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m0srael · 8 months

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FIC REC:

A wee spinoff of my lapsed but not dead series, Reading Recs From Friends

I Was GIFTED (!!!)

The Waiting by @oknowkiss w/ art by @babooshkart [Drarry | E | 43k] cw: substance abuse, depression, grief

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love. inspired by the fantastic song "this tornado loves you" by neko case.

One Sentence Recap: Everyone in Harry's life is trying desperately to drag him out of the past, away from the moment he lost Draco to the unknown, but what if the past is the only thing that will save them both?

"I have waited with a glacier's patience Smashed every transformer with every trailer 'Til nothing was standing 65 miles wide Still you are nowhere Still you are nowhere Nowhere in sight" -Neko Case, This Tornado Loves You

This song is one of my absolute favorite songs of all time--it captures the raw emotion of frantic, seemingly-doomed, mutually destructive love in a way that doesn't deny its potential, all-consuming beauty. There's something painfully sweet about the music, the lyrics, and also this fic that @oknowkiss wrote based on a prompt I submitted for @hd-wireless 2023, and then GIFTED to me! Elaine and I share a deep love of complicated, plotty, twisty stories--I gaze up at them in awe every time I read something new by them because they are such a master of plot and narrative. This story is no exception--the characters are exceptionally imagined, the world is rich and unique, the mystery keeps you guessing in the best of ways, and the twist will absolutely take your damn breath away. I laughed, I cried actual tears, and I had to sit for a long time once I finished trying to figure out how to breathe again. Here are some specific things I loved about this story:

👨🏽‍🤝‍👨🏼 The Relationship Dynamics This particular song certainly opens the door for angst and tension and HOO BOY does E deliver on that front. Harry's depression and grief over Draco's disappearance feels so palpable and relatable. At times I pitied him, felt real heartbreak for him, and wanted to give him a firm slap to the back of the head. Draco is ESPECIALLY magnificently realized in this story--he has every characteristic I love: sharp and witty, scared and desperate, arrogant but deeply unsure of himself. He is the perfect foil to a Harry who is unmoored and craving some sort of connection with someone or something. The tension between them crackles with unspoken resentment, fiery sexual attraction, and the sort of nihilistic self-importance that seems to saturate early adulthood. It makes for some INCREDIBLE smut--no spoilers but there is a scene that begins in a dive bar in Alaska that you will be thinking about probably for the rest of your life🔥🔥. E also crafts some incredible relationships between Harry and the rest of the characters. The dynamics between him and Ron and Hermione are delicious as they worry for his very sanity and try their best to be good friends to him. E's OCs are spectacular--there is one in particular who has my whole heart, I don't even need to tell you which one you will absolutely know.

🌎 The World Building Elaine takes a very cool approach to ministry training and curse breaking that I've never read before--their descriptions of the training camp are so vivid I could picture everything so well as it happened. This story takes us and the characters around the world, and E really takes the time to ground us sensorially and paint us an incredible picture of exactly what Harry is experiencing. His depression and grief come through in the environment that he's built for himself--there are little symbols that reappear throughout the fic that feel like gentle taps on the shoulder--remember this?. It's a really masterful way of making an expansive, potentially disjointed universe feel smaller, traversable, and knowable. It can also be very challenging to describe brand new magical mechanics and theory in a way that a reader can understand, without bogging them down in detail--again, E does this beautifully. I felt totally sucked in to the world they crafted!=

📝 The Plot Look, it is very hard to write a mystery story that doesn't alienate the reader but still holds back some twists and surprises. It's even HARDER to do all of those things when you're writing in not one, but TWO timelines, and E absolutely smashes it with this fic. I had so many (incorrect) theories about what the hell was happening as I was reading--it was so fun to take the little crumbs E was leaving and try to make sense of them while Harry also tried to make sense of them. I am so delighted that at the end, some of the things I speculated about came to pass, but there were many things that I didn't see coming!

🎨 Bonus: The Art @babooshkart NEVER MISSES that is a truth universally acknowledged, one affirmed by the art they created for this story. Pictures, imagery, and the act of looking play such a vivid role in this story and Boo manages to capture so many of the little details Elaine uses to activate her narrative and her characters in a single, incredible image. Looking at Boo's art invites us to step into Harry's shoes, and lets us a little further into his world. The lighting in the photo feels close and intimate to the point of being lonely, the clutter Boo included in the scene echoes Harry's feeling of being crowded and overwhelmed by the case and by life, and as always Harry are (young) Draco are depicted beautifully.

Thank you for writing this story and gifting it to me!

More to read from @oknowkiss: 📚 a licence to kill [Drarry | M | 11k] 📚 Their microfic may 2022 series, jesus, etc. [Drarry | E | 3k] 📚 the complete idiot's guide to losing your entire mind [Drarry | E | 10k] 📚 Historians [Drarry | E | 30k]

More to look at from @babooshkart: 🎨 Boo's own Wireless 2023 contribution, Keep Driving [M] 🎨 The art they made for booktopus's Reverse Bang fic, A Convergence of Inks [G] 🎨 This steamy Dronarry they did for HP Triadfest 2022 [E] 🎨 Twenty five (25!!!!!!) drawings they did for 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2021

#mose recs #reading recs from friends #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fic #hd wireless 2023 #hd wireless fic and art #oknowkiss #babooshkart #healing my little brain one story at a time

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laufire · 1 year

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yesterday I finally finished my ARC of ✨ "When The Stars Alight"✨, and I have now posted reviews in goodreads and storygraph ^-^

(c&p under the cut)

I had the honour to receive an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

(this review might contain some very vague spoilers)

The first thing that merits mentioning in this book is its prose. With an omniscient narrator and lush descriptions of the settings, the characters, and every grand or minute detail, reading it feels like being immersed in a vivid moving painting. I’d recommend the story to those of us who appreciate this kind of writing style; and to those who might be on the fence, I’d ask them to be open-minded, to take their time, and to welcome it in in order to enjoy everything else this story has to offer. I must also commend the artist that illustrated the beautiful cover, as well as the art inside the book, for aiding to the sensory experience.

As for the book, I’m particularly enamoured with the worldbuilding. WTSA, and the universe it introduces us to as a first installment, can’t be called a typical fantasy story. If, like me, you both love this genre but tragically find yourself disappointed by how repetitive, superficial or conservative some of its examples can be, this book could be just what gets you out of that slump. The world it presents is utterly different from our own, with original fantasy species, each wonderfully distinctive. On the one hand you have Solarites: powerful star maidens fallen from the sky that benevolently rule over humans (some of them with magical abilities of their own) and other races like the sprites (another immortal race of monster slayers with a strong connection to nature); on the other you have the Occassi, a more demonic race in the artic. Here in particular the prose becomes indispensable, presenting two opposing races and their societies, constantly contrasting them with light/dark, life/death symbolism without falling into black and white thinking. From the matriarchal society lead by the Solarites, filled with more subtle (yet still dangerous) political power-plays, to the more patriarchal, militaristic Mortos; the luminosity and abundance of one setting and the more gothic, tenebrous and scarce environment of the other. As the lead travels from one to the other, we discover these differences with her.

This leads me to the next point: this book puts its money where its mouth is when it comes to a matriarchal society, filling it with outstanding female characters and showing us women in power across all fields: diplomats, scientists, soldiers, etc.

Laila, the protagonist, is the clear star. She’s delightful, curious, adventurous, with strong morals paired with a deep-seated insecurity. She’s also a political animal; charming, manipulative, with ambition that’s presented as a positive. Her optimism can be a sign of her youth and naivety, but born out of genuine compassion and want for progress. It all comes together into a lovely, complex lead character that I can’t wait to see grow and develop.

Someone else I found unusual and fascinating was Amira, Laila’s mother. She’s powerful and seemingly untouchable, exacting, and the opposite of nurturing. Her influence over Laila is never-ending, both as her maternal figure and as her monarch, influencing all aspects of her life and looming over all of her relationships.

Another one with key importance is Lyra, a sprite. She and Laila were past lovers, and in the present have a deep, sometimes difficult friendship that goes beyond most princess/lionheart dynamics. Lyra is irreverent, with a sturdy sense of justice that comes from sympathy for the underdog, and often the blunt warrior to Laila’s diplomat.

Others that, while less prominent, still tell us a lot about the world are the Odakan scientists (whose part foreshadows what might come in future installments), full of excitement and purpose to change and explore the world; or Dr. Mielette, with a small part, but that offers insight into Solarite culture. We see less of the women in Mortos, so far, but they serve their purpose. In Vasilisa, the Regina, you can see the precarious, risky position of a woman who is ostensibly at the highest one of her kind can come in a misogynistic society. The looming absence of Serafina, the king’s former lover, or of Katerina, another blood sorcerer, both women who sought power outside society’s confines, contrasts with her.

But Mortos’ most prominent representatives are the men in the Calantis family. Most significantly Darius, the male lead. He’s the king’s bastard and eldest son, resentful of his lesser position in court, and eager to retake the place he thinks he deserves. His more intellectual pursuits (he definitely incarnates the mad scientist archetype, a favourite of mine) haven’t always been of help among Occassi, who value brute force above all. He’s charming and sophisticated, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which can fool others, audience included, into not fearing his monstrous nature.

The other members of the family are Lanius, the tyrannical father and king opposing Laila’s diplomatic efforts, a poison in the family and the kingdom; and Dominus, the younger son and reluctant heir. Both brothers do take part in a love triangle with Laila, but it’s not your typical, never-ending F/M/M triangle; as someone who sometimes side-eyes such trope, I must say I appreciated how this one develops, with Laila’s differences in approach, in chemistry, and in the emotional risk she incurs in each relationship. Related to the love story, because I know this will be of interest: the book’s sex scenes are delightfully written, just as beautiful and descriptive as any other, steamy and evocative.

To finish off, I’ll say that this story was perfectly crafted to appeal to both my baser and higher interests. Its world and its characters have raised quickly in my list of favourites, it makes me think and wonder and speculate about what will come next, and it will stay with me for a long, long time. If you enjoy this book half as much as I did, I recommend checking out the author’s page for any other related stories or materials.

#i use a different moniker on those sites but #might as well post it on main where more people might *actually* see it lol #and where i've been hyping this book already :D #books #bookblr #indie authors #indie books #book review #book recommendations #the essence of the equinox

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mbti-notes · 2 years

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Anon wrote: Hello mbti-notes! I’ve typed as an INFJ for a long time, but recently I’ve been debating as to whether or not I’m actually an INFP. I tried to follow your instructions as best as I could - if you could provide any insight, I’d really appreciate it.

I’ll start off by saying that I’m 19, and I’m diagnosed with dysthymia and social anxiety disorder. My past therapists have also suggested that I’m dealing with unresolved trauma from childhood bullying. I would say that my function usage is probably quite immature and/or unhealthy, as I still have a very difficult time managing my symptoms. This isn’t something that I’m used to, so I apologise in advance if what I say doesn’t make sense.

INFJ:

Dominant Ni:

My inner world is essentially the lens I look through to view the world itself. The main thing I look for within my life is meaning and purpose. I want nothing more than to find what brings me peace, and provides clarity for my existence. I see my whole life as a search for meaning, regardless of how meaningless my general activities may look on the outside. Everything I do and observe has to fit into my personal narrative and worldview - because of this, I am naturally attuned to making connections, particularly between people and relationships.

I also search for patterns within fictional media, such as stories - this is my main method of discovering and thinking about philosophy and meaning. As I engage, I regularly ask myself “What’s the meaning behind all this? What is the story trying to tell us? What do these characters represent?” However, as I view everything through a highly abstract and subjective lens, my conclusions are difficult to put into words or manifest in reality.

My need for closure and structure is prominent within my life. Sometimes the thought of no closure brings me great anxiety - I will often spoil myself for shows or games because of this. I have an insatiable need to know how things will turn out. I am generally slow to react and need to focus on one thing at a time, leading to a lot of pre-planning, particularly if this involves outside engagement.

Inferior Se:

Due to the intricacies of my inner world, I feel a constant sense of detachment from reality itself. My metaphorical viewpoints stem from avoidance of the harsh concrete. This leads to inaction and constant ruminating, as I don’t feel capable of engaging fully. I struggle to remain fully present within my body, I never feel truly “whole”. Because of this, I sometimes hyper-focus on the sensory world in short bouts, even within my own home, and this leads to chronic discomfort. I have developed a deep fear of the outside world itself, often resisting engagement due to this fear. Because of my views on the concrete, I often narrow my lens to only see the negative consequences of whatever the world throws at us. I can’t see the outside world for what it is, only what it represents - danger.

When entering a grip, I lose touch with my mind and develop terrible brain fog, and thus, I lose my search for purpose. Due to my loss of direction, I overindulge in sensory pleasures, particularly eating and video games, in order to fill the “void”, only to feel even more empty afterwards. I can only focus on things in small bursts, however, this leads to my focusing heavily on minor details that I would typically gloss over. I do this to disprove my personal narrative, further fuelling my nihilistic mindset. If my narrative isn’t true, nothing is, and life itself is meaningless.

Auxiliary Fe:

Fe has played a pretty large part in my life. I try my hardest to make everyone around me feel comfortable in order to maintain peace and emotional harmony. I struggle to cope with negative emotions or a hostile atmosphere, wanting any issues to be resolved as soon as possible. This can sometimes lead to me unknowingly pushing boundaries, such as inserting myself into arguments that don’t involve me, in order to make this happen. I believe that this stems from a fear of conflict, as well as having to prepare myself to take on the emotional burdens of others as my own.

I have always been very attuned to the feelings of others, to the point where it affects me on a deep level - more than my own emotional turmoils. Sometimes I even convince myself that I can’t feel unless someone else’s circumstances force me to. It has reached an unhealthy point where I’ve lost grasp of my identity, seeing myself as just a vessel made to absorb the traits of those around me. I’m very sensitive to how I’m perceived by others, and I’m willing to adjust my behaviour to fit in - this is my main way of avoiding judgment or standing out.

There are times where I resist Fe - this usually comes in the form of compassion fatigue and detachment from strong emotions. I become increasingly fearful of intimacy, and avoid social interaction to compensate for both this and my fear of judgment. I also develop a tendency to assume the worst about people I’m not close to, paranoid that they are secretly judging or mocking me. I will go to great lengths to avoid meeting new people in order to protect myself from their judgment.

Tertiary Ti:

I believe I use Ti to fuel my Ni, regarding my search for meaning. I am able to add depth to my insights using analysis, particularly of other people, and am always looking to fine-tune my inner frameworks. This also helps me rationalise others’ feelings as I absorb them, which provides a lot of help with my problem solving skills, particularly emotional conflicts.

However, I believe my usage of Ti is unhealthy - it is the main reason my thought process tends to become messy. During a Ti loop, I have a huge tendency to overthink, especially when it comes to things that will happen in the future. I end up overanalysing every choice that I make, questioning the same things constantly to make sure that I’m on the right track. The thought of being wrong and having to change course terrifies me. This analysis paralysis leads to chronic procrastination with any plans I make, believing that I will never be competent enough to get where I need to be.

INFP:

Dominant Fi:

I have a somewhat solid idea of the type of person I don’t want to be. I live in a rough area, and am no stranger to hostile people and environments that I have never been able to keep up with. I’ve never been able to adjust to it, and because of this, I can be quite inwardly critical of people who display undignified behaviour. I’m definitely guilty of considering myself as a “misfit”. When it comes to feelings themselves, I do have a tendency to be sensitive to criticism from others and I sometimes take things personally - the thought that I’ve let someone down is very difficult for me to deal with. When I sense that I’m under ridicule, I struggle to function normally, although I try to hide these feelings in fear of bothering people.

Inferior Te:

Due to my aforementioned pessimistic worldview, I have fallen into somewhat of a victim mentality numerous times, believing that I can’t keep up with the outside world and that I’m too weak to function properly. Because of this, I struggle to get out of my head and take meaningful action to resolve any issues in my life - I begin questioning what the point is, I’ll never reach my ideals anyway.

Auxilary Ne:

The prospect of auxilary Ne is the main factor that makes me doubt being an INFJ. This is mostly due to my frequent fantasising and daydreaming - I create intricate fantasy worlds and characters in my head to escape the harshness of reality. The stories I create tend to focus on gaining love and success in fantastical life endeavours that I know have no place in reality. However, I also tend to display Ne resistance at times. I am very prone to pessimism and only focus on the negatives for my future because of this. I often worry about how the negative aspects of life, such as losing close family members, will impact my future as well as those around me. This causes me to lose a lot of hope, knowing that more emotional trauma is to come and it can completely throw the future off course.

Tertiary Si:

Regarding the Si loop, under stress, I sometimes find myself longing for nostalgia, trying to relive some of the only good parts of my childhood (such as watching old DVDs) and wanting them back. This is mostly a way of coping with all of the bad things and people I had to deal with, I tell myself that things weren’t all bad. I also tend to resign myself to my comfort zone - I become pessimistic about future possibilities and long for the lack of responsibility a child has.

