#but the good news is I have figured out how to manage writing multiple stories at once so we'll be alright 🫶🏻

[laylajeffany]

Between healing bees and Wednesday identifying her sexuality in a clinical setting, Enid can not prepare for what's next in her new life.

#wednesday 2022 #fanfic update #wenclair #au #author has once again managed to surpass her self-imposed word count by nearly 5k #I don't know how people write chapters in a multichap fic less than 10k I simply don't - how do you character develop #when i tell you this plot has literally nothing to do with the original outline anymore 😭 it was only supposed to be 10 chapters #idk how long it's going to be anymore #but the good news is I have figured out how to manage writing multiple stories at once so we'll be alright 🫶🏻 #the black menagerie

[moni-logues]

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

*

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.��

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

[eerna]

i’ve been back on my hadestown bullshit (listening to the album on repeat) and you make such good points about the lyrics being dumbed down and how it does a disservice to the narrative and characters. it’s such an artful, creative show that constantly adapts and changes so why not take some risks with lyrics that may take a few times to sink in? that’s the beauty of listening to it through many times. i catch something new that just punches me in the gut each time (also love your hadestown art it’s so good)

Thank youuu glad you like my stuff :3 Yeah!! I think ultimately it comes down to two things, confidence and Broadway requirements. Anais Mitchell isn't hiding how much she struggled writing the show and balancing between artsy, well crafted, and understandable. She also stated many things have been cut because the show was too long for Broadway and they were required to trim it. To both I say, HUH?? First off, Anais Mitchell honed her craft to perfection. No other musical ever managed to drive me to tears with moodsetting "oohs". She wrote a godly love song that sounds like a godly love song. She deserves all the confidence in the WORLD. But she also never hid that Hadestown is a very personal story influenced by her experience as a free artist, so on the other hand, I totally get that no amount of success can ever truly heal your inner critic, and she will always keep trying to adjust her work. As for the second point, I know at least some of the dumbing down is because the audiences complained. I saw Hadestown live 5 years after seeing a bootleg of it, and in those 5 years they added so many cheap jokes and dishonest tension breaks it is Crazy. But I DID notice in older bootlegs that people laughed at inappropriate times, they seemed like they expected something funny to be happening in every scene because they went to a musical and so picked some really weird spots, which doesn't happen in any of the recordings of the new jokey edition. So in dumbing itself down, the musical mamaged to become more understandable to the audience at large. In fact, even after all the changes, at the theater I overheard people talking in the pause, and they agreed the show is "too confusing" and "they can't tell what exactly is happening and if it is real or not". I can imagine that is a frustrating experience when you paid a good chunk of money to see a show, but also bro, google is Right There. Most people just don't have the will to sit down and listen to a pretty piece of media multiple times to figure it out! And sadly shows can't survive only on those who do! To bring this long ramble to a close, we are right back to art existing under capitalism and how one can't simply make GOOD art, they need to make PROFITABLE art, and that is pretty sucky

#eernask #eernask talk hadestown #logicalmarshmallow #i love hadestown but it is def a piece of media about capitalism told in a very capitalist surroundings #so it automatically takes a hit to its integrity and meaning. not much but significant. #i totally understand why fans in 2019 were so sad abt it becoming a broadway frontliner

[dragonwritersblog]

I’m looking for an artist to collab with for an AU

Hello! If you don’t know me already, my name is Dragon, the author of the TADC fics 5+1 and Royally Screwed (and also a funnybunny shipper). However, I am coming up with a totally new AU, something similar to the carnival and freakshow au as well as inspiration from Bendy and the Ink Machine, Poppy Playtime and Amanda the Adventurer.

I call it ‘The Amazing Digital REDACTED’ au.

In this au, you ‘the player’ play as Jax, an ex-employee of C&A returning to the abandoned building in order to find the rest of your work employees after a mysterious incident years ago. With hidden knowledge that he must enter the game in order to find them, Jax does just that while managing to retain his memories. Along with his accomplice Bubble (a helpful AI who wants to free the rest of the trapped souls) and some help from his friend Winter (yes Winter from 5+1 will be in this but that fic isn’t canon to this au) on the outside, Jax tries to fix his past mistakes and save everyone – especially a particular jester he loved and lost long ago.

Yup that’s right, Jax will be the main character of this au and you will be playing as him. Let me explain, there is a feature on AO3 that allows you to make multiple choices on how you want the story to play out, like a telltale video game if you understand what I’m saying. You will get to pick and choose how Jax goes about his adventure and receive more than one ending (with a canon ending as well). And yes, this au’s main ship is funnybunny as I believe that it deserves more recognition and I find that these two in this au are very interesting to explore (especially with their past).

However, this fic is going to take quite a long time to make and is going to be bigger than anything else that I have written in the past. That is why I want to team up with a fellow TADC/funnybunny artist (since I am not an artist and do better with writing and characters) and create a separate blog for this au to come up with comics and art together. If you’ve seen the blogs for the Carnival and Freakshow au’s, you know that with their comics and art they explore more of the world, drop some lore, do character sheets and explain the pasts of the characters. This is what I’m hoping for if I team up with an artist. This au will mostly be on tumblr however if it does well I might add it to twitter as well since I’m putting this post on twitter as well.

Here are what I have pictured for the characters so far.

Jax: Past name; Jack. Ex employee of C&A, main character and who you the player will be playing as. Before the ‘incident’, Jax used to work at C&A as part of a coding team, to make sure that there were no bugs before any games were released. While C&A wasn’t on his list of jobs to pick, it was the only one that seemed best due to the pay and the fact that they could pay for schooling for those with children. Since Jax has a little sister named Jane, and has no parental figures in his life, he takes the job in order to help pay for the both of them and to make sure that Jane gets a good education. Unlike his canon TADC counterpart, Jax is more quiet, tired and while sarcastic, isn’t all out cruel to everyone unless they are bad people (think Mike from the FNAF movie especially with his relationship with his younger sister). He becomes quite close with his boss’s daughter however, Penny (Pomni) with him starting to develop feelings for the shy girl. However, after the day of the ‘incident’ Jax is left with nothing but guilt since he knew things that contributed to that day. Now he has a chance to make things right and save everyone, and Pomni.

Pomni: Past name; Penny. Ex employee of C&A and daughter of the CEO Abel, Pomni is an extremely introverted and socially awkward person, due to being traumatised by her mother’s death. She and her father don’t have a good relationship, with reasons that will become clearer later. She was quite close to the past version of Ragatha, but other than her father, she doesn’t really have a relationship with anyone. She likes to work alone to focus on the numbers and accounting part of her job (she understands numbers more than people) until she meets Jack. Though Jack is usually a bit standoffish, he is sweet to Penny due to her shy nature and helps keep an eye on her throughout their jobs so that she doesn’t feel too overwhelmed. Overcome by his sudden kindness and protectiveness, Penny starts to develop feelings for Jax. However, after the day of the ‘incident’ she is now trapped in the game, forever a jester trapped in a box…until Jax shows up.

If you’d like to be an artist for this au and collab with me, you can send me a DM or @ me. Do either of these and a sketch of the characters and I will reach out to you and confirm that you can be my partner for this project.

Here are some visuals on how I envision the characters.

Jax:

Sans the goggles, think of Jax wearing this over his grey and dirty overalls, he could also be holding a makeshift weapon like a bat or a stick so that he can fight off enemies. This version of Jax is much more serious and he is ready to fight in order to get the job done.

Pomni:

(on the last pic, focus on the makeup rather than the outfit)

Overly baggy and childish, with blue and black instead of blue and red. This design is a reminder of her past trauma and as so, is implemented into her circus features. Due to it being too big for her, it makes it hard for her to run and escape, and the ridiculousness of it all is a huge slap in the face that this is her new life now and is fully erased of her past.  Even the makeup covers up any kind of normalcy on her face.

Well that’s it for now, I hope you guys take this into consideration and I hope you all have a lovely day/afternoon/night.

#dragon rambles #the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomni #jax #ragatha #gangle #zooble #kinger #caine #bubble #moon #sun #gloink queen #tadc gloinks #the amazing digital redacted au #my au #jax x pomni #pomni x jax #pomnijax #funnybunny #pomjax #jaxni #looking for artist

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Read your post on dialogue, not sure if anything I missed answers this so sorry if this is answered! I was wondering if you had any advice for discussing background and a robbery plan, how that could be tackled without a massive paragraph of dialogue. Not sure if this is an actual technique but would starting with a line of dialogue and having the paragraphs after be not-dialogue be a good way to go about that? Apologies in advance for “not-dialogue”. I minored in English. Words are hard today.

