#My answer would be the very same just with a few tweaks

[kaythefloppa]

Whenever I think about the topic of a fourth season of The Lion Guard (beyond the fact that there won't be one and that it was never planned), I don't often think about it as a continuation of where the show left off, but the main storyline (from Return of the Roar to Return to the Pride Lands) lasting for four seasons, (i.e. if 4 seasons were commissioned for the show from the beginning, instead of 3).

Here's how I'd imagine this hypothetical four-season version of TLG would go:

Season 1: Introduces The Lion Guard, their enemies, establishes and sets up ‘the norm’ for the series. Re-introduces characters from the movie.

Season 2: Introduces Scar and focuses on his revenge plot as well as Kion and the Guard gathering as many forces as they can to unite him. Ends with his defeat (essentiallly, the entire Scar arc lasts the whole season).

Season 3: Focuses on The Lion Guard following their battle with Scar. The conflict is how things have changed since the battle, and how it has affected the group. So there'd be some story in between the end of the final battle and the beginning of the journey. Would also set up Makucha as the main antagonist for the latter half of the series. The season finale ends with them leaving the Tree of Life to regain their strength with peace restored.

Season 4: Picks up at the Tree of Life and focuses on the Guard healing and defeating their new enemies. Ends with a one hour special involving their return in order to cap off everything in the show.

[mocchiixxx]

Unexpected Muse

(Woozi x Reader) Genre: Fluff, Humor, Accidental Genius AU

Summary: Woozi is struggling to compose a song, so he steps out for a break—only to return and find his girlfriend messing with his studio setup. What starts as harmless button-pressing turns into an accidental masterpiece, solving the problem he spent hours trying to fix. Now, he’s forced to admit that his completely untrained girlfriend might just be his greatest muse.

Woozi sighed as he stepped out of his studio, running a hand through his hair. He had been staring at the same melody for hours, tweaking every note, yet nothing sounded right. His usual creative spark felt dimmer than usual, so he decided to take a break— maybe a short walk would help clear his mind.

Meanwhile, you arrived at his studio, excited to surprise him with some snacks and moral support. However, when you walked in, the room was empty.

"Huh… where’d he go?" you mumbled, setting the food down on a nearby table.

Your eyes drifted to the massive setup in front of you— the soundboard, the computer, the keyboard, and… so many buttons.

Curiosity got the best of you.

Cautiously, you sat down in his chair, your fingers hovering over the controls. What is he working on? you wondered, pressing a random key. A low synth sound echoed through the room.

"Ooooh," you grinned. "This is fun."

One button turned into two. Two turned into five. Before you knew it, you were layering beats, adjusting volume levels, and even adding a random melody just because it sounded nice.

Was it good? Who knew.

Was it fun? Absolutely.

You bobbed your head to your accidental track, completely unaware of time passing—until a very familiar voice cut through your focus.

"...What are you doing?"

You froze.

Turning your head slowly, you found Woozi standing by the door, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. His usual unreadable expression was on full display, but his eyes were flickering with something unreadable.

"Uh…" You gulped. "Surprise?"

Woozi sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Please tell me you didn’t touch anything important."

"Define important," you said weakly.

He exhaled and walked over, taking your spot in the chair. His fingers moved quickly, clicking around the software. You braced yourself for a lecture, but then…

He stopped.

Frowned.

Replayed what you had done.

Again.

And again.

"...Wait." He leaned in closer to the screen, adjusting the headphones around his neck. His brows furrowed in deep concentration as he listened to your masterpiece for the fifth time.

You shifted awkwardly. "Sooo… is it bad?"

Woozi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled out his keyboard and started playing along with your accidental melody. He added a few tweaks here and there, adjusting the tempo.

Then, out of nowhere, he grinned.

A real grin.

The kind he only got when inspiration struck.

"You just solved my problem," he muttered in disbelief, eyes locked onto the screen.

You blinked. "I—what?"

Woozi turned to you, his smile still lingering. "This. What you just made. It’s actually good."

Your jaw dropped. "Liar."

"I'm serious!" He laughed, shaking his head. "How did you even do this?"

You scratched your head sheepishly. "Uh… I just pressed buttons until it sounded nice?"

Woozi stared at you for a moment before letting out a deep sigh, amusement flickering in his eyes. "So, you’re telling me… I struggled for hours—and you, someone who has zero experience, just walked in and accidentally made something usable?"

You grinned. "Pretty much."

Woozi groaned, slumping in his chair. "I hate that this actually helps."

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Guess that means I’m your muse now, huh?"

He shot you a side glance, lips twitching into a small smirk. "You’ve always been."

Your heart did a little flip.

"Okay, producer-nim," you teased. "Let’s finish this masterpiece together."

Woozi chuckled, shaking his head before pulling you into his lap, handing you a pair of headphones. "Just… don’t touch anything without telling me first."

"No promises."

"You’re going to be the death of me."

"Yet you love me."

He sighed dramatically, but his smile gave him away. "Unfortunately."

You grinned. "Fortunately."

A/N: Woozi would absolutely be both impressed and so done if his girlfriend accidentally made a hit song. My mind just keep flooding with ideas so I have to craft them down.

[clonerightsagenda]

To celebrate space archives getting published I might as well post an abandoned short story from 3 years ago that deals with a lot of the same themes in a more concentrated way. This is my toxic yuri for 2025. Enjoy and see if you can remember the post I made about it back in 2022.

This Story Was Made Possible By Viewers Like You

I never liked confession cams.

You know, someone sits in a soundproof room with just the cameras and talks all teary-eyed about how they’ve struggled, and how they really feel, now that no one can hear. But of course someone can hear. You can. You’re there, in the room with them, a few months in the future and a hundred miles away. It’s all a performance. Everything is.  

I’m not doing that, ok? This is for me.

They came to the house with bags full of clothing and artificial smiles. They came with extra toothbrushes and half-constructed plans. They came with high hopes and already dented dreams.

I came with nothing. I was already there.

It started the same as always. They jumped when I greeted them and then stole glances at each other’s reactions. No one said anything back. I didn’t expect them to. I’d been getting everything ready. Twenty bedrooms, names on the doors. Lights on, temperature tweaked up there, down here, never quite comfortable. I’m very good at that part of my job.

That first arrival scene goes through a lot of editing. Cut out the boring bits, highlight the quirks that make contestants stand out. The details we highlight set the audience’s perception of each player. Create heroes, villains, characters. No one on these shows presents themselves as they really are. You get the construct.

Me? I get a little bit more.

Let’s skip the boring parts. They milled around for a while before finding their rooms. Most unpacked their clothes. One placed a photograph on her dressing table, angling it so it would be in easy view of the camera. A bid for sympathy, I figured, but my opinion wasn’t the one that mattered.

The files would have told me that her name was Gloria Martina Sosa, contestant ID seventeen, age twenty-nine, pronouns she/her. Employed in finance and competing because her mother needed to pay for a medical procedure. The files would tell me that, but I already knew.

This time, there was a container of chocolates on the table when Gloria inched down the hallway to the dining area. She was good at finding her way around the floorplan already, even though it was designed to send them circling in the wrong direction and bumping into each other. I wondered if they noticed.

She approached the chocolates cautiously. She knew it had to be a test. I knew she liked chocolate.

“Can –” She paused before old-fashioned manners asserted themselves. “May I have one?”

“Yes,” I said.

She slid her hand in. Then she hesitated again, fingers still reaching. “Would you like one?”

I checked to see if someone else had entered the room. Nothing on the visuals from any of the dining room cameras. She was the only one there.

She was talking to me.

“No,” I said, after an obvious pause. Then, because of the manners, “No thank you.”

Her fingers curled around a chocolate. “That was stupid of me.”

I didn’t need to answer that, so instead I thought about her motives. I couldn’t show favoritism; she should know that. Did she want to look empathetic for the audience? She wouldn’t win any points cozying up to me.

Maybe she meant it as a genuine kindness. It was early enough that she might not know better.

“Do you ever wish you could eat?” she asked. The chocolate was in her mouth, but her fingers folded and refolded the square of foil.

Why was she still talking to me? I couldn’t tell her it was against the rules – it wasn’t, officially. So I said, “This won’t make good television.”

Her eyes widened. She was thinking of all the time she’d wasted here, the time her competitors might have been using to build alliances or look for clues. She yanked the container of chocolates off the table and ran back toward the hallway. She’d use them as an offering, maybe, or a bargaining chip. She didn’t say thank you, or goodbye.

Why would she? I’m not a player. I’m the host.

#

I know how this sounds, so let me set the record straight. I’m not an artificial intelligence. People love to claim they’ve invented a thinking machine, but when you drill down to the bones of one you’ll always find an algorithm. Sure, this place runs on all sorts of automation, but at the end of the day, you need a human to come up with a wicked twist or make sure the tracking software doesn’t mix up Mateo and Benjamin because there was a mishap in the laundry room and they’re wearing each other’s clothes. AI doesn’t have the flexibility a project like this demands. I don’t think it ever will. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking, since if it happens, I’ll be out of a job. It’s not a great job (I’m making minimum wage here) but I don’t have to pay rent or buy groceries, so the money adds up.

There used to be a whole team – six-hour shifts, front-end and back-end crews – but budget cuts hit everywhere. It gets quiet sometimes, but at least I don’t have to make a big production of hiding when I’m going to the bathroom with a tampon. I do the best I can, drink a lot of coffee, and chalk any delays or mistakes up to a buggy operating system. There are surgeries you can get to keep you sharper – some employers insist on them – but I wouldn’t let anyone stick neurotech in my brain even if I could afford it. Too many horror stories. It’s easy to keep them thinking I’m a machine. I slap a voice filter on, and my disinterest in everyone’s drama means I don’t have to fake sounding inhumanly bored.

But enough about the woman behind the curtain. That’s not what anyone tunes in for.

#

About half the guests roamed the halls after dark the first night, which meant prowlers skulking around corners and smacking into each other. I downed two energy drinks and kept an eye out for the most entertaining close calls so I could cut them together later. On other nights I’d feel safe sneaking some sleep, but the first was always busy.

Gloria stayed in her room. Instead of climbing into bed right away, she knelt and whispered something in Spanish. The translation software would handle that for anyone who wanted to know what she was praying for. I could guess.

When she finished, she looked up. They’re never sure where to focus when they talk to me. I’ve learned to read that lost expression as a sign I’m about to be on call. “If I need something, do I just ask?”

“That’s correct.” When she didn’t say anything else, I continued, “Did you need something?”

“Not right now.” Not from me.

#

The next few weeks passed the usual way. Dean found an immunity stone hidden behind the false back of the pantry. Three different groups swore ill-fated alliances while pretending to be preoccupied with their laundry. The first contestants were voted off, mostly because of dismal challenge performances and in one case because Heather kept stealing other people’s toothpaste. (Luckily for me, I didn’t have to listen to them moping about being eliminated. The losers’ quarters had cameras, of course – everywhere does – but none of those feeds went to my workstation.)

Most of the time the participants treated me as so much background, but there are always exceptions. One afternoon Haruto and Farah were arguing about an inane piece of early twenty-first century pop culture trivia and wanted me to tell them who was right, and Anna was asking about the latest sports scores, and one of the microphones in the dining room wouldn’t connect right even though I’d run troubleshooting, and –

“Is Corey busy?”

I pressed the intercom button for Gloria’s room and said, “One moment, please.” Then I switched channels (click). “The home team won their last game 4 to 1.” Click. “Yes, it was the same actor; they used CGI to make him look younger.” Click. “Sorry for the delay.” I punched in Corey’s ID to pull up the last place the cameras had seen him. “A lot of guests are requesting my services right now.”

I don’t know what did it. Maybe a hint of exasperation crept into my tone, or the keystrokes filtered through the speakers, or a real sentient computer program wouldn’t apologize. Whatever tipped her off, Gloria’s eyebrows pulled down. It wasn’t an expression of surprise as much as it said, ‘I knew it’.  

“You’re not an AI,” she said. “Are you.”

Damn. I could have lied. The producers would’ve wanted me to, but they left me there to play the game however I chose. Besides, I’d already paused too long. A machine wouldn’t have to think about it.

“A lot of the answers are. There’s a library of canned responses for the most predictable questions. I’m here for the more complicated problems.”

“Here?” She spun her eyes around the room like I might pop out of a closet.

“On site. Behind the scenes.”

“But you can see and hear me?” She hunched in on herself. “I don’t like that.”

“You signed up to be on a TV show.”

“That’s different.”

Because I wasn’t an adoring fan. “Did you want an answer to your question?”

“You can see him too?” She was hung up on that considering the position she put herself in. The contracts they signed asked them to give away all sorts of control.

“I can see everyone. I’m not watching all the time, though. That’s part of the automation. I get notified when there’s activity that might be interesting.” I checked the relevant screen, which showed me the feed from camera 251. “He’s brushing his teeth.”

“Is that interesting?”

“Not according to the system.” Showering would be, because the system’s a pervert. So are the folks back home, although the editors make sure to frame things just right so that we can deny we’re showing anything explicit.

