#but this specifically because of the no write November/strike thing going on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

let-them-read-fics · 2 years

Text

Left Behind

Pairing: Jiu x Fem!Reader (and platonic relationships with the other members)

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~ 7,890

Requested By: @3and30aresoultwins

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey guys! This was a bit rushed and I’m not entirely in love with it, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Feel free to leave DC requests in my inbox / messages! :)

💖 Happy Reading 🌹

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

Life can change in the blink of an eye. Plans you make for the future that you envision can crumble with no warning, leaving you to pick up the pieces and find yourself all over again.

Dreams can go down the drain just as easily as the blood, sweat, and tears it took to make them possible in the first place. Luck can run out.

All of those things can happen, and you knew that. You just never expected them to happen to you.

–

It was a late November day in 2016 when the world as you knew it changed forever.

Happyface Entertainment had requested that you come in separate from the other members to discuss an important matter. Vividly, you remember how vague they were over the phone; they refused to elaborate on what the meeting would be about. Their voices were soft, holding a carefulness in their tone that you didn’t fully understand until later.

It was regret – because they knew what you didn’t. They knew that your impending removal from the group loomed overhead, waiting like a cobra to strike once you arrived.

And strike, it did. Sitting in the meeting room – which was far too bright and far too suffocating – you grappled with the fate you’d just received. Your heart felt heavy, and your head hurt as it all sunk in.

MINX would be rebranding as ‘Dreamcatcher’ and adding two new members, but you wouldn’t be joining them. You hadn’t made the cut.

Just like that, it was over. Years of your life as a trainee, down the drain. So much pain and hard work, all for nothing. So many sacrifices. So many late nights. They hadn’t gone into detail about why you were turned down specifically, and that was probably a good thing, all things considered. It would’ve just been salt in the wound.

An offer was made for you to stay at the company and potentially continue as a soloist, but you declined it. It was a proposition made from pity at best, and you knew it. How could you have accepted? If they had such little faith in your abilities as a member of a group, you couldn’t imagine it would’ve been magically restored for your solo activities. You refused to become a half-hearted money grab that they could fall back on whenever they needed to; it wasn’t fair to you. With the rebranding set in motion, attention and focus would’ve been placed entirely on the girls; you’d have been made to wait in the meantime with no real end in sight, and it was unlikely you’d ever receive a similar level of support.

You’d have become the company’s has-been. Its resident outcast.

And the prospect of joining another company – if you were even lucky enough for that – was just as daunting. After training and growing up with the girls in such a way for so many years of your life, you couldn’t imagine going solo or joining another group.

That wasn’t something you wanted. And, of course, given the blow that the company’s decision had dealt to your confidence, you felt incapable. You were too overwhelmed to be there any longer with all of their eyes on you, judging in one way or another.

So while you still had enough composure over yourself, you bid farewell to them and left, leaving behind a part of yourself in the process.

The real challenge came, though, when you had to say goodbye to the girls. They all handled the news differently, in their own ways, but it wasn’t something they could process easily at all.

Sua was prepared to leave the dorm and have an angry word with the higher ups, but you stopped her before she could. It wouldn’t have done any good; if anything, it could’ve put her in jeopardy, too, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Siyeon went quiet as the idea of moving on without you sunk in. How could she part ways with someone she’d grown so close to? You were supposed to live out your dreams together. It wasn’t fair.

The normal spark in Yoohyeon’s eyes dimmed, and she retreated into herself. Her bubbliness dissipated in an instant, replaced by more sadness than she knew what to do with. She was the first to begin crying, and she sought the comfort of your arms when it became too much for her to handle alone.

Dami, ever the reasonable one, was determined to phone the higher ups and talk some sense into them. She was convinced that if the other members all banded together and expressed their disapproval in a logical way, they would have no choice but to give you a chance, at the very least. But you stopped her for the same reason that you had stopped Sua. They had made themselves clear at the meeting, and you knew in your heart that their minds were made up.

You didn’t notice the tears in Dami’s eyes until you took her phone out of her hand and put it on the table beside her. When you brought her into your arms for a hug, they fell onto your shirt, warm and full of sadness. She hated feeling helpless more than anything else in the world, and knowing there was nothing left to do broke her heart.

Watching it all unfold was Jiu. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it; it felt like she was having a nightmare. How could they have turned you away like that? You were just as good at your job as any of them, and you were one of the most dedicated people she’d ever known. The fans loved you. Your talent showed without you even trying; it made no sense that they would let you go so easily.

She tried to stop her tears from falling, but when you finally looked up at her, surrounded by the other members, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

You had been her rock ever since she met you – her safe place. She could express her worries and concerns freely with you, despite her position as leader. Hell, you were just as much of a leader to the girls as she was. Your consistency and energy held everything together, and the members depended on you, always. She depended on you more than words could explain; you were the first and last thing on her mind most days. You kept her level headed when she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and you never let her lose sight of her goals.

Losing the backbone of the group seemed unfathomable in every way. Never in a million years would she have expected it to happen.

But beyond that, Jiu felt like she was losing two people. Y/N – the member of her group – and Y/N – the woman she had harbored secret feelings for for as long as she could remember. She had planned to confess soon, but the opportunity for that was stripped away from her by this news of your departure. Her heart broke as she realized that you wouldn’t be in the dorm anymore; all those early morning and late night conversations and hang outs wouldn’t happen anymore. She wouldn’t be able to just walk to your room when she missed you, or hit you up with spontaneous plans whenever she felt like it. You’d be miles away and busy building whatever life you chose in the wake of this.

And the new members? They could never replace you. Not in a million years.

But she made a vow to never take her resentment for the situation out on them, because at the end of the day they were just striving to achieve their dreams as well. And besides, she knew you wouldn't have wanted her to be angry at them. Though, even still, she knew she'd always think of you when seeing them. A disappointment – a longing – would always remain in her heart, lamenting over what could've been.

Because, at the end of the day, things would never be the same again. No matter how much you tried to stay in contact, conflicting schedules and prior engagements would eventually get in the way. Frequent calls and check ins would fade, becoming few and far between. Communication would be more difficult, given the distance. Nothing would compare to having you by her side in all the ways she had for the past few years.

It all hit her at once, like an icy slap to the face. She tried to stay strong for everyone, but it was one of the hardest pills that she’d ever had to swallow.

When you called her over and wrapped your arms around her, it took every bit of courage she had to keep from breaking down. As you wiped her tears and held her close, she tried to commit the feeling of it all to memory. She wanted to store it somehow, so that her body could never forget it. Her nails dug into the material of your shirt with purpose, and you simply hugged her harder at the feeling.

You had no idea that she was in love with you. You were oblivious to it in the most heartbreaking kind of way. But she knew it was too late to tell you now. Putting that on you in the midst of everything else didn’t feel right, no matter how much she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She wanted to find a way to justify it, selfishly, so that she didn’t have to deal with the reality of it alone. She wondered if maybe, if things were different, you would’ve felt the same.

It killed her, knowing that she couldn’t have you. Knowing that you were slipping right through her fingers and she was powerless to stop it. She’d have to pretend to be unfazed from now on, but she knew anytime she’d enter the dorm or company building you’d be the first thing on her mind.

Her eyes would automatically go to the spot you would’ve been in. Choreographies now arranged for seven would always feel a little foreign, in the back of her mind. All the little things were already piling up, and she didn’t think that time was capable of easing the strain they placed on her heart. When it came to someone like you, so interwoven into her daily life and routines, she couldn’t fathom even spending a full week apart.

But the kiss that you pressed to her cheek reminded her that you were still there for the moment. The brush of your soft skin against hers as she nuzzled her head into the crook of your neck brought her peace and calmed her down.

For now, she could still reach out and touch you. She could call you whenever she wanted to. Whip up a snack for you and show her affection in all the many ways that she loved to. For now.

The company had informed you that they would only give you until the start of the next week to pack your things and find a new living situation before you were officially removed.

It was all so fast. Too fast, for any of them to properly handle. You all knew it would be one of those things that you never fully got over. Just one of life’s cruelties.

But for the last few days that you had left together, the girls promised to remain at your side. Between packing and bouts of crying, you’d do your favorite activities together. Movies and ice cream would be used to cope, with your sobs excused by whatever sad displays were playing out on the TV. You could go out on the town, order in, sing karaoke in the early hours of the morning, relax quietly – anything. They were determined to make them some of the most special days that you’d ever known.

After all, you deserved nothing less. Their shining star: Y/N.

—------------

Time Jump

For a while, things were relatively fine in the aftermath. You settled into the routine of your new life, living on the outskirts of Seoul and working at a quaint coffee shop that had happened to be hiring. The owners graciously allowed you to live in the small apartment above the café, and they treated you well.

The girls each found time to spend with you, whether it be to shop, relax somewhere together, or just catch a meal at one of your favorite restaurants. They called and texted often, always making sure that you were doing well and taking care of yourself. They never failed to mention how much they missed you and how boring things were without you.

On exceptionally beautiful Spring and Summer days, Jiu would do her best to have a floral arrangement sent to you. Her favorite flowers were paired with the ones you loved most, and a big bow usually held them all together. Sometimes, a short handwritten note even accompanied them.

If you were craving a specific food and mentioned it online somewhere, every now and then someone (who you later found out was Sua) would have a fresh batch of it delivered to your doorstep. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did you felt so cared for.

Siyeon made sure to include you in Dreamcatcher activities, whether it be by using your representative emoji / animal in posts or doing a certain hand sign that you had more or less claimed as your own during your time with them. It was subtle, but it meant the world to you.

Yoohyeon sent you letters and pictures from time to time. Following a short vacation to Jeju that the girls went on together, she sent you a handwritten letter and some polaroids that they took with you in mind.

In a solo project that Dami did, she added some subtle call outs to your situation and how unfair it was. Clearly, she was still as upset about the situation as before, and she missed how things used to be.

They all even posted special messages on their Instagram accounts whenever your birthday rolled around, ensuring that you felt included.

But, as all good things do, their efforts started to fade after a while. Their schedules picked up during comeback season; events were held that kept them tethered to either their practice rooms, beds, or the stage; and other avenues of life got in the way.

They faced more backlash than before, too, on the rare occasions that they were seen out with you. Some fans were still supportive and glad to see you, but others expressed their wishes for you to get a life and accept that you weren’t a part of the group anymore. Their comments and heckling were hurtful, adding salt to your still-sensitive wound; but you knew it upset the girls on top of that, and arguably, that hurt you more than anything the haters could’ve ever said.

By then, you’d grown used to the harsh comments about yourself. But the girls never did; anytime they read or heard them, their once-happy smiles would always fade, and the shine in their eyes would dim as they looked at you. So many emotions were present, yet they remained unspoken. A million things, all too big and complicated for words.

You knew then that your time with them was dwindling. Every visit seemed to be a little shorter, or interruptions from the company would spring up. Juggling everything was weighing on them, and you could see it clear as day.

So you decided then that you would distance yourself. For the sake of everyone, you let your connections slip away, just enough. You’d learned over the months that fading away gradually and quietly hurt the least and was the most effective, and so you chose that path.

For the most part, it worked. Other than on major holidays or birthdays, they were too busy to stop you or change things. Their texts came in less frequently, and video calls were few and far between.

Although it pained you, you learned to live without them.

It was more difficult than you expected, especially in the beginning; you’d underestimated just how much they’d impacted even the smallest parts of your life. When good news came or you wanted to share something you’d learned, it was always your first instinct to pick up the phone and dial up their numbers. Sometimes you found yourself looking through old pictures and reminiscing on the memories that were tied to them.

But you had to let go of that. Those habits that you picked up after years of being around them didn’t serve you anymore, and you had to break them.

When it rained, you no longer allowed yourself to remember the way that Yoohyeon would cling to you under your umbrella after realizing she had misplaced hers.

When the rich scents of the nearby forest flitted their way over towards the coffee shop, you didn’t let your mind wander onto what Siyeon was up to.

The warmth of the Sun didn’t remind you of Jiu’s smile.

Loud laughter from patrons didn’t conjure up an image of Sua anymore.

And quiet Fall afternoons passed by the turning pages of whatever book you were reading didn’t make you think of Dami’s quiet charm.

You didn’t allow the little moments to take you back, because you knew you’d never want to leave that state of mind if they did. It was undoubtedly one of the hardest challenges you ever faced, but you did it nonetheless.

—------

Two Years Later

It all started in time with the changing of the seasons. You were certain of it.

As the anniversary of MINX’s disbandment neared, a heavy feeling came to visit you again, like an unwelcome guest.

The warmth faded. What few leaves were left on the trees made their final leap to the solid ground below, joining the swaths of others there to wither away. The skies were cloudy a lot of the time, basking the new season in an eerie haze. It wasn’t satisfactory at all – nothing like what that time of year is usually like, and nothing like what people look forward to. The approaching holiday season was off to a lackluster start by all accounts.

But you did your best to persevere.

Your job kept you busy most of the time, and you were grateful for that. Had it not, you would’ve spent the hours stuck on the past and wondering what you would’ve been up to at a time like this. Fansigns? Behind the scenes for a new music video? Song writing?

Any lull in the flow of customers allowed you to think, and you didn’t want that. Having no thoughts seemed better than having too many, after all.

