#and i’m not trying to fit a square peg into a round hole!! but things like these are fun to think about

[sevenines]

the framing of gems-as-robots is one of my favorites. the role of biologist and engineer are the same! gems directly interface with their technology!! they glitch when hurt and have circuitry as veins!!! the are born, programmed, with a purpose!!! they call other life organics—they are not!!!!! white diamond is the equivalent of the tetris ai that paused to avoid losing at all costs, hiding herself away in her head as to never be wrong about pink-rose-steven and the nature of gemkind!!!!!!

[delta-piscium]

(regarding your tags about scenes in your wips) I have a specific file just for cut scenes or dialogue bits!!! I used a scene that I really liked, but literally had zero plot for, in another fic like a month later. Better to get it out of your brain and it's time to shine will come 💛💛💛

(about my tags here)

oh yeah I have something similar, just a whole doc with so much miscellaneous stuff but I always get so impatient and don’t want to move stuff there even when they clearly don’t fit what I wrote them for, but you’re so right, it’s better to save it for when it’s actually useful then to force it because you like it, thank you <3

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: Escapades

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: everyone’s favorite grid family takes on their biggest challenge yet … an escape room

Series Masterlist

“Alright, who thought it would be a good idea to lock a bunch of F1 drivers in a room and expect them to work together to get out?” Charles grumbles, eyeing the cryptic clues scattered around the dimly lit space.

George smirks, picking up a coded message. “Well you’ve had plenty of practice trying to decipher Ferrari’s strategy lately, so maybe you’ve got an advantage here?”

The room erupts in laughter as Charles feigns a wounded expression. “Low blow, George! Do I not suffer enough already?”

Lando, fidgeting with what looks like an ancient artifact, suddenly blurts out, “Do you think this is like a button or something?” Before anyone can respond, there’s an audible snap and the artifact falls apart in his hands.

“Seriously, Lando?” Max exclaims, shaking his head in amusement. “First my trophy, now this? Hands off everything, please!”

You chuckle, patting Lando’s back consolingly. “It’s alright. Maybe breaking things is part of the puzzle?”

Lance, busy trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, adds, “At this rate, we’re never getting out of here.”

Mick, focusing on a puzzle piece, comments, “We’ve only got an hour, guys. Let’s get serious.”

Sebastian begins delegating. “Alright, George and Max, you handle the codes. Mick, Charles, focus on the physical puzzles. Lance, Lando — just ... try not to break anything else.”

As the room buzzes with activity, you can’t help but think that this is one of the best ideas you’ve had in a while. It’s hilarious watching these fiercely competitive drivers work together in a situation that doesn’t involve cars and tracks.

After a series of (mostly) successful problem-solving attempts, a loud buzzer sounds, indicating you’re out of time. The doors swing open, revealing a grinning staff member.

“You were only one clue away!” she exclaims, clapping. “Not bad for a first attempt!”

Max looks around the room, a smirk forming. “Well, if Lando didn’t break that artifact, maybe we would’ve made it.”

Lando throws his hands up defensively. “Hey! I added character to the room.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, making their way out. Another day, another adventure — this one off the track.

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sebastian mutters, amusement evident in his eyes, as he steps into the living room. There are strings hanging from the ceiling, makeshift locks on the furniture, and “cryptic” clues pinned everywhere, like Look UNDER the couch, accompanied by a not-so-subtle arrow pointing downwards.

You, equally surprised and amused, chuckle. “What in the world happened here?”

Charles steps forward, barely containing his laughter. “Welcome to the Grand Prix Escape Room! Guaranteed to be at least 90% more escape-able than the one we failed at.”

George adds, pointing to a padlocked fridge, “I did the food clues. Trust me, they’re the most challenging.”

Max chimes in, “And Lando ... well, we didn’t let him touch anything breakable this time.”

Lando mock-pouts, “One little accident and suddenly I’m the family menace.”

Lance hands you a paper that reads The KEY to success is WHERE you eat BREAKFAST. He grins, “That’s my contribution. Top tier clue, right?”

Mick has a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I suggest you look in very obvious places. We wouldn’t want this to be too hard.”

As you and Sebastian navigate through the hilariously straightforward challenges — like the “hidden” key taped directly next to the padlocked fridge or the note on the oven saying THIS IS NOT A CLUE, just wanted to remind you we have pie — it becomes clear that this isn’t about the challenge at all.

It’s about laughter, family, and the simple joy of being together.

After an entertaining fifteen minutes, which involves Sebastian dramatically pretending to struggle with a code that's simply “1234,” you successfully escape.

Mick raises a toast with room temperature champagne (they forgot to place it in the fridge before it was padlocked), “To the greatest escape artists in the world!”

You laugh, “And to the best, most creative grid kids in the universe!”

***

You wake up to the soft chimes of your alarm, stretching lazily before noticing an envelope on your bedside table. Scrawled on it in mismatched rainbow crayons is Mission: Breakfast Heist.

Opening the note, you read:

Dear Y/N and Seb,

Your breakfast has been stolen! To get it back, follow the clues and embark on a thrilling adventure. Also, no cheating by ordering takeout!