She sighed. She kept her head angled toward the floor, like denying the cameras eye contact preserved some sliver of her privacy. “I guess I can’t opt out.”

“Not until you go home. You could try to be less interesting, but it’ll cost you.” That strayed dangerously close to advice. “I’ll delete this conversation, though. Have to preserve my image.”

That got her head to pop up. “You can do that?”

I wiggled my fingers over the keyboard, a pointless gesture since she couldn’t see me. “As long as you’re in this building, I’m basically God.”

“God.” Her lip curled. I’d seen her praying earlier. Maybe my boast sounded like blasphemy. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ve got rules. Sorry,” I added, repeating that human touch that betrayed me.

“I don’t know why I asked.” She looked away from the camera again. “Don’t watch me sleep.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She was pretty. But watching a pretty woman over the cameras isn’t automatically creepy. If it is, what does that say about you?

I tried to keep my word. Gloria wanted to believe she still had boundaries, and unlike our loyal viewers, I don’t get my kicks spying on people. Every so often, though, my eyes crept back to her square on my monitor. I knew so much about these people, and she was the only one who knew I existed. That knowledge was like a blinking notification that never went away.

#

I didn’t expect Gloria to talk to me again, and for a few days she didn’t. She sat in silence while I announced the day’s events or when other participants asked me questions, a frown mostly smoothed off her face. I saw it, though. That’s what she was frowning about.

Four days after our conversation, she was tearing her room apart looking for something. It’d been twenty minutes, and she wasn’t going to find it. I was waiting for her to figure that out. She groaned, tilted her head up, and asked, “Do you know where my charger is?”

“Under the sofa in the living room.”

She jumped. “That was fast.”

“Pretty good AI impression, right?” I hadn’t been watching her sleep, but I’d been paying attention. So sue me. If she decided to spill my secret, I’d have to… well, I didn’t know. It had never happened before.

“Is anyone else there right now?”

“Haruto and Farah.” Still arguing, somehow. Getting worked up about each other’s vintage cinema opinions was their version of entertainment.

She sighed and sat on the side of her bed. “I don’t want to get sucked into whether we need any more live action remakes. Can you tell me when they leave?”

“Sure.” Informal. I was slipping.

She drummed her ankles against the floor and then, with a huff, hopped up again and began straightening the mess she made. She wasn’t a woman who liked to be still. I wasn’t surprised when she broke the silence. “Does anyone else know?”

“If they’ve guessed, they haven’t said anything. This isn’t a test, or one of the puzzles you’re supposed to solve. You weren’t supposed to notice.”

She slammed a drawer. “Do you like spying on people?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” She snorted. “It’s a job. A boring one, most of the time. Alerts tell me when any of you do something relevant, and then I cut the best footage together and send it back to the real editors. I’m not watching you every second. Who would want to?”

That got her to stop folding a shirt and look up at camera 387 so I’d be sure to see the disgusted expression on her face. “The fans?”

Fair point. “I forget about them sometimes.”

“I doubt your bosses would be happy to hear that.” She moved on to stuffing toiletries back into her bag, but her movements were less ferocious. “How did you end up working here?”

“I worked as set crew on a few smaller projects. I didn’t get training for it, but I’m good at picking up just enough to make myself useful.” That’s what kept me around through round after round of layoffs. I learned the bare bones of other people’s jobs, and upper management decided bare bones was enough. That kind of approach doesn’t make friends in the workplace, but neither does getting fired. And hey, it worked out that I’m not a team player. The only one on my team now is me.

“Do you like reality TV?”

“Hell no.” I couldn’t believe anyone would put up with the genre without getting paid for it. “But a job’s a job. Did you always dream about starring in something like this?”

She paused, clutching a bottle of perfume. “Not like this.” She took a bracing whiff – the label said orange vanilla, but smell is one thing I can’t piggyback on. “You’ll delete this?”

The start of our conversation was already flagged. “Speak freely.”

“I liked the romantic ones when I was younger. The fairy tale element; I read a lot of fairy tales growing up. Later I realized how artificial they were, but you keep hoping.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I told you that.”

Neither could I. Then again, they were encouraged to bare their souls for the cameras. It must be a hard habit to break. “Given the data I’ve collected, I think Anna is your one true love.”

Instead of laughing, she shoved the perfume into her bag. “I’m not here for that.”

“I know.”

She zipped up the bag, stood, and looked right at the camera, hands on hips. It was the closest I’d come to eye contact with someone in months. “How much do you know about me?”

“Mostly what’s in your files.” I reread them after she caught me. I had her entire application packet, every official scrap of information the network collected.

“And I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know I don’t like reality TV.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

She shot the question at me, and I responded reflexively. “Blue. At least it is now. I don’t see the sky much on this job.”

“Blue.” She digested that and looked past the cameras, up to the ceiling and the sky beyond that she’d only see through windows until the game was over. “I miss it too.”

“Now you know one thing about me. Happy?”

“Can I ask more, later?” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth; I think the question surprised her as much as it did me. “I don’t like being watched by a stranger. I can’t stop you watching, but I can stop you from being such a stranger.” A crafty spark entered her eyes. “You are here to answer our questions. That’s what they told us in orientation.”

They did tell them that. “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “But be careful. I don’t want everyone in the house asking me for my biography.”

#

Gloria was the one on camera, but she was the one who forgot herself. She was standing in the kitchen running a plate under the water when she looked toward a camera and asked, “What do you eat?”

“Uh,” said Benjamin, waiting for his turn at the sink. “Are you talking to me?”

“Based on existing data, Benjamin enjoys soy-based products and fresh fruit,” I said in my best automaton voice.

At least she caught on quick. “Thank you,” she said, and went back to rinsing pasta sauce off her dishes.

After she retreated to her room, she said, “I’m guessing I’m not supposed to socialize with you.”

“There aren’t any rules against it,” I said, which wasn’t a no, and then followed it up with, “It’s not the most strategic use of your time,” which wasn’t a yes.

“I need a break from everything out there sometimes. At least I know what you’re lying about.”

Safer not to comment on that one. Besides, she was still going.

“Mateo is always trying to make sure the cameras get his good side; you know he’s here to make a name for himself. And Anna keeps talking about how she wants to buy her own automated mansion, like she can’t imagine going back to having to manually turn on the lights. They’re so trivial. It makes me want to toss them out a window and tell them to come back when they have something serious to compete for.”

I didn’t comment on that either, but I could’ve. The truth was, at least half the participants needed the money for reasons beyond popularity contests or tech upgrades. It didn’t matter. If I told her, she wouldn’t think they deserved it as much as she did. Even without the files, I could have read her life story in her unblemished skin and name brand outfits. She’d never sweated through record-breaking summers because during surge periods companies always cut off the poorest neighborhoods first. She wrinkled her nose at the cricket flour crackers in the pantry like someone who had the luxury to leave food on her plate. She had no idea how many people watched her and wished they could take her place – not for a chance at a cash prize or fifteen minutes of fame, but just to have a safe place to sleep and enough to eat. When people watch shows like this, it’s not about rooting for an individual, not really. It’s about constructing elaborate narratives about themselves. Wanting participants, wanting to be them: there’s not much of a difference in the end. They’re all different flavors of consumption. Some players catch on faster and embrace being the product.

But Gloria was used to being on the other side of the equation. She’d been comfortable her whole life, and this medical bill was the first time she hadn’t had enough to make the world work the way she wanted. So she came running here for a fairy tale ending, because of course she was entitled to that along with everything else.

You’d think people like me who’ve been struggling their whole lives would fight hardest, but people like that? They get vicious.

Instead I said, “So you’re saying it’s nice to talk to me.”

“It’s a change.”

I minimized camera 16’s window where Richard and Destiny are gearing up to either start a fight or swap spit. Hard to tell with those two. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What do you think of us? You watch us all day.”

“Not all day, I told you. Honestly it’s – did you ever work customer service?” Her eyebrows jumped. I could’ve guessed that too. “Well, in that kind of job, you don’t pay much attention to individuals. You’re all one big crowd. Of course, you’re also my only live entertainment. Could you do anything more interesting?”

“Any suggestions?”

“Steal Corey’s watch.”  

She laughed. Corey told everyone who would listen how expensive his custom-made timepiece was. His audience hung on to every word, although they were mostly hanging on to his cheekbones. “That won’t get me any votes.”

“I’d vote for you.”

“You mean you’re not charmed by him?”

“Not my type.”

“Not mine either.”

I know, I thought, but I didn’t say it. She didn’t like to be reminded.

#

Gloria didn’t steal Corey’s watch. The next time he made a production of giving someone the time she looked right at the nearest camera, and I almost choked on my protein bar laughing.

After she left that conversation, she slipped into her room and leaned against the door. “You always delete the video when I’m talking to you, right?”

“It wouldn’t do me any good to send it on.”

Her shoulders loosened. It was surprising, and a little gratifying, that my presence now made her relax. “In the real world, you’re pressured to be doing something useful with every second of your life. In here, every second you’re performing for the cameras. It’s nice to be able to stop.”

I covered a yawn with one hand and reached for my coffee. “At least you get regular rest periods. I can’t give you details, but some people were keeping me up last night.”

She frowned. “Would you rather I let you go?”

The frown was also gratifying. “No, there’s enough I need to monitor right now anyway. Just keep your activities within regular business hours. That’ll make you a model participant in my book.”

“I’ll try.” She settled onto her bed and stretched her arms over her head, bending back the wrists. Then she asked, abruptly, “Do you have a favorite guest?”

“I’m not supposed to pick favorites. I won’t name names, but my least favorite is someone who starts whistling when they’re trying to concentrate. I always get the tune stuck in my head.”

“I’d hate that too.” She dropped her arms down and rested her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t seem fair. You get to see all of us, and I don’t get to see you.”

“It’s for the best that you can’t.” I shifted in my chair where I was sitting cross-legged in sweatpants I’d been wearing for three days straight. “I don’t have to be presentable to anyone back here. My hair’s a mess.”

She shrugged. “It would be nice to see any new face. Can you tell me what you look like?”

“Better not.” There weren’t any rules against that either – no one would’ve thought we needed them. But I wasn’t there to be looked at. “Just… imagine me. Whatever you’d like.”

She thought for a moment and then said, “You look nice.”

“Thank you.”

#

For the next month, I watched from my hundreds of cameras and listened through my hundreds of microphones. I scoured test banks for trivia questions and rearranged the responsive floor plan to build obstacle courses. I beamed everything back to our viewers, and the network compiled data to send back. Their demands were predictable. So-and-so is popular; be sure to get close-ups. Contestants X and Y don’t get along. Trap them in a room together with a malfunctioning door. Sometimes the instructions were specific, but often they just told me what the audience wanted. By now, I knew how to get it.

While I did that, I watched Gloria. She was average, as these things go. She lasted longer than half the participants in a challenge where I cranked the temperature lower and lower. Then she flopped when asked to identify the fake headline in a social media feed. She nodded to cameras with a half-smile, and although she could be doing it for the viewers, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it for me.

She stayed kinder than I expected, even as everyone dropped the niceties and the game turned into a bloodbath of votes and eliminations. I’m not usually wrong reading people. I have so much to go on.

She kept talking to me late at night. Participants are promised some privacy in their bunks. (If they read their contracts line by line they know better. Viewers get very interested whenever a player invites someone else in. That was happening in two locations, so it was easy to cover up my own indiscretions.)

“Do you know what’s happening back home?

“Only what the network sends me.” I didn’t miss it. Participants signed up for fame or money, but escape would work as well. At least locked in this house, the problems weren’t real. You knew the challenges were fake, and everyone went to bed with a full stomach at the end of the day. It’s not a bad gig, really.

“I don’t know how my mother’s doing.” She was staring at the ceiling instead of making virtual eye contact with me. “Sometimes I’m afraid I won’t get back in time. It feels like it’s been longer than a few weeks.”

She didn’t seem to be waiting for a response. They were encouraged to think out loud for the cameras.

#

Nine weeks into this round of the game, she was in trouble. We didn’t talk about it. I was supposed to be her refuge from all that. Ridiculous, if you think about it, but we all have our illusions. She didn’t have access to viewer opinion polls or other players’ confessions, but I could tell from the way she held herself that she knew. If she didn’t win this week’s challenge, she was gone.

That shouldn’t have bothered me. I don’t pick favorites. Players come and go and nothing changes. Except…

I used to talk to my coworkers’ empty chairs to hear my own voice. I erased crosswords and started them again. The job without Gloria would be… boring. I didn’t want to look across all my monitors and not see her there.

I’ve never related to the viewers who root for their favorite contestant. This was different. They’re behind a screen watching the edited version of a woman from miles away, a woman who doesn’t even know they exist. I knew her. She knew me.

She didn’t ask for my help. I’d like to imagine she respected my integrity or didn’t want to risk my job, but I saw the way she threw herself into trying to shore up shaky alliances, too little too late. She’d rather rely on herself. I might be the all-seeing eye and the voice in her ear when she went to sleep, but when it comes to playing the game, no one pays attention to the help.