But on one fateful afternoon, something unexpected happened. Destiny intervened – interrupting the monotonous flow that your life had taken on – and enabled the universe to work its magic.

In Your Apartment

You had just sat down to eat a nice late lunch that you had prepared. The café owners had left town to visit some relatives for the evening, and so they gave you the rest of the day off.

The television in front of you came to life as you pressed the buttons of the remote, and a garbled stream of changing colors and graphics washed across the room as you flipped through the available channels in search of something worthwhile to watch.

You eventually found something halfway decent and began eating.

It was a simple sandwich that you had purchased from the store, paired with a salad. Nothing fancy, but it was still tasty.

No more than five bites in, your phone began to ring on the coffee table in front of you. You sighed and reached out for it, ready to flip it over and see if it was someone you could ignore or not.

Once you saw who it was, though, you froze.

A smiling picture of Jiu lit up its screen, bright and achingly beautiful. It had been so long since she’d called that you almost forgot how to act.

Should you even answer?

“Hello?” You asked, attempting to hide the nervous lilt in your voice.

“Ah, Y/N,” she greeted, a smile evident in the words, “...hi.”

You sat your fork down, curious as to why she was calling you so out of the blue.

“I was wondering if you’d like to hang out with the girls and I after our performance today. We’ve missed you a lot and we want to catch up,” she explained, as if she read your mind. She was straight to the point, and you both loved and hated that.

Part of you wanted her to trade the usual niceties that come when you haven’t talked to someone in a long time, but deep down you knew that reverting to small talk with her wouldn’t have felt quite right either.

“I–”

“But it’s totally okay if you don’t want to!” She interrupted in a rush, pushing the words out like her life depended on it.

Her panic was endearing; it almost sounded like a teenager asking out their crush, if you thought about it.

You chuckled lightly, oblivious to the way it made her heart speed up. “I was going to say that I’d love to, Jiu. What time?”

This could be a huge mistake, but she had a way of working past your defenses in an instant, even after all this time.

Her sigh of relief was audible, though you were sure she didn’t intend for it to be. It just made you smile even more.

“We should be finished up here at Show Champion around seven, so how about eight? That’ll give us time to go to the dorm and freshen up first.”

Your smile faltered at her mention of the dorm. “Sounds good,” you agreed. “Where should I meet you?”

She pulled the phone away from her ear and called for the girls, quickly asking for suggestions. A bittersweet smile graced your lips at the image of them in your mind, all thinking hard and throwing out ideas while gathered around her. It brought back so many memories.

Sua shouted her choice so loudly that even you heard it crystal clear. The rest of them took a few seconds to agree, and then Jiu put the phone back to her ear.

“How about our favorite restaurant near the dorm? The one we would always go to at this time of year.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I can’t wait. See you soon.”

You finished your meal and showered before spending nearly a lifetime picking out what you wanted to wear. You didn’t have many fancy clothes to choose from, especially on such short notice, but you managed to put together a nice outfit that was still casual enough for a night out.

You wanted to do something special – to surprise the girls somehow – just as a way of thanking them for all they’d done. Seeing them would undoubtedly bring back a lot of feelings and memories, but you couldn’t say that you weren’t looking forward to it. You couldn’t remember the last time they’d been free enough to call you up and invite you out, or even when your own schedule had allowed you to be the one to initiate things. So, this once, you felt like indulging a little. Distancing could begin again later.

Spending some time with them would surely do you some good in the meantime, anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself.

With a glance at the clock, you discovered that you still had plenty of time to throw together a quick little surprise for them. The plan came together in your mind on the fly, and everything seemed completely doable.

You just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best as you left your apartment and locked the shop up. You really wanted this gesture to make them happy.

—

The Four Leaf Clover

Your shoes made soft crunching noises as they treaded over the sidewalk, even and rhythmic with your stride. For once, you didn’t mind the chill that washed over your body when the wind blew; it was refreshing. Your mind was too busy wondering what the night would hold to feel upset about anything, really, and you cherished that. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

The familiar corner shop – your destination – came into view a couple of minutes later, comfortably lit and cozy looking. An old man – one of its owners – sat outside of it on a wooden chair, completing a puzzle. He greeted you with a warm smile and seated bow, and you reciprocated before heading inside.

A small bell above the door announced your entrance.

“Welcome,” a feminine voice chimed, slightly worn with age.

“Hi, Mrs. Park,” you smiled, approaching the counter.

“My, my. It’s been too long, Y/N. How have you been?”

You took a breath.

“Fine; I can’t complain. And you?”

“Still kicking, sweetie. That’s all I can ask for.” She chuckled to herself.

You nodded, regarding her. She still looked the same as you remembered. The years hadn’t even given her another wrinkle yet.

“So,” she started, “What can I get for you?”

“I’d like a custom arrangement: just seven pretty flowers with a nice bow.”

She hummed at the simple request. “And what kind of flowers will you be needing?”

“Oh, I um…” Somehow you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m not sure, actually.”

“Don’t worry,” she mitigated. “I can pick them out for you. Who are they for? And what’s the occasion?”

Your shoulders relaxed a little, put at ease.

“For some friends,” you explained. “We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

As you pictured all seven of them, Jiu stood out in your mind, like usual. The owner eyed you, studying the unconscious smile on your lips.

“Friends, huh?” She teased.

You opened your mouth to respond, but she didn’t let you.

“I’ll have it ready in a jiffy. Hang tight, sweetheart.” She turned and pushed her way past the swinging doors that led to the back, shuffling off to put together your arrangement.

You took the next few minutes to leisurely stroll around the small shop and admire all the creations it had to offer. Handmade crafts, knick knacks, and fresh bouquets were displayed beautifully. Small hand written signs indicated their prices, hanging near them or leaning on their stands. The marker lines on them were a little shaky, showing that whoever wrote them had done so with a trembling hand.

The little details like that, seemingly so insignificant, showcased just how much effort the two of them put into the store.

They’d been running it ever since you could remember. Having grown up nearby and attended your training at the company, you were never very far from it. When you moved into the dorm with the girls, it only brought you closer. The place almost always stayed busy, being frequented by families and supporters alike at all times of the year.

Specials were given during exam season, because the Parks were aware of the stress that families were already under. They still wanted the students’ efforts to be celebrated.

Those in mourning were given discounts on funeral arrangements to lessen their burdens.

Holiday events were hosted towards the end of the year, giving people the chance to come in and learn to properly decorate their own arrangements. Refreshments were provided, and they never failed to bring out the festive joy that that time of year is known for. Classes were taught by Mrs. Park, with her husband handing out supplies and ensuring everyone was well taken care of.

Even when one of them was ill, the store stayed open. They made a promise to each other to keep their doors open for as long as possible, and they stayed true to that.

That kind of consistency is beyond rare.

You can only imagine how many days they saved by simply being open. Birthdays, funerals, anniversaries, parties, house warmings… you name it, they’ve saved it.

It made you smile to yourself in a grateful kind of way, as your fingertips traced along the side of an antique clock on the counter. This tiny store, so unassuming and quaint, housed so many memories for so many people.

What a beautiful thing it was.

—

“Seven orange alstroemerias,” Mrs. Park called, signaling that she was finished.

You padded your way back over to her and found her zhuzhing up a beautiful array of them. They were vibrant and open wide, flaunting their colors.

“They symbolize devotion and friendship,” she informed.

“They’re perfect. Thank you so much.”

Your fingertips skated over the silky material of the bow she had wrapped around them. It was prettier than you ever could’ve imagined.

She smiled deeply. “No problem, sweetheart.”

“How much do I owe you?” You inquired, reaching into your pocket for your cash.

“Twelve dollars.”

When you handed her the total amount, she took it into her small hands and pressed some buttons on the register to enter it in.

You peered down into the bouquet as you slid it closer to yourself, and a flash of red amongst the sea of orange caught your eye, nestled a little further down than all the others. Its petals were far different, too.

“Oh, ma’am,” you said, catching her attention before she could hand your change back. “You put an extra flower in here. A rose.”

“Oh, did I?” She tutted, but her response gave you the feeling that it wasn’t such an accident after all. “Go ahead and keep it, then. Free of charge,” she waved her hand into the air. “I’m sure you can find someone to give it to.”

She absolutely did that on purpose. The tell-tale smile on her lips as she handed you your change sold her out on the spot.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, honey. Have a good evening.”

You smiled just the same as her, finally on the same wavelength. “You, too.”

—-----

Show Champion

The flowers rested in the crook of your elbow as you sent a quick text on your phone, letting your friend know that you were outside the building. The wind blew rather harshly as you waited for a reply; it rippled over your long overcoat and nipped at your cheeks, stinging your skin.

Go-eun, the woman you were waiting on, had worked here ever since you were still a part of MINX. It was here that you first met her, all that time ago, and an easy-going friendship had blossomed almost immediately. Despite everything that had happened over the past few years, she had remained your friend and stayed in touch through it all. You were beyond glad to have her.

Before long, an outside door creaked open and her smiling face emerged. She had on a headset that connected her to the action that was happening inside.

Her hand raised to it and she pressed a button as she motioned you inside. You stepped through the threshold and shook the cold off.

“I owe you one.”

Her head swayed lightly and she waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you, Go-eun. Really.”

Her smile simply deepened in response, and she sent you a thumbs up for encouragement. You had explained your plan over the phone on your way to the performance hall, and she herself was excited to see it unfold.

“Go get ‘em.”

You parted ways and headed down the side hallway towards the waiting rooms for the artists. The layout was still somewhat familiar from your time as an idol, but they had clearly rearranged some things in your absence. Your hands gripped the flowers a little harder, ringing their stems unconsciously.

After some walking, you rounded one final corner and were greeted by a sight that made your breath hitch tightly in your throat.

Jiu’s laughter filled the hall as she exited a room, leading all the other girls out. They were joking about something that Sua had said, and they lightly jostled each other around. Gahyeon and Handong, the two new members, looked radiant in the dark outfits that their stylists had prepared. They fit into the group seamlessly, filling your shoes in some ways that you never could’ve.

From what you had seen of them during your occasional bouts of watching Dreamcatcher’s content, it was easy to see how much they shined. They deserved every good thing in the world; they worked hard to achieve their dreams, just the same as the rest of you. They were talented; you could see why they were chosen for a task as daunting as a rebranding.

No hard feelings existed between you, but your heart undeniably ached at the sight of them all together. Yet again, you were stuck on the outside looking in.

From idol to fan, just like that. The beheld to the admirer. It still got to you.

“Y/N?”

Yoohyeon was the first to notice you. Her voice was small and full of cautious hope. She didn’t want to blink and find out that she was imagining things.

“Hi, Yooh. Miss me?” You smiled sadly, tilting your head.

Her lip quivered in response. She always was the most emotional out of all of them.

Despite the loudness of the stage further away in the building, the hallway had fallen almost completely silent. It rang in your ears. The drop of a pen could be heard.

The rest of them turned in your direction at the sound of your voice. Jiu locked eyes with you; her brows knitted together pitifully, like she wanted to cry, too.

“What’re you doing here?” Incredulity shimmered in her tone.

The others perked up behind her, regarding you in quiet astonishment. They never expected you to be here.

Down the hall, near where Go-eun was peeking out at the crowd through a curtain, a security officer pressed the button of his walkie-talkie and spoke an order into it. He was keeping watch, making sure things ran smoothly.

You smiled to yourself and reached into the bouquet to retrieve the rose. Once it was freed, you outstretched it to Jiu. Her fingertips brushed against its petals as she glanced at the others. She realized then that hers was the only rose.

You were able to watch that fact dawn on her, filling her with hope.

Could this mean that you…

“I wanted to surprise you all and show my support,” you explained. “I hope you–”

It all happened in a flash.

“Stop right there!” A booming voice shouted suddenly. Quick-moving footsteps, heavy and dull as they resounded against the floor, accompanied it.

Just as Sua stepped forward to see what the commotion was, two men approached either side of you and roughly grabbed you by the arms.

None of you had thought that their warning was aimed at you.

The flowers all fell to the ground, getting stomped on by their careless feet.

“Hey!” Dami exclaimed in response.

You struggled against them, tugging on your arms in an attempt to be freed. Despite the attempts you made to explain who you were, they didn’t listen.

“We’re sorry, ladies.” They addressed the girls, “She must’ve managed to sneak her way back here from the crowd.”

Your heart sank. They thought you were just another fan.

Jiu stepped forward, extending a hand to you.

Siyeon spoke up, “But she’s–”

They smugly shook their heads, and one of them raised a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her out of your hair.”

Sua looked at them like they were insane. As they turned on their heels and harshly pulled you along, she marched behind them and grabbed the sleeve of one of their uniforms.

“Yah, saekki, she’s not just a fan!” She shouted.

They turned around, looking embarrassed and caught off guard by her use of language. “What?”

“She’s our friend. Now let her go.”

If looks could kill, those two men would’ve dropped dead on the spot. They released you in an instant and apologized, quickly bowing multiple times to everyone to show their so-called respect. They rushed away, returning to their posts immediately after.

In their wake, the hallway returned to silence. Blaring, awful silence.

Although the encounter was over fairly quickly and was now resolved, the damage had been done.

