#...goal is to write a short fic a day for pride month

[v6quewrlds]

❝ darling, j. bellingham. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend jude has been nothing but sweet the entire time you've been together. who knew a number 10 jersey with his name on the back would affect him so much?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lil fic for jude <3. partially inspired by the 3-0 win over greece, but if it happened at wembley instead. really tried with the brit slang, someone pls confirm if it's shirt instead of jersey lol. day seven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, trent being trent, oral fixation (kinda), oral sex (69), american writing english people.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: jude bellingham x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.2k.

"You look stunning babes!" Tolami practically shrieked as your approached the cluster of WAGs, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The group of stylish women, all dressed to the nines in various shades of red and white to support the team, were huddled together, greeting each other after several months away at their partners' respective clubs. You had gone all out for today's match, your nails painted in the team's colors and your hair styled in perfectly poised waves that highlighted your cheekbones and the delicate gold hoops that danced against your neck.

"Thanks, love," you replied with a warm smile, giving your friend a quick hug. "I couldn't be caught looking anything less than leng next to you."

You glanced around the exclusive VIP area, your eyes scanning the pitch where the players were beginning their warm-ups. The electric atmosphere of the stadium was palpable, the throb of excitement pulsing through the air. The scent of freshly cut grass and the distant murmur of the crowd grew louder as you and Tolami took their seats.

During the match, your eyes never left Jude. His agility and precision on the pitch were mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride watching him command the midfield. Each time he looked up at your section, his gaze searching for yours, you felt a flutter in your stomach. When he scored the game's second goal with a powerful strike from just outside the box, the women erupted in cheers, and you were on your feet, your hands covering your mouth in shock and delight.

After the final whistle, the team huddled together, their faces a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd's roar was deafening as the players began to make their way towards the tunnel, and your heart raced in anticipation. He raised his hand up, gesturing for you to wait, and you nodded, your cheeks heating up under the ooh's of the other girls.

Once the team had disappeared into the depths of the stadium, you made your way down to the VIP lounge. The thrill of victory still hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and the tang of energy drinks. You chatted idly with Tolami and Megan as you waited for the players to emerge from the locker room, your laughter echoing off the walls. When Jude finally appeared, Trent Alexander-Arnold by his side, your shoulder relaxed in relief.

"Y/N," the Liverpool man called out to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "How's Jude holding up with that No Nut November bet? You keeping him honest, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a sigh at the juvenile banter that was a staple of the footballers' friendship. "Unfortunately, he's been a saint."

"It's only a matter of time before Trent gives up," Jude said, his own grin spreading as he approached the group of you. "Don't jinx it."

You playfully swiped at him, your eyes lighting up. "You know I believe in you."

Jude leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

As the two of you walked out of the stadium, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the heat of the game, Jude's hand found yours, his grip firm and possessive. The short drive to your flat seemed to take forever, the silence between you charged with unspoken thoughts. The streets of London were alive with fans, their cheers and chants a distant backdrop to your own private world.

Once inside, you slipped out of your shoes with a sigh of relief, and Jude's eyes followed your every move. He couldn't take his gaze off the England crest and his name emblazoned on the back of your shirt.

"You know, it's weird," he began, his voice a little rough. "Seeing you with my name on your back... it's like you're mine. Like, really mine."

You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that all it takes to make me yours?"

Jude took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "You know it's more than that, babe." He reached out, his fingers tracing the letters of his surname on the fabric of your shirt. "But seeing you wear this, supporting me with my name on your back, it just makes me want to show you off."

You felt a thrill run through you at his words. You stepped closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "What's stopping you, Bellingham?"

Jude didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you into his arms, kissing you with a hunger that surprised you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the warmth of his skin melting through the cool material of the shirt. You stumbled into the bedroom, your kisses growing more urgent as you went.

You broke away, your breathing heavy, and looked at him with a glint of challenge in your eyes. "You know, if you want to keep that bet with Trent..."

Jude's smoldering gaze stuck to your face as he peeled the shirt over your head, revealing the lacy lingerie you had chosen just in case. "We don't have to tell him," he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as his voice rumbled deliciously down your spine.

With a laugh that was half moan, you stepped away from him, slipping out of your jeans. "You're so full of it," you said, your voice breathless with excitement. "You can't just cheat your way out of a bet. What's the point?"

Jude's eyes never left yours as he shed his own clothes, his eyes dark with desire. "Who said anything about cheating?" he murmured, advancing on you with a predatory grace. "I'm just saying, a man's got needs, and you're looking too good. Who am I to resist what's mine?"

You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as Jude reached out, his fingertips tracing the edge of your bra. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, the air between the two of you crackling with sexual tension. "You're insatiable," you whispered, your voice a little shaky.

"Just for you," Jude said, his voice a gruff promise. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kissed you again, deep and demanding. His touch was possessive, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word. Your own hands roamed over his muscular chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

With a growl, he picked you up, carrying you to the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body fitting against his like they were two pieces of a puzzle. The bedroom was a blur of movement as you tumbled onto the bed, the soft sheets contrasting with the hardness of his body. Jude's kisses grew more insistent, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth as his hands moved to the clasp of your bra.

The sound of the fabric giving way was lost in your muffled moans. His thumbs grazed your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, your skin flushing with desire. "Jude," you gasped, your voice a whimper of need. He broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your exposed chest with a look that seemed to blister your skin.

Without wasting a moment, Jude's mouth found your breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive peaks before his tongue swirled around them. Your breath hitched, your fingernails digging into his back as the sensation washed over you. "Jude, more, please," you begged, your voice a throaty whisper. Jude's mouth continued its movements as he complied, his teeth tugging gently before his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling with a fervor that had your back arching off the bed.

Jude's hands roamed your body, his thumbs dipping into your waistband to tease the sensitive flesh just above your hips. Your hands weren't idle either, exploring the planes of his back, your nails scraping against the firm muscles as you pulled him closer.

With a sudden jolt of energy, you rolled the two of you over so you were on top, straddling him. "My turn," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with arousal. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw before you leaned down to kiss him, your teeth grazing his bottom lip before your tongue darted out to taste him. His hands moved to your hips, his grip tightening as you began to rock against him, feeling his length grow beneath you.

Jude's breath hitched as you kissed along his neck, your teeth scraping the sensitive skin just enough to make him shiver. He could feel the heat building between you two, the need growing more intense with every passing moment. "Serena," he groaned, his voice thick with want.

With a wicked smile, you slid off him, your eyes studying his face as you reached for his boxers. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every touch. Finally, you pulled them down, revealing his hard length. You took him in your hand, stroking him gently, watching his reaction with a sense of power that thrilled you to the core.

Jude's eyes rolled back, his hips bucking upward as you touched him. "Fuck," he muttered, his hand coming up to cover yours, guiding your movements. "You're killing me, babe."

Your smile grew wider as you leaned into him, your breath hot against his skin. "Good things come to those who wait," you sang under your breath, your teeth grazing his earlobe. You kissed a trail down his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs before finally reaching his cock. You took him into your mouth, the velvet heat of your lips wrapping around him, your tongue swirling in a way that made him groan.

His hands tangled in your hair as you took him deeper, your movements deliberate and teasing. He could feel the tension in his body winding tighter and tighter, the urge to push you down and fuck you senseless growing stronger with every passing second. "Babe, hold on," he ground out, his voice tight with restraint. "Sit on my face, 69. Wanna taste you."

With a light giggle, you complied, straddling his head. The scent of your arousal filled the room, making his mouth water as his tongue found your clit. You gasped, your movements faltering as you focused on the delicious sensation of his mouth on you. Your hand stroked him in time with his tongue, the sound of your moans mixing with the wetness of your desire.

Your body began to tense, your movements growing more frantic as you felt the orgasm building within you. Jude's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling in a pattern that had you seeing stars. "Oh god," you whispered, your voice a hoarse plea.

Jude felt your thighs tighten around his head, your body shaking with the beginnings of climax. With a triumphant groan, he pushed his tongue deeper, feeling your muscles spasm as you came. Your hips rocked against his face, your tongue still working his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and with a final, desperate stroke, he too reached the edge, his body tensing as he released into your mouth.

You sat up, swiping your tongue across your lips, a smug smile playing on your face as you turned to face your boyfriend. Jude all but whimpered as your mouth fell open to reveal you had swallowed him completely. With a giggle, you watched as Jude lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes closed in bliss.

"All this over a shirt?" you teased, your voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

"It's not just the shirt," he murmured, his eyes finally opening to meet yours. "It's knowing that you're mine, that you're supporting me in every way possible." He reached up, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "That I'm the one who gets to take you home after games like this."

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Jude's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hands roaming over your body in a silent show of strength and possession.

Your bodies were slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison as you broke away, panting for air. Jude rolled you over again, his muscles flexing as he positioned himself above you, his cock still hard and demanding. "Round two?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr.

Your eyes widened, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of pleasure. "You're unbelievable," you whispered, but you didn't protest as he nudged your thighs apart. Jude's gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust as he settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt the heat of him, the promise of more pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I absolute LOVE this blog and is my fav!!!!

I hope you all are having a good day :)

I was hoping if you could have some ariracrow Singer AU

(Maybe azi is more classical and an oposite of crowley?) anything is fine, really

Thank you!!!

💚

Hi! We have a #musician crowley tag with plenty of fics, so check that out. Here are some where one or both of them is a singer...

Black Mackerel by Phoenix_Soar (T)

Aziraphale, who'd been hoping to break out as a solo ballad singer, didn't expect to debut in an idol pop group. He especially didn't expect to be "shipped" with Crowley, one of the rappers and the person most unlike him... OR: The "Aziraphale and Crowley are in a K-pop style idol group" crack fic the author never imagined she'd write

Music and Love Everywhere by IneffableDoll (T)

Anathema drags her friend, Aziraphale, to a rock concert. Turns out, the redheaded lead singer is exceptionally pretty…

smash your competition, baby by KissMyAsthma (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley compete for the title of their country’s representative for the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. Being rivals seems to only heat up the atmosphere between them, and when the excitement and adrenaline after their performances take over, they work off some of their post-performance high together.

Striking Chords by Ambra_Sue (M)

Anthony Crowley is a country singer a couple of years off his latest almost-hit, itching for something to change. He’s done his best to outrun his demons, but it’s not until he runs into an intriguing blond angel of a man that things start to fall into place. Aziraphale has a successful career, close friends, and more than enough money, but there’s still something missing. When an unexpected arrangement with reckless, ‘work-hard-play-harder’ Crowley crops up, his well-ordered world is changed forever. Can they balance career goals and feelings, and find the perfect rhythm together? Country music AU! This fic was meant for Pride month, and because of that I'll be reccing LGBTQ+ country music artists on each chapter. I built this fic on short chapters to cover as many artists as possible.