My inbox dinged. The network was responding to my latest batch of video. I skimmed through it: suggestions for contrived scenarios to start people fighting, instructions to let the showers break down, standard stuff. Then, at the end: We need new topics for this week’s trivia challenge. Any ideas?

The challenges got repetitive after a while. Production was always looking for suggestions. I opened a reply, started typing, and then paused.

I could help. No one would know. Gloria would be here, with me, for another week.

It wouldn’t be my first case of workplace dishonesty. I’d fibbed on timesheets and extended my breaks like everyone has. I’d kept my mouth shut and let coworkers take the fall for my mistakes. This was interference with the outcome of the show, though. I could get fired.

Who was going to catch me? Me?

I typed, What about fairy tales?

#

Gloria was exultant. She won the trivia challenge, securing her place for the week and spurring a nasty double cross in an alliance that had been planning on forcing her out. She paced back and forth in her room, rehashing her triumph. I responded with customer service hmms. It didn’t occur to her that I might be behind the convenient choice of topics. Which was fine. If she realized, she might let it slip, or expect more favors, and I’d risked enough already. It was fine that I was everywhere controlling everything and she still acted like she had no idea. People like her are the same everywhere. They assume the world runs itself.

“If I win next week’s challenge and Richard and Destiny stay on bad terms, I have a chance,” she said. “I could win.”

I didn’t say much in response. Maybe she thought I was being careful not to spill any show secrets, or maybe to her I was just another audience member witnessing her triumph. I’d had so much time to watch and still had trouble reading her.

I’m not omniscient, is the point. I never had the power to read her mind or control her or even save her in the end. I was only ever buying time.

I’d built a habit of letting emails pile up and answering them when I felt like it, but now I never closed my inbox. I took my phone with me on bathroom breaks or rare trips outside. Of course, if the network found out what I’d done, they might not bother with professional communication. They might send a crew in with no notice to throw me out on my ass.

That dampened my enthusiasm as Gloria dreamed of making the final three. Household malfunctions rose. I got jumpy. Anna asked me a question, and I froze, because for a moment I thought I’d been caught. A spam email snuck through my filter, and I spilled my energy drink all over the keyboard when I heard the notification. I wanted to scream through the intercoms, Don’t you know what I can do? What I’ve already done? You don’t even know that I’m here.

Instead I turned the heat up two degrees and reassured Anna that she’d buttoned up her dress correctly.  

#

In the end, I didn’t get caught. The shutdown order came for different reasons. Mateo, a fan favorite, had settled into a committed relationship. The move wasn’t popular with viewers. They liked him as a heartbreaker with someone else in his bunk every night. I don’t get the appeal, but ratings are ratings.

End the game, wipe their memories, and start over, the message said, with a list of new parameters to try. Just like the last four times I got this email. Neurotech sure has expanded the boundaries of reality programming.

Like I said, I’ve got horror stories.

I flicked through the changes. The bulk were new living arrangements and challenges tailored to different participants’ skills. The true appeal was more pathos for viewers to sigh over, as former lovers betrayed each other and friends met again as strangers. They eat it up so much I wonder if the game will ever end.

Maybe I should be happy about that. It’s job security.

I could see Gloria out of camera 43. She was selecting a meal packet and humming to herself. I wanted to warn her, to say that every time before this she’d become someone shut off or brittle or cruel, and that I liked her better this way. I wanted to tell her it’d been thirteen months since she saw her mother, not two. I wanted to ask if she had any idea. But I signed a contract too.

Instead I waited until after lights out and said, “Let me show you something.”

Gloria trusted me enough by now that she waited until I’d directed her to a blank stretch of wall to ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

“If you compare the interior to the outside of the house, this can’t be an exterior wall. There’s too much space. You didn’t notice?”

“I didn’t.”

She did in three of the other versions. Gloria had rarely been a model participant. She’d explored more, discovered more, when she wasn’t talking to me. “When people do, I tell them it’s not part of the game. It’s where we keep some of the machinery used to run the facilities.”

“What’s really on the other side?”

“Me.”

She started at that, looking from the camera to the wall and back again, like she assumed I lived in the fiber optics. “You’re there?”

“In my own set of apartments. It’s roomy now that I’m the only one. There’s a side door, so I even get a little sun sometimes. There’s a lot of machinery back here with me, though. We try not to lie when we can tell part of the truth. Makes it easier to keep track of everything.”

She reached out and presses her hand to the chipped paint of the wall. “You were always right here.”

“Hang on, I’m at a different terminal.” I hopped out of my chair and squeezed myself between my desk and the one that used to belong to Paulo before the last round of cutbacks. “Now I’m right there.” I was simplifying things, of course. There was at least a foot of wires and paneling between us, but it was still the closest we’d ever been. I reached out to press my hand to the wall and imagined the touch of another human’s skin against my own.

This was my last chance to tell the truth. I could reveal everything, lead her to the emergency exit only I knew about, and invite her to run away with me to… what? We were both there because we needed something, and the world won’t give you anything for free. In this house, blasphemy or not, I was basically God. I could steer her away from danger. I could construct a narrative. Outside, I couldn’t create a happy ending for either of us.

From what I knew of Gloria Martina Sosa, the many possible Gloria Martina Sosas who had walked under this roof, she would hate me for keeping this from her.

It was a good thing she didn’t know me at all.

“Why did you decide to tell me now?” she asked.

There were a lot of things I could have said. Because this version of you dies tomorrow. Because there are bigger rules I won’t break, and I want to believe I’m a person who would break some of them, for you. Because I’m saying goodbye, and you don’t even know it.

“Because we’re getting close to the end now,” I said. “You’ll be too busy soon to think about me.”

“It’s hard to not think about you when you’re watching all the time. Especially now that I know exactly where you are.” She ran her fingers across the paint before pulling away. “Maybe when this is over I’ll be able to see you face to face.”

I couldn’t hesitate. If I hesitated, she might guess something is wrong, and my entire job relied on returning polished answers with mechanical precision. “That would be nice.” I was using my work voice, all business. “You should get back to bed before anyone wonders why you’re up.”

She smiled – at the wall rather than the camera. She might have been looking toward me, but that means she didn’t meet my eyes. “Are you worried about my beauty sleep?”

“Rest is important,” I said. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I’m rooting for you.”

Thanks to my instructions, she made it back without running into anyone, turning corners and ducking into rooms without a word of protest. Once I delivered her to her room, she dimmed the lights and slipped into bed to while away the last few hours this version of her would ever see.

I watched her fall asleep, and I didn’t say a word.

Maybe next time.

#

They were called in for a medical check-up the next morning. “Is this a challenge?” Gloria asked while getting dressed.

“No,” I said. “It’s perfectly normal.” The producers would be pleased. I’d never sounded less human.

#

Teardown procedure between rounds was always the same. I filled out the standard paperwork and finished packaging the last days of footage to be shipped back to the editors. My email inbox could be thinned out. I’d gotten practiced, and none of the tasks took long. Then it was just me, the empty house, and Gloria’s ghost roaming the silent halls.

If you look at it right, I’m doing her a favor. Outside the house, the monsters are so much worse than me. People want to be you, or have you, and they’ll eat you alive. People who grew up like me would understand. They might even ask me to do the same for them.

I don’t know why I’m bothering to justify myself. My job is to watch and record, not to editorialize. There’s no reason for me to sit down in front of the camera and say, My name is Cal, and there’s nothing I could have done. But I guess I’ve caught the narrative bug after watching everyone else spin out their stories, because here I am making my recording. Wishing there was someone on the other side of the screen to turn me into someone new.

I have no illusions that I would be an audience favorite. That’s never been my role.

An email with the finalized set-up for round six arrived in my inbox, and I scanned it so I’d be prepared. There will be no chocolates next time. Every round, the producers try something different. But I will say hello, and maybe this time she will say it back.

#

They come to the house with bags full of clothing and artificial smiles. They come with extra toothbrushes and half-constructed plans. They come with high hopes and already dented dreams.

I come with nothing. I was already here.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Hey I was re-reading ECM and I noticed how awesome your the writing style was and wanted to know if you'd be willing to share how you write like that?

(I've got exams and have to really work on my english lmao)

Thank-you very much! I'm glad you've enjoyed my writing so much!

(I want to preface any notes here by saying I started seriously writing when I was 12 and I am now... not that. So I have almost 20 years of writing under my belt)

I've actually done a post about writing that gives a few pointers so I won't re-hash those points, but will add a few extras about crafting 💖💖

I know I said I wouldn't re-hash things, but this point always bears merit in saying: the first thing you write is the worst thing you write. It's called a first draft for a reason and you shouldn't be precious about it. That means don't go stressing about getting your phrasing perfect. Rewriting your draft can do wonders (and that doesn't mean you have to completely change things on the rewrite!), especially if you're not a confident writer.

Vary the start of your sentences. It's a very easy habit to fall into (I still do it all the dang time); you write sentence after sentence starting the the subject ('It was...'; 'Peter did...'; 'She saw...' etc). It makes your writing feel repetitive. We fall into patterns in our writing and forcing yourself to think about how you can change up the way your sentences begin within a paragraph is an invaluable challenge. Consider your paragraphs too: when I'm on my first edit, I pay close attention to how they start to ensure they don't all begin the same way. That doesn't mean every sentence has to start differently, but keeping things mixed up adds variety.

Avoid info-dumping. Exposition (where you give relevant background information) is a useful feature but it slows the pace of your story significantly. What I see a lot of fanfic writers do is freeze time (quite often at the very start of the story) to give us 500+ words of information that could have been drip fed over the chapter (or several chapters). I'm absolutely not saying I'm innocent of this - I do it all the time, including the opening to ECM! - but something that I find can help is to a) make it interesting by setting up a mystery that the exposition doesn't answer, b) intersperse exposition with description to keep up the pace or c) try to make your exposition feel as authentic as possible to your narrator.

Be decisive: avoid phrases like 'seemed to' and 'felt like' etc. Instead of, "She seemed to glow with happiness' make it 'She glowed with happiness'. Simple changes like this just make you seem more sure of yourself as a writer because you're committing to the image. Again, this kind of indefinite phrasing is an easy habit to fall into but it's a very easy fix! Very often, the sentence will still make perfect sense if you simply delete these phrases (although sometimes it will need a few minor tweaks).

Metaphors, not similes. Honestly this is just a continuation of the previous rule! Rather than, 'It looked like an ocean of silver', 'An ocean of silver swelled before them' is much more interesting and committed to the bit! Again, that's not to say you can't use similes at all! They're great, but you should ask yourself if a metaphor would be better.

Don't be afraid to extend your metaphors. Extended metaphors are such fun. Consider my earlier example : 'An ocean of silver swelled before them'. If I was to extend this, I'd think about other images associated with the ocean. Waves, tides, sea creatures, the scent and sound of the water. And since I've compared it to silver, I'd also consider things that are semantically connected: gold, copper, jewels like emeralds, sapphires, pearls etc. Then I'd start crafting additional clauses/sentences to build upon that original metaphor.

Brush up on a wider range of writer methods. Honestly, teaching English helped me out a bunch here, but here are a few of my faves: polysyndeton: this is where you list with the same coordinating conjunctions (and, but, so, for etc) rather than commas. If you look at my writing you'd see I do this all the damn time. Anaphora: in the typical form I use it, it's where the start of successive clauses begin with the same opening word/phrase (think like MLK's 'I have a dream speech). Best used in a group of three in my experience. Again I use this all the time. The opposite of this (where successive clauses end in the same word/phrase) is called epistrophe. Oxymoron: a fun one. It's a paradoxical phrase (e.g. burning cold, loving hate etc) Hyperbole: an over-exaggeration (e.g. It's boiling hot. I walked a million miles to get here!). Very fun to use with an unreliable narrator or you want to get across just how unbearable/significant something is (but the key here is that it's got to be obvious you're over-exaggerating!) Synaesthesia: where you mix different senses together (e.g. The lights sang in harmony; the room smelled cold).

Planning does wonders for your story structure. For the longest time I was a 'pantster' and would just throw myself in writing on vibes only, but now I find that knowing where I want to take my story makes it much easier to place critical themes and the much loved foreshadowing.

I hope at least some of these can be helpful to you! These are methods that have helped me over the years, but the beauty of writing is of course that all of us over time develop our own 'voice'! Just because I say these are things I do doesn't mean that's what everyone has to do!

Good luck on your exams too!! 💖

[bunnycara]

I see so much ranting and raving about hypno reprogramming- implementing all new ideas, traits, actions, becoming the perfect doll and molded into whatever you're told to be. It's good shit don't get me wrong, but what about when you have to undo all of those tweaks. That's kinda good too..

I'll just be there soaking in the bathtub and start doing a mental inventory of what thoughts I really ‘lost’ while busy getting my brain washed. Just laying there and thinking on what changes were made over an admittedly long period of time, only then realizing both identity and a sense of the passage of time had completely drifted away

My current favorite new personal discovery after undownloading a system “upgrade” that included lots of reprogramming material; 

•I love smoking??? and getting high, feeling buzzed🍁 

Not enjoying that feeling is sucha silly way to live- being high is goofy and hot. (being coerced into taking puff after puff until you're stoned enough to be taken advantage of? Even hotter.)