Yoohyeon approached you and tried to fix your mussed clothes, but you caught her hands before she could. You held them in your own, looking past her at the mangled bouquet on the ground, completely ruined. Aside from being pissed off, the girls all looked distressed and sad. Gahyeon and Handong averted their gazes, feeling ashamed. Jiu was almost teary eyed; Sua was shaking her head in anger; Siyeon went quiet; and Dami had her jaw set with a look of contempt on her face. Staggered curses fell from their lips.

In a matter of just a couple minutes, their happiness had soured and turned into this. What could’ve been a wonderful moment was now marred by your presence and the chaos that you brought along.

You never should have come here.

“I-I’m sorry, everyone.”

You dropped Yoohyeon’s hands and turned around, briskly striding towards the side door that you had entered. Tears of embarrassment stung your eyes, and you quickly swiped them away.

Go-eun looked concerned as you approached, but you just shook your head at her and left with a promise of explaining later. The wind was somehow even colder than before as you rushed out the door, and once it mixed with your salty tears you finally let yourself go.

Fresh ones fell freely, replacing the others that threatened to dry from the wind. You sat down outside of the building and pressed your back against the frigid surface of the wall. Your forehead came to rest on your knees as you cried, feeling stupid.

Why had you ever expected that to work out? You were such an idiot.

Gahyeon reached down and picked up the bouquet, frowning. Sua and Siyeon had left directly after you to reprimand the security officers, and Dami was comforting a teary Yoohyeon. Jiu still held her rose in her hands, turning it over and over.

She glanced back at the girls and nodded before heading after you. In the small gap that existed between her belt and the outside of her pants, she slid the stem of her rose. With it secured in place, she quickly treaded down the hallway.

When she slipped out the side door and saw you curled up, her heart broke. You raised your head at the sound of the heavy metal latching back into place behind her, and inadvertently met her gaze.

You stood up and wiped the rest of your tears before walking in the opposite direction. You didn’t even give her a chance to speak.

Although she was taken aback, she didn’t stall in going after you. Not anymore.

“Go back inside, Jiu.”

“No.”

You walked further down the sidewalk, tucking your hands into your pockets. “If you stick around me, I’ll just end up causing more problems.”

“Don’t say that, Y/N!” She scolded, sounding even more upset than she was inside. She had no reason to be, since you were just removing yourself from the situation. She wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore this way.

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true, and we both know it!” You returned, exasperated. “You don’t have to pretend otherwise for my sake.”

“I’m not pretending,” she pressed, following after you. Her outfit wasn’t suitable for the weather, but the emotions coursing through her numbed her to the chill. This exchange hurt her more than the wind ever could, anyway. Why did you insist so hard on leaving?

“Just stop,” you said over your shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “Maybe another day,” you said, in reference to your plans.

You were far too upset to enjoy the night after all that, and awkwardly pretending that it didn’t happen would be just as painful.

“No!” She erupted, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. Your jaw went a little slack at the suddenness of it; this was a totally new side of her.

“I’m sick of waiting, Y/N. That’s all I’ve ever done when it comes to you, and I’m not doing it anymore.”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Her features were strikingly beautiful – so sharp. Their jaded edges displayed everything she was feeling, despite your inability to read them. You were still just as oblivious as ever.

She snuck a hurried glance around the both of you before pulling you over to the side of the building. She pushed you against it directly after, catching you off guard. Her arms wound around your middle as she moved to hold you close.

You had half the inclination to ask what she was doing, but the feeling of her mouth on yours interrupted those thoughts before they could even finish forming.

Her lips kissed a reply against yours, saying all the words she never could before.

I love you, they pressed, urgent and hard enough to bruise.

I always have, they whispered without words, soft in their reassurance.

A million confessions flowed from them to yours, spreading like the strawberry gloss that painted them so beautifully. She couldn’t possibly have cared less about the messy state you were putting her in; she lived for the way you came alive in her arms, kissing her back with just as much passion as she felt herself. It was a confirmation that the feelings she had were mutual in the best type of way.

A muffled sigh left you as you brought your arms up to wrap around her neck and draw her in closer. She pressed the length of her body against yours, molding to you like never before. Her hands gripped your hips possessively, begging you to stay for once in your life and see this through. She was afraid to let go again.

Her teeth captured your bottom lip as you tilted your head to the side, granting her more access. She took the opportunity to deepen the kiss without a second thought, releasing her inhibitions. She lost herself in your taste – in the feel of you. It was everything that she’d hoped for and more after spending so many years waiting.

You were like Heaven to touch.

The perfume on your neck drew her under as her lips trailed over your sensitive skin there, leaving a mark in their wake.

She smiled when your hand fisted in her hair, returning the desperation that she felt. Her head was in the clouds.

“Please don’t ever run away like that again,” she whispered against your jawline, allowing her lips to brush it in the process. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” She left small kisses behind as little reminders of her love for you.

“Just because things went sideways in there doesn’t mean we don’t want you around. We’ve all missed you so much, Y/N/N… you have no idea.”

“I’m sorry.”

She pulled away enough to touch her nose to yours, moving it side to side. When you laughed at the feeling, she smiled.

“The girls and I need you more than you know. They love you, and I…” she paused, swallowing nervously, “I love you. I have for a long time now.”

You stole another quick kiss from her lips, rewarding her for her confession. “Me too.”

Her thumbs rubbed comforting patterns against your hips. “Then will you stay? Please?”

You took a deep breath of the evening air to bring you back to your senses. You were still reeling, if you were honest, and thinking straight wasn’t something you felt very capable of with the woman of your dreams holding you in her arms like she was. Her kiss-swollen lips pouted, only further corrupting you.

“I’ll stay,” you nodded. “And we can still go to the restaurant.”

She pulled away and did a little victory dance that had you smiling in an instant. Her face brightened, donning a beautiful smile as she cheered. She was such a dork that you almost couldn’t stand it.

If any paparazzi were lurking nearby, her questionable choice of celebratory dance moves would’ve undoubtedly been a larger scandal then the kisses you shared.

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted after a few seconds, stepping forward and grabbing her wrist to stop her. “We get the idea.”

“I’m just so happy,” she cooed, gazing into your eyes with so much love you nearly swooned at the mere sight of it.

“So are we,” Sua said from nearby all of a sudden.

“AHHH!” Both you and Jiu let out a scream of terror at the same time.

“How long have you been standing there?!” Jiu barked, recovering with a hand over her heart.

Sua pursed her lips, thinking for a second. “Just long enough to see your dance.”

“Very interpretive,” Siyeon narrowed her eyes and nodded, giving a thumbs up. She slung her arm around Sua’s shoulder as she came to stand beside her.

Yoohyeon and Dami appeared behind them a few seconds later, attempting to suppress their laughter. “You guys didn’t hear the door latch? It’s like a hundred years old.” Yoohyeon giggled.

You cleared your throat, blushing more than you would’ve liked to. “I guess we were a little preoccupied.”

“Yeah, about to fuc–” Gahyeon began.

“Language!” The unnies all shouted in unison, interrupting the youngest member. She rolled her eyes, but an amused smile rested on her lips regardless as she neared the group as well. It grew wider when she looked at you, causing her eyes to form into little crescents.

Handong was the last to show herself, but it was for a good reason.

The bouquet was cradled in her hands, still wrapped in the paper and bow that it came with. Tape was wound around every broken piece of the flowers’ stems, making them semi-straight again. All of the girls had done their best to repair the damage that the guards had done, and that simple gesture alone made you want to cry all over again. The sentiment was unexpected but beyond welcome.

“We’re really excited to spend the evening with you, Y/N,” Handong spoke, soft and smooth. “The girls talk about you all the time.”

You glanced around at all of them, finally feeling content in a way you hadn’t since you left the dorm all that time ago. So much love and adoration shined in their eyes for you, clear as day. For you, they’d do just about anything.

And while things wouldn’t ever be quite the same as they were before, you knew then that the girls would forge a new future with you in it, however they needed to. They never wanted to lose you again, and something about this time felt different. Deep down in your heart, you knew it would last.

As their arms all wrapped around you in the group hug that Sua initiated, you let your eyes fall shut.

“I’m excited, too,” you said, smiling to yourself.

And for the first time in a long time, you really meant it.

180 notes · View notes

wavesoutbeingtossed · 10 months

Text

Thinking about “evermore,” as you do, and something struck me about it this afternoon.

One of the things I love about the song is its imagery. It’s a song about the depths of grief and sadness (and depression), but instead of saying it explicitly, it’s all about conveying it with the mood. E.g. “Gray November, I’ve been down since July” = been in the pits of it for months, “Motion caption put me in a bad light” = freeze framing a bad time in your mind (or in the minds of others), “I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong” = mulling over your actions over and over again trying to figure out if it’s something you did that has led you here, what you could have done differently to prevent this from happening, etc. “Writing letters addressed to the fire” = thinking of the million different ways you could have said something (or done something) but never being able to do anything about it, basically screaming into the void. And so on.

You’ve got all the imagery of being stranded alone in the winter cold, waves crashing, etc. Which on the surface lends itself to the “Victorian cabin” mood of the folklore/evermore era that Taylor talks about in her speeches every night at her concerts, but obviously stands in for feeling lonely and alone and unbalanced, and fighting your way back to yourself after going through the depths of despair.

One of the curious parts I’ve been thinking of is that the verses and the chorus are very self-centered — not in a narcissistic way, but in the sense that it’s very much about the narrator’s feelings of loss and isolation. Then the bridge hits and in the cracks of light “I thought of you,” dreamed of you, etc. Because “you were there,” and thats’s when the story flips from insurmountable pain to the first rays of hope by the end of the song.

But the one part that really struck me today was, “And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step,” specifically because she’s talked so much about the fantasy cabin on tour. When I used to listen to the song, I loved the imagery (and sound) of that line, because she’s finally on solid ground after being tossed and turned in the water, but in light of how she’s talked about where her imagination took her in 2020, it also strikes me (intentional or not) as a metaphor for that whole uneasy period of the pandemic lockdowns. Taylor has talked about how the fantasy cabin sparked her imagination and set off this creative streak that hasn’t really stopped since. I almost wonder if “floors of a cabin creaking under my step” leading into “And I couldn’t be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be for evermore,” can also be seen as, using this creative outlet (her music/the cabin) to process these feelings, and particularly in that point in time, to ground her and bring her back to herself. The creaking floors being the reminder that she will be whole once again, the metaphorical creaking in her mind being the spark of ideas leading to her most introspective work. “It was real enough to get me through,” like getting lost in these fantasies was enough to get through the worst patch, and in the end, it’s what ended up bringing her back to life (metaphorically of course).

I don’t necessarily think that was what the song set out to be, but given the narrative around the cabin in her mind etc., I just think it’s a neat coincidence at the very least that when she was feeling unmoored and “on waves out being tossed,” the metaphorical floors under her reminded her (and by her, I mean whoever the narrator was or will be) that the ground will be steady again under her, because it always will be when she goes back to doing what she loves.

Anyway. I love this song, why do you ask?

#Taylor swift #me thinking too hard about taylor lyrics #evermore #can you tell I kicked ass in English lol #look I know the song is (probably) about joe #but despite being a fan of the music for years I am a new online fine #*fan #and I’m not used to specifically assigning each song to a person #I just listen to the music lol #ANYWAY #whoever the song was initially about she’s clearly reassigning it #and probably towards her music/fans #so anyway

19 notes · View notes

alonelierperson · 2 years

Text

It’s really sad to see all the discourse in this fandom. I’m new to the marauders fandom and more specifically the jegulus fandom, but I’ve been in fandom spaces for years, and sadly this isn’t a new thing to see. However, I’m in full support of the strike. Writing fanfiction is a hobby, and for some it’s a support thing, a way to express and process things, and people leaving hate comments or pressuring them is appalling to see. Authors do not owe you a goddamn thing. They do not owe an update when you snap your fingers and demand it. They do not owe you a change in their fanfic just because you don’t like an aspect of a character or a plot point. It is their fanfic to write, to decide how it goes.

Something I remember seeing was some people hating the MCD in Art Heist, Baby! but it was tagged properly, you knew what you were getting into when reading it. The author decided that was how they wanted their story to go and so that’s how it was going to go, so why send hate about it? You don’t like something? Keep your mouth shut and exit the tab, don’t comment your opinion about it.

Now, I was going to start posting my first ever jegulus fic “We are Constellations” in November as it is my birth month so it is a little gift to myself but I’m supporting the strike and I’ll have to delay it to December.

I am so sorry to all the authors who have received hate or other kinds of comments from people. Keep writing your stories how you want to write them!!

#jegulus #no post november #no jegulus november #jegulus strike #jegulus author strike

144 notes · View notes

mylevisdontfitanymore · 1 year

Note

Whenever the mood strikes you, I’d love to hear your thoughts on Bucky doing HOLIDAY STUFFING. I’m talking:

Eating whole pumpkin pie, slice by slice and covered in wayyyy too much whipped cream.

Indulging on a Thanksgiving feast, and then indulging yet again the next day on the leftovers

Scarfing down all the cookies meant for Santa, because he’s just that greedy

(Or, if you prefer to write Bucky as Jewish, latkes drowned in sour cream that makes his stomach gurgly and covers his face in greasy frying oil, ALSO LOTS OF CHOCOLATE GELT)

Getting sloshy, full, and burpy with alcohol on New Years

I prefer sambucky, but please go off from any of these in any direction or ship, it’d make me soooo happy

🤤

Thanksgiving is quickly approaching and that is making this feel particularly appropriate!

