#and it sucks because i genuinely enjoy writing and could write for fun but SOMETHING always derails it

[spagetmonster]

Great filter this, great filter that. Anyone gonna talk about the great literary filters that stop me from writing shit.

Here they are:

1. Can't figure out the plot.

2. This would be better as a graphic novel/manga/comic (tragically, not an artist)

3. This is a fun idea but can I really just keep writing a story with no idea how to end it and just keep adding onto it forever?

4. FUCK YEAH I CAN DO THAT I CANT WAIT TO-oh my anxiety + crippling fear of letting things go and moving on from them killed it.

[star-girl69]

Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

[vigilskeep]

now that you finished inquisition, what did you think of it? like favorite things, least favorite, etc?

oh man okay

things i love about dragon age inquisition:

capturing the specific feeling of bonding with a group of people you have absolutely nothing in common with because u all had to go through something long and specific together

the maps can be so pretty and in places really calming and lovely to spend time in. it does make me want to explore and i have no explorer’s instinct

i love the war table and judgements i think those are really fun features

i like that approval for many major decisions applies to everyone regardless of who you bring to specific events/quests. it feels a lot less like you have to manage that really hard, as you sometimes do in the other games and also really noticeably to me in something like baldur’s gate 3. it’s irritating when i have to plan ahead and can’t take who i want to hear from

i like how attached you can get to little npcs who wander around

i loveeeee fighting dragons and how beautiful they all are

little puzzles <3

the collectibles are also mostly fine by me i am a magpie by nature. as long as i can find them, obviously, bc if i can’t they suck and this whole game sucks

the templar specialisation is fun and i enjoyed that part of combat a lot. wrath of heaven/spell purge combo is a power trip

i thought my character was pretty :) i defeated u in the end dai character creator. may you be as merciful when we meet in battle once more

i’m not a huge crafter but being able to tint things is rlly nice

blackwall’s romance is good

vivienne is there

they let me briefly tame a dragon at the end there

things i don’t love about dragon age inquisition:

some genuine cruelty in writing the dalish in a way that feels shockingly callous to the real world cultures the writers took inspiration from

never giving the dalish or the rebel mages any kind of voice of their own and making the player do all that work if they care, which i also feel limits my roleplaying creativity

refusing to let you challenge any of the often overwhelmingly conservative views expressed by other characters without receiving only derision and disapproval. inquisition is a game that punishes you at every turn for having your own opinions, in a way that could be interesting if it was willing to truly let you develop complex or antagonistic relationships with those characters, but ends up mostly just feeling mocking when nobody ever even tries to see your side, while simply agreeing with these people always rewards you with content. origins was capable of letting you engage in discussion, and da2 let you form rivalries that mattered; inquisition, despite starring some of the most intentionally controversial characters, does neither

the game engineering conflicts against groups like the freemen of the dales or the avvar that mean nothing to the player and range from vaguely to seriously upsetting in their assumptions about who it’s normal to just start killing en masse. it’s both boring and distressing

odd, for lack of a better word “casting choices”, like having the fantasy impoverished racial minority all be white within the party while the wealthiest and most privileged are characters of colour, or for a more in-world example having the elves express the most distaste towards elves and the mages express the most caution about mages. i don’t know that i quite have the vocabulary to fully discuss why these weird me out, but it all feels... disingenuous? and chosen to forestall criticism based on real world comparisons in a game series that i wish had the nerve to openly confront what it’s talking about if it’s going to try to make any of its conflicts feel relevant

most of the companions, and indeed most of the quests and time spent playing the game, feel disconnected from the main plot. it’s hard to feel any pressure when the game tells you we need to deal with the main plot “right now!” and “get there before corypheus!” when the bulk of the game is doing other things while you’re supposed to be doing that. the majority of companions could be cut without changing anything. and when you finally want to deal with the main plot you just click to start it. it’s not engaging

the game fails to fully expand dialogue for the player character options it provided, particularly notable with its confusing chantry focus when you’ve said for the dozenth time you’re not andrastian

the 2-handed weapon whirlwind ability sound effect is an exercise in creating the worst and most grating sound effect for someone to constantly hear

they didn’t let me romance vivienne

they killed my dragon :(

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Another quick one before sleep. This is honestly becoming a fun wind down exercise to relax before bed! I highly recommend just letting the words come as they come and disconnect for a moment.

Shout out to @impyssadobsessions and @emeraldsandamethyst for hyping me up as I write this fic! Thank you for the support!

Part 1 || Part 3 - Part 5

----

Jazz flexed her right hand and picked up the wooden spoon again. Her knuckles were definitely bruised and it was going to be annoying for a day or two. 

She sighed. 

Not even making her favorite soup was proving capable of cheering her up anymore. She kept going back to Hood screaming at her after the bank robbery earlier that afternoon, how he grabbed her and pushed her away.

His constant rejection stung, and she wasn’t stupid — smiling and having a positive attitude wasn’t going to magically change his mind. She tried to prove she was smart, resourceful and strong enough; and if it wasn’t enough for him then there was nothing she could do.

She could try her luck with the other bats, but she didn’t know if he had already warned them about her or something.

Jazz tried the soup and winced. It was… not fine. Tasted slightly burnt and needed more salt. She shouldn’t be cooking while in a bad mood since she was messing even the soup she could do with her eyes closed.

A soft tap on her balcony window made her jump and then chide herself for being so easily startled.

She turned, finding the same vigilante she had been thinking about. What did he want?

He said something, but his voice was muffled through the glass, and with the helmet’s voice modulation she couldn’t make the words. Jazz pointed at her ears and shook her head. The man sighed, given how his shoulders slumped, and took off his helmet.

Jazz’s eyes were glued to the white locks of hair he had at the front. 

“I want to talk.” He said.

She considered him — the disarmed body language, the tense lips that weren’t a smile, his fingers tapping the helmet. She was sad and a little bit mad about the incident that day but…

She checked the soup one more time and sighed, turning off the stove and putting the pot away.

