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imnotasuperhero · 2 years ago

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Deep, in the dark, you’ll surrender your heart.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: What started like a playfull banter leading to a nightstand, turned into something else in the span of hours. (There’s a small part containing smut that I set the font in cursive and it doesn’t affect the story if you scroll past it)

A/N: I’ve gotten this request Tuesday night and it refused to leave my mind untill I created it, so here it is! An over 4k gigant that had taken a night off my life, literally. I’ve been writing and planning since last night at 8pm and It’s past 7 am now, which I hope helps you dismiss any possible mistake since my two braincells are squeezing their fuel thank. Enjoy!

“I agree. That specific shade should be garnet instead of burgundy.” You commented, leaning into the stranger sitting at a barstool with her sight lost into space.

“I-” The body in front of you stood petrified for a few seconds too long. “What?” Frowned the brunette looking back at you with a quizzical expression.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for so long I thought you were analyzing it.” You shrugged. “Is this seat taken?”

“See if I care.”

You smirked, asking the beardy man for your drink.

“Interesting choice you went for,” the woman beside you noted, clearly hearing your order.

“You see, when you’re in my line of work, you’re forced to combine things even in random aspects of your life.” You spoke confidently, determined to try a new bed tonight.

“That’s so, huh?” The green eyes beauty sipped from her drink, and you felt your legs tremble at the ghosting smirk perched on her lips.

Thanking the man, you dragged your glass in her direction. “Wanna try it?”

“How do I know you didn’t pay the guy to roofie me?”

Clicking your tongue, you faked your best deception look. “Damn it. You’ve got me.”

The playful smile on those red lips captivated you in ways you never thought possible. “If something happens to me, know that you’ll have to watch your back for life.”

“I’m good at defending myself,” you winked, earning a hearty laugh from her.

Seeing in anticipation how the stranger brought your cocktail to her lips, you choked at the low moan she breathed after the cold, sour drink collided against her taste buds. “I see you know what you want,” she nodded just to take the drink out of your reach. “Nu-uh, this is mine.”

“Am afraid it won’t be free,” you warned, and you patted yourself on the back when you noticed the stealthy deep intake of breath she took.

“Is it beet what I taste?” She scrunched her nose in a way that made you smile.

The following hours were spent talking with that beautiful woman that has taken your breath away from the other side of the bar in which you met your friends at. You could always rain check for another day.

Wanda, as she introduced herself, was a woman of many achievements and the CEO of some growing interior design company located on the outskirts of Manhattan island and, just like you, she didn’t lack the guts to do whatever she pleased which, being honest, you embraced with open arms.

Sending a quick text to Charlie, you extended your arms, smirking when Wanda accepted the gesture, after considering it for a moment.

To say the distance to her place was taking so long was an understatement. Luckily the car had a tinted window that separated the driver’s space from you both, not that you would mind if it didn’t. Lord knows the things you’ve done in the backseat of multiple taxis.

Wanda’s intoxicating lips casted a spell on you for all you could do was try to win the prevailing war between you both. Your hands rummaged upwards, squeezing with just the right force, taking a throaty moan out of her.

But what had you gasping was the sudden weight on your laps.

“Someone’s needy,” you rasped, moving your lips from her lips down her throat, kissing and sucking on her pulse point.

“You’re the one who drugged me,” Wanda moaned, moving her hips against your bare thigh.

Moaning, you grabbed her waist, guiding her through the chasing. “In my defense, you were warned,”

“Shut your smartmouth and kiss me.”

But before you could do so, the car came to a stop, making her grunt. “Hurry up,” she commanded moving off of you, waiting to exit the car.

After she got out, you quickly closed the door, following her to the entrance of the captivating facade.

The simple yet strong lines of the elements conformed an appealing look, calling you to understand the unique blend of the different textures intricated in a good-looking puzzle of warm colors.

“Nice contrast,” you commented, scrutinizing every single aspect of the exterior of the house in front of you.

“I can give you a tour later,” Wanda spoke a few feet from you, the expectation clear in her green eyes.

“Right,” you rushed inside, not able to scold yourself for admiring the modern style.

“The way you chose abstract-” you stopped mid-sentence when Wanda’s slender finger burned the skin on your lips.

“Less talking, more kissing.” She smiled something impatiently.

“Yes, ma’am.” You smirked, capturing her lips once more, re-exploring every single spot you could reach.

Stumbling through your steps, your hands held tightly onto Wanda’s hips, your fingers itching to be in contact with the softest sking you could only imagine in your dreams.

“Zip,” she indicated as her hands reached for yours.

Doing a quick job of the zip at her back, you broke apart from her lips, looking intently into the darkened green eyes as your hands brushed the thigh fabric down her pale skin.

You could only gasp as your eyes ran down her body excruciatingly slowly, determined to take in her natural beauty.

Once her black dress was discarded on the floor, you quickly strip to your underwear to then push her softly to the bed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you vowed looking at Wanda in her birth suit, fusing with the sea green of her silky sheets.

Smiling softly, Wanda took your hand, bringing you on top of her. “Show me.”

You didn’t need more indication than these words for the hungriness inside you roared at the hallucinating taste of her lips.

Your tongue fought against hers, in a game of dominance that only the strongest one would win. You constricted the muscle of your thigh against her core as Wanda’s hips bucked upwards with expertise, coating your warm skin with the sticky substance and you made a mental note to taste her. But for now, you worshiped her body like the goddess she was.

The sheets wrinkled in her fists as your teeth marked her burning skin, sending her into a spiral full of ecstasy.

The painful moan she released when you moved forward just right enough had you grumbling at the need taking over you.

“Don’t hold back,” you ordered her, kissing her as deep as you could, not having enough of her. The tips of your fingers itched with electricity the more your hands explored her lustful body, and the willpower to keep her wanting was dropping critically fast.

With one last kiss to her lips, you began a long but enjoyable trip down the sea of warm, smooth skin, feeding a hunger you didn’t think you could ever fill.

Sloppy, wet kisses pampered Wanda’s skin, sending her to cloud nine as she gave into the pleasure you provided her, turning her into a complete mess under you.

The nails dipping on your back took a guttural grunt out of you, which only served for you to bite just above her pert nipple. You smiled when Wanda trembled under you, jotting down your discovery on your mind for later use.

“Please,”

“Hmm?” You growled, too busy sucking on her pinky nipple, as your free hand pinched and massaged her other.

“I need you,” Wanda cried softly, thumping hard against your overcoated thigh.

Sighing expectantly, you left her breast with a pop.

Looking up, you made sure Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours as you descended through her sternum down to her lower stomach, amazed by the utter craving reflected in her darkened pupils.

A primal moan escaped you when your tongue lapped at her folds, your taste buds coated in that elixir you’ve got the pleasure to discover.

Not getting enough of it, you poked and licked every single corner you could reach, enjoying the animalistic moans coming from over you.

“Oh, fuck!” Wanda cried when your tongue entered her. “Don’t stop.”

Grunting, you obliged.

