more before she finds out,” he muttered. His eyes stuck on the little bottle for seconds until putting it back in its place, ignoring his irritating arm, as well as his always ignored stomach.

***

Oliver sat on his living room couch, doodling on schoolwork and watching television. The velvet cushions pinched him by his skin in discomfort, though he’d been adjusted for years. Cartoons played on an overpriced T.V. as background noise with the occasional screech harming the boy’s ears. He worked with barely a care, only thinking once a question tugged his head hard. Eventually, to no avail he had to turn the entertainment off. What the hell is up with kid shows nowadays, he scowled.

Checking the clock, the arrows pointed to be ten in the morning. Oliver yawned. Twenty minutes of sleep couldn’t cope with boredom. However, from the amount of ‘good sleep’ he had gain from the past days, some rest could be assuring.  

He laid down, resting his body to the cushions he sat on. His mind rang until it blurred, nothing will happen, right?

His heavy eyes shut in only half a second. 

***

The sound of soft sizzles woke Oliver up. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up to see his mother standing in the kitchen across the room. 

“Seems like you were tired?”

Smile, smile. “Yeah, I slept a little late last night by accident.” He scratched his head while forcing a chuckle.

She cut up vegetables from the counter, assuring him, “You know that’s alright. It wasn’t even a school night.” 

The crunch of the plants getting cut up could be heard all the way from where Oliver’s mother stood. Oliver himself checked the time again to find the clock pointed only a half hour after five. Dear god that was a long time. “How come you came home early,” he irked.

“My last patient’s parents called in and said that she wouldn’t come today so my boss said I could take the rest of the day off. Hope she’s alright, though.” She placed her knife down to go and walked over to him. 

“You’re talking about Lavinia, right?”

She sat with him. “Yeah, the one with her phone.”

Oliver eyed her, “Didn’t you say that she’s been starting to act weird?”

“Mhm…,” she drifted, “But you don’t have to worry about that,” she messed Oliver’s hair with her hands. 

“Stop!” Oliver moved her hand away sluggishly, giving a warm smile to her satisfaction. Though her own chortles told him that he did all right. 

She stood up again, shifting back to what she did prior. “So now that I’m back early, do you want to go somewhere?”

Oliver shrugged, “We can go out somewhere if you want, where do you wanna go?”

“Oliver, it’s your choice, not mine. Don’t you want to hang out with a friend from school?” She opened the refrigerator, taking out prepped meat. “Your teachers say you get along with them but you never mention anybody to me.”

“It’s fine, Mom. They’re just kind of…” He avoided her eyes, “people that I wouldn’t hang out with privately.” He tried to laugh it off though his mother’s eyes sent concern instead. 

“Is this about Rowan and Ann? Because you know that that kind of stuff isn’t common-”

“Mom, that was three years ago, I barely remember it.” That’s a lie. “They aren’t the reason. Heck, I didn’t even get along with my class when I skipped a grade.”

“Well,” she placed the meat in a heated pan, “you’re almost eleven and you’re still cooped up in the house all the time.” The meat sizzled in the oil. The scent flowed through the air as they spoke.

“No, I’m not,” Oliver scoffs, “I go out to walk… sometimes at least.”

His mother clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I have to check up on you more often.” Oliver’s eyes widened. “I’ll bring you somewhere later today after I get some paperwork done.”

The boy’s eyes lowered without facing her. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to bring down work. Uh, your patients really like you, don’t they?”

“But I should be taking care of my only kid, shouldn’t I-”

“They’ll miss you,” he interjected, squeezing his vocal tone to be reliable. “Besides, you can get more money to pay the mortgage here faster doing so.”

“Stop making smart words with me.” A click in the stove caught Oliver’s ears. “Anyways, food’s ready.”

After setting plates and utensils, they ate together in a plain table of shiny marble. The meat turned out to be pork chops, and the taste would have been mouthwatering. 

“Ah, this came out perfectly. Hope you like it.” She beamed, taking another bite in the process. 

Oliver cut off another piece, biting his lip. “Yeah, it’s great like always, Mom.”

“You really need to invite a friend over sometime,” she exclaimed. “It’s not fun only cooking for you and me.”

He looked down at the food, sighing, “No clue when that’ll happen.”

They went to venture through stores after lunch, only for Oliver asking to leave an hour in.

***

Oliver skimmed through video posts online, scrolling past multiple in his disinterest. Crying sweats sank through his skin, though he ignored the occasional occurrence. Chirps of his mother babbling at her friends’ calls echoed through the apartment like every other night while Oliver listened in the back of his head.

“No! Jamie, you’re getting the wrong idea,” she snorted. “He’ll bring someone home at some point… hopefully.” The sight of her crooked smile could be imagined by Oliver in a mere second. 

The redhead placed his tablet to the side of his undone bed. A deep breath was enough to function himself, same went for staring at the dull ceiling. 

His mind dimmed from his usual racing thoughts, taking time to go at a complete blank. His hearing and sight blurred spacing out. His eyes continued to close and open, the emptiness making it difficult to keep his eyes open wide. To stay awake, he raised his hand towards the ceiling, using any muscle he had to keep it up. The warm air of the heater blew against his arm and long-sleeve. With every joint and wrinkle on his fingers, all he could observe with thought was his skin, which had paled from his constant brown. 

“Damn.” Oliver clenched his hand. The arm fell down as he hopped out of his bed to the rugged floor with his bare feet. The room was already heated for Oliver, though his decision was an exception to the discomfort. Picked up from an unused chair, the boy dressed himself in a crimson cardigan dangling down to his knees. As he fitted the oversized attire, he nabbed his tablet back to his hands and sat on the floor. “This’ll probably be better,” he slurred.

Reloading the site, a certain video caught Oliver’s eyes:

Alexa Katzmann Found Dead Indoors from Area Death. The thumbnail of news made Oliver’s eyes widen, his cold sweats rising as he clicked with doubt. 

The reporter stated the repeated script about area deaths. Of course, nobody could find the real reason of the death like always. While the woman explained the exact story, the camera panned at the body. Alexa was about five as the news said, daughter of a celebrity, though they censored enough appropriately.  

However, what played over Oliver’s screen made his heart beat faster, louder. 

Alexa’s stomach had been ripped out, blood scattering all over against her clothes and pale skin. Everyone in the room stepped on the organs without realizing they were there. Nobody could see the same scene Oliver viewed. 

He muttered to himself as the video continued to play, “No, no, no…” His breathing grew as his throat continued to burn from the air and panic. 

“This is the first report where an area death has occurred indoors.” Stop saying anything. He stopped the video and tossed over his tablet as his mind raced for answers. 

His scratched his arm over and over, his heart pounding over his ears to the point of needing to scream. “When?” He barely breathed out. “When did-? “

Oliver looked around his room. Now. He jumped at his ukulele case in a split second, unzipping it in barely any time. Fuck the ointment. He reached for an inner pocket, unzipping it until he heard a voice. 

“You really do get scared quick, huh?” The voice stung obnoxiously, making Oliver pause and enter back to reality. 

Oliver twisted his head, still shaking from the previous seconds. His mind already clicked together who it was, however. A taller figure stood right behind him, leaning against the wall with hands behind his back. The man’s messily styled hair and dirty trench coat brought more memory to who he was. The boy took a gulp before completely coming back to his senses. 

“… Why are you here now, Vittorino?”

Vittorino shrugged, popping out of the wall and walking towards him. “I was bored. ‘Wanted to see what you were doing.” His dark eyes darted Oliver’s position. “I see you’re about to have fun,” he scoffed

“Shut up.” Oliver slammed his ukulele case shut. He crawled back over to his bed, turning back on his tablet and biting his lip. Of course, he’s here because of that.

Oliver continued to scroll around on his tablet, his heart still pounding loudly in his head. The screen grabbed Oliver’s attention completely.

“… You know,” Vittorino spoke after Oliver’s ignorance, “You really don’t ever go out.”

His smile could already be seen without looking. “And you mention this because?” Oliver sighed out, his head refusing to turn to Vittorino. He typed up a video to re-watch in attempt to distract himself later on.

“Because are you really going to be cooped up like some nobody?” His tone was readably different from previous conversations, from what Oliver noted. Expectations for what to come next jotted to more limited possibilities. 

 “It’s better like that.” No turn made again.

A grumble could be heard before a sudden, “Come on!” Vittorino appeared right to Oliver, the boy’s body flinched and turned in the process. “Enjoy life a little!”

 Oliver’s shoulders lowered. “You’re being pretty persistent than normal.” 

“Come on, Oliver.” Vittorino dug his hands to his pockets, a sly grin creeping through like always. “Let’s go. Just a walk with me is alright, right?”

Oliver’s eyes squinted, his mind boggling at the possibilities that could happen with the decision, considering the teen-nuisance that is Vittorino. “… Fine.” But just why would he want me to go, was the only question in his mind that moment.

After drudging out of bed and to the living room, Oliver told his mother that he was going off to a walk. Vittorino followed behind him but she made no comment, gladly telling Oliver goodbye without noticing the teen’s existence. 

Obodo City was always a bustling mess.

The tourists running around, the teenagers crying over late trends and messages, the children hyper and shouting at the tall buildings and stores, even loud, annoying traffic that’s at a constant. Oliver paced through the sidewalks, crimson hood over his head as gusts of October winds blew before him. Buildings stood tall and jagged against each other that formed unimaginable shapes in the air. Balconies stood in neighboring apartments filled with laundry or autumn plants, some even blasting music while the owners took a cig. The sounds screamed at the boy’s ears while the scent of street food caught his nose easily. As Oliver’s instincts pressured him to take a bite of something, he refused, his teeth clawing at his lip. 