The Breakfast Bandits (aka your grid kids)

Amused, you head downstairs, following a trail of strategically placed toast crumbs. In the kitchen, you find another note taped to the coffee machine: To get your morning brew, tell us a joke that’s new!

Sebastian, rubbing sleep from his eyes, joins you and declares, “Why did the coffee file a police report? It got mugged!” Mick appears from behind you, making both of you jump, and hands you two cups of coffee before backing away silently.

Chuckling, you move on to find that on the fridge, instead of a padlock, there’s a touchpad with a question on its digital display: What’s hot yet cool at the same time?

You ponder it for a moment, thinking of all the possible answers. Sebastian, catching on to the playful challenge set by the grid kids, smirks and says, “It’s the Iceman, isn’t it?”

You both laugh, with you playfully nudging Sebastian, “I always knew you thought Kimi was hot.”

Entering K-I-M-I on the touchpad, the fridge beeps in agreement and swings open, revealing a lavish breakfast spread and a note that reads: Breakfast is served! We might have kept it under lock and key but only to make it special. Enjoy!

From the doorway, the “Breakfast Bandits” applaud, their faces beaming with mischief.

Lance grins, “Took you long enough! And Seb, never knew you had a thing for Kimi.”

Charles joins in the teasing, “Seems like there are still some secrets in the paddock!”

Sebastian playfully rolls his eyes, “At least my secret doesn’t involve singing into a hairbrush every night before bed.”

Charles blushes as the room bursts into laughter. “Who told you about that?” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Lando, who’s trying hard (and failing miserably) to stifle his giggles.

Lando attempts to defend himself through his laughter, “It wasn’t me! But if we’re confessing, who knew that Seb’s haircare routine involved more products than all of ours combined?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Gotta keep the locks looking good, don’t I?”

Max interjects, “Well, if we’re on the topic of secrets, who wants to bet on how many stuffed animals Lando has on his bed?”

Lando gasps dramatically, “Betrayed by my own brothers! Next time, I’m hiding them all in George’s room!”

[hey-august]

“Fuck until you’re making love” is such a good line it has me in such a chokehold because uuuugh I can go for that right now.

Doing the dirty for so long it goes from “Energetic and flashy fuck sesh.” To “Surprisingly honest and vulnerable cuddlefucking while you hold onto each other like a lifeline.”

Ngl I can see Buggy realizing “Fuck. I’m in love.” In a situation like this with a “fuckbuddy” of his. Mid sex, no warning, just a moment where it doesn’t feel like he’s in this because he wants a nice, sexy shag or is chasing an orgasm, just that moment where he changes positions a bit and things slow down and both of your foreheads touch as you both catch your breath for a second and he just thinks.

“This is nice. This is so nice….

This is love

….Oh FUCK.”

I am SO glad that line spoke to you! I love it too.

wc: ~250

Just thinking about a frantic fuck-fest that changes bit by bit. Muscles getting overworked and chests running out of air, but there's still that hunger - that insatiable desire. So you keep reaching for each other. Pulling each other closer and closer, but it's not close enough.

Not until you realize why. It doesn't feel like enough because it's like you're trying to put a round peg in the square hole. It might fit, but it's not…right.

And everything falls into place when that one thought clicks.

For Buggy, he thought he just needed to keep screwing you. That it was a normal hunger and he just needed to devour you again and again. But suddenly - too suddenly for himself - he realizes that's not what he needed. Or wanted.

Buggy wanted to savor you. He wanted your pleasure, not his. He wanted to feel you, not just feel good. He wanted you. Not just to screw you.

He…must be ill. He must be getting sick.

Love sick, argued the voice in his head. The one that was tired of Buggy ignoring the obvious.

Ignoring how you were trying so hard to keep your eyes open so you could watch him. Ignoring how you held his face in your hands. How you pulled him in for a kiss so tender and sweet that he stopped thrusting so he could enjoy the taste.

Fuck.

If this is what love is, it's not so bad.

[gold-rhine]

ok as i said repeatedly, my biggest problem with Inazuma rewrite is that I can’t figure out how to make Signora death be good or at least make sense, but I’m realizing its useless to try fitting square peg into a round hole when the perfect option for it already exists. Signora has nothing to do with Inazuma, thematically, narratively or in any sense. She just should not be here at all.