Empty Orchestra by Fallinfromgrace (E)

Ezra has never been a fan of modern music, it just didn't have the same feel as classical music. That would all change when he meet his best friend, Anathema, for drinks at a local bar with an Open Mic night to meet her new boyfriend. The moment the first singer steps out onto the stage Ezra was entranced. Who is this beautiful man, and why does he look so sad? Crowley was not in a good place and he knew it. He loved his work, especially since it allowed him to do the one thing keeping him sane, sing. But he's been out of the game for a few weeks now. Ever since his boyfriend betrayed him, leaving Crowley feeling broken and all alone. But things start to look up when he sees a beautiful Angel sitting at the bar. When he sees him again the next week he can't help but wonder what he might be like. Could he be the one to help Crowley mend his broken heart?

Till I Saw You by curiouswriterkr (E)

Crowley is a burned out chef recovering from adrenal fatigue in Tadfield. Aziraphale, a gifted musician with a big, soft heart, happens to be performing one evening at an open mic. Their eyes collide and inevitably, so do their lives, helping each other step into healing, truth and more joy.

- Mod D

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

shhhh pretend you do not see what day of the week it is (dear brain, please get back into a routine!) Happy Frunday? Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this month. Deep in my 'Chris' away, now what' feels. You can find previous rec lists here.

14 July 2024

not a demon, there's a reason by @ithilien-writes oooooh my god I love 'kid learns about their parent's past' fic, and the Chris season 8 set up is just a gold mine for it. Here's an absolutely incredible entry into the fic canon, in which Chris, bored and lonely in Texas, stumbles upon Eddie's teenage diary. He reads it as a conduit to learning more about Shannon than his Dad has ever told him, and in doing so comes to understand Eddie like he never did before. (I would also recommend reading other fic from this author for some lovely interconnected story telling and further insight into some of Eddie's teenage secrets.)

kid, you better come home by @wildehacked is a short one shot with Buck's POV on Chris being away, navigating calls to him, established but relatively new bucktommy, and how Buck copes with all that whilst looking after Eddie and nurturing their queerplatonic family set up. A really interesting exploration of Chris and Buck's relationship with the basis that 'Every other time Chris has fought with Eddie, he’s gone to Buck.' I love Chris' voice in this, it's so well captured.

i’ve seen a couple suns that set forever by @cal-daisies-and-briars '“So?” Chris asks. “You’ve said things are going to change before, and it always ends up with people leaving, and me feeling terrible all over again. How is it different now?”' in which Chris and Eddie go to family therapy, and Eddie comes out. Really wonderful exploration of how not everything is fixed so easily, and Eddie working to repair the damage whilst Chris works on understanding his Dad and coming to a place of forgiveness, whilst dealing with his own abandonment issues. Luckily a conversation with Bobby helps him look at his Dad in a new light.

my home is your body by @coldbam 'This is Buck’s first Pride. Sue him, he’s excited. He’s going all out.' After Buck and Tommy have a rather acrimonious split during Buck's first pride out, he discovers Eddie has had a very different night. There as an ally, Eddie embarks on some steep self discovery learning curves. Exploring grindr leads to a serious friends with benefits situationship, but of course there's no miscommunication over feelings here...right? Oh Buddie...what are we gonna do with you. A delightful comedy of errors whilst also being hot. Loved this!

let the world have its way with you and thousand times (which isn’t half enough) by @shitouttabuck in which Eddie convinces Buck to seize the day post-lightning strike by making a bucket list and helping him make his wishes a reality, from the smallest hopes to the biggest dreams. With a heaping of Buckley-Diaz family and firefam time, so much pining and longing and heart...and the most sweetly loving tree root metaphor I've ever read. Now with a gorgeous follow up fic to answer some of those lingering questions!

so far away but still so near by @exhuastedpigeon yes, yessss Eddie and Lucy and Ravi bestieism. In which, based on Frank's advice, 'Eddie Diaz learns who he is outside of being a father, builds some new friendships, and loves his best friend.' I really loved the dynamic that Eddie built up here, his tentative steps into finding friends outside of the support system he'd previously relied on, and the way it peeled back new facets of himself in order to love his loudest. Gorgeously written as always! Ravi and Lucy are just absolute bestie goals.

I know the words, I know the sounds by @try-set-me-on-fire in which 'Buck and Eddie dance at Tommy’s wedding.' Oh yeah, I see you SalTommy shippers, and I absolutely get it. As does Buck...sometimes the heart just wants what it wants, and what are you gonna do? Exploring the 'what if Tommy's the one to run off with his best friend' prompt to hilarious and heartwarming ends.

good pretender by @likeshipsonthesea an oldie but a goodie circa season 5, in which Buck and Ravi are secret fully platonic friends with casual sex benefits, Eddie pines A LOT, and everyone is just failing to communicate. I love the introspection here, what each character learns about themselves along the way, and how everything is eventually worked out. Give me season 8 Ravi main please show, I'm begging.

That's it for this week but I'm once again putting out a call for any Hen POV or henren ficrecs (please feel free to self rec), buddietommy, and canon compliant Tommy POV because I've fallen out of the loop!

[rouzuchan]

For You

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈(𝐬): Junpei "Cobra" Hino x Reader (ʏᴏᴜ/ʏᴏᴜʀ) 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: drabble; fluff 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: gender unspecified(?); term "maiden" used

“And what are these for?”

You stare at him incredulously, the lingering scent of roses, baby’s breath, and marigolds wafting in the air around you. The priceless confusion and conflict in his expression made your attempts to hold your giggles fruitless.

“A gift, what else?”

“You sure it’s not an errand?” Cobra gave you a wary look. Shaking your head, you tapped his chest with the bouquet, urging him once more to take it.

With a sigh, he takes the bouquet without brushing your hand against his. Your heart leaped, watching his stoic features tracing over the petals and stalks. Nothing but the whistling winds occupied the sounds. Right, it was going to rain soon.

“Thanks,” he said. “You should go now, the weather won’t be kind tonight.”

You nodded, “say ‘hi’ to the gang for me.” You scrambled towards the way to your house. When you reached a corner, you pressed your back against the brick wall. You let out an ecstatic squeal, pumping your fist in pride; slightly kicking your feet. After months, you finally did it!

You quickly cupped your mouth, looking around the area before resuming your journey.

Meanwhile, Cobra entered ITOKAN, treading to his usual table. He placed the bouquet on the table, before grabbing a magazine from the side. While his rowdy gang hollered in laughter from Dan’s story, he couldn’t tear his attention away from the neatly-arranged beauty.

Cobra was observant. He noticed the fresh small scars and cuts that decorated your hands. How long did it take you to make this? How many days of trial and error did you do to ensure this was perfect? He petted the rose petal, soft and gentle like your hands from earlier, admiring its shape.

“Ahem.”

He shot his glance up, finding Naomi with his usual dish. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he went back to his magazine. She placed the plate on his table, before crossing her arms. “And here I thought men were supposed to give flowers to the maidens,” she quipped, “better step up your game.”

“Shut up,” Cobra rolled his eyes.

Not a moment later, all it took was Yamato’s loud mouth to point out the flowers, before the entire diner went berserk.

First fic of the year 😭 My goal for this year is to write more, in a simple form. No matter how short or long! f*ck you, procrastination!!

@airbendertendou! Sorry, this took so long 💗 others: @straysugzhpe @star2fishmeg @prodbyblush @high-lowincorrect love yah HiGH&LOW nation 🫶

[angst-in-space]

may '24 writing progress

words written: 10.8k

most words written in a day: 1,408

least words written in a day: 0

yearly total: 56.8k

projects worked on:

ya sci-fi book rewrites

adult fantasy book edits

planning bsd regency au

soukoku oneshot

altea rising ch 16 edits

works published in may:

none

may goals:

sigh i don’t know, maybe just rewrite ONE CHAPTER of ya sci-fi book? 🥲 hopefully a bit more than that but idk we’ll see lmao

implement beta feedback + post ch 10 of sylvix dreamscape fic??

edit & post chapter 16 of altea rising maybe?

continue working on soukoku oneshot

finish an outline of bsd regency au

mayyybeee work on other fics? specifically maybe sylvix pacrim au…i miss it…

june goals:

stares... make progress on ya sci-fi book... once again, if i could just finish at least One Chapter that would be great lol

edit/post ch 10 of sylvix dreamscape?

edit/post ch 16 of altea rising?

finish a first draft of soukoku oneshot

finish bsd regency au outline (i'm hoping i can start writing this fic in july)

work on other fics??

notes:

well. may was... a weird month. (death cw) my grandpa passed away. aaand i spent a lot of the month feeling really depressed partly because of that and for other various reasons. so, not a great time over all. i did not get as much done as i had wanted, but i think it's a win that i got anything done at all really lol.

i am still suffering big-time with rewriting the last few chapters of ya sci-fi book. but i have at least reached the climax, so there's that! i've been struggling with "choreographing" it all, but i think i just gotta rip the band-aid off and write it even if it's not perfect.

i had also hoped to edit/post the last chapter of sylvix dreamscape in may, but...with everything going on it just kinda fell through the cracks, and i also gotta follow up with my betas about it. sooo maybe in june?? i'm so sorry, i know it's been almost a year by now. ;;

otherwise... i made a bit of progress on the soukoku oneshot! only like 2k but that's something lol. i'm hoping i can at least finish a first draft of it this month since i think it will be relatively short. aaaand i am almost done outlining the bsd regency au, which i am hoping i can start writing in july... that one is going to be Very Long but i am excited about it!!

other than all that, i don't have many specific goals for this month. hoping i might return to some of my other fics and whatnot but we shall see. it's gonna be a busy month lol. also happy pride!!! 🏳️‍🌈

[ja-lin]

Taming the Tigress (Pride Month Writing Challenge Day 1, 2)

Fandom: Voltage Lovestruck Series: Sweet Enchantments Characters: Runa x MC Wordcount: 2200 Notes: MC’s PoV on how she feels about Runa.  Warnings: Rough sex scene at end, but no vulgar language used.

I’ve forgotten how many days have passed since being confined to this magical cafe and bound to a magician. I’m a fawn lost in a jungle of predators. But, everytime Runa walks past me, the exotic spiced scent of her perfume makes my heart flutter, a butterfly towards the sweet bosom of a flower.