“So,” Vittorino ignited the conversation, “How’s your day gone so far?” He took no look at Oliver and instead viewed the sites ahead, to Oliver’s bewilderment. The only thing up ahead were greyed alleys and crosswalks, similar to everything else in the city aside from the intense smoke in the area. 

“… Have you been hungry lately?” The man snickered, snatching Oliver’s attention despite the rude comment. 

“I just ate.” He stated, looking ahead himself, “The question wasn’t needed.” 

“Just wondering,” Vittorino bent down to Oliver’s height, still walking, gleaming by Oliver’s sour expression. 

Oliver’s sight of Vittorino disappeared as his figure jumped up in front of the boy in a blink. “You have to admit,” Vittorino said, wrapping a stop sign around his arm. “This city really is awesome to look around in, right?”

“I’ve been here for the past ten years of my life, Vittorino. Best that can happen is controversy protests and holiday decorations.”

“Really? What kind of stuff do you guys decorate?” Vittorino’s brows risen up, curiosity almost purring from him. 

Oliver walked passed him as the crosswalk glowed green. A small crowd surrounded him as he shrugged. “Lights for the most part, nothing special.”

Vittorino appeared right next to him. “Sounds nice.”

Silence covered both of them. Oliver pondered over Vittorino’s past actions as Vittorino turned all over to view the sights of the city. Oliver followed him though the teen stared aimlessly at such miniscule of things. A tiny convenience store barely seen by a tall building and a worn-down restaurant included. Someone older than him being intrigued by such things made Oliver question his identity more than before. 

Entering a cleaner street, Oliver queried, “Vittorino?”

“Hm?” 

“What do you have to do with Faustus?”

The man with the trench coat stopped at his steps. Oliver took a gulp down his throat. 

“Who’s Faustus,” he pondered.

“You know who I’m talking about,” Oliver spatters, “Emo kid, probably sixteen or something by now. Pale skin, white hair, blue eyes but he never shows one of them?”

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about now.” He sneered, “That isn’t actually his name, you know.” 

“I figured,” Oliver murmured. “But aside from that, you have something to do with him, don’t you?”

“And what makes you think that?”

Oliver threw his hands forward. “Nobody except for me can see both of you! That’d be obvious enough.” He crossed his arms. “But you both are weirdos out of anybody that I’ve ever met.” 

“That’s rather judgmental, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out who Zach is and where the hell he went since I was seven. I barely had any kind of way to figure out until you started popping up in my life.” Oliver’s unfastened hood flew out from the wind as he turned his sight to Vittorino’s eyes. He pleaded with brows furrowed, “Just tell me how you guys are related and why you both are really here in the first place.”

Vittorino’s mocking expression deepened. “Well, I guess I can admit one thing.”

“And that is…?” 

“You can say that I’m hanging out with you for two favors,” He raised two fingers down to Oliver, lowering one quickly after, “but one of them is for ‘Faustus’.”

“What was the favor for?” Oliver’s head drifted to the side. 

“One of them was more of an assignment out of anything, actually, but the other was so I could get some favors back.” Vittorino leaned by on a sign pole. “The one that wasn’t from the guy was basically just to check up on you from time to time. The assignment I can’t really tell. It’s about to be done though.”

“I swear to god, if you’re gonna screw me over somehow-”

“Don’t worry,” Vittorino rolled his eyes, “It’ll be beneficial for you.”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t trust that at all.”

Vittorino chuckled and shrugged. “Fine then.” He stepped towards Oliver, slamming something to Oliver’s chest. 

Oliver coughed at the impact, but caught the item he handed. He opened his hands to find a ten-dollar bill. Turning to see Vittorino, he already found the mystery to be walking away from him. He dashed to catch up with him. “Where’d you get this?”

“I asked a guy and he just gave it to me.”

“But nobody can see you…?”

Vittorino lifted a finger. “I can be seen if I want, I just usually hide myself for the sake of it.” He dumped his hands into his pockets. “You needed ointment, right?”

Oliver tensed. “Yes…” he nodded, guilt building up inside of him again. 

“Go buy some then. Get extra stuff if you want,” Vittorino told. “Have fun, kid.” 

He was gone before Oliver could say anything. The red-head was left alone in the street. He looked back to his hand, covered over by a single bill. Pulling up his sleeves, he stared blankly and sighed, a small puff of cold air seeping out of his breath. 

“Might as well.”

-

Next >>>

#my writing #writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #chapter 1 #gore warning #blood warning #implication of self harm #all are kinda minor but just pointing it out #bst oliver #bst vittorino #here we go yall

[popculturebuffet]

Analysis of X: Maurader’s #1 “I’m on a Boat”

Ahoy Muties! I’m Jacob Mattingly and in moving to Tumblr and print, this is my first text review. As for this segment, welcome to Analysis of X, where I cover the dawn of x and onward as it happens. I will get to X-Men #1 as I wasn’t sure wether to review it late or not soon enough, but for now I felt it best to start with Dawn of X’s first non-hickman stab at greatness, Gerry Duggan and Matteo Lolli’s pirate themed Mauraders. Come aboard after the break. 

So Mauraders begins a few months back, with our book’s headliner Kitty Pryde, and her future teammates, close friend and surrogate mom Storm and ex-boyfriend and her best buddy, my faviorite X-Man and organizer for orgies on Krakoa: Nightcrawler, ready to head to Krakoa. For those two of you who didn’t read house of x or couldn’t afford it and powers, understandable the current status quo is simple: Mutantkind has formed it’s own nation on their former enemy Krakoa, the island that walks like a man but currently dosen’t because several people would fall off, and have planted gates globally so mutants can come to their new eden, finally done with all the racist genocidal bullshit mankind has put them through. Kitty tries to come along  But welll....

Instead of letting her in for some reason Krakoa instead says come on and SLAM and your not welcome to the JAM. Kitty takes it well. 

We get our character page, which is apparently NOT limited to Hickman’s work, but I find it a nice touch, and unlike the avengers books from other writers under his tenure not doing the same thing, unify’s things a bit. I also like this opening mystery a ton. Is it her powers? Or is it something else? And how will Doug Ramsey aka Cypher, her former best friend who had a crush on her in the mutant equivalent in high school and Krakoa’s translator factor into this. I hope he does because most Kitty Pryde centric stories kinda forgot he existed entirely, as did New Mutants and All-New X-Factor on the Doug side. Seriously it bugs me as they were incredibly close yet because him being single might get in the way of her and other ships the writers had planned, this was just ignored and hopefully with Doug being a bigger player Duggan won’t ignore him this time, and given how strong this book is I expect this to come up. 

Moving Right along after the intro page, with the wonderful welcome of ahoy muties and a cast page, showing this isn’t exclusive to Hickman’s book and something I like we get a captain’s log of sorts, with the reveal that, with no way to portal there, Kitty just stole a boat, said i’m the captain now (Because you can’t escape that refrence and why would you) and then .. muses a bit about how left behind she feels as seen above. And it’s an intresting dilema: without the portals, how can she ever REALLY feel at home on Krakoa when she’d basically be trapped there, alone amongst everyone else.. and not for the first time. 

Longtime fans or those who’ve binged Claremont’s run will recall this little scene: after taking the bullet for Rouge during Mutant Massacre Kitty was left basically a ghost. No tangeblity, no way to interact, just trapped in a world she could see. While it DID get better from here it was only marginally: she could speak, she could talk.. but for the early part of her days with Excalibur, basically the british X-Men and something i’ll save more for next week, her powers of phasing through objects had reversed. She had to concentrate to stay SOLID and it was hell for her. It eventually righted itself, somehow I haven’t read far enough into Excalibur to know, but it had to leave some scars. The fact it happened AGAIN after that time she made a bullet meant to destroy earth intangiable and was only saved about a year or so later in story, or month given the weird timescale for marvel but moving on, by Magneto.. and left like this AGAIN until right before Schism. So to me, wether intentional or not, and it feels intentional, Kitty’s been isolated and trapped, alone amongst those around her before.. and she probably dosen’t want that again but worse. So she sails to Krakoa unsure with logan’s grocery list in tow. Which gloriously, we get to see. 

And this also explains where the hell the beer used in the big party at the end of HOX and POX came from, though it’s equally likely Logan had magneto steal a beer truck for them and then spent a full day with him carting it all through the gate. But before this gloriousneess Kitty arrives and tries going through the other way. 

So before Kitty, or Kate as she prefers to be known now, gets down to a rousing round of killing a child, Bobby shows up. Kitty assures him her problem is be handled by top men, which your saved from the indiana jones refrence because I can’t find a picture for that, logan goes diving for booze.

Because let’s face it Logan without enough Booze to murder Bojack Horseman just isn’t Logan. Bobby heads into a gate to find out why it has no traffic, while Kitty.. gets a phone call from her good old buddy Emma Frost, white queen. As a refresher the two went from sniping at each other constantly to mutaual respect with still a good deal of pot shots during Joss Whedon’s run on the book. That has not really changed. For those of you just joining us Emma was, and now is again, the white queen of a hellfire club and the first evil mutant kitty ever met, so naturally, shit’s complicated. But the important takeaway is that Emma trusts kitty. And has a job opprotunity for her. Those who read HOX and POX probably know that the ruling council of krakoa has an open chair.. and Emma wants her to .  See these days Emma’s old running buddies in the hellfire club, which she’s now in charge of, are the Hellfire Trading company, a vital economic partner and thus were naturally courted by Xavier as a vital part of Krakoa and shipping the life giving plants Krakoa gives worldwide. Where Kitty Kitty Bang Bang comes in is that not everyone is happy about Krakoa or welcoming of their gates: HOX and POX outright showed some countries refused to partner with them, and even some that have agreed to soverignty have taken to some drastic measures to keep mutants from leaving. 