-------------------

The INFJ stack fits quite perfectly, whereas evidence of the INFP stack is quite weak. You fantasize a lot, which only signifies N at best. I think what you haven't grasped is that you use fantasy to fulfill the unmet needs of Ni and Fe (not Fi and Ne). It sounds like you believe fantasy is all you've got. But in the end it isn't satisfying because it's not real, so Ni and Fe remain starved.

It's good that you're seeing a therapist and trying to work through your issues. Yes, it is indeed very hard to live in an environment that is unsupportive of you, your strengths, and your sensitivities. But that is the point of developing Fe. Fe frees you from passivity by granting you the power to have an influence, to change the environment, and to create a space for yourself to be productive. The problem is that Ni is stuck on only one way of seeing everything...

#typing #fantasizing #infj #ask

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bugsyfics · 3 years

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guidance — c. faustus

-> OCT. 4 : SENSORY DEPRIVATION

SUMMARY: not knowing where to begin to mend your broken relationship, you sought guidance from a connoisseur of carnal desire

WARNINGS: 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, manipulation, sensory deprivation (blindfold, ropes), cheating

WC: 880

kinktober masterlist 2021!!

You were writhing now, in an attempt to escape the bonds that held you to the bed. This wasn’t something that you explicitly agreed to, but you were in need of a favor; aid to make it up to your poor lover, and this was your payment.

Claude was no genie and he certainly didn’t grant you three wishes, but with some bargaining and a few tempting offers later, he struck a deal. It was one that seemed ironic, considering you sought out help because of your trouble with infidelity. Yet with much desperation, you accepted.

Footsteps padded across the floor and your head perked up at the noise.

“Please Claude, I can’t ta - can’t take this.” You twisted in the direction you thought he was standing beside the bed. “I promise you I’m ready, I’m willing.”

The mattress dipped at your side as he moved to straddle your frame. Crisp fabric from his dress pants grazed along your bare thighs, and you tensed at the feeling.

“Don’t waste my time, then I won’t waste yours.” Claude held a firm grip on your jaw, preventing you from squirming away from him. His cold fingers parted your drenched folds to feel if you were, in fact, ready for him to continue. He hummed and you assumed he nodded in tandem, pleased with what a bit of cool air can do to an exposed cunt. Once he nudged your clit, your back arched every which way to connect with his touch again, and this humored him.

“A lost little girl — naive even. You enjoy sinning because it feels right. Your husband must be devastated,” Claude said, piecing together your story. “…So you’ve come to me.”

He stood from the bed and began removing his clothes. You even picked up on the sound of his belt buckle clinking, and that caused butterflies to flutter in your belly.

“Yes, I believe you’re the only hope I have left.”

Despite knowing that Claude would be over you any second, you still called out for him. It was a hopeful attempt to draw him nearer.

“Of course I am, dear.” He climbed back onto the bed before silencing your insistent pleas with his mouth. His tongue moved freely with yours, even tickling you the tiniest bit until you were fully satiated and needing nothing more than his cock sheathed deep inside your drooling pussy.

A throaty growl escaped him and you could only assume he was stroking himself over you. His grunts were a reminder that you had to solely rely on his voice to guide you.

“How come you’ve blindfolded me?” you asked, puzzled by the action. You had made it obvious Claude was a man who you considered very handsome.

“I’ve been alive for centuries… I know better than you that attraction leads to lust, and lust to sin. It’s quite a simple concept, yet most mortals fall victim to that trap.”

He pinched your nipple and watched as it pebbled in his fingers.

“Anyone who’s familiar with the idea,” he continued after licking his lips, “is bound to get whatever they want out of whomever they please.”

Claude aligned his cock at your entrance and pushed into you using one swift motion. You gasped, clenching around him with each thrust, nearly bringing yourself to the edge.

You knew what he was, being one of the reasons you had gone to him in the first place, but the way he growled above you was so inhuman, you were left unsettled. Still, deprived of your vision, it was a reminder to relax some. A piece of cloth was the one thing preventing you from seeing his true form.

“Keep going faster, please,” you whimpered, forehead barely resting on his shoulder.

And he did, one snap of his hips after another until you were left incoherent, buzzing and grinning wildly.

Your mouth hung open as Claude pounded into you again, much sloppier than before, and he took the opportunity to invade your open mouth with two digits.

“Suck,” he urged you on.

You let out a muffled cry as you came, convulsing under his restraint and pulling at the web-like string that tied you to the headboard. Moments after, a sultry groan rumbled from Claude’s chest and his hips stuttered against yours as ropes his seed filled you.

He paused, catching his breath before leaning down.

“How was that for a lesson?” The way the air tickled your ear, you could tell he was stifling a laugh.

“How was that for your payment?” you teased back, deciding to give in to the humor.

He was silent, but you felt his hand brush across your cheek softly. Warm breath fanned across your flushed skin, close enough to your lips that you were almost touching.

“Oh no dear, I decided to not accept this… I have something else in mind, you see.”

Bright light washed out your vision as the blindfold was removed from your face, and before you could protest, two glowing eyes were staring back at you.

#not sfw #black butler claude #black butler scenarios #claude faustus x reader #black butler smut #black butler fanfiction #black butler fandom #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji claude #black butler x y/n #day one #kinktober 2021

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Dirty ABCs | Jungkook and Candy

Let’s celebrate birthday boy with early NSFW alphabet!!! LET’S GOOOOO

Pairing: Jungkook x reader/OC (Candy)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Genre: headcanons

Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.

Here’s my masterlist, enjoy!

Trigger warnings: switch!jk, switch!candy, swearing. Unprotected sex (penetrative and oral — REMEMBER TO USE PROTECTION AND GET CHECKED REGULARLY), double penetration, quickies, creampie, cockwarming, cum eating. Marking, biting, scratching. Masturbation, boobjobs. Mention of mommy kink. Public foreplay, semi-public sex, exhibitionism. Degradation, praise kink, dirty talking, edging, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms. Predator/Prey dynamics. Choking. Bondage. Toys (vibrators, cockrings, sex swing… 👀). Mild torture (?). Platonic spanks.

Beta read by my better half, @joheunsaram

Aftercare: Jungkook likes cuddles and pillow talk after sex. He’s very traditional about it. He enjoys how vulnerable he feels and how tender Candy is towards him. He really enjoys the softness of it all, and most importantly being babied. He wants tiddies and a nap. Candy is all about spoiling her boyfriend after he’s burnt out and satisfied. She loves how pliant and open he feels afterwards, how easy it is to connect with him and just let him vent about his worries.

Body part: Another tiddie man. He just loves how soft and relaxing it feels to rest his head on Candy’s breasts. He also loves her hair and how good it always smells. He lives to nuzzle into her neck and breathe her in. Candy loves Jungkook’s back. It’s the sexiest thing ever and she likes watching his back muscles flex when he’s fucking her. She also loves his waist, so dainty and feline. And of course his eyes. She could stare into his loving dark irises for hours. They’re so expressive.

Cum: Inside. Jungkook always wants inside. Her mouth is a close second, but if given the chance he wants to sink deep into her and bathe in the scent of her while sheathed in her warmth. It feels natural and romantic and loving. There’s no other place he would want to be other than inside her, all the time. Candy is okay with anything he wants. Watching his peaceful, serene expression after he’s fucked her hard and has found his orgasm inside her is ultimately one of the reasons why she loves having sex with Jungkook.

Dirty secret: Jungkook had been secretly nursing a mommy kink for a while. It did pop up once during one of his and Candy's little encounters, but it's not something he feels ready to face. He is so ashamed of it. Candy is really into Jungkook being her whiny, subby, precious good boy. She only wants to spoil him rotten all the time. However she can't stop thinking about all the girls out there willing to give up a lung to have a one night stand with him. Sometimes she just wishes she could dominate him in public. Tie him up, ride him raw till he's dry.

Experience: Jungkook has had only one partner, with whom the sex felt pretty awful. He didn't really think he was into it or could go that wild before he and Candy started sleeping together. Candy is fairly experienced. She has had three or four short term relationships. Maybe a couple flings.

Favourite position: Jungkook can't pick just one. Well, actually yes: missionary, but with Candy's legs pressed together and thrown over his shoulder but also spread apart, her knees pressed to her shoulders. Candy really likes it when he picks her up and fucks her against the wall, or when he gets really creative. That usually entails lots of laughing and joking and communicating.

Goofy: maybe. It depends. If they're making love, then I do see Jungkook getting emotional and Candy brightening the mood with cute jokes and compliments. They do tend to be goofy when they're together, but usually not during sex. It's either a very emotionally raw moment or vicious fucking.

Hair: Jungkook shaves. He's a neat freak and shaves. He does so religiously. Candy is not that consistent, sometimes she shaves, sometimes she trims. Depends on the mood.

Intimacy: it's very demure but it's there. You wouldn't notice it because the moment Jungkook enters beast mode, it's pretty much degradation and overstimulation all over the place. But it's there too! It's in the mere fact that he trusts her enough to forget how to be civil and decent and just unleashes himself all over her. For the first ten times or so it's shy and attempted, he tiptoes around the very edge of control, but once she tells him she loves him, he goes all out and never stops. He explores and pleases. That's his nature. Candy is the one that grants intimacy the most. He knows he can go wild because she's his anchor, keeping things loving and gentle and tender even through the storm. Now, once Jungkook subs though… intimacy galore. Little touches and small kisses and endless tight hugs. Her first goal is to make him feel safe. And that happens through intimacy.

Jack off: These two? Really? No, you didn't understand. If Jungkook has even a remote chance of cumming inside her, there's no way he's masturbating. He will 300% ignore his instincts until he can have her. And it's pretty difficult for Candy not to be in the mood — or not to get into the mood, if need be. She's also not one for masturbating. She does it only when he's not available, be it because he's abroad or he's too busy. But he's always her first choice. Generally speaking it might happen that he's not in the mood and she decides to take a quick shower and deal with it herself, but usually he's joining her after a couple minutes, his mind changed, a bunny smile on his face as he winks and hops in.

Kink: First and foremost, cockwarming. Creampies shortly after. Candy has a thing for marking him, especially scratches down his muscular upper back. Their kinks depend on who's domming: if it's Jungkook, there's plenty of degradation and high chances of predator/prey dynamics. He gets very horny if Candy plays hard to catch, and he discovers it accidentally, after Candy stole the last serving of his favourite snack. Useless to say, the snack was forgotten and they fucked on the floor. Candy likes choking (receiving) and pretty much anything Jungkook is willing to try. She can't wait to try double penetration with him, she's just waiting for him to open up about the topic. When domming, she's into sensory deprivation, bondage, praise kink and edging, especially when boobjobs are involved, since JK is particularly sensitive about the topic. As long as she has him whining and begging below her, she's ready to try anything.

Location: Well, the bedroom is the place of choice for most occasions. Not always though. The shower is a strong opponent. If they do get naughty outside of their home, it's usually in quite private places too. Hotel rooms. Club or restaurant bathrooms. Foreplay in the lift and on the dance floor — mostly Candy rubbing herself all over Jungkook. Well, they did get nasty in a cave once, but that's another story.

Motivation: as I said, playing catch with Jungkook is always a good way to get him in the mood. He's extremely weak for breasts, so anything regarding those is a hot topic too. Candy often wears loose/low neck shirts and leans over, offering him a glimpse of her lack of bra. Low neckline and no bra usually means "please, fuck me across the living room, thank you" in Candy language. While for Candy, watching Jungkook work out or just get sweaty and flirty is a total panty snatcher. You'll find her bent over, ass up, ready for the take.

No: Jungkook doesn't like receiving degradation. Memories of his ex make him uncomfortable with that. Other than that, he strongly opposes to anything that involves hardcore domination. He can be a dom, but he's extremely sensitive about what he does and some acts are a bit too aggressive for his opinion. Candy hadn't tried anything unconventional before Jungkook, and so far all her past no's have turned into hard yes with Jungkook. She's still exploring her limits.

Oral: Jungkook? Hell yes. He likes receiving but he by far prefers giving, especially when Candy is domming or directing him. He could do that for hours, and his love for the act almost rivals that of our local kitty cat Yoongi. His true joy is being rewarded going for multiples with his head between Candy's thighs. Especially if he's cum inside her. Not too fast though, he needs some cockwarming first. Candy is a true fan of giving head. She especially likes doing so when Jungkook is in a subby and bratty mood. Listening to him getting vocal about his appreciation is always the greatest compliment to her, and also an excellent way to discipline him when he gets cocky.

Pace: Fast. Hard. That's all there is. If he's setting the pace, it's outright demonic, hitting at least 74bpm (it's Kiwi by Harry Styles in halftime). Yes, he can go slower, usually when he's in lover boy mode or even better, when he's trying to show Candy who's the boss. Slow, lazy rolls of his hips reaching unknown depths. If Candy's on top/domming it's all about it being intimate, calm, relaxing even. She wants Jungkook to explore a sensuality he is too rushed and forceful for. Through her slow and steady approach she helps him embrace a more feminine and spiritual sexuality that borders on the psychological and tantric.

Quickie: yes. Hard yes. He is the best with quickies. Just get it over with so they're both relieved and they can chat about their day while he's still inside her. There's not much to say. Just yes.

Risk: they prefer avoiding it, however they're young and experimenting, therefore they do sometimes get a bit past the safety line. The biggest risk for them is doing anything where they could be spotted, therefore they're really subtle and overall not too explicit about anything happening in a semi-public context. Except, that one time while they were on holiday, of course. And that other time in which Candy almost jerked him off in a restaurant before blowing him in his car.

Stamina: Insane. Jungkook's stamina is more about endurance rather than control. He can make Candy cum five or six times while he cums twice and is more than glad. He can go for two consecutive rounds without breaking a sweat. For himself he's usually more than happy with a round of foreplay and one of fucking, but if he's determined enough, he can last one more. He usually doesn't push himself that far though, he does when he's been deprived for long enough.

Toy: Although toys aren't usually a part of their sex life, they do use them every now and then. Vibrators, vibrating cockrings, oh! And their sex swing, of course. That's what they use the most, yes.

Unfair: If Jungkook is in hard dom mode, he is very unfair, plenty of teasing and taunting matched with mockery and degradation. He can keep Candy on her toes for a full hour, giving her small reprieve every here and there. Candy is also equally torturous: if she's domming, she's not done edging him until he's whining, sobbing, begging and possibly crying.

Volume: Normally, Candy is very quiet however, Jungkook always goes the extra mile to make her moan and whine, especially if he's eating her out. Jungkook can be especially eloquent with his sounds: grunting and groaning are typically for his dommier side, while whining and whimpering are usually for his subby one. Moaning is all over the place. Consider also a good amount of murmuring and mumbling some dirty talking. Not too much though.

Wild card: Jungkook likes his hair being combed during aftercare. Candy always relaxes while he speaks loving words to make up for the degradation and mockery. She could fall asleep while combing his hair, she's just that tired and comfortable. Also! When he installed the sex swing in their room, he decided it was a good idea to have permanent hooks on the ceiling, mask them with fake plants. Crackhead.

X-Ray: Jungkook has a nice cock. Not too long, not too thick but it has an upward curve that makes stuff interesting. He's probably around six or seven inches. Candy has objectively nice breasts, full, round, truly well structured. And she has a nice ass too, Jungkook likes squeezing it when she throws her leg on top of him during cuddles. He also spanks it a few tens of times a day — not in the sexual way tho, but more in that encouragement/comradery way he has learnt with the guys.

Yearning: Jungkook can go without sex for a long time. I'm talking about a month and more. It's not a priority for him, except right after he and Candy sleep together for the first time, when he needed to get rid of the high. With him, everything is very inconsistent: one week you're having sex every day, and the following one, he's just all about the cuddles and fluff. Candy is up for anything, however she prefers having sex at least once or twice a week. Both feel safe to initiate without fearing being denied. For them, arousal is very easily built through playing and bantering.

Zzz: both take a while to fall asleep after sex. Plenty of time for pillow talking and cleaning up, though they prefer doing so very pragmatically. Any time spent apart during aftercare is a waste to both of them: they just want to talk things out, relax, bask in each other's warm presence.

#Jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook smut #Jungkook fluff #jungkook headcanons #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 3 years

Text

My Hero

Clark Kent x reader

Warnings: Smut

Disclaimer: There is unprotected sex in this story, so remember a condom a day keeps them babies away!

*divider by @writeyourmindaway*

Word Count: 2,302

********

You were pushing your cart through the grocery store and scanning the many items you knew that you didn't need.

"This is why we never shop on an empty stomach," you said to yourself.

When you reached the end of the aisle your cart hit a man's legs.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?"

"It's okay, I'm fine," a small laugh escaped his lips. "Y/N?"

You finally looked up at him, "Yes?"

"Wow, I thought that was your voice that I'd heard."

"My voice?" You asked, confused.

Blue eyes, wide grin, deep dimple in his chin.

"Clark?" Your eyes were wide with realization.

"It's me," he said.

"No way, look at you," you scanned him from head to toe. "You've come a long way from the scrawny kid who I used to walk home with from school."

You threw your arms around his neck for a hug and quickly pulled away. You would swear that you could feel every muscle in his rock hard body.

"So, uh, when did you get back in town?" He asked.