Runa has the ferocity of a tiger and everyone warns me not to approach her. All the taunting voices echo through my ears that my relationship with the tigress is unhealthy and punishable in the magic world. But, I know in my heart that the tigress is lonely and her ferocious roars are no more than drawn out weeps that echo through the night. 

In the darkness, I hear the sound of a certain mysterious barista, like a one man orchestra working his magic at the bar. If anyone can give me advice about how to approach the tigress, it's Zain. Before I even sit down on a bar stool and begin to ask him a question about Runa, he gracefully turns around to face me, silken hair falling smoothly onto his shoulders, like ocean waves coming to a rest onto the sands of a beach. 

Zain is holding a beautiful ceramic tea cup, the edges of the cup adorned with intricate gold patterns resembling flowers and butterflies. The scent of the tea hits me and I’m transported to a field of exotic wildflowers.

Not only is Zain a skilled barista, his knowledge on rare teas is impressive. He explains, "This is special floral tea made from the petals of the blooming monarch flower.“

I continue to sip the tea, each sip bringing me deeper and deeper into the field of wildflowers. 

Zain’s voice is a gentle breeze in the field, “There is a legend about the origin of the flower's name. Ancient magicians say that during the monarch butterfly mating season, one butterfly could not find love. It was sad and had no energy left to flutter. After drifting around with the wind for several days, the butterfly landed on the petals of a beautiful, kind flower. The flower shielded the butterfly from wind, rain, and sun until it was strong enough to speak."

Yet, the flower noticed the butterfly was weeping one night and asked, "Why are you weeping my dear butterfly?" 

The butterfly woefully responded, "Everyone around me has found someone to be with for life, but alas I will never be able to find love." 

The flower decided to take a risk, "Take my nectar, regain your strength and you will surely find your true love." 

The butterfly was shocked by the flower's sacrifice, "But, you will perish if I do so! I could not do that to a friend!" 

The flower curled its petals as if embracing the lone butterfly, "I may not be a butterfly and I am from a completely different world, but I am doing this because I love you more than a friend. Please take my nectar and live a happy life, for if you perish I could not stand living another day." 

The butterfly began to weep again, "I cannot take your nectar and live a happy life because my life would not be happy without you." 

Zain continues to speak, voice smooth and smoky like dark chocolate melting against the heat of a kiss, “And, so there the monarch butterfly and the flower remained. Their love blossomed and grew -- seasons upon seasons passed and one spring, a magician stumbled upon a field of beautiful flowers that had petals resembling the monarch butterfly.”

As Zain finishes his story, the aroma of the tea draws me like a butterfly to a flower. He offers me the delicate cup and I take a sip. The tea tastes bittersweet with a strong floral finish that lingers in my mouth. 

I ask Zain for another cup of the tea, “Runa would love a cup of this tea, maybe it’ll cheer her up.”

To my surprise, Zain already has a tray of tea and snacks setup as he speaks to me, “What a coincidence as I was about to ask you to bring this to her! She has barely eaten anything all day and even the turnips are worried for their mother.” 

Zain winks at me as I take the tray up to Runa’s room.

I take a deep breath and enter the lair of the tigress. The room is dim, but I can make out the shape of Runa laying sideways on her bed facing the wall. Maybe this was a bad decision, I’m having second thoughts. 

Before I can change my mind, Runa roars in a fiery tone, but her voice is cracked as if she had been sobbing for hours, “Get the fuck out and leave me alone. Doors were made for a reason. To be shut.” 

I know I can’t back down, so despite the tigress snapping at me, I approach and sit next to her on the bed, “Zain wanted me to bring this tray of tea and snacks. It’s a rare tea, from the petals of the monarch flower.” 

Runa lets out a snort and a short mocking laugh before shifting and sitting up in bed next to me. Unable to contain herself, Runa bursts out laughing, “Oh, that dumb story he always tells. Zain’s always a big fanboy of fantasy stories with romance and legends. Lately, he’s been telling me about this novel he’s reading, of a girl from Chicago who gets dropped into some fantasy world and she managed to help save a knight and sorceress escape the wrath of an evil queen.” 

I set the silver tray onto my lap and mention to Runa that the novel was made into a movie a couple summers back.

“There was a movie called The Void’s Embrace, it was pretty popular and the audience was so disappointed when the knight sacrificed himself to save the girl and the sorceress. The sorceress lost her memory, but at the same time that also meant she forgot about years of war and abuse. The girl was heartbroken, but wanted the sorceress to live a peaceful life without memory of war and abuse. At the end of the movie, true love’s kiss brought the memories back.”

Runa rolls her eyes and grabs a biscuit from the tray to pop into her mouth, speaking as she chews. Some turnips sneak out of the crate, curious about the sugary crumbs dropping to the floor. Runa flicks pieces of biscuit down to the curious turnips.

“Silly humans. To hell with true love’s kiss. Fantasy romance is such bull crap because the writers make it so poetically perfect, but in reality that’s not how it works. You're such a hopeless nerd for fantasy romance. Nothing in reality is that perfect, second chances and redemption don't exist. Once you fucked up once in real life, there's no fixing it. Everyone will look at you like you're a monster that belongs in some deep, dark pit or locked up forever in a dungeon. True love doesn’t exist.”

Challenging the tigress in her lair proves difficult, but I know need to take a risk.

“But, fantasy stories like that give us hope to keep trying. The sorceress knew she did horrible things in the past, so she didn't feel like she deserved to be loved. I think that everyone deserves a chance. Whatever happened yesterday can't be changed, whatever's going to happen in the future is uncertain, but today...we can control what we do today in the present. I want to take control of the present. And, I just wanted to know your honest feelings. Everytime I try to ask you about our relationship, the door slams shut in my face.”  

Runa turns to face me so fast, bracing both my shoulders with such ferocity that it knocks the tray off my lap. The sounds of the silverware and tray dropping wake up some more turnips that had been sleeping in a crate nearby. They wobble out, some of them yawning -- and they begin to help their mother clean up the mess. I'm momentarily distracted by the cute, sentient root vegetables and don't notice that Runa's face is only inches from mine. I only snap out of my turnip pantomime trance when I feel her hot breath against my cheeks, but I don’t cower as she roars at me, bearing her teeth.

"Like I said. Doors were made to be shut. Stubborn humans. You don't fucking understand anything about about me and my past! Nobody understands me, yet everyone judges me and tries to help me. I suggest you stop trying and just give up now, just like the rest of them gave up on me and left me hanging. Stop giving me false hope, the light is unreachable from where I am deep in the lair. You don't fucking know shit. I wish you'd have never shown up at the cafe!” 

The words Runa spew at me are harsh, but I know that’s just her way of shielding herself from her emotions. Following her outburst, she uses her arms as a physical shield, crossing them over her bosom as she turns her back to me. Even as Runa's hands drop from my shoulders, I can still feel their heated presence like footsteps on hot sand that only slowly wash away with the cold ocean tide. I gently place my hands on Runa's shoulder to comfort her, but she jerks around to face me, freezing from the sudden touch, eyes wide with surprise that any prey would dare challenge the predator.

I take a deep breath and lock my eyes with Runa's.

“Yes. You got that right! I am a stubborn human, but this means I will never, NEVER give up on you. My entire life, I've known the pain of loving someone, but needing to suppress it, to hide it deep in my heart because others around me won't accept it. The fear of rejection, the fear of the one I love leaving me because I'm not worthy enough or I'm not real enough. It's like drinking poison everyday. You're not the only one with monsters within you. We all carry that burden, but at the same time we dream that one day we'll find someone who will accept us for the monsters we truly are.” 

Runa opens her mouth slightly about to speak, but her lips become sealed again and she averts her gaze away from me. The tigress knows she’s been challenged --she’s never been challenged before by prey and she doesn’t know how to counter it. 

So, I continue to advance, “Everytime I see you, hear your voice, feel your presence, and smell your scent -- it's like drinking more poison. I know it's killing me, but I can't stop drinking it.” 

I shift my hands up her shoulders until I’m cupping her warm, flushed cheeks and turn her face so we’re gazing into each others eyes. With confidence that prey never had against a predator I attack, “Runa Amberthorne, true love is the antidote. But, I'm content to drink all your poisons until the day I die.” 

With that being said, I draw her face towards mine until our lips meet. The tension, like sparks, suddenly ignites a fire I’ve never seen before in Runa’s eyes. The tigress is finally awake and I’m vulnerable as the prey. She wraps her arms around my body and returns the kiss with ferocity, deep and passionate -- her tongue dancing in my mouth as she explores and tastes me. As the dance ends, she playfully rakes her teeth against my lower lip and gently bites down before sitting back to catch her breath. Runa rolls her tongue across her lips and teeth and I know she's hungry for more. Offering myself, I fall back onto the bed, my hair sprawling out on either side of my head -- my quickened breaths and gasps only fueling the flames of her desire.

Like a tigress she pounces on to me, framing my body with both her muscular arms, nails digging into the bed like claws -- I’m frozen like prey staring into her intense amber eyes, but soon heat spreads through me like a wildfire out of control as she rips my clothing off -- nails digging into my skin as she does so. The slight sight of blood trickling from where her nails streaked down my tender skin releases her ferocious inner beast. The tigress, starved for eons begins to devour me from head to toe. 

I can feel how toned Runa’s arms are against my inner thighs as she lays fiery kisses down my body, lower and lower, until I gasp her name. Strands of Runa’s pink bangs stick to her face, now slick with the sweat. Runa slightly tilts her head up and our eyes lock. She sets my flames of desire ablaze with deliberate, relentless strokes of her tongue. I don’t dare break my gaze with her amber eyes, for I want the flames to keep burning hot throughout the night. 

I am hers now and forever, as she claims and marks me with her mouth.

[kywaslost]

I want to request for same the last onewhen reader feel in need for someone to remind them that they're doing great can still get better as they like

I love compliments and get praised when i do something that i belive i

If you could put these things in fic following the last one storyline it would be great, thank you !

Platonic Hawks x Teen Reader With Autism Pt. 2

A/N: Hello again! Thank you for sending in another request! I hope this is what you were looking for. I’m sorry I didn’t write it any sooner. I’ve been struggling mentally this week and have been working through some friend issues. I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the other one! <3

    You had been training with Hawks for a little over 4 months now, and you’ve enjoyed every second of it. You had grown to trust Keigo, and it mainly came from the fact that he let you be you, and never pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to. Of course, he encouraged you to do things outside of your comfort zone, but he’d never make you do them.