How to Write Characters Planning/An Explanation of an In-Story Plan

Do you know what's even harder than making a plan?

Having to write about your characters making a plan.

Explaining plans, especially in action/adventure stories that have a lot of moving parts involved, can be a one-way ticket to info-dumping central. I have never written a "planning" scene that I didn't struggle with horrifically, because it always seems like I'm shoving into the readers' faces why they have to do it this way and not another way.

Here are some tips on how I've managed to defeat the much-dreaded In-Story Plan.

1. Give the Planning Its Own Scene

Planning scenes take time. They have a lot of moving parts, require a lot of thinking and outlining to make sure there aren't any plot holes, and take a lot of energy for a writer to power through.

Putting this kind of scene at a huge point of tension or excitement will completely dampen the momentum of the story. Planning scenes are slow and direct, requiring intricate intent and understanding from both the writer and the reader--otherwise, everything that comes after the planning scene will fall apart. Planning scenes are better at building tension and anticipation rather than being the culmination of that tension and anticipation.

Of course, you can have your characters make a small plan in the middle of a fight, but big plans like heists, escapes, battle strategies, or other major character moves that require multiple pages and aren't just an exchange of dialogue and a paragraph or two should have its own section.

It is difficult to put a planning stage in the middle of something, so if you're having trouble figuring out where your planning scene should go, consider putting it at the start or end of a chapter or before/after a line break.

2. Explain Some Things Beforehand So You Don't Have to Cover Too Much

Plant some details surrounding the plan before the actual planning scene. This way, you don't have to worry about explaining each and every aspect of how it's going to go; even if you do have to reiterate some of these details, at least it won't be all new information for the readers.

These things could include:

1. Passing stand-out details about the places they will eventually infiltrate/rob/escape or the people they're going up against

Newspaper headline saying [Name of Corporation] just spent 9 million dollars on a new laser security system.

"Ugh, I hate walking by this place; it gives me the creeps! Rumor has it the statues come alive as an extra line of security."

Explain powers/influence enemy has

2. Magical Limitations

If your WIP includes magic, you might want to pre-explain all the reasons why they can't just use magic to solve the thing they want to do before the planning scene. Magical explanations are almost just as hard as plan explanations, and you don't want to have to burden yourself with combining the two.

There are more than just these two, but these were the ones I thought were the biggest!

3. Fight Back Info-Dumping by Balancing Description and Dialogue

How to Write Dialogue

How to Balance Description and Dialogue

If your planning scene is just one big chunk of text describing what they're gonna do, the readers will grow restless.

The key to writing a good planning scene is to give the characters props/staging, have interjections from other characters that may not be necessarily relevant to the planning, and include other aspects that make the scene important besides the planning.

Describe the space they're in before the start, pointing out interesting aspects.

Have the characters use a map, moving around pieces and pointing out specific areas.

Have some characters be more in the loop than others, interjecting their own input or asking questions.

Make the characters walk around, gesture, fidget, the whole nine yards! Break up that dialogue with visual cues the readers can latch onto to better envision the scene.

Have them joke around, maybe go off on some short tangents before quickly returning to the matter at hand.

Maybe the main character finds out one of their friends is a hacker, or into acrobatics! That contributes to both the furthering of the planning process and the building of that character!

You can also spice up that dialogue with some speech tags if it's feeling a bit stagnant! Here are some speech tags that could be useful in explaining a plan:

Asking

Asked, Demanded, Grated, Inquired, Insisted, Interrogated, Pried, Prompted, Quipped, Quizzed, Queried, Requested

Answering

Answered, Replied, Responded, Retorted

Explanations and Observations

Added, Advised, Affirmed, Alleged, Announced, Assumed, Began, Cautioned, Commented, Corrected, Deadpanned, Declared, Estimated, Explained, Guessed, Informed, Interrupted, Lectured, Mentioned, Noted, Observed, Pointed Out, Presumed, Proposed, Recommended, Remarked, Repeated, Revealed, Theorized, Told, Suggested, Supposed, Warned

Agreeing

Conceded, Confessed, Admitted, Affirmed, Agreed, Decided, Declared, Vowed

4. Use a Fresh Set of Eyes

The best way to make sure your planning scene doesn't come across as one big info-dump is to have your work be read by someone who's never laid eyes on it before.

You know your story better than anyone else. You know how the plan is supposed to go, and why they make some choices over other choices. A beta reader can be very, very important when it comes to not only picking out info-dumping, but also picking out possible plot holes.

The LAST thing you want is to have written a whole novel based around this plan, only to have a reader go "Well why didn't they just do [obvious option you didn't even think about]?"

Unfortunately...this has happened to me on multiple occasions with my current novel, which is why I've had to completely re-write it twice (these re-writes have improved the story for the better, of course, but have set me back years!)

5. Watch/Read Planning Scenes by Other Authors

Sometimes, watching or reading planning scenes can help you get a taste for the different rhythms and props used to keep it from being one big info-dump.

Of course, films and TV shows do have visuals and audio to keep watchers entertained in a way that us writers don't, but pay attention to the ways that the informative dialogue is broken up--with quips, with shots of different items, characters speaking up or moving around the room--and incorporate these narrative beats into your own storytelling!

Here are some planning scenes that you may want to look into to help spark your creativity!

Some of these are more intimate plans, some more elaborate, some involving more props/movement, and some involving more explanation!

Ocean's Eleven (2001)

Inception (2010)

The Martian (2015)

Next Three Days (2010)

The Fellowship of the Ring(2001)

Game of Thrones 7x02 (2017)

Game of Thrones 8x02 (2019)- Planning beings at 3:07

Game of Thrones has a lot of good battle strategy planning scenes, and the Ocean's franchise specializes in heist planning scenes!

Feel free to reblog and suggest more!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

#writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writers #writeblr #creative writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #tips for writers #advice for writers #help for writers

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Dude you have no idea how envious I am of your ability to not only come up with a solid idea/plot for a series, but then manage multiple main characters and their dynamics and make it a cohesive, good story. What is your secret. How do you do it. I want to start a series with multiple main characters, but I don’t know where to start. All of your world building is just brilliant and how you manage to create multiple different series all in varying fictional settings, with unique plots and characters, tell me your secrets. Please. And also how you include whump in your work without always making that the focus- >>>. You’re an amazingly talented writer and artist like holy shit.

😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️ THANK YOU SO MUCH❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I don't know how qualified I am to give writing advice, but I feel like it's important to say I definitely didn't used to be good at ensemble casts

I've written a l o t of ensemble-type stories, mostly because I used to base most of my characters on friends, and wanted to include everyone. And honestly, that can be a good place to start. The styles, traits, hobbies, etc of people you know, or even yourself, can serve as inspiration for characters. And since you've seen these hobbies and habits in action, it can give another layer of life to it :)

Something else that helps, that I actually do a lot, is using the "Five Man Band" trope as a template. The FMB consists of five characters, each with their own archetype, usually working together towards a common goal.

You have your leader (self-explanatory, the one who calls the shots); lancer (a foil to the leader, the one who questions them the most); big guy (either the most physically powerful, or the one who solves problems with fists); smart guy (the one who falls back on intelligence, usually stereotyped as a nerd); and heart (emotional center of the team, usually the most sensitive and/or best at de-escalation).

While only using the listed/expected traits can lead to flat characters, it's a pretty good foundation to start with, that can help you determine how each character fits within the story, as well as how they'd react to each situation. When creating T$$ characters, I started with this and kept building.

Some other things that I think helps when trying to characterize a big cast:

- Have a "cheat sheet" for your main characters that lists things like what phrases they tend to use, how descriptive they are, whether they use big words, what they tend to notice when they're somewhere new, etc.

- If you swap POVs, have them reference hobbies, personal history, family, etc, even if it's somewhat subtle. For example, Character A might compare a new acquaintance to a wizard in their favorite fantasy novel, and Character B might use a lot of bird-themed descriptions and metaphors because their mother was an ornithologist

- Okay, this one is slightly more out there, but playing DnD or other TTRPGs helps a lot. Creating a character and pretending to be them, especially when there are other people around who might spring scenarios on you that you don't expect, is great practice for getting into characters' heads for your writing

- Putting new characters through "what would you do" type scenarios. Not even necessarily writing a whole scene out (though that can help you solidify a voice), but just mentally Putting the Guy in Situations and figuring out how they'd react.

Really hope this was helpful, and thank you again!!

#🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ #anon #writing advice #(sorta) #fave

[chaotictarlos]

With love, your soulmate

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Mature | Warnings: Alternative Universe, Tarlos AU, Brooklyn Love Stories AU, Alternate Timelines, long-distance relationship, fluff, soulmate au, pen pal au, mentions of police cruelty 

Authors Note: I have no excuse for how long this has taken me to update. I wanted this chapter to be good, is all, and I have a hard time saying goodbye to stories lasting this long. There is only one more chapter after this one. To those of you who have continued to read, followed the journey this fic has taken, and left even a single comment I want you to know that I appreciate you a lot. I don't write many chapter fics because I'm always afraid I won't be able to finish them, but this one is one that I know I will see to the end. The last chapter, as long as life is kind to me, will be posted next Sunday. I hope you enjoy the end. As always, thank you Noxy for being my beta for this. Comments are always nice to get.

It’s been a week since TK has gotten a letter from Carlos.

TK doesn’t freak out, not now that he knows the universe is shifting their timelines and bringing them closer together. Still, it’s odd that a week has gone by and Carlos hasn’t sent anything.

Since they figured out that time is shifting, Carlos made sure that only a few days pass between letters. How he’s able to manage it, TK isn’t sure but he doesn’t question it too much because he likes getting letters from Carlos.

Besides, the longer a letter takes to reach him, the closer he gets to being with Carlos.

TK doesn’t really feel like he’s getting closer to Carlos, the days move the same for him and nothing seems to change but he knows that he’s getting closer. It’s odd how it works and it always makes TK’s brain hurt if he thinks about it too much.

So he just lets it happen, not that he has much choice, and waits for the day that he gets to see Carlos in person and really see if this soulmate thing between them is really going to work out.

He doesn’t realize just how close he’s gotten until he’s watching the news that night and wondering why he hasn’t heard from him. It’s been a little bit longer than their typically few days in between letters and while TK is a little worried, he’s trying to shrug it off and remind himself that the more days in between getting letters, the closer he is to catching up with Carlos.

Or, that’s what he hopes it means.

TK is half-paying attention to the TV, playing on his phone and debating about whether or not he should send another letter to Carlos. He worries that another letter would be too annoying but reminds himself that Carlos has told him several times that he enjoys getting all of TK’s letters and that it never annoys him when TK sends multiple ones.

Still, TK has that anxiety.

He’s just convinced himself to write a letter when the news catches his attention. They’re talking about a cop from Texas that has been severally hurt while saving a teenager from being shot. TK goes still, eyes trained on the TV because he has this feeling he knows who it is.

He really hopes it’s not.

His heart drops in the next moment when he hears “Carlos Reyes” and sees the picture of him on the screen.

READ THE REST ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker

#chaotic fics #with love your soulmate #tarlos #tarlos fanfiction #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #tk strand x carlos reyes #911 ls #soulmate au #tk strand fan fiction #carlos reyes fanfiction

[takonei]

I know I didn't post on my characters' birthdays until now, but I figured it would be a good time to start introducing several new characters of mine for the story of Bastards of Ethuline.

(Who knows when I'll actually start writing anything about them.)

I do not want to properly introduce them yet, but I will give a small introduction anyway, as they aren't exactly members of Ethuline, nor do they live in the same country for that matter.

No, today will be a small introduction to Aguja Dorada, and the four half-beast siblings who founded this infamous mafia, all born on the same day — April 12th.

-

Where beasts reign, half-beasts are left to fend for themselves against a world that hates them. Such is the rule of life. And where half-beasts struggle to survive, kindred spirits gather, outcasts find family in each other, and camps are created.

The tale of Aguja Dorada started the same way, 20 years ago, in a remote part of the country of Mexico. A family of four half-beasts decided to form a camp where their kind would be free from humanity’s hatred for them. Gathering resources, recruiting members — both other half-beasts and humans outcast from society — and fighting anyone who got in their way.

But that wish was very quickly twisted into wrath and retribution, as they were ready to do anything to achieve their goal of freedom, and that meant all acts of violence they deemed necessary. Of course, it meant becoming criminals in the world’s eyes, but such a thing was hardly a surprise, as turning their backs on humanity was the only way to survive. The family and the ragtags that went along with them ended up taking over a small town to settle in, which is now isolated from the rest of society. The group was known as a gang of beasts, and as many more half-beasts and outcast humans gathered, their reputation grew into one of a beast mafia known by the name of Aguja Dorada.

As the years passed, their iron grip strengthened over the town and the nearby lands where they hunted down trucks of food and other goods, and the situation was deemed completely out of the authorities’ control, who failed to hunt down the mafia countless times due to their sheer strength and capabilities. It was said that the four leaders were ruthless beasts who will always know if an intruder steps in their territory, and will defend it as such.

Nowadays, even though the half-beasts remain the leaders, some agents of the police have reported that far bigger beasts seem to have taken their place as the guardians of that territory, doing the dirty work the leaders couldn’t be bothered to do by themselves anymore. Curiously, while mangled corpses of policemen and military men have been reported near the mafia’s town base, no children were ever found, despite the multiple unresolved reports of kids who went missing nearby that were made over the years.

It is only recently that they managed to take down the strongest of those monstrous leaders, but after that, the rest of them became much more ruthless and hateful towards humanity, closing their borders to any and all humans, and defending their territory from trespassers viciously and brutally.

The real tale of Aguja Dorada has been lost with time, or perhaps it is because people refuse to acknowledge how it even came to be.

A tale of people who will always be remembered as heartless killers… though one might say that isn’t too far off from the truth.

#bastards of ethuline #surprise it's a whole new fuckin gang #I sure hope they're all nice and mentally stable folks #why wouldn't they be?

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @fw00shy

I’ll never stop screaming about the masterpiece that is Phoenix in the Fire - not on this list but one of my top five favourite short fics ever - but when it comes to Fwoosh, suddenly I can’t find the words to covey the way her writing cuts me raw and deep. She’s hands down one of the most talented, daring and resourceful writers I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been around for a very long time. A master of short form, her unique and bold style steal my attention right away, her sharp dialogue and unbeatable world building make me sit straighter and forget whatever’s going on around me, her impeccable prose with perfectly chosen and well-placed words takes my breath away, her tender angst makes my heart break for pining Harry, her deliciously explicit, self-indulgent smut make me sweat like a whore in the church 🥵

As if that wasn’t enough, fwooshy’s range is really impressive and she always manages to deliver a long-lasting blow with any genre, any rating and any length, but especially under 3k. Her creative mind, vibrant characters and powerful writing deserve way more recognition and that’s why everyone should go check her catalogue right now. I’ll help you out and share a short selection of goodies below - I could have chosen any 10 fics at random but I wanted to include a little bit of everything, even tropes that aren’t really my jam (hello MCD!)…. unless they’re written by her, lol 🤡 this is actually my second reclist for Fwooshy so I tried to diversify a bit, you can find the previous one here. Happy Monday with these delicious short treats!

Drarry:

Silence on the Seventh Floor (T, 970 words) - such a creative and heartbreaking drabble, love this pain-in-the-ass ghost!Draco and smitten Harry, my heart ached so much for them. Cw MCD

Draco haunted the seventh-floor corridor of Hogwarts. A Third Year found him up there one night, knocking the frames together as though trying to shake something out of them. She reported it straight to Headmaster Potter, who passed her a Cockroach Cluster and sent her off to bed with a promise to handle it.

Basement Level 9 (M, 2k) - poignant and disturbing short story with dark!Draco and a resigned Harry who loves him, plus excellent dialogue and a brilliant Ron puzzling the pieces together, ugh so good 😔🤌🏼

Draco was behind the bomb that blew up Level 10, though they didn't talk about it.

You Either Fuck or You Get Fucked (E, 2k) - the ultimate enemies to lovers PWP with scorching hate sex, crude dirty talk and top notch banter, sharp and witty! I’m obsessed with this confident Harry and their sexy push and pull, thought I’d combust on site 🔥

"That's not how fucking works. Fucking's…" Draco waved a hand in the air. "You either fuck or you get fucked." "Sure," Harry said. He took out a Sickle. "Toss for it?" Read my rec here.

10:47 am (T, 2.3k) - this series of short yet immersive slice-of-life vignettes are wonderfully original with vibrant multiple POV and such distinct character voices. One of the fics that best showcase Fwoosh’s genius writing

Scenes of lives lived out in front of an open balcony window.

Big Hands (E, 4.5k) - Victorian AU with pianist rivals, yes please!!!! Incredible world building, delightful and on point humour, unbelievable ust, that basic hand kink we all deserve AND a piano sex scene as a treat, this is rich and sexy and the atmosphere is irresistible

Draco Malfoy is a pianist who's just moved to Paris. Harry Potter, his new roommate, has the biggest hands he's ever seen. Draco is immediately obsessed. Read my rec here.

in a rambling way (T, 7.5k) - probably the softest Fwoosh fic I’ve read so far, a gorgeous and wistful break up make up with lots of pining Harry, camping shenanigans and peak road trip romance. A must read!