I would never /not/ want that?? But now a days it does feel like i'm discovering the concept for the first time- like, 'I can just hit my pretty little vape pen that tastes like grape candy whenever I want and feel silly?’ *tries it* ‘oh, fuck yea :3’ 

(Idk what this tists problem with smoking was, just not very lady-like? Though I suppose vaping IS one of the few traits I could’ve kept locked in that hidden box inside the attic of my mind. The one meant for discarded characteristics.)

I only had eyes and interests for one person, literally no one else. Because there is LITERALLY no one else in my mind. Not in the way you would think either. The devotion to the relationship didn't come from any spoken commitment, but all the same, mind getting massively melted on the daily, I was devout. Any previous desires that were deemed unnecessary- gang bangs, three ways, and eventually even the desire to go out with my Slutty friends just to be ogled by men, 

(which is what I'm made to do?? i'm literally just a girl) 

All those old unnecessary desires had to go to make room for all the new desires I had to Serve one.

So many little ideas forgotten, forgotten, forgotten-. Because it feels so good to be obedient, it feels good to go deep, and it does feel good, doesn't it? The seeds that were planted were untraceable, and they grew into something so natural; thinking, evolving, loving, deeper and deeper.. 

I was really a pet. A horse with no name and blinders on, a dog locked on a mental leash in a golden cage. A pet to be owned, preprogrammed, and reshaped. I came into the equation with the innate desire to be praised as a Good Girl, sure, but was then given the commands, positive reinforcement, and occasional punishment until all my new tricks sinked in and I could perform them with a *snap*

And umm yes that is the point. That is what makes it hot. That is what I asked for. 

Corruption, destruction, being a possession. Becoming domesticated, having my mind unravelled until there's nothing left except behaving properly.

Maybe the best part is remembering how for the entire process I would tease “i don't think the brainwashing is working ~” silly, silly girl

It's /disgustingly/ hot. Realizing you were primed, and tweaked, and molded, till the point of no return. Resisting and fighting to retain free will at first, but knowing deep down that it's an impossible task. Knowing I really really want to sink, fall away, and give in completely.

And yeaaaah I'm horny thinking about it~ All the same though, finding little fragments of a memory, a desire, or even an opinion of my own, when not long ago those were all quite literally unknown illegible words, it’s freaky. Like, -oh-shit-mind-control-is-real kinda freaky. Freaky is good too though...

And now I get to play the game of “Was it HYPnoSiS or is it a personality disorder :D (Though I am not a therapist so I can can't rightly say—--- but I definitely know which one is the right answer🍥 Feel free to say 'Good Girl' and give me an A on my essay now! End of rant<3

[mysaintkitten]

Little Secret | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: neil is your sisters boyfriend, but that doesn’t stop you from developing a slight crush on him (this is based off a suggestion that was sent to me !! thank you to whoever sent it !!) (NSFW, NO MINORS!)

WARNINGS: veeery slight age gap (unspecified ages but reader is implied to be younger, everyones legal), cheating, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie

word count: 3.8k

neil and your sister had been dating for about 4 months now, still very much in its fresh-honeymoon stage. in those 4 months, you two had been around each other a few times but hadn’t really spoken to each other directly. you’d be in the same conversations, but that’s really all that would happen.

it wasn’t until somehow, the two of you were left alone in the living room of your house a few hours before your parents were planning to hold a family gathering, neil being your sisters plus one. you’re sitting on one side of the couch and he sits on the other, you’re physically as far apart as you can within the couches armrests. your sister had temporarily left due to a minor emergency situation, she had realized that she had no solo cups or paper plates for the family gathering tonight, and your parents were at the liquor store buying alcohol for the gathering.

for a while, you just sat in silence. if you were being honest, you thought neil was pretty cute, but you felt so guilty about it. so you just tried your best to avoid him. he was just a few years older, nothing significant that would make people look twice, but the more dominating factor was that he was with your sister. whenever you felt yourself staring at him, or tweaking your appearance when he’d look away, you’d remind yourself: he’s with your sister.

as the two of you sat in silence, he eventually breaks it by blowing a weak raspberry through his lips and stirring up a conversation,

“sooo …” he starts, eyes scanning around the room before bringing them to you, “see any interesting movies lately?” he asks, you refrain from chuckling. of course he’s asking about movies. but, it’s his main interest and he’s trying to be nice, so you engage.

“uh, yeah, actually!” you respond, looking down at your hands in your lap was you fiddled with your thumbs, “watched fantastic planet, i thought it was really cool.”

“wow, really?” he responds, his words almost sound sarcastic, but when you look up at him he has a partially impressed expression on his face. you blush slightly, temporarily basking in the fact that you gave him an answer he approved of. your sister wasn’t as in to movies as either of you were, which was a bit of a tolling factor on his relationship with her.

“i like fantastic planet too, you seen any other french films? like la haine?” he questions, his body language becoming more relaxed,

you perk up slightly, “yeah! i loved la haine!” you beamed, turning your body inwards to face him better, you did really enjoy cinema but you didn’t have anyone to talk about it with.

he smiles at you warmly and then scans you up and down, before he can say anything you hear the front door unlock and your sister comes in, “oh, my god! you won’t believe what i saw!” she exclaims from the front door. his gaze stays on you for a few more moments before he breaks it to go help your sister out with the bags. you watch him as he leaves. you feel an uncontrollable smile spread across your lips and you scurrying up to your room, not wanting to face your sister and be reminded of the fact that these feelings are guaranteed to lead to nothing.

once upstairs, you start getting ready. you shower and shave, change into a nicer outfit, a cute little dress. overall modest, but showed enough to hopefully peak neil’s intrest, and do your hair and makeup.

you’re patient, making sure you look as nice as possible, nearly missing the beginning of the get together to finish getting ready.

as you’re putting your earrings in, you’re subconsciously thinking about what neil would like. does he like slutty? does he like modest? you don’t want to make it obvious, but you want him to like what he sees.

after a few drinks, it sets in that the gathering is a bit of a let down. neil didn’t look at you once. it was almost like he was avoiding you. the conversations were boring, and you were tired of asking the same dull questions about your life and your future. you decided it was best for you to just sneak back up to your room. your parents and sister were enjoying the company, you didn’t want to kill their vibe.

once in your room, you strip yourself of your dress and slip into a loose tee and some pyjama shorts, proceeding to climb back into bed and scroll on your phone.

suddenly, your bedroom door swings open, and there neil is.

you both stare at each other, “oh, sorry, i thought this was the bathroom.” he said, blatantly lying, he’s been to your house numerous times, he knew exactly where the bathroom was. but how’d he know which room was yours? had he been doing trial and error without you knowing?

you break eye contact and glance around your room trying to figure out what words to say, feeling a blush creep across your cheeks, you notice in your peripheral that he’s walking into your room now, beginning to shut the door behind him,

“uh, well ..” you start, “it isn’t, i can take you to the actual bathroom if you’d like ..” you joke lightly, attempting to calm your own nerves, he smiles at you,

“that’s alright, i don’t really have to go, anyway.” he responds, looking at all the small trinkets you have scattered throughout your room, “why’d you leave?”

oh, so he did notice you.

“i guess it just wasn’t really my vibe .. things didn’t go exactly as planned i suppose.” laughing weakly, again, just trying to break the tension. you’re not even sure if there’s actual tension or if it’s just your nerves, either way, you’re trying to calm yourself down.

“what did you have planned?” he asks, he’s standing directly beside your bed at this point, picking up and toying with little things he’s found on your nightstand.

“uhh ..” you murmur, trying to conjure up a believable lie. you can’t just say, “oh, i tried my best to look hot so you’d look at me, but you didn’t, so i went upstairs.” so you settle with, “i just wasn’t expecting every conversation to revolve around my future, you know? i mean maybe that’s excepted of older family members, they just want what’s best-“ you ramble, and you realize you’re rambling way too far into your sentence.

“sorry” you giggle, he grins at you and chuckles softly, “in summary, the conversations were tedious. i’d rather just be in my room.”

he sighs, “yeah, i get that”, he places the small objects back on your nightstand and adjusts them to how they were before he picked them up. then, to your surprise, he sits on the edge of your bed, “your sisters having a nice time talking with the other girls, i felt a bit out of place so i told them i was heading up to the bathroom, they didn’t really notice though.” he adds, his comment about your sister brought you back down to earth. oh, yeah, my sister, your girlfriend.

you shift away from him slightly, feeling yourself becoming antsy. he had never been this close to you before, he had never been in such a personal space with you before, neither of you knew each other like that, yet here you were.

“oh .. haha ..” you mutter, your eyes are actively avoiding him, you’ve convinced yourself that as long as you don’t look at him he won’t realize how nervous you are. as if he read your mind, you hear him say, “wait, look at me.”

you gulp slightly and shift your head and your gaze towards him, making direct eye contact with him. his eyes drift down to your lips and he brings his thumb forward, gently swiping it against the edge of your bottom lip.

you don’t breathe, his eyes on you and his thumb on your lip is a bit much for your psyche to handle, your eyes shift away, keeping your head in place for him.

he notices your eyes shifting and he chuckles, “what? am i that hideous?”

your eyes widen slightly while looking back at him “no, no no! it’s not that!” you explain frantically, “it’s uh … kinda ..” you start, your voice trailing off as you realize what you were just about to admit to him. he doesn’t let you stop though, he continues to pry.

“kinda … what?” he asks, raising his brows, “kinda .. the opposite.” you choke out, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you definitely can’t look at him at this point.

you shift away from him more, tucking your knees up to your chest, the silence is eating away at you.

“look, i’m sorry, i think you should go, i shouldn’t have-“ you blab, desperately trying to dig yourself out of this hole you’ve created.

“(y/n), (y/n), breathe, it’s alright.” he coos, placing his hand on your shoulder in attempt to calm you down, “no shame in a little attraction, we’re only human, after all.” he adds, rubbing your arm gently.

“but you’re taken, neil ..” you whisper, “by my sister, at that!”

he doesn’t really respond to that, he returns to his original point, “we feel how we feel. you can’t control that.”, as he speaks he brings himself closer to you, his torso is mere inches away from your tucked-up legs.

“you know ..” he says, staring down at your bed while tracing small patters on your comforter with his finger, “actually i don’t think i should say ..” he laughs weakly. your curiosity peaks. “no, go on, i had to say what i was thinking, it’s your turn.” you coax, relaxing your body language a bit.

he sighs, “well .. you aren’t too bad yourself, not bad at all actually ..” he looks back up at you, shifting his gaze between your eyes and your lips. your hearts pounding, you’re worried he might be able to hear it, “oh, stop .. you’re just saying that ..” you mumble, nudging him playfully.

“i’m not!” he laughs, “really, i think you’re very attractive .. you probably get that all the time though.”

you scoff and cross your arms in front of your body, “definitely not ..”

his brows stitch together in disbelief, “what? you’re telling me you don’t have guys trailing after you constantly?”, you shake your head no. he huffs and scoots closer, directly beside you now.

you chat for a while, almost completely forgetting about the gathering and the fact that your sister, his girlfriend, is downstairs, but neither of you care at this point. you begin to discuss your shared interest, movies.

he brings up trainspotting, and you nearly lose it, unleashing all of your retained trainspotting-knowledge onto him.

he can tell how into it you are, he watches you attentively as you ramble, making sure to nod every now and then so you know he’s listening and following along.

“and you know, for the toilet scene, they actually used chocolate an-“ you’re cut of by his lips on yours, you immediately forget whatever trainspotting trivia you were about to say to him, which knowing his love for film, he probably already knew all of the facts you told him. but he sat and listened anyway.

he pulls away, and he smirks slightly at the surprised expression on your face.

“neil ..” is all you can manage to mutter out before his lips are back on yours again, kissing you a bit more deeper, testing his limits. he pulls back again for a moment, “is this alright?” he hums, his lips nearly grazing yours. “my sister ..” you whine, he just chuckles and kisses you again. at this point, you’ve fully pushed your morals aside.

his kisses start to get deeper and his tongue starts to explore your mouth, you moan at the new sensation, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone before and things were moving rather quickly.

his lips move over to your cheek, down to your jawline and then to your neck where he suckles on the skin softly while creeping his hand between your legs.

you grab his wrist and halt his actions, “neil, i’ve never done this before ..” you confess,

he groans into your neck, his hot breath sending chills throughout your body, “i’ll be gentle, sweetheart ..” he mumbles, licking a flat stripe onto your neck before continuing to place his wet kisses on the skin. he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the thought of stripping you of your innocence made him harder.

you’re undeniably wet, your mind is racing, neil’s mouth, his hands, his cock, your sister, your family downstairs, you can’t focus on one distinct thing until you feel neil’s fingers slip into your panties.

you gasp quietly, feeling his skilled fingers toy with your pussy, “no one’s touched here before?” he asked, pulling his head out from your neck to look down at his hand in your pants, using his free hand to palm his aching bulge, “n-no .. just me ..” you whimper as he starts to rub small circles onto your clit, he smirks before whispering “ever think about me when you touch yourself?”. you nod, biting your lip, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at him.

he chuckles lowly, “dirty little thing .. lemme get these off”, he takes his fingers off your clit and hooks them into your waistband, you whimper in disapproval at the loss of contact. as you lift your hips to aid him in the removal, you lower them back down and spread your legs, bending them slightly.

he falls silent and your eyes open back up, you see him crawling to get between your legs, your holes are on a perfect display for him, you’ve never been so exposed in front of anyone before, but you’ve also never felt so aroused.

as his eyes scan you wet pussy, he brings his fingers back up, sliding his middle finger up and down your folds, “touch yourself for me, baby, i wanna see.” he purrs, teasing your opening with his finger. you whine, placing your hand between your legs and rubbing your clit timidly, a bit embarrassed to be doing it right in front of him. as you start to touch yourself, he begins to fuck you with his finger, watching as you clench desperately around his lone digit.

he’s absolutely infatuated with you, as you stare down at him between your legs he looks almost hypnotized.