If we have to to write Signora’s death, it should OBVIOUSLY be in Venti’s second story quest set in Mare Jivari, a place referenced in venti’s first quest, “sea of ashes where the wind does not blow.”

she became crimson witch bc she lost loved ones in cataclysm, was angry and disappointed in barbatos for not protecting Mond and those she became powerful enough to do it herself, at the cost of becoming a monster. Before fatui recruited her, she was hunting down demons and never hurt innocents, despite ppl being afraid and ungrateful to her. her first appearance in the game is confrontation with venti. this is her theme.

traveler and venti should be in here with some mond expedition or whatever, diluc should also be there due to Crimson Witch Parallels and also bc there is apparently a phoenix in Mare Jivari and thats thematic for them both. mb signora and venti both trying to get phoenix, idk whats the plot is, the important thing is that signora and venti are confronting each other again and hurling insults, mb there is a boss fight with her

but later like corrupted beasts or whatever attack mond expedition and signora is at first gleeful, she laughs when venti and co are fighting, but then like Uber Lava Dragon or smth shows up and beats venti up and its clear that it will destroy the expedition if not stopped. and there are just normal simple mond ppl there, terrified. and on paper all signora has to do is just let this happen, have her revenge on barbatos, achieve her goal, win and leave

but! she became crimson witch precisely bc of the situation like this! deep down, underneath it all, she is not just a fatui agent, she is a woman who wanted to protect mond when its god failed to do that. so she curses, yells about useless vermin god and steps up to fight the beast.

she defeats him, but is mortally wounded. as she’s dying, venti comes up to her. souls of people who die in Mare Jivari are trapped, because this is the place where the wind does not blow. but today there is a single breeze here.

i never asked for your forgiveness, signora says to venti proudly as he starts glowing with the divine light

i know, he smiles, you don’t need to.

he takes her soul as she dies like he did with stanley’s in his 1st quest, bc barbatos was never a warrior god, he was a bard, an inspiration for ppl to rise up and fight for themselves and then a storyteller to keep the memories of these fighters. and today a story of another protector has joined the fold.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

15 Lines Tag Game

tagged by: @carlosoliveiraa @clicheantagonist @inafieldofdaisies @adelaidedrubman @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @direwombat @aceghosts @sofrosine @nightbloodbix @kyber-infinitygems @corvosattano @voidika @roofgeese @thesingularityseries (thank you all so much!!)

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

(i failed to follow the rules and did 17 each, i'm indecisive)

tagging: @dickytwister @amalkavian @transcaster @shellibisshe @unholymilf @thedeadthree @confidentandgood @strafethesesinners @harmonyowl @florbelles @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @marivenah @finding-comfort-in-rain @strangefable @efingart (no pressure of course, I'm late to this, sorry for any double tags)

“When you've seen the things I've seen, a little pig sticker cutting through a few layers of flesh doesn't mean much.”

“Blood on my hands or not, I don’t need to be saved. Not by you or anyone else.”

“I’ll bite you if you try and feed me.”

"Then let me do what I do best. I don't need the help, all they'll do is slow me down, make me take my eyes off the ball. You gotta let me win this fight the only way I know how."

"I'm not so delicate."

“Because I prefer to look into the eyes of the person I'm meaning to kill. Makes it more personal. I want them to remember the face of the person sending them to their maker.”

“I put my fucking neck out there every day for all of you – I have been from the start. Who else is having these crazy motherfuckers digging around in their head? Do you have Joseph Seed telling you you’re some fucking sign of the Apocalypse? No.”

"If I don't keep my promise it will be just another regret in a long line of them. My life started with regret – should've been a boy, never should've been born at all – my life will likely end with regrets too."

“Just a weapon. A square peg jammed into a round hole for so many years that my edges finally ground down, and now I fit only one thing."

"I might not have the scars on the outside of what my father did to me, but I think the ones I do have are the big scarlet letter about the kind of monster he turned me into."

“It’s a sad state of affairs when I'm someone people are happy to see after any absence.”

“Well shit, if you’re damaged goods then I must be fucking ruined.”

“I did what I had to do. Just following orders.”

“Some people just aren’t meant to be saved,” Kit muttered.

She smiled, an empty grin that creeped across her face but left her eyes cold and dead. “Trust me, Jacob should be the least of your worries.”

 “You know that old saying that God never gives you more than you can handle?" She scoffed, hands held at her hips, posed like a superhero. The demigod she had become. "He must have had quite the plan for me.”

 “I’ve made my mistakes. I hurt people. Innocent people . I can’t have you on my conscience too.”

1) “I don’t give up on anything, but I refuse to be a distraction."

2) “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

3) “Oh, don't worry, sir. I only save the bleeding heart act for the innocent.”

4) “He’s a charming fellow.” The venom in Rory’s voice wasn’t lost on anyone. 

5)“Just have to use my feminine wiles and sweet talk the prick, yeah?"

6) “I’m not particularly fond of having to be like that. I do what I have to. Intimidation, fear – they’re good weapons. But I’m not some sadist, I don’t enjoy it.”

7) “That's just life though, isn't it? It's the fucking pits, and then we die, and that's that. No point letting it ruin what bit of good there is.”

8) “I know. It was him or me.”

9) Laughing, she picked up her cigarette from the sand and took a drag. “I certainly wouldn’t lie about something like that, Captain.”

10) “Two on however many. I’ll take those odds.”

11) “What? You want my life story?” Her eyes narrowed, challenging him just enough. “Is this our first date?” she asked, lifting the MRE packet. “Really splurged on dinner.”

12) “Whatever it takes.”

(and some lines from the COD MW fic i'm working on)

13) “I know, I know. Bureaucratic bullshit, not my fault, can’t let it bury me. Got enough going on inside this head already, yeah?”