"Few days ago. My dad retired and moved to California. He's left getting rid of the house, to me of course."

"I'm surprised he left. He loved that house."

"Yeah, well, he says he needed a change since my mom passed away, but I think this Superman guy just freaks him out a little bit," you shrugged.

"Understandable," he replied.

"Well, um, how about you come over for dinner tonight, so we can really catch up?" You suggested.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose."

"Why not? You got big plans for those TV dinners?"

He looked down at the four Hungry Man meals he was holding.

"That's what I thought. I'll see you at 8pm, Kent." You pushed your cart forward to the checkout line.

He watched as you walked away. Willing himself not to use his x-ray vision to look through your clothes.

Clark showered quickly when he got home. He looked through his closet and cursed himself. How many flannel shirts does one man need? He settled on a blue and gray shirt and pulled it on.

"Where are you going?" Martha questioned him.

"Uh, you'll never guess who I ran into today. You remember Y/N?" He asked his mother.

"Of course, I do. How could I ever forget the sweet girl who walked my baby home everyday to save him from bullies?" She patted his cheek and laughed.

"Funny," he mocked her. "She invited me over for dinner tonight, so I needed to change."

"Oh, well, that's good. You haven't been out since, um... ever."

"Ma, it's really just old friends catching up. It's not a date."

At least, that's what he'd said out loud, but his racing heart was telling a different story. Martha raised an eyebrow and turned to leave. She didn't need enhanced senses to know her son was telling a lie.

Clark thought back to the day the two of you had become friends. He was a grade ahead of you, so you never really spoke until...

You trailed behind the crowd a bit, as always, with your black Cane Corso, Tiny in tow. He was massive, so his name definitely didn't match, but when he was just a puppy, he was so tiny that you carried him zipped up in your hoodie wherever you went.

Every day, Tiny would come to the school and sit with the parents waiting to pick up their kids. Even though he was huge, he was a sweetie and everyone loved him, so no one ever complained about him running around alone.

When the group ahead of you reached the junkyard. You heard Jessie, the school bully, telling Clark to get out of the truck. Once you reached the yard, you saw Jessie throw Clark to the ground and raise his fist as if he was gonna hit him.

"Come on, fight back! Get up, Kent!" He yelled at him.

"Why don't you leave him alone, Jessie? He doesn't want to fight." You said from behind them.

They all turned to look at you.

"Hey, stay out of it and mind your business!" He pointed at you.

"Make me," you said.

Tiny growled and crouched low to the ground when Jessie took a step towards you. You stayed in your spot as he slowly walked towards the other kids and came to a stop right in front of Clark.

The group backed away slowly with their hands lifted in surrender.

"I don't want to see any of you bothering him again, got it?" You asked.

"Y-y-y-yeah. Yeah, I got it. Just call him off."

"It's okay, Tiny, let them go," you walked closer to your dog.

He was almost as tall as you were sitting on his haunches.

You made a hand motion for them to go and they all practically ran away. You turned to help Clark off the ground and brushed some dirt off of him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said softly.

Mr. Kent made his way over to the two of you. Tiny wagged happily and waited for a few pets from the older man. He ran off plenty of times to the Kent's farm to play with their dog Hank. Plus, he and your father had known one another since childhood.

"I'm not sure how you resisted the urge to break his face, but good for you," you said before waving at Mr. Kent and telling Tiny to come along.

From that day forward, you and Clark had been inseparable. He'd walk you home and then head to the farm.

You'd developed a crush on him as the years went by, but never spoke up about it, because you learned very early that nothing was worse than losing your best friend over a failed relationship.

Besides, once he graduated, he took oddest jobs doing manual labor. It caused him to be gone for months at a time and you knew that wasn't a life you wanted, so after you graduated, you went out of state to college in Metropolis and got a job there.

Clark clutched the bottle of wine in his hand as he knocked on the door. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous. He'd been to this house dozens of times.

"Hey," you greeted him when you opened the door.

"I brought wine," he held up the bottle.

"Thanks, the food is almost ready, so have a seat and I'll be right back." You hurried off.

Once the two of you sat down for dinner you laughed and talked as if you had never parted ways. He was still the same old goofy Clark Kent that you remembered.

You were now on the couch with your legs comfortably tucked behind you and staring into his eyes.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"Nothing, it's just been so long since I've seen that smile. I'm enjoying it."

His face turned red as he blushed at your compliment.

"I do have a question. Something that's been bugging me all day," you scooted closer.

"What's wrong?"

"You never wore glasses when we were growing up. In fact, you could see so far down the road that I thought you placed things just to be funny."

"What? No, I... um, I had an accident on a job site. There was fire and I was a little close. Messed with my eyesight a little...bit." He stammered over his words.

"You always were such a terrible liar, but I'll let it slide, because you're cute." You sipped from your glass.

"You think I'm cute?" He asked, shocked.

"Yes, I always have," you admitted.

"Really? Why haven't you ever told me that?"

"Oh, please, Clark, like you didn't know that I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids," you rolled your eyes.

"No... Well, I — uh... didn't know for sure."

"Mmm hmm," you straddled his lap. "I know you can hear the way my heart beats faster any time I'm near you." You grabbed his hand and pressed it to your chest.

He shifted beneath you. No doubt trying to will himself not to get an erection.

You swivel your hips ever so slightly. To a normal man, that would have been nothing. But to Clark, it was damn near a sensory overload.

He threw his head back and clamped his eyes shut.

"I know that you know how wet I am for you right now," you lifted your dress and dipped your fingers inside of your panties, swirling your wetness around with your fingers.

He was no longer able to contain his erection.

"Look at me," you said.

He opened his eyes and looked at you. You brushed one of your slick coated fingers over his lips before kissing him softly.

"What are you doing?" He was finally able to ask.

"Whatever I want," you said and slid his glasses off of his face.

He looked nervous. You may recognize him without his glasses, so he quickly kissed you.

You trailed soft kisses from his neck to his ear. Biting the lobe once you reached it.

The soft sigh that he released turned you on even more as you grinded into him again.

He shifted his position, so he could lie you flat on your back.

"Can I taste you?" He asks.

He didn't wait for you to reply. He pulled your already soaked panties to the side and licked at your center.

"Ssss, ooh," you hissed.

You threaded your fingers into his hair and grabbed on to those jet black curls. Rocking your hips slowly as he alternated between licking your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

First you felt one finger slide inside of you and shortly after another followed.

"Yes, baby, don't stop," you moaned.

Clark watched your face as he pleasured you. The way you bit your bottom lip and gripped his hair forced him to buck against the couch cushions for a bit of relief.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm neared, but felt your body being lifted and turned. Before you could grasp what was happening, Clark was now on his back and you were riding his face.

You grabbed on to the arm of the couch and placed one foot on the floor and the other by his head.

"Stick your tongue out," you instructed.

When he stuck his tongue out, you lined it up with your needy cavern and let him fuck you with it. You used your other hand to rub your clit and once again your orgasm was nearing.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" You chanted as the familiar feeling washed over your body.

Once again, he readjusted you as if you weighed nothing, bringing you face to face with him. You kissed him again. Moaning into his mouth as your tongues connected.

"Fuck me, Clark, please?" You asked as you unbuttoned his pants and wrapped your hand around his thick throbbing shaft.

He groaned loudly as you stroked him. When you were about to lower yourself onto him he stopped you.

"Wait, I," he cleared his throat, "I've never actually, um, gone all the way..." He admitted.

"I find that very hard to believe with the way you just ate my pussy."

"I learned from... ya know..."

"Good," you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Making sure to keep eye contact as he stretched you wide. "I'm sure you learned how this goes too."

He held on to your hips as you bounced up and down on him. Then he grabbed up the fabric of your dress and ripped it. Kissing the newly exposed globes of your breasts.

He turned you on your back. Lifting your leg high and pushing himself deep into your pussy. Giving you everything that he had.

He tucked his face into your neck as he fucked you.

"Yeah, that's it. Give me that dick, baby," you whispered.

"You feel so good," he groaned.

The closer he got to ecstasy, the more vocal he became.

"Shit!"

"It's okay baby. Give me all that cum. Can I have it?" You asked sweetly.

"Yes!"

"Mmm, yesssss," you clawed at his back as you started cumming. Your pussy tightening around him.

His body started to spasm as he released his load inside of you.

You held on tight until he stopped moving and you loosened your grip. It was only then that you noticed that you were floating in mid air.

"Clark!" You yelped and grabbed onto him again.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I've got you," he slowly lowered your bodies back down to the sofa.

He pulled out slowly and laid his head in between your breasts taking in the moment. You twirled one of his curls around your finger.

You felt his body suddenly start shaking from laughter.

"What's so funny, Kent?" You asked.

"You just had sex with the kid that you used to protect from bullies. You were my hero,” he said.

"No, I just had sex with the grown man that saves planets."

"So, how long have you known?" He questioned.

"Since the moment I first saw you on TV," you replied.

"Hmm."

"Yeah, and if I hadn't already known, you recognizing my voice from the other aisle when I clearly whispered to myself would've been a dead giveaway."

"Not to mention the whole flying thing just now," he added.

"Exactly," you giggled.

You finally got up before ruining the couch and grabbed his hand to lead him to the bathroom. He looked a little confused at first.

"Surely, you have at least one more round in you, Superman?" You teased.

"I've got as many rounds as you can take," he lifted you and walked up the stairs to the bathroom.

#Clark Kent x reader #Superman x reader #Smut #dc #Clark Kent #Superman #dc smut

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

Text

Finding my Si: a submission

I’d like to share 6 things that helped me discover my Si and how Charity’s advice helped me, in case it helps anyone else :)

1.It helps when friends and family tell you what they think your dominant function is. Like a fish not realizing the water is wet, it’s so normal that it’s invisible to you. My mum picked Si the minute I asked her which function described me best; she said, ‘You trust your personal experiences and refer back to them all the time; it’s like an anchor for you. You rely on the past to get you through the present.’ One by one, my friends picked the same, pointing to how I recollect everything from the date we first met to changes in their food preferences to the color of the shirt they wore one Monday morning. I never realized the enormity of the storehouse of detail in my head until they pointed out that not everyone treasures memory-keeping in the same way. I wouldn’t say Si memory is photographic; for me, it’s more like a fisherman’s net, where I gather in what matters to me. I see a living mosaic of past and present when I look at people and places I love.

2. Being willing to question my own assumptions. An unflinching look at what I actually do, not what I think I do.

I considered Ni when I thought of goals I’ve set. For example, I got into the same UK university at 18 that I’d loved at age 14. This story initially sounded as though I’d had a clear future vision, and never let go of the dream (Ni). However, I’d left out winding twists and turns in between. At 16, I was captivated by a Canadian university and considered going there for a while; at 17, I considered studying in New York. Eventually, I applied to a bunch of unis and got an offer from the original ‘dream one’ in England. It was the best offer and I’d remained fond of it, so I wound up going. I was pleased, but I’d been open to other unis and happy to go to them too. After reading the perspective of actual Ni-users on their laser-sharp vision, I realized mine wasn’t as unwavering, intense and single-minded.

Instead, I realized that the reason I treasure this story - 'I visited my uni when I was just a kid and then got to go there for good!’ - is that I liked being able to link my childhood self and adult self. I enjoy connecting the past and present and spotting continuity and change ('Back then, I did this…now I still do this…and I don’t do this….’). My mind always traces back to how things were, which spills over into dinner-table family conversations ('Do you remember when…?’/'You know how we used to…?’). I realized that this type of personal mythologizing and cherishing a living past is Si. I can set goals and work meticulously in a step-by-step IFJ way, but it is not a dominant personality trait in the strikingly single-minded, futuristic, visionary way that is Ni. For anyone considering Ni, I recommend looking up mbti-notes and Charity’s explanations here, as it is a very complex function and it helps to understand exactly how it works.

3. Painful honesty. Confronting flaws isn’t fun. However, as Charity says, it helps to think of pairs (Si-Ne, Ne-Si or Ni-Se) rather than functions in isolation.

I tried to determine which flaw I could most relate to: inferior Te, inferior Se, or inferior Ne.

I couldn’t identify with inferior Te because I’ve always been a careful planner and organizer; even my third-grade report cards said, ‘She loves being efficient and organizing her little space!’ Today, I have multiple administrative responsibilities at work and genuinely enjoy it. There’s something about streamlining systems and attending to details that feels satisfying (dorky, I know). I could not relate to inferior Se either, as sensory engagement has always been a big part of my life. Whether it’s dancing or nature hikes or cooking, hands-on hobbies have always been so core to me that I often find myself feeling one with the natural environment, rather than uncomfortable with it. I haven’t had reckless moments characteristic of inferior Se. But inferior Ne - those descriptions embarrassed me.

As Charity says, if something makes you go ‘ouch’, it might hit the nail on the head.

I thought I had good Ne because I can see multiple perspectives. But this is more a 9 and 2 influence ('Staying open-minded helps to understand people, help them, and resolve conflict’) and a skill honed through my job in peace-building. What trips me up are the problems plaguing inferior Ne users. Newness and novelty feels hard. My 9 probably plays into it, but in general I am not good at out of the box thinking and brainstorming dozens of different approaches. Despite my 2-9 positive outlook, I usually feel fearful of the unknown and find it difficult to speculate or imagine possibilities in the uncertain future.

4. It helps to see where your attention goes. When I teach and review students’ essays, I’ll start leaving comments about their word-choice in paragraph 3; the evidence they used on page 2; how their argument on page 12 risks contradicting their logic on page 10, etc. I can hold these details in my head with ease, suggest a clear structure, and spot incongruities, but I have to consciously remind myself to zoom out to comment on the overarching ideas in the work.

On the other hand, I notice when I do something creative or abstract because it’s not really what I do on a day to day basis. When I first began researching MBTI, I found it easy to recall the last metaphor I imagined because it stood out in my mind. But determining frequency helped. Not just how I think, but how often I think that way. Ne is a ‘play’ function for me - on good days, it’s a whimsical scribble in a poetry journal, occasional daydreams, self-improvement books on my shelf.

5. Being able to tease out finer differences in cognition. I got interested in a Royal Family controversy recently. I thought I was using Ni because I mused on the consequences for the nation (in a Ni-Fe way). However, I realized I was less interested in future possibility and more interested in what was helpful for interpersonal understanding (Fe/2-9) and how the country could preserve the traditions and culture built up over centuries (Si). Rather than preferring to look ahead and predict what would happen (Ni). It’s a fine line, but it helped to think: how often is my cognition located in the future vs the past? Which one feels more natural? Is it an Enneagram or an MBTI influence at play?

6. Avoiding sensor bias. I felt I must be an intuitive because I do engage in abstract conversation sometimes. It’s just that my topics of choice come from my Enneagram 269 tritype. How can schools treat children better? What can we do to promote community mental health? What keeps kids safer? My job is centered around people’s welfare, and I’d be happy to discuss theories of human psychology or relationships or mental health because I’m very absorbed in my little niche of knowledge. However, concrete applications interest me most, and I am not likely to start conversations about, say, 18th century theology or automated cars or space travel. My INFP and INFJ friends seem interested in a much wider range of philosophical conversation.

I agree with a post on this blog that pointed out that modern psychology now understands traits not as bimodal distributions (X or Y) but along a spectrum (how much of X? How much of Y?). People differ in where they lie along the spectrum. I’d say I’m close to the middle. My biggest tell that I lean towards sensing is when I look through philosophy books on human well being. Even though the topic reflects my interests, I’m quickly bored by too much theory. I’m happy to thrash out an idea with a friend, but it needs to be animated by real-life examples and practical applications for me to stay interested.

Above all, I recommend observing where your heart leads. Much of my free time goes into journal-writing, old albums, and time capsules. Detail-driven memory-keeping fulfills me deeply, and it was this deep joy that proved most helpful for recognizing my Si :)

#submission #isfj #istj

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spockandawe · 3 years

Note

Hi....If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite MXTX characters (top 5 from each novel)? And why? I'm sorry if you've answered this question before.

It’s absolutely no problem at all!! I don’t think I’ve been asked this before, but hey, I also have zero object permanence, so it keeps things fresh and new. And it’s interesting to see how my answers change over time! Lemme see, I think I’m going to go in reverse order, because I feel like then I’ll be doing the worst agonizing up front.

TGCF

Fifth favorite: YIN. YU. I know that he’s a minor character and him even making it onto the list is pretty solid performance, but I do feel guilty that he isn’t higher than this. He came out of nowhere in my first reading and punched me in the stomach with emotions. I find his sections so hard to read, and I was DEVASTATED when he died and BEYOND stoked to find out he was still alive in the extras. His story hurts so much! I am weak against characters who have relatively modest goals and still see them snatched away (see also: my next entry) and have to struggle on. I wish wish wish I had a way to see more of how he made his peace with things after being thrown out of heaven, and the nature of the (distant) relationship with Hua Cheng and what happens with Quan Yizhen now that he died in his arms, and still came back anyways, my god!