    It was Keigo’s main goal, as he’s stated before, to help you. He didn’t treat you like other adults who claimed they were ‘fixing’ you, or that you were ‘broken’ and needed to be fixed. Hawks wanted to help you become a better hero, to help you do things you thought you couldn’t do. He knew you had a distaste for older humans, but some day you’re bound to have to interact with one while doing hero work. So he encouraged you to start small and talk with the adults you’d see every day.

    “I really don’t understand why I missed this many points on my essay,” you said quietly one evening, doing homework in the lobby of Hawks’ agency. It was one of the private lobbies, only for heroes and their interns and work studies students. The bird man was sitting across from you, working away on his computer.

    He looked up and said, “Were there no comments written?”

    You shrugged a bit. “I mean, there are a few, but they don’t make any sense.”

    Hawks sighed slightly. He knew what he was going to say, and he already knew what your response was going to be. “You could ask Present Mic. I’m sure he’d be happy to explain it to you.”

    You immediately began shaking your head, your hair falling over your eyes in the process. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t do that.”

    “Hey,” Keigo scowlded lightly. “What did I tell you.”

    You stopped shaking your head, reaching into your bag to pull out your comfort item and hugging it closely to your chest. “Don’t say can’t.”

    “Mhm,” he smiled. “You can talk to him. Eventually.”

    “Eventually,” you agreed. “But not now. I don’t trust him.”

    “And that’s alright. You take your time, bridie.”

    Conversations like this happened at least once every week. Just small pick-me-ups, words of encouragement and pride. Hawks was proud of how much you’ve grown in the short time he’s known you. You can talk to him a lot easier now, and you aren’t afraid to talk about your latest hyper-fixations. He was so incredibly proud of you. 

    “You know, Y/N,” he started one evening, flying with you above the city. “I haven’t said this recently, but I want you to know that I am so incredibly proud of you.”

    Tears welled up in your eyes at his kind words. “Thank you, Hawks. That means a lot.”

    “I know how hard certain things are for you,” he continued. “But I’ve noticed how you’ve become more comfortable with certain people. Like Eraserhead and myself.” He stopped flying middair, hovering. You stopped a second later, then turned back to him, listening to his kind words. Keigo flew over to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I am so proud of you. You’re taking things at your own pace, and I can see that.”

    You suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, your tears falling onto his coat. “I couldn’t do it without your help.” you sniffled as you pulled away. “Thanks for encouraging me to become a better hero.”

    He ruffled your hair slightly. “Of course, Y/N. That’s what I’m here for.”

[babblish]

A Year in Writing; 2021 — A Retrospective

I won’t lie, I spent most of 2021 writing. The first half of the year started off well but then a lot happened in a short frame of time in July and the rest of my year has been intense. To be perfectly honest, I am unsure if I am going to be able top my 2021 word count wise, but I doubt that’s going to be an inherently bad thing.

The Heart of Janus, Published:

March 5 - The White Rabbit Returned From Hiatus

May 22 - The White Rabbit Completed

August 14 - Primordial Awakenings Launched

September 7 - Primordial Awakenings Completed

September 11 - Primordial Awakenings — Deleted Scenes Launched

November 19 - Primordial Awakenings — Deleted Scenes Completed

The Heart of Janus, Wips:

Under the Wave (aka Morgana Fic)

Unnamed Camelot Fic

Under the Sun — Part Two: The Daughters of Magic

Under the Sun — Part Three: The Pursuit of Stone

Arcadia Witch (aka Witch!Lenora Fic)

The Homework Squad (Multiple PoV; Coach Lawrence, Uhl, Janeth, Strickler)

Dungeons and Dragons, Published:

February 4-21 - Web of Starlight Returned from Hiatus with 4 chapters

June 5-26 - Web of Starlight Returned from Hiatus with 4 chapters

Dungeons and Dragons, Wips:

Web of Starlight

Doctor Beauregard Aubin Marceau Thibault-Babineaux

Bean

Stats

Overall Word Count: 165765

Highest Word Count in a Day: 3386 (November 19)

Average Word Count on a Writing Day: 1076

Priority Project: 125350 (Heart of Janus)

Other Projects: 40415

What I Learnt as a Writer in 2021:

Publishing twice a week is great if you can keep up with the schedule.

People are more interested in fanfic if you’re fucking magic and can produce content within months of the characters being killed off rather than a couple years later.

In order to grow further I am going to have push myself out of my comfort zone more often.

I am friends with some amazing writer folks and a constant source of inspiration, awe, pride, and perseverance.

Writing Goals for 2022:

Finish Under the Wave and move onto Untitled Camelot Fic.

Produce Spicy (Explicit) Content.

Schedule time to read and art also.

Enjoy life

[2020 Retrospective]

[namgee]

implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)   ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none  ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee

[storybookprincess]

hey there!! i’ve been having a really tough time these past few months with depression, and i haven’t written anything during that time. i’d like to, but i just feel so tired all the time, like my brain is stuffed w cotton, and i’m worried i won’t be good enough to make the ideas come out the way they are in my head, and... just ugh lol. any advice?

hello my friend!!  first, i just want to say how sorry i am that your depression has been rough these past few months.  dealing with mental health challenges is always an incredibly draining & frustrating experience, and i can only imagine how worn out you must be feeling by now.  i do have some thoughts on how to approach this situation, but of course with a big disclaimer that i am not a licensed counselor & just a well meaning person on the internet with an interest in mental health treatment.

so the thing about depression, both speaking from my own experience & my understanding of the actual psychological research, is that we have these two competing truths about the disease.  the first is that a really big part of clawing your way out of the enormous pit that is depression is engaging in positive, meaningful activities to you, even if you don’t feel like it.  and creative pursuits are right up there with exercise in terms of being some of the most beneficial activities for your mental health.  but the second truth is that the depressed brain is much, much more prone to exhaustion and discouragement and negative appraisals than a non-depressed brain.  which leaves us with a bit of a balancing act to try to pull off.  writing, if it is a meaningful, enjoyable activity to you, has the potential to help you feel better.  but overdoing it & setting unrealistic expectations will just leave you frustrated & demoralized that you can’t meet your lofty goals.  so what do we do?  in short, we take baby steps.  and i’m talking baby baby steps.

your personal baby steps will depend on your own situation and what works for you, but i’ll start you off with a few ideas.  maybe instead of writing a full oneshot, you type out a short headcanon post & post it online (or don’t post it!! totally up to you!!)  if that’s still too overwhelming, maybe you just write a very detailed comment on one of your favorite fics (hey, it’s technically writing, it’s getting you thinking about stories, and it’s engaging with fandom.  it totally counts!!!)  maybe you set a timer for five minutes, try to write while it’s running, and when it’s stopped, decide whether you want to be done for the day.  and even if you decide you’re done, you let yourself feel pride & accomplishment that you met your goal.  maybe you find a prompt list online, pick one that speaks to you, and write a five to ten sentence fic based on the prompt.  anything and everything writing and writing adjacent counts!!  there is no such thing as “not enough” in this context.

when you’re dealing with depression, every activity is exponentially more challenging and exhausting than it was when you weren't depressed. because your degree of difficulty has increased, you have to re-define what winning is. three sentences is winning. one sentence is winning. six words is winning. and as the wins start piling up, oftentimes, the world begins to look a little brighter. best of luck, my friend <3 <3

[endae]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged way way back by @fallen-gravity, and again by @novantinuum. Sorry for the delay, thank you so much Cindy and Jen! ❤️

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently, 19, but there's still a handful I need to move from Tumblr over to AO3.

What’s your total word count on AO3

110,008!

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Well over a decade now, and surprisingly only 3! I started out in Resident Evil, moved to Pandora Hearts, and now Gravity Falls.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Just Keep Breathing comes in at number one (in no small thanks to fex's beautiful fanart of it, I'm sure). Following it is Aftercare, Rescind, Reset, Louder Than Words, and out and alive.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really pride myself on responding to every single comment. It's so important for me to show my readers how much I value them taking the time to say something. I try to match their comments lengthwise, a small thank you for anyone that drops a few lines, and something much longer for the ones that really get into it.  

(that being said, if you've sent me one and it's been months, I see it, I promise, I will get to it eventually,)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

[spoilers for the fic but] It's definitely Before the Bridges Burn. With the premise in the summary, and the fact that I'm working on a sequel, anyone without a clue can probably draw their own conclusions. But you have my promise that Ashes will have a much warmer ending 🙏

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

I haven't yet! It's probably a mix I won't ever make an attempt on, but I was really piqued by all the GF-Undertale crossover content that was floating around back in 2015 when it first came out.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I'm fortunate to say I haven't, and hoping it stays that way 🤞

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I haven't, no.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and I hope that's still the case.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but it might be on the horizon! A friend dropped a fic idea that I'm dying thinking about, and if they ever wanted to commit to it, I'd be on it with them in a heartbeat.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Link and Zelda :) nowadays I could go either way with them as friends or a couple, but it was probably my first ship ever.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A soulmate AU that I was wavering back and forth on for a bit. I've got a lot of heart for it, and while the platonic interpretation of the trope has been embraced a little more in recent years, I still think it's just a little too daunting to put out in public.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I write tense moments relatively well. I put a lot of thought into buildup because the payoff means so much to me. I usually start with the wham moments and craft the rest of the chapter/standalone fic around it, so when it’s all said and done, those moments were truly the heart of the whole thing.

Related to that, I think I’m really good about weaving callbacks and red flags back through WIPs. My biggest goal for anything is for someone to think “I should have noticed that,” or, making the emotional volatile moments carry that much more of a punch because of things I laced throughout it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

brevity my detested,

I think I struggle just...getting to the point lol. I think my descriptions can get a little carried away, because in my head I want the imagery to match as if you were watching a movie, when the two mediums aren’t meant to translate together. I’ll finish something and scroll back and realize “oh. that got Long.” and then awkwardly try to shave it down.

Another that’s been particularly bad lately is just comparing myself to others. I don’t think my writing is as pretty as some of the other writers I follow. Sometimes I even feel like I read old stuff of mine that beats what I put out today and wonder what happened. (tbf life was simpler back then, so I’m sure that’s. half of it)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think if you're studying, fluent, or consulting with someone who is, go for it! So long as there’s translations or otherwise easy-to-follow notes of what’s being said somewhere else that we can refer to.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Resident Evil, back when I was about 12.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Still to this day, I’m most proud of Bridges. Even if it was a short multichapter, it’s the first I ever completed, across all fandoms. Nowadays It’s my little of beacon of hope that I can finish stuff even when it feels impossible. There’s a lot working against me these days, but my heart’s still in my writing and the people it connects me with. ❤️

I’m tagging @pinesbrosfalls, @fexalted, and @fordanoia informally if you guys feel like doing it. and you reading this if you haven’t yet!