She asked you to show her your devotion, and you just did that for a few more rounds, until she asked you for mercy.

“You sure you can’t give me one more?” You smirked against her lips, gradually slowing the pace of your fingers after guiding her through her fall.

“Maybe later,” she wrapped her arms around your neck, bringing you closer to her, enjoying the mixed warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Giggling, you decided to give up. Propping yourself on your elbow half on top of Wanda, your hand started to draw invisible patterns on her chest, quietly listening to her humming.

“Wonder what other qualities you withhold,” Wanda mused, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between you two a few moments ago.

“Not to brag about, but I’m doing well in life,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

At the silence settling once again, you looked from the hand in her chest to Wanda’s eyes, questioning silently.

“Go on a date with me,”

Your fingers stop mid-movement as those words sunk in. She wanted… more?

“I don’t do dates,” you shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand to your personal space.

“It doesn’t mean marriage, you know?” Wanda frowned at your refusal.

“I don’t care. I’m not looking for more than what this is. A nightstand only.” You remarked on every word, making sure she understood.

You heard her sigh pregnantly as you stood up, dressing up.

“Do you even know who I am?” the brunette stood up, too, walking around the bed to reach you.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” you hissed internally at those words. “I’m not interested.”

“I’m Wanda fucking Maximoff! You should be glad I looked at you,” the woman stepped forward, sending chills down your spine. The look in those green eyes that held so much glint a few moments ago shifted to one of anger. Her body stance alerted all your senses and you choked at the need to win the match once again, fucking that rage away.

Instead, you grabbed her shoulders, moving her closer just enough.

“Goodbye, Wanda fucking Maximoff.” You walked away, leaving a steamy Wanda behind.

A week passed since your encounter with Wanda and she hadn’t been able to expel you from her mind. The captivating, mysterious persona you possessed had her hanging with unanswered questions that, with the way you gave but held back, only seemed to grow by the minute. And the plans and documents she had on her desk only added to the headache her eyes were acquiring the more she looked at the different colors and textures.

‘I need you’ she sighed sending the text, turning around in her chair to enjoy the skyline in front of her. The imaginary finger scratching at her brain was getting the best of her, affecting her work.

The grasp on her phone faltered for a moment as the chiming startled her.

‘It’s an easy day. Come over to the bakery and we’ll talk.’ Wanda smiled gladly. She knew she could always count on her friend.

Stepping into the chilly air of mid-October, Wanda snuggled into her velvety coat and decided against driving. It was just a few blocks away and she knew for sure she could use some oxygen.

“I ordered your usual,” the redhead greeted as Wanda took a seat at their designated table.

“You’re a blessing,” the brunette thanked. “I was praying you were free.”

“That bad, huh?” Natasha smiled pitifully.

“Remember I hooked up with a girl last week?”

Wanda wasn’t someone to avoid subjects. She didn’t had the time nor the strength to kick around the bush. Much less when it was something that took over her whole life.

“Thank you,” Natasha thanked the young girl placing their food at their table. “She’s stalking you?” The smirk on the redhead’s lips made Wanda’s blood boil. “You should get used to it by now, Wands. Or better yet, create an alter ego.”

“Haha, very funny.” Wanda snarled, taking a bite of her cinnamon roll. “She basically discarded me like some piece of-”

“As your best friend, you had it coming a long time ago, babes.”

Those words ricocheted through her mind, suddenly realizing some… no. She was a goddess and everyone knew her worth.

“I’m serious, Nat! She didn’t even allow me to ask her out.” Wanda cringed at the whine in those words. You’ve come around like a brick wall and all she wanted to do was to climb it up.

And boy, did you come.

Wanda looked up from the sweet treat on her plate at the sound of the voice that haunted her since the day you left.

“Y/N!” The brunette witnessed quietly how -her- Natasha stood up, hugging you as you giggled, unaware of her presence.

“Long time, no see.” You smiled, keeping an eye on the barista preparing your order.

“Dude, yes! I’m sorry for not going the other day-”

“You’re okay, Nat. I knew it was a long shot for you to be back in time.”

“Really. We can meet tonight if you want.”

The whole interaction panged at Wanda’s heart as she saw you interacting so carefree with someone who wasn’t her. And the fact Natasha had known you all this time didn’t ease the betrayal she was starting to feel.

“-Wanda.” The brunette came out of her reverie at the calling her name and she’d be lying if the look of indifference in your eyes sent her soul to the underworld.

“Hi,” you acknowledged her with a polite smile.

Before she could answer, you hurriedly kissed Nat’s cheek, claiming you were in a hurry and your order was ready.

The feeling of emptiness invaded Wanda once again, forming a lump in her throat.

“What’s wro- It’s her?” Natasha asked scandalized. Her green eyes wide open.

“That’s Y/N,” Wanda sighed, looking defeated at your attitude.

“Oh, my.” Natasha sat back down, her gaze full of pitiness. “I’m sorry, Wands. She’s… she’s out of reach.”

“You have to help me,” she begged.

To be honest, Wanda was tired of portraying someone she really wasn’t. She’s been for a while now. Her own past molded her to protect her heart and never let her naive self show again. But if the last few days served for something, was to show her she might have found the person she could trust her heart to. If only she could have you.

“I don’t know,” the redhead squeezed her hand supportingly.

”You know her, Nat. Why is she closed up to me?”

“It’s not you, Wanda.” Natasha smiled tenderly. “She… she has her own dilemmas, too. Just like you,”

Looking down at the design in front of you, you sighed tiredly as your mind seemed to refuse to let go of the encounter from hours ago. Wanda’s sad face was engraved into your retinas, making your chest inflate with something akin to sorrow with every breath you took.

But you’ve made your peace with your change of character. You valued yourself too much to be left as a second option for some businesswoman. That kind was never a nice feature.

You just couldn’t take the risk. Your heart weighed more than any pretty face with a killer body that invited you to their bed.

Thankfully, the knock on your door took you out of your head, smiling at the grumbling of your stomach as the time on your phone read 8 pm.

“Did I ever tell you I love you?” You greeted the redhead, grabbing the bags out of her hands.

“Once or twice, but it better be true for that cost me a lung,” Natasha smirked as she saw you licking your lips at the food in front of you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you shrugged, hurriedly placing both pairs of chopsticks beside the containers on the wooden coffee table.

“How about you design my future house for free?” Nat tried walking into the kitchen, looking for the cold bottle of wine and two glasses.

“You know you’ll need to buy me more than this, right?” You clicked your tongue, earning a laugh from your friend.

“We’ll discuss it another time,” she sat by your side on the floor, taking the remote to choose a movie.

Content, both of you decided on a lighthearted movie as you dig into the delicious sushi calling your name, commenting here and there throughout the whole duration.

The weight in your heart lifted a bit as you smiled at the peace the redhead provided you. No matter how long you’ve been apart, your friendship was always intact.

“So,” Natasha spoke as the credit rolled on the darkened screen. “Have you got an offer yet?”

“Still waiting,” you sipped from your wine, enjoying the tingly sensation.

