#Wait. Is that entire paragraph one sentence

[skhardwarevers1]

life is going to an art museum only to have something happen that forces you to distract yourself in the world of art and when it comes time to think you try to think of anything but yourself and you land yourself in a rabbit hole of fandom mischaracterization that went identified too late and is engraved in the thoughts of many, only noticed by few, and soon to be hopefully captured on a digital canvas—a free place for the muddled thoughts between my head and my pencil to live.

[kirbmey]

⠀⠀ ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ cockwarming w husband!sylus ⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: school was too much, exams were the only thing you could think about and sylus wanted to help you relax and drift away ( 〃．．)

tw: smut but fluffy, sylus is so delicate with reader, cockwarming duh, mentions of size training, breeding, reader is babied, etc.

again you found yourself with both your elbows propped on top of the desk, reading and rereading every paragraph from the notes you took in class, the sentences mixing between each other.

you made sure your sleeping gown was already on, skincare already done and hair put together in two messy braids, telling yourself this was going to be the last day you’d stay up so late to study. well, you told yourself that yesterday too (*￣∀￣)

on the other hand, sylus was done with todays duties, sending luke and kieran off to some sneaky mission, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked towards your shared room. he knew you were stressed, and he knew you needed some aid from him since you were too fixated on getting the best grades. he told you several times that you didn’t need to study at all, that he could provide you for every lifetime, but you complied.

as he approached said room he noticed a faint warm light peeking through the gap under the door, sighing and entering silently, finding you almost asleep on top of your notes, the dinner plate he left you before heading to his office untouched.

he took off his belt, throwing it aside and got close to your smaller frame sitting in the big desk chair, caressing your messy hair as he leaned to leave small kisses along your cheek, taking in how you opened those pretty eyes he loved so much.

“kitten, how are you feeling?” he whispered against your skin, feeling the vibration of his low voice against your face. you stir, rubbing your eyes with a weak fist before straightening your back, looking up to him with a pout while nodding lazily.

“can’t study m’re, sy.” you blurred out, eyes almost tearing up because you wanted him to feel proud of you, to cherish every single perfect grade you pulled.

“that’s fine, princess, you did great, but you have to eat and get some sleep, hmm?” he coaxed you into his body by holding your hips and lifting you up, leaving you to rest on the comfort of your king sized bed and its silky sheets while he traveled to the kitchen to cook your favorite dish instead of the one he gave you hours ago.

after some minutes he went back with a tray, said dish resting on it with some chocolate to eat after, knowing that you needed something sweet after eating.

he sat next to you, caressing your cheek to gain your attention; you were mindlessly playing with the fabric of the sheets while waiting for your husband. you noticed how he spred his long and fit legs along the mattress, indicating you to sit on your favorite place, his lap.

“can we… y’know.” you voiced shyly after a few bites he hand fed you, expecting the classic teasing he always gave you. sylus knew you wanted him inside you, just to warm you up, something you two started practicing not so long ago to size train you, finding comfort in this along the way.

so he didn’t tease, knowing how tired your little brain was for anything at all, holding your hip with one big palm to make you momentarily stand up before pulling himself out off his dressing pants, cock soft at your sight.

your smaller hand tried reaching it to give him a few strokes, being stopped by the white haired man and looking at his crimson eyes, pupils heart-shaped as he did it himself, allowing you to sink on him at a really slow peace after putting your slightly wet cotton panties aside.

“there you go, good girl.” he encouraged you while you took him fully, his dick not entirely hard anyway. he then went back to feed you, cleaning up your mouth when it got dirty and bringing the glass of water to your lips when you where thirsty.

you finally finished the dish after long minutes; he didn’t really care about how much effort it took you, having the patience of a saint when it came to you. sylus put the tray aside on the table next to your shared bed, not forgetting about the chocolate he brought.

a cute smile crept up your juicy lips, opening your mouth when he fed it to you ounce by ounce, subtly sifting on his lap when he grew bigger inside you at the sight of your sleepy face enjoying the sweet.

sure, he should’ve brought you to the bathroom and wash your teeth after that, but how could he wake up the little bunny who fell asleep against his naked chest right after, quietly snoring and holding his opened shirt between weak fingers?

he just comfortably sat down there, buried deep inside you, one huge hand massaging your nape while the other held a book, reading it while resting his chin on your head.

the way he slowly thrusted into you in the morning while licking your oh so sweet lips and filling you up after holding it in for the whole night is something i’ll keep private, though (シ_ _)

a/n: wanted to make this some daddy writing but I’m reserving that for zaynie (⇀ ‿ ↼ )

— masterlist.

[mejaemin]

many more (forever) - hong jisoo

wc: 1.1k

summary: jisoo said he wanted to spend the rest of his birthdays with you, so when midnight comes, he makes sure of it ♡

warnings: proposals, kissing, the rest of the sebongs r mentioned, but only jeonghan has actual dialogue !!! lots of cuteness !!! might be a little rushed and low quality

an: happy new year everyone !!! i guess im on a real joshua kick because i wrote this all today !!! i feel like such a loser posting this when i should be partying but like i said i’m the black cat so i chose to hide in my corner and post this instead :DD

(p.s. can you tell that the first paragraph or two was just me ranting ab my love for svt)

** this is a part two to joshua’s birthday fic many more !!! you don’t have to but i recommend you read it first !! **

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

it’s new year’s eve, and you’re welcoming the new year with the same thirteen boys who have kept you alive since your adolescence. many friends have come and gone, along with so much drama. you’ve experienced your fair share of trauma and all the things to help season your personality, and it’s always been them who were by your side. maybe it’s the alcohol that had been shoved in your face but it brings you to tears knowing that you’re going into yet another year with those you love.

like, seriously. they’re all your biggest priority, and their friendship and affection is something you wouldn’t trade for the world. at this point, it’s not even friendship. you’re all family. looking at all of them around you, laughing and playing games together, a few sharing drunken affections, it gives you a feeling of warmth.

you’re sitting with jeonghan on the couch, observing the others as they continue playing games and partying. he’ll occasionally comment or say something to throw one of them off, and your cheeks warm, giggling as you fit into the atmosphere. he turns to you, an eyebrow raised.

“you’re awfully quiet,” he starts, taking a large sip of his drink before pouring the rest of it into your cup. “join the fun, why don’t you?” he teases.

“i would be having fun if you all would quit stealing my boyfriend from me every time i try talking to him..” you say back with a little too much bite, drinking from your newly refilled cup. you wince at the flavor, but it’s good enough to let you loosen up.

jeonghan checks the time on his phone, and the screen lights up: five minutes until midnight. with that he smirks, getting up and holding his hand out to you. “well, let’s find him then.”

you let jeonghan lead you through the house, exchanging small words with some of your friends before finally finding joshua. funnily enough, he’s being crowded by seungcheol and seokmin. they all seem to be in deep conversation, and jeonghan turns to you, putting a finger up, signalling “one moment” before joining in. joshua’s blushing throughout their entire conversation, and funnily enough it reminds you of the conversation he was having before he asked you out. same people and everything. they start to conclude their chat, seungcheol patting him on the back before he can finally make his way towards you.

putting his cup down on the nearest surface, he finally meets you and brings you into a hug. “hey, baby. sorry i’ve been so caught up.” he gives you a kiss, one full of warmth before pulling away with his signature eye smile. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the excitement of going into the new year but you can feel his heart racing against your cheek.

“are you okay? what are they teasing you about over there?” you raise an eyebrow.

someone’s turned the countdown on the tv, and there’s about two minutes. he turns to you, kissing your head. “you’ll find out soon enough.”

you stay right where you are, engaging in conversation with the others while you wait. there’s many strange looks you catch some of the boys giving him, and he pauses every couple sentences to hide his face in your neck. yet, every time you ask him what it’s about, he dismisses you.

finally, it’s down to the last twenty seconds, and everyone huddles together on the same couch (both the back of it and the arms are being sat on as well, and you and a few others had to sit on people’s laps to all fit). just as it hits the last ten seconds everyone begins pushing you and joshua to stand up on the floor. with a dramatic groan, he helps you up and stands beside you, an arm around your shoulder.

five… four… three… two… one!!!

the group erupts into cheer, confetti poppers and noise makers blowing everywhere. a few (all) of the members are kissing each other and everyone’s cups clink together and sticky drinks splatter everywhere but you pay no mind because as soon as the fireworks started bursting your lips met joshua’s in the sweetest kiss, welcoming in the new year. his touch is so gentle, hand shaking slightly against the back of your head as he holds you, giving you the best of his love to start your year the right way. when you pulled away you were going to question why it was a little frantic but everyone’s shouting of “go! go! do it!” overpowered your words, and you turn to them to see what they’re talking about. they immediately gesture for you to turn back, and when you do your world stops.

joshua’s gotten down on one knee. you immediately feel almost lightheaded, your heart rate quickening and your body heating up. he looks up at you, and his smile is anxious yet golden as he reaches in his pocket. he’s about to start his ment, but first turns to the boys and gives them a look to shut them up. once they do, he gives them a sweet smile before returning to you.