[the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see]

ALRIGHTY BOYS im not actually that energetic i just wanted to get your attention. pride is coming up and i want to celebrate!!! my goal is to write something pride-related/queer for every day of pride, so thirty pieces. these will be fairly short, just micro fics and one shots, one for each day. unfortunately, i will not actually be active enough in june pride to do it on each day, so im going to start now and schedule them for pride. (more info under cut, check it out!)

what you can do!

send in requests! these can be pairings, a certain sexuality or gender, a random word, anything you think of. i dont have enough creativity to think of thirty original ideas please help me. EVERY SINGLE REQUEST WILL BE FULFILLED. all of them. i will use thirty of them specifically for each day of pride, but every request sent in will be answered either before or after that month.

these dont have to be fics. i have two poems im going to post on two of those days (so i only need 28 requests really). they can be poems you want me to write, a pretty essay about a certain topic, etc. im expecting fic requests to be more popular, but these would be great too!

rules!

no angst. i will not be writing angst for pride. no exceptions. pride is going to be happy and soft and fluffy and There Is Nothing You Can Do About It.

smut will be allowed, however, you have to specifically request it. if you say you want two characters sleeping naked in a bed and there are condoms in their bedside drawer, thats... exactly what you're gonna get. theyre gonna sleep. theyre gonna be naked. there will happen to be condoms in a drawer. nothing will happen. HOWEVER if you request exactly that and add '(smut)' then i will write the smut. there may be references to smut/smutty moments in my fics, but im not gonna write out the sex unless you ask specifically.

no real people. i wrote one dnp fic but im not writing any more for real people because im not comfortable with it. thanks!

those are pretty much all the rules! its gonna be pretty open and fun, and i do have a goal, but i want to enjoy this. this is my first pride being out to myself and comfortable with it. lets have some fun!

these pieces will be tagged with my usual writing tag "the tree tries to write" as well as "pride pieces" so if you want to block them because you only come to me for my stupidity or you want to check them all out at once afterwards, you can do that! i'll probably also make a masterlist in july of all of them.

you can send in specific requests like "they must be sitting by a fireplace, one reading Stepsister on a kindle and the other listening to The Script while studying science on a physical textbook and then they're gonna-" etc., etc., or it can be one word, like "gale." be as vague or as direct as you want - it's entirely up to you!

thats all the info i can think of at the moment, but i'll update this if something comes up. please send in requests, i would really appreciate it! pride will be weird this year for obvious reasons, but i refuse to let that ruin it for me, so lets enjoy ourselves!

.

edit: btw if you want to get a general gist of my writing style, check this out! no this isnt spon what it's evolved a lot since then, but if you want to see a vague idea of what it is, check it out!

.

another edit: friendly reminder that queer fics dont just mean queer in an obvious way. you can have a relationship of one girl and one boy but one or both are bi or pan or some other sexuality, or one or both are trans or enby but they use gendered pronouns, etc., etc. it doesnt have to specifically be two people of the same sex in a relationship. going off of this, it doesnt HAVE to be a relationship! they can be ace or aro or just single and not ready to mingle. it could also be someone in a relationship but the significant other isnt mentioned at all, or someone coming to terms with their orientation, or someone getting ready for pride... the possibilities are endless. dont box yourself in, there arent any limits to this!!!

[companionjones]

Time Wasted

Requested by: @diva-1992

Request: May I request a Brainy x Reader Imagine? The reader has been dating him since the beginning of season 4, so maybe the episode (4x21) where he gets rebooted, instead of him acting cold towards her, he isn’t, meaning when he and Nia were kidnapped by the Children of Liberty, they also took the reader because she had been with them. The CoL kept her and Brainy together, since they figured out that the two were together. They made her watch as they tortured Brainy, and after he was rebooted and he fought the CoL, he saved the reader because he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

Fandoms: DC, Arrowverse, Supergirl

Pairing: Querl “Brainy” Dox x Reader

Warnings: Brainy is tortured and no one pays attention to that fact but you. Also, sorry if I get any events wrong chronologically.

Author’s Notes: -I’m so sorry diva, I forgot part of the request while writing this. Reader and Brainy are not kept together, and Reader does not see Brainy be tortured. If you want me to write another one, let me know. -I watched this scene over and over again while writing this, and GOD is it good. Honestly, I think Jesse deserves an Emmy for it, if anyone in the Arrowverse ever gets an Emmy lol. -Speaking of The Scene™ I realized what I wrote for this isn’t exactly what happens in the scene (or what I think happens in the scene, anyway). Because of that, I think I want to write an analysis of the scene. I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.

*******

    In hindsight, the three of you should’ve waited for J’onn to get back. However, Nia saw a young alien that needed saving, so she, you, and Brainy decided to go with plan A.

    Long story short, the three of you were captured. While soldiers were dragging you into the facility, you got separated from Brainy and Nia. The last thing you remembered was seeing Brainy’s terrified face from afar before you were knocked out.

    You woke up in a storage container. After hours of waiting and freaking out over what could be happening to Brainy and Nia, the door finally opened to reveal Brainy.

    There was something off about him. You saw it as soon as he came into view. You’d been dating the intellect for a couple months at that point, so you knew him very well. You prided yourself on being able to read Brainy so efficiently. Your skills were definitely proving their use then.

    “Brainy?” you called out to him on sight, but your voice was unsure. Was that your Brainy?

    It was like he was looking through you. “The fifth,” he clarified his identity. “Have they started torturing you yet?”

    “No.” The question was expected, but his tone took you off guard. “Brainy, are you okay? Did they do something to you?” The realization hit you hard.

    He was circling the chair you were in. “I simply re-calibrated while I was being tortured. I am now aligned with my more...emotionless ancestors.” Brainy glanced at you, and you were freed from your restraints.

    The look of utter heartbreak you were giving him must’ve been a powerful one because you could’ve sworn you spotted a flicker of emotion in his eyes. It was gone as soon as it happened.

    Brainy informed, “We must go now and meet with Agent Danvers and Supergirl. There, we will figure out a plan to free all aliens under Lex Luthor.”

    “But what about Dreamer? And where’s J’onn?” Brainy was walking so fast, you could barely keep up with him.

    The intellect explained, “I incapacitated J’onn so he could be captured. Him and Nia will give me the location of where all the aliens are being kept so we can free them all.”

    Taking a deep breath, you knew it wouldn’t do any good if you angrily argued with him. “Brainy, I think you should’ve freed Dreamer along with me. We could’ve gone back with J’onn and figured out another way to rescue the aliens. A way that J’onn and Dreamer would’ve been in less danger.”

    Brainy barely glanced over his shoulder. “That would’ve taken more time.”

    As soon as you got back, you told Alex, Lena, and Kara that Brainy left J’onn and Nia behind. They were all mad that Brainy would do such a thing, but they failed to take into account that Brainy wasn’t himself. You seemed to be the only one concerned about Brainy.

    He didn’t even look at you as he stated the facts. “Electric-current torture. The chair I was in fried all of my nerves and neurons.”

    You ignored your heart falling to your stomach and the tears threatening to spring to your eyes. You had a goal in mind. “Yeah, but what did that do to you? How did it make you feel?”

    Brainy’s head twitched. “There’s no reason for me to answer these questions. It’s wasting time.”

    “We’ve done all we can for now, Brainy. Lena’s on her way to the White House to meet with Lex. Kara is finishing up her article to get the world back on our side. We’re waiting for Dreamer to give us her location. All we can do now, is wait.” You were surprising yourself by how even your voice was.

    Brainy tried to argue. “There is always something more to do. I can--”

    “Brainy!” you called out to him in a much angrier voice. Somehow, you got the ‘emotionless’ Brainy to stop. “This is the something more to do. Answer my questions.”

    Rigidly, so rigidly, he took a seat and faced you. He seemed so confident until he actually started talking. “...It wasn’t the chair that broke me.”

    “What was it?” you quietly encouraged.

    “The chair fried my neurons, and they hit me dead center with the barrel of a gun in just the right place to reboot me after all that pain.”

    “Yes...” you nodded.

    “I would’ve passed out, but I had to keep talking. Or else they’d...”

    “You can say it, Brainy.”

    “I had to go through all of my memories. Even the ones I try to forget. The ones that aren’t mine.” He was getting visibly upset. He was showing emotion.

    “Why did you do it? Why did you do it, Brainy?” You were trying to bring him back to what you knew would ground him in reality.

    “It was the only way! It was the only way to stop them!” Brainy was finally glitching out.

    “To stop them from what, Brainy?!” you screamed.

    “From getting to you!” he yelled back, “I needed you! I need you! I need you safe! As soon as they were done with me, they were going to move on to you! I need you safe, Y/n! I needed to keep talking, no matter what I turned into. I...I needed you safe.”

    At that point, Brainy had broken down, and you had his head in your lap.

    “I know. I know you do, baby,” you soothed.

    Suddenly, Brainy was out of your lap and on his feet. He was working himself into a panic attack. “But what was I thinking?! Aligning myself with my ancestors?! If just for a second I thought that you getting hurt would help our cause...”

    “But you didn’t.” You joined Brainy standing up. “I know you’d never do that.”

    He argued, “Did you see who I was? I wasn’t myself, Y/n.”

    “But you were,” you replied. “Listen. Leaving Nia and J’onn behind? That was all your ancestors thinking. But taking me with you? Brainy, what did that do for you? For the mission?”

    Brainy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t have an answer.

    “I hate to say it, Brainy, but I’m completely irrelevant here. It would’ve made no difference whether you left me there or took me with you. Actually, you would’ve saved time by leaving me behind. And that you was very against wasting time.”

    The intellect still had trouble looking at you.

    To help Brainy, you placed your hands on the sides of his face. “See? I was never in any danger of getting hurt by you.” You caressed his cheek with your thumb and rested your forehead on his.

    Brainy accepted the intimacy. “I just don’t know how I’m going to explain myself to Nia and J’onn.”

    “That’s a whole other story,” you agreed, “But I’m going to be right here for each chapter, okay?”

    He nodded, and then the 12th level intellect shared a kiss with the being he cared for the most in existence.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics on Brainy over on my page. You should go check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[tackyink]

Here’s what would amount to chapter 1 of the fic I started the other day if I ever decide to work on it seriously. It’s the same two scenes as last plus a new one, so it’s very short, but I’ve laughed a lot writing it.