So, a Thanksgiving themed fic is it...

I mean, as much fun as a Christmas or Hanukkah stuffing would be, Thanksgiving is the Peak Feederism holiday (even if we fucking hate the roots of it because, yeah, we hate the slaughter and continued erasure/silencing of indigenous peoples. Acknowledging the suffering and continuing to learn and support those people is important! Especially as we celebrate) soooo-

Here we go!

Unbeta'd SamBucky belly kink. Warnings for belly kink obviously, stuffing, dirty talk, etc.

I feel like Sam and Bucky would go all out during this season!

Sam specifically strikes me as somebody who'd revel in hosting - providing food and games and housing and entertainment - especially if there are children around. Uncle Sam is literally the best. He loves kids and is very cute with them (as much as Bucky doesn't want to admit, the grump).

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn't love the holidays. Get-togethers can be stressful and loud and sometimes even scary. He's the most social he's been since deprogramming, but it can still be a struggle. He gets through it with rich flavors, though. It's super hard to complain when you're shoveling food into your mouth haha. And it's especially hard to complain when it's Sam's cooking-

His man's cooking is Good.

(Also, Sam would make jokes all November that why stuff a turkey when he can stuff Bucky? And in return, Bucky would 100% joke that Sam should be afraid considering that birds are the main course around this time of year and he should be especially afraid considering that he has a partner that's been known to get hangry so if he's not careful, he might actually end up as the main part of the meal...)

But, anyway-

When this year they decide it'll just be Sam and Bucky with no family, no trip down to Louisiana... that's when things really start to get interesting.

Kinky interesting.

Shit, Bucky is already packing on the pounds during fall as it turns into winter, bulking up for the cold weather, so shouldn't Sam make it worse by making him taste every dish as Sam "prepares" by "testing" some of the recipes they'll have for their TWO Thanksgiving dinners this year? One that's all to themselves. Private 😏 And a second one that's for them and their friends. Well, just Nat, Steve, and Clint because they've not got anywhere else to go. So they'll be coming to hang out for dinner and dessert.

About Sam "testing" new recipes though-

Literally the DAY after Halloween (meaning the day after Bucky nearly ate himself sick with candy, sitting on their couch in a too-well-filled-out bright orange sweater with a jack-o-lantern face on the tummy (it was a "maternity sweater" that Sam got way too much of a kick out of purchasing for him)), Sam started making festive foods and feeding them to Bucky. Physically feeding him or just encouraging him verbally. Feeding him all different types of pie, multiple iterations of stuffing, turkey, duck, rich casseroles, handmade dinner rolls, several types of cookies then brownies, potatoes prepared seemingly a million different ways, etc.

It's so much food every day.

It's so much food every day that Bucky goes to bed every night packed tight. Full like a beach ball given one, two, three, or four too many pumps of air. Straining. Sam jokes they need to start taking photos like he's pregnant, that way Bucky can see how much progress he's making (and so they can see those pretty stretch marks grow and redden and move 🫠)... Bucky grumbles about it. Complaining that he'd have to stand up to do that. And he can't. Can't do anything but complain. At least Sam's hands are as talented at giving belly rubs as they are at cooking. So, okay, fine, Bucky can put up with him 🙄😉

All of that is to say, Bucky's really putting on winter weight by the time they actually make it to Thanksgiving week. (That's right Thanksgiving WEEK. Sam goes in Hard.) Bucky'll never need a second jacket during winter at this rate! He's very well insulated with blubber and always sweating because of the warm, heavy food shoved into that big tank attached to his front.

It's a good thing that it's Thanksgiving week anyway because Bucky swears with all this consistent stuffing his stomach has been stretched out. Stretched so he needs more food than he did before, which is saying something. His normal level of overwhelming calories just isn't enough these days; he needs Sam cooking too. He needs to be constantly on the edge of crashing into an epic food coma. He needs stuffing. He needs indulgence. He needs pure gluttony.

He needs so much food that even though the whole week leading up to the actual Thursday of Thanksgiving he's stuffed for every meal, every day, and spoiled with snacks and dessert too, on Thursday he wakes up with his stomach still full from the night before yet, he's hungry.

Or, fuck, not even hungry-

He's starved. So much so that he has to have his first dinner (with multiple servings of everything) before their guests even arrive. Because, yeah, of course, Thanksgiving is about glutting yourself but Bucky and Sam's friends aren't ready to see just how much Bucky can fit in his swollen tank...

So, for now, they placate Bucky beforehand including his pre-dinner dinner but also... earlier in the day, Bucky, on Thanksgiving, has a massive breakfast. Then, he has a mid-morning "snack" (re: a decent meal for anyone who's not a massive glutton). And he has this lavish, complete lunch like normal. Also like normal, Bucky sneaks tastes of everything Sam is making for dinner. Plus, he grabs snacks from the pantry when he tires of playfully being smacked on the hand because Sam's trying to shoo him away. And then - THEN - Bucky has his first dinner. He has seconds of his first dinner. Next, in a few hours when their friends have been ushered in, hugged, chit-chat has been engaged in, and the table has been set...

Bucky has Thanksgiving dinner with their friends.

And, of course, Thanksgiving dinner with their friends includes dessert.

By dessert, Bucky is beginning to lose the fight against stifling moans and burps, and panting breaths. He's too full to hide how full he is. He can't breathe. He feels like he's beginning to pour sweat. There is so much heavy, rich food inside him it's like his stomach is packed completely full, so now, the food has just begun to pile up in his esophagus, running out of room.

But...

Sam doesn't think he's done yet.

When all their friends leave, slipping out of their door to go and crash at their own places...

Sam slowly, slowly guides Bucky over to the couch, barely able to contain his glee at how Bucky waddles, hands supporting his heavy, heavy belly. And Sam bites the inside of his cheek to not smile as he "innocently" asks where Bucky got a yoga ball and when he had time to stuff it up under his shirt. Bucky whines in response to the joke. He feels like a yoga ball.

Plopping heavily down onto the couch, shit, it feels like his belly rounds out all the way to his knees. He's huge.

He's so fucking full.

And Sam just pushes himself against Bucky's bloated, blubbery side, murmuring hotly, "so, you ready to take care of all the leftovers for me, Bucky?"

Bucky makes a high, whimpery sound. He burps.

"Making room?" Sam chuckles, "c'mon, babycakes, I can't stand the way food tastes once it's been refrigerated and warmed back up, you know that."

Bucky whines again, rubbing the parts of his stomach that he can still reach. His arms look short in comparison to that massive fucking tummy. The apex of his belly he hasn't been able to touch by himself, not when he's stuffed, in months.

"So you're gonna have to eat it all, okay?" Sam says, grabbing Bucky's soft, puffy jaw and kissing his pretty pouty lips demandingly. "You're gonna eat everything that got left behind, you're gonna let that food join all its friends in this belly right here-" Sam pats his belly; he tries to press his fingers into the bloated top of his gut but, despite his normal thick layer of insulation... Sam's fingers don't sink in. He's taut. A completely blown-up balloon... like one of the fucking Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade floats.

Bucky moans, his head completely thrown back. Eyes shut. Wet lips wide open. Flushed prettily. Suspended in the eroticism.

"-And then tomorrow we're gonna do it all over again. I'm gonna work myself to the bone makin' a whole new feast for you and you're gonna eat all of it and enjoy it. You're gonna eat your heart out, glutton."

Bucky moans breathily, all but classically trained to feel a rush of arousal whenever eating or food is mentioned.

"When you do this again tomorrow I'll get you all to myself, that'll be the best part. I'll get to rub your gut as it fills up. I'll get to sit in what's left of your lap. I'll get to feed you every fucking bite if I want. It'll just be me and you and your huge gut. Bloated from a whole month of indulgence. Still full from a feast fit for a King just the night before... I wonder how big you'll be tomorrow night, this same time? Can you imagine yourself bigger? Huh, sweet cheeks? Can you?"

Bucky shakes his head drunkenly.

"Well, get ready, baby. You're gonna be bigger. I'm gonna make you bigger. Fatter."

Hope you enjoyed!

#ask #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #bucky barnes #chubby bucky #fat bucky #sam wilson #sambucky #mylevisdontfitanymore #writerkenna

48 notes · View notes

bobwess · 5 months

Note

For the AMA (apologies in advance i've got fic-writing on the brain cuz of nano)

How do you deal with writer's block when it strike? Or is your go-to to drop AMA? :P What's your preferred fic writing time, if you even have one?

Do you tend to write mainly digitally? Do you keep a writer's notebook?

Have you ever had a fic idea just pop into your head so jarringly you just start immediately writing from scratch? Or are you the sort who needs everything meticulously outlined out?

Is NaNo something you've ever tried, or is it not your thing?

You a person who listens to music while writing? If so, what sorts of thing?

Do you find that you tend to write in short bursts and then leave it for a while, or do you make consistant slow and steady progress? Or does it really depend on the fic?

Have you ever reread something you've written and had zero recollection of writing it?

You might have been asked this before, but do you have a favorite thing you've written? (Doesn't have to be just kept to fics either)

And one last silly one for the road...You get stuck in one of your fics. Which one would you rather it be, and what would happen?

How do you deal with writer's block when it strike? Or is your go-to to drop AMA? :P What's your preferred fic writing time, if you even have one?

I usually write lateish. On a normal day I'm going to bed around 8am, I'm usually starting writing at like 2/3.

Do you tend to write mainly digitally? Do you keep a writer's notebook?

I write exclusively digitally. I type very fast, pretty much the same speed I think so I can keep up unlike if I'm writing physically. I can also change things on the fly without struggle.

I keep a physical notebook with me most of the time but its specifically for prop building, makeup designs, and work related planning.

Have you ever had a fic idea just pop into your head so jarringly you just start immediately writing from scratch? Or are you the sort who needs everything meticulously outlined out?

Absolutely have gone in from scratch.

It's weird though. 50% of the time it's seat-of-my-pants moment-by-moment with maybe a couple notes for the future (Only Human, A Sudden Affinity) and sometimes I have a fic meticulously planned out (Wait for the Ricochet, My Endverse fic).

Almost all of my one-shots are ideas that popped into my head and refused to not be written.

The Endverse fic actually, while fully planned now, at first was just one chapter I really wanted/needed to write and I sat down and wrote it out. Then built the fic around it. It became chapter 3. It's the weirdest one I've ever written because I have every chapter made individually in documents, and each one is outlined. So I'm just popcorning and doing a scene here and a scene there.

Is NaNo something you've ever tried, or is it not your thing?

I should do. I have two novels I am working on slow as shit and it'd be a good job to have a kick in the pants to get them done. A couple times before I've thought about it. November is just always busy as hell and I can't self-enforce a substitute month.

You a person who listens to music while writing? If so, what sorts of thing?

I listen to music 90% of the time. Honestly it depends. I have two playlists. One is much more aggressive, rock/metal/etc. Otherwise I'll go for concerts or other instrumental music. If there was a spotify wrapped type listing for my computer, Ray Chen performing Sibelius' Violin Concerto would be towards the top of the list.

The other 10% of the time I'll just listen to like sounds. Rain or rivers or something like that.

Do you find that you tend to write in short bursts and then leave it for a while, or do you make consistent slow and steady progress? Or does it really depend on the fic?

Absolutely depends. But probably bursts more often. A specific fic will just grab me. Unfortunately for everyone waiting on my chapters my bursts of inspiration recently have been my thus unpublished Endverse fic. Which means a lot of writing has been done that isn't ready to see the light of day.

Have you ever reread something you've written and had zero recollection of writing it?

No. I am very aware of what I've written, and I re-read a lot. I do sometimes REGRET things I've written, though it's rare. I only have a few pieces of mine I don't like.

On the contrary, my VIDEOS? Holy shit, I don't have a clue what's in them. They leave my brain the second I am done editing them, and I never ever re-watch them. "I love your Destiel series." "Thanks, I do not remember it."

You might have been asked this before, but do you have a favorite thing you've written? (Doesn't have to be just kept to fics either)

Until very recently it's been "Only Human" because it's been such a labor of love, and I have a few idea notes for running it all the way into "season" 13. But honestly "Wait for the Ricochet" has overtaken it. I don't know, I just think it's neat.

And one last silly one for the road...You get stuck in one of your fics. Which one would you rather it be, and what would happen?

Oh man. See the FUN answer is My Endverse fic, because honestly it has a lot of meat on it and I would love to fit into Chitaqua. I'm really enjoying what I've written so far. (Like I said, stuck in the brain, can't stop talking about it.)

But the real answer is Hell Above, because I can be a passenger on the airplane and theoretically not-die which is not a given in my other fics.