“darling.. oh, wow, i’m nervous, sorry. anyway, i don’t know if you were conscious enough to hear me when i said this last night..” his expression is teasing. “but i said that i wanted to spend many more of my birthdays with you. my time with you is something extremely dear to me, and i’d do anything to make sure i can have it for the rest of my life. of course, that’s my wishful thinking, and i’ll take whatever time with you that you’ll give me, but i figured that we could come to a mutual agreement with something like this, so..” with a deep breath, your name falls from his lips. “will you please do me the honor of spending the rest of our birthdays and new years as my wife?” he finally takes the velvet box out of his pocket, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. it’s exactly your style, and with tears in your eyes you vigorously nod your head yes.

it’s quite unconventional but you fall to your knees, wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug of your life. “yes, please, josh, oh my god, yes!” you cry, laughing when he pulls you off him to slide the ring on your finger. it fits perfectly, and in the seven thousand camera flashes of everyone around it shines beautifully. when you look back up at him, he’s crying too, and he pulls you in for your second kiss of the new year, and the first as your fiancée. hopefully, like his plan was cut out, it’s the first of many.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[qin-qin16]

My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, writer Reader, Ink is mentioned, Error is jealousy, again, comedy, Reader finally notices that something wrong is happening! (Part one) (Part two)

“I should really get a new chair..." You say slowly, tilting your head back and feeling your neck stretch — a habit that you keep indulging in, no matter how sore it makes your nape afterward. "Then again, I also need to buy some new pants... and a new mouse as well..." Your head rolls over your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re staring at the computer screen again.

Your fingers lightly tap against the table; pinky, ring, middle, and index. One after the other in a rhythmic sequence — until you mess up and clench your hand into a loose fist.

"Ink definitely wouldn’t say that; he’s just so clueless." And there you are, deleting an entire paragraph for the third time, unhappy with how your story is turning out. "Why did I have to write about this jerk again?"

Because he’s a complex character with many layers that can add depth to your plot. You can almost imagine yourself explaining it, wearing glasses with a raised finger — just like that nerd emoji meme.

Even though your explanation was spot on, you can’t help but huff in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs before looking back at the blank Word document.

“... Why is this so bright?” If you were standing in front of a mirror, you’d definitely see your pupils constricting; a slight burning sensation spreading across your eyes as your finger keeps clicking on the computer keys, the brightness rapidly dimming.

Before you can blink, you let out a slow hiss. The burning in your eyes, sharp against your sensitive irises, returns suddenly; and in front of you, seemingly amused by the situation, your computer screen is set to full brightness.

"What the hell?" you curse, quickly covering your eyes with your hands as you pull away from the screen. For a moment, all you see is complete darkness, with a few bright spots flickering in your vision.

Maybe it’s time to start using eye drops; your eyes probably wouldn’t hurt so much after hours in front of the computer.

"I must have pressed the wrong key..." That’s a possibility, if it weren’t for a little voice in the back of your mind whispering the steps you took moments ago; you definitely pressed the right keys and released them at the right moment to actually dim the screen. "Or did I think I clicked but really didn’t?"

Your head droops onto your shoulders — and a low grunt escapes your lips as you feel the muscles in your neck stretch, pulling your shoulder blades along with them.

You rest your face in your hands, then rub your eyes and look at the computer again between your fingers. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Your feet shuffle toward the table, the rolling chair getting stuck at some point. “I just need to finish at least this dialogue before I can finally shut this thing down with a clear conscience.”

In theory, it should be a simple task; in practice, not so much. Especially when the paragraphs you’ve already written keep getting erased-

"What the hell is going on?!" You couldn’t believe — or understand — what was happening right before your eyes: sentence by sentence, your fanfic was being quickly erased, line by line.

You quickly moved the mouse away from the document, clicking anywhere else in the browser to stop your writing from being deleted — which didn’t do much good. The cursor soon started moving on its own, spinning around the screen until it selected an entire paragraph and deleted it.

"What’s going on?!" you shout as you repeat the same action, clicking outside the browser to keep the cursor from going back to the document, sliding it left, right — anywhere to keep whatever was controlling your mouse away from your precious fanfic. "Is this what a hacker attack feels like?"

It’s the only explanation; unless the existence of ghosts is not just real, but they also have the ability to manipulate electronics and understand how the internet works.

Before you could think any more about it, the cursor had returned to the center of the screen — but this time, before it could delete any more of your text, you quickly took control of the mouse, dragging it to the red box in the corner of the window and closing it for good.

You didn’t even curse or shout afterward; your mouth stays slightly open, slowly widening enough to express your disbelief at what had just happened. Your eyes remained fixed on the computer, even as your vision grew increasingly blurry, much like the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"What the hell was that? Was it some kind of virus? Or a hacker's prank? I didn’t share this document with anyone, so it must have been some damn hacker with no job doing something so messed up! But wait, what if it’s like those little computer avatars that are actually viruses messing with your documents and folders? Did I download something strange without even noticing?”

Your focus snaps back to the screen as a notepad file opens in the upper corner of your desktop.

HEHEHEHEHEHEH GOT YOU!

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, grinding your teeth together as your eyes scan the message in all caps again and again.

This was solid proof (at least for your stress-fried brain) that this was the work of a sadistic hacker, taking pleasure in your suffering. It was decided: you would take your computer to a specialist as soon as possible — hacker or not, you would get your precious computer back at any cost.

Banging your head against the desk — and grunting as the pain spreads across your forehead — you don’t even notice that the light on your webcam is on.

Tagging area, if you want to be tagged, just ask :D

@snastheskeleton64 @moon-and-fries @unamzi @something-random1-1-blog @lostsoulofdragon @notagamerlol @staryycheze

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

-

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

-

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

-

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

-

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

-> Chapter 1(Here)| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |...

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Hello everyone, pls don't expect much from this chapter,which is going to be part of a series, will be that good. I may have grammatical errors and wrong spellings so please don't hesitate to tell me in the comments about it. English is not my main language. Also, I write some very descriptive and long scenes about what the reader does because i got used to writing descriptive essays so please bear with the long paragraphs and sentences. Thank you.

And yes, I'm back. Also the Misunderstanding series will be updated after my exams this is just in my drafts and I wanted to just upload it.

-Eli

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms (😝 im joking bro) if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3.

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You close your eyes and think back to that very fateful day — the day that entirely altered your life's course and shatter any semblance of normalcy you once knew. The memory is etched in your mind, clear and vivid. The secret your café had.

You had always dreamed of owning your very own café when you get older. It had always consumed your thoughts and fueled your ambitions. Doing everything you can to be able to make your dream come true. It was a dream that guided you through your highs and lows, the setbacks and triumphs, and now, your very own cafe is now right infront of your eyes. You stand awe, gazing upon your newly built dream café that represents your years of hard work and dedication. It almost feels surreal. The weight of such an accomplishment settles in your shoulders, filling with a sense of pride that it threatens to burst out of your chest.

The obstacles and challenges you faced along the way have not gone unnoticed. The countless hours of planning, the sacrifices made, the hurdles overcome—each scar and battle wound a testament to your unwavering determination. They have shaped you into the person you are today, a person who is standing on the precipice of their own extraordinary creation. In this moment, you can't help but reflect on how far you have come. You just want to curl up into a ball and cry for how proud you are for yourself.

As you approach the door to your café, your hand trembles with anticipation. You grasp the smooth handle, feeling the coolness of the metal against your palm, and slowly turn it. The door swung open, emitting a soft creak that pierced the silence. Above it, a small, quaint bell dangled delicately, waiting to be disturbed. The cascade of delicate notes wove together seamlessly, announcing your presence, like a whispered greeting to anyone who would listen.

You stare in awe and wonder at the interior design of your cafe , captivated by it's beauty. The space exceeds your imagination and sketches, each detail meticulously brought to life. You explore every corner, your eyes eager to take in every detail. The plants you selected with great care breathe life into the space, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of freshness and enhancing the cozy, warm aura you envisioned. Sunlight steams through the windows, casting a golden glow that illuminates upon your carefully handpicked furniture, adding a touch of charm. Every detail, from the placement of tables and chairs to the color palette and textures and to the shelf placed at the wall behind the counter with small sized standees of genshin impact, comes together harmoniously, painting a reality that is more beautiful than it was in your imagination.