“What do you want?” Maybe she could have said that less like she wanted to bite his head off, but she was tired and mad and hungry. And he had been an asshole to her for the better part of a month.

Hood just stood there, quiet. She raised an eyebrow.

“Your food sucks.”

Jazz took in a deep breath and moved to close her balcony glass door, considering the conversation over. 

“Wait,” he stopped her from totally closing the door, “I didn’t mean that.”

She glared at the whiteouts of his domino mask. “You don’t have to lie, I know I’m not a good cook.”

“Okay, then your food has… room to improve?”

This made her chuckle, but it was more because of the face he made. He looked completely out of place, trying to play nice like this. 

“What do you want?” She asked again, reopening the glass door. This time, she also made a gesture to let him inside if he wanted. Surprisingly enough, he followed, his helmet under one arm. “Want something to drink? I may have some apple juice, but I’m not sure.”

“Beer?”

“Are you drinking on the job, Mr. Hood?” She smirked, enjoying the way he huffed at her words.

“Call me just Hood.” He shook his head. “And I’m fine just like this. I’m not staying long anyway.”

She shrugged. “What do you want?” She asked for the third time.

Jazz watched him shuffle his feet and run a gloved hand through his hair. He was nervous, avoiding her eyes. He reminded her so much of Danny, and how hard it was for him to open difficult conversations.

“After— After you left, I saw the snipers. Thank you.” He added with a small voice. It was genuine. “They could have really turned the situation to something worse, and… and I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

“It’s fine. You were busy.”

He was talking about the guys on the rooftops that she took care of, and the reason why she couldn’t follow him into the bank on time before the lockdown. She tried to explain, but he cut her off so rudely so he might have found them tied up and knocked out where she left them.

He shook his head again. “I didn’t let you explain.”

“No, you didn’t.” What was the point in sugar coating? “You were, and excuse my wording, a grade A asshole.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.” He sighed. “That I am.” He cleared his throat but didn’t speak for a few moments. Jazz waited patiently as he gathered his words. “I’m not a good mentor. I don’t even know what I could offer you. And I’m a ‘grade A asshole’, but… You are one tough motherfucker to keep coming back again and again... And you did me a solid today… I guess what I’m trying to say is—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, I will be your student.” She smiled and extended her hand. “When do we start, teacher?”

----

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[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Watching Horror Movies Together

Super Short Headcanons || Modern Au

Genre: Fluff Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: None - super casual writing

AN: I know no one requested this but I was on a horror binge last night and couldn't stop thinking about how these guys would act during a scary movie marathon so I wrote a quick thing in my notes app to post teehee~ ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Is not scared at all - literally impossible to scare.

Thinks horror movies are predictable and kind of boring.

However, God forbid a dog dies in the movie because he will get up and turn it off and say that the writers went too far.

Grumbles and groans on movie nights where you choose a horror movie, but will always wrap an arm around you and insist of sharing a blanket because he just likes spending time with you and being able to hold you close.

Will tease you for your bad taste in movies but secretly loves watching them with you and finds himself getting sucked into them every now and then.

John Marston:

Is on the edge of his seat the whole time.

Claims he's watching them because he thinks they're funny, but actually really enjoys trying to figure out who the killer is and who's going to die when and where.

Jumps at every jump scare but acts like he didn't.

He needs to watch a Disney movie afterwards so he doesn't have nightmares. Will say it's for your sake and not his, though.

Man acts all big and bad, but once the music starts to get intense and there's a long hallway on the screen he is looking everywhere but at the TV so he isn't jumpscared again.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Probably taking notes during psychological horror movies on how to be manipulative.

Says the killer is misunderstood or that their tragic backstory makes the killing justified.

He will eat all the popcorn and then get upset when it's all gone. Cue the puppy eyes while he's begging you to go make more.

Spends a good forty-five minutes talking about how you and him would survive the movie because y'all are so much smarter than the main characters and would make it out of there.

Genuinely believes he's invincible and could survive any scenario.

Javier Escuella:

HATES horror movies because they genuinely scare him.

Well, he can handle slashers but he hates paranormal movies since he believes in ghosts 100% no questions asked.

Loves making a snack buffet for the movie - popcorn, candy, cookies, sodas, fries, and the works.

Encourages you to cuddle into him and hold him whenever you get too scared since he's so big and brave.

Will end up being the one hiding his face in your shoulder and holding you like a teddy bear because he got freaked out.

Charles Smith:

Loves to analyze horror movies in -like- an artistic way.

His favorite types are historical horrors because so much thought goes into them.

He will watch silly horror with you, though, like Scream and Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, but will spend the whole movie making fun of you. Lightheartedly, of course, he's saying that those aren't real scary movies and that you're kind of a wuss.

The entire movie his arm is wrapped around you and pressing you deep into his side so that you can cuddle and be warm. It's a little too comfortable though and you end up falling asleep there more often than not.

Loves it when you do that, it makes him feel all soft and warm on the inside.

Sean MacGuire:

Makes jokes the entire time.

Literally has something to say every 2 minutes that has the both of you laughing instead of being scared.

Honestly, it's the only way he can get through the whole movie.

If you start getting sucked into the movie and he's too nervous to fully focus on the screen, he will start throwing popcorn at you to get your attention.

Halfway through the movie he will make you pause it so that he can have a mental break from all the scary stuff and gore. Totally turns into a make-out session and the movie is long forgotten.

Sadie Adler:

Absolutely nothing fazes her, she LOVES scary movies.

She knows all the behind-the-scenes info about every movie you watch too because she deep dives into interviews and essays after watching them the first time.

Her eyes are glued to the screen but will have you lay your head in her lap so she can run her fingers through your hair to soothe you when you get scared.

Makes fun of you when you react at a jump scare. When you look up at her with a frown, she'll press kisses all over your face until you can't help but smile.