Fourth favorite: He Xuannnnnn. I have a hard time articulating particulars, but. I love him a lot. I love a character with a grudge, with a deep, painful grudge, where the grudge is hurting him almost as much as it’s hurting the people around him, and setting the grudge aside would also hurt, and then what has any of this been for-- I've used this metaphor for other characters, but I don’t care if I’m overusing it, because I love it. He feels like a character caught in a thorn bush, where simply being there... hurts, but trying to escape or move in any ways is going to hurt worse, and there’s no path forward that doesn’t involve pain. And like... I don’t love the way he hurt Shi Qingxuan (who didn’t quite make this list adfasgdafsd I’M SORRY) but I wouldn’t have liked to see him swallow back down all that pain and set aside everything that happened to his family and fiancee either! I’m always, always soft for characters who have no good path forward and who grit their teeth and set out anyways.

Third favorite: MU QING!!!!!!!!!! I have done... extensive screaming about him. And I love him veryvery much. I can already tell that this list is going to have a lot of mean boys on it, and like... no regrets. Especially since this is one of my FAVORITE flavors, an unapologetic mean boy who is rarely (but sometimes!) soft for the people around him, and who regularly tries to do decently by people, but who consistently gets shat upon and misunderstood and accused of acting in bad faith. I screamed when he and Xie Lian finally got to talk their friendship out in the book. I also screamed when I realized how immediately after Xie Lian’s return he started looking out for him again, and how sincerely, despite his horrible attitude about it. I still want to write more fic for him so badly. I love him so much.

Second favorite: Xie Lian! What a good boy! The best boy! He’s so sweet and gentle, but also the best fightboy this world has ever seen, and also so gently snarky with the people he loves! I just... really love me some traumatized characters who have trouble recognizing that they can be Loved, and I’m not going to write this whole essay right now, but I think in some ways, he’s the most... passive about his romance, out of all the leads? Shen Qingqiu is aggressively oblivious, but Xie Lian kind of gently shrugs off the idea that he might be Hua Cheng’s special someone, until he finally gets hit with the cluestick. I generally shy away from the idea of a character “earning” love, but he’s maybe the mxtx character who moves me most with ‘you deserve to be loved’

Most favorite: Hua Cheng. HUA CHENG. Oh my god, gotta love this boy. Gotta love this devotion. I love a mean boy who is soft for one person, and he EMBODIES it. I mean, I love Shen Jiu, but he barely manages to do the soft thing at all, while Hua Cheng is over here like ‘if I could only be the stone beneath your feet--’ It’s hard to talk about him separately from Xie Lian, because they’re a unit in my head more than just about any other characters on this list are. I don’t want to get this list to get out of control, so I’m not going to scream for too long, but... I could just watch him go forever. I want to write him forever, and that’s a huge aspect of what draws me to some characters.

MDZS

Oh god, I think I lied, I think this book is going to be hardest. Making these choices is AGONIZING.

Fifth favorite: .....Lan Wangji. Oh god, I feel bad about how low he is. But this story is just packed SO full of wonderful characters, and I’m already consumed with guilt over all the characters who aren’t going to make it. I don’t love them less! But my love for characters in this particular story is very evenly distributed. And I think that Wang Yibo’s acting is possibly scoring points with me that the book might not have earned all by itself. Microexpressions and subtle body language add SO MUCH to a character with such flat affect, and I would be drawn to such a closed-off character anyways, but it really helps. And I love, like... the combined subtlety and intensity of his relationships. It’s not that subtle once you know what to look for, and the brother/sworn brother network makes for varying degrees of how much other characters understand of the things he chooses not to explicitly express, and it gives a really interesting character to the way he interacts with the people around him. Also, love me a man with intense separation anxiety.

Fourth favorite: Jiang Yanli? I think it has to be Jiang Yanli, but these rankings are hard. So. I just talked about how much I enjoy the flat affect and closed off nature of Lan Wangji? Well, guess what, I also love it when m’girl is just very GENUINELY AND OPENLY an absolute sweetheart of a person, and I love the contrast between her genuinely kind nature and the uncomfortable pressure that her family’s dynamics put on her to start parenting at a very young age. It’s not necessarily a happy situation, but she adores her brothers so much and they adore her so much! And it’s... a very understated element of the story, but after her parents died, her baby brothers went off to war, and one wreaked havoc as a straightforward commander and one of them disappeared for months and returned as a creepy-ass zombie puppeteer. And she STILL dotes on them like before, despite knowing what they’re capable of. Like, yes, Wei Wuxian just raised an army of corpses and forced a man to eat himself, but I shall still boop him on the nose and feed him Soup. How can I not adore energy like that?

Third favorite: Wei Wuxian, I think. I do adore him a lot. He gives me some of the same vibes that make me ache most with Xie Lian, where he is trying his best, and is struggling to hold on in the face of lots of suffering, and I find it really interesting that when the suffering peaked, Xie Lian was forced go on because he couldn’t die, while Wei Wuxian... expired. That line about ‘he thought that no matter how large the world was, there was still no place for him’ always sticks with me, and hurts me deeply. Xie Lian had most of his personal attachments stripped away, and was left to wander on his own, while Wei Wuxian still had a number of strong connections left, but abruptly exited life. And that informs their respective trauma so interestingly! The way Wei Wuxian bounces between high energy chaos and drained exhaustion is really fascinating to me, and was the thread that held me attached to the book through a very confusing beginning. And I’m still very drawn to how intensely he loves, whether it’s Xiao Zhan’s fantastic acting, or it’s him busting out with how much he wants Lan Wangji in the middle of the Guanyin Temple scene. He’s a fantastic character, honestly, I don’t think such a convoluted book would have held together very well without a protagonist this strong.

Second favorite: Xue Yang :X Look, he’s a good boy and I love him. Who among us hasn’t done a few mass murders that we are completely unrepentant about, but that we would really like to keep hidden from our current boyfriend, actually? Anyways, as always, love me an angry boy who makes terrible decisions for understandable reasons. And I do love a character who is consumed by agonized ragrets (see my next entry), but I DO also love me a character who has no regrets at all and doesn’t even have much interest in trying to justify himself to anyone else around him. Just look at that confidence! Look at him go!!

Most favorite: Jiang... Cheng....... I knew he and Xue Yang were going to be at the top, but those were the only parts of this list that were easy. I mean. Love a self-sabotaging angryboy who is also super super sad and keeps hurting himself in his own confusion. And while I love the romantic thread in all of the mxtx books, the agonized family thread in mdzs is one of my favorite parts, and something that I don’t really see echoed in any of the other stories. I need ten million jc+wwx reconciliations, at LEAST. He’s so sad! And so angry! And I want to see him becoming less of that thing, and for Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian to demonstrate very firmly how much they love him, because they do. I am invested in his happiness in a way that goes far and beyond any of the other non-main characters, haha

SVSSS

Fifth favorite: Tianlang-jun. I think? Oh god, but moshang. THIS IS REALLY HARD, I HATE THIS ;-; But especially since writing my fic, Tianlang-jun has really won me over. And like, he already hurt me good in the novel, just thinking about how he was an innocent young guy, just! Trying to have a girlfriend! And instead got trapped in sensory deprivation, body-rotting-hell for twenty years, when he didn’t do anything wrong!!! He suffered, so much! And I live for his intensely strained relationship with Luo Binghe, because it’s! Perfectly understandable and painful, from both of their perspectives! And he wants to hate humans so badly, but in the end, when he’s told that Su Xiyan never betrayed him, he starts helplessly asking the people around him, ‘really? is it really true?’ and then in the end he loses the only family member he has left who cares about him, and it’s just! Everything is terrible! I have a su xiyan au brewing in my head because I can’t stand it! Someone just give this man a loving partner!!!

Fourth favorite: Shen Qingqiu. But... moshang??? Goddammit. Anyways, this dumbass. I find him so endearing, in his dumbassery. I sometimes get a bit frustrated with Wei Wuxian for being oblivious, and Shen Qingqiu is just asking for me to react the same way, but I... don’t, for the most part? Because he thinks he has good information, and he’s slow to react to a changing playing field, and I still haven’t read another transmigration novel that strikes the same balance of hypercompetence and intense incompetence :ppp It’s a funny book, and he’s a funny character! And I really vibe with him, in most parts of the story, which covers a pretty darn wide emotional spectrum. Plus, the running internal commentary is choice.

Third favorite: Liu Qingge. Look, I’m a woman of simple needs, and sometimes I just need a high-quality fightboy who clearly cares deeply and is absolute garbage at expressing his emotions. I can’t articulate it much better than that. I absolutely howl at the succubus extra, when Shen Qingqiu is talking to Madam Meiyin about his future partner, and Liu Qingge is like ‘oh my god, sHE IS CLEARLY DESCRIBING ME’ and Shen Qingqiu is like ‘haha, liu-shidi, i thought you thought this was stuupidddddddd’. They’re both so dumb. I love them so much. But stupidity plus war god fighting energy has a narrow lead over stupidity and internal commentary track.

Second favorite: SHEN JIU. GOD. I’m still arguing with myself over whether he should go first, but Luo Binghe hurts me consistently through the whole entire story, so I think he wins. Shen Jiu just stabs me in the heart at strategic moments. This is it. My ideal mean boy who is soft for one (1) person, and who BOTH does unconscionable things for terrible reasons (someone just. give him a pile of girls to teach, it will be much more pleasant for everyone involved), and who ALSO gets blamed for things he didn’t do even when he tries to act in good faith. It is the best of all painful worlds. And even at the end, when he has a powerful person who wants desperately to protect him, he still tries his hardest to shove that person away, to keep him safe. I’ve got like four aus where he gets to live. I’m so invested in this character, I love him so much.

Most favorite: Luo Binghe. He was.... made for me............ Like, the overwhelming amounts of childhood angst were baked in by Shang Qinghua, but the in-story pain and suffering is PRECISELY my jam. I love a character with separation anxiety! I love a character with massive anxieties over being unwanted! Over nobody ever, EVER just choosing him! I love a character struggling with the idea that the person he loves most in the world thinks that he’s intrinsically Disgusting! I love the kind of stubborn determination that leads him to preserve a corpse for five years, desperately hoping for a way to revive it, constantly cooking fresh food, in case, in case he someday wakes up. The way Hua Cheng loves is overpowering, but he’s had time to like... learn to be mellow when he needs to be. Luo Binghe doesn’t have a chill bone in his body, and if he’s acting chill, it’s probably because he’s done some mental math and decided that being more clingy right now will probably get him pushed away harder. I love the combination of manipulative tendencies and a very, very genuine fear of rejection and being unwanted. There is nothing I don’t love about Luo Binghe, including his worst decisions. I love him so so much.

#spock replies #long post/#svsss #mdzs #tgcf #thanad-zid

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percywinchester27 · 3 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-22)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Anxiety, feels, light flirting?

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Hey peeps, just wanted to thank you guys for all the love. Y’all are awesome! <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Thank you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm.

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.”

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves.

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn't running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid.

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding you.”

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam.

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up.

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned.

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up this conversationally.

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a complete family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. Impossible… too painful, his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?”

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting.

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights.

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

*******************

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?”

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be any more ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained.

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing.

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night.

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework.

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn't.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?”

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said.

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold.

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here.

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years, a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

********

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious.

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him.

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted.

“There you are!”

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently.

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.”

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-... Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase.

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase had to know.

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement.

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction.

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls.

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand.

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.

*******************

A/N 2: I kinda really like the next chapter. I think it speaks more about about the sort of writer and person that I am than most things I’ve written yet. Can’t wait to share it with y’all.

So any predictions? ;)

Thank you for all the reblogs and comments! Not gonna lie, life’s been kicking my butt a lot lately. Believe it or not, all of your love really helps <3

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @niyahgray @traceyaudette @blueaura @awfulmoons @waterlily502 @mrsbatesmotel53

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #lawyer!Sam #Professor!Sam #professor!Sam x reader #lawyer!Sam x reader #lawyer au #professor!au #sam winchester #sam x y/n #sam x reader #sam fluff #spn fanfiction #anawritesspn #anawrites #Ana writes ALLU #allu 22 #q

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legemjohn · 3 years

Text

an introduction.

by now the "vinyl resurgence" has been so talked about, so reported on, so lived in that even kids know about it. you can easily catch children barely old enough to drive flexing a collection deep enough to make a lifelong aficionado envious, or a few choice cuts that are worth enough second hand to pay off someone's student loans. this isn't anything new anymore, it simply is. but for me, growing up, i didn't know what the hell "vinyl" was. my first experience with it was crawling around the floor in the family room of my childhood home, pulling back a door on our TV stand, and finding a short row of tall, colorful spines hidden behind a bag of playstation controllers. the pigments were faded, the text eaten up by missing pieces of print, the corners dented... they looked neglected, almost like antiques. i carefully grabbed one and pulled it out from the back of the cabinet, holding it in front of my face and trying to figure out what the hell it was. the picture on the front, while desaturated from years of dusty living, held a bright and warm color scheme that grabbed my eye immediately. hues of red and purple blended together on top of a large drawing of what kinda looked like bird wings, kinda looked like a flower in full bloom. a marble in the middle held a bob ross lookalike landscape inside, almost like a snowglobe. across it all was a single word in blue: "journey". "wait, journey? ugh, i hate journey." in my house, the only music that ever played was journey adjacent. any soon to be "classic rock" hair metal and blues rock bands you can think of, the more stereotypical the better, were the norm. journey, bon jovi, aerosmith... these were what i exclusively heard growing up. before i heard anything else, i enjoyed the music enough, but at this point, i had already had a borderline religious experience listening to "hybrid theory" by linkin park for the first time and realized what i had been missing out on. those aforementioned bands, with their flaccid riffs and sing along choruses just didn't hit anymore. regardless, my initial confusion wasn't quite solved. so, this has to do with the band journey, but what was this? i turned it over to see a list of songs on the back. i didn't really recognize any except for "wheel in the sky", a track that would often play from the speakers on top of the tv stand i was curled under. did this thing have music on it? i flipped it back around and felt one side of it gently open. looking inside, i was taken aback by how bad it smelled. it reminded me of my grandparent's basement, especially the corner of it filled with bins of old picture books that probably had seen more mold than air in recent years. the symptoms of neglect began to pile up. despite the less than stellar sensory experience at hand, i reached inside and grabbed hold of what felt like a thin plate. pulling it out softly, i found myself holding a flat, black disc. looking at the label, the deeply etched grooves, the rainbow pattern that would faintly shoot across the surface just in the right light, it dawned on me... i had seen these before! it wasn't rock music that introduced me to vinyl, but hip-hop... albeit, somewhat subliminally. countless music videos, photo shoots, album covers all featured these flat, black discs... either spinning endlessly or being pushed, flipped, and altogether manhandled by DJs. i didn't know what DJs did, but i at least knew that if someone was behind a machine with these discs on them, they were a DJ. eventually, my mother walked in and tersely told me to put the item back. i obliged and didn't think much of it for the immediate future. but as i got older and my passion for music grew insatiable, what i now knew as "records" or "LPs" became a curiosity i just couldn't ignore. my deep love of hip-hop led me to learn the history of house parties and sampling, educating me not only on LPs as a medium but as a tool. artists like trent reznor would speak endlessly about their experiences at record stores, how a single copy of pink floyd's "the wall" changed their life

beyond just the music in the grooves. i was entranced and i wanted in. meekly, i asked my mother if i could have some of the records sitting in the cabinet, maybe even just the duplicates. she flat out rejected the idea, to my dismay. i didn't even know how i could get a hold of these! i didn't have a credit card, so ebay was out of the question, plus i didn't have any record stores near me. but, i knew i could eventually find one if i looked online hard enough. for what i believe was my 12th or 13th birthday, i spent all my collected present money on a mail order shopping spree. i dropped something like $50 on CDs and 2 records from chicago's reckless records, to the confusion of my parents. while my love of music was growing in a way they couldn't ignore (despite them not even knowing yet i had been releasing music online already), any holiday money i would collect almost immediately got dropped off at a gamestop (or eb games when they were still around... or a babbages when they were still around) and exchanged for the newest tony hawk or gran turismo game. but no, not this time. this time, i was cashing out on music. so, when the package finally arrived and i excitedly had my mother open it, euphoria rushed in at lightning speed when i saw a black square inside, the same dimensions as that "journey" record all those years ago. sure, it was a cheap and somewhat scratched copy of a "the hand that feeds" remix 12" from nine inch nails (and a 45 copy of the "somewhere i belong" single from linkin park below), but it was my cheap and somewhat scratched copy. i didn't even have a record player, but i had finally did it... i bought my very own record. over 10 years, numerous moves, one massive sell off, and a half-decade tenure at a record store later, i currently have a record collection of over 500 pieces. i spent years and years endlessly curating and collecting LPs from all across the world, of any and all genres, and in all manner of conditions. and now i'm selling them. see, now we arrive at the point. (sorry for making you wait so long.) after all this time, i've made the decision to sell the vast majority of the collection i've basically spent a lifetime putting together. it wasn't an easy decision to make, as the idea bounced around in my head for years before i finally succumbed to the necessity of it, but this blog will be my way of giving the history i've been so lucky to collect over the years a proper, respectful send off. so here we go. over the next however long, i will be melodramatically and probably infrequently giving chunks of my collection one final rotation on my turntable, making my peace and saying my goodbyes to a part of my life that's come to define my relationship with my deepest passion: music. i'll reflect and share any stories or thoughts here as i go through, and hopefully someone other than myself will find some joy, entertainment, or even connection in these words. let's begin.