You took one last look at your own café, only to catch sight of a door that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. It wasn't in your sketches, nor was it part of the layout you had memorized. How could something so out of place suddenly appear in your beloved café? How weird. You were sure that when you went inside this café it was never there. It was on the opposite side of the front entrance door of your café. It had a very different kind of design from the doors you had. How weird . Were you perhaps hallucinating? Was your stress and sleep deprivation finally getting to you? You resort to pinching and slapping your cheeks in an attempt to jolt yourself back to reality. Nope. You can still see it. You rushed to go outside of your café. As you step out into the open, your eyes scanning the exterior, you're met with a surprising revelation—the door you saw inside your café is nowhere to be found. It's as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving you bewildered and questioning your senses.

Nonetheless, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief and once again went inside of your café, blaming your hallucination to your stress. However, as your eyes scanned the interior again, you saw the door still there.

'Oh, hell no.' You thought and quickly opened the front door again, took a look at the exterior, look at the door inside, and continued doing that action for a minute. Yup, you're officialy hallucinating.

You looked at the strange door and felt a nagging feeling of curiousity wanting to try and open that door. Maybe it was actually a big ass sticker that one of the builders placed as a prank. You never know. Steeling yourself, you went closer to the door on your tippy toes. Carefully trying to be quiet. Why? You don't know. You just knew you had to. Maybe it was an instinct of yours. You were now infront of the door and you tried reaching for the door knob still thinking it was a sticker but the coolness feeling in your hands said uno reverse. You abruptly took back your hand in shock. You stared down at the atrocity in front of you. You quickly raised your foot and took off your shoes/heel/slipper and held onto it tightly. Preparing yourself to open the door, you took in a deep breath and reached for the door knob once more. Twisting it open, a ray of sunlight shone through the small crack as you pushed the door open gently.

Your eyes widen at the sight infront of you as you had fully opened the door. The grip your hand had on your lethal weapon widened and it slipped from your hands. The sight infront of you was so surreal. 'This can't be true, right?' your head was going to so many places, unable to comprehend what was going on. You felt kinda dizzy.

You would be a fool not to recognize this place that you had seen so many times throughout your life. A few kilometers infront of you was the City of Mondstadt in view. You could even see the knights guarding the gate and Timmie with his pigeons at the bridge.

The weird door from your cafe was actually a door to the Genshin Impact world. Wow... wtf.

____________________________________

also pls take a look at my poorly drawn drawing of what your view looks like cause for the love of god I can't seem to explain it:

Also you're in a cliff or something. so yeah

Taglist:

None

[mythmash]

In Sickness

Pairing: Takuma Ino x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: birthday sickfic, lots of fluff, implied smut A/N: This was written for the wonderful @pastelbunnelby! JJK Masterlist

If there’s one thing Ino loves more than you, it’s the chance to celebrate you.

He’s been looking forward to your birthday for weeks, excitement pouring out of him each day it grew closer. A day hasn’t gone by without him dropping little hints hidden behind that charming grin of his. And it’d be a lie to say his eagerness wasn’t contagious. Every tease, every clue, every promise that your first birthday as a couple would be nothing short of spectacular had you eagerly awaiting the day almost as much as him.

That eagerness turns to pure, unfiltered excitement the night before your birthday when a box appears at your front door. It’s plain, smooth black material tied with a silky, white ribbon. The size tells you it’s either a dress or an outfit, but the card tucked into the ribbon gives you clear instructions not to open it until morning. Your fingers itch to disobey, nails picking at the edges of the ribbon, the corners of the lid, any part they can reach as you carry the box to your bedroom.

A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Knowing what you’ll be wearing would help you figure out how to do your hair…

What if there are no shoes in the box? You wouldn’t want Ino’s plans to be delayed because you spent too long finding the right pair.

What if it’s not an outfit at all? That’s even more time you’ll waste trying to find something else to wear.

Your mind races with a million reasons to tear into the box, fingers already curling under the lid.

But Ino’s handsome face flashes through your mind, a tight smile hiding his imagined disappointment. Something knots in your stomach, immediately repulsed at possibly ruining weeks of work. If Ino can manage to wait this long without spoiling the surprise, you can too.

You quell your anxious urges by sending him a picture of yourself holding the box before tucking it beneath your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Ino responds immediately, your phone buzzing once, twice, thrice as you prepare for bed.

Several texts await you when you finally settle in bed. A slew of heart emojis followed by a paragraph of compliments and finished with a single text wishing you a good night. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, feeling the warmth in your cheeks and the thrumming in your heart at the thought of him so excited to spend time with you.

You fall asleep staring at his photo beaming at you from the lock screen of your phone, and dream of all the ways you’ll spend tomorrow.

With all of your anticipation, it’s only fitting that you wake early the next morning with a throbbing pain nested comfortably in your head. When you shift beneath your covers, the pain spreads to your limbs, leaving a resounding ache. Every move, every blink, every thought only serves to make you feel worse until you grow frustrated and force yourself to sit up.

Your mistake is quickly realized as your vision doubles, stomach turning so violently you choke trying to swallow down your dry heave.

Of all the days for this to happen.

Carefully laying yourself back down, you gingerly slide your hand to the side for your phone. It takes a sickening effort to lift your phone and even more to get it close to your face. The artificial light is nearly blinding in the early morning hours, sending renewed pulses of pain through your skull. You put all your focus and concentration into unlocking your phone and finding Ino’s texts. There’s no way you’ll be able to form a proper sentence, much less type it out.

You’re not entirely sure what you say to him in the voice note. You know what you meant to say — something along the lines of “I’m so sorry, I think I’m sick.” — but your throat scratches with every word. Combined with your already sleep-thick voice, the message is short and takes what little energy you have left.

You succumb to your body’s exhaustion with the thought that maybe you should’ve called him.

When you wake again, it’s late in the morning. While your body no longer vibrates with pain, the heat building beneath your covers is suffocating and the scratch in your throat has grown significantly. Sweat-soaked and barely awake, you stumble your way to your bathroom and into the shower.

Most of your shower is spent sitting on the floor, letting the icy water wash across your overheated skin. You don’t bother with anything more than that, only just able to power through brushing your teeth before you feel that draining heaviness growing in your limbs.

You collapse on your bed, draped over your blankets half-dressed in clean pajamas, and fumble once more for your phone. You’re able to send an actual text this time, informing Ino of your current state and apologizing profusely. There’s no response, not even his usual thumbs up or heart reaction.

Ino isn’t one to get upset when plans change, always happy to go with the flow, but you know how much he was looking forward to today. He could need a moment to deal with his disappointment. Or he could be busy and not looking at his phone. You don’t want to jump to conclusions and assume the worst, but the guilt swimming around in your head has your anxiety on high.

Eyelids growing heavy, you tell yourself you’ll try again in fifteen minutes. If that doesn’t work, then you’ll call him.

Fifteen minutes, you think, letting your head sink into the soft cushion of your pillow.

All you need is fifteen minutes…

Three knocks in quick succession pull you out of your dreamless sleep. You wake confused and slightly startled, groaning into your pillow as the light and sound and blankets draped over you hit you all at once.

“Sorry.” Ino’s voice reaches your ears, gentle and soothing. You chase the sound, the comfort it brings, turning your head in the direction of his voice. The light is still too much for you, peering one eye open to gaze at the concerned face of your boyfriend. He kneels beside your bed, dressed down to a black shirt and loose shorts with his beanie resting on your nightstand.

“Morning,” you rasp, lips pulled into a tired smile.

“Evening,” Ino chuckles, reaching out to tenderly place the back of his hand against your damp forehead. “Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

“How long have you been here?” You speak slowly, trying not to agitate your already raw throat. Ino hums, turning his hand to rest it against your cheek. You lean into his touch, the soft glide of his thumb over your cheekbone nearly soothing you back to sleep.

“Couple hours,” Ino shrugs. “I got us lunch, but you were knocked out pretty good.”

“What time is it?” you ask, turning your head in search of your phone. Ino pulls his hand away to pluck your phone from where it’s hidden beneath his beanie, plugged in to charge.

“Not late enough to worry your pretty little head,” he teases. He doesn’t tell you, but the burnt orange shining through your windows gives you your answer. Guilt settles firmly in the pit of your stomach, not helped by the empathetic smile Ino gives you. Not a hint of anger or disappointment, only concern tinted with sadness.