She loves that she can make you feel comforted and safe when you're scared, secretly loves it even more when you try to go to bed after the movie and you're clinging to her like a koala because you're still a little spooked by the film.

<><><><>

I know summer isn't even close to over yet, but I am so excited for Halloween this year, so here's a little Halloween in July (think like that Gravity Falls episode)

Hope you enjoyed <3

[morken1396]

I'm Done. Helluva Boss has officially lost me.

I finally tried to watch Apology Tour this evening. I made it to 9m58s and I just could NOT go any further in the episode. I very honestly had to close the browser because I was cringing so hard. So I have no idea what happened past Verosika cutting the Blitz cake, other than what I've seen online from y'all.

And that's saying something, considering I managed to make it through the painful, cringe-worthy Stolas/Blitz confrontation at the end of "Full Moon".

Please feel free to let me know if any future episodes are truly worth watching, but I just keep getting the absolute "Ick" from Viv and Co. regarding most of the HB/HH content in 2024.

It's odd and weirdly humbling to be in a position where I used to defend these shows and the writers (to an extent), but I just can't anymore. I'm done. The narrative in HH and especially HB is so painful for me to watch, now. You may disagree, which is absolutely, positively fine!

Power to you if you enjoy it, but I don't, anymore.

My genuine facial expression for the entire first ten minutes of "Apology Tour" that I could manage to stomach was LITERALLY this:

I'm done.

I still enjoy HB's first few S1 episodes before HB bought in so heavily into becoming the "Stolitz" show (I'm fully aware Stolas was featured from the start, but he was very villain-coded in the beginning, and I loved it, and its past potential storyline implications).

And I will admit that I find the original Fizz/Oz content from "Ozzie's" and pieces of S2 E6&7 to be enjoyable. I'm still an absolute sucker for Fizzarolli - sue me.

But let me be clear, Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel were never - in my eyes - well-done, artistic, or particularly poignant. They were fun, but that was the end of it. They weren't/aren't well-written.

They're not "important", which is fine. Content doesn't have to be important, impactful, or "well done" in order for people to enjoy it.

They were fun, and fun only. But now, they are trying to be "good", and they (HB, esp.) are not that. Because, frankly, Viv truly isn't capable of writing that way. Which - again - is fine!! Not everything has to be cinematically excellent and objectively "good" in order to be enjoyable to the audience.

We can enjoy content without it having to be important.

But please stop trying to make your fun IMP plotline into a melodrama that you, yourself, are not mature enough to write WELL, Vivienne. Stop playing HB as suddenly "important" with storylines that are complex and inward-focused when you have failed to set them up as such from the start.

Ret-conning is not good writing, and you're relying on it far too much. Particularly with your dear, sweet Stolas.

And frankly, I'm tired.

We should have a "Viv Sucks" party every Halloween, instead.

[mvlders222]

hii, could you write about Natalie scatorccio and a reader with anxiety problems?

I know it's a sensitive topic and I will understand if you don't want to write about this.

(sorry if I don't express myself well, English is not my native language)

a/n; hi!! thank you for the request. i hope i wrote this well and to your liking. reader's gender is female. i have a handful of people in my life with clinical anxiety, but i also did my research before diving into this topic. if the way i describe these feelings isn't accurate, please let me know so i can edit/rewrite this fic.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

pairing ; natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

wordcount ; 1.1k

summary ; nat invites you to one more party, and you typically never accept. she reasons that this would be the last one before your guys�� flight tomorrow for nationals. this however doesn’t seem to go as planned…

warnings ; anxiety, overthinking, sorta angst to fluff, alcohol, underage drinking, mention of smoking (let me know if there's any more!)

You and Natalie had been dating for two months now. And you knew each other even earlier than that. But throughout your time knowing her, she had never not invited you to any event whether it be a smoke sesh or a bonfire.

And you had always turned her down. This wasn’t your way of rejecting her, but it wasn’t exactly your crowd. You could only conjure up the most ridiculous and almost impossible situations that would happen because you just showed up in a social setting.

Your guys’ first date in your backyard where you guys shared a pizza and your first kiss (probably not a good kiss with the pizza). The point was that it was in the privacy of your own home.

You know Nat would never force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to do. But considering how she felt going to these parties without you, you decided you finally show. So she came to your house minutes before the party to help you prepare.

There you stood in front of your mirror, Natalie behind you looking at your guys’ reflection. She had her hands on your shoulders and smiled at you through the mirror.

She was dressed in a leather jacket and worn in Doc Martins. She had a red pleated skirt and ripped fishnets and a plethora of rings adorned her fingers. She had smudged eyeliner around her eyes but it was meant to look like that.

You were simply wearing a long sleeve since it was chilled out. A pair of thrifted jeans that were your favorite pair, despite them already being worn.

“Are you ready?” She smiled at you and you nodded. She kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand to drag you out of your bedroom and your house.

It wasn’t a far walk, just further out into the woods so you both walked there, hand in hand.

“Have you ever been to one of these before?” Nat smirked. It wasn’t mean, it was a genuine question. “You just never wanna come with me when I offer.”

“Not really to any parties. I’ve been to the football games but I never have any fun there,” you shrugged. You were the type to stay in and enjoy a movie, rather than agree with people who speak in majority filler words. It was exhausting to try and find any way to talk to these people without absolutely crumbling.

“I thought it’d be nice though. Since we leave tomorrow,” you smiled. You looked at the dead leaves on the ground as the two of you walked together.

As you got closer and closer to the bonfire, you could see the light and hear a mix of chatter, laughter, and music. A heavy feeling started to settle in your stomach, but you tried to push it down because what would Nat think if you wanted to turn around?

When you started to catch up with people and run into the couples sucking faces, it was like a middle school dance. People were spread out across the woods, but no one was dancing to the music. All talking in their small groups, holding red solo cups full of something.

“I’m gonna go find a keg.” Natalie let your hand go and walked away from you, walking through different circles of people to find a buzz.