“wish you had told me sooner .. would’ve touched you ages ago ..” he groans, adding another finger in, you whine slightly, stopping the movements on your clit.

neil shoves his fingers fully in, keeping them knuckle deep inside of you, “did i say you could stop?” he breathed, gently running the tips of his fingers along your leg.

you resume your movements, and he speeds up his while smirking “good girl.” he praises, he shifts onto his knees while keeping his fingers inside you, he brings his hand up to your face and cups your cheek.

he runs his thumb along your cheek sweetly before bringing his thumb to your lips, brushing against the skin, “open.” neil nearly whispers, you comply, sucking his thumb into your mouth.

you bat your eyelashes at him and suck his thumb in the most seductive way you can, despite having no experience, he likes what he sees. “jesus, (y/n) ..” he mutters, twisting his fingers inside you while trusting them in a bit harsher. “shit, neil!” you moan around his thumb, “you want more than my fingers, sweetheart?”, you whimper and nod, “hm? use your words, baby.” he hums.

you whine, “y-yes, i want more than your fing-ers ..”

“what do you want to fill you up instead?” he pries while taking his thumb out of your mouth and bringing that hand down to palm himself, smirking like the smug little fuck he is, you whimper louder, shifting your hips in front of him.

“neil ..” you huff, he just chuckles “come on, tell me what you want in that little pussy.”

you can barely manage to get the words out, embarrassment and arousal battling within your brain, but thanks to neil’s sweet little touches and words- arousal wins.

“y-our cock ..” you whisper, turning your head to the side. he groans quietly, “my, what, sweetheart? speak up.”

“your cock, neil!” you mewl, your desperation flooding all your other senses. he chuckles, “good girl, was that so bad?” he jokes before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty, as he undoes his pants and hastily tugs them down. his hard cock springs out, you’re a bit intimidated by his size. he’s not huge, but he’s definitely big, and you’ve never had sex before, so your nerves were definitely starting to act up.

he scoots himself forward and lines himself up between your legs, rubbing your slick up and down with the head of his dick.

“aw, you nervous?” he teases, you don’t respond, you just whine, “you’ll take it all, like a good girl, huh?” he coos, sliding himself inside you slowly. “what about protection, neil?” you mewl, he laughs, “what, you think your sisters dirty, or something? i’m clean, darling.”

god, he’s disgusting. before you can respond, you gasp loudly at the stretch and slight burning sensation, “oh my ..” you huff, forgetting about whatever you were just bickering about. he hasn’t even bottomed out yet. he pauses for a moment, still only halfway inside you, to lean his body forward and place his hand beside your head, placing small kisses on your lips and cheek.

“doing so good, just a little more ..” he moans, using his free hand to rub your thigh soothingly.

finally, he bottoms out, you look down between your legs and then back up at him. he’s blushing himself, and he has a stupid little grin on his face. “feels nice ..” he groans before sliding himself out a bit, quickly thrusting back in. you moan at the mixture of pleasure and pain, feeling so incredibly full by neil’s cock. he speeds up more, making your moans louder and your body twitch beneath him. “god fu-ck, neil!” you nearly shout, he brings his hand up from beside your head and covers your mouth, “i know it feels good, sweetheart, but you gotta be quiet, okay? can’t let everyone downstairs know you’re getting pounded up here.” he taunts, knowing exactly how his thrusts are effecting you.

“mhmm!” you whine from underneath his hand, he moans and his shoulders go slack, “so fucking tight ..”

you grip the wrist of the hand that’s over your mouth, grunting and whining into his palm, while exhaling harshly through your nose.

he takes his hand off your mouth and moves it to your neck, gripping the sides gently. you stitch your brows together and watch him fuck into you through half-lidded eyes. “how does this feel, baby?” he purrs, dragging his nails along your thigh with his free hand.

you moan, not loudly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“good .. ‘s so good ..” you whimper, finding it hard to speak due to the circumstances.

“think you can come on my cock for me, hm?” he grunts, bringing his lips to yours before kissing you sloppily. you not as best you can and moan against his lips, neil takes his hand off your neck and brings it between your legs and promptly rubbing your clit, making you moan even louder again this lips.

“neil! shit!” you whine, clenching around him involuntarily. he moans weakly, placing his forehead against yours.

“‘m gonna come .. god, fuck!” he groans, pumping into you harder while continuing to rub your clit, you’re close too- but so close that you really can’t verbalized it. you just hope he knows, and he does. with a few breathy moans, he’s coming inside you. he pauses for a few moments to pull his body back up, but his thrusts don’t slow down, he’s maintaining his rough pace while rubbing on your clit, eager to get you to come for him.

“drench my cock, sweetheart, show me how good it feels.” he praises, looking down at himself fucking you.

you don’t need much more than that, you’re coming around his cock and you’re coming hard. harder than you ever have. maybe because prior all your orgasms had been from your own hands, but neil’s hands and words and cock gave you an orgasm that was unlike anything you had felt before. your mind goes blank and your body tenses up, small huffs and ‘fuck’s falling from your mouth as your orgasm crashes through you.

“there you go .. that’s it .. all over me baby ..” he coos, watching in fascination as you come undone on his cock.

once you’ve ridden your orgasm out, he pulls his softening cock out, making you wince, “sorry, i’m sorry ..” he mumbles, running his fingers along your thigh calmingly. “god, look at that ..” he groans, mostly to himself, as he spreads your lips apart and watches as the come behind to spill out of you. he gets up off the bed and begins to button up his pants, adjusting his appearance in the mirror before heading to the door.

“i’ll get you a wet rag and get you cleaned up, after that i’ve gotta go back downstairs.” he says, his hand already on the doorknob, “wait!” you respond, he turns his body to face you fully.

“what was that? what’s this?” you ask, leaving the question rather vague for a reason, “i mean .. i would like to keep this going .. i won’t tell if you won’t ..” he whispers slightly, as if nows the time he needed to be quiet. you would like to see him more often, you wanna feel how you felt more often. so you nod, “okay, i won’t either.” you whisper back.

he smiles, “sounds good. can you swing by my video store sometime this week? we could chat, watch a few films ..” he bubbled, seemingly giddy at the idea of spending time with you. “yeah, definitely!” you grin back as he heads out the door to grab the wet rag.

the post-nut clarity begins to sink in. you just slept with your sisters boyfriend. how are you ever going to face her again? how awful of a person can you be to do something like this? what’s done is done, you tell yourself, you’ve already been an awful sister. so fuck it. let’s keep this going.

——

it’s 3 am heeeeyyyy

[mistressroxielove]

Hey everyone~ I got some more stuff for ya~

Long story short, I've discovered the new Fairly Oddparents reboot, absolutely loved it and was inspired to make this AU idea for the show! With a slight reimagine/redesign of the characters as well.

Here's some more info about my AU:

Fairly Odd Parents AU/Rewrite

Au Name: FairlyOdd Brother

Summary:

Perri (previously known as Poof) recently graduated from Fairy Godparents School and is eager to start granting Wishes for his very own godchild! Only problem is that with his lack of experience Jorgen is weary of giving him an assignment and keeps finding excuses/reasons to not give him a godkid. Realizing it might be a 1,000 years before they give him a chance to be a Fairy Godparent, Perri decides he needs to be a little bold and perhaps, bend Da Rules, to get his foot in the door so to speak. And his answer comes to him from a new neighbor in his human home, a family with a sweet shy 10 year old girl who is absolutely miserable. Perhaps Perri might be able to offer this girl a little comfort and fun as her new Fairy Godbrother!?

(Basically the same premise of the show, except Perri’s first godchild is Hazel, and through a technicality in the rule book, becomes her god brother instead of her godparent.)

ALSO please note this AU is more of a slight reimagine of the original show, meaning I did tweaked / changed some of the characters personality to match the new story I made for them. Nothing majorly different, but again just a heads up before you read on. Hope you like it~

Name: Devin “Dev” Dimmadome 

Age: 9/almost 10

Sex: Male

Physical Description: 

Is basically the same as in the show, though there are a few key differences. 

-Despite having slicked back hair he always has a single strand that no matter what always sticks out, he hates it and is always trying to move it back into place but to no avail. In reality without the hair product he has natural curly hair like his father, though his curls are a little more difficult to comb and manage than his father, something that he doesn’t like about himself

-Has freckles! But always wears makeup to cover them as according to Dale’s research are ’less desirable’ and would statistically do better with them covered up

-Also has heterochromia, one blue and one green eye, but always wears either a blue or green contacts to hide his ‘flaw’, again being told to do so by his father

- Though he is always required to wear a branded white hoodie, Dale actually lets him wear whatever shirt he wants underneath, just with the promise Dev never takes his sweater off in public. Dev usually wears all sorts of geeky and nerdy shirts, mostly love meridian and Crimson Chin related stuff, it's the closes thing he’s allowed to wear ‘freely’ without requiring his father’s approval. Again this ‘freedom’ is kinda pointless since he still has to wear the hoodie, but he still appreciates it.   

-As you can see in the photo above I showed what he looks typically on the left, and on the right is basically what Dev would dress like if he had no rules or restrictions.

Personality: 

It's basically exactly the same as in the show, I really like Dev both in a story sense and a comedic sense so nothing to really change. The only slight difference is that Dev in this version clearly gets a crush on Hazel in this version. I think the show is ‘hinting’ of them possibly being a couple later on, but in my version I wanted to make it a little more clear that he has a subconscious crush on her. Basically think Anya and Damion from Spy x Family if you want a good example. He likes her, but being a 10 year old boy with severe daddy issues has no idea how to handle this and ends up being kinda mean to his regret. 

Other fun facts:

-I won’t get into it now, but his relationship with his father is a bit different, as I have a unique take on Dale and who he is as a person. I’ll probably draw him next but for now just know Dale isn’t an evil heartless father and there’s more to him than it seems, and thus the relationship between Dale and Dev is a little more complex.

-And yes though it isn’t important yet, he does end up getting Cosmo and Wanda as his fairy godparents instead of Hazel as the AU would suggest.

- In this version Peri is also not a big fan of Dev. As he obviously doesn’t like how he’s mean to her at first, but as they become friends and Peri soon realizes that Dev has a crush on Hazel this leaves Peri horrified at the thought. And of course being a proper big brother is completely against and despises the idea of Dev and Hazel ever ending up together. He’s not too over the top about his dislike, but definitely would be sitting in to conor with his arms crossed, while trying to subtly tell Hazel she could do soooooooo much better than him.   

I hope you guys like this, I'm personally really happy with how this design turned out, especially his 'real Dev' design on the right. But I would love to hear your guys thoughts and opinions about my designs. Do you like them, hate them? Feel free to tell me below.

Also tomorrow I'll post a version of this photo with a transparent BG and maybe upclose shots of the design as well, just so you can see the design easier without the BG

Previous - Next

[lavender-long-stories]

I wrote 1 MILLION words in 2024. 

This post will act as a Q&A and a retrospective of my experience. In the last year, I have received many questions about what I recommend writing consistently, so I want to dump all that information in one place in the hopes that it might help someone who wants to write a little more.

Questions

Did you expect this at all when you were setting the goal back then? Maybe a hunch? From Asks Inbox

At the beginning of the year, a few people joked that I could hit 1 million words. I didn’t think it was possible, but it was nice that they believed in me. Even when I hit the 500k in July, I didn’t think it was possible because it meant I would have to do the same amount of words in 5 months. That just took me 7 months to do. So then I set it to 800k because that seemed more reasonable. I thought I might reach 900k, but never 1 million. Then I wrote 100k in Aug, and I had another 100k in just the first two weeks of Sept, and that is when I realized I could reasonably hit 100k at the rate I was going. I updated the website code but forgot to push the changes. 

How did you feel when you first realized you were surpassing the goal way earlier than you might have expected? From Asks Inbox

Uh, this is going to be a depressing answer, but actually, hitting goals doesn’t feel super fulfilling for me. I think I felt way more excited month after month, watching them build up, and by the time I actually hit them, I was a little numb to it.