14) “Tell me I can help at least. Tell me I can do something. Don’t just let me sit here in this empty house, alone, not when I can be out there making things right. Tell me you’re going to need me on this one, John.”

15) “Love you too, prat.”

16) “Oh, please, no.” She shook her head. “None of the formality. I might sound like I have a stick shoved up my arse, but I assure you, that’s not me.” She held out her hand to shake, and was met by a firm squeeze by Garrick’s hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

17) “I’m not sure the simple act of trying to keep you alive is being ‘too good’.”

[jo-harrington]

Announcement - Boundaries

I’d written this towards the end of 2023 along with my personal resolutions but figured no one would want to see this especially considering no one wants dirty laundry aired on the dash but I’ve been unfollowing and blocking enough people now that I’m making this boundary known to all.

I identify as someone on the asexual spectrum, I’m not sex-averse but it takes a lot of emotional work and build up for me to get into right headspace.

For the past few months, i have worried more about being supportive of others/friends as much as I can when they write smut blurbs than I have about my own well-being. I try to superimpose the Eddies/characters who I've already built connections with in my head when a blurb is simply smut with no plot. And honestly this has been the first fandom l've been a part of that the fan creations are so skewed towards smut and not stories first. I could be wrong about previous experiences or might have be that good at curating my experience previously.

At the end of the day, this is the boundary I’m drawing NOW.

Because now I feel like I've pulled a muscle. What I come across most often are people (friends, mutuals, etc. doesn't matter) who write an Eddie that is incongruous to the one that exists in my head and my heart (WHICH IS THEIR RIGHT AS FIC WRITERS) and it's getting harder for me to stretch just a little further to connect the two. Which leads to me reading things I can't enjoy. Not because they aren't well-written, but because I simply can't.

And it’s not just smut.

This goes the same for Steve fics, just…broadly. I'm never gonna be a Steve girl; just gonna say it. I know I've been a little contradictory in previous reblogs, but that really speaks to the talent of the authors (they know who they are) who are creating stories that allow me to develop a connection with him.

In both instances though, you can't fit a square peg into a round hole. I can try....it just might not work.

So I’m going to be a lot more picky with my experience. I can’t do it anymore. I used to tag things “I don’t always read smut but when I do…” and I’m gonna be going back to that. Even for my own writing, which I’ve always written for the target audience—myself—I will be a lot more purposeful.

If someone’s been blocked or unfollowed, it’s always been my philosophy that my blog is my home. And I need to only let people in who won’t make a mess of it. And at this point the wallpaper is in pieces, the furniture is upside down, my windows are broken, and there is no knob on the door. I need to rebuild. And I’m starting today.

[impressive-imperfection]

It was the strangest experience to take my ADHD meds for the first time…

“This is how neurotypicals think all the time…WTF?!?”

It was eye opening and frustrating.

I got so much done and was able to get everything I needed to do organized…that was the eye opener.

Wondering what I could have accomplished had I been diagnosed with ADHD at a young age…that was frustrating.

I’ve lived so long in a kaleidoscope of emotion and action. Excelling in some areas, digressing in others, pretending through them all that I was what people expected.

I didn’t know that the reason I felt so different from everyone else was because my brain worked differently. Instead, desperate to keep what I thought were my flaws a secret. I people-pleased my way into anxiety, panic attacks, & self loathing. Until, at my worst, I found myself curled into a ball in the corner of my closet. Stimming, sobbing, and wishing I could just sleep until everything was better.

There is a lot more to that, but I’ll spare the worst & lowest in this post…let’s just say that getting diagnosed with ADHD (and later ASD) and choosing medication helped me see that it isn’t me. It’s just the way I fit in this world. A world built for neurotypicals and not neurodivergents.

Trying to fit a square peg in a round hole would leave both frustrated, irritated, and not in sync.

Am I happy, especially as I get older, that I need meds to smooth my edges enough to “fit”?

No. Of course not.

It sucks.

I miss things right in front of me, but catch things no one even thinks to look for. I’m either behind everyone or miles ahead. Either way, I make those around me scratch their heads, while I pull out my hair.

Medication makes life easier, but I’d love to experience a world where being me, thinking the way I think, was an asset and not a liability.

[bookofmirth]

I feel like Sarah’s latest projects Acosf Hosab and Hofas have felt kinda different from the og acotar books and the throne of glass series, tho i don’t know if it’s maybe just me connecting them less. I was entertained with all three. Especially with acosf which I don’t think it suffered as much as the cc books. But in all three Sarah’s writing feels off.

Now I’m no specialist in criticising English books in depth but I think you said once you’ve studied literature and that’s why you make mostly analyses of the text.

So I was wondering what’s your take on this, if you’ve noticed it too or not and if yes why or how you believe the writing is off

I've been having a lot of conversations about this with people and we had different ideas, though none of them are certain.

I think that the crossover played to Sarah's weaknesses and took away from her time to write to her strengths. I think that she's at her best when she is delving into characters and emotions, and at her least effective when she's trying to do all this big plot and world stuff.