You tried following her, but her trail was too spontaneous. She would push people apart from each other, even when they were invested in a full-on conversation. She would split trees and walk through bushes.

So afraid of losing her, you weren’t paying attention to the others around you, mumbling different “sorry”s to several strangers. Maybe you had been paying too much attention to the people around you and that’s how you lost your girlfriend in the crowds.

You couldn’t ask anyone for help, they seemed to look at you like you snuck onto earth. Whether it was the anxiety or the plethora of circles you’d made searching for Natalie, your nausea was starting to set in.

Your stomach was tied in knots and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t move. Your breathing became shallow. The lights were too bright and the music was too loud, it was hard to even think in a setting like this.

An unexpected hand grasped at your shoulder and tugged you around. Trying not to fall over your own feet, you grabbed at anything physical in front of you.

Your eyes came into focus. “Natty!” You let out what felt like the last breath you’d ever take. You pulled her toward you in a great embrace. You felt a splash at your feet and arms wrap around you hesitantly.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” she apologized earnestly. You both pulled away slightly. “I completely forgot and I feel like a complete jerk-“

“You dropped your beer,” you interrupted her. Your monotone made her smile and laugh. It was something so simple that didn’t compare to the situation that was happening.

“I hadn’t even noticed.” She smiled and pecked the corner of your lips. She looked down at your hand and held it gently with her own, toying with the tips of your fingers. Looking back up to meet your eyes, her face became soft. “Do you wanna go?”

You took a deep breath and looked at her as if she had confused you for someone else. “No, it’s okay! But if you wanna stay. I’ll just go–”

She quickly shushed you and held your face in her hands. “Shh, baby… I love you more than some… party.” She giggled at the situation.

“Are you sure? Have you even talked to your friends yet?” All of your questions made her shut you up again, pressing her lips to yours, trying to get you to stop mumbling into your kiss.

She pulled away and gave you a knowing look. You just replied with a small smile on your lips. Natalie furrowed her brows as she licked her lips once over. “Is that cherry?”

“Yeah, it came in, like, a pack of four.” You giggled in response to her behavior.

“That gives us one more reason to leave,” She moved her hands to grab yours, pulling you away from the rest of the party. “We have to try all of them. If they’re as good as they taste, ya know.”

[meirimerens]

how do i get into drawing more? i've enjoyed drawing since i was a child but i never really practiced it that much and as such most of my stuff is pretty rudimentary from a technique standpoint. i only have physical supplies and i cannot afford an ipad or a drawing pad any time soon

there is no need for an ipad or a tablet if you don't already draw something expansive you don't even have to worry about that. I (and i imagine many/most artists who began drawing young) got my start on normal paper sheets the one they call "printer paper" because it's thin and textureless. Actually that might be a lie because I think that even before that I was drawing on walls so truly full circle of a thing.

The only stuff you need to draw are something To Draw With, whether it be a pencil or a pen; if it is a pencil also have an eraser, a no-bullshit rectangular eraser, I've literally never understood what the good was in the pink & blue ones beyond making holes & stamps in them, just get a normal good eraser, slightly squishy so it doesn't pull at the paper like a maniac when you use; And paper to draw in. I'd say get a sketchbook for the convenience + the chill of it all. Doesn't even have to be thicker "drawing paper" it can just be a random, lineless notebook. I like mine to have a spiral spine so I can take full advantage of the page but don't even need that. Genuinely for years this was my drawing material (+ whatever paper I found, including my school supplies)

(Staedtler eraser very good actually I've been using it for 10yrs among the better I've used if you find it get yourself one. This shit was like 1.50€ at my local papeteries and then again they mightve inflated the price)

Now I'm gonna tell you about my life because I think it colors the way I approach drawing and as such the advice I'll give you: I started drawing really young (like pre-dates knowing how to read or write) and never stopped. That means I, technically, have some 20+ years of drawing, but I still struggle with what are kinda "fundamentals". I only quite late, technically speaking, gotten into trying my hand as perspective & naturalistic anatomy. That's because I had, at the start, nothing but passion.

And that's gonna be the one piece of advice I have for you:

Get really, really into something, and start trying like the devil to get good at drawing it.

When I was a wee lad I loved horses so much (and I still do.) and all I wanted to do was get good at drawing horses so I could draw stories with horses, so I practiced drawing horses from the horse magazines i had. Around 11, I got really into manga and all I wanted to do was get good at drawing manga so I could draw my own (a lot of my actually like Formative Years of drawing was manga, and I think it's still visible especially when I draw cartoony faces these days), so I practiced drawing manga from the how-to books their were at the library (and we had actually good ones, including Japanese mangaka's translated into french). Around 14, I got really into Video Game, and all I wanted to do was get real good at drawing the characters, so i practiced from youtube tutorials & other internet finds. Nowadays I'm into art history & archeology, and go out of my way to see and grasp and understand #whateverthiswas and try to pepper it (or sometimes dump the whole bag) in my images.

If you're starting "from nothing", I feel like practicing anatomy for the sake of anatomy (for example) will just piss you off. When you get more into the groove of things, and actually want to Get Serious, you'll sit down to Actually Practice, but I personally have always found that Learning for the Passionate Goal makes the whole thing more interesting than Learning To Learn To Then Attempt The Passionate Goal.

It's gonna suck for a while. It truly will. You'll see every improvement so drastic you'll be like ewww what was that 2 months ago. But you will HAVE HAD FUN DOING IT!!!

Tldr

1) get into something. Whatever it is.

2) collect tools and tutorial to serve whatever it is you're into, and not try to get into the tools: that will come later, once you're already in the habit of drawing.

3) you don't need fancy material

4) never underestimate the power of the humble ballpoint pen and clicky pencil

5) train your brain, the muscle of your brain, to conjure up images until there is nothing you can do BUT exteriorize them lest they poison you

6) you don't have to post anything online btw. In fact, I attribute the fact that I have always loved art so much to the fact that for the first 15yrs of my life I could truly just enjoy the process and vibe. I still do, don't take me wrong, and truly I draw for myself and you're all trapped in here with me. Looking at the slop i feed you. But there is an inherent, new dimension added with Being The Blogger. So have fun and vibe.