3 notes · View notes

onthemerits · 2 years

Text

okay im getting a little overwhelmed by the jegulus discourse (tm) surrounding the strike but i need to rant abt something tangential (and that seems to be going unsaid) so here goes:

there needs to be a more productive conversation about how adults and minors can interact respectfully and safely in shared spaces, particularly with regards to different forms of queer generational trauma and internalized biases (read: transphobia).

this is really long so the full essay is below the cut, but

TLDR: if you're sending trans people messages telling them that writing about sexuality wrt their own identities and lived experience is "perverse", "weird", "gross", "predatory", or "pedophilic", pls check yourself and think about why you feel uncomfy before proceeding

(also if you feel the need to harass/send hate to people on behalf of unnamed "others" or for "safety reasons", odds are you're the problem)

CW: discussions of transphobia (specifically kink/ hyper-sexualization and accusations of predatory behavior) teen pregnancy, grooming, age-gap relationships,

first, i want to state the obvious and say that adults and minors are in very different stages of life. as much as this may offend some underage people, adults have more lived experience and have had more time to process their internalized biases and phobias. they have had both the freedom and responsibility of adulthood. and this brings new revelations and understandings.

this does not necessarily mean that adults are necessarily phobia or bias-free point blank, but it does mean that there are a lot of things that would understandably make minors uncomfortable (even as woke as they are) simply because they have not had exposure to those things. and on the flipside, minors should not be blamed or bullied by adults for their discomfort.

with all this in mind, it is the responsibility of adults to create adult-only spaces and for minors be mindful of what they could be exposing themselves to when they enter those spaces. a lot of the discussion around "no post november" seems to pit tumblr (old hp fans) against twitter and tiktok (newer, younger hp fans).

i've seen a bunch of arguments that "minors dni" and "tags" don't take away from the fact that "offensive" content exists, specifically in the case of underage relationships and sex (often with content that is deemed pedophilic).

i empathize with this immensely, and i understand why the idea of an adult sexualizing you would feel uncomfortable. but i think it's important to note that thats not what's really happening.

if someone is writing a sexual relationship between two minors that isn't flagged with the hallmarks/abuse of age-gap relationships, then there isn't any real danger to minors reading it. if there is no grooming going on, if there is no glorification of age gaps, if there isn't an infantilization of one of the characters, then there's no real predatory behavior that would have a marked impact on a minor.

even if there there was a depiction of an age gap and an artistic depiction of predatory behavior, if the story is marked as for adults then writing and posting the story is not predatory behavior and it doesnt make the author a pedophile. for all you know, they could be processing trauma that they underwent as a teenager and is now creating art for other adults to share their experiences.

it is not fair to compare this to the fetishization of lesbians or gay men (which does exist in this fandom) because unlike straight cis women readying gay smut, we have all been minors at one point, and that experiences comes with a lot of trauma, especially for queer individuals who grew up before queer rights gained popular traction.

on the love of all that is holy and unholy, i beg of you to think before you call something disgusting, especially if it is created in a space that is not meant for you.

in this case, i am thinking very explicitly about discussions of trans sexuality in the fandom. anyone who has been on ao3 can see that smut, explicit adult content, and mild sexual content are a big part of the online space across all ships. Dramione and Drarry have some of the filthiest (non-derogatory) content I have seen in my entire life. much of it is written by people who have been actively involved in the harry potter community since the early 2000s, and are therefore older than 20, and a good chunk of it is written about 17-year olds.

however, as soon as things like pregnancy, trans sexuality, or any combination of the two are brought up, it's "fetishization" no matter what the context. im not here to defend or attack the mpreg tag (especially in other explicitly kink-related contexts), but trans sexuality and explicit content that is trans focused (specifically ftm) is not inherently kinky or fetishization. there are so many things that are fetishized by the world (trans people tend to be in that bucket) but that does not mean writing those things is inherently fetish-related. in fact, calling it "fetishization" reinforces that idea that trans people cannot exist sexually without being reduced to a kink.

this is further perpetuated by the fact that cis (and occasionally straight, re jily and pregnancy) underage sexual content is only ever given a slap on the wrist. (and also this is extremely fucked up when u think abt how some fics reduce women in the fandom to plot points-- thinking of "lily is only relevant to birth harry" fics)

in fact, the double standard is so enormous re all the girlies that want self-insert fics with their gay favs. the straight-up obsession with cis mlm ships that straight women in this fandom seem to have is something that largely goes unspoken about. but we don't cancel people for writing self-insert fics or check to make sure female authors are queer before they write mlm sex scenes.

(there are a few cases where trans regulus seems to be flagged as a self insert for cis women which is transphobic and fetishization in and of itself, but i promise you that the likelihood of this being written by a trans person is 0.00001%)

this is all to say that attacking trans authors for writing about trans sexuality and trans versions of experiences that are "cishet" is transphobic. but how does this come back to minors?

well, there is a long history of queer individuals (trans people specifically) being called pedophiles or predators for expressing their lived experiences and discussing sexuality that deviates from the norm. while most people in the marauders fandom are comfortable and content with cis queer "sexual deviancy," there seems to be more contention around trans queer "sexual deviancy." it can be seen as inherently "problematic" or "predatory," even when it is just trans people writing about their own lived experiences.

obviously not all trans people are perfect, not all queer people are perfect, and predatory behavior exists from people of all genders and sexualities blah blah blah disclaimer disclaimer.

and in all seriousness if someone feels genuinely unsafe and specifically targeted in online spaces, please speak out. this is an attempt to alleviate harassment, not silence people who are being groomed by strangers online.

but it feels like everyone is so quick to call out "problematic" in an attempt to distance themselves from JKR that you're just coming back around to doing her work for her

(this is very terfy, "anti-trans for safety reasons" behavior)

(also this is just me feeling attacked but if you come at queer adult marauders fans for being "harry potter adults" (derogatory) when you're in the same fandom, pls stop)

*if you disagree with this and what i'm saying, feel free to send me a respectful, preferably non-anon message*

#if it doesnt apply swipe on by #jegulus #discourse #ahhhh #this is scary #but i needed to rant #yes this was kind of about ollie #trans #queer #i am 21 #so i am a baby adult #but ive also been a hp fan for most of my life #and have only recently gotten back into fanfic #this is just my two cents #fuckboyregulus #no post november #this is one of those kind of posts

17 notes · View notes

orphee-aux-enfers · 2 years

Note

Are you participating in the writers' strike?

So, this has a short answer and a long answer.

The short answer is that for the month of November, and likely starting now, I will be on a planned hiatus for my mental health.

I will not be updating my WIPs during November. I will be writing during November, but largely on a new project for NaNoWriMo that may or may not be finished and/or started posting after November.

I am not, however, willing to label this a strike. The explanation for that will be under the cut.

First of all, I was planning to be on hiatus during November before I found out about the strike. I was planning to write a post about it today to pin, but I guess this is that post. I am extremely burnt out and I need to step back from posting for a while because of it.

My number one struggle as I’ve been in this fandom has been the language of productivity being associated with the hobby that I specifically picked up to combat alienation (in a Marxist sense). My fanfics are the thing that I create that I see through from start to (hopefully) finish, that gives me back a sense of my own humanity.

In the last two months especially I’ve had a massive influx of readers/subscribers/commenters/interaction here on tumblr, and my mental health has suffered a lot as I both did not expect it and because the language I at time face, especially in anonymous asks on tumblr that I just delete, which implies people are entitled not just to updates but to have a say in my fanfics. I welcome enthusiasm but unless we are actually friends, I probably do not want to hear what I SHOULD or even NEED to do with my fanfics. I was unprepared for this shift in my readers, as I’d previously had a solid and consistent reader base who were hugely and kindly supportive, but that was nothing like it has become, and I was not at all prepared for the change and I still am figuring out how to handle it.

I am also a genuine union member irl. As in, I go to meetings and pay dues and my job is protected and impacted by that union and when my actual union votes to go on strike I too go on strike. This means that strikes mean something very different to me. It is a tool of collective bargaining by a united, organized group of workers who majority agreed to go on strike, and it is done in negotiation with a smaller managerial group with power over them. On of the main fandom issues at hand here is readers acting like they should be managing fanfic production. I do not feel comfortable reinforcing that by saying I’m a worker/producer going on strike for better working conditions. Fanfic writers also are not wage earning workers, and I personally do not WANT to be—I need it to be a hobby. So, for me, applying the language of a strike which implies several things that are not true just does not work. I just cannot personally do it for myself, especially because I am working so hard to disassociate my fanfics from the language of productivity.

I fully support others calling this a strike if it is what is meaningful for them. I wholeheartedly support people participating in No Post November. I also wholeheartedly support people not participating in this if it does not fit their best interests.

I did not want to get involved in drama. I’ve deleted a lot of asks specifically because I have zero interest in participating in drama. I’m here to write for fun. I am not a worker, and I am not on strike. I’m a human being who is ultimately pretty fragile, and who has a lot to deal with, and I love to discuss my fics in a lighthearted manner, and I love to hear when people are enjoying it. I was avoiding discussing anything heavier because I am outright anxious about backlash when the people who are supportive can at times be overwhelming.

However, I think it’s probably appropriate I make some things extremely clear. I am a huge supporter of “Don’t Like, Don’t Read”, I’m anti-Censorship, and I’m pro “so-called problematic topics in fiction should have space to exist in the world”. I am, by both trade and training, literally involved in actual archives and other information spaces. Information professionals are ALL ABOUT freedom of information/free speech/preserving problematic speech. I wholeheartedly believe that problematic (but appropriately tagged) content should exist in Archive of Our Own especially, because freedom of information and freedom from censorship are literally core tenets of my profession. Yesterday, in a class on learning to be information professionals, one of my students came up with this maxim, which I think we all could learn something from: “You know people are starting to become a Problem when they start trying to ban books or ideas!”

At the extreme, I might not write Dead Dove content, but I fully support the fact that other people do, so long as it is appropriately tagged when posted to (in case of where I interact with fic) ao3. I am actually old enough to remember how important ao3’s creation was in the world of Fanfiction. I stand by and in fact celebrate that it inevitably contains work with “problematic” themes.

I do not, however, support anyone attacking anyone else in any scenario, from any side of any drama. Fandom drama is not new, and it will not go away, but it is exhausting when it’s not that hard to just click-off if you disagree with something. Learning to curate your spaces instead of attacking people is a key piece to existing on the internet (except, perhaps, on Twitter, which I’m told is fueled by fighting).

I have hope that everyone can work through this and that maybe we can all learn to treat each other with just a little more kindness, and remember that fanfic is a hobby done on top of other things, and that no one here is making money off of it—we literally cannot. It is the only hobby I have that people cannot tell me to try and monetize. So. I personally need to also have it kept away from language of labor/productivity, too.

Okay. I think that’s my spiel for now. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I hold no ill will towards anyone, and in fact, would outright say I adore my readers. I hope that after this, maybe more writers will also have that feeling.

(and also that maybe I will no longer feel quite so burnt out and like the only person I actually want reading my fics is my Beta Reader, because that’s where I am now).

#fic tag #jegulus #no post november #fandom problems tag

9 notes · View notes

hbelcherarts246-01 · 2 months

Text

Process & Reflection (Week 7)

Text Reflection

This week's chapter of the text discussed several very interesting typographic concepts, specifically concepts that pertain to the evolution of typographic technology.

I found it really interesting to read about the evolution of typographic design, from its very basic origins to its refined and versatile modern form. I especially found phototypesetting to be a really interesting method of designing typefaces. I had never heard of this method before reading this chapter, and I think it is something I would like to try someday.

I also found the brief section about the world of possibilities that modern screen-based typography has opened up for graphic designers interesting. The images reminded me of an article I recently read about the new standard, so to speak, for resumes and cover letters. While we've all been taught for years to develop an eye-catching and professional resume to get the attention of potential employers, with the introduction of AI algorithms, this is no longer the best idea.

If you include graphics or other interesting elements, such as a versatile and interesting display font, the AI algorithms will skip over your resume, costing you a job. This is particularly devastating to creatives looking for professional work because creative resumes and portfolios have always been the unquestioned norm.

I know that this train of thought is a bit tangential, but the side-by-side comparison in the textbook of what web-based typography used to look like at its very beginnings versus what it looks like nowadays was very striking. It’s upsetting and confusing that we have, with the introduction of AI, somehow gone backward.

Process

This is the part of the blog that I have been very anxious to write about. I don't want to overshare with strangers on the internet, but it’s been a difficult month.

I've been struggling with mental health as a result of a “domino effect” of family crises that all happened over the span of the last 2 weeks. I’ve been living in fight or flight the last few weeks because terrifying, unreal-feeling things keep happening and I feel like my family and world are falling apart.

My dad got sick a few months after I started college and he’s been in and out of the hospital ever since then. A few weeks ago, he was admitted to the ICU. My mom didn’t say anything about it to me until a week later, when he caught an infection from the hospital.

My boyfriend took a day off work to drive me to the hospital where my dad was originally admitted. I got to see my brothers, which was a little comforting. I’m so grateful to have them and my boyfriend. They keep me grounded and I really hope I do the same for them.

I tried to fill in as a parent and be there for my brothers as much as I could, but I’m bad at comforting people. I’m still trying to be there for them, even though I’m back in Columbia now. My mom has been in a New Jersey mental health facility since November, so they’re alone.

My dad is in a different hospital now, but it’s a much cleaner one than the first. He’s still fighting off the infection he caught from the other hospital.

I haven’t been sleeping and I'm exhausted. I’ve been spending most of my “down time” struggling to keep up with my classes’ assignments and projects. I feel like I’ve fallen behind. I’ve neglected a lot of other responsibilities like taking care of my physical health.