Somehow, that feels worse.

You turn away, face pressed into the pillow as you give a muffled, “’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing? For being sick?” There’s a pinch to your cheek, playfully scolding. You huff, puffing out your cheeks to push his hand away before shifting to sit up. Ino hovers beside you, ready and waiting if you need him.

“But…I ruined your plans…” you murmur. Fingers worrying at the blankets, you keep your gaze fixed on a loose thread you tear from the soft material.

“Hey—” A gentle grasp on your chin carefully turns your head until you’re face to face with Ino, “—you didn’t ruin anything.”

He leans forward, lightly pressing his forehead to yours.

“But—”

“Nope.” He cuts your words off with a swift kiss to your nose.

“I wasn’t—”

Another kiss. Then a peck to your cheek.

“Ino—”

He moves for your lips, and you swiftly cover his mouth with your palm.

“You’re going to get sick,” you scold him. His response is another kiss immediately followed by his tongue messily sliding up your palm. You shove his face away, smiling through your disgusted scoff as his laughter echoes in your room.

“It’s too late for that, anyway. I took a nap with you earlier.”

“You—what?” Ino’s up and moving before you have time to process that.

He searches through your clothes, casually moving between your closet and dresser. He pauses once, a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks in hand, speaking to you over his shoulder, “You think you can get up?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod. He hums, satisfied, tossing you the socks before moving back to your closet. He fishes through your clothes for a bit longer while you pull the socks on, but gives up his search when you move to sit on the edge of your bed. Ino grins, standing before you with his hands out.

“Up and at ‘em!” he cheers as you set your hands in his and he helps you to your feet. You wobble, but Ino is quick to steady you against his chest. He gives you a minute to adjust to being upright for the first time in hours, placing several kisses on the side of your head.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

“Good,” Ino hums, moving out of your reach to stand behind you. “Now, you trust me, right?”

“Of course,” you answer instantly. Ino pauses for a moment, the stillness only broken when he leaves a long kiss on the side of your neck. He mutters something, and you catch the words perfect and lucky somewhere in there before he clears his throat.

“Cover your eyes for me?”

You do as he says, eyes sliding shut before you cover them with your hands.

One of Ino’s hands rests in the middle of your back, the other on your arm. His radiating warmth sinks into your skin, chasing away the chill of your lingering fever.

“You let me know if you need a break, okay?”

There’s some shuffling behind you as Ino leans forward, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice low, a familiar timbre reserved only for you, you can hear the smirk when he reminds you, “No peeking.”

Ino leads you to your bedroom door, separating from you for a brief moment to hold it open for you. You’re guided down the short hallway from your room to the living room where a delicious, savory scent awaits you accompanied by a subtle rush of warm air and soft music.

“Okay,” Ino breathes, pulling away from you. You can hear his feet shuffling around the room, the clink of metal, and the rustling of…tissue paper? Ino mutters something again, taking a deep, uncharacteristically nervous, breath.

“Open your eyes.”

It’s not often you’re left speechless, but the sight of your living room takes your breath away. The lights are off, replaced by the glowing amber of the electric candles set up around the room. Music plays from Ino’s phone, something delicate and classical at a volume low enough to hear, but not too loud to worsen your headache. Your coffee table is decorated with tiny candles and flowers, plates and silverware set up like a romantic dinner with soup from your favorite restaurant and wine glasses filled with ginger ale.

And at the center of it all stands Ino, holding a gift bag and bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Happy birthday.”

“You planned all this?” you ask, nearly breathless.

“There was some last-minute improvising, but it’s most of what I planned.” Ino ducks his head, bashful as he attempts to avoid your eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

He perks up as you make your way towards him.

“Rea—”

You interrupt him, hands on his cheeks as you pull him in to meet your lips. You don’t pull away, instead peppering thankful kisses from his mouth to each cheek.

“What happened to me getting sick?” Ino laughs, trying to chase your lips and meet you kiss for kiss.

You take a step back, hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. “So you don’t want me to kiss you?”

Ino sets the gift bag down, moving to wrap an arm around your waist with surprising speed. It’s his turn to smother you in affection as he switches between kisses and nuzzling against your cheek. His nose tickles against your face, giggles spilling out of you.

"I didn't say that."

It’s a sweet moment, one you’ll surely treasure for the rest of your life until the laughter catches up with you and the giggles turn to coughing.

Ino guides you to get comfortable at the coffee table, setting your flowers down on the sofa behind you before he settles in next to you.

Dinner is peaceful, content. Ino lets you lean against him, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you slowly get through your soup, telling you stories about his friends, his job, anything that he knows will make you smile. He admits to annoying his mentor, Nanami, with his unreserved excitement for your birthday, and kisses away the niggling guilt that crosses your face.

“We have plenty of time. We can do it all another day,” he says easily.

“Good,” you huff, tucking yourself against his side as he takes a sip from his glass. “I want to wear the outfit you got me.”

Ino sputters and chokes, turning away from you to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ino waves you away, turning further and further every time you lean closer. There’s only so far he can go, and it isn’t hard to catch the blazing red of his cheeks.

Was he flustered over the dress? Why? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bought clothes for you; he’s never been this shy about it before. The only time you can remember seeing him like this was on your fourth date when you walked by a window display that had a pale pink mannequin wearing—

Worry melts into mischief as you practically crawl your way into his lap until he’s forced to face you.

“Did you get me lingerie for my birthday?”

Ino groans, tucking his head so far into the crook of your neck you can’t tell if the heat is coming from your fever or his face.

“You said you liked it in the window.” Ino lifts his head just enough to pout at you. You lean down, setting your forehead to his with a soft, teasing smile.

“We have plenty of time.” You mimic his earlier words, watching the embarrassment ease from his mind as his eyes fall to your lips. Ino leans forward, and you don’t stop him.

“Why wait?” he asks, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. When you don’t object, he inches closer and closer and closer, not quite kissing you but nearly there.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you murmur against his lips.

Ino closes the gap with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of care and affection he has for you into it. You’re sick and sweaty and gross, but the way he kisses you leaves you feeling so wanted, so precious, so loved.

He breaks away only for a second, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“Worth it.”

And when Ino gets sick four days later, you’re right there beside him with warm soup and endless kisses.

[corralinesage]

Portrait of a wounded heart (3/8)

CHAPTER 3 All night long 

The book was mind-numbingly boring, or maybe it was the fact that you, quite frankly, had better things to do, better people to get to know than the ones in the provincial town of Middlemarch. Had Natasha been one of those people, you would have surely binged the book in five seconds total, but unfortunately that was not the case. You skipped paragraphs, skimmed through entire pages, all so that you would get faster to her, the book nearly flying out of your hands the second you finished the last sentence of the first chapter. You dug up your phone, opening a new chat and typing her name in it.

Y: First chapter down :)

You couldn’t believe it, you simply could not believe that you were texting her, texting the woman of your dreams. Oh, you wanted to scream, you wanted to run around your room, or jump up and down on your bed to release some of the exhilarating thrill that you felt, and then you wanted to scream some more when you saw that she had read your message. Your body was buzzing from anticipation as you waited patiently for what she was about to respond to you.

N: Good job! How are you liking it?

It really shouldn’t have had such a huge effect on you, but the sole fact that you were texting her was enough to make you lose your mind. Receiving praise of any kind was bound to make your heart gallop. You refrained from letting out a girly squeal and typed up your response instead after getting over the full-body wave of excitement, letting her know what you thought of the book, although you made sure not to say anything too negative in case it was a favorite book of hers or something of the sort.

N: You better hasten your pace if you want to finish it by morning. You’ve got another 85 chapters and a finale to get through.