#vinylcollection #vinylrecords #vinylcommunity #records #lps #music #tumblog #writing #nonfiction #personal #nine inch nails

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diminished-fish · 4 years

Text

References for “A Portrait in Synesthesia”

This fic is COMPLETE now, so anyone who might have been hesitant to follow a wip, here you go! The whole synesthetic package, wrapped up with a nice lil bow on top. :3

For those who might have missed the masterpost: the fic was my contribution to the good omens big bang and is a sweeping, canon-compliant romp through history, told in (almost) all original scenes, with lots of nature imagery and T.S. Eliot. Kind of my own cold open, but with way more feelings and flowers. Also the sea. And an emotionally significant comet.

I had the opportunity to throw all of myself at this project and really enjoyed making it an intense focus for a while. In a way, it was an experiment to see how much I was capable of, which as it turns out, is more than I thought! (there’s a lesson here, probably...). Going this deep with the research and worldbuilding is not something I will likely be doing often for fic writing, but since I did with this one, I figured I’d share a bit of the process.

Under the cut are major spoilers for the timeline, story, and historic events in my recent fic, A Portrait in Synesthesia. I had originally planned to post this information in the end notes of the fic, but at some point, the list got way too long and posting it here became the sensible choice. There is a link to this post in the end notes of the fic, so it will be easy to find your way back here if you get to the end and want to know a bit more about the writing and research process.

The Title:

Putting this bit at the top because I don’t know where else to put it: The working title for this fic throughout the entire writing process was “In Synesthesia.” I almost changed the final title in the eleventh hour to “The Still Point of the Turning World” because of what a prevalent theme Eliot became (that line was also slipped into the story three times at important moments — once for each POV character). I also briefly considered “Always, We Were Enough” as a title, since the conversation with Adrielle at the lighthouse kind of... accidentally became the thesis of the whole story, but that was a bit too sappy even for me, a Confirmed Sap.

And while I’ll be questioning my choice of title for the rest of forever (titling things is hard, y’all), I ultimately thought the more descriptive title was best, and wanted to keep the nod to the song that inspired it all.

Speaking of the song... have you listened to it yet?? It’s great, I promise!

youtube

Synesthesia:

This was my research starting point. Before I dug into any of the historical or astronomical research or even started any serious plotting, I started reading about synesthesia, or, as Psychology Today defines it: the neurological condition in which the stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision).

Full disclosure: I do not have synesthesia. I spent a LOT of time researching it for this fic and did my best to portray it accurately, in spite of the fantastical elements I added. If I’ve overstepped or gotten something wrong and there are any synesthetes out there who would like to talk about it, I am very open to those discussions. The AO3 comments are always open to that, or you can message me/send me an ask here if you would like a less public forum.

I probably read r/Synesthesia in its entirety, but this thread of first-hand accounts was one of the most interesting to me and provided a lot of the inspiration for how I used the emotional synesthesia imagery.

Besides everyone’s favorite research staring point of Wikipedia, this link is one I got from Boston University’s Synesthesia Project, and it is a pretty exhaustive list of research and books, as well as art and poetry about synesthesia. I have also been working my way through The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks which is the book that came most frequently recommended to me in my search. It’s an extremely approachable and interesting look at neurological conditions, synesthesia among them.

As it appears in the fic:

In a broad, generalized sense, Aziraphale and Crowley have a few types of synesthesia in this story. Obviously, I gave it a supernatural/celestial twist and a healthy glug of magical realism, but I did try to keep it firmly rooted in the actual condition. The types of synesthesia they have are:

Chromesthesia: they both have this. Sounds, specifically each other’s voices, have a color association

Lexical-gustatory synesthesia/emotion-flavor synesthesia: Aziraphale has this. Words (in this case, emotions, specifically Crowley’s emotional state) have a taste.

Odor-color synesthesia/emotion-odor synesthesia: Crowley has this. Words (again, emotions, specifically Aziraphale’s emotional state) have a smell.

One of the defining characteristics of synesthesia is that it is constant. If a synesthete connects the number 9 with the color blue, for example, then they will always connect them in this way. This was the major difference between real synesthesia and the fantasy synesthesia in this fic. The sensory/emotion connections for Aziraphale and Crowley changed in subtle ways as their relationship evolved through the ages.

The “binding thread” also had nothing to do with synesthesia. That was me wanting to make the spool analogy work for the body swap, baking it into the entire fic because I liked how the imagery fit with the synesthesia, and then leaning into the magic and the soul memory so hard that I fell flat on my face into magical realism. (A True Fact: I have spent a fair amount of time lying on the floor in the past 6 months, shaking my fist at the cute little plot bunny who grew fangs and claws and dragged me down a rabbit hole that ended up being 100k words deep).

Anyway! Research!

Before I get into space and history and flowers... Yes, I admit to absolutely making up some wacky shit about Europa for the sake of fun banter and making a metaphor work. All those pre-Fall scenes on abandoned Earths are 100% a fantasy setting and I exercised the super fun right of a fantasy writer and embraced the worldbuilding (moonbuilding?). I also just thought Crowley would have delighted in tying a moon’s guts in knots, and Aziraphale would have delighted in the idea of whimsy-for-whimsy’s-sake. Please don’t lose sleep over the scientific inaccuracies.

Halley’s comet:

I promise not to bog this down with a billion comet facts, but there were a few particular things about Halley’s comet that had me gasping dramatically about how it’s “A.J. Crowley, but a comet!!” Specifically, it’s orbit and it’s structure.

Halley’s retrograde orbit gives it one of the fastest velocities (relative to Earth) of any object in the solar system. I never explicitly worked the “you go too fast for me” line into the fic because I was trying to do original scenes (this particular story lived between the lines), but... just know that tidbit is there and join me in these emotional dire straits. If you like.

The comet’s structure is what is known as a “rubble pile”, meaning it’s made up of a bunch of smaller rocks held together by gravity (read: a hot god damn mess held together by stubbornness).

As it appears in the fic:

The nucleus of Halley’s comet is shaped like a weird lopsided peanut. In fact, one could almost look at it and say it resembles a contact binary star, if such a thing could be a shriveled, misshapen pile of rubble.

Officially, Halley’s comet might have been recorded as early as 467 BC (a comet was recorded in Greece that year— unclear if it was Halley’s, but the timing and the fact that it was visible to the naked eye suggests that it probably was). This was the year I had Aziraphale making the scroll that causes Crowley’s panic in Athens (390 BC). I like to think that some human, at some point, caught a glimpse of it and tried to bring it to light, only to be written off as a crazed conspiracy theorist.

The apocalyptic depiction of Halley’s comet in chapter 9 (Bithynia) is actually based in fact. The comet made its closest approach to Earth (in human memory) in 837 AD, passing within 5 million kilometers. Its tail stretched halfway across the sky and it appeared as bright as Venus to the naked eye.

1910 Halley’s Comet panic. Bonus: c o m e t p i l l s

Where 1910′s appearance was a spectacular sight and one of the closest approaches on record (coming within 22 million kilometers of Earth), 1986′s was the worst viewing conditions in 2,000 years. The comet passed within 63 million kilometers at its closest approach, and had the sun positioned between it and Earth, making it impossible to see from areas with any amount of light pollution, and almost invisible to all of the northern hemisphere.

Historic events and settings:

Chapter 6 (Ostia): This was one of the chapters that I did a bunch of arguably unnecessary research for, since the history and the meat of the setting faded into the backdrop as the scene itself focused on dialogue and train of thought. The port town of Ostia was incredibly engrossing to read about, and between wikipedia’s ever-branching paths, ostia-antica.org, and ancient history encyclopedia’s entry, it ended up being one of the deeper rabbit holes I went down. My original intent for Aziraphale being in town was as a response to pirates sacking Ostia in 68 BC. I had him stationed there to guard against further attacks as the town rebuilt, and had him lingering because he was swept away by the romanticism of the art and the sea and the constant ebb & flow of people. I never found a way to work this in that didn’t feel super awkward and expository since the chapter was Crowley POV, so it was just left it as background noise.

Chapter 6 (pyramid of Cestius): Beyond being a magistrate of one of the four great religious corporations in ancient Rome (the Septemviri Epulonum), little is known about who Gaius Cestius actually was. As the city expanded, his lavish tomb was absorbed into the city walls (circa 3rd century AD), where it remains what he is remembered for to this day. I took most of my information from here (cross referenced with our lord and savior, Wikipedia) and had a chuckle at this poem by Thomas Hardy.

Chapter 8 (Plague of Justinian): The Yersinia pestis bacterium leaves no indicator on skeletal remains, meaning we rely on written records to track its path through history. The 6th century plague pandemic is the first recorded outbreak of bubonic plague, and for the purpose of our story, a certain distraught chronicler was the one on site, writing that history.

A note/cw: I wrote chapters 8 and 12 in October and November, respectively, and did much of my research for them over the summer. I imagine, given the current covid-19 pandemic, these sources would be less fun to follow up on now. Please be aware that the podcast episodes linked here, and the book cited in the miscellaneous refs section, get into pretty grisly details about illness and pandemics.

Chapters 8 and 12 (bubonic plague/The Black Death): I took a fair amount of my notes on bubonic/pnuemonic plague, specifically it’s path of destruction through Europe in the 14th century, from the two plague episodes of This Podcast Will Kill You. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and the Erins are great hosts, so check it out if you’re into delightful nerds bantering about epidemiology!

Chapter 9 (the death of Peter of Atroa): Peter of Atroa was an abbot whose fame as a miracle-worker landed him in a scandal accusing him of exorcising demons by the power of Beelzebub, rather than God. Theodore the Studite’s letter cleared his name enough to avoid execution, but his reputation didn’t fully recover until after his death in 837 AD, when he was canonized as a saint. Peter and Theodore were tough to find extensive information on without passing through a paywall, so I took these scraps and ran a mile with them.

Chapter 13 (Tlatelolco, the Aztec Empire, the Feast of the Dead): I used this site as the source and starting point on much of my research on the Aztec Empire. And listen… I know it looks like a website for babies, and yes, I’m aware that a lot of the articles are literally written for a pre-teen audience, but it’s also one of the most concise, thorough, well-researched, and — perhaps most importantly — easily-searchable sources I found. Most of the pages cite papers and archaeological journals and I was able to jump to SO many other great sources of information. Mexicolore has my undying love and devotion for making my research process easy and fun and also having lots of pretty pictures.

Most of the physical descriptions for Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco (surrounding landscape, canals and causeways, chinampas, etc.) started here.

Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco were independent cities, but shared a border (kind of like a city and a suburb) and the small island on Lake Texcoco (located where present day Mexico City is). Tenochtitlan was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and besides cross-referencing Mexicorlore, the link in the previous bullet point, and Wikipedia, I got a fair bit of information from these essays.

Tlatelolco’s market was the major hub of trade and commerce, and saw 20-40,000 people trading PER DAY. Research on the market started here.

Chapter 14 (Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse): While I strove for historical accuracy as much as possible in this fic, I did take some liberties— especially with the island of Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse (yes, it’s real!) circa 1350-1435.

The village of Brandarius is based on present day West Terschelling— a settlement founded as a direct result of the lighthouse. In the middle ages, both the village and the lighthouse were named after Saint Brandarius (or Brendan of Clonfert: ‘The Navigator’, ‘The Voyager’, ‘The Anchorite’, ‘The Bold’; patron saint of divers, mariners, and travellers). It’s still a relatively small village today, and it was a surprisingly difficult task to find historical records for Brandarius/West Terschelling dating back to the 14th century that say much beyond “it existed.” I loosely based the village off information found here, and named it “Brandarius” instead of “West Terschelling” based on the information found here.

The original lighthouse was built in 1323, destroyed by the sea in 1570, and rebuilt in 1594. Since there were no records (that I could find) of what the original lighthouse looked like, I loosely based the height and floor plan on the current tower, and made up everything everything else about the interior. The interior was based on information about other live-in lighthouses, specifically this one which is roughly the same height as the Brandaris.

The present day Brandaris lighthouse sits directly in the middle of West Terschelling. For the sake of that sweet Self-Imposed Exile + Cryptid Lighthouse Keeper drama, I took the liberty of making my fictional village of Brandarius teeny tiny and setting it slightly apart from the lighthouse.

Miscellaneous references:

In addition to the podcast, details about plague in chapters 8 and 12 were gleaned from the book The Great Mortality by John Kelly. It’s a cool read if you’re into nonfiction that reads like fiction, but does have some rather graphic passages so proceed with caution.

Yaretzi’s maquizcóatl/Aziraphale’s memento. To clarify, they were NOT the same item. I pictured Aziraphale cherishing the memory of the day by the lake with Yaretzi so much, that once he acquired the bookshop and had a place for all his kitsch, he hunted down a bad luck dragon of his own.

Here is the Aztec creation story about sun cycles and Earth’s rebirths that Yaretzi told Aziraphale. Another version of it.

In the scene in Mexico where Aziraphale briefly remembers, I used an analogy about a moment that hovers and flits away as “quick as a hummingbird.” Besides just liking the words, this was a nod to the legend of the cempasuchil flower. I originally had Yaretzi telling Aziraphale that story too, but the chapter was just way too long and something had to go.

In my very first outline, I had Aziraphale’s grief and personal growth chapter taking place at a Día de Muertos festival in Mexico. When the plot and the timeline finally got ironed out and I realized only half of that story was going to take place on Earth, I ended up focusing on Aziraphale’s brief relationship with Yaretzi instead of the festival itself (she was always the important bit). I also found myself married to the idea of that chapter happening in the 14th and 15th centuries, which meant the scenes in Mexico take place before Spain invaded and the festival was based solely on its Aztec roots. Because the plot shifted in this way, a lot of research went on behind the scenes that never made it into the fic, but for anyone interested in the Aztec Feast of the Dead, Mexicolore was my starting place again. From there, I found my way to reading about Mictecacíhuatl, the Aztec goddess of death, who was the main focus of the festival.

This isn’t research, but it might interest, like… three of you, so here you go. The scenes in Heaven (Aziraphale’s solo chapter in general tbh) were hard to write. One of those walls you hit with writing where you kick and punch and bang your head against it for months (literal months, I started wrestling with it in August and it didn’t come together until the end of January) but can’t seem to make any breakthroughs. Inspiration truly comes from unexpected places though, and when @gottagobuycheese sent me this Gregorian chant generator it actually… worked? I cranked that hum slider up to 100 and left it there for a few days (to the chagrin of my spouse) and lo— Zophiel.

There’s a cool legend about Saint Brendan of Clonfert’s sea-faring journey in search of the Garden of Eden that has nothing to do with this fic beyond being neat parallel. If that happens to be anyone’s cup of tea, the story is here. The tl;dr version is here. My original vision for the lighthouse included carved whales (St Brendan’s attribute) over the front door, and images from this story (the island of sheep, the Christmas island, the paradise island of birds) drawn on the walls of one of the bedrooms used by previous keepers’ children. Continuing the theme of “how stories echo” if you will. It felt really awkward and out of place once I wrote it in though, and that chapter was already so long once I got through all the plot bits I wanted, so it was left on the cutting room floor.

Speaking of taking liberties with the 14th century, I did fudge the timing a bit on the art created by Crowley and Adrielle. Drawings, especially pencil sketches, have their historical roots in the late 15th century, and I’m chalking this one up to the fantastical setting of the Good Omens universe. In a fantasy world where angels and demons walk among us and the earth is literally 6,000 years old, I feel like inventing pencils 100 years early is small potatoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is the edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Crowley nicked in Norwich. There are some really wonderful illustrations and scans of full pages under that link. I may or may not have lost a few hours down that research rabbit hole for a few throwaway lines (no regrets, I fall like Crowley).

One last rabbit hole...

I saved this bit for the end of the post since it’s not really research and I don’t know how interested people will be in this kind of thing. Also... this is a lot more emotional and personal than the historical aspects of the fic. This is just what I was feeling and thinking while I was writing, and this story is absolutely the kind of thing I expect everyone to take something different away from. If you read the fic, took your own meaning from it, and want to keep that meaning without me tarnishing it by babbling about symbolism (first of all, high five, I love you, thank you for hanging out with me and my stories), then feel free to skip the rest of this post. <3

But! For anyone who wants to know more about what I had in mind with the flowers and nature metaphors I worked into the story, read on!

The tag “it’s an OT3 where Earth is the third” is something I really worked to pull to center stage. In my mind, Earth was a fully formed character who also spent the pre-Fall storyline being jerked around by God and having its memory wiped. It experienced transformations, pain, heartbreak, joy, and love just like Aziraphale and Crowley did, and I wrote it as falling in love with the two of them over the course of the Earth Project, then remaining very much in love for the entirety of iteration 23 (the current iteration). “Memories that are buried in places deeper than the mind” referred to the soul imprints being formed, but also Earth’s buried memories— seeping through the cracks to connect them via synesthesia in emotionally charged moments, allowing them to find each other from orbit in iterations 20 and 21 (music and the sea), and pulling them together in moments of distress like Constantinople and Barcelona.