Ron knocked Hermione up, and now Harry's got to figure out how to clone himself so that his friends don't split up fighting over him. Falling for Draco again was never part of the plan.

Rare pairs:

In the Mood (E, 367 words) - the hottest 367 words you’ll read today, delicious established Dron feat. rough sex and feral possessive Ron hoho me gusta!

“I saw you with Harry today," Ron says. "In the Ministry cafeteria."

Money (M, 1k) - my favorite Ginsy treat out there, hot af and with an impressive amount of character and story for a short fic. Superb Pansy + superb Ginny POV, I want them both to ruin me (and then each other) pls and thank

Pansy looks like money. Ginny's letting her call the shots.

Laundry Day (E, 1.8k) - I’ve been in a Ginny/Hermione phase lately and this neighbours AU PWP is s total banger! Laundry room snogging, confident buff Gin and shy horny Hermione, excellent dynamics and really hot smut

Hermione was afraid of Ginny, because Ginny made her wet.

They Bought A Sports Bar (T, 2.2k) - another compelling femslash because yes, Fwoosh can write pretty much any ship. A fascinating take on Cho and amazing dialogue, love her subtle dynamics with this patient Ginny, and the idea of a sports bar is brilliant!

Ginny buys a sports bar (run-down biker pub, really) and ropes Cho into helping out. They're just business partners, so why does everyone else think they're more?

#hidden gems s2

[notanettelmao]

The Food Blogger [Colin x reader]

This might have a part two if enough people like it

I actually talked about writing something with Colin about a month ago, but then I went out with some friends and had a family emergency and I somehow forgot about it?? So this is not really what I planned at first, lol

tagging some of the people that sounded really interested in my idea when I posted about it: @vic-top @iputthefaninfanfics @idylio24 (sorry if it isn't what you were expecting hehe)

Fandoms: Not Okay Movie Warnings: weed, me being bad at writing stuff that sounds like Colin, Danni is being Danni... Pairings: future Colin x reader Words: 1,7k

“Okay Y/N, take a picture, post it on Instagram, post the blog post with the recipe and link it to your stories. You’ve done this multiple times, nothing’s scary about it..” The girl mumbled as she moved around her table, trying to get the best angle to take a picture of her creation. The table had a thin white tablecloth thrown over it to cover the multiple paint stains from when the girl tried to be creative. On the tablecloth, in the middle of the table, sat a black plate with pancakes on top of it. The girl managed to sprinkle more powdered sugar on the pancakes as she found the right angle. At first glance, there was nothing special about the pancakes, maybe the three raspberries on top which ended up there after she thought the brown color of the pancakes was a little boring. But if someone would eat the food, they would find out it actually had a secret ingredient. Weed. 

How did the weed end up in the pancakes of a girl who has never even touched a joint? Funny story actually, it started with her getting a new job as a food blogger. On the same day, she bumped into a particular bleached guy, who smelled like weed. Hell, you could smell him from a few meters away, that’s how bad the weed smell was. Noone at work seemed to notice it, or maybe they were just used to it at this point. There wasn’t actually anything that interesting about him, except the good looks, pretty eyes, absolutely tasty-looking lips and- the girl’s phone buzzed next to her. She groaned and turned around to pick it up from the counter to look at who texted her. 

‘U free?’ 

Was what she saw under Danni’s name on her screen. What the hell did Danni want? She hasn’t talked to her since she found out she also had the hots for Colin. They had a fight about who could possibly actually end up dating him. Let’s say Danni didn’t like the idea of him not liking either of them. 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she clicked on the call button and put the phone near her ear, using her other hand to look at the pictures she took with her camera.

“Y/N? Why are you calling me, couldn’t you just text back like a normal person?” Danni’s voice was heard from the phone speaker not even after the first beep. 

“Kinda trying to work here, figured out calling would be quicker,” Y/N mumbled into the phone, still not knowing what to think about the other girl calling her. 

“Anyway, what do you want?” She asked right after and put her camera down on the table next to the plate, walking to her couch so she could sit down. 

“I was wondering if you would want to go out to get some coffee… Talk about boys… You know, all the stuff. You didn’t respond to any of my emails so-”

“Fine, I’ll be down in five.” Y/N hung up before Danni could continue. She was already regretting her decision. But she also didn’t want to let go of one of her only work friends. A stupid fight over a boy should not end a friendship, right? 

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Danni was late. Y/N stood outside in her black sweatpants and a black baggy t-shirt with some random prints all over it. She was regretting putting on her new Vans, as she could already feel the skin on her heels protesting. She was scrolling through her Instagram, liking Colin’s new posts when a pair of white shoes appeared on the ground in front of her. She slowly looked up, noticing the brown pants and lighter-brown hoodie. Finally, she saw Danni’s face framed by two blonde strands of hair on each side, tucked behind her ears. 

“Hiii!” Danni cheered, pulling Y/N into a hug almost making her drop her phone. 

“Uh, hi,” Y/N laughed awkwardly. Danni didn’t seem to notice.

“How have you been? I saw you gained some followers after those yummy-looking weed recipes,” Danni’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned the followers. Y/N slowly blinked, realizing the other girl just wanted to boost her follower count. 

“Oh, I’ve been great, yeah…” Y/N put away her phone as they started walking down the street. Danni started talking about her wanting to get into writing and Y/N was just nodding her head, not really listening. She was mostly looking around wondering where they were going to end up. 

“No way! Je obsessed!” Danni said suddenly, making Y/N stop and look at what she was looking at. They stood in front of a tiny coffee shop called Matcha Baby. A waitress put out a sign and walked back inside.

“Influencers eat free?” Y/N read aloud. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh when she noticed Danni checking her follower count. 

“Not today,” Danni made a face and turned to continue walking when she stopped and just stared. Y/N almost bumped into her as she didn’t notice her just standing there again. 

“What the hell Da-” Y/N started to say. Then she noticed what the other girl was staring at. 

“-nni. Oh, you’ve got to be shittin’ me.” She mumbled under her breath. A few meters away from them there was a black car. They both stared as Colin stepped out of it, smoke surrounding him as he breathed it out, and started walking their way. Y/N was already moving to the side so he could walk by. Danni had other ideas. 

“Colin!” Danni exclaimed loudly, making Y/N wince. Colin stopped right in front of them.

“Oh shit. Waddup honey? Yea I can’t take a pic right now. But-” Colin said, making Y/N snort. She quickly covered her mouth but Colin already turned his attention to her. 

“Oh, I’ve seen you before?” He asked, looking Y/N up and down. She made a surprised noise, trying to ignore Danni who was plotting her murder by the looks she was giving her. 

“Oh, I- Ehm I work in the same building? Make food posts on insta and.. stuff..” Y/N cringed as her voice cracked. 

“Shiit right! You make those lit weed posts!” He looked down at his phone, quickly typing something on the screen, and then turned it to face her.

“Haven’t actually seen yo acc on my insta, just saw an article. Give me your user?” He asked. Y/N’s eyes widened and she took his phone into her shaking hands, quickly typing her Instagram username into the search bar. She then returned his phone with a shy smile on her face. 

“Sick,” he tapped on the screen, few seconds later she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming. Was this really happening?

“I work in that building too!” Danni said loudly so the two of them heard her. They both looked at each other and then turned their heads to look at Danni.

“Yeah. Anyway. I’m supposed to be going to-” Colin looked at his screen and then up at the coffee shop, “- there. Matcha Babyy. Plus my plug lives here so two birds one stone.” He waved his hand towards the building. 

“Yeah, I smoke marijuana, like, all the time!” Danni said, smiling. 

“Oh lord,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, deciding to pull out her phone and pretend she is doing something.

“Ever seen one of these?” Colin asked, lighting the weird-looking joint. Y/N quickly turned on her camera and pointed it at Danni when she saw her reaching for the joint. Danni inhaled the smoke and started coughing before she gave the joint back to Colin. Y/N was silently laughing as she sent the video to one of her friends back home. She missed Colin talking to a random fan on the other side of the street because of the spam of laughing emojis she got as a response. 

“So cool that you have a fan!” Danni said in between coughs. Colin shot a quick look at Y/N and then back to Danni.

“Oh yeah, I got a- I got a bunch. That’s just one.” He chuckled.