Yeah, and it makes sense. The Marvel universe was prejudiced against mutants on a GOOD day, and now they’ve outright declared superiority, strong armed their way into acceptance, and want to take all of the rest away to their eden. While they had every right to after multiple, and i’m not exagerating, attempted and two sucessful GENOCIDES, of course they have to play hard ball to get this and of course extremist anti-mutant groups wouldn’t stand for it. But it works because it makes sense: the portals are a big target and several assholes aren’t going to let mutantkind escape their service, or alive, without a fight. So that’s the mission Emma is offering: a seat at the table as Red Queen of Hellfire and a misson saving muties, getting drunk and fightin round the world. And she also, cleverly, juxtoposes her being a pirate with what pirates in the past did: the pirates and traders of old were slavers. Kitty and her crew would be liberators, saving mutants from Humankind, bringing the live saving drugs in even to countries who refused and the mutants out. Speaking of mutants who are out let’s check on Iceman. But first lockheed with a crab. 

Awww. So bobby heads to mother russia.. and finds a nice warm reception. 

Yeah naturally this dosen’t go well. Russia is , unsuprisingly, being a dick about the whole thing and it turns out the asshole’s armor can temporarily depower mutants, so bobby books it back and tells kitty.. who’s Mr. Lahey levels of plastered and gets Storm to tag along on her boat, with Storm likely doing so Kitty dosen’t start declaring that she is the liquor or something. 

We cut to china where a woman is claiming her husband disappeared.. but Bishop shows up looking into it, and claiming he never showed up. She refuses to talk to him and Bishop calls it a night, but like the audience can tell something’s not right, and given he’s on the cover but doesn't join the team this issue, we’ll likely find out soon enough. Meanwhile ON A BOAT. The future Mauraders are filled in that the people surrounding the portal aren’t with the goverment but an extremist group, and find they have a stowaway aboard. 

Yup it’s everyone’s faviorite aussie aronist Pyro, back from the dead after years of being dead, a quick ressurection that reset his character development, and then disappearing and being replaced by one of the very few intresting parts of X-Men gold. I wasn’t even aware he’d been ressurected which shows just how much they gave a shit. Duggan wisely gives him amnesia and reveals the tragic truth of how he came back. 

Yup, true to Xavier’s new regime being one part hope and compassion and another part cold detached dickery, which really isn’t that far from the old regime he’s just open about the last part now, Pyro was only brought back first so the “Important mutants” would be sure to be safe. Even with his actions post ressurection, going back to petty crimin.. even though his death, despite never having read the issue, is still a great moment in X-History. Pyro, having failed several desperate attempts to cheat death at the hands of the Legacy Virus, uses his last moments to save someone who fears and hates him: Senator Kelly.. and in the process until the man’s own death changed the man from Mutantkind’s greatest enemy to a great supporter. And after that great selfless sacrifice... all Xavier and Magneto think of him is a lab rat, an unimportant mutant to use first to make sure their plan works. A throwaway slab of mutant meat. Understandably he was about to slide right back into crime but is instead drafted by storm and likely thinks “Eh, what else am I gonna do. “ So with our roster complete for now, our heroes dive into battle with kitty suggesting they swarm the power suit asshole so she can take him out and it works, but leaves her with just herself, pyro and lockheed to fight back.. and we get one of the best marvel fight scenes in recent history as a result. I’m only showing what’s necessary, but I can’t resisit a few choice shots

The fight as you can see is fast paced, fun, and uses kitty’s powers in creative ways we haven’t seen in some time. It’s been a LONG time since her powers weren’t boiled down to “I can’t be hurt” and “I can disrupt tech by phasing through it” and it is GLORIOUS, with Lolli’s art utterly shining and promising more tasty action and creative fights to come. Also i’d be remiss if I left this out

KItty using lockheed to give pyro a boost and blow away the Calvary. Our heroes win the day, save the grateful mutants the group had been holding from the gulag, and send them home, with all three deciding to stick with her: Pyro because it’s fun and because as established he’s pissed at Xavier and Mags for using him as a lab animal, and Iceman  out of loyalty. With that Kitty has one of the mutants presence pull out her phone and gives one hell of a series, and team, tagline...

The issue closes out with a nice little scene where Kitty asks storm to join her. And while storm, understandably given the last mutant group of maurders caused aforementioned massacre, not crazy about the name, she affirms her loyalty to her old friend’s new cause.. and to her in this beautiful line of dialogue. 

And with that, Kate takes Emma up on her offer and we get a great group shot to close us out. 

Well okay not entirely. Like in powers of x we get some plot revant gossip from bar sinsiter. Mostly just foreshadowing for the future.. that emma may of asked someone before storm, a clan of racists in hoods, and some “red tides” at hellfire bay. nothing to dig into much.  Final Thoughts: An excellent start that I hope keeps going like this. Marauders is one of my faviorite kinds of comics: a quirky team, loads of laughs and great likeable characters. Pyro is an easy faviorite and the book took Kitty from creators pet for Benids and Guggenhiem into new territory while building on what Claremont, Ellis and Whedon started. It’s also a welcome breath of fresh air after the more plot based house and powers to have more character focused stories and reactions to Krakoa and see the world build as we see how the globe is taking the Mutants new status. An excellent addition to what hickman has built. If you liked this follow me for more as i’ll be reviewing X-Men #1 sometime soon, Excalibur #1 next week, and more fun stuff and if there’s something you’d like me to review you can slip me a fiver to commission me for it. Until we meet again my fair muties. 

#mauraders #x-men #kitty pryde #gerry duggan #matteo lolli #dawn of x #house of x #powers of x #iceman #storm #pyro #john allerdyce #bobby drake #ororo munroe #emma frost #white queen #hellfire trading company #wolverine #logan #lockheed #russia #krakoa #doug ramsey #cypher #mutant massacre #excalibur

[monicawoe]

12, 16, 21, 25

for the fanfic end of the year asks meme (thanks @slytherkins !)

12. favorite character to write about this year: It’s a tie between Eddie Brock/Venom and Sam Winchester. Venom fics have been incredibly fun to write and I’ve really been enjoying writing more humorous fics which is something I used to struggle with. But with Supernatural in its last season I also had a serious resurgence of need to write all the Sam fics!

21. most memorable comment/review:  “M A X I M U M T O A S T BABYBOI NO.”…which totally makes sense in context. Venom had some difficulties operating the toaster.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read: Definitely The Holy Grail Bird by @denugis  Not just because she wrote this as a gift fic to me, but because it’s easily one of my favorite fics of all times. This is such an insightful look into Sam and addresses the Winchester’s Chuck Problem so cleverly, but more than that it brought me to tears in the best kind of way, the kind of tears that happen when somebody just gets it so spot on and so beautifully that your heart leaps and aches all at the same time.  If you are a Sam Winchester fan, do yourself a favor and read this immediately if you haven’t yet, and if you’ve already read it, then go read it again

16 fic(s) you completed this year (*saving this one for last since it’s a long response!) I completed 17 fics this year, of which 16 were posted–mainly Supernatural, Venom and MCU. This was such an awesome year for collaborations, big-bangs and fic exchanges. I had the opportunity to work with some truly stellar artists who are all total sweethearts, so thanks again to @sketchydean, @sdeeys, @vebirascanvasand of course @quickreaver for bringing my fics to life so beautifully. Thanks also to everybody whose prompts I filled for various events, and big thanks to my amazing betas for saving me from my own bad writing habits

Links, fic summaries, and gorgeous art banners below the cut!

Supernatural:

Lakeside Fishing - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (Sam/Patrick(S5ep7), 4k words)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.   After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Thirteen Taps of The Ivory Beak - Death is a transient thing. The bird knows this, because she herself is both alive and not. Her creator made her this way, not by choice but because of who he is. (a companion piece to de_nugis’ The Holy Grail Bird, 900 words)

Whosoever Holds - Just when Sam Winchester needs it most, Mjölnir returns to him. But is he really worthy? (2k, gen Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers; MCU/SPN crossover)

The Devil You Knew - Brady, not Azazel, had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped. (1k; an alternate version of Sam’s confrontation with Brady in 5x20)

Wednesday - It’s Wednesday. It’s always Wednesday, he thinks, as he stands up and leaves the motel room, not sparing a glance at the other bed. (2k, Mystery Spot boyKing!Sam AU)

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Venom:

Costume Party - Eddie and Venom are invited to a costume party at the museum. While there, they find a mad scientist in the dinosaur wing who is up to no good. (Symbrock, 5k words)

Reckoning Tartare with a Side of Tater Tots - Eddie Brock is writing a story about Will Graham, a man accused of horrific serial murders. But Eddie’s got a feeling Will is innocent, and somebody else is to blame. When Hannibal Lecter invites Eddie to dinner, Venom is surprised by the menu. (2k words; Venom | Hannibal crossover)

The End Times Are Here (But So Are We) - Eddie Brock crashes his motorcycle near Anathema Device’s Jasmine Cottage. She was expecting him, of course. Agnes Nutter’s prophecy had foretold his coming, just in time for the End of Days. (2k words; Venom | Good Omens crossover)

Asunder - (bigbang featuring art by @sdeeys and @vebirascanvas !) Eddie and Venom have grown accustomed to their new life together. They patrol every night, keeping San Francisco just a little safer, and keeping Venom fed. But one night, they’re captured, and separated. Eddie wakes up to find himself imprisoned in a glass cell and, for the first time in six months, completely alone.  (Symbrock, PG-13, 12k words; written for the @symbrockbigbang)

Midnight Snack - Eight hours is way too long to wait until breakfast. Venom makes snacks while Eddie is sleeping. Unfortunately the toaster gives them some issues. (3k words)

They Say It’s Your Birthday - Venom asks Dan to help throw a surprise birthday party for Eddie. (3k words | written for the chocolate box gift exchange)

Marvel/Captain America

Interstitial Light - After Thanos wiped half of life off the planet, the remaining Avengers find a way to reach out to those they lost, using a combination of Stark-Tech, magic and their own memories. Steve makes contact with Bucky, but they spent too many decades apart when Steve was on ice. But there was somebody else who knew Bucky during that time—who trained with him, who knew both the Winter Soldier and James Barnes: Natasha. | 6k, Natasha, Bucky

Stumble and Fall Into You   -   Three months ago, Steve’s world shattered. SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, people he trusted turned out to be enemies, and Bucky, who he thought he’d lost in 1944, had been alive this whole time. Steve tries to get back to some kind of normalcy, but Bucky is always on his mind, and lately he’s been seeing him everywhere. | 5k, Steve/Bucky

—

The 17th fic I completed this year is my Sam Winchester Big Bang fic, which will be posting early next year. I’ve gotten paired with yet another wonderful artist (I think it’s still supposed to be a secret, but it won’t be for long) and am very excited about this collaboration too!