I don’t believe it helped that the higher the word count got, I think the less people were excited for me. It's not their fault. I think they got used to it, too. It became more ‘expected’ rather than an achievement.

Is there a pairing you wrote about this year that you didn’t think you would write at the start? From Asks Inbox

ChoHina and KankHina. Those were both requests from @0rent and @nikandrros

Do you have a pairing you're thinking about writing but haven’t gotten to yet or haven’t released? From Asks Inbox

I had a secret goal this year of doing one story for each of the pairings that I wanted to but hadn’t, and with a one-shot out already and multi-chapter coming out before the year ends for Deidara, I will have checked off every single pairing I set out for at the beginning of the year.

I know you wrote a lot of SasuHina, but do you have a personal favorite ship of the year, or is it SasuHina? From Asks Inbox

I think I have the most ideas for SasuHina, and I do enjoy writing them deeply, but my favorite? That is really hard to say because usually my favorite is the last one I was working on. The issue is I love couple dynamics more than anything, and it's really hard to pick between them.

SasuHina is the most versatile as the dynamic can change depending on the situation you put them in, but it usually boils down to pessimism and optimism, but with them both having a little of both. Hinata having pessimism in her skills but optimism for others in general. Sasuke has optimism for his ambitions but pessimism for everyone else.

KisaHina has a lovely big brute and little joy aspect that I love. I really like the idea that Hinata feels safe in a shadow of someone taller and doesn’t judge the scars, and Kisame is sheepish when given affection and trying to be gentle.

HidaHina is funny to me because it doesn’t look like it should work, but Hidan’s brash personality actually fits well with Hinata’s passive one. Hinata appreciates honesty, and Hidan is nothing if not honest. Hidan does what he wants, and no one yelling about him is going to make him change, but I think if made uncomfortable enough, he would tweak his behavior, like Hinata being visibly uncomfortable but not scolding him. It's a very fun dynamic to play with.

GaaHina is warm in a way that is hard to explain. Both are rather calm people in their adulthood. Gaara feels a lot of guilt and has a perception of how others view him and accept that, but Hinata is forgiving and would see new, improved behavior as who he is now and ignore the past, and I think that challenges his worldview in fun ways.

ShikaHina is very comfortable, both quiet, reserved, and smart, but Shikamaru is far more observant and logical, whereas Hinata sees what paints her the worst and others better. Shikamaru makes for an interesting lead for stories where it is clear he is seeing things that Hinata isn’t but not speaking up about it.

SasoHina has a special place in my heart from back in my first fic (Lavender Clouds). The pure difference in seeing the best in people and intentions verse seeing the worst in people and intentions. Sasori being egotistical contrasts well against Hinata, who has nearly less than an ego, particularly when he can become frustrated that she doesn’t seem more in herself. It makes for arguments with chemistry, you can feel.

Bonus Dynamic I have come to love: Fugaku as a father figure/mentor to Hinata. I find the stern but more forgiving father figure a very nice contrast to Hiashi and Hinata’s relationship. I like to see the build-up of seeing Hinata as another pain to appreciating that no matter what, she keeps trying even if she is below rock bottom. And of course, Hinata having a decent father figure to look up to does not hurt.

Do you have goals and hopes for 2025? From Asks Inbox

Oh boy. Having a hard time choosing more than just do it all again, really.

Do it all again. The 100k, the rotation of ships, keep the streak going (hopefully hit a full year in Feb)

Do you make preparations before you write? Do you have to be doing specific things in order to get into writing mode?… I was just thinking if that plays a part in how you could sustainably build up routine From @daifukumochiin

I do not have any kind of routine to get into a writing mood, but that is because I have made the barrier to entry to writing very low. I have ADHD and mental blocks between me and the thing I want to do feel like mountains rather than pebbles, so it is ideal if there is 0 resistance or distraction between me and opening a doc to write.

For this I have a very intense notion board set up that allows me to easily keep track of all of my stories. [If anyone is interested in that, I can make another post on an updated version of that board - here is the old version of my Notion Writing Template]

I can open my writing page, then a story page for its notes, and its current chapter document with three clicks. 

Now, of course, that had an upfront setup up, and is might be over kill for someone working on one thing at a time, but once I had it in place, it was low maintenance, and all my notes are in one place, and I can start in a few moments.

Also, getting to a million is not an easy feat. I know you’re a planner than a pantser. But, just as the fics you’ve been posting recently, with Hinata in even more unconventional ships, do you think character/pairing first before plot or do you tend to come up with a plot first and then decide which character would fit it best?  From @daifukumochiin

I am not a planner. XD (context planners outline their writing and pantsers “fly by the seat of their pants”’)

I already talked to Mochi about this on Discord, but this still makes me laugh. I think this misunderstanding is because of my organization when it comes to knowing what five or more stories I am working on, what chapters are going up, and what I need to work on next. That is mistaken for actually planning the stories I am working on.

To be clear, I almost never have anything close to an outline on a story. What I tend to have when I am writing is a mildly organized massive note dump that will have everything I have thought of regarding that story, cute fluff moments that could be placed anywhere, main plot points I want to happen (might be subject to change), and key list of things like character’s professions or motivations if I already wrote it in, or it’s important something I want to get to and then maybe the plot to maybe the next 3-5 chapters at most bullet pointed for general direction. There have been a few expectations, but very, very rare for me to have any sort or real outline in place.

I rarely know how a story will end until I get within five chapters of it. This is why I can never answer the question, ‘How many more chapters do you think this is going to be’? I don’t know when it will end or how it will end. It will tell me when I get there.

When it comes to story concepts, verse pairing, how most of my story ideas come about from inspiration from my own writing or talking about a dynamic that a couple already has. So, usually, the couple comes baked into the idea. However, if the idea is just ‘let me put Hinata in a situation,’ that situation may not have a pair attached, and in that case, it goes on a specific general ideas board that I tend to steal from to give to more fleshed-out stories.

Do you think working with a variety of material contributed to you reaching an even higher word count? From @daifukumochiin

I would say so. Mainly because if I ever get bored with one story, I can move to another. If I get bored with that, I can move to ANOTHER. Ping-pong balling myself around means I can rarely get writer's block solidly to the point I can write nothing. And if I am not interested in writing anything that I have active, I have a concepts board with 100+ stories on it all begging to be written.

Did you ever have moments where there’s a scene you wanted to do, but you just didn’t have the words for it, or you didn’t know how to go about it, picking up where you last left off? Do you just dive recklessly into a scene, or did you have moments where you were like, “I think I’ll do this differently than I initially envisioned because it’s too difficult”? From @daifukumochiin

On occasion, I can get stuck on a scene, but it’s rare. I am not trying to make every scene perfect as much as I am just trying to make the story happen, so I usually just write it the best I can and move on and see if I hate it in editing (usually, I was just thinking about it too much and when I read it back it’s fine). If I get particularly frustrated and stuck, I then can just put it down and come back after writing a few chapters of something else, and that tends to wipe my expectations for the scene, and I can look at it with new eyes.

It’s rare and hasn’t happened in months, but there have been times when a scene was so bad that I realized I had written myself in a direction I didn’t want to go and deleted five chapters to go a different way, but that doesn’t happen often and symptom of me trying to push an idea that simply wasn’t going to work.

Generally, I don’t put a lot of weight on individual scenes panning out perfectly as much as I do with the whole story continuing in the direction I want it to.

Which new Hinata ship did you enjoy writing? from @0rent

All of them. XD

How did you keep the motivation to write so many words? from @Orent

I don't rely solely on motivation as much as I have made it a habit to keep writing when the motivation isn't there and abusing the motivation when I have it.

Motivation comes and goes. Use it while you have it but don't wait for it to come to continue writing.

How do you paced yourself? From @kavi_vu_ on discord

Writing every day. 

Making monthly personal goals rather than trying to look at the whole year. 

Set a daily goal and aim slightly above it. Meaning with any word count goal, know what your daily word count HAS to be and then try to write just slightly more than it so when you have a low day, you don’t have to scramble to make up for it. For example, if you are going for 30k in a 30-day month, that is 1k a day, but aim for 1.2k or 1.5k rather than just hitting the number and calling it a day, especially toward the beginning when you have the most motivation so that you can have a 100-word day or two late and not have the scramble to make up for it.

How did you ended up deciding to write 1 million words? From @kavi_vu_ on discord

I didn’t, I only set out to write 500k.

Would you do this again? From @kavi_vu_ on discord

I plan to do it again next year.

Do you recommend this experience to others including newbie writers? From @kavi_vu_ on discord

I don’t think I can recommend 1 million to anyone who doesn’t make it like their main hobby.

I do recommend tracking words to everyone, if nothing else to have cool data at the end of the year.

Have you seen a change in your writing style/habits? Anon on discord

Not really. I have been writing the same way for a very long time.

What I Learned/Takeaways 

I originally had a list of takeaways that I had been piling up, but almost all that I was planning ended up covered in the questions. Here is what wasn’t:

MORE words on the page quicker: Dictation is frustrating to start, but damn, it is useful.

I picked up dictation (speech-to-text) in Aug, and without it, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the home stretch for 1 million. I can type rather quickly, but my spelling is poor, and realizing that a word is spelled horrendously wrong can be distracting. On top of that, no matter how fast I type, it will never be as fast as I can think and speak, and I find it better to get all the thoughts of the chapter out and go back a fix after. If nothing else, I would recommend it for taking bullet notes, just to empty your brain of empty of ideas.

[If anyone is interested in a brief dictation post, I can make that.]

Try not to compare yourself to others.

I want to say this knowing that it will not be received well by everyone.

If your response to someone doing 10k writing days is to say, ‘oh man I can do only 1k’ or ‘it's easy for you, and it’s hard for me’ then you are being way too hard on yourself. You are comparing and I don’t recommend it. It does not serve you to look to anyone else and put yourself under them.

If you tell me you got 200 words in a day, I will cheer you on because that is progress toward your story. I will NEVER tell you it’s not enough, only to keep going, keep writing at whatever pace you can, and I am proud of you for continuing.

I am proud of you for writing whatever you do, and I think you should be, too.

Find Community 

I know that this is easier said than done, but if you are writing a story that you care about, go talk about it. There are lots of discords for all kinds of fandoms, and you might find some great story tellers in there as well.

I would like to encourage you to have a place where people can find you to talk to you about your work (like Tumblr) linked in your profile because sometimes, the people who want to talk about your stories as much as you do find you. Don’t be discouraged if you don’t find anyone right away. I spent 8+ years hiding from the communities, but I am very happy that I have joined them.

Write until a Nari finds you.

This is where I would like to talk for a little moment to highlight the chaos demon that is at fault for a good portion of the story concepts that have been written in the last two years AND who I go to when I need to talk about a plot, the lovely @nikandrros.

@nikandrros is one of those lovely commenters that writers dream about, who writes comments so long and so unhinged that they exceed the character limit of AO3’s comment system and have to be broken up into parts. They then found me on Tumblr, and we have been bestest friends ever since. They text you at 3 am with lovely ideas like ‘What if we hit Itachi with a car?’ and ‘Let me tell you this thing that happened at the office that is straight out of a Kdrama’ and ‘I need Sasuke crying face down on a couch.’ I literally can’t write out all the examples I want to because that would take forever, but if you have enjoyed anything I have put out in the last year at least, thank @nikandrros for either the unhinged ideas I had to tone down or keeping me motivated when I am 8k deep into a 12k writing night. I adore you @nikandrros, and I hope everyone gets themselves a @nikandrros.

Ready for another 1 million?

Thank you for all the questions! If you have any more, don't be afraid to ask. I will link them here. If you're shy, feel free to ask Annon.

If you are interested in any follow-ups on the processes, let me know.

[marcelshorjian]

hi. I saw your coming out post. Big congratulations!!!!

I, bittersweetly, relate very much. I'm 23. I started suspecting I was trans around 15/16. I can generally repress it for a good long while (a couple months at a time), so the dysphoria comes in waves of "oh I can tolerate this forever, it's fine, its not that bad, they're just words/names/pronouns."

I think I am very soon reaching that point of "oh god this is inevitable, and I can't live as a woman anymore."

But I also know I have successfully bottled it back up when feeling like this before. And likely will again because I'm about to go into my first career, corporate job.

If you can even answer this... how did you get to the point where you felt ready to come out publicly?

Congrats again, truly.

Hi there! I usually don’t publicly reply to the more personal messages I get on here, but yours really struck a chord with me. Thank you so much for sending it.

I know what you’re going through. I have been stuck in similar patterns for many years. I started suspecting I was trans when I was 15, asked my closest friends to be called by a male name and pronouns when I was around 19, but only decided to transition medically and publicly this year, at 26. It takes time.

Every year I would get an intense few months of feeling like I needed to transition, but always decided against it, for the very same reasons you named. Feeling like I could survive just like this. Feeling like if I could do without it, then it wasn’t something I had to « put myself through ». That it also wasn’t something I had to put others through. I intellectualised it to the point of finding many material reasons not to do it, focused on my fears and the vulnerability it would bring, just to occlude that very simple question: what do I want?