“I might have found you a nice spot,”

“You what? For real?” Your eyes almost fell out of its sockets at the words. “Oh, my lord, Nat!” You launched yourself at a giggling redhead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It was nothing,” her long arms wrapped around your waist for a moment. “They asked if I knew someone and I thought of you.”

“You’re the best, really!” You gasped cheerily, breaking away from the hug.

You couldn’t fit more happiness in your chest. Granted, you still had to get interviewed and everything, but the idea of taking a break from the hustle of being your own boss looked like a great vacation after working solo for the last 2 years.

To say that night you were unable to sleep was an understatement for all your mind could think of was the different projects you’d direct for the next few years. No more deals with the clients nor complaints about prices.

Feeling optimistic, you looked at your reflection one last time before confidently walking out of your apartment with a steamy travel mug of coffee in hand. The blasting music coming from the speakers of your car had your head bobbing at the beat, adding to the feeling of pure joy you experienced.

But said joy muted into nervousness as you stepped through the floor-to-ceiling doors of the building. The bodies scattered around unbothered by your presence.

“Hi,” you greeted the lady at the front desk. “I’m here for the design team director’s interview?”

“One minute, please.” The blonde smiled warmly before tapping away on her keyboard. “Take the elevator to the third floor, then walk straight to the office at the back.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, fasting your grip on the strap of your portfolio bag as you walked the directions you were given.

Stopping by, you knocked on the ginormous wooden door, you straightened yourself, confident enough to not think about the looks the people working on that floor were giving you.

You prayed silently as the muffled voice on the other side invited you to come in.

But all the nervousness and expectations you had flew outside the window at the woman sitting in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda gasped, standing up and walking slowly towards you.

You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to calm the turmoil forming inside of you.

“I should've known better,” you grunted thinking back on the comfortable space you found Natasha last Thursday. You should’ve known someone like Wanda wouldn't stop until she got what she settled her eyes onto.

“No, please stay.” Wanda hurried to the door, blocking your way.

“Is the position even open?” You changed your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the previous cheery feeling slipping through your body.

“It is,” Wanda said, hurt showing in her eyes. “It was just a coincidence Nat knows a potential talent to replace Julio.”

“I’m sure someone else will pop up,” you sighed, ignoring looking her in the eyes. The magnetic pull between you both, getting harder and harder to ignore.

“Please. Just give us a try. The company, I mean,” Wanda corrected herself.

Looking up to those green eyes that liked to hunt your dreams sometimes shined with hope and you couldn’t resist. Not when you had finished the last project and had nothing to do until you found something else.

“Whatever,” you walked over to the desk, unbeknownst to Wand’s toothy smile.

“Here are a few of my designs,” you handed her the black leathery folder, fighting the urge to pay attention to Wanda’s reaction to every page she inspected.

Focusing on every single detail in Wanda’s minimalistic office, you quietly calmed your erratic heart as you dried your hands on your jacket.

After a few minutes of silence, the brunette hummed approvingly and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“They’re really good, Y/N,” Wanda smiled proudly at you and you felt your heart do a somersault at the look in her eyes. “I like how detailed your lines are.”

“Thank you,” you smiled shyly.

“I have a question, though,” Wanda closed the folder and placed it on her desk, her intertwined hands over it. “I only see your designs lead towards the simplistic, detailed styles. How do you manage with Victorian style?” The perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in a criticizing way and could only stand still, hiding the unsettling tickles on your stomach.

Was that still ongoing? You knew there was always someone who wanted their place overcrowded with furniture that only served to suffocate you the longer you stayed inside the room. But never thought it was something this company specialized in.

“It makes me cringe, but I can put the client's wishes over my comfort,” you answered honestly.

“Good, because as the head of the interior design department, you must be open to things that give you nightmares.” Wanda smiled, trying to win your trust.

And that she did. Every new interaction she pulled out of you, served for you to see her as Wanda the person and not as your boss. With every project you both discussed, the closest you two became and what started like an overstay on a stormy night to finish some big project, turned into impromptu after-hour at least once a month. And Wanda couldn’t be prouder of herself for fooling you into deadlines that could easily be met the following day.

“Food is here,” Wanda informed you, walking towards the door. “Hope you feel like having Thai.”

“Sure,” you agreed, your attention focused on the different palettes of blues trying to find the right shade for this nursery. Unaware of Wanda’s soft gaze on you.

One of Wanda’s oldest clients asked for her to be the one who designed the brand new house he wanted to gift her daughter, and of course, she thought this was a great way to have you stay longer.

The more you opened up to her, the harder it was for Wanda to give up her hopes. And in consequence, the deeper she felt for you, like an innocent girl walking towards a spooky candy store filled with the sweetest treats you could imagine.

“Let’s take a break,” she suggested entering her office, looking at your couched form painting on the plan under you.

“It’s okay, I can multitask,” you shrugged.

Sighing, she walked over and took the coloring pencil off your hand. “I’m not asking,” she looked sternly at you.

“Fine,” you huffed, following her to the small sofa adjacent to her desk.

Allowing the comfortable silence that settled between you, Wanda ate her noodles thinking of the right way to say what she needed.

The curiosity was taking the best of her and the fact that Natasha was secretive about it only added to the itching feeling eating her from the inside out.

“Can I ask you something?”

Wanda could only smile softly at the innocent look you gave her as you nodded with the chopsticks still in your mouth and a single noodle escaping your lips.

“Why you refuse to go on dates?” She braced herself for the stormy argument about to start.

Only, it never came.

“Why so insistent?” You swallowed, allowing your shoulders to fall.

“It’s the only thing that haunts me every moment since we hooked up,” Wanda explained honestly, seeing how your face shifted from discomfort to resignation.

“My ex was a lawyer. She always put her work over me, no matter how much I tried to get her to come home before midnight.” You spoke softly and Wanda felt a pang in her heart at the disappointment in your voice.

“After I stomp down my foot, I promised myself to never be the second option for someone else. If my girlfriend can’t stop working to come to our bed, then she could never be the right one.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda could only ache at your confession, the tugs at her heart only pulling further, imagining you alone in bed feeling so small in the nighttime.

“You know not everyone is the same, right?” She tried, tiptoeing into the idea forming in her mind.

“Says the one who stays after hours every other day,” you smirk.

“I don’t like being alone,” Wanda thought it was only fair to share her own issue.

Your small laugh got Wanda frowning. What could be funny about this?

“Nat would be all braggy about this,” you nodded in the negative. “She said we were meant to be,” you looked up at her and Wanda’s heart missed a few beats.

“Wouldn’t doubt that,” the brunette smiled at the thought of her friend teasing you equally as she did with her.

“Can I kiss you?”

If her heart was having trouble beating by itself, she was sure she now needed a cardiac pacemaker for the dizziness that appeared for a second or two.

Smiling brightly, the brunette launched herself at you, savoring the lips she’s dreamed of for so long.

“Is this some default movement?” You smirked as she settled on your lap.

“Oh, hush. It’s not like you don’t enjoy it,” Wanda countered attaching her lips to yours, not having enough of you.

