Untitled (2016-11-29)

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We were us, once, in the beginning. Not two, but halves of a whole, a set, together.

But now you are you and I am me and we are not always us. Now, sometimes, when you say we you don’t mean you and me. You mean you and them.

Them: a group without me. But not necessarily without you.

Once, that never crossed our minds.

Our and we and us. Oh, how things have changed.

—

Love is a choice. Blood is a fact. Affection is a feeling.

So is attraction.

Some choices are made for us, guided down this path. Family means coexisting, cooperation–love makes that easier, paves the way. Choices, function, together.

Affection makes love easy, too.

Attraction might… but it also might not.

—

Attraction starts in the eyes (the ears, the fingertips), settles in the heart, then lays siege to the mind.

I’ve seen it in the faces of people around you, the ones who lean toward you helplessly, flowers toward the sun.

Attraction is a force, magnets and gravity, unstoppable and universal.

Except, it seems, not for you.

—

I am not above attraction. Not that it is something lowly. It simply is, whether it is actually simple.

Like with other people, I can feel attraction. The curve of a smile, the sound of a voice, the heat between skin on skin.

In this, I am part of them. In this, we means me but not you.

In this, attraction is what sets us apart.

~

A/N: … I was trying a thing for filling this prompt, but it… kinda didn’t work as I wanted. So that prompt is still un-filled, but I didn’t want to just delete this… and, well, since it’s so vague as to be anyone, I guess this isn’t really DoS recursive fanfiction either? Urgh…

Post Word Count: 247, Running Word Count: 10438

I really like your Year With The Moon ficlets! The protagonist is pretty unique in getting a sandshrew, and the dissociation in her life before starting in the Pokemon journey felt very realistic.

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Really? I’m honestly surprised. I appreciate it, but I’m bewildered. Like… I admit, with most of my series, I don’t really have much of a plan, but A Year With The Moon especially I have no idea what I’m doing.

Part of me doesn’t want to derail completely from canon considering Ember wouldn’t actively do that in order to make sure Ash develops similar enough to canon that he can be in those key points to save the world (much like how Shikako is particularly hands off with Naruto in comparison to Sasuke). But that does mean that I would have to go the Dreaming of Sunshine route of somehow reiterating canon material while elevating it and I honestly do not think I have the writing chops for that.

Because. Wow. Dreaming of Sunshine is fantastic. It is just. I mean, obviously, I wouldn’t write so much recursive fanfic of it if I didn’t love it so much. But it is way above my skill level. Just. Wow. SQ’s ability to world build within a set world, the way they not just use fillers but turn filler episodes into emotionally charged arcs, I’m just. O_O

Ideally, A Year With The Moon would by like that. Actually, ideally, a lot of my series would be like that (I also have Into Thin Air which is FFVII Cloud’s twin Windy, I have Counterpoise and B*tch Please which is Naruto and Akamaru’s twin respectively, I have a couple of other SI!OCs or just regular OCs who aren’t twins in various fandoms…)

But, like I said, I don’t have the writing chops for that. Part of it is, I’ll admit, commitment. SQ puts in a lot of time and effort of researching and outlining for DoS which I do not do with A Year With The Moon–could I? Probably, yes. If I put other things to the wayside and focused solely on this series. Will I? Probably not any time soon.

A lot of this blog is me expelling ideas that come to me during the day–I move between fandoms and writing styles fairly frequently. Maybe one day I’ll be able to hone in on one series and go to town on it, but for now A Year With The Moon will have to suffer from being my last second, “oh god I need to put a post up, let me get a word prompt, hm okay Pokemon?”

Sorry, to-someplace-else, I didn’t mean to rant at you. I appreciate that you like the series, and A Year With The Moon does have a surprising soft spot in my heart too (my very first fandom was Pokemon), but unfortunately I don’t think I can do the series justice any time soon and give it the attention it deserves :/

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A one person love story.
No, I’m not Narcissus, lost to my reflection,
ignorant and apathetic to the world.
But, statistically, my “type” averages out
to “myself.”

Of the five times I’ve fallen in love,
three of five were female.
And three (and a half) were in the same,
broad “please check one of the following”
ethnicity.

With boys, I get tongue-tied,
starstruck by their looks, their kindness.
I shy away, and appreciate from afar.
Blush high on my cheeks,
skin aching.

With girls, I draw closer, mesmerized.
Like a moth toward flame, cliche but true.
Personalities clicking, friendship building,
daydreaming of hypothetical futures
together.

I’ve never looked at any of them
and experienced lust, heat coursing
through my veins, tongue tingling,
as if I’ve drunk the sweetest cocktail,
lingering.

But perhaps, I’d think, if they wanted,
if we ever got that close, if they asked,
fingertips branding desire onto me,
then I’d give it a shot, at least once,
curious.