In the vein of “Earth as a character,” I used plants (mainly flowers), topography, and weather as Earth’s “voice” in the grief chapters when Crowley and Aziraphale were separated from each other and going through their individual arcs. I’m not sure it technically counts as flower language, since all the flowers featured in the fic were wild and growing in nature, but (almost) all of them served a metaphorical purpose.

Flowers:

Jasmine (for the moon): Aziraphale’s flower. Love, beauty, sensuality, good luck, purity. The rational hedonist.

Marigolds (for the sun): Crowley’s flower. Grief and remembrance of the dead, lost love, the fragility of life, creativity, winning the affections of someone through hard work. The fallen artist.

Purple Hyacinth: Earth’s flower. Regret, sorrow, a desire for forgiveness. The witness. These were the wildflowers that grew in the orchard/vineyard on the penultimate Earth, where Aziraphale and Crowley managed to work out the differences they couldn’t by the sea. Hyacinths are also the hazy images they would see in those moments of vulnerability, compassion, and compromise.

A fun aside! In very early drafts, the placeholder name I was using for angel Crowley was Jacinto, which is a Spanish/Portuguese name meaning “Hyacinth.” It was meant to be a reference to both the flower and the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinth, but my brain absolutely could not disconnect it from Manny Jacinto (and kept insisting on imagining Crowley calling Aziraphale homie and calling everything dope). Eventually I leaned into the Latin and landed on Joriel, then attached my banner to the Achilles and Patroclus myth instead of Apollo and Hyacinth, but the name Jacinto still makes me think of starmakers.

Honeysuckle & morning glory, climbing the oak tree: Aziraphale + Crowley + Earth. Seen in chapter 10, when Aziraphale and Crowley shake hands on the Arrangement. Two plants whose vines grow in opposing spirals. In nature, they have a symbiotic relationship, twining around each other in order to climb trees, walls, and fences, allowing both of them to grow higher than they could alone.

Or: local woman sees this tweet, hasn’t known peace since.

The deasilwise / widdershins (clockwise / anticlockwise) thing got sprinkled throughout the story, with deasilwise being the “angel direction” and widdershins being the “demon direction.” Halley’s comet, with its backwards orbit, orbits the sun deasilwise, even after Crowley becomes widdershins.

Amaranth: Immortality, unfading affection, finding beauty in inaccessible places.

The garden in the dunes and Petya’s travelling garden:

Where Aziraphale took a methodical, Kubler-Ross approach to dealing with loss, Crowley’s process was meandering and chaotic. The garden in the dunes was where it all came to a head— his way of throwing all of his emotions on the ground like a big jumbled pile of pick-up sticks, then slowly sorting through them and putting himself back together. There was a whole lot of Earth/flower speech going on in those scenes.

With the exception of zinnias, the garden was made up of perennials or self-sowing flowers. This happened “off-screen” as I could never find a decent way to work it in, but... the zinnias which Crowley bullied into being perennials returned to being annuals and died off after he left Terschelling and sometimes I still cry in the shower about it.

Zinnias: Adrielle’s flower. Endurance, lasting friendship (especially friendships lasting through absence), goodness, daily remembrance. This one is also a small self-indulgence on my part since Adrielle was something of a self-insert. My mother loves zinnias and, growing up, our house was absolutely surrounded by them in the summer. Anywhere there was a free patch of dirt, Mom planted zinnias. They’re a scrappy, weird looking flower that doesn’t have a smell and a lot of people find rather ugly... and I love them with my entire heart. There is no flower on this earth that fills me with more whimsy, nostalgia, or childlike contentment. Also butterflies love them.

Chamomile: Patience. Fresh chamomile flowers are very aromatic and smell like apples.

Daisies: Transformation. Also simplicity, loyalty, and new beginnings.

Poppies: Restful sleep or recovery, peace in death, remembrance.

Tulips: Each tulip color has its own meaning, but the most common thing they symbolize is deep love. That said, I mainly chose this one for their prevalence in the Netherlands, as well as being very colorful perennials.

Pansies: The love or admiration that one person holds for another, free thinking, remembrance.

Lily of the valley: Rebirth, the return of happiness. They also have a very strong, very sweet smell and can grow in cool climates. These were the main reasons I chose it, rather than any of the religious connotations.

Lavender: Silence, devotion, serenity, grace.

Orchids: There’s... actually no deep symbolism with this one. Nothing intended anyway. Orchids, lavender, and cranberries are the dominant native plants on the island of Terschelling. I thought they’d be pretty in the dunes.

I am also a music-must-be-playing-at-all-times kind of person and I came out the other end of this project with FIFTEEN (15) playlists. Some of them are all instrumental playlists that I used to set the mood while I wrote certain scenes/segments, others are lyrical and tell a story or helped me sort out the story, some chapters got entire playlists all to themselves (looking at you, 14th century). The main playlists are linked in the notes on AO3, but I may collect them all in a tumblr post at some point if there’s an interest.

This entire project was an enormous labor of love that took up pretty much all of my free time for six months. So, if you read this far... thank you for coming on such a long journey with me!! Truly, deeply, and from every corner of my heart, thank you for reading. <3

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laughingpinecone · 4 years

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Yuletide letter

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic (when in doubt, tell me what’s happening to them five, ten, twenty years in the future!), hurt/comfort, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, tropey plots that are already close enough to characters/canon, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploring the ~deep lore, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played entirely straight, sensory details, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, unrequested characters popping up.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings, consent issues, actual covid (fantasy plagues are okay)

Les Cités Obscures: any

This is a very general “please, anything in the style of canon, just maybe with less thoughtless sexism” request. I want to lose myself in these cities again, and in the strange lands that connect them. I’d be happy to follow any of the known characters and/or OCs, or eschew characters altogether and write about the cities themselves. What caught your imagination in Brüsel, Xhystos, Taxandria, Alaxis...? The history of some cool building that was only marginally featured in one of the stories? Or an OC city! If you’ve got a favourite European city that doesn’t already have its obscure counterpart, please tell me all about it! Go big, go wild! What strange and classically surrealist happenings take place within its walls? Or even... outside Europe... Nerding out about architecture is of course very welcome. I would also love to read a story based on any Schuiten illustration, contextualizing it as if it were part of this ‘verse. Here’s a bunch of them, for example!

Ghost Trick: Cabanela

You know.. him. Dazzlingly OTT, untiring, rock-solid self-esteem, loyal to a fault, following a rhythm of his own, flawless intuition until it fails and it all burns down… him. I just want to see more of him doing stuff! The way he’s chill and open toward new people (like Sissel and Missile in ch15) makes him perfect to throw at most other characters and see how they react to the sparkles… I’d love some focus on how ridiculous his aesthetic is, half Saturday Night Fever half hardboiled detective half bubbly preteen (for a total of 150%) and yet he makes it work. Or how ruthless he can be, possibly for the sake of the people he cares for. The quote “The intimacy of big parties”. Him and Alma in the new timeline bonding over knowing (once Jowd has spilled the beans) but not remembering that terrible timeline. Some tropey scenario on the job. Snark-offs with Pigeon Man, by which I mean PM snarks and it bounces off him like water off a spotless white goose’s back.

Ship-wise it’s only Cabanela/Jowd whenever it’s not infidelity, Cabanela/Alma in what-ifs also if it’s not infidelity and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd for me (and Lynne/Memry and Yomiel/fianSissel on the side). There are a bunch of shippy prompts in all my past letters - I would however reiterate here that Jowd. is. the worst tease. always. Like, just saying, but assume he’s pining big time and Jowd and Alma figure it out - they’d make a national sport out of excruciatingly protracted teasing.

Conversely, Cabanela/Lynne and Cabanela/Yomiel are NOTPs especially from Cabanela’s side. So while I appreciate the thick tension of a good Yomiel VS Cabanela confrontation like everyone and their cat, and also really appreciate a roughed-up Cabanela, and I do love Yomiel in his own right… I don’t want Cabanela being into it. Adrenaline junkie he may be but this hurts and his coat’s a mess and there’s no perfect winning scenario so he hates every second of it. (JOWD being super into Cabanela being roughed up is another matter altogether and he should probably mind his own business. ...incompatible kinks, truly tragic. they’ll have to find some other common ground. they’re smart, resourceful, playful fellows, I’m sure they’ll manage)

Kentucky Route Zero: Donald kentuckyroutezero

I love everyone in the cast, all acts and interludes, and I am extremely into all the themes this incredible work of art ended up exploring. Agreeing with the overall doom and gloom up to Act IV, I was blown away by Act V’s strong affirmation of the importance of the arts and of the bonds we make and of carving up spaces for ourselves in capitalism’s wake. Donald was, indeed, not a part of any of that. Even the final interlude updates us on Lula and mentions Joseph, but the big guy is nowhere to be seen. So, you know, there’s fanfiction! He’s so static, defeated. I am fascinated by the chain of metaphysical spaces that goes surface -> Zero -> Echo -> Dogwood and even within that framework, the hall of the mountain king is like a hopeless dead end. Dude’s terminally stuck. So - once again, in the spirit of transformative works, how could he get... you know... unstuck? Did Lula’s momentous appearance in Act III shake him? Having a functioning Xanadu again, perhaps? How could he interrogate that oracle, what recursive wonders would it show him? If he decides to leave, what does it feel to be on the surface again after so long, or on the river perhaps? Maybe he is forced to leave by the flood, if not this one, the next... Having him meet any other character would be amazing. Past or future time spent with Weaver... seeing Conway again, changed... programmer guy chatting up musician androids... did he know Carrington from his college days or was Carrington only a friend of Lula’s?

As for Lula herself and Joseph too: “Flipping through the pages, Conway is able to gather that it’s a story about three characters: Joseph, Donald, and Lula. It’s something like a tragic love triangle, but much more complex. Some kind of tangled, painfully concave love polygon.” 😔 I ship them as a full triad, if you can nudge them in that direction, good. But I’m very open to non-romantic resolutions as well, going past their messy feelings to find each other as friends after so many years maybe. Or... a start. idk.

I’d be interested in fic that leans on the game’s adjacent genres: wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I’m also open to AUs, real or through Xanadu. This also feels like a good place to stress that I really, really like caves.

And now for something completely different: FAQ: The “Snake Fight” Portion of Your Thesis Defense is in the tagset this year. I’d say that the crossover with the snake portion of Here and there along the Echo writes itself, but it would not be correct, as in fact I would like you to write it for me. Feel free to not feature Donald if you focus on this crossover instead!

Uru would be a fun crossover too, for Donald specifically. He’s very DRC-shaped in how he tilts at doomed projects which just so happen to be deep underground.

Pyre: Volfred Sandalwood

This is a Volfred solo, Volfred&literally anyone or Volfred/Tariq, /Oralech or /Tariq/Oralech request. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure, while out of the other triumvirates, I’m “love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. fwiw I also enjoy Jodi/Celeste and Bertrude/Pamitha a lot!

I feel deeply for all of Pyre’s main themes - literacy, degrees of freedom, the fragile time that is the end of a historical cycle, nobodies rising up to the occasion, building a better society, and of course found family, “distance cannot separate our spirits” and all that jazz, and Volfred is squarely rooted at the center of all of them. I really really love everything he stands for, even if he’s overbearingly smug in standing for it. Just please tell me things about my fave. His relationship to the Scribes (as a historian, a some kind of vision, via *ae or once he’s a star himself)? A ‘forced vacay’ Downside ending where he looks at the Union from afar and keeps living in this strange transformational place? Life in a cramped Blackwagon that was meant for like 5 people tops and is currently eight Nightwings, a herald and an orb? Since he picked him for the job to begin with, does he respect and cherish Hedwyn as he dang well should? What does it feel like to try and Read a herald? Was he ever in danger, in the Commonwealth or in the Downside? What daring act of resistance did he and Bertrude pull off at some point in their past? It’d be cool if one of his old pamphlets came up at some point. Does he puff up as prime minister because he’s nervous, and who can see past his hyper-professionalism and lend a hand? Please roast him big time about the votes he assigns to the various Nightwings in his planner? What’s his attitude toward the flame’s purification (what with being a tree but mostly like, as a general concept. He did nothing wrong!) (well he definitely said some things wrong and sometimes oftentimes the ego jumps out, but his intentions did nothing wrong)? When did his calculating approach fail him? Something with Pamitha along the lines of that edit that goes “Can we talk, one ten to another?“/"I am an eleven, my girl, but continue”? Dude could easily be voted sexiest voice in the Downside - how much is he aware of it? Does he sing? I love how he bears his ‘reader’ brand proudly. And speaking of scars, I have to wonder, looking at Manley for comparison, if the shape of his head, with that massive crack, isn’t also due to injuries.

As a refrain from my general likes: emphatically yes xeno to both shippy interactions at all ratings and to gen explorations of what a Sap is like… I’d love to read all your headcanons.

Ship-wise, I enjoy him with Tariq as this kind of esoteric connection of minds, guarded words full of secret meanings, long contemplative walks together (is any external pov watching...?), Volfred’s Reader powers brushing against Tariq’s mind and getting weak in the knees at the starlit expanse he finds there, so unlike mortal thoughts. Tariq finds his individuality learning from him; Volfred presumably gets a transcendent glimpse of the Scribes. And I enjoy him with Oralech as pretty much the opposite of that, Oralech is so very mortal compared to him, such a precious, fleeting, burning life especially after his fall. Oralech’s idealism is very dear to me, it was their plan, their shared revolutionary spirit, I find it deeply moving. And I am very interested in seeing them rebuild their connection now that Oralech is back, changed, and in some ways he can learn to let go of his misconceptions and slowly open himself to Volfred’s love again, but in other ways that’s who he is now, with this deep-set anger, and what does it even feel to realize that you’re the symbol of the end of an era (the end of the Rites, the fading of the Scribes). I’m interested in both topside and downside endings for all of them, as long as they end up on the same side, the revolution was peaceful and they don’t angst too much about the side they ended in. Tariq can ‘find his way home’ in the near post-canon somehow or even be summoned again, as a different aspect of the same ‘moonlit vision’ that once inspired Soliam Murr.

Strandbeest: any

https://www.strandbeest.com/

I would just like words to go with these, please and thank you so very much. Worldbuild to your heart’s content! Specifically: I’m fascinated by the premise that the strandbeest are living creatures that evolve and adapt to their ecosystem. A world where life is just wind stomachs and sandy joints, and the tide that can catch you unaware. I would like a story that feels distinctly inorganic. The wonder that is the existence of these creatures. Their unique struggles. Weird and experimental if you like. With a mechanical focus, maybe?

I nominated four critters as a selection of the different cool things they can do - Percipiere Excelsus is huge and has the hammer mechanism, Suspendisse’s tail senses the hardness of the sand, Uminami is my fave caterpillar and the caterpillars overall feel like a new paradigm after a mass extinction event, Ader straight-up flies... but they’re all wonderful. If you want to focus on different strandbeest, please do!

Twin Peaks: Lucy Moran

Case fic but they don’t find out jack shit, someone disappears, David Bowie was there, it’s complicated. Fragmented, shifted, mirrored identities. New Lodge spaces. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. Transcendence. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation used as a prompt, actually. Whatever goes on on Blue Pine mountain or the even more mysterious things that go on on White Tail mountain where exactly zero canon locations are found. Twin Peaks is all about the mystery to me, the awe of mystery and unknowability and the human drive to look beyond and the risks of getting a peek, and about shared consciousness and trauma taking physical form in an uncaring world. Go wild with the ethereal whooshing! But I also love the human warmth at the heart of it all, and sometimes it’s enough to anchor these characters and let them have a nice day. A fic entirely focused on some instance of coziness against the cold chaotic background of canon would be great too.

For Lucy specifically, a big draw for me is how canon (...s2 need not apply) empathizes with her way of processing the world. Not just Peaks, but On the Air’s protag who is basically a Lucy expy also gets the narrative completely on her side and that’s great. And I love how in s3, her focus on the small things around her is always echoed by bigger, climactic events beyond her horizon (bunnies / Jack Rabbit’s palace, chair order / Garland’s chair, her first scene talking about the two sheriffs / doubles everywhere...). It feels to me like some kind of off-kilter mindfulness and I love it. She’s also got a loving husband and an amazing son, which, in this economy and also this canon? Damn. The one functional family, imagine that. I am not interested in focus on family dynamics, but singularly, either Lucy/Andy or Lucy&Wally are great - in particular, I’m interested in how strange they are and yet they make it work. With the ruthless critique of traditional family structure that’s all over canon, maybe they make it work specifically because they’re not doing any of that. A bit like the Addams family... but... not goth...? Anyway. I’d love to see Lucy interact with and maybe strike a friendship with any character she’s never shared a scene with in canon! In the tagset, there’s Diane for some secretaries bonding, Audrey because??? why not?, Albert because it’d be an epic enemies to friends slowburn, some version of Laura in the future, if we’re feeling really daring maybe even some version of Coop in the future, still fragmented... or anyone you want! Outside the tagset I’d be curious about Hawk, Margaret and maybe Doris in particular, I think, and Phil, and Nadine and the Invitation to Love fandom in general (Frost says it still airs - did it get as weird as TP s3 did?), but if you have an idea with someone else, absolutely go for it!