7) the heart is the horse, the hands are the rider

[bysaber]

Ice skating ft. Katsuki Bakugo

Day 01 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — an ice skating night with your boyfriend ends with a nosebleed and a contusion.

word count — 796

content — fluff, minor injuries, swearing, two fools in love, bad writing

notes — welcome to the first day of my event! i’m really excited about this one and i hope you can all enjoy it with me. just to get started, here’s some silly stuff. <3

“If you don’t know how to do it, why would you suggest it?”

It was the third time Bakugo complained behind you, his hands firmly on your waist as you tried to slide through the ice rink, almost falling more than once.

He would find it funny if it wasn’t so concerning.

“Because it seemed fun,” you insisted, and then added, “and easy.”

You were stubborn in a dangerous way, he thought to himself, knowing damn well you wouldn’t stay on your feet for three seconds if he took his hands off you.

“Seems fun and easy because they know what they’re doing, babe,” he laughed.

“Yeah? Watch me, Kats! I’m gonna be the best ice skater by the end of the night.”

A smirk tugged on his lips, a praise getting caught in his throat because he was too much of a prick to give it to you so easily – but that was his girl, so full of determination and defiance.

He could only laugh, smitten as you took his hands off your waist and grabbed on the supports around the rink to stabilize yourself.

“I’m watching you, babe,” he teased, skating around you, close enough to be there for you if needed.

He kept watching you closely for the sake of your safety and it truly amazed him when, less than ten minutes later, you were actually able to skate by yourself – nothing much, slowly and with your hands in the air to keep your balance, but still.

Katsuki chuckled, sliding around you and taking your hand, “Not bad, huh?”

“I’m just getting star–”

Bakugo only saw it when it was too late – a little boy going at full speed in your direction, eyes wide and clearly unable to stop. He crashed into you, still hand-holding Katsuki, and the three of you fell on the ice-cold hard ground.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Bakugo said gloomily to the kid’s mom, who had the kindness of taking all of you to the hospital.

The little boy was okay – you and Katsuki had dampened his fall – but Bakugo ended up with a nosebleed for falling facefirst and was now waiting for you to take X-rays for an injured ankle.

He sat in the hospital’s waiting room, frustrated and worried that you had broken something.

When you showed up a few minutes later with a walking stick, ankle bandaged and face puffy from crying, he felt like blowing the whole place up. It sucked that a night that was supposed to be fun turned out like this for you, and he felt somewhat responsible.

“Hey, babe… how are you?” he asked softly, so different from the usual, helping you walk towards one of the seats. He couldn’t bring himself to be his normally grumpy self when you looked so sad, his chest tightening.

“I’m ok, it’s ok, just a contusion…” you reassured, gazing at his bandaged nose and then down, “It’s just… I’m sorry, Kats. I shouldn’t have insisted.”

Bakugo immediately stiffened, blinking rapidly. There was no way you were blaming yourself, “What’s that now?”

You felt your eyes burning and fought against the tears, not wanting to cry again, but your voice still broke when you explained, “If I hadn’t insisted I could ice-skate, nothing of this would happen and we would be doing something fun. I wouldn’t need to walk like a grandma and you wouldn’t look like… I don’t know! Like a clown!”

It startled you when Katsuki started laughing. A genuine laugh, his eyes closing as he did and the sound echoing in the room – that sound had the ability to light up the entire city, and you ended up laughing as well. Of the things you said, of the situation, of yourself.

And, in the end, all of it didn’t seem so bad.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had a nosebleed, but I’m glad to know you think I look like a clown,” he commented with a smirk when the laughter died, taking some snacks out from his coat pockets casually. “Got these snacks you like from the machine over there, grandma. I think we can have plenty of fun here… or anywhere, to be honest.”

With tears still threatening to fall down your face, you looked at him with adoration and love shining on your eyes, a happy smile shyly growing on your lips. Katsuki always made you feel better, no matter the situation.

And he carried that smirk – the one that told you he knew everything you didn’t.

“And you were right, by the way,” he resumed his rambling, “If we weren’t interrupted, you were going to be the best ice skater by the end of the night.”

The smirk that showed you that he truly saw you.

[wifegideonnav]

should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good

"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,

no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.

readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.

the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:

several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.

it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.

overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.

the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:

i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those

act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good

things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests

things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.

and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.

so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!

[misshoneyimhome]

Hi there hunny! I am absolutely loving your writing, I feel like so many babes are hopping on the Willy hype finally!! Not sure if you’re actively looking for requests, but I am just in desperate need for a jealous, slightly angry William - like there’s any writing where he looses his cool because he’s just so laid back as a human. I think you could so do it justice, because I’m not meaning like scary angry ya know? Baby girl can’t. But I feel like as a partner and especially in the early stages he could probably come off as noncommittal or just almost too laid back about your relationship - mostly because he’s so secure about it and how he feels that he forgets you can’t read his inner monologue because he wouldn’t have you there if he wasn’t 100% sure. But maybe you try to call it off after seeing him schmooze at a team event and he like loses it out of fear and frustration at himself that you would think he’s not in it or you’re unspoken together but still not exclusive and you’re having fun at the club after a win just dancing but back at home he loses it (cue the stick breaking vid)! Either situation I would be pissed at him for being clueless but think my panties would melt off for an angry, jealous Willy because if you can get that reaction outta that man you’re in for a treat!!

Uh I’m here for it babe! 😍 angry/jealous/frustrated!Willy is just something of a kind, and I love it 😉 [I had a smilier idea a while back, in case you feel like reading this blurb - it has more jealousy 😉 (pure smut btw)]

And thank you btw, I always love people’s feedback, and requests are just so much fun - I love it when everyone shares their ideas ❤️

So, I went with more frustrated!Willy, rather than being jealous - hope that's ok; however, I do have a piece on the way, also inspired by the breaking-stick video, so hopefully, you'll enjoy that 😊

➼｡ﾟ

The Calm Before the Storm I William Nylander

4 months and 21 days.