“So like, what are you? Like, at Depravity? I see she-” he waved his hand towards Y/N, “ is a food blogger. What are you?”

“I’m a- I’m a writer,” Danni said. Y/N rolled her eyes. Writer, sure. Colin completely zoned out taking selfies with his joint as she talked more.

“I wanna develop my work by traveling and stuff. And maybe like, going on one of those writer retreats-” That got Colin’s attention. 

“Oh, you’re going on a retreat?” He zoned out again as he got a notification. Y/N just stood there, staring at the two of them as if she was watching a movie. She only needed popcorn. 

“I’m going to Paris for it,” Danni said out of nowhere and Y/N choked on air, almost falling over. Colin looked up from his phone to Danni. 

“Shit. That’s dope. Hey, get pics,” he was ready to walk away when Danni stepped into his way, making Y/N start choking once again. 

“I’m gonna get lots of pics! Yeah. Throw them all up on the gram!” Danni made a random dance move and Y/N turned to look at the lady that was sitting on the ground next to them this whole time. They both had the same look on their faces, they were completely done with Danni.

“By the way, this was laced with, like, mad wax, so your tolerance must be OD as fuck. Damn, ma. Good luck in Paris, Jenny.” He turned to Y/N.

“Good to meet you both,” he said as he walked away.

“Danni,” Danni said, turning around to look at him walking away.

“What’s up?” He stopped and looked at her.

“My name is Danni.” 

“No, it’s Colin.” He said. Y/N busted out laughing. 

“I’ll see you at work,” Colin said, looking at Y/N. Then he turned to look at Danni.

“Or I guess I won’t.” He then walked away. Danni started laughing loudly, making both the homeless lady and Y/N look at her like at a crazy person.

“Fuck me,” Danni said as she finished laughing. 

“Fuck you indeed,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, making the homeless lady snort. 

#colin x reader #not okay movie #colin not okay #danni sanders #reader #fanfic #basically used the convo in the movie #i literally had no idea how to write the stuff he is saying so i thought of random stuff that i hate #dylan o'brien x reader

[not-a-coral-snake]

for the @lamenweek Day 5 prompt: Charls

a sequel to one of my lamen week stories from last year, which you can find here, in which Laurent is adopted as a baby by Charls's family and thus they really are both Charls, named for their grandfather Charls

Charls is trying to write a letter home. Has been trying, in practical terms, for the better part of the last two hours, and in more abstract terms, for the entirety of the last few weeks. Charls is normally an excellent correspondent, but he simply can’t figure out how to write to his parents (his actual par—his merchant par—the parents who raised him) and explain to them about his new—his royal—his birth parents. 

He misses his family desperately. Drafting, or failing to draft, the letter only emphasizes how much. He imagines his parents sitting in the parlor back at the manor, warm firelight bringing out the colors in the familiar tapestries, his mother trying to interest his father in some bit of family gossip. He imagines the chaos of family dinners, one or another of his aunts and uncles holding forth while down at the end of the table his younger cousins chattered and teased and erupted occasionally into shrieks of laughter. 

Everyone in the Veretian royal family has been very kind to him, but there is no escaping that his unexpected return has brought to the surface all the faultlines and fractures among them. 

Queen Hennike and King Aleron had, it seems, managed to continue to have a relationship—albeit, a distant and changed one—by means of a tacit agreement that neither will acknowledge the whole business of Charls’s birth. With Charls here, they cannot go on doing that, and now Hennike is not speaking to Aleron. 

The royal family does their best to welcome him into their midst, but every remedial course on statecraft, every tour of the palace grounds, every relative’s name Charls ought to know and does not, is a reminder that Charls did not grow up with them, as they feel he should have. And the inverse is true as well: King Aleron and Queen Hennike and Prince Auguste want to know what his life has been like, his childhood and adolescence, the daily minutiae of his adulthood before meeting them a few weeks ago. He has been, fearing worsening their guilt, avoiding mention of any unhappy memories. But he’s discovered that happy memories worsen their guilt too, make them contemplate all the ways things could have gone badly for him. When he describes decorating his family home for holidays, they think of how he might have grown up instead in a freezing, comfortless hovel. When he describes playing games with his cousins, getting advice from his parents, they think about how he might have grown up with cruel, cold relatives or no family at all. 

“If I tell them my favorite fruits are apples, they think about how I might have never had the chance to eat apples at all,” he mutters to himself, spiteful. Sometimes he wants to scream at them for the unfairness and irony of it all. I was the one who was abandoned at birth! I was the one who could have been left to die! Stop making your feelings my problem! He doesn’t say that to them. He won’t. 

Meanwhile, his family back home in Varenne is wondering what has happened to him, and has sent a number of letters demanding answers on that front. Where he is, what he’s doing, why he doesn’t write. Hoping he’s at least gotten a good deal out of his prolonged trip to Arles. Having a fling with an Akielon prince is all very well, multiple relatives hint or state outright, but you can’t let it hurt your work more than it helps it. 

Having a fling with an Akielon prince, while unexpected, is not incompatible with a merchant’s life. Actually being a Veretian prince obviously is. 

And Charls has been happy in his life, up until now. He doesn’t like being in this story, being the lost prince, like something out of a fairy tale. 

He can’t find a way to write to his family about Damen, either. Not with any measure of real honesty. His relatives think his relationship with Damen is, at most, a potentially-distracting fling, because Laurent had insisted to them that it was nothing more than a fling. Had insisted to Damen, and to himself, that it was nothing more than a fling long past the point when that had been accurate, because he was all right with being in a story about a commoner who’d had a fling with a prince. If Damen’s reputation is to be believed, it’s hardly all that rare anyway. He hadn’t wanted to be a prince’s star-crossed lover, doomed to be separated by barriers of status, any more than he wants to be the fairy-tale lost prince now.

So he didn’t let himself see all the ways what they were doing had become far more serious than a fling. Didn’t let himself see just how important he was to Damen. Didn’t let himself see just how important Damen was to him. 

And now, something of the opposite dynamic is at play: he is a prince, and Damen is a prince, and they are together, so it is now, inherently, a serious affair of state. Barely a member of the Veretian royal family, Charls is now potentially critical to the next stage of Veretian-Akielon foreign relations. Just as before it would have been impossible to have something lasting with Damen, now Charls finds that he and Damen are no longer in a position to stay together or split apart purely for personal reasons—whatever they do will be seen as a success or failure of statecraft. 

Which is yet another burden, another aspect to begrudge, because Charls wants to turn to Damen for comfort. Whatever they are or aren’t to each other, Damen is familiar, and kind, and understands Charls far more than is fair for a man he’s known only for barely a year. But everyone scrutinizes them, now: the king and queen and crown prince of Vere, Damen’s own staff, all the courtiers and servants and pets of the Veretian court. He and Damen have resorted to sneaking around in order to keep seeing each other more often—and in perhaps a broader variety of circumstances—than the Veretian court would like. 

Charls is discarding yet another draft of his letter when there is a sharp knock at the door, and the guard posted outside—something else he’s not used to—announces the arrival of Prince Auguste. The prince stands awkwardly, stopped halfway between the door and Charls’s desk. “Hey, Charls, I was wondering—oh, what are you working on?”

“Working on?” Charls says, as if the heaps of crumpled paper around him aren’t obvious. The prince gestures to them wordlessly. 

“Are they love letters?” Prince Auguste says, sympathy and amusement fighting to color his voice. “No, love poetry?” and now the amusement is starting to win. 

Charls says, “No, I’m trying to write a letter to,” and comes to an awkward stop. 

“To your parents?” Prince Auguste asks.

And Charls says, “Yes,” touched by the small courtesy. 

“That must be difficult,” Prince Auguste says.

“It’s evidently at least half a ream of paper difficult,” Charls says, gesturing at the papers around his feet, and the prince chuckles at that. “Anyway,” Charls says, before things have a chance to become stilted and awkward again, “what brings you here?”

“Oh,” Prince Auguste says, “I was wondering if you wanted to sneak out with me.”

“Sneak out?”

“Yes, sneak out of the palace and go drinking down in the city. In disguise, so no one will pay attention to us.” 

Charls is raising his eyebrows, and the prince plunges forward, resolute, into his explanation. “Of course, you’ll be familiar with the city and its taverns anyway, but it might be fun and different, sneaking around? I could be disguised as a merchant, and you can be disguised as, as. Well. Something else?”

“This isn’t just a whim, is it?” Charls says. 

“Not exactly.” A sheepish pause. “I mean, I used to sneak out sometimes when I was younger, generally on a whim, but—It’s something I always thought I would’ve done with a younger sibling. You know. Showing them around the city, that kind of thing.” Prince Auguste grins, then. “Though as it worked out, you can be the one showing me around the city.”