Might as well make this my end of year stats post as well while I’m at it.

Words so far: 247,305 as of end of November, I’ll probably come in close to 280k by end of year. About a third of these words were posted as fics, the rest were prior drafts and a handful of short stories.

Thematically this was a very cathartic and iddy year for me in fic. Venom fandom gave me the opportunity to tackle things in a totally different way which has been incredibly freeing and fun to write, and returning to Supernatural fic had me writing out ideas I’d had on the backburner for years, like with Wednesday and my aforementioned SWBB. Nearly every Sam Winchester fic I write is about autonomy (loss of or reclaiming of) in one way or another but I’d say the two iddiest ones by far from this year were His Soul to Keep and Last Drop. 

I’ve got four WIPs heading into 2020, so here’s to another year of writing!

#spn fics #venom fics #sam winchester #eddie/venom #writing meme #end of the year asks #slytherkins

[scintillating-galaxias]

i’ll be the wind beneath your wings (ch. 2)

chapter two of my swap gift for @peppervl​! if you don’t want me tagging you every day when a new chapter gets posted here, let me know :D all chapters will be available to read beneath the tag ‘ibtwbyw’ and it is also available on ao3.

(read it on ao3!)

-

Rain lashed against the panes of the windows, demanding entrance through the cracks in the glass. It was not used to being wholly barred access from any building in London. There were always tiny holes in roofs, ever a misfitted window to trickle through. But not this building. 

Aziraphale huffed as he pushed a massive cherry bookshelf across the floor. It did not occur to him that this would scuff the flooring, so it didn’t. He would have liked to use a miracle or two to arrange everything correctly, but given he had to be rescued from the Bastille because he wasn’t able to perform more ‘frivolous miracles’ (just the thought made him roll his eyes), he probably shouldn’t. 

He dusted his hands off and stepped back to examine his work. His heel collided with a chest, and he only just managed to catch himself on a large wooden crate. When he nudged it out of the way, it caught on a loosened rotting bit of flooring. Perhaps he should have made the proprietor stay just a little while longer so they could at least get some base remodeling done. 

Moving into his new shop was thrilling, but he was sure his mouth was going to fall right off after all of the smiling and talking and agreeing he’d had to do to move things along. And he still had to deal with the vast amount of books, scrolls, tablets, art pieces, and other assorted trinkets he’d acquired over the centuries. Presently, they were all carefully wrapped and stored away. Inventory was going to be a nightmare, especially after learning the ship coming from France to England carrying the last of his items had gotten caught in this storm. It would be fine, hopefully ( probably Aziraphale insisted), but for now, all he could do was wait.

As he surveyed the scene, he could not help but feel that the shop was paradoxically cluttered and empty. The floor space was open enough right now, but there were pillars of books sprouting from partially unloaded crates all over the place, and even more shoved against the walls. Corners glinted with cobwebs hanging over planks of unassembled shelves. Furniture, some purchased new, some not, was shoved into one such corner for the time being, covered in brown paper to protect them from the wax drippings from the dull candle holders just barely clinging to the barren walls. Aziraphale watched as a draft of wind finally succeeded in sneaking through the space to blow out one of the candles with an acrid puff of smoke.

At that moment, a dull thud sounded from his door.

“Goodness,” said Aziraphale. Someone must be seeking refuge from the storm. Of course, as a host of humble Heavenly virtues, he would oblige—so long as they did not touch the books. He bustled over to the door, fussing with the rusting lock for a brief moment before wind tore it from his hands and slammed the heavy doors open with a startling bang, revealing a huge, hunchbacked figure.

“Come in!” he exclaimed. “It’s positively dreadful out there.” A flash of lightning illuminated a familiar sharp face. “Crowley? What are you doing out here?”

“Hey, angel.” Crowley looked, to put it in the gentlest terms possible, terrible. 

His hair, usually so meticulously styled, hung in lank, dripping strands around his shoulders. His sunglasses were missing, and his eyes were entirely yellow—a sharp contrast to the black and blue bruises sprawling all across his jaw and his cheeks. The hunchbacked shape could be sourced to his wings, which were out and held awkwardly.

Aziraphale gasped. “What happened to you? How—?” He reached out, but Crowley harshly smacked his hand away even as he leaned towards him. Unbalanced, he careened into the doorway and swore loudly.

“‘M sorry,” he hissed, clutching his shoulder. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

Crowley’s eyes rolled up and he pitched forward. Aziraphale rushed to catch him, stumbling as Crowley collapsed into him. He grunted and lowered them both as gently as he could to the floor, a task hindered immensely by Crowley’s massive wings.

“Oh, my goodness, alright—down we go, that’s it, dear boy…”

God in Heaven, what had happened to him? Aziraphale’s hand went to his mouth as he knelt beside Crowley’s crumpled form. For the longest time, he could only stare in mute horror at the still-bleeding cuts littering Crowley’s body, the blooming black bruises, and his wings, oh, his wings. He had to look away. 

“What happened,” he mouthed again uselessly. His hands hovered fearfully over Crowley’s body, desperately wanting to do something, but equally resenting the possibility of causing harm instead. Even as he sat, Crowley moaned dismally into the floorboards and curled in on himself a little more.

“S’rry,” he slurred, more breath than a distinct syllable. “Gimme—gimme a sec—hah, fuck… ”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said. “You’re in hardly any shape to talk, let alone do something foolish.” A low rumble of thunder shook the floor. “You’re in my care now. Let me help you.”

“S’not… you don’t have to help, I know you don’t want to.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean? Of course I do.”

A tremor went through Crowley’s body, and Aziraphale realized he was laughing. “‘Cause yer ‘n angel. Tha’s it.” He paused. “Maybe if I was something else. Wasn’t a demon, you’d want to. I get it.”

“That just isn’t true!” Aziraphale snapped, hurt, though he did not know why. It was not as though Crowley was wrong; he did want to help, and yes, it was likely a result of his angelic nature. But was that truly all? It mustn't be if it stung this much. “I’m moving you to the back of the shop. Someone could see you. Hold still.” As if anyone else would be out in this storm when the rain was as hard and cold as blades, and the wind struck as hard as a whip against the creaking walls of his shop.

He spent a moment figuring out how to best move Crowley without aggravating him. Or rather, aggravating him the least, because it seemed not one square inch of flesh had been spared from some grievance. Aziraphale very badly wanted to snap his fingers and transport Crowley’s body the twenty or so feet he needed, but again, Heaven was closely watching him. Forget moving a shelf. If they caught him using miracles on a demon to heal him instead of outright killing him while he was at his most vulnerable, the consequences would be far worse than a letter of condemnation. 

He said he knew you wouldn’t want to help him, and he came anyway. He said he had nowhere else to go, and he came to you. Answer him; will you let him die? Will you let him die because you are afraid to do what you know is the right thing?

Aziraphale uttered an unsavory phrase under his breath and deemed Crowley’s right shoulder to be in the best condition to be handled. “I’m picking you up now,” he told Crowley, who did not react to his voice or the hand he placed on her shoulder. He pulled Crowley up, draped one arm over his shoulders, and stood slowly, waiting for a whimper of pain, a gasp, or a curse. All he got was a faint, “M’ugh.”

Aziraphale slowly dragged him towards the back of the shop, skin crawling as the limp ends of Crowley’s listless wings left streaks of blood on the floorboards so dark they almost looked black. All of the clutter moved aside under his glare, creating a path to what would eventually become his nook. In it sat a new sofa, a desk whose surface was hidden beneath haphazardly stacked piles of books, and a few more unassembled shelves. He snapped his fingers as he approached. The sofa stretched to become much broader and longer, probably more so than necessary, but there was no time to be picky. Another snap and an array of squashy pillows appeared at one end. 

“I’m going to try to patch you up,” Aziraphale said as he carefully sat Crowley down into a slouched seating position. Crowley’s eyelids blearily twitched open. Aziraphale sucked a breath in through his teeth. “They roughed you up, my dear, but that won’t be a problem. You’ll be raring to go quicker than you can say ‘crêpes!’”

Crowley groaned again at that. “You and your bloody crêpes. S’why I got caught up in the first place.”

A horrible chill shocked his body. “What?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s—Shit, ow — Don’t worry your pretty head about it, angel.”

“Pardon me, but why the hell should I not worry?”

“Later.” Crowley slumped sideways against the pillows, carefully keeping his wings out of the way. “Just—if you’re serious about helping, talking’s only going to make me die quicker.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “We’re talking about this later,” he warned. “But for now…” A fluffy white rag appeared in his hand. “You’re probably going to want to bite this.”