Canon-specific DNWs: any singular Dreamer being the ‘source’ of canon, BOB (let alone Judy) being forever defeated in the finale, Judy being an active malevolent presence in the characters’ lives, clear explanations for canonical ambiguities, ‘Odessaverse’ being the reality layer, the Fireman’s House by the Sea being the White Lodge, whatever Twin Perfect’s on about, Cooper/Audrey, Cooper/Laura

#letter

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onestowatch · 4 years

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Boy Willows Drops Dreamy Music Video for "Fila" [Q&A]

Boy Willows, aka Landon Fleischman, makes music that offers a deep amalgamation of incandescent alt-pop, jubilant jazz, and psychedelic-tinged folk. Impeccably paired with sensory lyricism and passionate vocals, he delivers a hypnotic and singular resonance.

The LA-via-Maryland artist recently shared his new single "Fila" with Dylan Minnette of Wallows. On "Fila," Boy Willows stretches out to embrace relatable themes of vulnerability and healing both inwardly and outwardly without feeling overbearingly serious. "Fila" serves as a therapy session between two friends as they cope with being alone in different ways. Nestled in a warm and gentle soundscape, the sonic components are woven with nostalgia, charm, and a bit of whimsy. We caught up with Willows for a quick Q&A about the track and the equally nostalgic and whimsical music video directed by Boy Willows, shot by Seannie Bryan (Madeline Kenney, Skullcrusher) and edited by Jordan Pories.

Ones to Watch: This song, although short and sweet, seems to have a lot of complexity to it. It sounds like throughout the single, the main characters are grappling with feelings of loneliness and figuring out how to cope. What is this song about to you, and how did this song come to be?

Boy Willows: I think both verses deal with the thoughts that bubble up when you feel useless, small, or alone, but what I love about the song is there's a twinge of hope. My goal with Fila was to spur myself into believing that I could create my own reality of acceptance and momentum. I had been feeling isolated a while before the pandemic hit - on the perimeter looking in on other people's social circles or relationships or success. My hope was that by acknowledging these truths in a song, I could start to take up my own space, make my own club of acceptance per se.

What was the creative process like for the single? What made you want to go for this very ethereal sound, and were you inspired by anything in particular?

I worked on this super grand, minute-long glitchy harmony thing and pitched it down an octave (oooo). It was so soothing and slow and big, I started producing around it, and I felt like I was in a dream where I could say anything I wanted, no matter how heavy or light.

What are your thoughts on girls that wear Fila?

Haha, in short, they're cool. This song is truly a peek into all the thoughts that were swirling around my brain, making me feel alone - and one of those thoughts was about aging. I wish this wasn't the truth, but I was feeling fear about getting older. I wrote that line about Filas and didn't think much of it or even really understand why I wrote it until a couple nights ago. It's definitely a light-hearted observation about youth culture, but I think I wanted to poke fun at it cuz I felt like I wasn't a part of it for the first time - and that frightened me. It's insane that even that line was born out of the fear of being left out, but I'm pretty sure that's the true true.

I loved not only the sonic atmosphere you created, but also the story of you told through the lyrics. Do you have a favorite verse from this track or one that speaks to you? What is your approach when it comes to songwriting?

I just love how much the endings of each verse stick out - "I just feel like I don't deserve this life." It's a line you could interpret so many different ways, and each way would be true. When I'm working on a song, it starts with the music. I picture where it takes me, how fast I'm moving, if I feel cool or angry or defeated, and if I'm lucky, a phrase will fall out of my mouth that feels true, even if it doesn't make sense at first.

I think the music video does a great job of visualizing the lightheartedness of "Fila." What was the creative process like, and what was it like working with your team on the video?

There's this fucking incredible animated video called Satiemania from 1978 made by this Croatian animator, Zdenko Gašparović. In it, there's a delectable section where it's just different shoes walking in an impossibly groovy way. I wanted that tone of animation mixed with the camaraderie and fuckit-energy of The Pharcyde's "Drop" music video. I brought those ideas to my genius creative friend/ shaman, Jordan Pories, and we got to work, exploring the world of the song, trying to amplify and showcase everything in a dreamy, slow way. Seannie Bryan is a recent friend of mine and a killer DP. She captured the dreamy light perfectly. We rolled up to the spot at 6am. It was 90 degrees, and we knocked it out in an hour and a half, only stopping once because I was going to throw up from spinning.

Dylan Minette's voice perfectly compliments the laid back yet introspective vibe of the song, and it looked like y'all had a lot of fun doing the music video. What was working with him like, and how did he get involved with this single?

He and I go way back. We used to be in rival boy scout gangs. No, I do lighting for Wallows, and we met through that. One day on the tour bus, I was showing him some new tunes, one of which was "Fila." It was 35 seconds, and he said it needed to be longer, so I said, "hop on in." He added his verse, and we were OFF TO THE RACES. He's got a really strong creative compass and just knows what he likes. We finished the song in a couple days - fucking painless, dare I say, very enjoyable bordering on a lot of fun.

Tell me about Desert Mike. I feel like although rattlesnakes do deserve some love and I agree that the war between them and human beings is senseless, I'm not exactly in a rush to give them a pat on the head...Ok, but for real, tell me about this clip at the end. Is it an easter egg for a future single? In your last single, "i love it when you talk," you intercut the clips of you with film footage from the 80s and 90s. Is Desert Mike a Boy Willows creation or a relic from the past?

SHEESH, am I paying you?? because if not, then I SHOULD. The Boy Willows canon is a long, meandering labyrinth of characters that doesn't conform to traditional standards of "time" or "being funny" or "good. Desert Mike exists in all Boy Willows worlds, though, this much I can say. In the ILIWYT video, Desert Mike easily could have made a feature, and now I want to know who you've been talking to...your ability to connect the dots is...suspicious.

Has the pandemic effected you or inspired you as an artist? If so, how?

Really hot take comin at ya, I think the pandemic is not good. Bad even! I lost my job, so financially, I've been very inspired to survive haha. This isn't the sexiest answer, but the truth for me is, I put everything into my music but am also looking for a job - sometimes balancing those two things is really fucking hard. Instead of feeling inspired to write about my difficulties, I just want to solve them. So I'm really looking forward to landing a part-time gig as a call representative for Spirit Airlines, so I can get back to making my music.

Once the world comes to a state of a new normal, what's the first thing you want to do?

I'd love to travel somewhere new with my friends. A friend of mine is living in New Zealand working on an alpaca farm. You bet your ass I'm flying there at the first chance.

Alternate fun idea: Get a table at a restaurant, deep in the back, as far inside as possible. Order one appetizer every 30 minutes and stay there for a minimum of nine hours, just being so loungey and just snacking hard, mozzarella sticks flying every which way, napping in marinara sauce.

When shows and concerts are back, who do you want to see, and who do you want to tour or play with?

When touring comes back, I would LOVE to tour with Jadu Heart, Far Caspian, Sure Sure, to name a few. I just want to crowd surf for a month straight honestly. Give a ton of sweaty hugs. I want to see Toro y Moi, Thumpasaurus, Squirrel Flower.

Who have you been listening to throughout the pandemic? Are there any Ones To Watch?

A lot of Tribe Called Quest for long drives. I'll put "Check The Rhime" on repeat. I just discovered this dude named Shuttle his song "Boy" is fucking groooovy. I'm an OG KT Tunstall stan too - I've been bumping her 2013 album "Invisible Empire" like a mad man. Kevin Morby for the campy vibes, Rufus for the stank, Lomelda for the love, Van Morrison because if I get married, my first dance will be to "Crazy Love," and I like to daydream about that when I drive. Last but most important, The Prince of Egypt soundtrack.

Oh also, I've been listening to a lot of Anna Burch, Far Caspian, Bea1991, a compilation of geese wearing hats, Mei, Shuttle and this new artist you HAVE to listen to - he's a little out there but give him a try, Drake.

youtube

#Boy Willows #Fila #Dylan Minette

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

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Αιώνια αγάπη (AU) pt.1

01: First day mistakes

Summary: Getting a chance to pledge for her mother’s old sorority, Y/N is completely unaware of the turmoil that await ahead. Once she meets the handsome Dolan twins, she finds herself making the mistake of liking them.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language

Word count: ~ 4000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

Thank you for being in the story: @graysons-thumb as Perry, @daddygraysonsbitch as Sara Howell.

Also a big shout out to my girl Yashi for being a beta reader on this! @godlydolans.

Sorority life. It's supposed to be a glamorous experience with parties, sorority sisters you can always count on and crazy cute fraternity guys who are more than just their body. The whole point is to provide students with opportunities to lead, serve, build lifelong relationships to fall back on and grow intellectually.

That's what Y/N expected, at least.

As a legacy, she had a place already guaranteed in the Kappa Delta chapter of Dartmouth. It's practically all her mother ever talked about concerning college and although she was sick of it at the time, she came to miss her excited rambling once she passed.

It was never a path Y/N wanted to take, quite the opposite. Y/N always planned to escape the Greek life and Dartmouth in general if possible. However, those rambles her mother annoyed her with in the past had become the very reason why she set her sights on Dartmouth and Kappa Delta. She was determined all through high school to land a spot and having her legacy status definitely made it easier. She wasn't the type to enjoy nepotism, but there was no way she'd ever refuse that advantage in this matter.

After her mother died, her determination to follow in her footsteps was the only thing that connected her to her spirit. She felt closer to her mother, like she was still there and cheering for her. She wanted to make her proud and continue what she wanted for her.

So she did.

With her dad unable to drive her, Y/N took matters in her own hands and drove to Dartmouth on her own. She didn't mind it, though. In fact, she's become used to her father's absence. He loved her mother dearly and her death left him a changed man. He still took care of Y/N, he gave her attention she needed, but he turned to work for a cure to his pain. Y/N understood, because she did a similar thing with her college obsession. She looked a lot like her mother, but her temper matched her father's.

Parking the car, she's immediately greeted with a sensory overload of flashy clothes and loud music, so many people walking around her and laughing at jokes she wasn't in on. They milled about with rucksacks, mostly in little packs of three or four. Jeans almost ubiquitous, although a few dressed in bright colors, punk or goth.

She grabbed her bag, knowing her things are already shipped to the sorority house on campus. Although she'll have to go through the pledging process, she had already received her rushing invitation which she gladly accepted. The girls she talked to were over the moon, because having legacies is always a great statement on the sorority and its quality.

Y/N was a sign of their good reputation, one she wanted to maintain.

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Y/N stumbles, tripping on her own two feet. Time seems to slow down when you're falling. In the seconds it took her to reach the ground she knew it was going to hurt. Just before she hits the ground, eyes closed to prepare for the pain, she finds herself wrapped in someone's arms. The cologne is a dead giveaway of the sex, large muscles that encased her serving as backup proof.

Squinting with her left eye, Y/N faced a breathtaking view and a mirthful laugh.

His hair is messy, wild and pushed up in the front, the sides pushing forward as if to form wings of sorts. The deep brown strands let the sun trickle through to her face, almost blinding her. To be fair, she's completely unsure if the sun is to blame or his beauty. His eyes carry a kindness she's rarely seen in her life and a glint of mischief she'd always found entertaining. Arched, slightly bushy eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes frame his eyes and it makes her heart speed up beyond what she thought possible. His nose is perfectly formed, the kind of a button-small shape that achieved a look she'd think was thoroughly photoshopped. Her eyes flicker to his lips, licking her own subconsciously. Those lips are plump, gently pink and tucked to the left corner to form a self-satisfied smirk. It brings her attention to his left cheek and she notes the cute freckle that only adds onto his already extraordinary good looks.

"Can I help you to your feet now or will you stare at my face all day?" The guy remarks playfully, ruining the picture she had painted in her mind.

Why do guys speaking usually destroy all the romance of the moment?

She holds onto his shoulders with both hands, helping herself up with little to no assistance on his behalf.

"Thanks." She fakes a smile, politely thanking the guy in front of her. She can finally tell just how tall he is compared to her and she always considered herself to be an average height. However, next to him, she felt like a tiny figurine - small and fragile.

She takes a step back, preparing to turn around and the guy's eyes widen, grabbing a hold of her forearm quickly.

"Wait. I didn't mean to be rude." He apologizes, his previously cocky persona melting and a nervous one taking place.

"I'm Ethan." He releases her arm, offering his hand to shake.

Cautious, Y/N takes his hand and gives it a weak shake before retracting her hand to the side. She didn't want to keep the contact for too long, not wanting to suddenly find his hands attractive too. He's got too much going for him look-wise and she can live without getting hooked on him.

At least not so soon.

"Y/N." She tucks her hand inside her jacket pocket, feeling that dreaded awkwardness flood her.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ethan asks coyly, looking around before taking a step closer to her and leaning in.

"Uh, sure." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a tinge of panic rushing through her mind with his sudden closeness.

She's always had issues with people entering her personal space without permission, which is why she was on the brink of freaking out. As if he could sense it, Ethan frowned slightly, dragging his foot back and resuming his former position.

Relaxing, Y/N let out a long, heavy sigh as if she was holding her breath the entire time.

"I'm supposed to do this incredibly stupid thing, a dare of sorts and I was thinking you can be my audience? Like, maybe it will suck less with you watching me and hopefully not judging me like others will?" Ethan chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

Raising her eyebrow, her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips in thought before giving him a curt nod and a small smile of encouragement.

"Sure. I kind of owe you for saving my life a few minutes ago." Y/N reminds him, getting a very relieved Ethan to smile in gratitude. He didn't seem interested in charging her for that, like it was his second nature, but he'd sure as hell use it if it meant his embarrassment would be lessened.

Ethan cleared his throat, anxiously looking around to see if there's anyone watching him beside Y/N. Once he was certain he's in the clear, Ethan busted out the most ridiculous dance moves and a rather high pitched performance of a song Y/N deemed to be a joke.

"I don't need you crying..." Ethan's face contorted, his eyes closing shut to hide from the world.

"I don't need you lying..." He continues and even Y/N is having a hard time listening to the cringe this song turned into. People began to gather, laughing at Ethan which started to fuel her anger.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn. Just one thing." His voice breaks and a guy whips out a phone, starting to film this disastrous event. Noticing a piece of paper in Ethan's hand, Y/N snatches it fast, stopping Ethan. He opens his eyes in fright, looking at the crowd around him like a deer in headlights, finding himself tongue tied.

"Hit me with your one thing, oh, oh, oh." Y/N starts, surprising not only Ethan, but also everyone around her. Unlike Ethan, Y/N's voice sounds trained. The vocals flow from her lips in such an aesthetically pleasing sound that Ethan is flustered. Despite horrible lyrics, the song doesn't seem so bad coming from her mouth. She nudges Ethan, pointing to the paper. She reminds him to join in, finishing the song together.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn!" Crumbling the paper in her hand, Y/N hides it in her jeans pocket and raises her hand in the air. She opens her hand, turning her palm toward Ethan, signalling a high five is in order.

Without hesitation, Ethan high fives her, covering his mouth right after.

"That was the best thing ever. Thank you so much." He whisper shouts, eyes wide and his shoulders hunched to help him lean forward and down to be face level with the girl before him.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm awesome that way." She tucks her hair behind her ear, shyly averting her gaze to the ground. Ethan decides to be bold, pressing the tip of his index finger under her chin, tilting it up so he'd look into her eyes once more.

He liked her eyes - the colour, the intense emotion hiding behind. It's as if she doesn't even know how beautiful she is and it awakens something inside of him; something he had long forgotten. It reminds him of the past, two hundred years ago to be exact and recognition flashes in his brown hues.

"You really are." He subconsciously gravitates toward her, his lips parting ever so slightly. She's intoxicating, almost impossible to ignore and he doesn't even want to try.

Y/N doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat when she sees Ethan is coming closer with the intent of kissing her and yet, she refuses to move. She never does this, but with him? It's an unexplained pull and she doesn't want to fight it.

"GET YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF HER, KDR!" A girl shouts, interrupting their moment.

Y/N jerks back, whipping around to face the screaming girl who is clearly pissed off with the almost show of affection between her and Ethan.

The girl is about 5'7'', taller than Y/N almost 5 inches! Her hair shone like the sea at night, the black strands utterly white where the bright rays fell. It falls just below her shoulders, her bangs framing her pretty face. Eyes the colour of aged mahogany, one rich and warm but most of all, burning with rage. Her cropped hoodie and high waisted jeans are stylish, but Y/N doesn't have time to focus on anything else as she nears them, pointing her index finger at Ethan accusingly.

"Next time you touch one of ours with those hands will be the last time you have hands! Capiche?" She threatens and Y/N turns to her with a frown before it dawns on her.

While every sorority had a brother frat house they worked with in furthering their goals, the history in Dartmouth had a slightly different look on it.

Well, Kappa Delta did.