Fuck. You stared blankly at the book on your bed, unable to grasp how it was even possible to fit that many chapters into a silly, little book. You knew it was long, but it was slowly starting to dawn on you just how long it was. You felt a wave of despair wash over you. There was no way you were ever going to finish it on time. You felt like crying, you were far too loaded up with intense emotions to be able to regulate yourself, and so, for a moment you just lay on your back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating your options, like any sane person, instead of actually doing something beneficial to accomplish your task. You wasted an unnecessarily long amount of time on everything else that you weren’t supposed to be doing, the uncomfortably intimidating task shadowing you like a whiny ghost that lacked attention. You organized your notes for art history, found yourself a snack from your poorly stocked cupboards, and wiped down your kitchen counters all the while you kept up a conversation with Natasha. Dozen minutes later, or –let’s be honest– maybe even an hour later, you were back to skimming through pages, trying your best to absorb any crucial information that you might have discussed in class the next day. It took you three whole hours to get to chapter 10. God, the book was unnecessarily long. By the time you turned the page to the last one of chapter 10 your eyelids were half-closed. All the characters and places were messed up in your head. You didn’t know who was who, or what was where. There were too many new names, too many relations, too much of everything. You wanted to give up, you really did, you even told Natasha that you were going to fail the assignment, clambering up from your bed as you waited for her to respond to your pathetic whining. You headed for your small kitchen once again, switching your coffee maker on despite the fact that caffeine had lost its kick on you long ago. It would do nothing to keep you awake, but at least you would get an excuse to have a large mug of warm coffee with additional toppings that you chose to hopefully make yourself feel better. You squeezed some caramel sauce on the inside of the mug before adding the steaming coffee on top, you stirred it briefly, hearing a soft ping from your phone. You didn’t even try to resist checking her message, a smile finding your lips at the sight of her name on the screen.

N: You are not giving up, not if I have a say in it.

You felt warm again, your sorrow subsiding for just a moment. You poured some milk into your cup to fill it to the brim, searching for a comforting snack to get you through the hours of reading you had ahead of you, settling for crunchy pretzel bites to ease your hunger. The kitchen flashed with blue light, the soft pitter-patter of rain that sounded from the windowsill soon accompanied by thunder. It was still raining, and it seemed that the storm would only be getting stronger if the harsh wind was anything to go by. The building you lived in was old, wind howling outside, clattering things around. As much as you hated your poor plumbing and fickle heating system, the house did have a few very aesthetic, comforting features that soothed your artistic soul. You returned into your room with a small smile on your face, sipping on the creamy coffee on your way, the scalding drink burning your tongue. You sat back down on your bed, placing your mug on the bedside table before finally responding to her message.

Y: Come on Nat. There’s just no way. I’ve barely read an eighth of the book.

N: Call me.

Y: What?

N: Call me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you the story.

You froze completely, staring at the screen with your jaw hanging on the floor, eyes fixed on the endearment. You glanced at the time, unable to understand what could’ve possibly prompted her to suggest anything of the sort to you at two in the morning. What did she do for a living to not only be up and awake at such an hour but also willing to call someone to talk about English literature? Your finger trembled slightly, heart skipping a beat from nerves as you hovered your thumb over the call-button. Was she being serious, or was she just messing with you? Would you dare to call her? Without giving yourself the chance to hesitate for any longer you dialed her number, squinting your eyes shut as you waited for the telltale ring of the phone to sound. It came only once before you heard her pick up.

“Hi, krasotka.” Her voice was smooth, silky, the words sounding right in your ear, your gut churning with butterflies. You felt breathless, flustered by how intimate the entire situation felt.

“Hi.” You nearly gasped the greeting, somehow unable to believe that she had even picked up the phone. You felt your heartbeat accelerate, your mouth drying up from more than just the salty pretzel snacks. “What are you doing?” You sounded dumber than you had intended to, silently cursing yourself in your head for your awkwardness.

“What am I doing?” She repeated the question as if wishing to tease you a bit.

“Yeah, you know, up at 2 AM, and all that.” You tried to save it by sounding less like you were accusing her of something.

“Well, I’m telling a story to a pretty girl”, she hummed, clearly amused by your shock. You laughed out of nerves, your fingers finding your sheets to fiddle with the fabric. She was going to be the death of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m more than sure. She’s pretty as a picture.” You went completely silent, unable to find a response to her words. She was unabashedly flirting with you.

“N-no, I meant that… that- Are you sure you want to spend your night like this?” It was almost starting to sound like you were the one who didn’t want her to spend her night with you. “Just that I don’t wanna interrupt anything.” You butted in quickly before she had the chance to get the wrong idea.

“Don’t worry, milaya, I have nothing better to do.” It was hard to believe that a woman like her had nothing on her schedule, but you would’ve been lying had you said that you weren’t pleased to know that she was choosing to spend even more time with you that day.

“Well, in that case… Tell me all about Middlemarch. I was just reading about Dorothea getting married to that grandpa”, you said, trying to bite back your smile so she wouldn’t be able to hear it through the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Casaubon. Dorothea was yet another victim of daddy issues”, she said jokingly. “This is gonna be a bit of a ride. I hope you’re taking notes.�� You were in fact not because all you could focus on was how low and velvety her voice was. “So, as you know, Dorothea is very headstrong. She’s religious and thirsty for knowledge. She marries Mr. Casaubon over Sir James in the hopes of broadening her intellectual horizons.” She chuckled softly at herself, her tone insinuating that Dorothea’s dreams might have not come true after all. “The Vincys are another family that the book is centered around. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Vincy, Fred –lazy kid– and Rosamond, who’s the girl that everyone wants. She’s dainty and very ladylike, a girly girl if you will.” At first you found it more than difficult to follow along with what she was saying because a huge part of your attention was stolen away by the sound of her voice. It was rather surprising how much you could learn about a person just by listening to their voice. You could not help getting hung up on little details, noting each little inflection in her tone and style of speech, wishing to memorize the rasp of her voice, the way it sometimes squeaked a little as if breaking from exertion. Sometimes she would chuckle or even laugh, the gorgeous melody sounding right next to your ear as you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with a huge grin on your face. “At this point we already know that Will Ladislaw and Dorothea have chemistry.”

“Wait, who's Ladislaw again? Wasn’t he the doctor they shit-talked?” She laughed again, the gesture somehow coming off as affectionate, your heart soaring at the sound of her beautiful laughter.

“No, honey, Ladislaw is the artist. Mr. Lydgate is the doctor, and he marries Rosamond Vincy”, she reminded you again, her smile audible.

“And will they end up together, Ladislaw and Dorothea?”

“You’ll just have to listen to my story and find out.” You couldn’t help but to grin so widely that your cheeks hurt. There was something about the way she spoke to you, the way she treated you that made your insides melt. She was gentle, but assertive with a hint of playfulness to her. She made you want to hear more, to learn more, so, you listened. You listened and listened, clutching a pillow to your chest as she told you the unfolding of events in her own style, allowing you to state any questions that might have arisen along the way. There was a lot of talk about money and class, marriages and relations, so much so that it was sometimes hard to keep up, especially when more characters were introduced, but she did her best to include small reminders like monikers and titles to help you follow along. “After the fight they have, Mr. Casaubon ends up having a heart attack and later on dies, which is when we learn about his will that says if Dorothea is to marry Will Ladislaw, she is to lose her entire inheritance.”

“No! I wanted them to end up together”, you gasped, nearly bouncing up from the bed.

“I know, me too”, she lamented, a soft sigh sounding from the other end of the line.

“That’s it? She has to choose between going broke or being with the one she loves?”

“Not exactly because as of now, Dorothea doesn’t think of Will that way and she is appalled by her husband’s lack of trust in her”, she explained, continuing on with the story, filling you in on the lives of all the characters involved in the current events of the book, giving you insight on what each of them thought about the situation. You noticed yourself fall into the world of Middlemarch, getting thoroughly invested in the characters that had seemed so plain and boring at first glance. Natasha had a way of describing people and events, she knew how to word things eloquently, the story falling from her lips like she knew it by heart, like she would have been reading an abridged version of it to you. It made you wonder why the book meant so much to her because there was nothing she could say anymore to convince you otherwise. There was a connection between her and the book, something that spoke to her personally, something that created emotional value. You would have wanted to know the story behind her and Middlemarch, but you didn’t dare to disturb her. “They solve the money affairs, and Dorothea offers to pay Lydgate’s debt to Bulstrode. She goes over to the Lydgates to bring the check, but she ends up finding Will Ladislaw there with Rosamond.”

“What? Wha- what- Doing what?” Natasha chuckled at your question and the obvious disbelief in your tone, pleased to know that you weren’t just following along to the story, but you were also entertained by her manner of retelling.

“Holding hands.” You gasped, the sound followed by yet another discreet laugh from her.

“How dare they? Might as well show him her ankles too!” You couldn’t help the wide grin that found your lips when you heard that your comment only prolonged that wonderful, melodic sound of laughter that came from her.

“I know, right? Rather scandalous if you ask me. However, this sends Dorothea into a fit of internalized rage which later on comes out in hours’ worth of crying.”

“Feels a bit dramatic. I mean it’s just hands”, you reasoned quietly, although you had no room to judge, not when you had cried over a stranger you had fallen in love with at first glance. “Couldn’t they have talked it through?”