Aziraphale collapsed into his armchair, shoulders, neck, and hands aching something fierce. Exhaustion pricked his eyes, a sensation he had been more than happy to leave behind in the chaos that was the European Renaissance. His discomfort was likely nothing compared to that of Crowley, who was fast asleep on the sofa and bandaged and cleaned up to the best of Aziraphale’s ability. The bruising and swelling faded with minimal trouble at least, but the same could not be said for the rest of Crowley’s more grievous injuries. 

When it came to cleaning and closing of the lacerations, Aziraphale had almost wept at the sheer amount of cuts and gashes littering poor Crowley’s body. It’d taken hours to close all of them; Crowley’s flesh heavily disagreed with his holy touch, flaring up angrily if he sustained it for more than a minute. It had taken them well into the night, possibly into the early morning, to heal all of the cuts he could find. Most of them would leave scars. Aziraphale prayed—no, that would probably worsen the process— hoped they would fade with time. 

Setting the broken bones of his fingers and wings was easily the most taxing portion. He’d healed the fingers alright but had only gone so far as to splinting Crowley’s wings. Coaxing the wayward shards of bone scattered in the lean muscle of Crowley’s wing to return to their places had taken everything he had. By the time he finished, he was too exhausted to deal with detailed, meticulous work like rearranging Crowley’s feathers back into their usual sleek uniformness, so they were still bent and broken in huge patches, stiff with blood.

Despite that, he felt he’d done what he could. He wished, gaze lingering on the colorful strips of bruises peeking between the bandages, he could do more. But his reserves of medical supplies were already woefully low before Crowley had stumbled inside, plus he had started running on fumes of miracle energy about four hours ago. He felt scraped empty and raw. But Crowley was not in danger of dying in his sleep and that was going to have to be good enough for the time being.

Crowley’s face pinched as he mumbled into his pillow in his sleep. Aziraphale bit his lip.

Maybe one more miracle.

He wearily held up his hand and murmured, “May you dream of whatever you like best,” and snapped his fingers. An unpleasant zing went down his arm, but he could forgive it as Crowley sighed contentedly and seemed to fall into a deeper sleep. “I’ll be here. Rest well, my dear,” he sighed. 

Satisfied, Aziraphale slumped back down in the chair and settled his chin on his chest, absently rubbing his thumbs. His gaze lazily roamed about Crowley’s body for any cuts he may have missed or had been reopened. Crowley had set his progress back a couple of times when he’d awoken with Aziraphale’s hands on him. Evidently distressed, he reacted the way anyone would expect a scared and injured person to react: thrashing, yelling, hitting, hard, wild unrecognition blazing in his bruise yellow eyes. It made Aziraphale ache in a peculiar way. You’re with me, he wanted to tell him as he shushed and consoled him, you’re with me, you’re safe here, what’s the matter with you?

Eventually, Crowley passed out a final time. He had not awoken since, but the feeling still had not settled. It prickled Aziraphale even now, prodding and persistent like the loose threads of missed stitches in his clothes. But as insistent it was, it could not push through the rubbery numbness of exhaustion. Introspection could happen later. He needed some rest.

A cracking yawn forced its way out of his chest. Crowley had lauded the glories of sleep on a few occasions. Perhaps now would be the time to see what the fuss was all about. Just a few minutes, and he’d be ready to go.

He took one final glance at his unfinished packing job, at the scattered books, the trail of blood, and then, at last, at Crowley. 

“Be right here,” Aziraphale said quietly as he finally let his leadened eyelids slip shut. “Right… here…”

#peppervl #goholidayswap #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #hurt/comfort #wing grooming #swearing #drugging #happy ending #queerplatonic relationship #changing pov #canon divergent #my writing #ibtwbyw #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction

[shitkpopmemes-blog]

Dark chocolate

A/N: This was sat unfinished in my drafts since like May. But I wasn't in the mood to write smut and I haven't written for Yoongi in a while so decided to try fix this mess. It didn't work.

Warnings: abuse

Min Yoongi is like dark chocolate. Sweet on the outside but bitter underneath. He isn’t for all people, only those who have the acquired taste. Plain like water, but as opinionated as black coffee, the kind that makes your taste buds dance out of time and your whole face crunch as it hits the back of your throat. He is a storm, one that shakes houses down to the foundations but you are still left mesmerised by the beauty as it passes. Yoongi is a question waiting to be answered and you wouldn’t stop till you found it. You wanted, no needed, to know why he despised you so much. It seemed that around everyone else, Yoongi was angel, he was caring and kind, but with you it was like the devil that was hidden underneath those wings was finally released with only one target. You started to question if maybe he hadn’t been so rude since the moment you eyes met, you might have already fallen for his sly charms and gummy smile but thank to his cruel ways you’ve only found that in fact, you hate dark chocolate, but in some strange way you were infatuated with the taste. You needed to know what it was made of, what he was made of. What led to the pinpoint that Min Yoongi became such a bitter shell of a man. Even now as you sat in the quiet space of your school library, even the piles of books and looming deadlines couldn’t pull you from the distraction that was none other than the devil himself. Each muted tap of his leather clad feet against the dull carpet fueled a thousand fires in your veins but you still cared enough to notice the way his steps grew uneven as if he was slowing down until- wait why was he stopping in front of you?

“Yah, shorty. Move.” He asked, no demanded. You looked up at him in subtle shock, “Who are you calling shorty? I’m only an inch shorter than you.” You argued, completely ignoring his rude request, “Sweetheart.” He said sarcastically while crouching so that his face was more inches from yours, “Every inch counts. So move.” He smirked and even the roll of your eyes couldn’t hide the crimzon that made its way up your neck and settled along your freckled cheeks. “Yah! Am I speaking gibberish?” He said raising his voice slightly, luckily for you and your ears, he had already moved away from your face. “No, you are just speaking, which means I don’t care.” you retorted, earning a loud scoff from the dark haired boy, the small squabble earned a few looks from the lingering students. You tried to go back to reading your textbooks only to have it forcibly ripped from your grasp causing you to let out a small yell, the librarian quickly shhed you to which you quickly apologised. “Look, what do you want?” You sighed, you were already done with his presence and despite his cocky smile you could see the confusion in his eyes as you snapped back at him. Normally girls at the school practically drops everything as soon as he walks in the room but not you, and in that way, you were you own mystery to him. Similarly to him, Yoongi saw you as iced tea. Cold but everyone seemed to like you, but you were never anyone's first choice of drink. Your personality changed with the seasons, a new flavour to fit the turning winds. You are walking in the rain with a closed umbrella, you were the feeling of fresh water as it plastered on your face but Yoongi always chose to stay inside, simply observing from a darkened window. You realised you both never really know each other yet somehow ended up hating each other. “I said move. I want to sit there.” He explained pulling you out of your thoughts, “keyword, Yoongi. Wanted. But I'm not moving so you can either pull up a chair or fuck off.” You quickly grabbed a different book seeing as Yoongi still had yours, choosing to just ignore whichever  decision he decided to make yet of course out of the corner of your eye you still caught the way he sighed before throwing your book down and pulling up a chair.

The hit sent your notes flying around the quiet space of the table, the chair leaving behind a deadly mumble as the metal ran along the carpet. You looked up in disbelief as he threw himself into the seat in front of you, his jean clad calves just roughly brushing against the bare skin of your ankles as he stretched his legs. “What even brings you to this part of the school so late?” You asked, not that you really cared, you just couldn’t stand the feeling of his eyes piercing your skull as you worked in silence. “Why do you think? Mr Kim kept me behind for being late… again.” He explained while aimlessly flicking through one of your textbooks before his eyes landed on one that caught his eye. It was different from the rest, this one didn’t have any stickers or post-it’s on it, no stripes, no spots. It was a plain black, hardback book. His hands immediately grabbed for it but jolted back as your hand came down to slap it away, pulling the book back into your chest. Yoongi rose an eyebrow while looking at you with a smirk, “Aw, Shorty doesn’t want me to read her diary.” You scoffed as he continued to taunt you, “You know, usually girls go for more pink and less Death Note.”, “It’s not a diary, that’s why.” You cut his off from his laughter causing him to fall silent, the curiosity glowing brightly in his eyes. “It’s a sketchbook.” You explained finally, setting it calmly back on the table but still being cautious that it was out of Yoongi’s reach. “Like drawing and stuff?” He asked while sitting up right, his jeans colliding lightly with your skin one again, “Um yeah, I guess. It’s more just for doodles.” You mumbled, trying to brush of the subject but Yoongi wasn’t giving in. “Just doodles?” He laughed, mimicking your casual tone, “Just doodles.” you confirmed while smiling softly hoping he wouldn’t pry any further.

As much as Yoongi seemed genuinely interested in what masterpieces hid beneath the jet black covers, you just didn’t show people your art, it was special to you. He nodded in silently understanding while retracting his hands from the table, “Anyway, why are you still here either? Is studying really that fun for you?” And that jokey personality was back. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but it was another mystery about him. It amazed you how even through the seemingly never ending forest of harshness, the caring sunny side of him still managed to shine through the gaps from time to time. “No, I just like not failing every class.” You mumbled trying to hide the real reason why you wanted to stay so late. As much as it would get you in trouble being so late home, you just hated being there. You house was no longer a home, no longer a safe space. It was full of screaming and shouting, only just muffled by the walls of your bedroom, your door locked tightly as the handle shook, glinting in the light as drunken hands pounded on the worn wood. “And for some reason I don’t believe that for a second.” Yoongi said while sitting back in his chair, closing the book that was in front of him. You were about to reply back with some sarcastic comment about him not caring anyway when your phone rang. “Y/N L/N! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

You flinched slightly at the loud shouting once you answered the phone, you should have checked the caller ID. “Shit.” You whispered before frantically packing up your stuff, “I’ll be right home Dad.” You said before hanging up. You were in so much trouble, he was so pissed, your hands were shaking as you tried to shove your books in your bag. “Woah, what’s wrong?” Yoongi said, a moment of care, or rather a moment of decency towards another human being. “Nothing, just my dad-” You started but couldn’t bring yourself to finished your sentence. Yoongi watched in silence as you cursed to yourself before rushing to the door, “Hey wait!” He said while grabbing his bag, “I can give you a ride. It will be quicker than walking.” He suggested, you decided to take the offer since it will probably be the only time you will ever get offered any form of favour from him. Truth was Yoongi was genuinely worried, he had heard the shouting on the other end of the phone, he couldn’t make out the words but he knew it probably wasn’t good. He swiftly directed you to his car and he could tell that you didn’t really want to be going home by the way you continued to tap your leg out of time to the music as he drove and your hands never found a way to settle in your lap. You gave him directions to your house and he drove in silence. As he pulled up outside your house he watched you look at it, your hands shaking as you opened the door, “Thanks for the lift.” You said before shutting the door. You stood there for a moment before heading towards the door, not going in would only make it worse. Yoongi stayed and watched until he saw that you had entered the house and he couldn’t see anymore then he drove away back to his own hell hole.