I'm just trying to do damage control at this point. I spoke to one of my professors about what my next steps should be, but I need to speak to my other professors still. I'm going to email/possibly meet with my advisor as well, because she helped me make it through a similar emergency with my family last year. I have an appointment at the Student Health Center on March 4th for counseling, which I need right now.

There's honestly nothing I want more than to go back to normal, sleep, and try to deal with what's happening and how I'm feeling through my projects.

Past project; original music festival logo on left and revised/final version on left.

Current project; envelope experiments (top) and pattern/typeface mood board (bottom).

0 notes

steveyockey · 3 years

Note

do you think that -- if they WERE planning to do gay angel press initially -- part of the reason they didn't might have been the (reactionary) bury your gays backlash from fans and non-fans? in which case. twitter rly does ruin everything. :/

I’m not tied to this but here’s a hypothetical to work through that at least provides a theory on the lack of gay angel press (probably not very different from any other theory on this website but just writing it out for continuity),

okay. pre-pandemic. the arc of the final few episodes seems to have been set and 15.18 was the last piece, pending jensen’s approval. roadhouse heaven ending was a go — presumably featuring a cas cameo among other various and sundry friends. approving 15.18 introduces a problem by way of the fact that cas has just confessed his undying love for dean and there’s an expected response. but it’s fine! you don’t actually need that, you’ve been baiting fans for a decade, you can work your magic one more time with a lil wink and nudge and never have to deal with that again. ambiguous “to each his own” ending, you talk up the gay angel on one side and the bronly-ness of the last hunt on the other; everyone walks away happy. you have successfully threaded the needle of finishing off a twelve year queerbait without “caving to the fans,” high fives all around.

15.18 gets filmed. the angel is gay gay. the footage is. we don’t know what the footage looks like. there could be anything. maybe there’s a kiss with tongue. ends up not really mattering because the pandemic happens and they have to stop shooting and stop airing. no idea how much changes in 15.19 (clearly SOME stuff considering we know the folks who got chuck snapped in the silo were supposed to be shown back in the flesh and that got cut). 15.20 has to change — so roadhouse heaven becomes three person heaven (plus the cast and crew, who were already on set so no, this is not proof they could have brought a crowd of actors anyway, it’s just. weird. I don’t like this decision. strikes me as authoritative like WE told the story not YOU. anyway). putting cas in three person heaven makes winking and nudging a lot harder to do and would make the absence of an actual substantive response to the confession uhhhh very obvious. so you have to cut cas. and then maybe you have to cut other references to cas in 15.19, maybe you cut some emotionality from dean’s side in 15.18, maybe you straight up insert the moment in 15.20 where dean tells sam to stop being an eeyore about cas’s death! we don’t know how much was changed, but there was at least the opportunity at this point to dull dean’s response to the whole thing so the absence of cas in heaven is more palatable. it’s the bronly ending, but you already gave the audience the gay angel. and the gay angel is alive and building heaven with his son! no more cashing in on the queerbait but still cashing in on canon gay.

it’s november 5th. 15.18 airs. it trends higher than the biggest election “of our lives.” holy shit! gay angel! but of course the issue is the people responding aren’t the people who have been watching the show. they don’t have context for what’s going on and “turbohell” catches on. fuck. did you kill the gay angel? of course not, he’s in heaven with his son! lisa berry can post her goodbye instagram to her character because obviously billie’s dead, she’s the villain. she’s not expected to come back. but cas is... cas is different. and he’s not dead and you won’t be taking any questions on this until we get to the end, when everyone can settle down. so you have your actors gush about the episode, you leave everyone on pins and needles so they’ll come back for two more, and then! well. 15.20. cas is “alive” technically. dean is dead, as you always planned. some people are happy, some people are middling, and some people are fucking pissed at you because apparently by not outright killing off the gay angel you promised them the gay angel was coming back. any clarification you would offer here would unspool your entire plan — gay angel on one side, brothers on the other. erasing cas isn’t the same as killing him, but you can’t say that (though misha basically did in response to the rogue translator shenanigans). killing dean wasn’t even supposed to be about cas, but now everything is about cas. you took him out of the story completely and he’s still managed to take over. and all you can say is, well, it’s always been a story about brothers.

this obviously doesn’t account for everything, such as what the fuck was uriel’s actor doing? why the fuck did the show actually give us the instructions for how to get someone out of the empty and not do it? and there’s an infinite number of things that could have happened that I would simply never guess not knowing specific onset dynamics and money decisions. whatever happened that caused this clusterfuck really does suck for everyone in that writers room who was on team gay angel because, as I have said in the past, 15.18 only works due to at least four years, if not seven or more, of consciously writing the angel as gay. I hope bobo and yockey and even misha feel personal satisfaction at a job well done, but god if a single fucking interview could at least let us indulge in the victory with them. anyway, all of this is to say, yes I do think the bury-your-gays of it all definitely plays into it (and I would say, again, linking this to it chapter 2, it’s significant muschietti and co decided to make richie gay over eddie; people who haven’t read the book might not know that eddie like. literally drinks mineral water. in the 80s. he wears gucci loafers. he marries a carbon copy of his mother. stephen king would never admit to writing a gay man but that was a gay man. but eddie dies! eddie always dies. so they had some good sense in giving the gay story to the one who lives and leaving the dead one holding all the coding). and I definitely think randos on twitter making fun of the confession did not help matters. but I also think the decision to pull press cannot be extricated from the rubble of the last two episodes and everything they promised but never delivered. literally a single second of cas in the finale would have been their golden ticket! that’s far more than what jj did for star wars! but they got played at their own game by, of all things, an international pandemic. somehow a very supernatural ending after all.

#anon #answered #did I answer the question? you decide!#spn

667 notes · View notes

billiejeanenthusiast · 3 years

Text

Boobiegate masterpost

We know what they did this summer - and oh boy, was a it a wild summer that - unfortunately for us - stretched into autumn and beyond any reason.

I will first go over everything as it happened and then - because when you look back at everything you realise some timelines overlap - I’ll try to clarify some stuff and put it into perspective.

NOTE: I’m writing the dates from a GMT time zone point of view (aka. UK time)

So let’s start from the beginning.

Briana breaks up with Brody Jenner after dating him for some random attention seeking period. (June-September roughly)

Here’s an article talking about that irrelevant relationship. https://www.yourtango.com/2020334835/who-brody-jenner-girlfriend-briana-jungwirth-louis-tomlinson-baby-mama Now let’s fast forward a bit to September.

September 23rd

So on September 23rd we’re flooded with articles about Brody and Bri breaking up and Bri getting back together with her “on-again off-again (boy)friend Nick” and the biggest surprise “BRI IS ENGAGED”

So the story is:

Bri ended her relationship with Brody because “they were moving too fast” and he had “already met Freddie”

She then gets back together with her on-again, off-again bf Nick Gordon

She, her family, and Nick go on a “whirlwind” trip to Las Vegas (MIND YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC)

Bri and Nick get engaged during those Covid inviting few days in Vegas (September 21st- September 23rd)

Articles drop about how they’re engaged and she’s broken up with Brody (Sept 23rd)

Bri, family and Nick all share a huge amount of Vegas pictures of them in love, Bri’s ring, Bri and Nick being a couple (pictures obviously taken before Vegas to hopefully make someone believe that this in no way is a whirlwind engagement after just knowing each other a few weeks. Did they convince anyone? Well if you are convinced - I’m worried for you)

Here’s the tmz article:https://www.tmz.com/2020/09/23/brody-jenner-split-briana-jungwirth-engaged/ Here’s some pics of them we were all subjected to while they were in Vegas. And Nick’s new public profile when it just got made. Was he trying to start an influencer career and say goodbye to being a firefighter? Was he trying to get a night job taking off that all firefighter gear for money? Magic mike was a big movie after all….Who knows.

September 28th

At first the engagement pictures on Nick’s IG were just him and Briana and he used the #/shesaidyes. After a few days and probably after they realised it would be a smart move to acknowledge her kid she claims to have too (👀) he deleted those and on September 28th posted new pictures with a new caption and new # of course. This time “theysaidyes”.

The pictures are below.

But, moving on.

As soon as the engagement news drops, we have Nick - our “good-guy firefighter” making a new and public IG account, flooding it with pictures where he professes his love for Bri and soaking up the d-list association fame.

So in the coming weeks we get a lot of Nick, Bri and their families on IG. They post a lot about being constantly together.

What was the most interesting they really pushed the “dad” image on Nick. He was constantly posting about Freddie and even in Bs or Tammi’s stories he was always seen interacting with F the most.

Then after it seemed like the new fiancees had settle into their soon-to-be married life and everything seemed rosy for them - we get hit with the whammy BOOBIEGATE.

Because hell hath no fury like a sugar daddy scorned.

October 15th

On the 15th of October celebtm a gossip site, posts the next picture and caption on IG:

Basically, they’re saying a guy - his name unknown yet - contacted them to tell them how Briana scammed him out of money she borrowed to get a boob job. Specifically 5k USD. He claims he filed the case in court and it’s dated January.

They ask if anyone else has similar receipts or anything about her and that they’re investigating and will be writing a story. And the comments have a lot to say about Bri.

October 19th

4 days later on October 19th celebtm posts another IG update about how they have the court filing and how their article is in progress.

October 21st

2 days after the last IG post celebtm finally posts their article - on the 21st of October

https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-briana-jungwirth-sued-over-boob-job/

(It’s on the web still - if it ever gets deleted let me know I have screen recordings of it)

The article is accompanied by this (below) IG post:

Also on this day we get Briana and Nick deactivating their IG profiles. Nick still kept his personal private IG and the only person who stayed public is Tammi.

October 22nd

A day after the article dropped there’s another IG post with the following picture and caption. Apparently, Sugar Daddy shared his receipts - specifically AmEx - with celebtm.

October 26th

On October 26th celebtm posts the second part of the article. It’s messier, with a more confusing timeline than the first, but tries to “spill” more details on Sugar Daddies relationship with Briana and her life in general.

Also by now we know his name - Michael Strauss. An investor in Warwick club in LA.

https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-baby-mama-briana-jungwirth-double-life/

(Again this is the link - if the article gets taken down and you want to see it - DM me)

October 27th

Then a day later we get another IG post - no new article - just more excerpts from what the Sugar Daddy told celebtm.

Then it’s quiet for a few days and when you think this can’t get even more trashy - low and behold the circus that is called October 29th.

October 29th

So after a few days of silence celebtm strikes again, but this time they bring in TV’s most loved judge - Judge Judy. Apparently the TV show was willing to take this litigation and air it as an episode.

As always, they post an IG post and a caption, and the article mentioned in the IG caption below is basically an article written for clicks about Louis and Harry because they saw the larrie part of the fandom was getting them clicks. I’ll leave the link to the article here for documentation purposes, but honestly there’s nothing in there worth giving them clicks for. Not a thing. The title of the article is “A Complete Guide to 1D Members Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles’ Rumoured Relationship”

Article: https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-harry-styles-relationship/

November 6th

We see the sudden return from social media exile of Bri to IG. She’s back - with a post and the description ironically saying “I’m back”. I refuse to post it because does anyone really want to look at her face-tuned selfies?

November 9th

Then after weeks of radio silence, the return of Bri to IG, we get what is apparently the - very underwhelming - like Bri’s boobs to Sugar Daddy who never got to see them - conclusion to this Sugar Daddy drama. This following article which is basically a letter from Michael to Briana telling her how he’s giving up on the lawsuit, taking this as a life lesson and how he hopes no one else falls for her scams. Article below:

https://celebmagazine.com/michael-straus-briana-jungwirth-open-letter-to-one-direction-louis-tomlinson-alleged-baby-mama/

(Again this is the link - if the article gets taken down and you want to see it - DM me)

And of course - the article is accompanied by an IG post by celebtm.

So, here we currently are. After watching that circus show no one wanted not paid for (well except the Sugar Daddy, and he didn’t even get to see the thing he paid for - so sad.) we’re in November and the Jungwirths and company are back to their carefree posting on IG.

Current status:

The lawsuit seems to have been dropped.

Everything seems to be in process of being swept under the rug.

Nick - the loving fiancee - is back to IG too. All of his happy, loving pictures with Bri still up (some deleted) - so we must assume their love survived Boobiegate.

As for overlapping timelines:

The timelines overlap mostly during the months March-October with it being said Bri dated Brody, but was also taking money from Boobie Daddy who was helping her during the pandemic, and was later also apparently starting a serious relationship with Nick.

What actually went on - I don’t know. And I’m honestly not interested to find out. This is being mentioned just so anyone coming across this post knows that yes - you didn’t read it wrong - the timelines do overlap with different people saying different things and Bri being tied to all three men at those times without any real clear timeline for the relationships.

So far this is all there is to this mess. If there’s more - I’ll do a part two or addition.

I’d like to end this with saying - these masterposts are 95% just me making them for myself because I forget stuff, and so much goes on in the fandom that if I want to keep up with it all, I need a nice timeline for things. I’m posting this for anyone wanting to make sense of this circus too or just to put it into a timeline. I did fact check all the dates, posts, IG pics, links and so on - but mistakes can happen - if there is one feel free to let me know.