“I get it”, she hummed, somehow in an even softer tone than before. “Hands are intimate. You do everything with your hands. You connect to the world around you through your hands. You feel, you touch, you leave a mark. I wouldn’t let just anyone hold mine.”

“Oh… when you put it like that. Yeah… yeah.” You both sat in silence for a while, in a comfortable, serene silence that could only be found in the middle of the night before she spoke again.

“If I saw the very hands that were meant to touch me, hold me, love me, in someone else’s…” She didn’t finish the sentence, failing to find words adequate enough to describe the feeling. “I don’t blame Dorothea in the slightest.” You thought about her hands, recalling the way she had held yours when she had smelled your wrist. Her touch had been gentle, delicate, so intimate especially when you looked back on the memory with the new information you had just acquired. You could tell she felt deeply. She was soulful, someone who understood sentiment, someone who perhaps saw more than others. “There were two living forms that tore her heart in two.” Her tone shifted, turning more formal. “As if it had been the heart of a mother who seems to see her child divided by the sword.” You realized that she was reciting the book, reading a passage to you, or maybe even voicing it from memory. “And presses one bleeding half to her breast while her gaze goes forth in agony towards the half which is carried away by the lying woman that has never known the mother’s pang.” The line went silent again for just a moment. “That’s how she describes it.” You didn’t know how to respond, the heaviness of her words taking up all the space in your cozy bedroom as you went over the passage in your head. You would have to actually read the book after your assignment was over so that you could give it the time and energy it needed –required.

“That’s beautiful”, you whispered after a while, feeling in awe of the sense of vulnerability that she had created. “Kind of gut-wrenching”, you admitted softly, hearing her hum in agreement.

“It’s a good book. Hopefully you’ll get the chance to actually read it sometime.” She was moving at the other end of the line, quiet rustling sounding through the phone.

“I will. I’ll make sure to read each and every word.” You wanted to promise it to her, you wanted her to know how much you valued not only the book but also her willingness to share her thoughts on it with you. “It’s a shame you have to spoil it for me.” She chuckled.

“A shame indeed. Do you have an assignment due tomorrow?” She asked.

“Oh no, tomorrow is class discussion and then I’ll have to write a small essay on a topic of choice”, you explained, hiding your yawn by moving the phone away from you as you rubbed your eye, your blurry vision making you feel like you were going partially blind from how tired you were.

“Well, in that case, I’d say you’re doing okay so far.” You huffed softly at her comment.

“I just wish I had more time, but I have three other assignments due next week, so this one will most likely end up being generic crap that the professor has heard a thousand times before.” It was not typical of you to feel bad about poorly done assignments, but the Middlemarch assignment had suddenly acquired a whole new meaning to it. You had someone much more important to impress with your work. You wanted Natasha to know that you were good at what you did. You wanted her approval more than you wanted your professor’s. You wanted to discuss the book with her, you wanted her to think that you had good opinions, that you were smart.

“Are you free tomorrow?” You struggled to process her words in your tired brain, trying to recall your schedule for the following day.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Come to the library after your lecture. We can write the assignment together. I’ll bring coffee.” You paused completely. Had she dived into your brain and dug through your daydreams? There was no way she didn’t know all the stupid fantasies you had of her. It couldn’t just be coincidence, but how could she possibly know when the only person aware of the things you dreamed of was you?

“My lecture is pretty early though. It ends at 11:45. If you have work or something…” You wanted to know what she did with her time, if she had a career of some sorts, but to your dismay she hadn’t said a word about any possible profession or studies. She was still a huge mystery to you.

“I’ll be there. How do you want your coffee?”

“Hmm, surprise me.” You smirked a bit groggily, adjusting your position to get more comfortable, the phone screen that was pressed to your cheek burning up from the length of the call. You were sure your battery wasn’t far from running out. “So how does the story end?”

And so, she continued spoiling the ending for you, finishing her retelling with a happy and satisfactory ending, at least in your opinion. You yawned quietly, nuzzling into your sheets, so comforted by the warmth they provided you, her soothing voice right by your ear, your eyes shutting on their own, the large mug of coffee you had consumed hours ago doing nothing to keep you awake. The world went quiet, silent, even the little sounds of the early morning, the pitter-patter of rain, the wind, the creaking of the old house, fading into oblivion as sleep took you, swallowing you whole into the dark abyss of dreamland.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, but you didn’t budge. “Y/N?” She tried again but heard no response. She waited for a moment longer, an affectionate smile playing on her lips as she listened to your even breathing. “Good night, krasotka”, she whispered eventually when no answer came, ending the call right before the clock had the chance to strike six in the morning.

A/N: I just posted another chapter of my smut collection that is a sequel to this story on my ao3!

[chaztalk]

Yes, yes I know this is hella long, so just scroll to the bottom if necessary

TLDR: I’m a Romione shipper and here’s why I don’t like Hermione

I can understand the criticisms of Hermione’s character, but this is more like “I don’t like what the particular things Hermione did” rather than actually analyzing her character. Also that last sentence in the first paragraph, you could really say about any of the Golden Trio, receiving very few consequences and actually learning from them.

Cuz the actual truth behind JKR’s writing of Hermione is a product of being JKR’s self-insert and even though, she is a main character in the series, the author doesn’t necessarily care about her because we know next to nothing about her life as a muggle, her parents, and her personality outside of magic.

And OP stated that Hermione doesn’t face consequences in the series, but that, however, is not entirely true. She turned into a half-cat after not being cautious enough/making sure that she used a human hair instead of a cat hair. She was given the silent treatment until she apologized about her cat. In OOTP, at the DoM, she was hit by a dangerous curse because she was distracted by doing a celebration mid-battle. And in HBP, she was allegedly sexually assaulted if she didn’t run away from him.

So now let’s break this analysis down:

PS- they name none of her strengths, only her “flaws”. I don’t understand how being a rule follower is really a flaw. And her. Close-mindedness comes actually later in the series (opinions about centaurs and Divination). She froze under pressure once. Being socially awkward for 11/12 year old isn’t really out of the ordinary and doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a sign of a complex character.

CoS- Hermione’s 12-13 years old. It’s normal to develop a crush on someone, regardless on who the actually person they have a crush on are.

The one positive most people give Hermione is that she’s book smart. So I don’t understand how it’s hard to believe Hermione was able to brew polyjuice potion when you just have to read the steps to make it.

And even though, she figured out the mystery, she didn’t win a thing unlike Harry and Ron.

“Ron’s influence is working”. What? How come they never elaborate on things like this?

PoA- I also don’t understand the claim that most people would side with Hermione in the Crookshanks/Scabbers fiasco. Harmione shippers and Hermione stans are in the minority here.

GoF- Now this is just someone pissed off that someone else was interested in Hermione and Hermione decided to go with him instead of Ron

A character flaw in Krum? He can’t hold a conversation with a girl.

OOTP- Hermione’s “snipy” towards Ron because he’s a terrible prefect that gets easily walked all over by his twin brothers who are the biggest rule breakers (and possibly because she wanted Harry to be prefects with her instead of Ron 😃)

HBP- or how about feeling empathy for both instead of one over the other. Like this: “I understand why Hermione attacked Ron because it was one of the times her emotions controlled her. But that’s no excuse for the attack when Ron is kissing another girl when they aren’t together”. Not hard. And it’s why Ron and Hermione are incompatible imo.

DH- she does 90% of the preparations for the hunt because Mrs Weasley made it hard for the Trio to work together. And Hermione is no doubt the brains of the group.

“She rescues them from the ministry”. And Splinched Ron in the process, no? So, wouldn’t really say she’s perfect under pressure.

The most crucial one is Hermione staying with Harry and Ron leaving. What do you want her to do? Also leave? She’s a muggleborn, and muggles are being murdered left and right by DEs.

In conclusion, Hermione doesn’t have an arc. An arc to me is an obstacle a character has that builds character development in them. No Harry Potter character has that kind of arc.

I’ll be waiting for the “Ron’s a disappointing character” analysis post, with it just being complaints about how the “narrative” hates Ron lol

[deadgirldreaming]

This impressively in character letter from Alastor to Vox just after they fell out but before Alastor left to grab a carton of milk for 7 years was written by @official-alastor.

Well worth the money!

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

My dear Vox,

Forgive me for resorting to a more “dated” means of communication as you put it, but I’d prefer to say this from a distance. Why, you ask? Well, the truth of the matter is that I simply cannot stand your presence any longer. Your voice is grating, and I wanted to get this done as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could without having to resort to your obnoxiousness in person.

You may have guessed from my introductory paragraph what the contents of this letter will be, but let me spell it out for you. You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. And, quite frankly, my patience with you has reached its limit. I’m done, Vox. I can’t take it anymore. Just like you can’t take no for an answer.