“Where the fuck have you been. I told you to come home and watch your little sister.” Your dad shouted as he pulled you into the living room. You could hear banging and crying from upstairs and assumed that he had locked your sister in her room, “I was studying.” You said, telling the truth but of course, when has that ever worked. “Bullshit! Who was that guy who dropped you off? Studying my arse, you were probably fucking him in some street alley like the little slut that you are!” His voice only seemed to get louder and you wondered how he hadn’t destroyed his vocal chords, with the alcohol and smoking alongside it was a miracle he could even talk. You felt tears threatening to falls as you thought of something irrational, but you had to try. You moved before you mind fully registered what you were doing, you were sprinting at full speed up the stairs, “Oi, you little bitch get back here!” you dad shouted, if you could even call him that, while running swiftly after you. You quickly flicked the lock on the outside of the door, swinging it open to she your sister’s bright red face. You ran around the upstairs to your room and locked the door from the inside which was quickly met with banging and shouting from your father. “Listen to me Minni, Listen carefully. Take my phone and call a person in my contact list names Yoongi. Tell him to come get you. Now go, climb down the window.” You said while handing her your phone and helping her onto the ledge just under your window so she could safely lower herself down.

“But Y/N, what about you?” she asked while stepping out, grabbing helplessly onto your shirt with tears rushing down her face. “I’ll meet you out there, just go!” you shouted while shutting the window after her. Once she was out of site you walked over to your door that was taking the same kind of beating you were about to get. If only the windows opened more. You took in a shaky breath as you reached for the lock on your door handle, this is the only way out. You flicked the lock and quickly backed your way into the wall, just bracing yourself as he grabbed you by the hair. “You think running will help you? Stupid bitch.” He said before landing several hits all over your body that were sure to bruise.

-----

Yoongi was about half way home. He couldn’t stop thinking about the terrified look on your face as you left, he knew something was wrong but he didn’t know what to do about it, he was meant to hate you after all. But did hating each other mean he was supposed to just let you get hurt? He pulled into his driveway a few streets over but just before he was about to get out his phone rang, Incoming call from devil. At first he wasn’t going to answer it but something inside him told him that he had to. “Hello.” He said only to be met with a voice that wasn’t yours. “H-hello, Is this Yoongi?” The voice spoke, it sounded like a little girl, she was out of breath. “Um, yeah. Who is this?” Yoongi asked, checking he had in fact read the caller ID correctly. “I’m Minni, Y/N’s little sister. She said you could come get us.” She started to cry down the phone and Yoongi was growing more confused and concerned by the second. He threw his seatbelt back on, throwing his phone on loud speaker on the dash as he drove. “Okay, Minni. I’m on my way, just calm down.” Yoongi said. He wasn’t very good with calming people down, or good with Kids. Giving him a panicked child was just the worst thing. “Please! Hurry! Y/N hasn’t come back yet. I can hear the yelling.” Here Yoongi was, practically speeding to your house, with a crying little girl on the phone and no clue what is going on. What if this was a prank?

As he pulled onto your street he finally saw the small body that was hiding just off the side of the house. He was quick to abandon the car outside and rush to her aid. “Hey, Minni. I need you tell me what’s going on so I can help your sister.” Yoongi tried to reason with her but she just continued to cry. “She is-is in there. D-daddy got r-really mad this time.” She stuttered out. “Alright, I want you to go wait in the car. I’m gonna go get your sister then i’ll bring you somewhere safe.” Yoongi said while helping her into the car. “Yoonii! Be careful.” She squealed out as he shut the door before running towards the door which was luckily unlocked. As soon as the door was open he could hear the man who he assumed was your dad yelling out curses and insults like it was his job, with your sobbing and cries of pain ringing in his ears. Upstairs. As he ran up the stair he could make out the shouting a lot cleaner. “I’m the one in charge here! You hear me you useless piece of shit?!” He saw the mans back from the hallway in the doorway of what he guess was your room. You were on the floor and he was pulling your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes as he spat these useless words at you. Your eyes were filled with tears as you took the beating so that your sister didn’t have to.

Yoongi hadn’t really thought his plan the whole way through but it was too late as he grabbed one of the various empty alcohol bottles from the ground and smashing it clean over the man’s head, effectively knocking him out. “Y-yoongi?” You whimper out and he quickly ran to your side. “It’s okay, i’ve got you.” He whispered while carefully picking you up and running to his car where your little sister was waiting. “Y/N!” she screamed out when she saw your semi-conscious body in his arms. Yoongi laid you on the back seat next to your sister before driving back to his house. He kept stealing glances at you through the mirror as you tried to comfort Minni despite your pain, something that reminded Yoongi of his older brother. Yoongi felt like his house didn’t come fast enough, but finally he was pulling onto his driveway. “You can go on ahead Minni. I’ll bring Y/N in.” Yoongi said, smiling lightly as she skipped over to the door and let herself in. Yoongi felt a pain in his chest seeing you all bruised and hurt. Sure he was a dick to you at times but, no one deserved this from anyone, let alone your own parent. “You came.” You whispered weakly as Yoongi carried you into his house and laid you on his sofa. “I couldn’t just leave you. Now rest, You and Minni can share my bed.” He explained. “Come on Minni, I’ll show you where.” He said, observing the tired girl as she rubbed her eyes, all the crying tired her out.

When he came back down you had sat up and drinking the water he had got you with some pain killers. “You didn’t have to do this, any of this. I just wanted her to be safe.” You whispered as he sat down next to you pulling you into his chest, because it felt like the right thing to do. You sat with an emotionless as your tears rolled down your cheeks to soak Yoongi’s shirt. “I just want her to be safe.” You said finally before letting your emotions hit you as you sobbed into Yoongi’s side. He softly trailed his fingers along your back as you calmed down and you realised how comfortable Yoongi’s hold really was. “It’s funny. We hate each yet you were the first person I thought to call.” You laughed out softly, “Hates a strong word.” He whispered out while continuing his ministrations on your skin. You just hummed in response as you felt yourself slowly falling asleep. Yoongi watched as he felt your body relax in his arms and he saw how fragile you really are. He slowly brought his head down to kiss your forehead before bringing you upstairs with Minni.

---

When you woke up your were in complete pain. Everything from head to toe felt like it was pounding and melting away. You slowly rolled over to look at Minni, her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were red from crying, she would probably have a sore throat. You decided to let her sleep in, good thing it was the weekend, sucking in a harsh breath as you sat up, shooting pains rushing all down your back. Slowly you made your way down the stairs to see that surprising Yoongi was already awake and cooking, the smell was almost foreign, you couldn’t remember the last time you and Minni sat down for a cooked meal together. “It’s sad, I almost forgot what bacon smells like.” You whispered from where you were leaning in the doorway to balance yourself, your words making Yoongi jump. “Jesus, you scared me.” He laughed, clutching his heart in a dramatic way before gesturing you to sit down by the island in his kitchen. “I know I kind of asked you to collect us, but why are you doing all of this? You could have easily left us at a hotel or even on the street.” You said, watching as Yoongi moved around the kitchen, he looked so different from in school. He looked calm, like whatever raging sea that consumed him during school hours, finally had calm waters, “What kind of monster do you take me for?” Yoongi laughed, one of those sarcastic ones that has a half sigh hidden beneath it, and came to sit beside you. Once again the rough fabric of his jeans brushed against your ankle, knees touching from how close you were sat, “I know how I treat you, I’m a bit of a dick.” He started and you scoffed, “Just a bit.”, “Shut up. Anyway. It’s not a good excuse but it’s an explanation.” Yoongi looked so serious, a look you had never seen grace his face, it almost looked wrong.

You looked into his eyes, giving a small nod as if to tell him to start, “Before I came to this school, I was never like this. In fact I was the complete opposite, I had the highest grades, a teachers pet if you will. I never had many friends but I had a lot on enemies. Guess you could say I wasn’t very popular, I got bullied and beat up a lot, but my parents didn’t care, they told me it was my own fault for not being strong enough. After one time, I was put into hospital, my brother and me moved away, moved here to seoul.” Yoongi explained, you were shocked to say the least. You were finally getting the answers you wanted but you never expected it like this, “My brother always protected me when we moved, but I began to work out, I built myself up so I didn’t need protecting anymore. So when I started at this school my brother told me, first day make a statement so the other students know not to fuck with me. I didn’t want to at first because it would only make me just as bad as the guys back in Daegu but I felt like I had to. I beat up some random kid. I put up a cold front so that I could protect the younger version of myself who was still scared and crying inside. I became the dickheads that I was so afraid of before, horrible to everyone, even you. But you were different. Where as the guys would quiver in fear and the girls would drool over the mention of my name, you treated me as if I was just any other person. As if I was me again, and that was scarier to me than any other bully.” You could have sworn that you could see tears in his eyes as he spoke and could feel some forming in your own.