It had been that long since you’d found yourself in what could be deemed a relationship with William Nylander.

4 months and 21 days of coffee dates, casual walks with his dogs, takeout dinners at his place, passionate, mind-blowing sex, and lazy mornings after his hockey games.

Everything appeared to be flawless – perhaps a bit too flawless.

In many ways, William stood out from your past partners; with him there was no need for pretence or maintaining a perfect front. With him, you could freely express your unique quirks and be completely yourself without hesitation.

But despite your fondness for his relaxed, natural manner, you couldn't help but notice his reluctance to delve into deep feelings or the core of your relationship.

While he'd whisper sweet nothings and lend an ear on your tougher days, he always seemed to be so composed and laid-back about everything.

And it was slowly starting to grate on your nerves.

_

Initially, you found it incredibly endearing and delightful to be in his company. His ability to shrug things off, whether it was a tough loss, a call from his brother about having a rough day, or even the chaotic traffic lately, impressed you.

"If the traffic's bad, I'll just take the subway," he'd casually remark when you'd urge him to hurry up to avoid being late again.

Or he'd say, "Yeah, it sucked that we lost, but we'll do better next time," after a defeat.

His attitude puzzled you, but in a way, you also found it incredibly amazing.

However, as your relationship with this man deepened, his seemingly calm and relaxed demeanour started feeling a bit too complacent. And now, you found yourself wanting a little clarity about your relationship.

Did it genuinely go beyond mere passing time, something romantic perhaps, or were you simply someone he enjoyed spending time with whenever he felt like it?

Undoubtedly, William was amazing. Yet, the more time you spent together, the more it seemed like this situation was somewhat one-sided.

You knew your feelings ran deep for him, so you opted to give it a bit more time, hoping he'd eventually open up.

And as the partner you wanted to portray, you agreed to accompany him to a team event.

_

The evening was meant to be a celebration, a tribute to their team's triumph.

And amid mingling with other teammates and their partners, William wore his usual bright grin and cheerful demeanour. His laughter filled the room as always, and as usual, you put on a smile and stood by his side.

At first, your concerns eased a bit when he kept an arm around your waist while engaging with managers and other club supporters.

However, as the night wore on, his touch and attention seemed to drift away, and you felt a deep stinge of disappointment.

And by your third glass of champagne, you found yourself without your date, chatting with a few of the team members' girlfriends and wives. Luckily, you had a close bond with the girls, yet your attention was drawn to something across the room – William engaging in his always so casual chatter with a small group, including a striking lady who eyed him with a certain longing, much like you would have done.

And as William didn't appear to shy away from her flirtatious gestures, your suspicions were validated.

So, with a soft sigh and a swift glance at your glass, you hastily finished your drink before slowly making your way over to William.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts as you approached him.

"Hey," you gently said, offering a friendly smile. "I'm sorry, but I think I'd like to head home. You can just stay; I'll get a taxi."

William appeared puzzled by your words, but before he could respond, you swiftly exited the venue and headed towards the cloakroom.

And as you walked away, a part of you hoped he'd follow, while another part desperately needed to escape the situation as soon as possible.

But despite your determined strides to leave, William quickly caught up to you.

"Hey," he said firmly, grasping your wrist as you were about to reach for your coat. "What's wrong?"

His expression showed genuine concern at your sudden change in behaviour, his breaths becoming uneven. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, and all he felt was his heart sinking as he noticed tears welling up in your eyes.

"Will, I can't do this..." you attempted to sound confident, but your voice quivered while maintaining eye contact.

"You can’t do what, y/n? What's going on?" His confusion was evident, and you couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. How was he this oblivious to his own actions?

"I can't continue like this; I have strong feelings for you," you wanted to yell, but you kept your voice low, trying to avoid any unnecessary drama. "I thought I was more than just a fling, but it seems you don't want to be more, and I'm sorry, but I can't keep going like this..."

"What are you talking about?" William's voice rose in frustration.

He was getting slightly irked by your accusations, yet genuinely confused about what you were getting at.

"You are more than a fling!" he almost shouted.

"Then why do you always act like I’m not and like you don't fucking care about me at all?" Now you were shouting. “You always have to act so fucking cool and tough, and I can’t take it anymore – either you’re sure about us, or you’re not!”

William, his usual calm façade shattered, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

That was when it happened.

As you’d said the words, he could feel his pulse racing, his heartbeat quacking, and his unusual temper about to burst.

You thought he didn’t care…

"God, why can't you see? Shit!" He snapped, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic urgency, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I'm just... doing this without thinking! I'm not here for a fling, for fuck’s sake! I’m just not good at this, ok!"

You froze, surprised at the outburst, his words striking a chord within you. It was the first time you’d seen him lose his cool, the raw vulnerability in his eyes contrasting sharply with his usual easy-going nature.

"You think I don't care? That I'm not sure about us?" His frustration seeped through every word. Of course, he was sure about you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have held onto you like this. That wasn't his way. "I might not say it every fucking minute, but I am sure about you. It's just... I thought you knew."

Wait, what?

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. His frustration was not because of you walking away from the event or from him, but because he'd failed to express the depth of his feelings, assuming you understood without him needing to spell it out.

To him, you were everything he'd ever longed for. He'd never met anyone like you, never formed such an instant connection with anyone before.

From the moment he had laid eyes on you, you’d walked straight into his heart. And he had been set on keeping you close ever since. You had become his anchor, the true reason to how he always felt so calm and composed – knowing he had you by his side.

But he had failed. Failed to express just how much you meant to him. And now, here he stood, raising his voice at you, feeling the weight of his heartache.