His grin remains, but Charls recognizes a tentative invitation when he sees one. “All right,” he says. “But if you’re going to be a merchant, you’ll have to wear my most elaborate hat. For verisimilitude.” 

“All right!” says Prince Auguste, and Charls grins too, because the prince hasn’t yet seen his most elaborate hat.

“Hmm, what should I be?” Charls says. “A scholar, maybe? An artist—I could smudge paint on my hands and arms, or something. A groom—we could steal some livery from the stables?”

“A sailor? We could use ink to give you maritime tattoos.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I can drink hard enough to pull that off,” Charls says, considering. “What about a street performer?” 

“I know where there’s some marionettes you can borrow from the nursery,” Auguste says, deadpan, and Charls lets himself hope this evening might actually be fun. 

* * *

Later—disguised as a troubadour, complete with borrowed lute—Charls shows Auguste his favorite tavern for people watching. Two drinks after that, Charls beats Auguste soundly at nine men’s morris, and Auguste kicks Charls’s ass at darts. One drink for Charls after that, and two for Auguste, Auguste tries to start a fight with some actual sailors, and Charls talks everyone down.

A drink after that, Auguste looks him dead in the eye and says, “Gods, but this must suck for you. Suck royally.”

“Heh,” says Charls. “Yeah, it really does.” A pause. “Not that I don’t like you all, but. . . “

“Yeah, undeniably Mother and Father are being really fucking weird to you right now. It’ll pass with time, I’m sure. I hope?”

“Yeah.”

“And the other stuff. You miss it, right?”

“Of course I miss it. It was my whole life!” It comes out harsher than Charls means. “And . . . I liked my life.”

“Yeah,” Auguste says. “Yeah, that’s . . .  fair.”

Charls sighs and puts his head down on his arms. Auguste pokes him until he sits up again. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Charls I’m going to go tell that sailor what I think about his lover again.”

“No you don’t,” Charls says, aware he’s being baited and going along with it anyway. “Auguste, no!”

“You’d better play me at morris again, as a distraction then,” Auguste says, and Charls chuckles and gets out the board.

A drink after that, they make their way back to the palace, and manage a surreptitious entrance with little of the subtlety of their exit hours before. 

* * *

It’s in the morning, waking up to a hangover and a desk still covered in crumpled pieces of paper, that Charls realizes perhaps the most important thing that happened the previous night: He’s finally managed to start calling Prince Auguste simply “Auguste” without it sounding forced.

#captive prince #lamen week 2023

[someplace-that-is-else]

'Traces of You: Part the Second'

‘So what have you been up to?’

It had been a minute since I’ve seen Hayley, one of my favorite female bartenders. We always had a great time. And good taste in music. And just like me, she was part of the San Diego hustle, running around with multiple jobs. Since she was always on the go, it was nice to see her out for a change.

Usually, we would get caught up on what was going on in our lives. We might discuss what music concerts were going on. There was also the latest bar gossip. And most importantly, I had mentioned that I was buckling down to finish up HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES.

Ah…HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES…

After making it past the point where I usually got Writer’s Block whenever I worked on my forthcoming novel, I now had a new problem. A recurring one problem that could maybe get me to a point where I stopped writing again. And what was that problem?

Mirroring.

HELLO, MY SHADOW SELF.

In my last blog (Someplace That is... Else — 'Traces of You: Part the First' (tumblr.com) ), I mentioned that I had written a plot twist for the characters of friends Shaun and Trey. And as I wrote the aftermath, the words that I found coming out of the characters’ mouths felt awfully familiar. Of course, they did. They echoed what appeared to be going on in my current life. And that…made me put the pencil down quickly.

Or as I called it above…mirroring.

Mirroring was when you were working on something. And that something just so happened to be like what was going on around you at that moment. For me, it always made me question what was going on.

This happened when I was working on DARKCHILDE. What was central to that novel was the relationship between the main character Ebony and love interest Nicholas. I felt that I’ve done a good job setting it up in DARKNED SOUL. But in the process of deepening their ‘will-they/won’t-they’ relationship in the novel, there was a scene that was totally plot that shined a light on their relationship issues.

It was in the introduction of the character Antonio. One of the oldest Nosferatu in my series. And he was also insane. And I showed, don’t tell, his insanity. From the eccentric vibe of his apartment to his appearance to his interactions between him, Nicholas, and old friend Titania and other minor characters central to the plot, the readers got to see Antonio’s insanity on full display. Part of the main plot was who was after Ebony. And Antonio tried to narrow down suspects. In his test to figure out who…he dropped some truth about Ebony and Nicholas. And those truths felt eerily familiar in terms of a relationship I was going through at the time. I immediately jumped out of the scene.

That was nothing compared to DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN’S TALE though. Fun fact…originally JONATHAN’S TALE was going to be the main novella in my short story collection DARKENED SOUL: PIECES OF A DARKENED PUZZLE. However, it took on a life of its own.

That was part of the reason I wanted to do a story on the vibe I felt from enigmatic Jonathan in DARKENED SOUL. I had no idea how much vibe and life was there. Jonathan being a quiet lover of books. Jonathan and his relationship with his father. Jonathan’s feelings about love and Ursula. There were so many moments where I had to pause because it felt…familiar. I wondered…was this a character that I was writing…or was it me? One scene involving Jonathan and his father had me in tears…right before a work meeting. It brought up feelings I thought I had overcome with my deceased father. Guess not.

And now there I was again with HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES. It was happening again with Shaun, Trey, and the plot twist.

I managed to continue to write. That was good for me because that meant there was no Writer’s Block to worry about. It definitely gave the back half of the novel some momentum. Meanwhile, their other friends Eugene and Omar had a nice subplot going on.

BUT? HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES was supposed to be about the pitfalls of an interracial relationship. It was also about the bounds of black friendships. What I did not expect was to find my main character with not one love interest, but TWO. And given the qualities of the two guys, I found myself as indecisive as Shaun over who he should be with. Also…the qualities in the guys…was VERY familiar.

I was friends with someone. We were associates at one point. Always discussing life. We became good friends after the pandemic. Nothing like death hanging over you to make a person love the connections around them. I was no difference. He told me about his problems. And he watched me stubble through potential relationships.

And then…it got complicated.

Let’s say my friend turned out to not be immune to my charms. And I was oblivious to that fact. Until I wasn’t. It got to a point where I could no longer deal with it. Too many questions. Like how people would see us if we were to get together. Questions like was our differences even possible to manage because we both had our own beliefs that we carried around and were constantly changing. Questions like…was he worth the risk or wait?

As if seeing some of these questions being worked on with Shaun and his love interests weren’t enough, I started to notice the dialogue was getting pointed. Almost as if my characters wanted me to make up my mind about my own life. Not unlike what happened with DARKCHILDE and DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN’S TALE.

And with all those questions whirling around in my head, it came as no surprise when it happened.

I couldn’t finish my novel. Shaun couldn’t pick between his love interests. And I…couldn’t decide on the ending.

Stuck.

THE CHOICE

Another day, another appearance at Lestat’s.

I had grown tired of being stuck. So what else could I do but write. So I figured a change of scenery might get me to come to some conclusion on how I wanted HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES to end. And goodness knows Lestat’s had good coffee.

But…nope. A few times I even got teary-eyed writing. While it was building to a head nicely, Shaun still couldn’t make up his mind. Neither could his author. Some days were better than others.

And I couldn’t help but wonder why? Was it really that hard for me because of the characters, or was it hard because it was mirroring my own life?

I thought about that Ryan Reynolds article often. I mentioned it, the one he did with Best Life. His talk about happiness as he was raising up through the acting ranks. And what kept resonating to me was so small, but so significant.

Happiness is a choice. It was a choice that most people did not make.

I didn’t want to be like most people. And I knew how much HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES was important to me. From the years I’ve been working on it. To hearing my deceased friend Mr. Moore in my head, always encouraging me. To my father who had also passed, wanting me to be doing what I dreamt of doing. To see the look on my bartender friend Matt’s face when he saw the ‘passion project’ was done…and in his hands…SIGNED.

I haven’t finished a book since 2020. And what I wanted to be doing was writing. That was what was going to make me happy. So…wasn’t it time to be done? Wasn’t it time to be happy?

So…I made my choice.

Same time tomorrow?

THE PATH FORWARD

Pure and utter chaos.

That was how I described the climax and closing chapters of HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES. Rebuttals. Debates. Catfights. Fashion. The Hamptons. You would have thought it was the Real Housewives of Miami, not a gay novel. Hehe.