The points in her series where you can see people starting to wonder what the hell is going on, is where you can see her trying to manipulate the plot in order to set up other stories she wants to tell. The best examples of this are acowar and the acosf/hofas arc. acotar was originally going to be a trilogy and then she manipulated acowar to set up more stories. CC was going to be a trilogy until she came up with the crossover and decided to set up more stories. If she could just stick with her original plans, everything would go much better. The points at which she decides to expand the world or plot or characters, those are the places where she begins to falter. (Some people I think would include HoF in this, but I do not.)

Sarah's writing style is to not outline - she is on record saying that she does not do extensive world building, that she isn't good at it, that she doesn't outline, that she let's the story take her where it will. All of those are fine, valid ways to write! However, they make it nearly impossible for her to pull this crossover off successfully. You absolutely cannot go about such a massive undertaking and just bang out 100k words in a week, or whatever ridiculous pace she worked at this time, and have it make sense.

She is also on record saying that the crossover came to her while she was writing hosab. That means she was thousands of pages into acotar and hundreds of pages into CC before she decided to do this huge, series-altering thing. That's... not just poor planning, it's a recipe for disaster. This is why there are inconsistencies, the weird pacing, and dropped plots from hosab. It was too much and she's not the kind of writer who can take on those sorts of tasks and make it still compelling and cohesive. She just isn't.

One of my big concerns about the crossover was the genre shift - CC being urban fantasy and ACOTAR being high fantasy meant that it wasn't going to fit together. There was going to be some friction, no matter how good a writer took it on (and imo a better writer would have known that and not done it in the first place). It's not that it can't be done, it's just that both series need to have an equally strong foundation to work from. The world building in CC was much more intense than it was in acotar, and so trying to fit those two together was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

ToG never suffers from this because Sarah never tried to make it something it wasn't. She always had a clear vision of what kind of person Aelin was and why, and even though she doesn't outline, I would bet a lot of money that when she started writing ToG, she knew that at the end, Aelin was going to end up happy and on the throne of her own kingdom.

Also - and I'm sorry, I know that I am babbling haha but since your question was about acosf/hosab/hofas specifically, I do think that urban fantasy is not Sarah's genre. She clearly reads it, but... it's not the genre for displaying her strengths as a writer. All of the swearing and sex and drug use had me rolling my eyes constantly because she was just beating us over the head with how hardcore and adult the characters are.

So there are a couple of things, really, that made those three books feel off in comparison to the rest of them:

urban fantasy is not Sarah's genre,

the crossover took her energy and attention away from her strengths (emotion, character) and made her emphasize her weaknesses (plot, world)

It feels like we are watching her become a worse writer, and not better. I'm going to chalk it up to her experimenting a little bit with hofas and it not panning out. Optimistic!Lele says that now that this is out of sjm's system, we can go back to our regularly-scheduled emotional journeys with some magic stuff sprinkled in. Pessimistic!Lele doesn't trust sjm farther than she can throw her.

All of this has made me really nervous to read anything ToG-related that she might come up with in the future. I would love more ToG content from 2016 Sarah. 2024 Sarah? I'm honestly not that interested in more canon ToG stuff from her.

Sorry this got long, and I'm not even sure how cohesive all of this is, it's just been on my mind since I finished hofas!

[davecortel]

Lost in the sauce: a growing existential crisis

Recently, I’ve been wandering through life like a sailor without a compass. My job, which I once thought would be my passion, has become a source of frustration and emptiness. Despite putting in my best efforts, I feel like I'm stuck in a never-ending loop of dissatisfaction. My tasks feel mundane, and I often find myself questioning the purpose behind my daily grind. The work environment doesn’t spark joy; instead, it feels like a place where creativity goes to die. And then there’s my hometown. Living here feels like breathing in a place frozen in time, where everyone seems to cling to outdated, narrow views. Conversations often feel superficial, and I find it hard to connect with the people around me. It’s like I’m a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.

Trust has become a fragile, elusive thing for me. Reflecting on my past, I can’t help but replay the series of poor decisions I’ve made. These aren’t just minor slip-ups; they’re choices that have significantly impacted my life and left me with a backpack full of regret. The weight of these regrets often feels unbearable, and it’s hard to shake off the feeling that I’ve let myself down. These mistakes have eroded my confidence, making me second-guess every move I make. Planning for the future feels like navigating a minefield. Each step forward is tentative, filled with anxiety about repeating past errors. The shadow of my past looms large, making it challenging to trust myself or others.

I’m caught in a painful tug-of-war between ambition and fear. On one hand, I have dreams and goals that I desperately want to achieve. On the other hand, there’s a persistent fear of failure that holds me back. It’s like I’m walking a tightrope, and one misstep could send me plummeting. This existential crisis feels like an endless storm, tossing me between waves of hope and despair. The pressure to succeed is immense, yet the fear of not measuring up is paralyzing. Writing about my struggles provides a small measure of relief. It’s like opening a valve to release some of the pent-up pressure. Through my words, I hope to reach out to others who might be feeling the same way. We all face our own battles, and perhaps by sharing mine, I can find a sense of connection and a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this process of reflection and sharing will lead me to a path of greater happiness and fulfillment.