“When you left my car yesterday I could tell something was wrong. That face you made, the same face I held every day of my school life before a moved. But then when I picked up the phone, I couldn’t just leave you, because I remember making that exact phone call to my brother that night I was admitted to hospital. If he hadn’t turned his car around to get me, I could have died, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if the same happened to you.” Now tears were freely falling from both of your faces, a mix of emotions was so overwhelming. Of course that was the time when your little sister decided to venture downstairs, you both quickly wiped your tears as you heard her footsteps down the hall. “I smelt bacon!” She shouted with a smile and you felt your heart warm seeing her look genuinely happy. “Yes. Yeah I um made breakfast.” Yoongi said, coughing to hide how his voice cracked slightly from the tears he whipped away, walking over to where he was originally cooking. Minni cheered and you lifted her up to help her up to the chair, she watched in awe as Yoongi placed food on the plates and you hadn’t realised how hungry you really were until the plate was right in front of you. Minni immediately dug into her bacon and pancakes and you weren’t far behind along with Yoongi himself. You hummed in approval, Yoongi was surprisingly good at cooking, “This is so good. Thank you.” you said and you sincerely meant and Yoongi knew you did. You all ate in silence, but it was comfortable silence.

It felt strange, you spent so long trying to figure Min Yoongi out, and now you had all of your answers. It was like the storm had calmed, the devil could learn to be good, he finally stepped out to dance in the rain, finally took a step towards you. Sure, maybe Min Yoongi was dark chocolate, but you found you didn’t hate the taste as much as you thought.

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts jin #bts smut #bts x reader #bts angst

[beesloosewithcanon]

Cracks in the Foundation, Chapter 12 Update

After writing 3,499 words today, I’ve finally finished writing chapter 12!

Tomorrow I’ll be editing this beefy chunk of text (the current word count is 21,332) to polish it up. My goal is to have it posted Sunday, Monday at the absolute latest! So find your comfy reading clothes, your favorite mug for a hot drink, and get ready. Chapter 12, after three fucking years, is about to drop!!

I’m so fucking happy.  

As a treat to those who follow my updates, here’s a sneak peak at a scene (which is still in a draft and I haven’t reread, so I apologize for the errors). Enjoy!

Samantha gently maneuvered the hoodie around the spectre and got her arms through the sleeves with little issue. She gathered the front together at Shepard’s hips level. She took her time getting the zipper to thread. “You know,” she started as the zipper caught. She slowly started zipping it up, careful not to catch any of the badges in the teeth. “You should really let Chakwas finish examining you and patching you up.”

“I’ll pass,” she responded, shaking her head, taking in an intake of breath that sounded more like a hiss as she moved to the side a little too far. “I can’t stand being in here as a patient. I need to be working. I—”

The zipper stopped and Samantha slide her hands very careful up from the zipper to Shepard’s shoulder, interlocking her fingers affectionately behind Shepard’s neck. “Working isn’t going to make you feel better about losing Mordin.”

Shepard moved her left hand to her side injury, but her other hand trailed up the top of Samantha’s thigh and gingerly up on to her hip, sliding to Samantha’s side.

The way that they were standing was incredibly intimate. Shepard was leaning against the examination table and Samantha had inadvertently placed her legs on either side of Shepard’s left leg as she’d dealt with the hoodie. Now, with Samantha’s arms draped around Shepard’s neck and Shepard’s hand resting on her waist, her thumb gently caressing, it clicked just how intimate it felt. The heat in Samantha’s collar returned.  

Shepard let out a long sigh. “But working will occupy my brain so that I’m not constantly thinking about him,” she said sadly.

As much as she was enjoying all of the touching, she knew this wasn’t really the time to be testing the limits of their new-found closeness. She took a step back, letting her hands fall away as she gently grabbed Shepard’s hand that was on her waist. “Alright. Well—I’ll tell Chakwas I tried everything to stop you.” She winked at the red head. “But promise me you’ll take a breather later, okay?”

Shepard gave another soft smile, her fingers interlocking with Samantha’s as she sheepishly bounced their hands off of Samantha’s hip a little. “I’ll try.”

Samantha returned the smile. “Well, in that case, the salarian dalatrass was hailing earlier on the QEC. I mean… If you needed someone to yell at, that is.”

Shepard closes her eyes for a moment and smiled wide without showing teeth. With only a slight groan, she straightened her posture as she pushed off of the examination table, her left hand still clutching her right side. She then did something that made Samantha’s breath catch in her throat.

Her Commanding Officer leaned forward, closing the distance between them and kissed Samantha’s forehead. Shepard let the kiss linger for several heartbeats before straightening to her full height. “Thank you. I might do just that.”

Samantha’s lips parted slightly as she looked up at Shepard’s green eyes. Her demeanor had completely shifted since when she first walked into the med-bay. She still looked battered and exhausted, but the smile on Shepard’s lips reached her eyes, causing tiny creases as she looked down at Samantha.

Shepard squeezed Samantha’s hand again and started to walk away. She let the distance of her walk eventually pull their interlocked fingers apart, just like when Shepard had left the Citadel memorial wall when she had stopped by to check on Steve.

Samantha watched her leave the med-bay, a rather severe limp in her gate.

She let out a shaky nervous breath that she’d apparently been holding as the med-bay doors hissed shut, cutting Shepard from her view. She knew that she had told Chakwas that she’d try and convince her to stay and she’d done a bang-up job on that front. But she also felt like she knew Shepard a little bit now after all of their conversations. She knew that the soldier just needed space. She needed to do what Samantha usually did when she was upset. Work. Work through problems that are tangibly solvable. Something you can see a finished outcome. Like a puzzle or a report. Something that occupies the space in your brain that prevents it from wondering into darker spaces.

She hugged herself and leaned her hip against the examination table. She knew she’d never truly understand the trauma that Shepard had expired throughout her entire life – both personally and professionally. The woman had been through so much more than any living being should be allowed to be put through. It was like the galaxy had a specific vendetta against the charming red head and sought to make every turn in her life absolute hell.

I want to help her through that.

Why? It’s not your job to fix people, Traynor.

Because she makes me feel safe. I want to be able to do the same for her…

The doors to the med-bay hissed opened and she was pulled out of her thoughts as the sound of Dr. Chakwas heels reverberated through the now quiet med-bay.

The doctor let out a loud sigh. “She’s going to kill herself at this rate.”

Samantha looked up to see Chakwas surveying the med-bay and the mess on the floor. She stood with one arm across her stomach as her other hand brought a steaming cup of tea to her lips.

“She’s angry,” Samantha said, pushing off of the examination table and looking down at the medical supplies strewn across the floor, too. “I doubt she would be able to sit still even if you gave her a triple dose of an elcor tranquilizer. The salarian dalatrass has been hailing her on the QEC since we reached Tuchanka air space. I’m sure Shepard will do a fair bit of yelling and that will allow her to rest after that.”

“I understand her being angry,” Chakwas said morosely, bringing her tea down to rest on her forearm. She looked off to the side, not at anything in particular. “Mordin was a fantastic scientist and had a brilliant mind and did more for this war effort than any of the Citadel Diplomats.” She sighed. “Shepard had a huge impact on him after they met… I’m not sure if he’d have willingly worked on a cure for the Krogan if he hadn’t worked with Shepard on the Collector mission.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t take the time to get to know him.” Samantha chewed the inside of her lip, her hand cupping the outside of her bicep again. “I’ll do what I can to make sure that she gets the rest she needs. I’ll keep an eye on her and check up on her after the call has ended.

The older woman smiled. “Thank you, Samantha. Maybe she’ll actually listen to you.”

“Here’s to hoping.” She brought her hands down and put them on her hips. “Anyway – let me help you get this all cleaned up.”

#cracks in the foundation fanfiction #cracks in the foundation teaser #cracks in the foundation #mass effect 3 #mass effect fanfiction #shaynor #samantha traynor #fem shep #mordin solus #fanfiction #fanfic update

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

The 3am Adventures of Captain Insomnia and the Barefoot Wonder

A/N: Hi, people! I don’t remember the last time I posted a fic on here, BUT I was going through my drafts and finally mustered up the wherewithal to finish something! SO, without further ado, here is the 4th (ridiculous) chapter of my Soul Eater College!AU. This one’s way less emotional and way more snarky and funny than the last one, so if that chapter wasn’t your cup of tea, maybe this one will be better. This one’s not as connected and linear as the others, but it was fun to write.  It’s literally been years, so if anyone actually reads this, bless you. Hope you enjoy! (It’s literally so ridiculous, and I’m so sorry.) 

Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3

Summary: Soul can’t sleep, so his natural course of action is to drag Maka out of bed. Lots of snarking and flirting ensues. 

Word Count: 2,123

Genre(s): College!AU; humor, slice of life, slight romance

Characters/Pairings: Soul Evans, Maka Albarn, Liz Thompson; implied/pre-SoMa

Warnings: arguing/bickering, yelling

Maka had half a mind to hurl her shrieking cell phone across her room when it disturbed a much needed and (to that point) full night of sleep. She grumbled choice words between gritted teeth as she thrashed around, untangling herself from her warm cocoon of blankets and sliding open the device just before it went to voicemail.

“What?” 

“What are you so crabby about?” An all-too familiar gravelly tone snarked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Maka quipped, sitting up now as she glared a hole through her door. “Maybe because it’s 3am, I was FAST ASLEEP, and I have a damn final tomorrow.”

“Oh shit, is it 3am already?”

“3:06, to be exact.”

“Sorry, Maka, I swear: the last time I looked it was 11:30.”

 “Yeah, well, we’re way past that now, aren’t we?”