But then…there it was again. The very thing that I was avoiding. The ending.

I felt that I had set it up well enough. Shaun had had a moment with both of his love interests. Readers got to see the interaction. The chemistry. But the real question persisted…who would Shaun pick?

Hmm…good question. And as I sat in Lestat’s, I did not know what to say. My current personal situation blended into both love interests. Should Shaun take Offer 1 with all of its complications, or should he go for Offer 2 which would be a sure bet though it was not without its own complications? Who would make him happy? How could he choose? If his author could not pick in his current life, what were the odds that the character would pick any better?

Ryan Reynolds’s words came back to me again. So as I sat in Lestat’s, I asked myself…what would Shaun want to make him happy. After some shade, a lickback, and a run out with tears, I wrote what Shaun’s choice was. I also got to write words, I never thought I would get to.

The end.

Would readers like it? I was not sure. I was sure that I would get interesting responses. As for the traces of me in my novel…well…it was a given that that would show up in my work. I thought there were some lessons to learn from it. But as long as I trusted my intuition, it was all good.

#writing #ryanreynolds #menshealth #mirroring #mirror #sandiego #shadowself #happiness #choices #blog #ending #rhom #lestats #passionproject #paths #inspiration

#writing #ryan reynolds #menshealth #mirroring #mirror #san diego #shadow self #tvd #happiness #choices #blog #ending #rhom #lestats #passionproject #paths #inspiration

[lost-decade]

Heyyy!!! So the fic questions!!

1 / 11 / 16 / 22 / 23 / 39 / 40

(I hope is not too much tho)

Hey! Thank you so much for asking, and sorry this took me so long.

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

This is a good question. I do enjoy both but I tend to gravitate towards one-shots purely because I'm not a particularly fast writer and I find it much easier to write fics that are around the 5K words mark.

Also I don't think my stories have a great deal of structure and I don't tend to do much plotting most of the time, which I think is something that you need to do with longer fics.

When I do hit on an idea though and manage to work out an end point, that's when I can really get into writing longer fics. A couple of my WIPs at the moment are multi-chaptered and I'm loving working on those.

I think as well, I worry that I won't be able to finish multi-chaptered fics, like I'll eventually lose interest. Which is why I don't generally post fics until they're complete. Although the James/Max I posted the first chapter of this weekend will definitely be finished, even if no one is interested lol.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

This is hard as there are a lot of great fics out there but I'm lazy and don't go into the ao3 tags very often, instead I rely on recs from friends and I'm also guilty of rereading a lot of my old faves multiple times.

Looking at my history/bookmarks, these are three that I've recently read and loved:

that one from work can come over on monday night - Lovely Landoscar getting together WIP from @verycoolwearsleather. This is the kind of slow burn that I absolutely adore.

last chance saloon - Lewis/Jenson on the night of Jenson's retirement

Ode to a conversation stuck in your throat - Gorgeously written galex set across the 2022 season

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

At the moment there's just a couple. Tbh there's not a lot of pairings I'm very enthusiastic about atm. There are pairings I enjoy reading if the writing is good but that I wouldn't write myself.

I've probably written Max/James to death this year and as there won't be any new interactions between them going forward I think that will fizzle out for me soon. I would dearly love to be into an F1 pairing enough to write it but there isn't one that I'm into enough or would feel confident enough to write. I enjoy writing Max G because he's so private and that provides a lot of scope for character building because you only have the basics to work from.

I'm rambling so much lol sorry. Anyway, back to the question. At the moment there's a James/André fic I'm working on set in 2033 where André gets divorced, has a breakdown, goes to therapy and realises he's been in love with James for years while they do a classic car rally in Italy.

Also the concluding part in my Max/James series, where they split up and then work through some shit. And that's about it really. I mean, there's also a lot of random bits and pieces that I've abandoned.

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I wouldn't say there's anything I'm dead set against writing, but ones that spring to mind that just don't interest me are a/b/o dynamics, high school AUs, fics with many multiple pairings. Actually mpreg is a very big no. Anything involving pregnancy majorly squicks me, regardless of gender.

I'm crap at writing anything technical about actual racing either. I tend to swerve that and concentrate on shippy stuff.

Also I generally don't have a lot of interest in writing established relationships. What I really love is the getting together, the figuring each other out and working through the obstacles. Once those things have been resolved and it's all plain sailing then it's mission accomplished for me from a writing point of view. Unless we're talking horny one-shots/PWPs and then how long they've been together is often inconsequential.

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

Don't get too tied up in worrying about how whatever you're writing is going to be received. Also, I find what is a huge help with motivation and confidence is having someone you can bounce ideas off and go to for advice if you're not sure if a certain scene/idea is working. Shoutout to @zeraparker, and @verycoolwearsleather for this.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

From my André/James 2033 roadtrip fic:

Andre leans back against the sink vanity, marble cool beneath his palms. For a moment he’s half jealous, but more curious; him and James never talk about relationships though, unless you count the excruciating attempts the other night to discuss Ania. James is a catch, the type of guy Andre would have expected to be married with a kid by now, yet instead he’s here in Gordes with Andre, dressed like some new romantic popstar in leather pants and pale silk shirt. He gets away with it in a way that Andre isn’t sure he himself does. Surely there's someone.

They don’t talk to each other about that sort of thing, not in a serious way.

“Just wondering who's bed you’re going to end up in at the end of the night.” He gestures to James’ outfit. “This suits you mate.”

James smiles but there’s something in his expression that Andre can’t read, there then gone.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Ooh this is hard. I'd be honoured with anything tbh! A couple of thoughts having scrolled through my fics: Daniel and Cyril kissing in the hotel corridor from Only Memories

The jeandre bedsharing from Protège-moi (although we do have the actual video from that lol)

And ahem, well. Max G in lingerie, from satin sheets and luxuries so fine

~

Get to know your fic writer!

#fic asks

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Can we get a side story of peter hangout with just dan and maybe ox, like spider-man can kick and punch but doesn't have formal combat training so maybe dan could teach him some moves and stances. Something so peter can spend time with his other uncles and interact with them. *There was a comic where black cat did train spider-man formal combat and it improved his fighting a lot over time. And in TSSM we did see a glimpse of her holding her own with dan during prison episode*

I suck at writing training lol.

Peter yelps as his legs are swept out from underneath him again.

“Your stance isnt strong enough kid. I shouldn't be able to knock you down so easily. Now plant your feat like this.”

Dan helps him up and then helps Peter with his stance. He offers a bit more resistance to the next kick but still manages to be on the floor after a minute.

“Better! Good! Up you get.”

Peter glows a little at the praise. Dan had been kind enough to offer to give him some training. He really enjoys learning new skills, especially from those who know exactly what they are talking about. And Dan is certainly one of the best fighters Peter knows. After they work on stances, Dan walks him through some footwork and escaping holds. Peter is a lot better at escaping holds than anything else they have done all afternoon, but he has to be extra careful not to harm his uncle. He wiggles and escapes another hold, hopping away with a grin as he settles into one of the fighting stances that Dan had just taught him. Dan takes the invitation and they start a small scuffle using the things that Peter had just learned.

Plant the feet. Keep breathing steady. Wiggle out of a hold. Step to avoid a kick. Move. Breathe. Fight. Peter finds himself bending and moving, having to really pay attention since his spidey-sense just barely whispers if it makes any noise at all. It feels like a dance fighting with his uncle like this. Without any danger or stress, or constraints on time or outside interference. Peter finds himself smiling and laughing, even as he is flipped to the floor and forced to scramble and move to be able to get back up to his feet to keep fighting. Dan manages to pin him to the floor a bit later and Peter taps out. 

Dan rises and offers a hand. Peter takes it and gets up.

“You did great kid. Let's go grab some food. Anything you want. My treat.”

Peter lights up.

“Really? You think so?”

“One of the best students I've had Peter.”

Dan says, and it sounds so sincere, especially paired with the side hug. Peter feels his spider-sense purr in contentment as he leans into his uncle with a grin. 

“Thanks, uncle Dan.”

“Now. Food. Where are we off to?”

“Ooh, there's actually a really good bakery just a block away.”

“Sounds good to me kid.”

They walk out together, with Dan’s arm still over his shoulder. Peter tilts his head and asks a question.

“Why did you learn so many different styles of fighting?”

“At first it was a way to survive. Then as I got older I became fascinated with figuring out how to mix and pick from multiple styles and see what best worked for me.”

“Survive?”

Peter asks blinking a little.