I also realized this thing has a lot of potential to merge with Inked on Skin by Wano and I can’t believe I’m here, free at last after five years busting my ass, and suddenly thinking it would be cool to make a whole fic verse with my One Piece OCs.

=======================

It was the sunniest it had been in weeks. Clear skies, twenty-seven degrees, calm clouds and weak northwestern winds blowing from Skypiea.

Veleta had left a note on the dining table telling potential travelers to feel free to use her home to rest while she was away, and to please not touch the meteorological station next to the vegetable garden. The connection to her dad’s team had been lost for six months already, so there wasn’t much for her to do and she was dying of boredom, but he might come back for it one of these days. Who knew? Not her!

She adjusted one last time the straps of her swimming vest and backpack. Her grin gleamed under the sun almost as much as the pair of riding goggles she was wearing.  

“Ready, set…” She gripped the handles of her waver firmly. “Go!”

She hit the gas and rode in a straight line towards the horizon. The White-White Sea cloud formations had some variation from day to day, but she had already determined that that was the shorter point between her home and absolute nothingness.

Other people might have called her suicidal and wondered what drove her to do this, but if Veleta had to be compared to one of the characters of the tabletop game her dad liked to play when they had visitors, she would have rolled 20 Intelligence and 2 Wisdom.

It took her a good half an hour to reach the place she was shooting for, and when she got there, with the absolute confidence of a fool with too much pride in her ideas, she drove off the white clouds into the endless blue, and a few seconds after she started dropping at breakneck speed, she hit the special button she had built into the waver and a parachute shot out of it, slowing her descent until it was safe to kick back and enjoy the view.

There was only sky, distant clouds and water as far as the eye could see, with a few dots sailing through it that must have been ships, and the promise of an island, a real island made of Vearth, far, far way. Veleta made it a mental goal to sail there.

She was elated. Her heart pounded inside her chest with excitement, and her face hurt from smiling so much. Her world was about to get so big!

And then one of the ropes securing the parachute to the waver snapped, and she was freefalling again.

With a screech that was probably heard in at least two seas above and another couple below, Veleta finished her leisurely descent by crashing into the ocean with an upturned waver and getting her backpack’s mesh caught on the breath dial exhaust. On one hand, it was a good thing that she was floating thanks to the swimming vest. On the other, she had fallen face down, and the extra buoyancy wasn’t doing her much good, considering she couldn’t turn around.

Devil Fruits weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

—

Eustass Kid was watching time pass on the prow of the Victoria Punk when he saw a projectile falling from the sky and into the sea with a spectacular splash.

He squinted at the shape of a small boat ahead and asked Killer, “The fuck is that?”

—

As it turned out, ‘that’ happened to be a pink haired girl and her failing vehicle, though a girl who didn’t know she was being appraised when she was caught in a fishing net and dragged onto a dry surface. In fact, she was having a pretty hard time staying conscious at all, and the only energy she could divert from that task was being wasted on feeling grateful that she’d been found.

When she was pulled out of the water, still tangled in the net but able to move, Veleta spent the next three minutes or so coughing out water and doing her best to hurl out the contents of her stomach into the ocean and not on these kind strangers’ ship. Said strangers gathered near her and their conversation turned increasingly confused, but they all stared at her from a distance. Perhaps the vomit had something to do with it.

She gasped for air when water stopped coming out and turned around to face her saviors and thank them, but what came out of her mouth was another screech when she saw that she was inside of a fish’s maw.

“OHGODWE’REGETTINGEATEN!” She reached for her backpack to pull out something to defend herself, but she managed to get even more tangled in the net, and she stopped struggling when she noticed no one else shared her urgency. “Huh?”

“We’re in a figurehead,” a man hiding behind a striped mask explained.

“This is a ship?!” She gaped, looking around her again. She could’ve never told that she wasn’t in a real fish. “Oh, excuse my rudeness!” She bowed, still on her knees, or tried to. Not a lot of freedom of movement inside a fishing net. “I’m Lockheed Veleta.” She flashed them a smile. “Thank you so much for saving me!”

Nobody replied right away, as if she had said something awkward. Did she make a faux-pas already? She had known people from the Blue Sea, but maybe they had a different culture. She sure as heck had never met anybody who dressed like them. Or… had a stitched mouth… but she didn’t stare, because that would surely have been rude. Maybe he had been in an accident. Maybe it was a fashion? She wanted to learn about those too. There wasn’t a lot of variety in her little island.

“How did you do that?” The redhead asked. He had a pair of goggles, too, and Veleta recognized in him a fellow stickler for safety measures. The rest of the men had been eyeing him when they weren’t staring at Veleta, so she assumed he was their leader.

“Do what?”

“Drop in the middle of the ocean!”

“Oh, of course! My parachute failed,” she said, lifting a little the tarp. It was a bit cramped inside the net, between it, the waver, her bag and herself, but she was chipper nonetheless. “I thought I was done for!”

“What are you on about?” He replied, sounding increasingly irritated. “We’re at open sea, you have to have fallen from somewhere!”

“Oooh, right! Sorry, I didn’t explain myself very well, did I?” She laughed at her own silliness. “I come from an island in the White-White Sea!”

There was another awkward silence as their confusion grew. Veleta’s smile didn’t waver.

“The White-White Sea?” The man in the mask repeated.

“Yeah! You know, where the sky islands are?” There were no signs of recognition in their faces. “People in the Blue Sea know there are islands above… right?”

A gloomy looking man wearing a hood with cute ears, conceding her point, telling the others, “She has wings.”

“I thought they were an accessory,” said the one with the stitched mouth.

“What? No! I can move them, see?” She did so as she pointed at her back.

The redhead didn’t look convinced. “Then why didn’t you fly down instead of freefalling?”

“I didn’t mean to! The parachute was supposed to work!” She was very surprised that these people were being so skeptical. “And I can’t fly! Nobody can, that’s scientifically impossible.”

The captain looked at her with a mix of disdain and disbelief and told the men, “I can’t be assed with this. Kick her off, skin her alive, do whatever you want.”

He began to walk towards the throat of the gaping fish mouth, and Veleta eyed warily the two men that approached her, but she relaxed when they only let her out of the net.

“Oh, thank you so, so much!” She said again, this time bowing properly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness!”

Veleta didn’t know why that was, but they looked mighty uncomfortable every time she thanked them. It had to be a cultural thing. Something to investigate. Maybe she needed to be more subtle? Some people were easily embarrassed by open gratitude.

Well, no matter, they seemed friendly people, even if their captain was a little grouchy. And he had a right to be, Veleta was intruding in their ship, after all. She pulled her waver upright and tested the wood to make sure it wasn’t broken. The sooner she could stop bothering them, the better.

She was gathering the tarp and ropes and shoving them at the back of the waver when the masked man said, “I’ve never seen that type of vehicle.”

Veleta was very glad to break the silence and even more to explain how her vehicle worked. “It’s a waver! We use them to sail in the sea clouds.” She twisted the handle a little so they could see the wind blowing out of the exhaust. The waver escaped her grasp for a second, but she caught it before it could launch itself towards one of her saviors. “They’re very practical, but it takes a lot of time to learn to ride one.”

Apparently, the captain hadn’t gone very far yet, because that caught his attention and he walked a few steps towards the group just to say, “Doesn’t look like you’re any good at it.”

Veleta laughed. “That’s a good one!” She had made an impressive entrance from their point of view, she realized. And she could see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes, even if he wasn’t saying anything. “But they aren’t made to fly!”

He didn’t look very happy with her response. “How’s it work? I don’t see an engine.”

“Aha!” Her eyes lit up. This was her favorite part each time she met explorers from the Blue Sea. “Here’s the trick!” She crouched behind the waver and fiddled with something inside the exhaust pipe until a piece came loose. She took out the dial that powered it and showed it to the crew. “It’s a breath dial!” She pushed the top, and it expelled a gust of wind strong enough in the captain’s face to make him take a step back. She offered it up for examination. “It’s really easy to use.”

He took the dial as his men watched him test it a few times with interest. “Not bad,” he said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” mumbled the man with the stitched mouth.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Veleta said with a grin, and she extended her hands towards the redhead to take the dial back.

The man looked at the dial, then at Veleta with a grin that could have mirrored her own if she looked like she was about to snap someone’s neck every time she smiled, which she did not. “I’ll take this as repayment.”

“Eh?” She uttered in confusion, which gave way to panic when she realized he wasn’t giving it back and he was walking away again. “EEEH?!”

“Toss her out!” He barked without looking back, motioning at the sea with a hand.

The rest of the crew didn’t waste a moment to drop the waver back in the water, grab Veleta from under her arms and launch her onto her little vessel.

“Wait!” She yelled. “I need that dial to sail! You can’t leave me here!”

But the men had stopped paying attention to her the moment they flung her away. The strange ship that had rescued her unceremoniously sailed past her, dangerously rocking her waver and abandoning her to her luck in the middle of an unknown sea.

[angst-in-space]

june ‘22 writing progress

words written: 18.9k

most words written in a day: 2212

least words written in a day: 116

current yearly total: 124.1k

projects worked on:

- finished writing ch 9 of sylvix dreamscape fix and started writing ch 10 - started editing ch 8 of dreamscape fic - finished writing new ending of my ya sci-fi book!! AT LAST! - outlining arctic monster book - started writing a twiyor fic

works published in june:

none

june goals:

- finish editing ch 8 of sylvix dreamscape fic and hand off to betas - finish writing a draft of ch 9 and start writing ch 10 - maybe start editing ch 9 if i have time? - finish writing the new end of my book - cut down my book word count enough so that i can actually add the new ending to it lol - edit renga fic if i have time? - apply to queerkidlit mentorship - maybe keep outlining twiyor fic if i have time

july goals:

- write ~30k for camp nano - finish editing ch 8 of dreamscape fic and hand off to betas - finish writing the last chapter of dreamscape fic - start next round of revisions on ya sci-fi book - continue outlining/zero-drafting arctic monster book - work on twiyor fic - edit renga fic if i have time? - start editing ch 9 of dreamscape if i have time?

notes:

LOL SO.... june was a very very wild month for me (mostly in a good way!) but yeah. holy shit. 

soooo if you’ve been following my updates all year you probably know i have been applying to mentorship after mentorship for months and have not gotten any. well!! firstly around june 10th i got multiple full manuscript requests from a mentorship i applied to called queeryfest. i was very excited to receive these requests of course but also panicked a bit bc at that point i was not really happy with the state of my manuscript. i had a mostly-finished new ending that i thought would improve it a lot, but the rest of the book was extremely long and the new end would add a significant chunk to the word count. 