When he didn’t respond, she sighed, pushing her bangs back with a huff as she conceded, “So what’s up? What possessed you to call me in the first place?”

“I....can’t sleep.”

“Seriously?” She flopped back onto her pillows with a flourish, most of her body and half of her mind screaming at her to hang up. “Soul, go take some Tylenol PM or drink some warm milk or something.”

“Lactose intolerant.” 

“Never stopped you from chugging it from my carton.”

He grunted. “And the PM stuff makes you feel like you have a hangover, without the booze or the vomiting.”

“True. What do you want me to do about it, Captain Insomnia?”

“Take a ride with me.”

“Sooooul it’s 3:12 in the morning, dammit, I have a final in 5 hours.”

“I know, I know, just...” His voice became rougher than usual, but somehow small, like a timid child. “Please? I promise I’ll have you back in less than an hour.”

“Fine.” She threw off her blessed heat for good, nearly stubbing all of her toes as she stumbled blindly to her closet. “Where....are you?” She asked as she pulled on a hoodie and yoga pants. 

“Green parking, right outside your dorm.” She could practically hear his cheeky, shark-toothed grin. 

“You’re such an ass.”

“You love it.”

“Not right now.” She opted for bare feet when she eyed the pile of shoes next to her desk, and in seconds she was down the hall and out the back stairwell, waving her best friend and his (in her opinion) tacky orange motorcycle toward her. 

“The hell are your shoes?” He quirked a brow at the bare foot she was about to sling over his bike. 

“Don’t need them.” She retorted, thrusting said foot toward his face. “We’re just going for a ride, right?” 

“Yeah, suit yourself.” He shrugged as she settled into her seat and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

After they drove for a little while, she nudged him and yelled over the wind, “Where are we headed?”

“Anywhere but my dorm!” He called back, an obvious grimace on his lips. 

“How about Waffle House?”

“You’re not wearing any shoes, Maka!”

“No one cares, it’s just Waffle House! Plus it’s Liz’s shift, so I bet we can get in anyway.”

“Alright, to the kingdom of cholesterol it is.”

~

It was 3:30 on the dot when they pulled up to the small, brightly lit eatery. 

“Looks like we’re the only ones here.” Maka noted.

“Yeah, just means we might get our heart attacks faster.” Soul chuckled, holding the door open for Maka to walk in before him.

“Hey, you crazy kids,” a familiar tone rang out as they approached the counter. “What’re you two doing up so late? Or early, depending on how you look at it.” Liz added with an eye roll.

“Soul couldn’t sleep.” Maka reported, thrusting her thumb over her shoulder at the shrugging albino. “So he dragged me out here.”

“Hey, WaHo was your idea, Maka-”

“But sneaking over to my apartment and guilting me out of bed was yours-”

“Alright you two, knock it off. You sound like an old married couple, jeez.” Liz interjected, waving them over to a nearby booth with a cursory glance at Maka’s bare feet. “I only took this shift because it’s an easy one, so don’t screw that up for me.” 

“Sorry.” Maka grumbled, and Soul grunted something unintelligible in apology.

The blonde’s features softened just a hair, and she asked, “What’ll you have?”

“Just a glass of orange juice, please.” Maka quickly replied. “It’s way too late to be eating anything.”

“I’ll go for the All-Star Special.” Soul handed Liz his menu and shot Maka a look. “I call it beating the birds to breakfast. Something about eating grease on grease in the early morning hours that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

“You’re so weird.” Maka propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fists, staring at Soul in silence for a few moments.

“What?” He suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if he could feel her probing his mind. 

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“What could be bothering you so much that you’d wake me up at this time of night just to get me out of my dorm and take a ride, then come to a place you have an obvious love/hate relationship with.” 

“Sounds too complex for this hour.”

“It wouldn’t be if you’d tell me what’s wrong.” She bit back, giving Liz a grateful nod as she set down a full glass of orange juice.

“Nothing is wrong.” Soul retorted, his eyes shielded from her glare by his unruly bangs. “I told you: I just can’t sleep.”

“Mkay, whatever you say.” She quipped, sipping her juice with a pointed glare.

“You’re impossible.” He sighed, opting to look out the window into the darkened wasteland of Death’s Valley.

They sat in silence until their food came, playing eye tag with one another until Liz set their food in front of them.

~

“What if you had forks for hands?” Soul suddenly asked, his final forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth.

Maka raised a brow as she sipped on her orange juice. “What?”

“Like that movie, Edward Scissorhands. What if it was forks instead of scissors.”

“You’d probably be just as screwed. You couldn’t do anything with forks for hands.” Maka giggled, mimicking trying to pick up a salt packet without proper appendages. 

“God, imagine trying to wipe-”

“Ew, Soul, shut up! Did you have to make it gross?” She scoffed. “You’re such a guy.” But Soul caught the small grin she tried to hide behind her cup.

“Hey, I see you smiling!” He grabbed at the cup just in time for her to jerk back, effectively sloshing and spilling the sweet liquid down the front of her hoodie and onto her pants.

“Ah, damn-” They cursed in unison, locking eyes but for a second before Maka slammed down the glass, causing small waves of juice to spill onto the table. They both grabbed for the napkins, too quickly on both ends, and just ended up knocking the dispenser behind the counter. 

“Uh, Liz?” Soul called. “Can you-”

“I though I told you two to behave!” Liz stomped over with a handful of paper towels, death staring the both of them as she slopped up their mess. “If you two would quit flirting and just get it all out there already...” Liz trailed off, grumbling to herself as the pair of youths sat slumped, cheeks blazing beneath her fury and assertions. 

“S-sorry Liz...” Maka managed to mumble out as the woman carefully toted an armful of soggy, yellow-orange paper towels to the nearest trash can. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what I get for telling people I work the graveyard shift.” She sighed, carefully laying their check where the table wasn’t damp. “You better leave me a good tip.” She winked and strode toward another booth, now occupied by what looked like another college student. 

“Definitely. Sorry about all of this.” Maka glared at Soul as they stood and whispered, “it’ll never happen again.”

The young man just rolled his eyes and shrugged her off as he grabbed the check and pulled out his wallet, leaving Liz a $20 tip to compensate for their antics. 

“Alright, Soul,” Maka stated as she swung her leg over his bike once more. “This little escapade is over. Take me home; I want to sleep.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” He grumbled, revving the orange motorcycle and taking off into the night.  

~

When they were once again in front of Maka’s building, she hurriedly swung off the bike, but an unsteady hand grabbed her sleeve before she could hightail it back inside. 

“Maka-”

“Apology accepted, now let me go back to bed, Soul.” She whispered harshly, not wanting her neighbors to see her like this.  

“What? Oh yeah, sorry for spilling juice on you and all that, but, uh, no, that’s not it....I want to show you something.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” Maka shivered, her teeth chattering as a slight breeze swept through the parking lot.

“I mean, I guess it could, but...” His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, and she could detect the slightest hint of a tremble behind words. His gaze fell away from hers, and she laid her hand on his arm. 

“What?”

“I’ve been composing again.”

“Really? That’s awesome, Soul!” 

“Yeah, and I wanted to let you listen to what I have so far.”

“I’d love to, but...shouldn’t you show like, Liz or Kidd or someone? They appreciate music a lot more than I do.”

“I don’t want a real opinion.” He dodged her swipe at him with a chuckle. “Not saying your opinion isn’t real! Just...not a musical one. This one is kind of personal, is all. It’s not really like the ones I played for my recital last semester.”

“Oh” was all she could reply with before he was drawing out his IPhone and handing her the earbuds. 

He pushed play, and nothing happened.

“Soul, are you-”

“It starts out quiet. Just listen.” He mumbled, his gaze locked on his feet as sound began to seep into her ears. 

“Oh, I hear it-” A nice little tune filled her ears, and she nearly sighed in contentment as the even, almost whimsical pattern swirled around her. She smiled toward him, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

“Soul, this is-” The cheery piece suddenly slowed, faded into something with a sadder sound, more melancholy and drawn out. A cello declared its sorrowful tale as the piece picked up again, loud, dramatic, enough to prompt tears at the corners of her eyes as she listened, fixated on each pitch. The piece calmed again, but the notes were discordant, constantly stumbling over one another, seeming to smack right into one another as they tried to make sense of what they were conveying. Then, the whole sound seemed to change again, something serene, calm. She felt like she was sitting in a breezy meadow full of flowers, or a vegetated hillside. Even after the final, resounding note had long since left her headspace, Maka sat staring.

She found her hands where trembling and a couple of tears had even snaked down her cheeks as she reached up to pluck the earbuds out. Soul must have noticed, too, because when she looked up to hand the headphones back, his brows were creased in worry, his eyes wide. “Did you like it?” He finally rasped out.

“I....I loved it. I think...I feel like....I finally understand your music now.” She wiped the tear tracks away. “This is your real music, isn’t it? What you want to compose.” 

“What I would compose if I had my own way, yeah.”

“It was moving. It was heartbreaking, but so touching, too. I just...wow.”

“Not everyone likes music that changes so much, but it’s important for that piece.”

“I did. I do, I mean. It was just...like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Like I was listening to your heartbeat, or your soul or something.”

“Something like that.” He grinned shyly, shoving the IPhone into his pocket as another breeze picked up around them. “Sorry I dragged you out, but thanks for coming with me. It was nice to have someone along for the ride this time.”

“Yeah, no prob-” She stopped short when he was suddenly closer to her; his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Maka.” He whispered, planting the softest of kisses on the crown of her head before he released her, turning quickly toward his bike and mounting it before she could reply. “See you tomorrow.” He called back before revving up the bike once more and flying off toward his apartment.

“You’re welcome, Soul.” Maka whispered into the breeze, turning to go back to her own room as Soul’s taillights faded from sight.

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