Seeing you in distress tore him apart. The tears pooling in your eyes and the belief that he didn't care about you pained him deeply.

No. This wasn't right.

Releasing a deep sigh, the tension drained from his shoulders. "I should have said it more. I know… I should have made it clearer – how I felt about you."

Gradually, a sense of relief washed over you as you sensed the authenticity in his expression. And it was becoming clear to you that he struggled with verbalizing his emotions, preferring to express himself through a physical love language.

Furrowing your eyebrows in concern, you let out a deep sigh as well.

"Yeah, you should have," you spoke softly, before surrendering to the impulse, taking a step closer and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in a deep kiss.

His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he reciprocated the intensity of the kiss, fully immersed in the moment.

In that instance, a surge of emotions overwhelmed both of you, drawing you into a heated moment. Gradually, you took a few steps back, retreating deeper into the cloakroom, where William slid his hands beneath your lower back, prompting you to jump, wrapping your legs around his waist.

The kiss intensified, tongues intertwining passionately as he pressed you against the wall, your hands gently cupping his face. You surrendered to the flood of emotions, finally letting go and embracing the feelings you were both openly expressing.

As the passionate kiss escalated, you could feel your bodies heated up, your hands entwining in his semi-long blonde locks, craving for more than just the connection of your lips.

Breaking the intense kiss, both of you were left breathless, needing a moment to recover.

“Willy, take me home,” you whispered, foreheads pressed together. And your wish was his command.

[effervescentdragon]

I loove in the reflection, WHy did you get bad comments ? Are people mad?

Alright so I've been thinking since last night whether or not to answer this, but I got a comment this morning that cemented the decision for me, because I want to explain what I mean and you asked very nicely.

First of all, thank you for your kind words, im super happy you like my writing! That makes me genuinely happy, because when I write, I write so I can bring at least a piece of joy I feel while writing to the people who are reading my works.

Thats very kind of you to ask about the comments, too, and here we go.

When I said i got bad comments, i did not mean outright hate or "your writing sucks". That is obviously not true and wouldn't impact me, plus, only registered users can comment on my fics and people are much less inclined to be hateful when not on anon. It was comments like these:

These were left on a couple of my wips, and there are more like this but these are the first two i could find. These comments are bad in a sense that they are entitled, demoralising, and prone to make me much less inclined to write anything any time soon.

Writers and authors live on feedback. We feed on it and there is nothing that makes us happier than knowing that people enjoy our work. When the readers tell us this, it genuinely feels like we are on top of the world. A simple heart emoji in the comments is enough to make my day, and not to speak of in-depth analyses that I cherish with my whole being and re-read every time I'm in a slump or need a pick-me-up. All these comments, short and long, are inspiring and make me want to write more. People discussing my fics with me makes me want to write more. Anyone saying "this brought me joy" makes me want to write more and give more joy out in the universe. The loop is neverending.

However, comments like these have the exact opposite effect. I (and other fanfiction writers, but let me talk about me here, and my writer friends may add whatever they want, if they are so inclined) do this for free. I do this in my free time for the sheer joy of sharing a story in my head. I write for myself and for the story I'm telling, but I appreciate knowing that that story brought someone joy, or relief, or a way to put names to the feelings they may be feeling. What I do not appreciate is being made to feel like I am a content producing machine. What I don't appreciate is demands for updates cloaked in seemingly harmless compliments that really aren't that. I "forced you to leave a comment"? What does that mean? "My heart dropped when I saw [this was a wip]"? Why do you project your feelings on me? Why do you think I would be flattered that you left a comment that is, at its basis, just a demand for more content? I am taking these in as good faith as I can, but impact always trumps intent, and the impact of these comments on me personally is "I don't want to write anything in these universes again".

Fic writing is a community. It's a two way relationship between writers and readers, and, like any ecosystem, it thrives on mutual recognition and appreciation. I do not feel appreciated when I get a comment like this. I feel guilty for not writing, which is insane since I am and adult person with a full life who does this for fun and for free. I feel angry, because it makes me feel like I should be putting out 20k works every other day to stay "relevant", and what does that relevance even mean? I've been writing fics for years. AO3 is an archive. It's not an algortihm driven site that favours only new "content". I read fics from 2009 and comment regularly, because that's how an archive and fandom works. It's not tiktok, it's not instagram. So I refuse to bow to the demand of "write something new immediately or basically fuck you". It makes me feel disheartened, because I am a writer, and I hold myself to a certain standard, and a good story takes time.

Now don't get me wrong. For every one of these comments I get at least two lovely ones. And I focus on those because they are the ones that give me inspiration and joy. But I am also human, and sometimes, I am so fucking tired, and I can't just ignore this.

Did you know, well, you didn't, you can't, but I'll tell you anyways. I have been itching to write lately but I never got the time, and so I cleared up my day today to deal with some administrative things I need to do in rl and left the rest of the day free for myself to write? I thought I might finally finish this one chapter of a wip I've been writing on and off. And then I wake up to a comment like the ones above, and guess what? I'm not writing shit :) all my inpiration flew out of the window and burned in the heat of this obscene summer, and that's it. That's what these kinds of comments do. That's why I call them bad. Because they are bad.

I am lucky to have faith in my skills as a writer, so I am not worried about that. I know I am a comparatively good writer, and I personally like the things I write. But I wonder what comments like these do to people who are less certain and more insecure in their writing skills? I wonder how it impacts them? I wonder how many people stopped writing because they couldn't cope with the guilt and the pressure these kinds of comments produce?

So there. That's my answer. And I want it stated clearly that I didn't post these comments to call anyone out personally. I posted them because I needed to show them as examples and to explain and maybe make some people understand what your thoughtlessness and entitlement does. Food for thought, innit?

[otakusheep15]

Obey Me Flufftober Day 9

Prompt: Games

Pairing: Barbatos x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 434

A/n: Barbatos my beloved! I love writing for this demon, but I also lowkey suck at it lol. Still, I think this prompt will be fun for him.