#boobiegate #bri #masterpost

646 notes · View notes

dallonm-archive · 3 years

Photo

REVELATIONS, REVELATIONS | UPDATE #1

Hello y’all! I refuse to believe it’s been 3 and a half months since I last made an update post for this novel because time is not real :) whoops! This has actually been sat in my drafts for like a month though

A rundown of things that happened:

We have a new title! I already went into the meta and possible interpretations (it’s ~ambiguous~), so if you want you can read about that HERE.

I did 3 weeks of Nano and wrote 15k words! On the site I recorded 15053 but I think it was more 15.5k? I’ve edited the original doc now so idk but I’m v happy with that!

After that I took a break and a lot of Life Things happened re a certain pandemic that is taking :) all my motivation :) so I didn’t return to drafting until January. I also really struggled to progress with the story and decided the best thing was to revisit what I already had and work on that

It’s not that the original chapters weren’t working, I was just trying to understand the story for the first time and also Nano was such a hazy blur and I’m 99% sure November didn’t happen. I probably won’t revisit a section this intensely again until I’ve finished the draft but at this stage it really helped because the more I worked on it, the more I understood where it had to go next - I know the structure (for now), the basics for the middle and how the story ends :) hehe :) and I don’t think I’d had those revelations (aha) without revisiting this first part. I got to fall in love with the story all over again and I’m very happy with where it’s going!

This intro is already getting so long so I’m just going to jump straight into it because this update is LONG. I’m talking about all the chapters today even though not all of them are new, but since I’ve learnt a lot about them and this is officially update #1 post-nano, it makes sense to talk about all of them! I’m also going to do a new taglist because I see this as a new set of updates also I am awful at keeping up with taglists so! I’m just tagging friends who have already expressed interest + mutuals who I’m like 99% sure want to stay on so! please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@kowlazovdi @isherwoodj @avi-burton-writing @pamsdrabbles @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @svpphicwrites @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @writerlywonders @haldimilks @alicewestwater @piyawrites @coffeeandcalligraphy @shaelinwrites

usual content warnings for religious trauma and cult discussion, specific CWs will come before excerpts!

So I’m currently working with four parts, and I’ve extended the timeline from one year to four years. This suits the story much better BUT pretty much everything here was written before that decision and I do not have the energy to restructure all of it right now :) Each part is split into two sections, one for each POV. So four parts, 8 sections, Felix and Dorothy get four sections each. I let the structure grow with the story but this one is working very well!

Also I started setting my pages to light green and it was LIFE CHANGING. Much kinder on the eyes and just looks so nice?? Calming?? This post is your sign to set your page colour to light green like LOOK

So we have a prologue now!! The story made a lot more sense once I added this because originally the information we learn was just shoehorned into Chapter 1 in a flashback when really we needed to know this information going into it. That being said I struggled with this for a bit just because to justify a prologue I need that information to be conveyed in a way that is completely unique to the rest of the narrative so I didn’t want to just write this as a flashback. I ended up writing it in 2nd person and it came out in a way where it’s not clear which twins POV it is? Like it’s more of a fusion of both of them where neither of them have their own individual identity beyond “the twins” yet. I can’t tell if this is my funky POV peak or a clarity nightmare but I like it! I want it to only be ~500 words so we can take the risk.

In this they’re fourteen and they do a “blood pact” as a way to symbolically cut themselves from their family (aka: their father) whilst they’re still tethered to it. I really love it because not only is it exactly what these slightly unhinged-but-havent-tapped-into-it-yet, co-dependent-and-dont-realise-it kids would do but it immediately brings up the question of family and what family actually is. I’ve also realised a huge idea in this story is the idea of the tangible and for them, the concept of family and blood isn’t tangible so they struggle to recognise its significance (not that it. has any for them in the first place.) but their relationship, seeing each other bleed and pressing the cuts together is. The writing itself is kinda wonky because of the whole funky clarity nightmare POV but here’s a little taste of the ending:

cw: blood

You’ll slink back into your family room to clean and plaster each other’s hands and you’ll ask yourselves: which bloodstains came from who? Who bled the most and who stopped first? Who will come up with the story for the cuts on your palms and who will dispose the bloodied towel? Who is Dorothy without Felix and who is Felix without Dorothy?

Shiny new first chapter! Originally this was in Dorothy’s POV but now it’s switched to Felix and instead of just showing their reunion (which turns out is....very anticlimactic and not appropriate for an opening lol??) we actually explore Felix’s thoughts an actions after he decides to escape the cult, which was a very impulsive decision and spans about a day and a half. This one is definitely gonna take a few drafts to get right because it’s such a delicate but intense event to write and I’m content with the fact that it’s not There Yet but the prose is! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and it really helped me get back into the swing of loving this story. There’s something very delicate about it but also very troubling under the surface. The opening gave me a lot of trouble, but the first line hits!

The day Felix decides to leave the sun glows the same, and the pine trees breathe the same, and the chapel cross stabs the sky the same.

Ironically, a good chunk of the chapter happens outside the cult, as Felix decides to spend his final day taking Lola - a woman his age who is literally the only person he likes lmao - to one of the nearby towns. Whilst the main function of the chapter is to introduce the cult itself, it’s also to show how normalised leaving actually is - it’s just every time he’s left has been temporary, and every time he has left, he still feel separated from this “outside world”. They go to a candy store and a thrift store - where Felix lies about his mom (who he hasn’t seen in 20 years) being in hospital so he can use a phone :) Lola is a new character so I don’t have much to say on her, but all I can say is they are wlw and mlm solidarity but also she knows how to read him

“I don’t know why Dotty and I loved this place so much - we always got toothaches.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“These apple ones are nice, but I think the lime is my favourite. Do you think the apple or the lime is nicer?”

“I think you’re leaving, but I also think you’re scared, so you’re pretending that I’m going to leave with you and that’s why you wanted to go to town. You chose the candy shop because this is where you went the first time you left, but this time you’re not coming back. Does that scare you, Fel?”

And here is my favourite paragraph in the whole chapter because <3 what the fuck <3 and if pine trees are a key Felix symbol no they aren’t 👁️ yes they are

cw: falling out a window? pushing yourself out a window? description of bones breaking

The day Felix decides the leave, when the clouds bleed amber, he pushes the scratched mahogany dresser so it lines with the windowsill, lies on top and hangs his head out. It’s never comfortable, but it’s always peaceful: sometimes cars murmur on nearby backroads, sometimes a wind chime flutters, sometimes brush rabbits rustle in shrubbery and they all breathe the same oxygen as him. He closes his eyes, inhales the pine air, and plays God: pushes himself further out, an inch at a time, until his shoulders cross the line and he wonders what bones would break if he fell. Would he break both arms or one, both legs or one? Would he break his spine? Which vertebra would crack, and how many? Would he feel them all in one big strike, or all the individual bones burst like popping candy? Evening breeze whispers against his face and he could do it right now, leap out the window and if he didn’t break his legs or back he could run to the bushes, to the pine trees, to the road, the town over East or West, the county line.

If Felix hit the ground, would it be because of a freak fall, or because he pushed himself out?

We have to laugh because I’m pretty sure I said in my Nano update that this chapter was the strongest so far besides one scene but when I looked back that scene <3 took up 80% of the fucking chapter <3 So I just said fuck it I’ll rewrite the whole thing for fun!!!! And I love it!!! It’s so jarring compared to Chapter One and that’s the point!! Everything is so over saturated and originally that was just to convey the absolute shock Felix gets from the Major Impulsive Life Decision He Just Made, but now I think it’s intentional on his part and it goes back to the idea of the tangible: whilst he didn’t grow up totally isolated this is still a new life for him, and he has nothing to latch onto, so he looks to his surroundings and hyper-focuses and latches onto it because it’s something that’s now tangible and accessible to him so he sees it in this very bright, romanticised way (the romanticisation of San Francisco is very amusing to me but it’s also very relevant). But even with that he still distances himself from this environment still - the same way he did whilst living in the cult. He has no idea how he wants to exist in this world and he doesn’t even know how to exist yet.

And so it became clockwork: eyes burst open at two, three, four in morning, doesn’t bother trying to fall back to sleep. Lurk into the kitchen, make a coffee or water or whiskey. Sit under the fritzing lightbulb with no shade, think about everything and nothing and everything and nothing. Or go for a smoke, inhale the vapours until it hurts his chest, breathe in the cool air until it hurts his teeth, wander around the block until it hurts his feet. Sneak back into a room that doesn’t belong to him in an apartment that doesn’t belong to him in a city that doesn’t belong to him. Count the bumps in the popcorn ceiling until footsteps sneak down the hall – Dorothy leaving a room that doesn’t belong to her. Join his sister back at the kitchen, she complains that they need to replace the lightbulb. Over pulpy orange juice and scrambled eggs on toast, she retells her dream and lists the possible meanings and he lists his plans for that day on how to immerse in the outside world, familiarise himself with the city until it belongs to him. Travel by trolley for the first time, eat seafood at the waterfront for the first time. Bump into a cherry-headed conure parrot by chance. Climb Twin Peaks and gaze at the new view of home. Trace the outline of translucent mountains in the air and pretend you’ll ever hike them; trace the outline of high rises in the air and pretend you know the people in them. He asks Dorothy when he’ll stop feeling like a tourist – she has no answer for him.

(context: Dorothy’s roommate, Jolie, is out of town at this point, so Dorothy tells Felix to take her room whilst she takes Jolie’s and they’ll sort it out later. Dorothy has no problem sleeping in Jolie’s bed because her and Jolie are Very Good Friends)

I also realised that, in the nicest way possible to November me, that this chapter was so damn boring because it’s very dialogue heavy but in every dialogue moment they are literally just 🧍 doing nothing. So I wrote a scene as a half-joke of Just Met Like Three Hours Ago Beau and Felix going to the arcade and it saved this chapter. It is SO fun but it also comes straight after this very emotionally intense moment and it’s really interesting to see that reach its zenith and then just. fizzle out but linger in the background? I love this scene but I also can’t take it too seriously because they play Frogger and @aetherwrites joked that the game’s a metaphor for Felix leaving the cult and I love her and hate her because she is so right I can picture the LIT1000 seminar where that analysis would be made unironically and it’d be ME who makes it and I am so close to just running with that for real. Also these two aren’t love at first sight but the chemistry is so loud like did you two meet today or have you been married for eight years and own five dogs together what’s the truth? Anyway here’s Felix murdering Beau on sight

“You know, you could’ve warned me that you’d be that good,” Beau says.

“It’s not that difficult, you could’ve warned me that you’d be that bad.”

Beau leans across to shuffle through cassette tapes in the glove compartment. “I’m not, you just got lucky. I let you win.”

“But it’s not even competitive. You just died seven times in a row.”

I’m a little unsure of the pacing for this chapter now because its effectiveness lies in the fact it takes place a week after the previous, and my job with this section post-draft is to stretch it out longer since it only spans three weeks. I’m hoping I can make it work where there’s little time between Chapter 1 & 2 but still cover more time in chapters 3-5 because I think that’d be jarring in the best way? Like the absolute intensity of that initial week quickly dissolving and suddenly he’s been living this life for months he didn’t notice go by. Again <3 a problem for post draft me <3

I don’t have much to say about this one because in Nano I didn’t even finish it, and now I have but it’s still <3 giving me trouble <3 - however I’ve realised this is probably the most important chapter at this stage of the novel because it’s the first full chapter with just the twins, trying to have a bonding moment and catch up but only learning that they a) love each other b) can’t stand each other whilst not realising just yet that they are c) extremely co-dependent. I like to call this novel multiple plot threads in a trench coat and that’s definitely it, the twins have their own individual plot threads separate to one another, but if there’s a central plot (and there kinda is?? its a surprise :) ) at its essence is them realising how fucked up their relationship is, but wanting to rectify that and trying to understand the difference between a tangled and toxic relationship.

This chapter introduces that each character has a key symbol that’s attached to the world somehow and Felix has chapters like these in his arc where he tries to navigate the state of their relationship (so there’s one later on titled “Ocean (Beau)”) and his associations with them. We have to laugh here because I was really like “oh Dorothy is sapphic so I’ll make her obsessed with the moon” but then it became a major symbol in the story <3 Dorothy IS obsessed with the moon, and Felix is frustrated because he can’t see it the way she does and he feels like part of him is missing because of that, when it��s just a different perspective but nooo these two need to have unhealthy co-dependency and then get mad when they’re unhealthily co-dependent on each other :/ Anyway I’d just like to talk about how Felix’s need to be like his sister in this chapter is demonstrated through a symbol that’s attached way more to her than it is to him even though in the prose he describes the moon as this fragile, breakable thing which is the complete opposite as how Dorothy would and lets talk about the blade mirroring the prologue!!!!

He closed an eye and pointed the blade at the moon. If he could, it’d be so easy: surgeons precision, swift wrist flick, carved and plucked from the sky. Laid out on his palm like tissue paper, half translucent and as breakable as skin - a birthday present for Dorothy, if he doesn’t tear it. He’ll try not to, but it’d be so easy.

In further development of the Moon Imagery, I’ve started using a lot of Star Imagery with Felix and a lot of general space imagery in both of their POVs and I’m delighted to say I have no idea what the meta means with that but I like it!! It fits the story very well and they’re probably mirroring each other or something!