“Does this mean I get to take you on a date?” She asked hopeful, after breaking the link for much-needed air.

The look of playfulness that she found in your eyes made her squeal in anticipation.

“One missed date, one late anniversary, hell; even one plan canceled at the last minute, I walk out of your life.”

Wanda could only nod frantically at the prospect of you having accepted her. The foggy dreams at the back of her mind cleared away as her determination lighted brighter than ever.

“You have my word,” she leaned down to seal the pact with a kiss.

She knew that it was too soon to jump into the pool. But having you in her arms after surrendering your heart to her, Wanda made it her mission to never leave you down. No matter what trouble she got in, she’s had the emptiness of her heart be filled by you and she couldn’t retribute you any other way than to put you first above anything else.

As always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #my writing #requested

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kittykatkatelol · 7 months ago

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★Welcome to my Hell lovelies<3

You can call me Daimon/Daímonas, Val/Valentino, Micah, John, Roxxas, Barty, Max/Maxwell, Makarov, or Jack

My pronouns include (but not limited to) it/itself, loverboy/loverboyself, moth/mothself, ne/nem, he/him, ve/vem, luv/luvself

I'm genderfluid + xenogenders + mspec biromantic lesboy ~ oriented aroace - asexual + ACRflux + greyromantic ~ physical nonhuman + fictionkin + demonkin + ockin + therian ~ cripplepunk ~ adhd + autism(?) ~ hellenic polytheist & satanist ~ multishipper

My links: A03 ~ Pronouns Page ~ StrawPage ~ Roblox and Discord for moots (ask over dms) ~ my memories of hell+my demon appearance ~ filter tag list ~ my rdr2 side blog @shhhhtotallynotmicahbell ~ DecoTree

I keep this blog PG - PG-13 ~ I curse like a sailor and might reblog or write suggestive shit , so please keep that in mind

The main content is shitposts + reblogs + occassional art and/or oneshot/fic update

thomas jefferson's (from hamilton the muscial) biggest fan - the number one hermes defender and adorer

My highest kin(s) is currently Micah Bell from RDR2 + Maxwell Roth from Assassin's Creed Syndicate + John Hancock from Fallout 4

My full kin list:

Valentino from Hazbin Hotel

Barty Crouch Jr from Harry Potter

Roxanne Afton a FNaF OC of mine

Micah Bell from Red Dead Redemption 2

Funtime Foxy from FNaF

Jack Kennedy from DSaF

Demonkin

Roxanne Wolf from FNaF Security Breach

White Persian Cat therain

Vladimir Makarov from the OG COD MW trilogy (specifically mw3)

Maxwell Roth from Assassin's Creed Syndicate

John Hancock from Fallout 4

(otherlink) Sylveon from Pokémon

(this is subject to change at any time)

My current fixations are currently:

Red Dead Redemption 2

Fallout

COD (just all of it it's a big special interest)

My favorite music artists are:

Scene Queen

Yungblud

Falling in Reverse

Palaye Royale

Marina

Melanie Martinez

Baby Bugs

Olivia Rodrigo

Måneskin

My fandoms/interests:

Hamilton (musical and historical)

EPIC the musical

Death Note

Heathers (both musicals and movie)

Little Nightmares 1 & 2

Fallout

FNaF

Cooking Companions

Percy Jackson (I have only finished the first series, and I do not want spoilers, hence why I don't interact with the fandom but i really like it lol)

Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss (literally no clue what the creator did but I don't support her since I watch it all pirated and don't have the money lmao)

Call of Duty (I love all the early stuff (haven't played any black ops though) but especially the original modern warfare)

SIX The Musical

DSAF (specifically the 1st and 2nd ones, I don't particularly enjoy the final one)

Red Dead Redemption 2

Heartstopper

My Little Pony

Legend of Korra

Current favorite songs:

(all of theses lists are subject to change at any time)

My time zone is US-EST ~ I am active on weekdays + weekends pretty much at all times ~ except Tuesdays , I'm pretty much busy from 11am - 3pm

I tend to use typing quirks (example: Hello ! / what ? / Hmm , / Huh .) or cursive fonts ~ please tell me if you need me to not use said quirk(s) when replying :)

I use tone tags quite often since I myself have a hard time figuring out other entities tones

DNI: anti-xenogenders/neopronouns ~ TERF ~ homo/transphobic ~ anti-fictionkin ~ anorexia/ED blogs ~ christian centered blogs ~ Valentino hate blogs ~ just assholes in general

My boundaries are:

no sexual stuff ~ I might be Val but that doesn't mean I like sex

no mouth gore/puke ~ i genuinely hate it and it makes me ill (I'm cool with most gore but mouth stuff just grosses me out)

no weight comments like ever, please

no sending things of dead moths

no sending me stuff specifically about Val getting tortured

no asking me to donate to stuff through asks, especially if I don't know you ~ I'm not financially independent and just don't have the cash even if I wanted to donate ~ any asks asking that will be deleted

I love being tagged in stuff, but if it is a picrew, I request you don't tag me in it IF it the whole game is "make irl you" or something along those lines

do not involve me in shipping wars

I am okay with Angel Dust kins interacting, but please do not try and befriend me

I request no fellow Valentinos try and befriend me (aka please no doubles)

Also, I do not support JKR (the creator of Harry Potter) though I am still in the HP and Marauders fandoms - I dislike Harry Potter itself and only engage in the fandom side of things that is also highly against JKR

User tags:

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fictionkin asks/answers (for any/all asks/questions I get related to fictionkin)

the moth attempts to learn french (shit posting about me trying to learn french)

banner and pfp are both from Fallout 4, in-game screenshots (banner is of Goodneighbor's Old State House)

I'm open to questions about my identity(s) ~ intro may update in the future ~ Other than that, have fun :)

✨️ to be cringe is to be free ✨️

. .

In all of my lives, I regret nothing.

I'd do it all again.

No hesitation.

Last up dated: 12/18/24

#val's little hellhole #intro post #I FINALLY DID MY INTRO #flashing warning #< for the blinkies & stamps at the bottom #Spotify

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months ago

Text

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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boyfhee · 6 months ago

Note

hii could you please give tips on how to find fonts for your fic banner + the the font you have in your tags and navigation page. i also want to know how to find aesthetic pictures like you find them. i also want to know what are the best times to post on tumblr, and i also want to know how do you over come writer's block and get ideas fpr your fics/headcanons. sorry if i am being a bother and sorry for asking too much. pls do ignore me if you dont have time. i am sorry

hello ^_^ please don't apologise for asking, i'm always ready to help if possible :]

— FONTS

for banners, i use canva and the fonts provided there. some of my favourites are abril fatface, bernoru, burgues script, charm, coterie, slight, more sugar, apricots. there are a bunch of free options so just hit and try to see which one suits your design the most

for tags and navigation, i use yaytexts. cursive one is the cursive script, paragraph of text on the pinned is in sans serif and title is in sans serif bold. you can scroll down the styles column to find these