Delaying doing it, thinking it’s fine, it’s just a discomfort, is because you’ve lived with it for so long it doesn’t register as pain anymore. But it is pain.

Why should you settle for survival? Why would stating what you want be selfish? What are you really putting others through? Some tweaks in the way they address you, maybe some confusion and questions they’d never asked themselves before, that can only broaden their understanding of human complexity. The hostility often comes from defensiveness, but it's not your problem anyway.

You don’t have to do it all at once. Hormones can be started, stopped, picked up again. The changes are gradual. You don’t have to come out to everyone right away, just a select few you trust. But you’ll see, freedom is addictive.

I got to this point after years of unease by being around my amazing trans friends, and seeing them thriving and caring for each other, and them telling me: you love us like this, so allow yourself the same grace.

[anstarwar]

Bonding time for the commanders

Wrote a thing for it on the fly, not edited at all, but was having fun thinking about their dynamic...

"So, um, what's it like in there?" Barriss asked casually, flicking some dirt from her skirts.

Gree, who was lost in his datapad entering some note about a leaf he just discovered, only replied with "hmm?"

This is how their conversations usually went, much to Barriss' frustration. She'd been...commander (weird)...of the 41st for three months now and had gotten no further in breaking through to her fellow commander.

Maybe this is just how it was supposed to work between Jedi and Clones? They had a job to do, she reasoned, so maybe the clones didn't want to be...friends? That didn't feel right to her, but nothing to be done about it.

"Never mind," she cleared her throat, wrapped her robes tighter around her shoulders and went to find Master Luminara.

+++

Two months later...

"Do you want to see, Commander?" Gree asked as he examined the visor of his helmet in his hands. He'd spent the better part of an hour fiddling with the wires, scrubbing the dirt away, and touching up scraped off bits of green paint.

Barriss looked at him, eyebrow arched in question.

"...my bucket...helmet. You asked a few months ago and...well, if you're still curious." He answered, rolling it around in his hands.

"Is it ok?" Barriss replied, hesitant.

Gree wasn't sure how to answer that. Helmets, to the clones, were personal. You didn't share yours with anyone just willy-nilly. They were designed for protecting a very vital part of their body (though Gree was convinced some of his brothers didn't use their noggins as often as they should, so he's not sure how effective they were for those particular troops), and tweaked and customized to each wearer's specifications. They were as close as anything to a prized possession for many of them and "is it OK" wasn't as simple a question as it sounded.

But Gree had also spent a month trying to get to know his little Commander. Well, little wasn't quite the right word. Barriss was fearsome, strong, and wise beyond her years - but she was small, barely coming up to his shoulder. She was too young to see the things they saw on a daily basis, and it pained him to know she also had to live this life. That, like the clones, she wouldn't truly know what it was like to be a kid. It was like a blaster to the gut the day he realized she also didn't have much choice in the matter, and that she was working so hard to hide her own pain and worry.

It hit him one day that maybe she needed reassurance just as much as his own troops. Not from the fighting or the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, but from her own self-doubts and insecurities. She was his little sister, his vod'ika. So he'd decided he'd do what he could to reassure her and, he reasoned, that meant breaking down his own walls and getting to know her. To build trust.

"Yeah...yeah its ok, here just..." Gree moved to place it on her head, but paused. "...don't know if it'll fit over your robes there, Commander."

Barriss laughed. "No I suppose not." She scrunched up her nose, an expression Gree observed she'd make when she was coming to a decision.

"What about..." Barriss pushed back her hood and unwrapped the robe from around her shoulders.

"Here," she said, extending it out to Gree with a shy smile.

He took it, holding it in front of him like it was a specimen he found on the underside of a lartie, and not a piece of cloth. He arched his brow at the Padawan.

"You're sharing something important with me, so it's only fair I do the same, yeah?" she said in explanation.

Gree nodded, but wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He shook it out, not sure what he was expecting it to do, but it felt like the best option. It wasn't like he'd never seen or held a cloak before, but this belonged to a Jedi, his Commander. Was there some sort of protocol or etiquette he should be aware of?

Barriss chuckled. "You can put it on and I'll put on your helm-bucket?" She looked into the visor of the helmet as if it would tell her what to call it. "Bucket," she nodded, turned it the proper direction and plopped it on her head.

"Whoa," crackled through the vocoder as things flickered to life on the HUD. Scrolls of data came through, lights blinked here and there --indicating what she wasn't sure. It was a lot and she felt the urge to rip it off of her head to stop the onslaught of information. She thought better of it, though. Gree had trusted her with it and she didn't want to make some egregious error in etiquette or cause offense.

She centered her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the flashes and pings. "Oh my god," her hand flew up, smacking the aerator, unused to the extra bulk around her face.

Giggles erupted from the vocoder. "Commander Gree you, haha, you look...well..." Gree shifted, pulling the hood of the robe over his head while simultaneously flicking the edges of the robe over his pauldrons. He was struck, suddenly, by an urge he hadn't let himself feel since he was a cadet.

Grinning mischievously he stuck his tongue out at the young commander. "I look amazing! I think I might keep this." He flapped the edge of the robe at Barriss.

"I didn't say..." Barriss lifted the helmet and held it propped on the top of her head. She stuck her tongue out as if that would make him give the robe back.

He stuck his tongue out in return.

"Click click." Gree and Barriss' whipped their heads around at the sound.

"Lookin' good commanders!" Captains Styles and Grey stood, barely suppressing their laughter, Styles holding up his datapad, clearly having just snapped a holo of their superior officers.

"You are going to delete that holo right now, Captain!" Gree grumbled, pushing the hood back from his head.

"You are going to send me that holo right now, Captain Styles!" Barriss said as she strode over to the clone, holding out her hand. "Can I see?"

"Sorry Commander, but the Commander outranks you," Styles looked at Gree, eyes twinkling with glee, as he handed the datapad to the Padawan.

"Oh, yup, you're right Commander Gree. You do look amazing!" She beamed as she took in the holo.

Gree sighed, he knew when he was defeated. Pulling the purple hood back over his head he straightened and marched off towards camp.

"Hey! Your bucket, Gree! I need my robe back, hey!" Barriss yelled as she chased after him.

+++

oops this was way longer than I meant. If you made it to the end here, thanks for reading!

[cherrypiecaroline]

I thought I was done, turns out I wasn’t. Here’s a few short, disjointed paragraphs about Astyanax winning the hearts of all of Ody’s family members.

(Please remember all of these, especially the one with Athena, I’m sure won’t be canon but I hope they entertain you nonetheless)

~~~

“Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you? He’s still a threat until he’s dead! Finish him.”

Odysseus didn’t move to pull his arm free from Athena’s grip. “I can’t.”

She blinked, unable to believe her ears. “You… can’t?”

“He’s more dangerous now than he was when he could see. He’d chase us out to the ship in this state. Safer to sneak away now.”

“I knew a boy who didn’t care what was safer, once- I knew a boy who didn’t care if he was gored by tusks as long as he took a monster down with him-!”

“That boy only had himself to think about. I no longer have any such luxury.”

Here, he finally did pull away, but not to stand defiantly with his fists curled or his arms crossed. He, almost without thinking about it, ran a hand across his swelling belly, like he was cradling it.

And all at once, Athena, Great Pallas, understood. He couldn’t. He mustn’t do anything to risk harming the stranger who took up residence inside him.

“… Run. Now.”

~~~

Penelope cradled the strange little thing with bright gold eyes as Odysseus cleared the squatters out of their house.

Astyanax. He had said his name was Astyanax. Prince Astyanax of Ithaca. She wouldn’t deny, it had a nice ring to it. His eligibility couldn’t even be questioned- he was the spitting image of Odysseus, even this young.

His hair curled in the same way, what little of it had grown in. There was the same head-tilt to understand her, like when her beloved was faced with a tough puzzle or difficult bit of diplomacy. His nose scrunched the same way as he clearly wondered who she was, and his laugh bubbled in that same sweet little giggle that her Ody would deny to most visiting dignitaries, but that Asty released now when she tapped his nose with her finger.