This little chapter taught me that I need to be flexible with form <3 this was originally meant to be the final scene of the last chapter, and I was so hyped because it was one of the first scenes I conceptualised, but then it ~sucked~. However I didn’t realise until recently that it sucked because I was writing it in a traditional storytelling form - which most of this book benefits from, but this moment certainly does! not! I’m really glad because I think this book is the perfect playground for experimental form - although here it’s relatively simple though, most of the setup for this happens at the end of the previous chapter and then this is just all the information condensed as much as possible. This chapter is focused on memories so it really works for it to be cut off from the previous which is in the fictive present, and Felix’s perception of memories right now are ~a little jarring~

The final scene of Moon (Dotty) depicts Felix and Dorothy breaking into a park at 4am, promptly having an argument that results in Dorothy leaving, and Felix sat next to a fountain picking pennies out of it and trying to associate a memory with the year on the back - this chapter is those memories and this introduces the fluid relationship characters have with their past. For Felix, he’s seeing the last 20+ years from a bird eyes view in a very sporadic way and it’s starting to sink in that those 20+ years actually Happened. Some of the memories are very distanced, others are as intense as flashbacks, and some are a mixture of the two. This one is very interesting to me because he completely separates himself from the memory halfway through Fel do you wanna talk about this (unfortunately I cannot drop the name because of plot <3)

cw: light/implied homophobia

IN GOD WE TRUST / 1978

The first time Felix held a boys hand was in 1978 in the back pew at morning service. It was the first time [redacted]’s father preached and they got stuck in the back because they arrived late, because they laid in the grass together, wearing each other’s identical pecan coloured blazers as sunrise peeled back the night, and they slunk into the back of service like ghosts everyone could see and maybe they knew why they were late. [Redacted]’s father had a razor voice and he made sure every word sliced into his son and his son interlocked fingers with the boy next to him. His son didn’t look at the boy he held hands with the same way he’ll pretend his blazer is his and not the boys and the same way he didn’t look at the boy the first time they kissed behind the chapel building and the same way he didn’t look at the boy during Bible study for the week after.

Whilst I’d say in Chapter 2 the chemistry between Beau and Felix is as clear as day this is the first instance where Felix’s queerness is explicitly introduced and I’m taking this chance to say this book gets more queer every fucking week. Like I think in the last updates I was like ohhh sexuality doesn’t play much into Felix’s arc and know it’s like 99% of his damn arc and we LOVE it. But at this point he doesn’t realise like when I tell you guys this man is so repressed

I am literally only putting this here because I talk about all the other chapters and it’s weird to me to leave one out. Also because the graphic and title is pretty. Not gonna lie I love making these posts and that is 10% to ramble about meta 90% making pretty graphics that is literally just cropping photos on Unsplash and putting Garamond text over them <3

Anyway this was originally Lessons in Holy and when I revisited that chapter I realised it was so fucking messy and I tried to fix it but it didn’t really work and I’ve been scared to touch it since. However the meta is top notch so here we are - it mirrors Chapter One, Everything Holy, which explores Felix’s decision to leave the cult and with that, leave God. Everything Holy / In San Francisco explores his relationship (or lack thereof) with God and how much Felix’s life has changed since he left - and how “holy” it is. It definitely goes back to the idea of the tangible because the holiness preached to him growing up was not something tangible to him, whereas with this he looks at real life experiences, so he tries to find holiness in that. It also ties with Cyan City and the romanticisation of San Francisco as something tangible and something he can find holiness in, which a) he needs to learn that things don’t have to be “holy” to be valuable and b) it would be a shame if :) he centred everything good about his life around SF and then :) something bad were to happen whilst living in SF :) the way he and Dorothy both do this

My plan for this is basically: Condense The Shit Out Of It. The hardest part about this chapter is it is very thematic and you know as a lit major (derogatory) I love that but with more theme centric chapters the line between subtle and Too Much can be verrryyy thin, but I think focusing on character exploration over theme will fix that pretty easily. I’d also like to separate the Isaias introduction into its own chapter because it’s such an important moment and November me just? Latched it on at the end? And that plus Felix’s crisis in the same chapter is just too much. This chapter is gonna get changed A Lot but for now here’s Felix’s very chill and relaxed ending to his POV section :)

cw: drowning, drug mention

Felix didn’t speak to God for three weeks and everything unholy became holy: the coffee scorching his throat, the kaleidoscopic t-shirts and high waisted jeans, the punk rock they play at the record store – loud and electric. It’s unholy, but he sleeps through the night now, he folds coloured card into butterflies at breakfast and scribbles biro eyes over the newspaper's sudoku on his lunch break. He earns money and he spends a pinch of it on himself: on new wave records and playing cards and earrings he can’t wear yet. Sometimes he buys marijuana it’s not a sin because marijuana means he only smokes tobacco twice a day now – one at breakfast, one before bed. He bar hops with Beau on Saturdays and hikes with Dorothy on Sundays and he tells strangers he studies American Literature and he smiles with his eyes more and nobody notices that somebody’s holding his head underwater. And he doesn’t know whose hand it is, but it knows how to grip tight. And he doesn’t know how to swim, but he knows how to swallow water. And he doesn’t know if this is the punishment or the sin because the water stings his eyes but he chooses to keep them open, and the water will tangle in his lungs but he chooses to keep his mouth open. And hellfire can’t touch him under here, so he’ll keep swallowing water and it’ll burn him in a different way, and he’ll like how it scorches his throat.

(Once again context I didn’t share because I don’t like the writing that talks about it: Felix has a deep fear of drowning from past trauma, but he’s also very obsessive about it and often imagines himself drowning.)

(also the way these excerpts are just showing off my love for repetition my Intro to Creative Writing Tutor that called repetition lazy is seething rn!!!!)

Overall though, I’m v happy with how this section came out now that I actually know what the story is! As I’ve finished drafting it, I have noticed where the missing plot beats are and this is what I expected because I Do Not have a lot of experience with novels (I’ve never passed 15k on a novel before so we’re in new territory now) and generally struggle to see beats before I finish a draft. I’m thinking there’s at least one chapter missing and maybe a shorter one, like MSATBOTF, but I won’t be touching this section again until I finish the draft. Most of all I learnt a lot about the story’s form and I’m excited to play with that and be a bit more flexible!

I’m currently drafting Indigo, the first chapter in Dorothy’s POV, and I was going to talk more about it but this post is too long and the next update will be <3 all about her <3. But the chapter introduces her and Jolie’s tumultuous relationship and here’s a lil peak!

Me, a sapphic, capable of writing happy sapphic relationships:

Me instead:

cw: light/implied homophobia

If she didn’t display the ticket on the bedside table - like she had something to prove - she could have easily been in Dallas, in New York, London, Cannes, Moscow, Tokyo, Cairo, Sydney. But wherever she went, Dorothy and Jolie have had four airport reunions before today - four times they’ve had to soften themselves, disguise themselves. Old high school friend flying in to be her maid of honour, college roommates who don’t see each other as a day past eighteen, pen pals reuniting for the first time since the seventies, business trip colleagues in casualwear. The fifth time, there’s nothing to hide, and as they walk to the car, Dorothy has to wonder: if they were seen by nobody, would Jolie have hugged her with both arms? Would she have kissed her? Would Dorothy kiss back?

I’m midway through this chapter, so I’ll keep the rest of it for the next update! That I promise won’t be in three months!

If you read through all of this then I am in love with you <3

#i'd say im sorry this is so long but it was so fun to write so i'm not!#also pls be proud i cut 2k words from this bc i RAMBLED #atlastracking #writeblr #writing update #revelations revelations

62 notes · View notes

idiopath-fic-smile · 3 years

Text

hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that I’d been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesn’t map onto any kind of an AU so I guess it’s original fiction? enjoy?

Cityton Chronicles, part 1

The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.

Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, “You'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will pay” and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)

Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.

Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.

Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? “I'm more of a big-picture person.” Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.

Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.

The parameters were clear enough: full moon—check. Chalk for pentagrams—check. One hundred lit candles—check. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...

This was where things got dicey.

The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.

Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.

“It looked pretty dark online,” Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.

“Pretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?” said Edmund. “Did it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?” Carl stuck out his chin. “It's almost black.”

“Yes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,” Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, “but fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.”

Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.

He sighed. “Carl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.” Carl frowned. “Is there time?”

Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. “Hurry. And save the receipt.”

Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warm—or not—a single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.

He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.

“Boss,” said a hesitant voice behind him.

“What is it, Stephanie,” said Edmund.

Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.

“Is that thing about bananas really true?”

“Yeah,” said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. “Where's Donna?”

“You should call her,” said Stephanie. “Donna never answers her texts.”

Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.

Donna answered on the fourth ring. “What?” She sounded groggy.

“Did you,” said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, “forget what night the Ritual was?”

“Oh shit,” mumbled Donna. “Are you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.”

“At night,” said Edmund. “Twelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.”

Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. “Can you hold, Donna,” he hissed.

“Hey boss,” said Carl, “the bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?”

“HOLD,” Edmund shouted, switching calls again. “Donna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?”

“Like a bathrobe?” said Donna, sounding lost.

Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.

“Uh, boss?” Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.

“One second, Donna,” said Edmund.

“How much longer is this gonna be?” said Leroy. “Because I was gonna catch the late show tonight—”

“Watch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!” Edmund snapped. “Donna—”

“I can be there by 12:40,” said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. “There's some errands I wanna run first.”

“It's the middle of the night, what errands!” said Edmund. “Donna, hold—” He switched back to Carl. “Listen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?”

“White or green only,” Carl affirmed. “Some of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?”

“Boss,” said Frank from the other side of the roof, “we lost the chalk?”

“Hold on, Carl,” said Edmund. “What?”

“It was here a second ago!” “Did you secure the chalk against the wind?”

“What?” said Frank.

“The chalk, it's cylindrical!” Edmund managed to shout. “Did you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?”

Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.

Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.

“Uh boss,” said Stephanie. “It's 12:01.”

Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.

“Alright,” said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. “Pack it in, we'll try again next full moon.”

“Phew,” said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. “It's cold out.”

“I FOUND A BLUE ONE!” Carl shouted from the speaker. “IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

Edmund turned his phone off.

Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.

It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.

Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme.

“Hey man,” said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. “I saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.”

They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. “Sweater candles? What, like burning wool?” he said.

Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.

“Maybe burning wool smells phenomenal,” said Edmund instead, rocking forward. “There's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your whole—” he waved his hands vaguely “—moral compass.”

“Word travels fast,” said Dragonfly gravely. “I am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.”

Edmund squared his shoulders. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. “Doing what?”

“Fighting,” said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Ah,” said Dragonfly after a pause. “Oh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?” He steepled his fingers. “You seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.” Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, “Or, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.”

“I am here,” said Edmund firmly, “to perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summon—”

“Yeah?” said Dragonfly. “Where's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?”

“So,” said Edmund blankly, “what now?” He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.

“I give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,” said Dragonfly. “I hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” “Fuck off,” Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.

Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. “Fair enough.” He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. “Uh, do you have a way down?”

“Obviously,” said Edmund.

“Yeah,” said Dragonfly. “Uh, okay.” They regarded each other. “What is it?” said Dragonfly after a few seconds.

Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.

Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, “I could carry you down?”

“How,” said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.

Dragonfly took a step closer. “Fireman or bridal?”

Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. “Is that a meme?” he settled on finally.

“Do you,” said Dragonfly, “have a preference on how I carry you.”

“We haven't even established that you're going to,” Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.

Dragonfly sighed. “I can't leave you up here,” he said. “One, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.”

“So I don't have a choice,” Edmund spat.

“You totally have a choice,” said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. “Hell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.”

This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.

“Mum's the word?” Edmund echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

“I'm an old fucking soul, dude,” said Dragonfly. “Point being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?”

This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.

“What if you drop me?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. “Don't you think that might go against my whole—” he gestured with both hands “moral compass?”

Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.

“I don't care,” Edmund said at last.

“What?” said Dragonfly.

“Bridal or fireman's carry,” said Edmund. “I don't care.”

Dragonfly nodded sagely. “Let's get this over with, then,” he said. “Hey, d’you want help with your candles?”

Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.

“Fine,” said Edmund.

“Huh,” said Dragonfly several minutes later. “This one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.”

Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.

“Rain and ocean are two completely different things,” said Edmund. “The surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.”

“The vibe, I grant you,” said Dragonfly. “But salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?”

“The ocean has a smell,” Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year before—well. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You've got me there,” he said. “Never been.” Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.

Edmund blew out another few tapers.

“This one's just called Singing Carols,” Dragonfly announced. “Guess what it smells like, I dare you.”

And so on.

In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmer—or at least slightly less freezing—on street-level.

Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time to—again—flitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.

His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.

“Thank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,” Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.

Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.

“Right,” said Dragonfly. “Right. Well then. Happy trails.” He seemed to consider this. “Or you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?”

“Why,” said Edmund flatly.

Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.

“For your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?”

As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.

“I'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,” growled Edmund.

“Yikes,” said Dragonfly easily. “Well, I'm off.” And with that, he took to the sky.

Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.

#original fiction #cityton chronicles #I'm sure that in some obscure way the fact that I'm thinking about this now is due to mainlining The Untamed #but this is definitely. not that.#warning for an extremely brief mention of transphobia that the main character condemns #also apparently there is a dragonfly-themed superhero in a 2008 superhero spoof movie?#let's say that movie exists in this world too and Dragonfly has taken a lot of shit for it #that sounds about right

134 notes · View notes