And then follows, our play house lives,
date nights and meeting families.
How would you-me-two become us-one?
Apartments, and pets, and chore sharing,
compromises.

The problem with being a writer,
stories woven and outlines drafted,
before anything happens in reality.
Futile and foolish, just like every other
love story.

jacksgreyson, Untitled (2016-11-28)

Word Prompts (R27): Reunion

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This isn’t her story, this is her brother’s, but when the PokeCenter’s alarms blare–intruders, warning, the Center has been breached–she can’t just sit by and let him fight alone.

Especially since Pikachu is still injured.

They’re not heroes yet, it’s just their first day, she’s not interfering she’s helping.

And plus, she thinks, as Gary steps forward, gesturing his Squirtle who looks equally eager for a fight, it’s not her that will be the problem.

“Squirtle, water gun!”

Ember looks at Team Rocket, live and in the flesh, real–or, at least, as real as this world may or may not be. If they weren’t actively attacking a PokeCenter and trying to steal injured Pokemon, she’d smile.

Team Rocket was iconic–almost as much as Ash and Pikachu–they were misfits who were still good people despite their crimes. Outcasts from society who had made a mishmash family of their own and she can’t say that hadn’t appealed to her before.

But she already had a family and, for now, they needed her.

“Sandshrew, scratch!”

—

Gary has grown up with Pokemon his entire life–his grandpa’s lab as much a home as their actual house and the Ketchum’s house–but he’s never seen a Pokemon that can talk like a human.

Even while battling, he can be bewildered and impressed.

It’s not that Pokemon can’t understand human language–even the least intelligent of species can understand what humans are saying in intent if not quite exact definitions, and psychic types with telepathy can communicate directly to humans–but physically they can’t articulate enough to say words.

Or, well, they shouldn’t be able to.

Or, at least, Gary’s never heard of one doing so and he’s pretty sure his grandpa wouldn’t keep something like that secret.

“Hey, me-ouch, that hurt!” the Meowth says, paw to his face. Gary isn’t sure if that pun was intended or not. If the Meowth knows it even was a pun.

Arceus, Gary might be having some kind of existential crisis right now.

~

A/N: … argh, sorry, okay, i just… this is all i have for now… 

Post Word Count: 330, Running Word Count: 9978

Scarred Faith and Hope ficlet (2016-11-26)

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Normally, Toby–no, Tiberius–wouldn’t be standing back and letting all the talking happen without him. Then again, normally it wouldn’t be talking, given whenever he’s involved things tend to get out of hand.

Hence, “Overkill.”

But he’s not just by himself anymore, he’s got Angelo to take care of. Angelo, who is gripping tightly to the hood of his jacket, head pressed against his back.

Claustrophobia and halted elevators do not mix.

But, well, the lawyer’s office they were coming to see is on the fifty second floor and no way was Tiberius going to walk up that many steps.

It seemed smart at the time.

“Hey, it’s cool, it’s okay,” he says to Angelo, turning around even though that puts his back to everyone else in the elevator. Puts his back to Lau who, on multiple occasions, has arrested him for whatever bounty may be on his name at any given moment.

“I’m here, you’re not alone, I’ve got you,” he continues, wrapping an arm around Angelo’s shoulders. “Your parents aren’t here.”

Rich people, man. Rich does not mean good.

—

Once Sol is back on his feet, the young woman removing her arm and taking a step back, Fred takes his own turn at interrogating Sol just with less hostility.

“Sol,” he says, patience and belied by the tightening of his fists, “You come to me, ask me to visit you, my old friend, and then what? Trap us and these fine people in an elevator? What is it that you think this will accomplish?”

He can hear the shifting of the other passengers, cloth rustling, murmurs between the two boys. Well, perhaps one of them is not a boy, but in comparison to you and Sol, all of the other passengers would be kid… Especially the one that is still an actual kid.

Sol shakes his head, looking contrite, “Fred, I have brought your here under false pretenses, though it is always good to see you. It has been too long since we last met.”

The young woman crosses her arm, the creaking of leather ominous.

“I would not pull you out of retirement, Fred, or disturb all of you,” Sol says, addressing the other passengers, “were I not in dire straights.”

“This is a shitty way to ask for a favor,” the young woman says, “And I don’t work for free.”

At this, Sol smiles, “Now who ever said it would be for free?”

~

A/N: Tiny thing a couple minutes late, my bad!