[blackgirlsrxck]

love, would you consider writing part 2 to „the other woman”? pretty please, please, please 🫶🏼 not proud to admit it, but i love the cheating trope 😳

Miss You Too

Of course!! I had so much fun writing the first one! Sorry this is a little bit shorter but I hope this is what you wanted? Enjoy

Summary: This is a part 2 of "The Other Woman" Check that out before reading this..

I knew that this was the moment I had been dreading. I had always known that our secret relationship was bound to be exposed eventually, but I had hoped that we would be able to end things on our own terms. But now, everything had blown up in our faces.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice shaking. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” Charles replied. “But we have to face the consequences of our actions.”

We talked for a while longer, trying to figure out what we were going to do. Charles said that he needed to talk to Charlotte and try to work things out with her. I knew that it was probably over between us, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

The next few weeks were a blur of phone calls, emails, and text messages. Charles and Charlotte broke up, and he tried to reach out to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I was too ashamed of what we had done, and I didn’t want to cause any more pain.

Eventually, things started to calm down, and I was able to get back to my life. I threw myself into my work, trying to distract myself from the ache in my heart. I still watched every race, but now, I did it alone.

Months went by, and I heard nothing from Charles. I started to think that he had moved on, that our relationship had meant nothing to him. But then, out of the blue, he called me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my emotions in check.

There was a long pause, and then he spoke again. “I miss you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart skipped a beat. I had missed him too, but I didn’t know if I could go through that kind of pain again. “I can’t do this,” I said, my voice breaking. “I can’t be with you.”

“I understand,” he said, sounding defeated. “I just wanted you to know that I still love you.”

And with that, he hung up.

I sat there for a long time, staring at my phone. A part of me wanted to call him back, to tell him that I loved him too. But I knew that I couldn’t. Our love was too complicated, too messy. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

I never thought I’d fall for a race car driver, but I did. And even though it didn’t work out the way I wanted it to, I wouldn’t change a thing. Because even though it was painful, it was also beautiful.

[whatsnewalycat]

I love designated person so much it’s my favourite story ever 😭😭😭😭

We’re trying to hold strong against the angst because better times will come 🥺 despite everything, I still think Frankie and reader deserve to get their happy ending and I’m glad you’re already told us they will hahaha

No rush of course, never rush but I already can’t wait to read the next chapter. I finally want Frankie to tell Angie and for things to be over between them so he can really start over. I know she’s always going to be in his life bc of Sarah but this whole situation with her is only harming him and his recovery and pretty much everything else in his life.

I know Frankie obviously fucked up a lot and a lot of things he did were terrible. But Angie is also incredibly toxic. I reread the birthday party chapter again and it makes me feel so sad for Frankie. He’s sober and doing everything he can to stay sober and his wife and her family get shit faced at a child’s birthday party. And Angie never bothered to actually look after her child either, just focused on partying and drinking.

I hope we get to read the next chapter soon! I’m excited to see what happens next with Frankie and reader. I have a feeling she might stop being his designated person because as long as she is, their relationship feels kinda unbalanced? Idk if I have the right words to explain what I mean haha.

Thanks for this chapter and we love you!!!! This was amazing but also heart breaking.

I love all of this omggg 😍😍😍

The thing about Frankie and Angie is like… they both deserve better. Sometimes people aren’t compatible in relationships but stay in them anyway and it yields misery.

Obviously neither of them are happy and haven’t been for a very very long time, but they both have this idealized picture of what a family looks like, and I think that’s what they’ve both been desperately clinging to. They’ve both been trying to fit a square peg in a round hole, calling it a perfect fit when it’s not. The last thing either of them wanted was a broken home. It’s probably one of the only things they had in common, other than their excessive alcohol use.

Something I really like about this chapter is that we know how Frankie feels about mariposa. We can see that he’s come so far since the conversation they had on the porch swing, where he was emotionally blocked off, lying to himself and to her about his feelings for her. It’s hard for our girl to see that because she doesn’t think she can trust her own instincts, while we know that she was right all along.

I’m so excited to dive into what our guy has been up to behind the scenes of this chapter. I think he knows that she won’t trust his word, so the only way he can build back what he’s ruined is with action. Showing her and himself that he can change. That he means it, really, he does love her and wants to make it right.

WAAAAHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I appreciate your kind words and I’m so grateful this story resonates with you 😭❤️❤️❤️

[maharghaideovate]

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[mr-s3lfdestruct]

I can’t say anything, this is my own doing. Why haven’t I been fixed yet? I’m trying so hard, I’ve been pushing myself to my literal breaking point to provide for them and it’s not even. It’s not enough, not even close to what I should be giving.

What kind of biological error needs to be made to make a person this horrifically obsolete? Do you know what happens to animals in nature when they’re like this? They die, simple as that. Unfortunately I’ve been given the chance and the luxury of my uselessness not getting me killed, but that isn’t saying I don’t deserve it. If I can’t contribute, why even bother keeping myself alive anymore? I’ve already proven that im too selfish for this world.