soooo i decided to take it upon myself to write the rest of the new end and edit like 20k? 30k?? words out of my book in like, 4 days. this was a very exhausting and stressful experience that i would not recommend to anyone and hope to never relive again LOL however, it did push me to finally finish writing the better ending and cut a lot of unnecessary stuff out of my ms. also somewhere in the middle of all this i also applied to the queerkidlit mentorship. woo!!

and uh long story short.... by some miracle all that work paid off bc i was not offered one but TWO mentorships on the last day of june (happy pride month to me, amiright??) and it happened to work out nicely where my queerkidlit mentor is willing to wait a few months to do our mentorship in the fall while i complete my queeryfest mentorship. in other words i will be doing two mentorships back to back which should hopefully really help me whip my manuscript into shape 😤 for the time being i’m in a bit of a writing limbo... my queeryfest mentors will be giving me an edit letter sometime within the next ~2 weeks so depending on what they say, i’ll probably end up having to dedicate the last half of this month and most of august/september doing book revisions. but!! until then i’m putting my book aside and focusing on fic for a bit (for the most part). 

i am very nearly done writing sylvix dreamscape fic! like legitimately....i am writing the last scene before the epilogue right now, so i’m hoping to finish that very soon (although....i will miss it...sniffles). then ofc i will still have to edit chapters 8-10 which will probably...take me a while lolll but hopefully i can get those edited/posted over the next couple months.

i also have that renga fic that i finished like a year ago that i still have not edited/posted so uhhh i keep telling myself i will edit that but....we shall see akdfjdk

oh and i also started writing a twiyor fic but it’s. not the one i outlined. in fact not totally sure i will end up posting it cuz it’s uh yeah *runs away* buuut for now i’m just writing it for fun and we’ll see what happens ;)  otherwise uhhh yeah gonna be aiming to write around 30k for camp nano and that’s gonna be a combo of rewriting/writing scenes for my ya sci-fi book, outlining/zero drafting my (maybe?) next book, and fic writing. so yahoo!!

this was a really long update.... everything happens so much. but truly i am super excited and looking forward to the next few months!!! 

[cruelangelstheses]

the path to girlhood

fandom: love live! rating: T characters: rin hoshizora, hanayo koizumi words: 3.9k additional tags: character study, au, trans girl rin, bullying, internalized transphobia, high school description: rin struggles to accept herself at her new school when she discovers a love for dancing. a/n: hello hello!! i wrote this a little over a month ago and decided to finally polish it and post it! this au is pretty similar to canon except that they’re just regular high school girls and not idols. i promise it’s not as angsty as the tags make it seem!! i will never write write a fic in which rin hoshizora is cis. happy pride to my fellow Transes of Gender <3 title comes from kururin miracle aka rin’s Trans Song. i love her so much. that's my fuckign daughter

read it on ao3

—

On the first day of high school, Rin Hoshizora goes to school in a skirt.

She hasn’t worn one out in public since she was a child, having resigned herself to hiding inside hoodies and sweatpants. As she wanders the unfamiliar hallways, Rin tries not to be conscious of the way some of her peers sneak curious glances at her from behind notebooks or open locker doors. If nothing else, she hopes the button on her backpack—a striped flag of pink, white, and blue—will be enough to clue them in, if any of them even know what it symbolizes.

Last month, Rin’s parents successfully enrolled her into the local but relatively well-regarded Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, mainly thanks to “proof” from her doctor that she has, in fact, started taking hormones and that she is, in fact, a Real Trans Girl, whatever that means. It’s an old, impressive school with plenty of extracurriculars and classes to choose from, and her best friend, Hanayo, goes there, too. Most importantly, though, it’s a chance to reinvent herself, to meet new people who don’t know her dead name—to make a statement, simply by wearing the Otonokizaka uniform and sitting in an Otonokizaka classroom, that says, I am a girl just as you are.

So far, it doesn’t feel quite as empowering as she thought it would.

Instead, she feels like a newborn baby, cut from the umbilical cord of the closet, naked and confused as she’s thrust into a strange new world. There’s no turning back now, no chance to abort the mission. All she can do is step forward into the light, with all the beauty and danger that it brings.

—

When Rin steps into her homeroom class, a soft, familiar voice calls out, “Rin-chan!”

Hanayo jumps up out of her chair and scurries over, her red glasses bouncing on her face. Rin grins and wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and for just a moment, she forgets about the rest of the world. There’s nothing outside this classroom, nothing outside her best friend’s warm embrace.

Rin opens her mouth to say something, anything—a how have you been or a help me please I don’t know if I can do this—but she doesn’t get the chance, because then the bell rings, and the homeroom teacher strides into the room. In a flurry, the students rush to their desks. Hanayo has saved a seat for Rin in the back, right next to her, and Rin sighs in relief as she slides into the chair.

While the teacher introduces herself, Rin scans the room, searching for any sign of a reaction from her classmates. Most of them are facing forward, listening or at least pretending to listen to the teacher. One girl sitting a few seats away pokes her friend on the shoulder and gestures to Rin. “Wow,” she mutters, just loud enough that it’s clear she wants Rin to hear it. “They’ll let anyone in this school, huh?”

Rin’s face heats up, and she quickly looks away, down at her empty notebook. In an attempt to seem nonchalant, she pulls a pen out of her pencil case and starts doodling a cat to distract herself. She likes her short hair—it’s cute and easy to manage, and it doesn’t get in her face when she’s playing sports—but suddenly she wishes it were longer so she could hide behind it. That probably wouldn’t work too well, though���before long, she’s sure her peers will be able to recognize her just by her decidedly unfeminine frame.

“Psst,” Hanayo whispers, and Rin turns her head to look at her. Hanayo props up her notebook horizontally. On an otherwise clean page, she’s written in pretty, curly handwriting, I believe in you! with little hearts all around it.

Rin flashes her a tiny smile and mouths a thank-you, but she still can’t shake the feeling that everything about her is wrong. Her knees are too knobby, her handwriting isn’t neat enough, her voice is too loud. She feels like a randomized Sim, like someone just threw together a collection of traits and lumped them all into a person. She’d like to give the spirits a “You Tried” sticker.

—

Rin likes talking to people. She likes jumping in on a conversation about athletics or music or pets and talking about her favorite type of cat (orange tabbies, obviously) or her favorite sports (how could she choose just one?). She likes introducing herself to those who look shy or lonely—in fact, it’s how she met Hanayo. Today, though, she finds herself infuriatingly tongue-tied, stumbling over her words in a way she never has before. Though she attempts, as always, to appear friendly, most of the girls she talks to seem to be at least somewhat uncomfortable with or uninterested in her presence, as if they’re just waiting for her to go away. The last thing Rin wants is to make someone unhappy or upset, so once she senses that she isn’t quite welcome in a particular group or conversation, she politely withdraws from it.

When Rin walks into the bathroom, all the girls that were hanging out and doing their makeup immediately grab their things and leave.

Rin overhears a few more rude comments throughout the day, but no one is overly confrontational. She finds herself pondering over girls and the way they show aggression—how girls who speak disparagingly about others behind their backs are referred to as “catty,” while physical fights between girls are often called “catfights.” Either way, aggressive or passive-aggressive, dealing in physical damage or emotional, girls are consistently compared to cats. It’s unfair to cats, Rin thinks, to associate them only with animosity and violence. Cats can be sweet and loving, too. Cats wouldn’t hate her just for wearing skirts or referring to herself as a “she.”

“Rin-chan,” Hanayo says later that day when they walk home from school together, “are you going to join any clubs or activities? They’ve got a lot of sports.”

“I might do soccer,” Rin replies, “and maybe basketball in the winter. But I’ll have to try it out first to see if I like it.”

Hanayo raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Rin loves soccer; they both know she loves soccer. What Rin’s really saying is, I’ll have to see if I’m treated in a way that deters me from playing.

“Well, if you don’t like it,” Hanayo says delicately, “you could do other sports that aren’t team-oriented. There’s track and cross-country. And there’s dance.”

“Dance?” Rin repeats. “What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”

“Well, you’re so coordinated, and you have really good stamina,” Hanayo says, twirling a strand of light brown hair. “And you like music. It looks like it’d be really fun.”

“You should do it, then,” Rin says, not unkindly.

Hanayo chuckles sheepishly. “I’d like to, but I’ve been too nervous to go by myself. Maybe you could come with me? Just to the first couple of meetings.”

Rin frowns. It’s not that she dislikes the idea of dancing, necessarily; she’s just never considered it. Dancing is for pretty girls with limbs as pliable as putty and skin softer than rose petals, not a scrappy little transgender tomboy with scraped-up knees and a finger that didn’t heal properly because she took it out of the splint before she was supposed to. Dancing is for girls who would never be mistaken for boys.

“The people there seem really nice,” Hanayo adds. “And I’ll be with you, remember?”

After a few moments, Rin finds herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she says, trying to picture herself dancing to pop music or classical arrangements. It doesn’t quite feel right. “But if it falls on the same day as soccer, I’m choosing soccer.”

—

At the first soccer practice, they have a scrimmage against one another. It’s a perfect chance for Rin to show her teammates what she can do, to earn their trust and start to build camaraderie just like when she played on boys’ teams. Within the first few minutes of the mock game, however, it becomes abundantly clear that most of the girls have no interest in establishing a rapport with her. Some shift uncomfortably whenever she’s near. Others, especially those on defense, play particularly aggressively with her, pressing so close to her that they almost touch, nearly shoving her out of the way, or “accidentally” kicking at her heels when attempting to steal the ball from her. Nearly all of them seem to refuse to pass her the ball, even when she’s wide open, and even though she’s one of the fastest and most experienced members, so that the only times she ever actually manages to get it are when she steals it from the other side. The coach claps whenever Rin scores a goal, but hardly anyone else does, and it only seems to be out of politeness.

At the end of the practice, Rin is about ready to fall over in exhaustion, but not in a good way. She doesn’t think she’s ever had to work so hard in her life to try to make people like her, or at least play nice with her.

Hanayo texts her that evening. How’d it go?

Not great :-( I think I’ll come with you tomorrow to the dance club, Rin responds.

Hanayo’s reply comes a few seconds later. Oh no I’m so sorry!! Tomorrow will be better I promise!!

Rin sighs and flops down on her bed. “I sure hope so,” she mumbles to no one as she stares blankly across the room. A dress she bought online hangs on her closet door, unworn.

—

The room used for the dance club is similar to a gymnasium, except that it’s smaller and has walls made entirely of mirrors. When Rin steps out onto the hardwood floor and sees a few other girls chatting in the center of the room with a dance instructor, her chest tightens.