— AESTHETIC PICTURES

i use pinterest and there is no way except searching and curating your feed. try to specify your searches as much as you can. some keywords are : white typography ( or any colour, ) [ brand ] aesthetic, [ colour ] gradient, acubi. try using visual search or reverse image search. you can download images from mood boards on tumblr too

— POST TIMING

you need to know your audience for this, as in their demographic distribution, when they are most active. for me, it's usually after 6 pm ist. to find yours, try posting at different times and see when you got the most notes in a specific period of time ( like an hour or two, or more maybe ) that is most likely when your readers are most active.

there isn't really a set way to find or maybe i don't know that yet, but another way to make sure your work reaches more audience is self reblogs. it simply means reblogging your work every few hours, preferably two or three ( you can schedule it ) to make sure it hits almost every timezone. the icymi tags are for this purpose only

— WRITER'S BLOCK

i get the worst writer's blocks and i literally force myself to write or else i will be posting once bimonthly TT what i recommend in writing whenever you get inspiration. it can be anywhere, you don't have to worry about grammar, vocabs or sentences, just jot down the ideas as soon as you get them.

another thing i do is read a lot. it helps me get back to writing, sometimes gives me inspiration. reading helps with vocabulary as well so that's double the benefit

— INSPIRATION

songs, movies, webtoons, prompts on tumblr or pinterest, books. you need to keep your brain juices flowing. try to think about how a single dialogue prompt can be used in fluff and angst works both, for example. sometimes, random scenarios come to me out of no where, but i think you will get there when you start writing / get in the flow of writing

alternatively, discussing with friends, other reads / writers, reading ( very important, i cannot stress enough ) can help you come up with ideas for fics. for headcanons, a thousand of them have been done you can literally start by picking one and doing your take on it.

#⠀ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ㅤㅤㅤsecrets & 𝒽er ฅ ฅ : anon

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k9effect · 2 years ago

Note

Heyyyyy :D

I'm curious... How exactly do you make a font??? What did you do to create the Maverick Font???? 😱😱😱😱

This is awesome btw! I'm going to use it to make him write cute letters!!!!! :P

Ayeee thank you!! Okay lemme do a break down of how I did it:

So this was all inspired by someone in another server saying they just traced some of the letters from his calendar for some art and I went "oh, I think I'm insane enough to make a whole font with absolutely no experience and only google!"

So I grabbed the calendar screenshot:

And from there I isolated as many letters as I possibly could to get a good reference for how he writes each letter. I organised it like this initially:

Obviously there was going to be missing letters. I managed to get 21/26 characters just from the calendar which was pretty sick! In hopes of getting the others, I figured I'd see what Tom Cruise's handwriting was like and see if it fits. I found one photo of a card he signed but I'm not 100% sure if the writing was actually his cause his handwriting is more curly and cursive. This is that card:

So then I ended up with this (I decided to do numbers as well):

From there i just started tracing the letters and writing them out myself to try and get ones that I liked and felt looked good and matched his style. I also wrote a bunch of notes analysing some of the letters so I could try and keep it consistent:

Planning Page looked like this in the end (I think you can zoom in on this one and read my notes loI):

From there I took the ones i liked the best, put it into a 1000x1000 canvas (probably an overkill size lol) and cleaned it up as nice as I could! I saved them all out as transparent PNGs:

Then I found a software, Calligrapher I believe, that creates fonts, downloaded the template, imported all the PNGs and made the punctuation I was missing and then uploaded it! Saved the files and here we are!

I honestly still can't believe I pulled this off, and from only one screenshot of his handwriting! I'm over the moon excited to see what people make with it!! I don't expect to be credited everytime someone uses the font or anything but I'd love to be tagged to see what people make!!

Thank you for the ask!!!

MAVERICK HANDWRITING FONT LINK HERE!

#sam answers #ask #redfurrycat #top gun 1986 #top gun fanart #top gun maverick #maverick #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #font #resource #reference #tom cruise #break down

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whlskr · 2 years ago

Text

My art program does not have a font tool, its Achilles heel. I do all the lettering myself, and it always looks so rough to me because I actually write in some sort of bastardized cursive.

It's either legible ugly or beautiful incoherence, much like life

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syn4k · 1 year ago

Note

Haii I checked out ur website for ashes and was bored so i modified like 3 things (in my browser) so if u want u can use the code!

<html><head> <meta charset="UTF-8"> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <title>The Ashes Homepage</title> <meta name="color-scheme" content="dark light"> <style> body { font-family: Comic Sans MS, Comic Sans, cursive; display: flex; flex-direction: row; } body > * { display: flex; flex-direction: column; padding: 5px; } </style> </head>

<body> <section id="about"> <h1>Ashes, The Website</h1> <h2>(because i needed to organize the links or else shit would get out of hand real fast)</h2> <p> Welcome to this extremely barebones Neocities that my friend Quincy gave me the idea to make! I know there's a really low chance that anyone would ever try and make a duplicate of it but just in case, hello this is the official thing, the person typing this is tumblr user/ao3 author extraordinaire darubyprincxx, but you can just call me/us Keys or Six.</p> <h3>So, what is this for and why does it even exist?</h3> <p>About eight months ago at the time of writing this, I started writing a fanfiction titled "(i'll tend to the flames, you can worship the) ashes" <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/42601899">over on ao3</a>, named after the chorus of <a href="https://youtu.be/crq-qc_r6Jk">this The Longest Johns song</a>. The fic is set in the aftermath of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIh39HoDzao&list=PLehe4fdjKD0-jvHil8N_5hpLDnA-u85mW">Empires SMP Season One</a> apocalypse and features characters played by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@GeminiTayMC">GeminiTay</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@fWhip">fWhip</a>, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@Pixlriffs">Pixlriffs</a>. The reason why I am up at 11:30 PM eight months later teaching myself HTML for this is because since then, I've talked about it a lot over on our Tumblr and done some things in other places as well. There's a whole ass playlist that can be found on two platforms, a dedicated tag for it on our blog, and even an unlisted YouTube video of us reading the first chapter of the fic.</p>

<p>Basically, the project has sprawled over quite a large portion of the Internet since we've started it, and I wanted to have a centralized place for all that external stuff for ease of access and also because the opening notes on the fic itself are getting really, <em>really</em> long.</p> <p>For now, this page will probably stay extremely bare-bones- just a couple of paragraphs of important shit, hyperlinks, and dark mode. I finally defeated dark mode. It is 12:45 AM and the site colors are successfully not flashbangy.</p> <div></div></section>