But I won’t do it, I refuse to out of what? Fear? Laziness? It’s terrifying, sure, but why can’t I bring myself to it? It’s how I’d benefit them the most. I’m a pest more than anything, like a fly that flies through your window and for whatever reason can’t make its way out, that or a mosquito which is more fitting considering how I leech off of others like I don’t pay rent. Animals that are useless benefit others the most by dying, that’s just how it works.

I can’t do it, I won’t do it, I just. I’m so scared. I’m so tired. I don’t want to die, I honestly, wholeheartedly and truthfully really don’t, but that makes me so incredibly selfish. I’m greedy for clinging onto this life, im greedy for using my energy to keep myself alive rather than benefiting others.

Maybe I was right all alone to be used like that? Maybe it’s how I benefited others best, sitting back and taking whatever I deemed “mistreatment” when in reality it was probably what I had coming. I deserved to be cheated on, I deserved to be verbally abused and berated, I deserved to have my body used, I deserved the abandonment and ghosting, I deserved all of it. I had a purpose, and that purpose was to serve until they were done with me, then I’d be passed onto the next.

I’m single use, that’s what I am. Why aren’t they treating me like that if they know that’s how im used best? Why am I not being abused and neglected? Why am I being treated like im human? I feel like im being used wrong, being loved is so genuinely terrifying to me because I know deep down I don’t deserve it. Not when I’m not making myself useful, not when im exhausted and letting myself rest.

I’m genuinely the scum of the earth, no doubt about it. Being left out of things is nothing compared to the abuse I’ve suffered through before, yet it has that same aching to it, which is so cruel for me to say, so hurtful to them because it’s not their fault, it’s my fault for not being receptive enough, it’s my fault for not providing and having the energy to come up with things myself, it’s mh fault for seeming uninterested when in reality im just tired, that or im too scared to say anything out of fear of intruding

Because that’s what I am, im intrusive, im invasive, I leech off of others with nothing to provide myself. Why does my mind go blank when I try to come up with things to say in return? Why can’t I find the right words to describe my ideas? I’m a square peg in a round hole, I simply don’t belong, maybe it’s not my thing, maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to come up with things, maybe im useless.

I have so many ideas with fish it’s insane but. I don’t talk about any of them, it’s not my place. If I can’t provide and be receptive to other people’s ideas, do you know how incredibly selfish it is to bring up my own things? Maybe that’s why im not included, maybe that’s why im never told things anymore, I simply can’t provide. I’ve been squeezed dry, I’m used to being single use, I can’t keep up with this, I can’t constantly provide because im used to my body and mh mind being used as a one and done type of deal.

I’m so exhausted, im so tired, I crave love and affection and I crave to be spoiled and taken care of but lord knows that’s the farthest thing from what I deserve. Loving me is a chore, and im a horrible person for giving anyone that task.

I’m so fucking tired, what the actual fuck is wrong with me, I can’t do this anymore

[percontaion-points]

Delicious Monsters chapters 5 & 6

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 5

 Now it was just the thing that sold me out—my accounts giving Tara everything she needed to expose me as the underage one of their group.

To expose you… Or to expose the literal child groomer? 

But when Grandma saw [the 5th grade graduation award] and found out she hadn’t been invited to the [5th grade graduation] ceremony, she burst into tears.

I’m not even sorry about saying this, but being invited to the child’s important events is for family members who actually give a shit about the child. 

I would be leaving behind memories of places I’d walked with Noah, laughed with Noah, slept with Noah. If I left, what would happen to them?

Babygirl, listen to me: Noah ghosted you after you accidentally let slip that you were still in high school. He ran because he knows that what he’s doing is wrong. He found a new girl to con and manipulate and groom. 

Why are you holding onto those memories? Why do you want to?

He’s literally a guy. Hit him with your car!

“Why am I deciding?” I didn’t usually push back, but this felt too big. “You’re the one with a job.” 

You’re the one who wanted this. Who planned for it. Meticulously. Feverishly. Obsessively. 

Except I wanted it too. Of course I did. Freedom was a single “yes” away. So why couldn’t I just say it? 

Mom took in a deep breath before settling back into that stillness. Her eyes met mine across the room. Perfect matches. The same too-light-to-be-black-andtoo-dark-to-be-plain-brown shade. Eyes that would get lost in the night and found as it turned to day. “Because I can’t be impartial. Besides, this only works if you want it to work. You need to keep everything under control.”

Why does this feel like a trap?

I didn’t know if I wanted that or not. Besides, this only works if you want it to work.

Chapter 5 summary: As Daisy cleans up the mess she made of the bathroom, she thinks about… Well, it’s not exactly abuse-abuse, but it’s obviously not good for the child. The parentification that she’s been forced to do, because her mother is emotionally immature. 

When she gets out of the bathroom, her mom forces her to take a call from her dad. After having hung up on her daughter, grandma called Daisy’s father. He tells her not to go, but then doesn’t bother to explain why. Or at least, Daisy tunes out his lecture, so the reader never actually finds out. Dad is a deadbeat. He spent the first four years of Daisy’s life not in it. Then he spent two years with forgettable meetings before dipping out again, and only calling every so often. 