Your incessant pestering and clinginess has made it impossible for me to be around you. Constantly pushing your affections on me and attempting to pressure me into returning them is tactless and disrespectful. I am many things and a gentleman is certainly one of them. The same, however, cannot be said for you. As the youth of today are so fond of saying, no means no, Vox.

I do not want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. And you have only yourself to blame for what’s happening now. I have told you time and time again that I am completely uninterested in romance along with the more physical aspects of it. On enough occasions that even Valentino remembers and understands. Valentino! But not you. No, Vox, not you at all.

You asked me if I wanted to join you. Clearly, my answer is no. The sad part is that at one point, I would have said yes, Vox. But years of your grating behavior and unwanted advances have successfully managed to change my mind. You just don’t know how to handle rejection, and it’s one of your biggest flaws (of which you have many). I wish I could say that I’m sorry for this, but I’d be lying if I did.

In the end, Vox, I’m not sorry at all. I’m relieved. Relieved that I’ll finally be free of you. Thrilled that I’m finally putting you in your place. I waited far too long to do this. It’s certainly well overdue. It feels wonderful to finally do what I’ve wanted to do for ages now. Does it hurt your feelings? Does it break your heart? Good. Suffer. As I have had to suffer enduring your presence in my afterlife for the last several decades.

Harsh, you say? That would be the point. I can think of no other way to make certain that you fully grasp what it is that I’m trying to convey here. You went too far with me, Vox. And now you reap the rewards of your efforts. Losing me entirely. The fault lies solely with yourself, as I stated before. Read that sentence again and remember it well. You alone have driven me to this. You alone have pushed and pushed until you pushed me too far. Now I’m done, and you’re going to have to learn how to live without me if you even can.

The final straw was our fight. You know the one to which I refer. I almost beat you. Almost had you right where I wanted you. You may have gotten the upper hand in that encounter, but as they say, you won the battle but have lost the war. Your biggest mistake was thinking that you could ever own me. I’ve never been yours to possess and never will be. Ever. In the end, I win, Vox. It’s as simple as that. Failure and defeat have never been an option for me as you well know. Though I know you’re quite familiar with both as you should be.

I’ll finish this with one last statement that I hope you’ll remember along with the other contents of this letter: thank you for wasting my time. Let’s never do it again.

Alastor

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

Did you enjoy reading this letter from Alastor to Vox? You can get your own letter from Alastor too!

@official-alastor is currently providing a service where you can buy letters or messages from Alastor to you or any character in the Hellverse.

I personally am considering buying one for either Lucifer or Adam next. Maybe a letter to Sir Pentious, it could be quite funny!

🌟 Here are the prices and payment details! 🌟

🔷️ One character letter up to 500 words - $5

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Any questions just ask @official-alastor !

[jungkoode]

tell me ur dropping the january night sooon plsss kiki I AM DYING for more FMU here uhhskdkkkfklfldldldl

TOMORROW. IT’S HAPPENING.

I have edited. I have suffered. I have reread this one-shot prequel thingy seven times to fix consistency, coherence, and repetition, and at this point??? I don’t even know if I’ve repeated a sentence three paragraphs before or if I just know the sentence by heart now and my brain is gaslighting me. I am one step away from color-coding my entire draft like a conspiracy theorist to track sentence structures.

BUT IT’S READY.

And ohhhhhh, it’s filthy.

Like, easily the dirtiest FMU thing yet. I was editing and had to pause multiple times like did I really write this? Did I actually make him say that? And unfortunately, yes. Yes, I did. Jungkook’s mouth in this one????? UNSPEAKABLE. The DIRTY TALK is on another level. He is so in cocky, so confident, so absolutely unfair that I had to step away from my laptop just to process it.

I feel like this is the chapter that defines him. That nails that FMU Jungkook flavor—the teasing, the dominance, the way he knows exactly what to say and exactly how to say it. And their banter, their dynamic for the future.

Also?? I want to push out a narrative audio / text-to-speech version with it because FMU deserves drama, but that depends on if I can pull myself together long enough to make that happen without spiraling into a “wait should I tweak this one scene again” crisis.

BUT THE CHAPTER ITSELF??? TOMORROW. PREPARE YOURSELVES. I AM UNLEASHING HIM.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

:((( I am sending many hugs, and on that note - how about hold/held for the wip guessing game? ❤️‍🩹

Thank YOU, my love!! 💛 I see you've been sharing some decent chunks of the collaborative ghostcat Howl's Moving Castle AU and I am about to dive headfirst into that temptation myself with one of my sections bc godddd it's SUCH a good AU I can't wait for everyone to read it!!

It was when he saw four more monstrous shapes bulge and bubble into life ahead of them that his panic truly set in. “It’s a dead end!” The stranger chuckled. He shored up his hold on Edwin’s elbow; and took his opposing hand for good measure, a brazen, self-possessed grip, as if he was about to sweep him up in a relaxed promenade. “Who ever said the only way out is through? Hold on.” And then he coiled and he sprang, and Edwin yelped as the leap carried the both of them quickly, effortlessly, impossibly over the rooftops.  Edwin felt his heart drop through his feet with a sickening lurch, then smack back against his ribs like a slingshot. He also felt, distantly, the grapple of a mycelial hand at his ankle, but he was carried quickly out of reach of its gnarled, rubbery fingers. It was rather hard to focus on the brief, unpleasant sensation when it felt like he’d left his entire skeleton about fifty feet below. “What on earth —!” he exclaimed, clinging to the only thing within reach — which just so happened to be the stranger’s bracing hand under his. “Don’t panic,” came the stranger’s cool, steady voice in his ear; loud and clear, despite being nary a whisper over the rushing wind. “Just walk with me.”

Send me a word and I'll reply with a sentence/paragraph/section from my WIPs that contains it! ^_^

[tavyliasin]

2024 Writing Retrospect

Tagged by @jellymellydraws so I'll give it a go!

What's been your biggest learning point this past year? There are very few things I can't/won't write if I put my mind to it, I just need to find the right angle - I've found a lot of joy in writing crackships, one shots, and rare pairings. I do adore my longer stories, but digging in to new dynamics never fails to be exciting and I'd like to lean on that some more~

How has your writing developed this past year? I think I'm a lot more confident in writing, particularly kink, and I'm easing my way out of some bad habits like sentences that are far too long or being too vague when my mind wants to skip through the most exciting parts~

Bad writing habits? Hmmm I'm going to have to throw in getting distracted, not finishing WIPs, and definitely the impatience to post. I know works are better with a beta read, but that means waiting and editing and re-reading instead of just slamming it down, throwing the links into every corner of the internet, and running away in fear and horror that nobody wants what I just put out. Ah, there's another bad habit - the lack of confidence in finished works. I don't like looking at my stats, but I cherish every single individual comment and kudos like my entire creative career depends on it.

Favorite thing you wrote? Gods that's a tough one. I adore all of my works, and I wrote so much this year. It might be between the Raphael/Haarlep prequel pieces, and possibly Emperor x Volo "A Legend, Alive" which was a real experiment when I started it and it just developed so much depth and feeling as I took it entirely seriously~

Biggest win? Getting over 500k words published on AO3, over 100 works, and also finishing the 24 chapter speedwritten epic that was the Volo Kinkmas Challenge. Most of which barely a dozen people have even opened judging by the hit counts, but I shouldn't expect people to actively want to read 24 chapters of Volo smut without me begging them and yelling "hear me out, it's actually really good" about a thousand times a minute. (Seriously though I am proud of finishing it and I think I did a damn good job too, allowing myself that pride)

Goals for the new year? Write. The. Original. Novel. I did barely anything on it last year... I would also like to finish all 3 of my longfics, they've been going on too long without concluding, then I'll feel more free in starting new things or indulging in silly premise one shots~

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times? "As". You can pry "as" from my cold dead hands, I need it, it works, I will use it plenty~ Otherwise I really just keep checking word repetition constantly. If I'm going over a piece and worry I've said a word too many times I will do a quick ctrl+F to highlight uses and see if I'm good or not. I prefer several paragraphs before a word repeats and open my thesaurus tab often~

What are you excited for in the new year? Creative events, finishing the other Zine pieces I've signed up for, and the release of Fan Zines I've been a part of - really excited to share those pieces with you all when they are released~

Tagging in - with no pressure, only if you'd like to - @morb-untamed @laserlope @khapikat222 @ineadhyn @redroomroaving

[faededaway]

Nanami x reader (sfw)

[office setting, he's your senior]

Nanami has been hard on you. Always. You're not sure what brought it on. Maybe he found you unqualified for your position. There's no other reason why he's always breathing down your neck about deadlines and critiquing every submission.