<section id="meta"> <h2>Links for Things About and Related To the Fic</h2> <ul> <li><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/42601899">Direct link to the fic on ao3</a> </li> <li><a href="https://darubyprincx.tumblr.com/search/ashes+au">Tag for the fic on our Tumblr blog</a> </li> <li><p>Fic Playlist </p> <ul> <li><a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOPTPqrotfhU6ln39eg1pG_qCzegoM0Ub">(YouTube)</a> </li> <li><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2HzC6x58YiSxyCr9Na0d6N?si=9486aaa1cf9048e5">(Spotify)</a> </li> </ul> </li> <li><a href="https://youtu.be/amnh3xAr_vw">Chapter One Narration (Unlisted)</a> </li> <li><p>Masterdoc (where we explain the nuances and symbolism and shit in the fic) [Coming Soon]</p> </li> </ul> <h2>Use Cases</h2> <p>I, the author of this work, give permission for those who wish to do so to download this fic for noncommercial uses such as sharing between friends or backing up physically for archival purposes, to make art (whether visual or musical) of scenes depicted in the fic, and to share snippets of the fic via screenshot or use in a video or article with credit to me via link to the work itself and naming me as the author. I ask that no extensions or fic of this fic (theories do not count) be written, for personal preference reasons.</p> <p>I do not give permission for people to repost my work without my explicit permission, pass it off as their own, use the fic in A.I datasets or submit its content in any way, shape, or form to A.I machines, or use it for commercial use in any way, shape, or form. Any of the actions mentioned in this paragraph go against the author's word for how this fic may be used and some of these cases can have actions taken against the perpetrator.</p> <p>If you have any questions about the points mentioned above, please email me at <a href="mailto:[email protected]">[email protected]</a> or send an ask to <a href="https://darubyprincx.tumblr.com/">my Tumblr blog</a>. </p> </section> </body></html>

This one has a two column layout and automaticaly switches to light or dark mode based on the users preference!

If u wanna add the auto style switch (which is importiant for accesability) then you can just paste

into the head element if you want!! (dont forget to remove the background-color and color properties from the css or theyll override it)

this is all /nf so feel free to delete or ignore the ask :3

this just deleted the original colors. thanks though i guess

#answered #ray's tag #sigh. now i have to fix this as we;;#FUCK I MEANT TO ANSWER THIS PRIVATELY

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extasiswings · 2 years ago

Note

For the ask game: 1, 2, 5, 28, 35! Hope you're having a good week<3

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

It depends on whether I'm writing in Word or Google Docs. In Word, I'll change the default so that I write in Times New Roman, but in Google Docs I'll just stick with the default of Arial. I think it's less that I care and more that 12pt TNR font in Word was what I was taught to use when writing anything on the computer (creative writing or otherwise) so it's what makes my eyes happy against the formatting.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Yes, I could absolutely write my stories exclusively by hand if necessary. Although I don't write everything by hand, I will break out the notebooks fairly frequently--sometimes it's for privacy, sometimes it's convenient, sometimes it's just because it helps my brain work better to put my thoughts down that way. Always pen and always cursive.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

The second I post a multichapter WIP that doesn't have the next chapter written, but has future scenes written, and say that it shouldn't take too long to update because it's practically almost done...at that moment, I have totally screwed myself and I will not finish the fic without at least one hiatus of a month or more. Same if I update something that I haven't updated in awhile and mention feeling motivated and like I know where I'm going, because inevitably I will get smacked by real life responsibilities.

28. Who is the most delightful character you've ever written? Why?

The most delightful character I've ever written? Hmm, that's a tough one, but I may have to go with the Diaz sisters. Partly because sibling dynamics are fun as hell to write and partly because there's a lot of freedom in playing in the sandbox of characters who have never been developed in canon (and therefore anything is fair game).

35. What's your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

They're not run-on sentences, they're an aesthetic. Just ask Charles Dickens.

#chapel talks #anonymous #ask game

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maryellencarter · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 2,277 times in 2022

That's 918 more posts than 2021!

166 posts created (7%)

2,111 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tigerkat24

@bookshop-cryptid

@justherefortheheists

@dying-suffering-french-stalkers

@jigensass

I tagged 1,300 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#jigen daisuke - 288 posts

#arsene lupin iii - 132 posts

#lupin iii - 127 posts

#goemon ishikawa xiii - 58 posts

#yes - 41 posts

#zenigata keibu - 20 posts

#fujiko mine - 19 posts

#it me - 18 posts

#laugh rule - 15 posts

#correctly prev tagged as - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#a samurai who has canonically never had procreative sex but is very blushy about tiddies and also that time he gave the gunman mouth to mou

My Top Posts in 2022:

I fucking love Lupin’s handwriting here, especially how you can tell it’s not a font. Look at the different shapes and sizes on those R’s! Somebody *wrote* that. I write a fairly similar hand myself (a bit loopier, which I’ve heard is accurate for English-language cursive teaching versus French-language cursive which is pointier). idk this is just really cute

also where does he order his embossed Lupin III calling cards, and has Zenigata ever tracked down his print shop

70 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

okay so i'm going back and rewatching "the target is 555 meters away" because i did not really manage to talk about that episode at all because part 2 was being such a slog but oh god it has ALL THE FEELS EVER

spoilers ahead

okay so the episode starts with a lovely moody scene where lupin is like "jigen, let me see your aim" and puts a sticker on his forehead and has jigen shoot at it with a sniper rifle from like half a kilometer away, and like. THEM! jigen's complete lack of hesitation! it's not made obvious before the shot that lupin is standing behind bulletproof glass, but jigen just trusts lupin so much that it doesn't matter. he'd take the shot if lupin wanted him to, whether he knew any of the rest of the plan or not.

and the way jigen takes the shot and the music goes totally silent while the bullet travels, and then it lands dead center and jigen's theme ("tornado") starts to play while he rides his lil bicycle over to lupin

and fucking THEN! they talk about the bulletproof glass, how the bullet barely went deep enough in to get stuck, how the real target will be three times as thick and 555 meters away... and then Lupin asks him "Can you do it, Jigen?" (or "Will you do it"... this is why anime peeps start learning Japanese istg), and Jigen asks "If I say no... *pause, more subdued* what will you do?" And Lupin just sticks his hands in his pockets, shuts his goddamn eyes, and with this little absolutely trusting peaceful smile on his face says "You won't say it" and starts walking away. And Jigen just mutters "Then don't ask" and bikes after him as the music fades down and it's just the wind blowing again.

like. everything! about this scene! they know each other so damn well! they fucking trust each other so damn much! they both know jigen is the only person in the world who has a hope in hell of pulling off what lupin is asking (which is gonna be WAY harder than this scene makes clear, we'll get there), and they both know jigen will ALWAYS be there for lupin.

but lupin asks anyway, doesn't just assume jigen will do it. and jigen *knows* that if he can't or won't do it, there's nobody else on earth lupin can turn to who has the skill level he needs. but he asks anyway, because that's the shape of the relationship between them. because he needs to hear that lupin knows he can do it. and they just... they fucking trust each other so much and they don't ever have to question it but sometimes they do just to hear the shape of their faith in each other around the answers. BAAAAABIES! *smishes them*

So anyway, the heist target is a diamond exhibition in a Space Needle looking tower building, although luckily it doesn't rotate. The floor and ceiling will both be electrified enough to kill Lupin if he touches them, and the walls are ridiculously thick bulletproof glass which can't be broken even with dynamite. We'll see at one point that it even takes Goemon several minutes to hack through one with Zantetsuken, which has been able to slice anything else in the entire show so far except sticky yam paste. (It was a thing.) Lupin disguises himself as Zenigata to get the details of the security plan, and also places another lil dot sticker on the window for Jigen to aim at when the time comes. Luckily, nobody notices the sticker, because we need it for Jigen to be a badass.