Ever since the houses existed, Kappa Delta Delta and Kappa Delta Rho, the brother fraternity, have hated each other. It goes back to the very beginning and for reasons unknown to both parties at this point. What is known is that the competitiveness never stopped to this day, the bigotry runs deep.

And this girl, whoever she is, clearly belongs to Kappa Delta. That means Ethan...

Y/N stops, quickly taking one more step back and raises both hands in mock surrender.

"I had no idea!" She whisper shouts, her eyes wide as she moves over to the girl and narrows them at Ethan.

"You never said you're the enemy." Y/N points out, throwing her hair over her shoulder before turning around and stomping away.

"Hold up!" The girl runs after Y/N, catching up in no time.

"Can't. Need to get away." Y/N says through gritted teeth, horrified with what almost happened. Of course he's too good to be true. She knew there had to be a catch.

"I won't tell the girls, don't worry." Those words stop Y/N from moving, turning to her new companion.

"We've all been tempted by the Dolan twins one way or another. My lips are sealed." The girl states and Y/N raises a brow.

"There's two of them?!" She exclaims, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh yeah! I had the Grayson bug, but he never dates anyone. We have a theory he's gay or he really does hate our sorority." She puts a hand to her mouth, whispering the last bit as if it's a top secret information meant to stay between her and Y/N.

"Well, this one certainly did a number on me." Y/N breaths out, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm Perry!" She introduces herself, nudging Y/N to keep moving. "And we need to hurry to the house if you want to make the pledging on time."

Y/N rushed after the girl, wondering where she gets her energy from. She didn't even ask her name, almost like she already knew her. Which makes sense considering she's a legacy pledge, one that shouldn't even fret about her position but she does. She always worries about everything, it's just who she is.

I fraternized with the enemy, she thinks, praying it remains a secret.

Arriving at the house, Y/N halts her movements completely.

She looks at the large house, a mansion she's meant to enter, her entire body filling with panic whenever she makes a move forward. It's like a step forward, step back sort of a thing. She takes that step forward, prepared to take on the world and make her mum proud and then she remembers how she got this opportunity and returns to her original position.

She's ashamed, completely horrified by her actions. She's never been the type to thrive on nepotism. Y/N values hard work above all else, but ever since her mother died she allowed herself these small crimes. She hates it, but doesn't change her ways. It's not cheating if she's born with this right, is it?

Shaking her head at her own cowardly behavior, she lifts her chin up and purses her lips. Straightening her maroon colored leather jacket, she takes a deep breath and starts moving toward the building.

Just be yourself. Just walk in there and own it. Sure, this isn't on your own merit, but you deserve it. Just take a deep breath and go.

Her thoughts aren't helping, but she does find her steps are quicker and steadier. She feels her lips stretch into a pleased smile when she notices the door is already open, as if the building itself is welcoming her.

One step until she's inside, blissfully anxious and a puddle of nerves, when it happens.

BAM.

She stumbles back, holding onto her nose in shock. Her eyes water and lips part wide open as her knees bend to preserve what's left of her balance. The pain of walking straight into glass doors is nothing compared to the shame that washed over her. She's consumed in it, imagining how she'd have two vertical lines on her forehead and a blue coloring at the top of her head with her pupils being only dots in big white circles if this were a cartoon.

But it's not. Instead of that image, she got a bunch of frats walking out their house, laughing and pointing at her. She turns to them with a glare, finding a tall and rather buff guy standing on the porch of the house next door. He looks quite familiar with his lips quirked upwards. He's fighting a smile, one that she can't as she giggles awkwardly. She respects his attempt to stifle his laugh, but not the hand he used to send her a small, teasing wave.

"You alright there?" He asks, his voice dark and low, his tone cheerful.

Oh, he's enjoying this, she thinks.

She faces him, finding herself gobsmacked. Not only is he truly tall and burly with dark hair and a stubble, but he's also truly pretty with his earthly hues and pearly-white smile that serves as a stark contrast to his brown hair. She's always been a sucker for tall, dark and handsome men and so far, she's met two that fit that description perfectly. The first one turned out to be an enemy and considering where she's at, she had to assume this one could be too.

He's familiar somehow, though. Almost like he reminds her of Ethan.

Didn't Perry say Ethan had a twin?

"Yeah. Only bruised my ego." Y/N breathes out, keeping a nervous smile on her face as she squints to look at him better. Heat rushes to her face, turning her cheeks a deep pink in spite the layer of make up covering them.

"Don't worry. It's not the first time this has happened." He chuckles, leaning on the door frame and folds his arms over his chest.

"I'm hoping you'll get by without anymore incidents like this. Or should I keep a close eye on you? Just in case?" He smirks, watching her intently.

She's definitely blushing right now.

"I t-think I'm good." She stutters, mentally facepalming. She might not be the most confident person in the world, but she's not usually a stuttering mess. It's concerning considering she still has an entire night of sorority events to do.

"Well then, if you need me, just ask for a Grayson. I'll come runnin'." He turns around, glancing over his shoulder while he walks away.

Boy, does he look good walking away! Phew!

"Remember when I said Ethan had a twin?" Perry pops up again, a friend by her side.

She forces Y/N to stop staring at Grayson's ass and actually focus on the reason why she's here. She also reminds her of their conversation and her heart drops.

Not again.

"Did I just...Yeah." She turns toward the girls with a well rehearsed smile.

She looks to the other woman, no - girl. She has curly, shoulder length, rich brown hair which reflects a dark red under the light. Her eyes are almost grey - not a dull, unremarkable grey like that of concrete or stone. They are the grey of the last ashes on a fire, tossed up on the breeze; the grey of dove feathers, not the albino kind, but the ones with a hue so soft that they could have been pencil drawn. They had that look of birds flying on sunlit days, the shine and quick movement, yet relaxed, purposeful, at ease.

"Great! Then you know to stay away from them. I'm Sara Howell and I'm supposed to take you up to your room. Don't tell the other pledges you got one, though." She gives Y/N a kind smile, noticing the jitters she's drowning in. Once she comes closer, Y/N realizes she's about the same height as her, finally feeling like there are some normal sized people around campus for a change.

"Oh. So, um. How are they? Like, are they tough during pledges...Hazing a thing?" Y/N asks, rubbing her palms together slowly, putting more pressure on the part from where her fingers sprout.

Sara smiles, pursing her lips in thought before taking a step back and nodding her over to follow. Y/N spares a look, searching for a glimpse of either brother before walking after Sara, biting her lower lip. She can taste the lipstick on her tongue, knowing her teeth are doing damage to the carefully applied red colour Ethan almost smeared on his face.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs, giving Y/N a good look of her face that is freckled as stars in the night sky, which is a clear sign to take a step back. Personal space is important and she'd rather not make her uncomfortable. To be honest, Y/N feel uncomfortable too.

"Just a little info before we go up where the sisters are. Kappa Delta Rho are a big no no. They're not all bad, some are great. Like, Grayson. He is a little harder to work with and he always expects you to be on top of things if you're forced to do some events together. Ethan is a little more loose and fun to be around. He's also a big flirt and I'd suggest you give in only if you don't value your position here." Sara whispers the last bit, looking around to make sure no one heard them.

"Girls from our sorority slept with him?" Y/N prods deeper, furrowing her eyebrows. This sorority has a good name of keeping to their values, it's reputation indisputable. That's the main reason why Y/N's mother chose it.

Is it corrupt? Because girls can't keep their legs closed around frat guys?

Sara shushes her, using her right index finger as a signal for her to lean in.

"And once he's done, Grayson finds out and literally goes crazy. He was livid when he had to cut a few frats last year cause they slept with our girls who are no longer here. They were kicked out too. Ethan stayed because Grayson couldn't dump his brother. Grayson usually makes him do some embarrassing thing on campus and forgives him after." She explains in a hushed tone, kinking her eyebrow.

So, that’s what that awful song was. Ethan’s punishment.

"But Ethan's so hot, I'd literally give up this sorority in a heartbeat." She shrugs, walking up the stairs, leaving Y/N confused and stumbling up.

So, one twin is anal about everything and the other is a frolic with a mission to sleep with anything that moves which gets the first one pissed. Not the best combination, but a fair warning.

She reminds herself to thank Sara if this works out well for her.

Once they're up, Sara leads her to the bottom of the hall, opening a bedroom with a single bed. Those are extremely rare, usually reserved for THE sister and not a pledge. She lets Y/N in, stepping beside her, whispering.

"I'd let Grayson destroy me too if he wasn't so full of himself and actually spared anyone a second look."

To say Y/N's taken aback is an understatement, but she decides to roll with it. She's not susceptible to men's charms that easily.

Okay, maybe she's not immune, but she can behave.

I can!

The entire room is incredibly aesthetically pleasing. The walls are a golden yellow with several paintings giving it a wealthy vibe, the carpets are a gentle purple giving the room an open and airy look. The bed is unmade, her things stacked in boxes.

"I get a single bed room?" Y/N questions, frowning.

"You're a legacy. We don't get many legacies and so...special treatment. I'm not jealous." Sara sighs, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Maybe I am...Just a little bit." Sara chuckles, forcing a laugh from Y/N too.

"Get settled, relax and be ready in a white dress at the bottom of the stairs at 9 pm sharp." Leaving her alone in the room had Y/N jumping in her spot, overwhelmed with happiness. She does a happy dance, landing like a leaf with a sway on her bay window, looking out only to find someone's been watching.

Grayson.

He laughs, the sound of his booming voice reaching her easily through the open window and she glares at him, pouting.

He shakes his head in amusement, giving her that tiny, teasing wave once more.

"Hey there, clumsy. Fancy meeting you here." He shouts from his window and in panic, Y/N pulls down her curtains, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Staying away might be harder than I thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @godlydolans @fallinginlove-16 @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid @dinnerwiththedolans

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins au #dolan twins greek god au #dolan twins fic #dolan twins fanfic #ethan dolan series #grayson dolan series

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batomarbo · 4 years

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Why We Hunger for Novels About Food

While putting imaginary meals on the page, I have thought a great deal about the central role that food plays in our lives. Food is love. Food is conviviality. Food is politics. Food is religion. Food is history. Food is consolation. Food is fuel. Food identifies us and who we are. It can even help us make sense of our world. We live in a culture where food porn is one of the hottest hashtags and seeking out the best new ramen or avocado toast trend is a more popular hobby than collecting stamps. And the “culinary enthusiasts” among us can’t get our fill of books about food.

But what about authors of food fiction? What compels them to write about what—and how—we eat?

Louise Miller, author of The Late Bloomer’s Club “Food is the great equalizer—everyone eats—and what we eat and how we eat it can be so emotional and can carry deep meaning. Food can also be so revealing. I remember an old New Yorker cartoon that pictured a mother and her young daughter sitting in a restaurant looking at a menu. The mother responds to her daughter’s question: ‘Chocolate pudding? I think you would like it. It’s a lot like chocolate mousse.’ That one line tells us so much!”

Phillip Kazan, author of Appetite “Food for me is very tied up with memories of my Greek grandmother, whose tiny kitchen in London was a treasure-house of tastes and smells in the grey, flavorless world of ‘60s and ‘70s England, where olive oil was something you had to buy from a pharmacist as a cure for earache. Presumably the pharmacist in our village thought our family had appalling ear problems, because my mother bought hundreds of his tiny bottles of oil for her cooking. I remember cookbooks as this wonderful escape route to exotic, warm, generous places: Greece, from where relatives would visit with huge tins of olives and bags of sugared almonds; or India, where my father was born. Writing, in a way, is an extension of my cooking, and vice versa. Cooking taught me how to create, that I needed to create.”

Randy Susan Myer, author of Waisted “I grew up in a family where food was the comforting evil (or the evil comfort). My mother—for whom dress size was the holy grail—watched every bite I took. When in a restaurant, first she’d not order what she wanted and then she’d steal bites from my plate. If I protested, she’d say, ‘If you love me, you’ll share your food.’ Often, we barely had food in the house and meals were haphazard at best. My sister snacked on raw Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I ate uncooked matzo meal. We lived on cold cereal—which to this day is my top comfort food. My mother hid cookies and cake inside our giant pressure cooker and then put the pot on the very top of our already high cabinets. My sister and I were under ten, but a pressure cooker was no match for us. I’m surprised we didn’t become mountain climbers for how often we scampered up the peaks leading to buried sweets.”

Ramin Ganeshram, author of The General’s Cook “I’m from an immigrant family. My parents were from two countries that, at the time, had little representation here in the U.S.—even in New York City where I was born and raised. My dad was from Trinidad and Tobago and my mother was from Iran. I was also brought up in a time where people still really tried to assimilate so they downplayed their native culture with their kids. The one thing that remained a solid connection was the food we ate. I realized from a young age that I could get my parents to talk about their homes when we were eating the foods they had prepared from their respective cultures. My father, particularly, was a born storyteller and if you could talk with him while he was cooking you would get the best stories.”

Whitney Scharer, author of The Age of Light “The main character in my novel is based on Lee Miller, a woman who reinvented herself multiple times in her life—first as a model, then a photographer, and finally as a gourmet chef who wrote for Vogue and other women’s magazines of the day. In all my research about her, there was never any mention of her love of food prior to her becoming a chef. This makes no sense to me. Of course, she must have loved food—and she moved to Paris in 1929, where she would have enjoyed meals quite different—and presumably more delicious—than what she ate growing up in Poughkeepsie. I wanted her love of food to be palpable throughout the novel, both to foreshadow her shift to cooking later in life, but also because I think enjoying food—enjoying the pleasures of the body—is integral to who she is as a character. I see Lee Miller as a woman of voracious appetites: she was hugely ambitious and adventurous, and very sexual. Food seemed like another way to understand her overall hungers.”

Charlie Holmberg, author of Magic Bitter, Magic Sweet “In writing, I think food is an excellent method of transportation. If I were to detail a table setting with food you’ve never heard of, but I describe a flaky crust, the way a gelatin gives underneath a knife, and the smell of burnt sugar, you are there. You smell and taste and see that meal. It gives a story, ancient magical tales included, a sense of realness.”

David Baker, author of Vintage “A dish is a story . . . it’s the story of the culture that created it, the person who made it, the story of the ingredients and where they’re from, the tale of the meal’s creation—successful or otherwise—and then of sharing it. The whole process is a form of narrative. The same goes for wine . . . it’s the story of millions of years of geology that created the region where the fines grow. It’s the story of the culture of the region and then a time capsule of what happened weather-wise the year in which the grapes ripened, and finally what the winemaker did during that year. There are so many layers of narrative in food and wine that it’s a rich field for exploration in writing.”

Amy Reichert, author of The Coincidence of Coconut Cake “I didn’t realize I was a food writer until after people responded to my novels, and I’ve embraced it. One of my favorite parts of writing has become sharing my regional cuisine with them—writing about Wisconsin culinary delights like a Door County fish boil or our classic brandy old-fashioneds. It’s one of the ways I share my love of Wisconsin.”

Marjan Kamali, author of The Stationery Shop “It happened quite organically—pardon the pun. But it’s impossible for me to write about Iran and Iranians without including a lot of food because the preparation of huge meals is an integral part of the culture, and sharing those meals at feast-like parties is common across the classes. Food takes on added significance for my characters because they are displaced from their original home. They are Iranians living in America. There is a longing for the familiar foods they know and a constant search for ingredients they love. Cooking Persian meals links my characters to their past and heritage. Sharing Persian food with Americans is a way for them to create and deepen new relationships.”

Jenna Blum, author of The Lost Family “While I was writing The Lost Family, I cooked a lot—to meditate on the day’s writing as well as to kitchen-test all the recipes I then featured on the book’s menu. Some of my favorite lines for the book would bubble up that way, as if from a Magic 8-Ball, and one of them was ‘vegetables have no language.’ I revised this slightly for the novel, but it means that food is universal. The produce and spices will vary from country to country and cuisine to cuisine, but if you love food, you have a vast family out there. We can all communicate about how our beloved dishes are different—and how they are the same.”

I myself have been smitten with books about food since a friend of mine recommended that I read M.F.K. Fisher decades ago. I devoured The Art of Eating and everything else she had written. In her books I found both the exotic and the comfortable. I had never been to France or eaten escargot, but I reveled in her descriptions of food, in her use of simple phrases to evoke such specific sensations: “The air tastes like mead in our throats,” she writes in The Art of Eating. I hope to stir the same feelings and create the same sensory pleasures in others with my novels about famous culinary figures in Italian history.

Now this is a book I can really sink my teeth into, I thought as I once read the opening paragraph of The Flounder by Nobel prizewinner Gunter Grass.

Ilsebill put on more salt. Before the impregnation there was shoulder of mutton with string beans and pears, the season being early October. Still at table, still with her mouth full, she asked, “Should we go to bed right away, or do you first want to tell me how when where our story began?”

The rest of the novel, which tells the story of an immortal fish who meets an immortal man who falls in love with cooks over and over through the centuries, is just as delicious and delightful in its descriptions of food. To this day, it’s one of my favorite novels.

In reading The Flounder and other sumptuous works of culinary fiction, I’m reminded of something dramatist George Bernard Shaw once said: “There is no love sincerer than the love of food.” It’s a statement to which I think we could all gladly raise a glass.

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