Post Word Count: 406, Running Word Count: 9648

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we are like glass:
dancing figurines at first,
stained sunlight shining,
dust motes sparkling and brave.

and then we were shards,
trying to be clockwork gears,
but only scratching and scraping
at each others’ edges

trial by fire,
turned us molten,
made us stronger,
bright and changeable

shattered. salvaged. transformed.
but we are no longer part of a set

—

four panels
four seasons
four elements
four daughters

oh, look how we fell apart

painted wood and polished stone
flowers in vases forever preserved
four panels, parallel and proud

movement, months passing,
winds changing pace
trees swap colors like dresses
the sun says farewell

i was born with water in my lungs,
burn scars decorating my skin,
bones growing, breaking, healing,
i breathe, i speak, i remember

we fall

—

why do i have so many goddamned clothes?

costumes and uniforms and disguises,
hanging, waiting, ready
colors bright and patterns bold,
fabrics thin and smooth, thick and warm,
dresses, skirts, suits, shorts,
plumage of an ever changing bird

no, this is ridiculous, i have too many clothes

jacksgreyson, Untitled (2016-11-25)
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writing-prompt-s:

You are in a typical awkward elevator ride with a group of other people, suddenly a man says “So, I bet you are wondering why I’ve gathered you here” before hitting the emergency stop button.

Scarred Faith and Hope ficlet (2016-11-24)

XingYan is closest, fastest, and–as the rest of the team will later learn–easiest to anger. She has the man shoved into the corner, forearm pressed his throat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks the man, at the same time one of the other passengers shrieks the same to her.

The man wheezes, but otherwise doesn’t protest the chokehold. In fact, it’s someone else that tries to pull her away.

“Now, now,” says a different man, skin wrinkled not from age but from rough living. His clothes are worn, too, frayed and faded, but clean. He doesn’t put a hand on her, but he steps closer, near to insinuating himself between them.

Ex-military, XingYan reads in his stance. Commander, she hears in his tone.

“Why don’t we all settle down? Step back and let him explain himself. I’m sure Sol has a reason for all this.”

She might be able to take both of them in a fight, but she has no idea about the other passengers–which way they might fall if it comes to blows, if they can even help or if they’ll just be liabilities.

XingYan gives them space.

—

Minerva stays quiet, doesn’t bring any attention to herself, watches and waits and plans. If this ‘Sol’ has trapped her here with a purpose, then she wants to know what that purpose is. As well as who the hell these others are that they’ve all been gathered together for that purpose.

She begins researching, glasses faintly glowing as she pulls up browser windows, fingertips tapping silently against her palms. Lau XingYan is easiest to identify–unsurprising, considering they’ve worked together before.

Minerva is XingYan’s go-to for a hacker during bounty hunts, and on the rare occasion when Minerva needs something done in meatspace that she can’t handle herself, she calls XingYan.

Provided it’s not too illegal, of course.

The others take a little more digging.

Minerva has backdoors in Cascadia’s police database, and it doesn’t take too long to shake out the name of one Toby Kelly, alias ‘Tiberius Overkill,’ who has been repeatedly arrested but never convicted on multiple charges of breaking and entering, petty and grand larceny, and, on one occasion, arson.

Considering the description of his personality, she’s surprised he’s staying out of the altercation, but perhaps that has more to do with the younger man–kid, really–that he’s trying to hide with his own body. Not that it’s hard, really, Kelly is quite tall while the kid… isn’t.

The kid is harder to find anything on, but given most minors wouldn’t have much of a record, it’s not too unexpected. What is unexpected is what she finds on the kid–not a burgeoning juvenile record as she would have expected from someone hanging out with Kelly.

The kid is Angelo Reyes, runaway heir to SOFCO, the largest and most successful company in the Pacific Northwest.

~

A/N: New series? *shrugs*

Post Word Count: 480, Running Word Count: 9064

D’aww, your Dreaming of Soulmates was cute (and surprisingly suspenseful?) good job, thoroughly enjoyed!

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

Thanks! There’s something about soulmate AUs that make even innocuous sentences into multi-layered statements, isn’t there? Or like, a way to reinterpret a scene through the lens of soulmate AUs that adds more context to their first meeting.

In most soulmate AUs, you’re destined to meet your soulmate (first words and the countdown timer imply first meeting, the red thread can literally lead you to them) so the suspense is that it’s kind of “hey, I’ve been waiting for you even though I didn’t know it was you I was waiting for” … if that makes any sense?

Is it wrong of me to kind of wish that they had walked right passed Shikako’s team (completely by way of a Team 7-style accident, of course), and she did a spit-take of some kind and sputtered out “Obi-Wan Kenobi!?” in absolute shock? Like, I really like the story you seem to be gearing up to tell (and I don’t want to come across as telling you to change it, I’m not, Stars Also Dream is super cool), but that’s the mental image I get every time you update the story.

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I understand that wish, anon. It’d definitely be an entertaining story (if not quite the story I want to write), because then it’d be Yoshino and Shikako staring at each other like… “Shikako, how do you know what Obi-Wan Kenobi looks like?” and “OMG Mum, are you a Jedi?” and it’d be a delightful clash of both of their greatest secrets. 😀