Once she hung up, Daisy went to her mother, who explains about this house. It belongs to dearly departed Uncle Peter, who was married to the mother’s sister. Grandma is upset because the house should go to Aunt Dione. But they’re divorced, and nobody in the family actually talks about Dione anymore. Peter wanted Daisy and her mother to have it instead.

Daisy is hesitant to leave the city behind… As mentioned, because of her memories of her toxic relationship with Noah. I still don’t know why she cares so much about a guy that ghosted her and moved on. 

However, Daisy is somehow hesitant to agree. The entire thing seems like some sort of trap, but I need more info about what’s going on. 

Chapter 6

Right. Mom’s study sessions. Evenings where I couldn’t hang out with Megan or her friends and instead had to spend a night with Mom. Learning. Her trying to form me into that picture of perfection that I could never fit. Shoving square-pegged me into a round hole. It was just as painful as it sounded. 

It was easier to lie and call them “study sessions” than to say what really happened on those nights. 

I’m going to go out on a limb now and call it for what it is: abuse. 

“What did your dad say?” 

“He said that he would prefer I not go.”

“Because it would interrupt school?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t give a reason.”

I’m not even sorry for saying this, but you can’t say shit like that and then refuse to give an actual reason. 

Daisy is 17, not 7. She’s old enough to be told the reasons. Even if it’s about her mother being fucking terrible. 

“We really just shouldn’t have hung out. Tara was pissed at me about you being so young, and she was right.” 

What? Tara was right? We shouldn’t have hung out? What did “hung out” mean? We were dating. 

“But you always said that age didn’t matter.” The words ran out of my mouth. Timid. Meek. Like a soft piece of shit. I hated myself for saying them. 

Noah shrugged. “It’s just like, it’s a big chore. I know you’re mature for your age. I really do, Daze, but other people don’t get it.”

HE’S ONLY UPSET THAT HE GOT CAUGHT BEING A PAEDOPHILE AND GROOMER. 

I would just be a girl with a little fro. I wanted to be free. And for that, I would need the house.

Chapter 6 summary: Later, Daisy meets up with her only friend, Megan, who is the daughter of wealthy Korean immigrants. Megan peppers her with questions that Daisy isn’t ready to answer. 

After leaving her friend, Daisy lies in wait for Noah to come home. He feeds her all of this BS about how inappropriate that them “hanging out” was. I’ve said what I’ve said about that. He also insists that his new white girlfriend is over 18, but Daisy doesn’t know if it’s in the same context that Daisy also claimed to be over 18, too. I don’t think it matters much in the long run, however. 

Since her relationship with Noah is now officially over, Daisy goes to eat schnitzel and try not to cry. Because crying only attracts the dead. (I’m still waiting for the payoff about her being able to see the dead, rather than a bizarre footnote that adds nothing to the plot.)

[jastrzwolvar]

This!!! Even though it doesn’t change what physically happens, it re-contextualises it all and lets you realise it wasn’t because you as an individual are just terrible and broken and it’s all your fault, but it was all because you are just wired differently - in a way that lots of other wonderful people are too (you have a community!) - and were forced to try to fit into a box you just physically couldn’t. You see how you tried to bend and break yourself to fit a square peg through a round hole, and you get to finally start to unpack how fucked up everything that was done to you really was. You finally get to forgive yourself and love yourself, and say ‘I deserved better’.

One of my best examples is an incredibly formative memory of mine. I was only in primary school, probably between 6-8 years old. I used to stim by rolling my hands around each other, though I never realised I was doing it until one day in music class the teacher physically grabbed my hands, then didn’t just shout at me to stop but aggressively and mockingly copied my stimming directly in front of my face, so close I was scared she was going to hit me. I can still remember the fucking noise of her bracelets clashing. For so many years I blamed myself for that moment, thought I should have been better behaved. After my autism diagnosis (in my 20s) I finally got to look back on that moment and really understand just how fucked up it was, and understand how badly it damaged me. It was the moment when I became incredibly self-conscious about my stims, made me see them as a Bad Thing, and stifled my ability to stim until I started to physically unlearn it these past few years. I still think of that moment a lot, but at least now I finally fully understand the harm it did and what I can do to help heal from it.

Just so much of my life makes sense to me now that I know this core thing about myself, and I finally get to feel like more than just a failure. I finally get to say ‘I did my best, and I’m fucking proud i made it this far despite it all’.

when I was a kid, I remember obsessively combing over my memories, trying to figure out when I had gone wrong. because from the age of 6 onward, I felt very much like a zebra trying to slip into a herd of horses, where they could all clearly see my stripes.

I have a tear-stained diary entry from the age of 12 where I was ecstatic over getting my first anemia diagnosis, because I thought that could be the culprit for ruining my brain.

and last year, when I finally accepted I might be autistic, I had a conversation with my mom where she said "What does it even matter? It doesn't change anything, so why care?"

even when I told her how much this knowledge would have meant to me as a kid, I don't think she understood. it's a hard thing to explain.