So then we start getting the actual setup for the sniping job Jigen is going to do. He's on top of an abandoned warehouse, on top of a CRANE, which is constantly swaying in the fucking wind. The sticker Lupin placed is so small and so far away it's barely visible even through his sniper scope. "So that's the target. I should just quit now," he grumbles to himself. Of course he doesn't quit, because Jigen has never willingly let Lupin down in his life, but he's sweating (he always gets sweaty when things are stressful, which honestly is one of those tiny things that make me very fond of him), and the grim way he sounds really sells just how damn impossible this stunt is going to be.

(Kiyoshi Kobayashi, Jigen's Japanese voice actor for fifty years, is a fucking *legend*. I may find Richard Epcar's gravelly Jigen voice sexier, but there's nobody like Kobayashi-sama for quiet emotion. I don't do open canons, but part of me is super tempted to watch at least some of the currently-airing Part 6 just to see how his handpicked replacement, Akio Otsuka, can possibly measure up.)

Anyway, then we get MORE of the details of this impossible fucking sniper job. Jigen has four boxes of bullets with him, plus a special bullet with an adhesive inside it and a zipline attached. His job is to shoot the bulletproof glass repeatedly in the same exact spot until he fucking DRILLS A HOLE through it. With bullets. Oh, and he's shooting against the wind (which he tests by tossing up little scraps of unlit cigarette and seeing which way they fly). Did I mention the crane he's on is swaying?

There's more to the heist, of course -- Lupin and Goemon have their work cut out for them getting Lupin into the elevator that's the only way inside the room with the diamonds -- but this episode is really Jigen's showcase and I'm here to squee about him. So after a little bit of plotty stuff with the others, we see that Jigen's down to his last box of bullets, hasn't made a crack in the glass, and is starting to worry he'll run out of bullets before he can get the job done. The wind's changed, too, just to make it a little harder for him to hit the same spot every time.

Lupin makes it into and up the elevator, and asks "How's it going, Jigen?" and because these two are also little shits who just happen to love each other deeply, Jigen snarks "don't rush me, I'm doing more delicate work than you are". In the meantime, Zenigata notices the growing pile of still-warm bullets on the ground below Jigen's target marker, and hollers for the elevator to be brought back down -- remember, Lupin has no survivable way *out* of the elevator until Jigen gets the zipline placed for him.

Just then, one of Jigen's bullets finally sticks in the bulletproof glass. Once there's a weak spot, Lupin says "You did it, Jigen!", but Jigen knows it's not over yet. He's sweating like hell, because *finally* one of the bullets stuck and gave him the opening he needs, but Zenigata is calling the elevator down and they're out of time. Lupin is trying to physically hold the door open to keep the car from moving down -- we saw that elevator door squish Zenigata earlier, so we know it's strong and has no safety function.

Little noodly monkey Lupin promptly gets squished as well, and the elevator starts down. Jigen, because he is the best fucking sniper in the world and because he trusts Lupin to be the best thief, doesn't panic, just makes annoyed Jigen noises (which are very adorable) and starts the next part of the process, which is where he has to drive the stuck bullet the rest of the way through the glass using more bullets as a hammer.

Lupin manages to drop Zenigata out of a hole in the elevator floor that Lupin made earlier, and heads back up. One of Jigen's bullets finally goes all the way through the window and falls on the floor, where it promptly gets disintegrated by the electricity, just to remind us why Jigen was vital to this plan. "I've done it, Lupin!" Jigen says, paralleling Lupin's earlier "You did it, Jigen!" when his first bullet stuck, because how gay is it really if you're not bookending each other's statements in a thematically appropriate manner. :D

Jigen pretty much hasn't been talking this whole time except to infodump about the wind conditions and tell Lupin to be patient, but now that the hard part is over and all (all!) he's got to do is thread the needle with one more bullet, he starts telling Lupin a little story about his childhood. Apparently when he was a tiny Jigenlet, he used to go to the shooting gallery at the fair and shoot for prizes, but he always came up a bullet short for the prize he wanted to win. We see the almost empty bullet box by his hand while he's explaining this.

"What were you shooting for -- Pernod [absinthe]?" Lupin asks, because he's inextricably French and also apparently is picturing a rather older Jigen at a rather different type of shooting competition. Sometimes I wonder if Lupin was ever actually a kid or just a little jungle monkey.

And Jigen, and this is one of the lines *everybody* gifs because it's fucking amazing no matter how you interpret it, Jigen just says "A pink-dressed French doll" and fires the zipline bullet. There's that long second of absolute silence while the bullet flies, goes through the hole seamlessly, and sticks to the far wall with a splat of adhesive.

Lupin just fucking STARES, and it's unclear whether he's shocked that Jigen wanted a doll or that he just made that shot so perfectly, or both. "What's the matter, Lupin?" Jigen jokes, tightening up the zipline so it'll hold Lupin's weight. "Even the guys at the shooting gallery would say 'hey, good shot'."

We cut back to Lupin's face, and now he's grinning like hell. "You did it!" he cheers. "Jigen, you are the number one sniper in the world, and when we get home I'll buy you a French doll." And Jigen just sits back on top of the crane and lights a cigarette -- the first one we've seen him actually light all episode, rather than just shred for wind direction -- and gets this absolutely fucking adorable little smirk on his face.

And I just. I JUST FUCKING CANNOT EVEN. THEY ARE SO GAY. If I was a person who did academic queer studies and shit I would have essays about symbolism and god knows what all. Even just as a person who just has watched a ridiculous amount of Lupin III recently, I can tell you that cigarettes in the Lupin/Jigen relationship are very often a metaphor for sex/romance/whatever it is they have going on (not always, because Jigen smokes like a chimney and sometimes it's just a cigarette, but when they're holding a lighter for each other's cigarettes or god forbid doing the lil thing they do in fanart where their cigarette tips kiss while they light one from the other, it's *always* a metaphor for the relationship), and oh god Jigen my heart that little sit back and relax and light a smoke and that little self-satisfied GRIN are absolutely, abso-fucking-lutely a metaphor and not a subtle one either. You enjoy that cigarette, baby, you've earned it.

Oh, and then when Jigen's packing up (because there's still the second half of the episode to go with the rest of the heist, but Jigen's *koff* shot his load *koff* finished already *koff* okay pick your own damn metaphor then ^_^), we find out he made it with ONE bullet to spare. Like, damn, baby. Lupin's luck and Jigen's skill, they are un-fucking-stoppable together.

(And then he uses that final bullet to kill one of the spotlights so Goemon can do the back half of the heist aka getting Lupin an escape route. Because Jigen, man. He's not out until he's out.)