“Dear child,” she said quietly, as screams and her husband’s war voice rang out in the throne room, “I may not know whose you were. But this day and every day after, you are mine.”

~~~

Telemachus had never seen a person so small in his life.

The intruders to the palace trying to win his mother’s hand had all towered over him like gods, cackling and braying in drunken yells, destroying everything and eating endlessly. Astyanax, the creature introduced to him as his little brother, seemed largely the same. His babbles bore about as much sense and substance as the drunken rambling of his mother’s suitors, and his appetite was clearly just as insatiable.

However, this stranger, this prince, was brought in by the king. By his father. And as no nursery was ready for him, this evening, he spent the night with the elder prince of Ithaca.

Telemachus was exhausted. It had been a very long day, but he hadn’t even spoken to his own brother yet. So, he stood and padded from his bed to Asty’s- was that a good nickname? Big brothers gave nicknames, was that a passable one? He could workshop it. Anyway, the baby was sleeping, but stirred as Telemachus approached him.

“Hello,” he said softly, careful not to wake him. “My name is Telemachus.”

The baby didn’t answer.

“Uh… it’s nice to meet you.” He put his hand into the crib, extending a finger as if to offer to shake hands. Astyanax grabbed his finger with his whole hand and pulled it into his mouth, as if trying to soothe himself.

“… I will never let anything happen to you,” he told his little brother quietly.

:O!!!!!!! omg i LOVE THESE!!! I had some idea of how I'd go about Athena's reaction to Ody's whole baby situation in this AU but I was a bit lost on what to do with the rest of his family, hope you don't mind if i perhaps use some of this for inspo. Especially parts of Telemachus's section

with some tweaks, ofc, because *spoiler alert!* im planning on Astyanax being older when Ody returns. How old? Great question! Idk what the fuck to do with the timeline but for the sheer fun of it I'm somehow trying to make Ody hit most if not all of the major locations he hit in Canon Epic on his journey back home. But, like, minus the angst. It'll be a generally light hearted series of plot points following canon but he'll manage to get home to his family without losing an extremely large span of time to his travels. Is this feasible realistically? Who knows! It's my AU and i make the rules >:)

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think Adrien is a bad hero?

That's a complex question. It's kind of like asking, "Are Alya and Nino bad friends?"

The way canon has written them, I do kind of have to answer, "Yes," but at the same time, I would never write them as such because it's so antithetical to their role in the narrative. They're victims of bad writing who were never intended to read the way canon has made them read. You can tell this because almost every instance of them being terrible friends is not treated as them being terrible friends by the narrative.

Adrien is in a similar boat. The writers have consistently had him do unheroic things, but the narrative doesn't treat these actions as unheroic. I think this happens for a very obvious reason: he's a fictional character whose actions will always reflect the writers' vision of what's fine for a hero/romantic lead to do no matter how messed up that vision is.

For example, in Glaciator, Adrien ignores Ladybug telling him that she's too busy to meet up that night, but the narrative somehow paints this as Ladybug being in the wrong by giving Marinette a massive guilt trip for... sticking to the plan she and Adrien had already agreed to?

Marinette:(looks around in awe) Wow! Cat Noir, this is... beautiful! (notices Cat Noir looking glum) I'm so sorry. Cat Noir: Why? It's not your fault. Marinette: No— Yeah— I mean— What I mean is I'm very sorry for you because, um, you prepared all of this and then... she didn't show. Cat Noir: She told me she might not make it but I had my fingers crossed. I really wanted her to come. Marinette:(walks over next to him) Maybe she had a really good reason for not coming. Like, a problem or something. Cat Noir: You're only saying that to make me feel better.

And the akuma in this episode is Marinette's fault, not Adrien's, even though Adrien is the one breaking plans and ignoring people telling him that they're too busy. I have no idea what the lesson of that episode was supposed to be, I just know that it was weird. But none of that is Adrien's fault because he's a fictional character who is a slave to the writer's vision. Adrien has no power to be better than the writers. No character does.

So, yeah, the show often paints Adrien as a pretty lack luster hero and I cringe every time it happens, but I still have no issue writing or reading him as a good hero because it's blatantly obvious that he's not supposed to read as a bad hero. Otherwise you wouldn't get him constantly having the role of picking Ladybug up when she's at her lowest. That whole "you and me against the world, my Lady" thing that sounds really cool, but never amounts to anything because the writing sucks. I mean, season five literally ends with Ladybug up against the world and he doesn't show, but it's totally cool, I guess!

In summary, I think Adrien is often written as a bad hero, but pretty much every character in this show is a bad person if we take their actions at face value, so I won't slap him with that label in my own writing as its unfair to hold him to a standard I don't hold any other character to. It is extremely easy to make a few minor tweaks to his character and make him a wonderful hero.

[swifty-fox]

of course everything you write is amazing but you’re also really out doing yourself with cicada season. the depth of gale’s trauma that you probe but don’t unfold, letting it lurk and dictate who he is while keeping us (and gale too kinda) in the dark. the way you write bucky in this is like i’m getting to know him along with gale and falling in love with him too. the history of his tbi and how it intertwines with what gale struggles with (unconsciously knowing but not knowing things about yourself and the curiosity of such a thing.) the way as gale grows so do his frogs. the comments and tidbits which i hope buck and bucky get later on when they are happy together. (gale having a family, gale having romance, gale having more than marge) i also think its hilarious that bucky doesn’t know benny is gay the same way gale didn’t think bucky was gay. gale letting him stay the night and hold him healed me in a way i hope it works to heal gale too. and the ending? oooo helen you onto him you know what you’re doing. let yourself *feel* gale 😅

i’ve also got a theory: gale is so adamant he wants no romance, nothing to chance, etc but if/when bucky shows up the next time acting like nothing ever happened he’s also gonna be like *what the fuck*

bucky taking buck’s virginity — 16 year old me who always wanted to marry the person she lost her viriginity too (i didnt but i was a romantic) is crying.

wahhh this is SO sweet im kissing you anon.

Cicada season is definitely VERY near and dear to my heart. It's such a project and I'm working so hard really deliver the best piece I can. I'm not really a Kill Your Darlings writer. I don't cut a ton. But I've cut and edited and tweaked so much of it before it's even gone to beta.

for Gale's trauma I PROMISE we're gonna get at least half an answer next chapter. But yes I think it's fun kind of unfolding what happened as Gale does in therapy. Even though he remembers, being able to confront to directly is something he struggles with. I have a friend who shall remain anonymous who has been advising me with ptsd stuff at some stress to their own triggers and I can't be more grateful that they're willing to help me out with this. (You know who you are <3)

Their (and my) main motivation was to make SURE Gale was not just his trauma and his triggers and while yes part of the point of the story is that Gale has allowed himself to become caught up in bad coping mechanisms and unable to grow I wanted you to also just learn Him before I laid it all out on the table, as you would with a real life person.

And Gale and John are two sides of the same coin! Because John absolutely has ptsd from what he went through. And so yes when he recognized the panic attack in gale in the previous chapter it's cause he's like 'damn I and people I know have been exactly there' while also holding him accountable for being a grown adult who is capable and SHOULD manage his reactions ina way that's healthy for everyone. John himself is in therapy, though a little less so now that he's a few years out (I'm still researching tbi stuff but he does have long term PT and MT support)

I thought the helen bit was sooo funny I don't think she meant be present with what you're feeling by getting dicked down but you do you gale!!!

HAH We will see. I don't plan out my chapters too much besides a few key scenes I wanna hit. How Gale reacts to something I only know before it happens about 50% of the time.

OH HAVENT WE ALLL HAD THAT MOMENT

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Progress update!💙

Hello hello and welcome new followers, here's how the game is coming along! This update is a bit late and might be kind of short. :[]

Firstly, thank you to everyone that participated in the poll before it ended. The overall results and responses gave me a better direction for the start of the game! It's good knowing that majority of you found out how to proceed and didn't have too much trouble with it. :,] If you still want to give your opinion on the start of the game feel free to comment!

Update progress:

It's time to talk about the scenes for the endings:

Last week I mentioned the two endings you could get that are from the [Extended Demo]. Now that they both have their own separate choice I went through and did some final touch ups. Even though they're almost finished I may come back and tweak them.

Timers:

I had plans to actually add timed choices in the [Extended Demo] but I didn't have the time( :P ) to add them in. I'm still working on how I want the design to look and where to place it so this is just a test example of what's to come. These won't be used often but they'll be in places where I feel the situation requires urgency. >:[]

The cave:

Before:

After:

Most of changes for this ending ranged from dialog adjustments to small immersive effects being added to fit the scene better. There's another variant ending mixed in there as well, you get the same outcome but it depends on what you do before then. I also dialed the exploration for this part back to it's original. Given the players(Y/N) state at the start, this section would've made the path too long for my liking and wouldn't fit the original symbolism I was going for.

The bridge:

Before:

After:

I had a lot of fun with this one since it's another favorite of mine! This one required a lot of tweaking since this area is only accessible to the player(Y/N) through two* different places.

The way to this area is not the same from the [Extended Demo] anymore and was expanded out from the courtesy of my play tester's suggestions. Most of the dialog changed and I'm still in the process of adding immersive effects here. I loved the way the original looked and decided to just revamp what I already drew. I even moved the bridge upwards to actually show the lead up to it versus being blocked by the dialog box. This one won't have a variant(?) ending but will play out differently compared to the [Extended Demo]. This is still a big work in progress and I didn't get a chance to fully finish this yet. :[]

I didn't adjust the progress bar only because not too much has been updated for right now and I'm still working on The bridge section. :[]

If you like what I create, please consider supporting what I do on kofi! All donations and tips help tremendously while I work on the game. A very huge thank you to those that have optionally bought the [Extended Demo] and the March 2023 demo on itch.io too, it really means a lot. :,]

Q&A / Ask box is open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here or on itch.io please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

I won't be able to do too much for the next few days but thank you guys for the encouraging support and patience, I really appreciate it! :,]

[chaiandsage]

hi um. Having just finished my fourth (?) read of trust life, i have a couple things to say/ask

the first thing is Oh My God it’s incredible probably one of my favourite fics ever your writing is amazing and the characterisation is always on point

The next thing is how much planning went into the fic before writing? Theres so much detail and you clearly knew where everyone was and when

also just out of pure curiosity, did you have any sort of map of the world its set in? Or just the mental image ?

"You clearly knew where everyone was and when." Raph let me tell you it was a literal miracle I only had like one or two slip-ups on that end (that I know of). To this day I have no idea how I got away with it. There were just so many moving parts with five teams, fifteen people, and however many breakups/makeups/exes/friendships to keep track of. I had to remember which characters knew which bits of information at any given time, which characters were still left in the dark about certain things, and what lives everyone was on. I kept forgetting that players do NOT respawn with their belongings during this game and had to keep fixing that, same idea with trying to remember where everyone's last sleeping spot was so that they'd respawn in the correct locations whenever they died. It was… a lot. Not saying this fic wasn't still insanely fun to write though. It was both of those those things.

I did have an outline made that I roughly stuck to that covered a decent amount of what happened from beginning to end. A lot of it got cut out cause that fic was getting WAY too long. But to answer your question, yeah, there was a LOT of planning. My outline for this fic literally just consisted of a bunch of 1-3 sentence paragraphs explaining what events would pass and why in very simple terms, and even that took up like a couple dozen pages. But there was also a lot of stuff that I threw in while the fic was still being updated.

Like, I still wanted to try to work in what was going on with the cc's in the real world since most of this story was suppose to take place 6 months later. So when 6 months later had passed in real life I tried to tweak the story accordingly as best I could which really just required me to change up a few of the places they went to once the game had ended. The decision to have Jimmy flee to Evo was also something I changed while still posting chapters. I was thinking about somehow making him go back to the Third Life server instead but then thought: "How cool would it be if Grian's emotions were tied to Evo and that caused his, Jimmy's, and Bigb's conversation to be 10x more dramatic?" So I did that instead.

Then there was also a change with the Deep Frost Citadel, the location for that setting getting changed a couple of times. I was originally gonna have Scott tell Tango he loved him for the first time back in Tumble Town but then only realized months later that "wait- wait a minute… It NEVER RAINS desert biomes!!" So yeah, more tweaking of the story went on there but I definitely think the change ended up being for the better regardless of the whole rain problem, lol. But yeah, once again: a lot. A lot of planning went into that story (what I wouldn't give to be half as enthusiastic about actual important life stuff as I was with this fic). But there was also a lot that was changed and cleaned up as it was still being written.

As for a map, I HAD one at one point but ended up tossing it once the fic ended. But here's a hasty re-drawing from memory that I may or may not have forgotten to include a few things in:

I actually had some fun remaking this, so thank you for that! Also huge thanks for reading my fic! I am losing my marbles at the fact that you liked it enough to read it four times and that it’s one of your favorites too? Oh my god?? Thank you so much!

[dozyarchive]

Same anon here I loved the answers to my other one. I might have a few more. How is Lillianna as a driver? Is she one of those fast dangerous drivers or a slow cautious driver? Then do they do like any dangerous or weird activities that maybe seem a little to dangerous to others. You can correct me if I’m wrong but I’m going to assume that Logan’s racing career is what it it like in real life; so what does he do once he is no longer racing in f1? Then does anyone ever flirt with Lillianna and Max sees and gets jealous? If it is another driver do they ever have to deal with mad Max on the track? Then you say her family works is security and they sometimes provide it for celebrities. Do celebrities ever like see her at places and come up and say hi? Then what type of car does she prefer as her daily driver? You also talked about others considering her kind of like a mother figure. Do they ever gang up on Max? Then what does Lillianna do in the families company? Also what does her brother’s wedding look like? Is her family into any sports or anything?

I loved how you had Jos be kind afraid of her once Lillianna claws came out a little on someone.

You answering my first questions has just opened the flood gates for other questions. 🫶

Lilli is a VERY good driver, she has been driving since she was 14 (I started learning at 13) and is a safe, but efficient, driver. Her father taught Luca how to drive first, and when Lucas got good enough, he brought her along so she could see the process.

As for weird or dangerous activities, I think the only thing they do that could really be considered dangerous would be some of the deep-sea fishing trips where Lucas and Logan managed to catch a shark or two. Lucas like to hike and camp as well, so some of that could be considered dangerous, but nothing really weird.

As for Logan’s racing career, it will be mostly canon compliant, but there will be some minor tweaks to fit the narrative! And as for after he gets dropped… well, I’ll leave that as a surprise for y’all to find out later ;)

Lilli gets hit on quite a lot in the beginning, but it’s mostly in bar’s or places where people don’t know who she is. They just see an attractive woman and go for it. Max doesn’t really acknowledge it until Lilli and Max begin talking, but at this point people are more aware of who she is, and are more hesitant to talk to her. Of course, there’s always the sleaze-balls at all of the business dinners and events that she attends regarding her grandfather’s company, but you can’t really escape them. That’s where Lucas or Logan come into the picture. Max will be told about it, but he’s more angry at the guys than jealous. Lilli isn’t the type of person to give someone a second glance when she’s got someone who she’s interested in. And the drivers respect her too much to try anything, especially considering most of them have partners. Plus, Lilli wouldn’t give ¾ of them a glance, based on age and what she knows about them personality wise. The only real option would be Lewis, but they have a strictly platonic relationship. (If any of the retired drivers gave her a wink it was none of their business, she just gives them that camera smile and walks by).

For the family business, Lilli is actually rarely dealing with the celebrities themselves, mostly speaking with their management teams. She has had the chance to meet a few of them through events and dinners held by either her grandfather or some close business partner, but it’s mostly the polite greetings and small talk one would expect. Though, if there are children involved, Lilli is a bit more enthusiastic (she loves kids) and will speak with them more in depth. 

As her daily driver, Lilli has a GMC Yukon she got in 2018. It’s a custom color, a dark black-blue, and the interior is white with navy blue accents. It was the first car she bought completely on her own and got it customized as a little present for herself. She likes larger vehicles, mostly due to her height, but can and will drive anything she is given. She can drive manual and automatic, but prefers automatic. She has a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class in the UK, and a white Honda CR-V in Switzerland. She has those three and those three only, but will borrow a car from her father from time to time.

Liam absolutely will gang up on Max with Oscar. It’s really just light teasing, fun stuff, but Liam has given him a modified shovel talk. Oscar didn’t need to, Logan had done it well enough when Max first expressed interest in Lilli. He just kind of stood to the side, but the look in his eyes told max enough. Alex, George, and even Fred have all taken a shot at him before, but Fred has been the only one to properly tell him to be careful, kind of like Liam. When Max first meets Kyle and Colton as someone who was interested in Lilli, Kyle cornered him and scared him shitless while Colton distracted Lilli. Logan came up at one point and told Kyle to “not be too hard on him, he needs to get his beauty sleep” for Lilli.

Lilli is currently a lead data analyst, but also handles high profile clients in regards to the security personnel. She kind of takes on a part-time position during the race season, but as soon as it’s over she’s full send. Lilli has an associates in psychology, a bachelor’s in business management, and a masters in data analysis and cybersecurity, so she’s highly qualified and could totally move up, she just chooses not to.

Lucas and June’s wedding is an outdoor wedding on the Florida coast, but it’s not a beach wedding, more like a garden party style. It’s a medium and light blue, cream, and light purple color palette, with a smaller ceremony but a large reception. Logan is Lucas’s best man, Lilli is one of the bridesmaids, and one of June’s niece’s is the flower girl. Lilli absolutely cries and so does Logan. At some point there’s a video from one of the dance’s posted. It’s Lucas and Lilli, and you can see tears in both of their eyes. (I’m so excited to write the wedding it’s going to be SO cute)

Lilli’s family is mildly into sports, she’s more partial to baseball and hockey, but Lucas, her father, and Logan like them all. Lucas has a signed Miami Dolphins jersey and Lilli has a signed game puck from Matthew Tkachuck after the Panther’s first win in the 2022 season, as well as a baseball bat signed by A.J. Ramos of the Miami Marlins.

Thank you for all the questions, I love talking about my fics and that y’all are so invested!