Beside her, Hanayo takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous, too,” she says, taking Rin’s hand in her own. “But we’re here together.”

They amble up to the small group, and the dance instructor turns to them with a smile. “Oh! It’s so good to see some new faces,” she says. “You can call me Miyazaki-sensei.”

“Hi,” Rin and Hanayo say in unison. They both giggle nervously.

“Hey, there’s no need to be nervous!” says a spunky girl with a side ponytail. “Anyone can learn to dance. I’m living proof! Plus it’d make great material for the talent show!”

Rin and Hanayo exchange glances. “Talent show?” Rin says.

“Yeah!” the girl says. “Every year right before summer break, the school holds a talent show. Anyone can enter! It’s really fun! Last year Kotori-chan, Umi-chan, and I performed as a trio,” she gestures to the other two girls in the room, “and we’re hoping to do it again this year! Sign-ups should be—uhhh, Umi-chan, when are the sign-ups again?”

One of the girls, Umi, sighs in exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “Two Mondays from now. So not this coming Monday, but the one after that.”

“Great!” says the ponytail girl. Turning back to Rin and Hanayo, she adds, “Are you two friends? You should perform as a duo! It would be so cute! I bet I could find the perfect song for you guys—”

Miyazaki holds up a hand. “Why don’t we see if they actually enjoy it first, hm?” she says, amused.

First, they go around and introduce themselves. Miyazaki and the other girls seem nice enough; in fact, Rin thinks she saw Honoka, the ponytail girl, smile and wave at her as she walked into Otonokizaka on the first day of class. She appears to just love and accept everyone; her sincerity is almost childish, but charming nonetheless.

Then they get into the dancing. The three other girls, all second years, seem to know what they’re doing when it comes to planning their performance, so Miyazaki spends most of her time teaching Rin and Hanayo some simple moves to a handful of familiar pop songs.

Slowly, Rin can’t help but unfold. The satisfaction that blooms in her chest whenever she gets a move right, when she shifts her body perfectly to the rhythm of the music, is such a pleasant shock to her system that she feels herself letting her guard down, opening up. She and Hanayo laugh whenever they screw up a step, and no matter how many times they fail, Miyazaki’s patience and attentiveness never waver. When Rin glances over at the other girls, she finds them completely absorbed in their practice; only occasionally does she notice any of them looking her way, and when they do, it’s not with the piercing eyes of judgment, but the joy of sharing in something they love. In this room, Rin doesn’t have to worry about how others see her. She can just be.

—

Hanayo and Rin attend every dance rehearsal together. It’s a small, close-knit group, and even though they aren’t all working together on the same exact thing, Rin can feel that sense of camaraderie that she’s been missing. They’re all constantly looking to improve, to try new things, to create something lively and beautiful. The world is their canvas, their bodies the brushes, the music the paint. For Rin, dancing becomes an unexpected refuge. In the dance room, no one throws crumpled-up papers at her head or tries to trip her down the stairs; no one whispers ugly words in her ear as she walks by.

After hours of deliberation on both their parts, and a lot of convincing (read: begging) on Honoka’s part, Rin and Hanayo decide to take her suggestion and sign up for the talent show as a dancing duo. Honoka apparently spends an inordinate amount of time picking out the perfect song for them, an upbeat tune from an upcoming idol about accepting oneself. “Trust me,” she says, “the audience will love it. Idols are all the rage these days.”

Rin suspects that Honoka picked it out on purpose for its lyrics, but for what it’s worth, it is a catchy song, the kind of song that makes Rin want to jump up and dance whenever she hears it. Luckily for her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

Miyazaki helps them come up with the choreography, and they spend the next few months working avidly to perfect it. Even on weekends, they often meet up at one of their houses and practice for hours. Only if they feel that they did the best they possibly could will either of them feel comfortable enough to get up onstage and let hundreds of potentially unforgiving eyes gaze upon them.

Every once in a while, a particularly nasty comment or incident will give Rin pause, and she’ll feel an almost overwhelming urge to beg Hanayo to let them drop out of the talent show. She wouldn’t do that, though; she’d never want to force her best friend to turn her back on an opportunity just for her. Besides, she’ll be okay as long as Hanayo is there with her.

—

The day before the talent show, Hanayo isn’t in school.

During lunch, Rin calls her in a panic in one of the bathroom stalls. “What’s going on?” she hisses. “Our final rehearsal is tonight! Where are you?”

“I have pneumonia,” Hanayo replies.

Rin feels like the floor is falling out from underneath her. Words crowd in her mouth, but all that comes out is, “In summer?”

Hanayo chuckles halfheartedly. “Yeah. I think I got it from my grandfather. You know his immune system isn’t the best. I don’t think I’ll be able to—” She breaks off into a fit of coughing. “I can’t come tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform tomorrow. I went to the doctor yesterday after school, and he says I need to rest until the antibiotics start working.”

Rin recalls the past few days, how Hanayo had been coughing for a little while and seemed more out of breath than usual. She’d hoped it was just a cold, that it would go away in no time. Now Hanayo is sick in bed, her lungs filled with fluid, and they’re scheduled to perform tomorrow.

“Kayo-chin, I—I can’t do it on my own,” she says, her heart starting to race at the thought of standing alone on that stage.

“Sure you can,” Hanayo says. “Just…finish the school day and then go to rehearsal. I’m sure Miyazaki-sensei can help you out.” Then she hangs up before Rin has the chance to argue.

The rest of her classes are a blur. Her mind spins with worst-case scenarios, and her hands shake too much for her to even try to doodle. She speaks to no one, afraid that if she opens her mouth, nothing coherent will come out.

As soon as the dismissal bell rings, Rin snatches her things and races down the hall to the dance room. Her hands are so full that she kicks the door open with her foot.

Miyazaki flashes a smile at her, but it quickly dissipates once she sees the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Rin drops her things on the floor against the wall. “Kayo-chin’s sick,” she says breathlessly. “Pneumonia. She can’t perform tomorrow. We have to drop out. I can’t do it without her; we have to drop out—”

Miyazaki holds up both her hands. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. Deep breaths, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Rin nods reluctantly and tries to steady her breathing. She hears the door open and close behind her, and then Honoka says, “Where’s Hanayo-chan?”

“She’s sick,” Miyazaki says calmly. “Rin’s probably going to have to perform by herself tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” Kotori says. “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Rin-chan can do it, though!” Honoka says. “We’ve all seen her in action. She’ll do great!”

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Umi adds matter-of-factly. “You two were basically doing the same moves, right? It’s not like you were ballroom dancing. You won’t have to change much of the choreography to turn it into a solo act. And we can help you.”

Rin shakes her head again, faster. “It’s not that. I’m not worried about how I’ll do. I’m worried about how it’ll look. I’m not one of those pretty girls everyone loves. I’m different. And everyone’s eyes will be on me and no one else. I’ll be the center of attention…and I just don’t know if I can deal with how they’ll react to that. It suits me to be a partner or a member of a group, so I can blend in more, so someone else can shine. I can’t be the girl who shines. Not like this.”

“Of course you can!” Honoka blurts. “People are afraid of what they don’t understand. But you’re a girl just like the rest of us. Now’s your chance to show everyone. You’re at the Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, aren’t you?”

“But I tried to show everyone,” Rin says, her shoulders slumping. “That’s what I thought going to this school would do. But people still treat me like I’m just too different for them. Like I’m a failed girl, like I’m the wrong kind of girl.”

It’s Miyazaki who speaks up next.

“Then that’s their problem,” she says, “not yours. There’s no such thing as a ‘wrong kind of girl.’ There are girls with short hair and girls who love sports and girls who like to work on cars and girls who wear tuxedos and girls who like to build things—and girls who were mistakenly raised as boys. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can be free of what others think of you. People are going to judge you no matter what you do. So if dancing brings you joy, and you want to share that joy with other people, then I want you to dance your heart out on that stage tomorrow.”

For a moment, all is silent. Then Rin chuckles sheepishly. She’s right. Of course she’s right.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Who wants to help me touch up this choreography?”

—

It’s the day before summer break, and the air buzzes with excitement. Even from backstage, Rin can feel her classmates’ gazes from out in the auditorium. Her heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of her chest and make a run for it, and part of her wants to follow suit. Deep down, though, she knows she’s ready. She’s worked as hard as she possibly could. She’s going to stay, and she’s going to perform like her life depends on it. She has to, for Hanayo.

Rin adjusts her earrings and checks her makeup one final time in the backstage mirror before Miyazaki pops her head in. “Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are almost done,” she says. “You’re up.”

Rin smooths out her dress, a cute pastel pink, the very same one she bought online over the winter. It’s her first time wearing it in public, and it fits her like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She takes a deep breath and glances down at her phone, which glows brightly with a new text message from Hanayo. I believe in you!! it reads, followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

Rin smiles, then fixes the pink barrette in her hair and heads out to the curtain area.

Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are walking offstage when Rin arrives. “You’ll do great!” Honoka whispers to her as she walks by, giving her a brief, sweaty hug. Kotori claps enthusiastically, and Umi puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Up next,” the principal says from the sound box, “we have Rin Hoshizora!”

The crowd claps politely. Rin tries her best not to look at any of them as she ambles onto the stage; her focus is only on the music and her body.

When she hears the opening of the song, all the fear and self-consciousness that’s been building up in her seems to fade away, replaced by instinct and muscle memory. She knows how to do this. She’s been doing it multiple days a week for months now.

For most of the first verse, the crowd is silent, as if they aren’t quite sure what to make of her. Then, when she bounces across the stage as the song shifts into the chorus, a few people whoop and cheer, and that’s all Rin needs to keep herself moving, to let the melody carry her home. She’s never felt more beautiful, more purely and authentically her. There’s so much she often hates about her body, but right now, she’s thankful for everything that makes her up, from her long limbs to her rectangular frame. Dancing, she’s discovered, isn’t just for conventionally attractive cis girls. It’s for anyone, as long as they have the passion and the resolve.

Honoka was right about the song choice—by the end, some people are clapping and dancing along, even singing the parts that they know. When Rin finishes the song with a smile, a wink, and a pose, the crowd responds in raucous applause. More than a few people in the audience seem shocked, and several others are smirking, shaking their heads, or mumbling to each other.

And yet, Rin finds it doesn’t particularly bother her. She’s realized something about this sudden turnaround: their acceptance of her is conditional, but her happiness is not. If being herself makes others uncomfortable…well, that’s their problem, not hers.