“I was shoved around a lot as a kid growing up. Being shorter and bonier than most of my classmates often ended up with bruised and bloody skin. Home wasn't nice either. So I figured out how to be light on my feet and fight.” Dan rolls his shoulders a little. “I watched a lot of training through a dojo window at a place an hour’s walk from home. I practiced the moves at home. The owner noticed me after a while and instead of shooing me off she let me come in and actually learn. Let me keep coming despite having no money. It was good to have a safe place to go.”

Dan then shrugs like the story is nothing. Peter bit shocked and blinks slowly. He carefully leans a little more into his uncle who gives a confused face but a gentle squeeze. Dan speaks again.

“What are you planning on eating at this place?”

Peter takes a second to process and store the information for later.

“Uh, chocolate croissant.”

“You and that sweet tooth of yours.”

Dan teases and Peter smiles. The atmosphere instantly lightens as the two make their way into the bakery.

#hermes speaks #ask hermes #spider nephew au #forgot this was in my drive ngl #tssm #tssm fancy dan #tssm peter parker

[thatbanditqueen]

the new chapter of the only sure thing is SO GOOD!!! i have many thoughts!!! I love how midge is growing into her own, and i know so much of it is emphasising her immaturity by her focussing so much on the concept of her maturity but i feel like there was a real shift this chapter to her being able to genuinely stick up for herself (even if she still ends up back with him) or at least recognise that her decisions are now her own in more ways than before.

I’m so pleased they seem to be getting there (albeit i’m sure with more drama to come) and that Elvis is being *slightly* less of a dick than before, although I'm not convinced that will stay true lol.

Every time I read/re-read a chapter of yours I'm consistently blown away by how naturally you write the dialogue in particular - it feels so true to the time, and to the people without it going overboard or cringy and I'm just always in awe of how you manage it!!!!

As always, I'm anxiously awaiting more whenever you have the inspiration and time!!

xxx

Oh my love.... I was rereading this morning and thinking I got way too cringy and melodramatic in the dialogue.... so um thanks for writing this and for your thoughtful words. This story is about growing up, honestly, for both of these idiots, and I'm trying to figure that out as I write this (so sorry this is my guinea pig and you are all my test subjects) but I just know for myself that "growing up" or becoming mature or making good life choices, well, doesn't always happen in a linear way. And the fun thing about writing Elvis is that there are always so many external factors that at any one moment these characters could be faced with a difficult choice that needs to be made quickly or is made impulsively and has long term repercussions they cannot begin to anticipate. Something I struggle with two is how to write love when one character is do decidely incapable of monogamy... because we know Elvis was a romantic too, he at least believed himself in love with multiple women at the same time... and so making this relationship special but also grappling with him as a someone who was not monogamous is a part of my fic writing, and I struggle with it as I try to accomplish it.... all of that is to say yes... more drama ahead... but I see the next two to three chapters being a smutty reprieve from the melodrama, so stay tuned.... and golly gee jiminy thanks for taking the time to send this, it is so lovely and thoughtful and you what, fuck, I goo back and read your messages when life is unbearable, it really means a lot... glad you are on tumblr and for your writing and comments and participation :)

xoxo

norah

#hollywood elvis #elvis x oc #the only sure thing #elvis presley #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfic #bandit queen asks

[burstingsunrise]

2022 Writing Evaluation

thanks for the tag bella @clumsyclifford​! thinking about writing and stats is weird for me in a lot of ways right now but I thought this might be a nice way to try to reflect on it in a constructive way.

1. number of stories posted on ao3: 21

2. word count posted for this year: 341,517

3. fandoms i wrote for: 5sos

4. pairings: cake, muke (I know what I like)

5. story with the most kudos/bookmarks/comments: 

Kudos - for real

Comments - this city screams your name (which makes sense because chapters) but then there’s a massive drop to a ton of fics that all have about the same amount.

Bookmarks - new shapes and for real are tied

6. work i’m most proud of (and why): 

hmm. I think probably for real? It’s the longest fic I’ve ever written and one of the few this year that generally came fairly easily for me overall. i really thrive in a world where I can just describe Luke in a way that feels very true to actual Luke but also am scared of canon friends to lovers, so famous aus are a sweet spot.

And I guess maybe interlude too, because I hadn’t really done a “big” muke fic in a long time, and it was challenging, but in an overall rewarding way.

7. work i’m least proud of (and why): 

I guess I don’t often feel good about a fic before I post it these days, but there’s not necessarily one that stands out here as something I’m least proud of. 

I’ve posted a few fics this year that have just been lingering wips I managed to wrap up, and they tend to feel the most incomplete to me, like lowercases and capitals and keep these dreams. I feel like you can tell that I originally wanted more for them and just didn’t have the inspiration to make it happen.

8. share or describe a favorite review you received:

Meg read my muke! And made a meme!

9. a time when writing was really, really hard:

It’s been hard all year. Especially the second half of it, there were multiple times I wasn’t sure I’d ever finish another fic. And I’m still kind of in that space of…I’ll keep trying to write, but I can’t guarantee anything will get done. 

I think some of that is just because after writing for the same fandom for a certain amount of time, it’s kind of hard not to just feel like you’re repeating yourself, which saps inspiration. There’s also so little engagement with fic these days that it’s hard to actually tell if your writing is any good, which makes motivation difficult for people like me who don’t write specifically for engagement but DO have a strong desire to Be Good.

That said, I’ve still managed to post a lot of content, so the way my brain is processing this isn’t necessarily in sync with reality, and that’s something I can try to be aware of and try to reframe when I get in my head about it.

Above paragraph brought to you by meg encouraging me to be positive and celebrate the work I’ve done this year.

10. a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

Maybe comfortable silence Luke. He really turned into something a lot more nuanced than I expected. 

that fic in general became a lot different and more than i expected. it wound up being maybe the most “real” thing i’ve ever written and ever will write.

11. a favorite excerpt of your writing: 

Oh god. um. That would require me to remember what I write. I literally have no idea. There are some scenes that stand out, like the beginning of for real when calum and luke meet for the first time at the coffee shop, and the porch scene in new shapes.

12. how did you grow as a writer this year? 

I’m not sure that I did. And I don’t mean that in a bad way necessarily. I just feel like I fell into a groove in 2022 and have not really grown but am also quite comfortable in my groove.

13. how do you hope to grow next year? 

I think to grow as a writer I need to work on my perspective in terms of what counts as “success,” what are reasonable expectations to have for myself, and learning how to be better about dealing with the times I don’t feel inspired. Figuring out how to do that in a more constructive way mentally.

And, in answering the next question, I thought of another thing - I tend to assume people don’t want to hear about my writing unless they ask directly. So I stew in things a lot. I get stuck, I get frustrated, and I feel like no one cares, so I just don’t talk about it. But when I do manage to talk about it with the right people (see below), it’s always helpful. so maybe trying to get out of my own head more and be more proactively open about my writing.

14. who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc)?

Meg @kaleidoscopeminds​. It’s meg. In so many ways. Not just in terms of supporting and encouraging my writing and helping me through sticky spots, but also being my audience. Like even if no one else reads a fic, I know meg will, and that makes it worth posting.

Aria @calumthoodshands​ has also been a key influence here by being an idea machine, always prepared with suggestions. Not to mention the moodboard she made for comfortable silence before it was finished, which ended up inspiring several scenes in the fic.

15. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year? 

there’s at least one fic that’s very specific to personal experiences in many ways, but I think generally the way real life sneaks into my fics is through little details. Things that have happened to me, things that have happened to someone I know, or just things that I talked about with someone. Like in the spirit is the direct result of a “real” conversation with meg, even if nothing in it is remotely real.

16. any new wisdom you can share with other writers? 

I think last year I talked about writing something even if it means writing out of order or jumping between docs. And I still think that’s good advice for a lot of writers.

Beyond that though…this year has been all about learning to create in an environment where it doesn’t feel like the content is really being consumed. Finding ways to be okay with sending a fic out into the world and not really knowing how it’s received. Which is something I’m still working on.

17. any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year? 

This is going to sound more negative than it is - but not really, no! I have a couple WIPs that I might at some point get inspired to finish - including podcast cake! But I have no big ideas for new fics, and I don’t have anything I’m currently working on that I feel enough strong inspiration about that I’m confident I’ll finish. 

But you never know when something will hit, and there’s something nice about the sense of possibility there.

18. tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: 

@ashtcnirwin @calumthoodshands @daydadahlias​ @crossedwiress​

#tag games #writing #i have a complicated relationship with stats and reflecting on my writing but #i wanted to try to do this and maybe set a positive tone going into 2023 #like yeah idk what i'm doing but maybe i can be okay with that u know!