So yeah, that was approximately the gayest fifteen minutes of television I've seen lately. Then once they've all three gotten away and they're on their yacht splitting up the haul (because the key to marital happiness between thief husbands is definitely separate bank accounts), there's an adorable little coda where we discover that Goemon fucked up his wrist so bad carving Lupin's escape route that he's wearing a sling, and Jigen's trigger finger is also janked up and he doesn't even want to look at a gun for a while. But at least they get to keep the loot, which is honestly pretty rare in part 2.

74 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Okay, Part 3 continues to have some delightful moments. This is from p3e27 "Codename is the Star of Alaska", which has already been pretty epic -- Jigen has a dead ex-boyfriend *and* a kidnapped ex-girlfriend so far. Just before these shots, he was captured and tortured in an electric chair by some idiots who didn't even know who he is or why they should be worried about getting Lupin mad at them.

(It sounds wrong to say it was a delightful torture scene, but it really was. He's extremely sassy. Also extraordinarily gay, even for Jigen. Listing off half a dozen mid-century male Hollywood heartthrobs for Reasons while getting electroshocked is definitely on a level.)

ANYWAY! So then Lupin comes charging in with a giant mech to save his boyfriend, as one does. I'd seen the first screenshot, where there's an entire fucking mob with machine guns and Lupin's just shielding them both with the mech, and he takes the time to give Jigen (still in the electric chair, by the way) a cigarette and light it with that lil flamethrower doohickey. I figured this is basically just, y'know, the cigarettes are always a metaphor, it's a cute gay little moment.

What I had NOT seen is the second shot, where Lupin produces a bunch of dynamite and has Jigen light the fuse with the cigarette Lupin just lit for him! (Also, god, Jiji, that is a Mankatsu-quality "I love arson" evil grin. *heart eyes*) I just. I JUST CANNOT. Like. How. Lupin could just light the dynamite with the flamethrower, but instead... man, ways to give your boyfriend agency in his own rescue, and a little bit of arson as a treat, while still leaving him conveniently strapped to an electric chair so you can rip the whole thing out of the floor and bridal carry him away with your giant mech. (I couldn't get a good shot of that part, but trust me, Jigen's smug little smirk while being carried is amazing.)

HOW EXTREMELY GAY CAN YOU GET is what I am fucking saying here! Also the orchestration of the main theme playing over this scene is all violins and flutes and sounds exactly like a love theme. HOW. GAY. CAN. YOU. GET.

92 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

Oh, update on the AO3 elections situation with Tiffany the pro-censorship pro-VPN fandom newbie: the elections were held August 12-15, 2022, and neither Tiffany nor the other relative OTW newbie, Noémie, was elected. It's unlikely that one board member would have been in a position to make any major changes to the OTW/AO3's direction anyway -- the biggest impression I came away with about Tiffany is that they thought they were running for a position with a ton more power than OTW Board Member actually has -- but y'all can stop panicking now.

However, if you've got ten bucks to spare and would like to be in a position to vote about the OTW board *next* year, it's not a bad idea to toss them a donation. Remember to ticky the "become a member" box if you want to be able to vote. I hear a fair amount of "anti" chatter in some of the circles I move in, and "we should volunteer / run / take over in order to make AO3 censorship-friendly" is a lot more common of a talking point there than, y'know, "we should do a fork of AO3's open source code and actually spend any of our own time or money to create an archive with rules we like, which nobody would post in because we'd wind up blocking them all over minor differences of opinion, like Calvinist theologians or French Revolution demagogues".

Uh. Sorry, it's 4am (I've been wrestling with Windows updates) and I'm a bit punchy. Anyway, point is, in order to encourage new blood, the only tenure/screening requirement for a Board candidate is nine months' OTW volunteer work -- Tiffany was a tag wrangler, for instance. (You have to be 18 or older and willing to put your full legal name publicly on the list of Board members if you win, also.) So it's certainly possible for some misguided group to look at this whole situation and go "clearly Tiffany was onto something, we need to put up another candidate with pro-censorship goals" and have time to get someone in place.

Sooooo long story short, I'm definitely planning to donate and become a member, having finally had it brought to my attention while I have some money to spare. Once I'm awake enough to figure out where the donations page is, because I always get lost looking.

179 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS ACTUALLY MASSIVE

so okay the biden administration is cancelling either $10k or $20k in federally-held student debt (i.e. if you've been getting letters from the department of education about the loan pause you're probably in that category) for people making under $125k a year while single or $250k a year as a household

you get the $20k forgiveness amount if you had pell grants, which for instance i did (for my non us based peeps these are the main non-loan way that poor people get college/university cost help here, so doing a higher amount for pell grant recipients is an efficient way of saying "you were / probably still are extra poor, have some more help"), and the $10k amount if you didn't have pell grants

if you're already on an income based repayment plan and fit the other qualifications, they're just gonna go ahead and do the thing, no extra action from you needed. if you're in default like me, or if you're not sure if the department of education currently has the proof of income paperwork they'll need (probably either your latest tax return or, if you didn't file taxes recently, some pay stubs or, if you don't have an income, a notarized affidavit stating that you don't), then there's going to be a government website to upload that information and apply to the program. you can subscribe to dept of education emails about student loans (link is at the bottom of the page when you follow my link to the fact sheet at the top of this post) to be notified when the webpage goes up.

FURTHERMORE, though, and to my mind this is actually bigger -- they're making major changes to how student loan payments and forgiveness are calculated going forward! for income based repayment plans, they're adjusting the income qualifications so that (roughly) no one making under $15 an hour will have to make payments, anyone who makes above that amount will only have to pay half the percentage of their income above the amount that they used to (5% of the amount you make over $31k instead of 10% of the amount over $19k, rounded and slightly sloppily calculatd, but which ADDS UP), you can get your remaining amount forgiven in 10 years instead of the previous 20/25 if you make your payments on time (including if the payments you're making "on time" are $0), and. AND AND AND.

NO MORE INTEREST IF YOU'RE MAKING YOUR PAYMENTS.

I borrowed about $12k for college. I owe about $20k now, because of student loan interest. I haven't been arsed to get out of default for five years, because the interest every month would still have been accruing if I was on an income based payment plan, so my amount owed would actually go *up* every month. NO MORE. If I'm reading this right, and I think I am, the government is going to cover your interest for as long as you make your payments -- again, even if the "payment" you're making on your repayment plan is $0.

This is the biggest fucking thing for poor people's finances since, I don't know, I literally don't even fucking know. The friggin New Deal maybe, I literally don't know. $10k/$20k is eyedropper amounts compared to the sea of student debt, yeah (although for me personally it might knock out my entire amount owed), but this? Having payments that are both halfway affordable AND ACTUALLY LOWER YOUR REMAINING DEBT? I... I don't know what to fucking say. I didn't even imagine -- it did not enter my head that they might cover interest on more than the tiny piddly amount you can get in "subsidized" loans. And for the life of the loans if you make your payments? And for that being 10 years max instead of 25? *falls over*

Anyway you can read all the official verbage at that link up there in case I'm misreading anything. but HOLY FUCK *runs in circles and falls over again*

384 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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