"Ehem."

You brace yourself before turning around in your cubicle to great your senior, Nanami Kento, who drops your previous submission on your table and looks down on you.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I improve this report?", you get straight to the point like you know he wants you to.

"Once again, this isn't a report for your university. Stop adding paragraphs of explanations. Stick to numbers and charts", he sighs and leaves without waiting for a reply.

Embarrassing. Maybe I am unqualified.

His tone was never mean. If anyone else said it, anyone else like Shoko, you'd assume they were only trying to help or maybe save themselves from having to read more.

But Nanami, Nanamin. Is a stoic man. Very neutral. You fill in the blanks everywhere and now you assume he's tired of you.

So you work till your hands drop to improve the reports exactly like he asked you to.

When you're done with your work, you run over to his office to show him there's at least one thing you can do well. Take his advice to the heart.

Knock knock

He looks up from his screen, “come in.”

Once you go in, you place the reports on the right side of his desk, “sir, I have done as you asked.”

He immediately clicks his tongue at that, freezing your entire body.

Huh. Maybe he feels like he's doing double the work-

“I didn't mean- Don't, don't redo them because I gave you a criticism. Could've just followed it next time”, he sighs and looks at you.

Huh. Oh. He meant it like that ... How would I know?

“Sorry, sir. I-”

“Nanamin is fine.”

“Nanamin?”

“.........Nanami.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Nanami, I'll take your advice- Er, I understand now. Okay.” you wave your hands and turn around to leave because damn. I really did put words in his mouth.

“Did you have lunch?”, Nanamin stops you.

“Uh, no”, uh yes, like 4 hours ago but is he about to offer me something?

“Do you like pastries?”, Nanami stands up from his desk and packs his things.

“I do, actually. Savory and sweet. The one near the office is- ”

“-is amazing.” he completes your sentence.

“As... I was unclear with my instructions, let me treat you to,” he looks at his watch,“to dinner.”

You flip through a few answers that may be appropriate here. Anything like, 'oh, no it was my fault' to 'you don't have to, I'm sure you're tired'.

But Nanamin has never spoken to you about anything but work before. And now, you're having a conversation, kinda. You're also going to the amazing bakery. His amazing bakery.

“Of course. I will get my stuff.”

[subzeroparade]

How much do you write in one sitting? How much of it stays, how much of an effort do you have to make it pretty? Does it comes naturally? I've never been able to write up until very recently and I find myself constantly baffled by what I am able to write, but it takes such a conscious effort not to make it garbage, and I never know how much of it is palatable and not just idiotically purple for no reason. Do you deal with those thoughts? I'm asking because I admire how you write, just, so much.

Hi anon, I have no idea if this post on my own writing process helped you - I hope it did - but please do not doubt that it takes such a conscious effort not to make it garbage is a universal truth, and I get it. Writing is a craft, same as all creative arts. Anyone can dabble in it - and should, it’s part of being human - but honing your skill requires conscious (and sometimes frustrating) effort. To answer your questions:

How much do you write in one sitting?

Depends on the deadline I’ve given myself. I can plan to sit down for some light edits and churn up a few thousand words, but also vice-versa. I might say fuck it and cull half those words after, because they’re weak enough to be edited out entirely. I might write a poor excuse for a paragraph one day, but tease a whole, worthwhile scene from it the next. So: it depends. Quality over quantity. After furiously writing and editing, I recommend going away for a while - like, a week. When you come back you’ll find your perspective on what does and doesn’t hold up has probably changed. 

How much of it stays, how much of an effort do you have to make it pretty? Does it come naturally?

See above. Also I assume by pretty you mean good, compelling, readable. Rarely anything from the first draft is exactly intact when I publish - much of it has been reworked. Occasionally I have a moment of epiphany, so a sentence written in Draft 1 remains unchanged - because it does everything it needs to do - but they are few and far between, and I can pick them out for you myself from memory. One of the greatest lessons I learned (ironically from a fine arts prof but it 100% applies to writing) is that nothing in your first pass is too precious to destroy and redo, so don’t get attached.  As for whether it comes naturally, I think two things come naturally: 1) the desire to write (you are compelled to, or not, that's all. unfortunately the discipline to sit down and do it does not come naturally - for me, anyway). 2) the particular cadence of your voice, and so certain particularities in your prose. People who've heard me speak irl know that I have cadence and speech patterns that tend to match my writing. It's hard to undo that, so it's something to think about leaning into, and working to your benefit.

Do you deal with these thoughts (the question of how much is palatable and not just idiotically purple for no reason).

I did and still do, though less. I’d also argue that these thoughts, if channelled in a constructively critical way, are extremely useful. You should be asking yourself Is this good? Have I considered turning left instead of right at this plot point, and what would that mean for the story? Do I really need this turn of phrase? If I read this out loud does it transmit meaning, or does it sound like senseless decorative blather? You should have a roster of these questions ready (again, if your aim is to take a fine-tooth comb to your work and get better). I still cringe at shit I’ve written recently and think about paring down where I can, or rephrasing until it makes the impact I want it to. 

The best way to get perspective on this is to (wait for it) read. Read a lot. Read stuff that is beyond you, outside your preferred genre, both contemporary and not. Variety - consuming a vast amount of good work - is how you hone your critical eye. If you want to get better, look for things that will challenge you, and by extension inspire you. You don’t necessarily have to read only prize-winners or peruse literary mags for recs (though full disclosure, that’s what I do) but you might want to consider the roster of authors you turn to when you need to make stylistic adjustments, or are simply starved for inspo. For example: if I’m finding my output a little too monotonous, I will pick up someone hypnotic like Joyce Carol Oates, or baroque as Angela Carter. If my voice is getting a little “idiotically purple” - which it can - and I just need to fucking describe something and calm down, then it’s Hemingway (I hate him but he's really useful, sorry), or someone contemporary like Mark Haddon. What these authors have in common is they’ve all written something that feels like it has blown the back of my head out (wow sorry again that follows a Hemingway reference), and that’s the high I am always chasing when I am reading, be it for study or pleasure, because I want to hurt/love my own reader in that same way.   

Tldr; it takes work, it can be frustrating, but don’t stop. Don’t doubt yourself but do question your work, vigorously; have at it with the pleasure of knowing it can always be better, and it will be. Hope this helps :’)

[drabblesandsnippets]

December Daze Challenge 2024

Well, I actually did it! I wrote every single day of December, completing my December Daze advent calendar with 31 drabbles for various versions of Bucky.

(I'll be organizing the Imagines... Masterlist soon to make it easier to find specific ones.)

First, I have to say thank you so much to @the-slumberparty for creating this event! I had so much fun, and I cannot wait to finally get a chance to read some of the other creations 😂

I also wanted to share some thoughts now that I'm officially done:

This was HARD, but extremely satisfying because I had no idea if I was actually going to be able to do it - I also didn't know what I was going to write until I sat down, and sometimes it changed halfway through (or even after I wrote an entire drabble)

I quickly learned that the fastest way to write was literally just to start typing a stream of consciousness, and usually it'd begin with "this feels like the hardest prompt, I don't even know where to start" (the prompts were so good! I just doubt my ability lol) and then 30 minutes later I'd be in the zone

Knowing they'd be under 500 words, I would try to edit as I was writing - yeah, don't do that (note to self)

I realized that I'm still trying to find my voice and my fics tend to oscillate between either using a lot of really flowery words with lots of commas, or trying to write smaller sentences to get the point across to keep the story flowing

I easily fall into patterns when I'm writing, especially my paragraph spacing and I'm trying to find my way out of that lol

I'm really interested in exploring more darker storylines, like stalker Bucky or possessive Bucky

I might also try a bit more angsty stuff, but it'll probably always have a happy ending (I can't help it!)

I ALMOST wrote a Stucky x reader drabble but chickened out at the last minute - might try it eventually 🤷‍♀️

I DID write a weird little drabble about Bodyguard Bucky but scrapped it when I realized it couldn't be condensed to 500 words (might share it as a snippet if anyone is interested)

I will likely never attempt a daily challenge ever again lol I can't wait to get back to interacting more and reblogging things! I have absolutely no regrets though 🩶

Thank you to everyone who supported me during this challenge, I could not have finished it without knowing people were looking forward to these - and @rositxespinosa I can't wait to find out which ones you might want turned into a longer fic (no pressure)!

Happy New Year y'all!!