While Barbatos was not usually one to take breaks, he tended to be weak-willed when it came to your requests. So, when you request him to take some time off so you two can spend some time together, who is he to refuse you? Plus, he knows how much Diavolo wants him to relax, so it was surprisingly easy to get him to agree.

Since this was meant to be a relaxing break, you decided on a simple activity that would not require much effort: board games. You knew Barbatos was smart, and you knew he enjoyed strategy games, so you thought this would be perfect for him. Also, the image of Barbatos playing a human world board game made you laugh, so this was a win for you as well.

As expected, Barbatos is quite good at any and all games you introduce to him. You don't mind losing because seeing Barbatos happy is all you need right now. You're glad to see him relaxed and enjoying himself. You found that, after a multitude of board games, he seemed to particularly enjoy long-term games such as Monopoly and The Game of Life. You guessed it also had something to do with them being long-term strategy games, but he wouldn't specify an actual reason himself.

Still, playing with him was fun. He also never once mentioned having responsibilities to take care of, so he's either so genuinely invested in the games that he forgot (unlikely) or he's just purposefully not mentioning his many responsibilities for your sake (likely). Either way, you were not complaining. You got to spend quality time with Barbatos while playing your favorite games, so you were fully satisfied.

It's a simple, mundane date, but it's perfect for you. It almost feels domestic in a way, like you're a normal couple having a casual game night. It's sweet, although you don't mention your thoughts aloud. You're sure he knows what you're thinking regardless.

After beating you at yet another game, Barbatos decides that you've played for long enough. You're about to complain about him going back to work, but then he reassures you that's not the case. Instead, he points out the fact that you've spent the entire day together playing games, and it's getting rather late. How could you argue with that? You want to, but you know you can't.

Barbatos also reassures you that he would love to do this again sometime. Perhaps he'll introduce you to some Devildom exclusive games. You could barely contain your excitement at the prospect of another board game date, much to Barbatos's delight.

[azrielgreen]

I could really use some advice if you're feeling up to it. I have been writing for a little over a year now. I hadn't written for fun since middle school probably. I genuinely have a lot of fun planning and writing and get excited about new ideas but lately more and more I've been have more moments of feeling like I'm horrible at it. I want to just do it because I enjoy it and it's a way to cope sometimes but the thoughts are still there. I can't help but look at the stats for the things I've put out there and number of hits versus kudos doesn't really help, like 95% of those don't leave kudos. I don't want to care about the stats, I want to just do it for fun but I'm feeling a bit discouraged. I almost deleted 30k/3 months of work because I just felt like everything I've done sucks. Thankfully a friend talked me down. I know I'm always going to be harder on myself than anyone else but it's still hard. Any advice so I can keep doing something I enjoy without letting it have that negative effect on me at the same time?

Thank you in advance 💜

Hello, lovely. Firstly, I'm so sorry you're feeling that way. Writing can be really lonely and self doubt creeps in through the cracks, so it feels natural to compare and check stats, but my god is that NOT an accurate reflection of anything resembling success/talent. Sometimes I really wish AO3 wouldn't publicly show things like hits/kudos/comments or at least give people the option to hide them if they wanted. Those numbers are tremendously distorted and will never accurately reflect what self doubt drives us to seek out.

At heart, you have the right outlook 100%. Writing for yourself is always the true path and if you follow your joy, you'll never go wrong but I think something I've noticed over the last year in fandom is how people have become quite bitter over stats and numbers, obsessive even, declaring something a "flop" if it didn't get certain numbers/likes/kudos etc... and that is just a recipe for fucking disaster. It's really hard to write something and work on it while wondering if anyone will even read it, so I do totally understand that doubt, BUT.

One thing I will say that I hope is heard by those who need it: FUCK THE STATS. They are no true indication of anything, are insanely warped over time and I do think that at this point the Steddie is oversaturated. It will always have a strong readership because it's a massively mainstream pairing in a hit show and there will be an upswing when SE5 drops (not that I'll be watching, fuck you Noah) but I think that people have to understand there is no level basis of comparison for numbers and that everything you see now is skewed by time or people using socials to market and plug their fics, driving traffic.

The attention is diminishing. All energy is cyclical, it ebbs and flows. It's been two years, people aren't reading like they were in 2022.

So, my advice to you. Don't write for other people. Don't write for popularity, numbers, relevance or praise because there is no consistent way to reliably ensure the attainment of such things in a fandom. Write for YOU and only you. You will always be your own biggest fan, so make THEM happy first and foremost and then if anyone else enjoys it, bonus. Your art is coming out through your passion, your stories are born through curiosity and creativity and they will be NEEDED by someone. Maybe not the day you post, maybe not a year after but one day, someone will find it and love it so much and it will save them.

Not to be all "back in the good old days" but I think often about a very formative and impactful fic I read which was already complete by the time I found it, it had been for years and I never got to follow & comment weekly encouragement at the time. The fic was extremely niche and controversial. It changed me as a person and I'm grateful every day the writer pushed on and completed it because I needed it so much and it was waiting for me. I think sometimes the social aspects of fandom are a real distraction from the core pull of what we are driven by as writers; creation. I think fandom was never meant to be this visible or socially accessible and comparison wrecks many people's confidence.

Those numbers are fucked, cooked or legacy. Ignore them.

In ten years, when someone is having the worst night of their life and they get on AO3, and they find your stuff that you posted, shared and created, it will be their shining light. Keep going, be brave, explore. Make a bubble for yourself with ONLY obsessively positive interiors where you create and trust that THIS THING is the greatest thing you've ever made and then move onto the next.

Writing is incredibly difficult for numerous reasons and I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who devote their time, energy and effort to it the way fic writers do. Self doubt is common, no matter how much people project success.

You're doing great. Fuck the numbers. Focus on yourself.

💜💜💜

[aliusfrater]

how would you rank sams deaths???

ranked from favourite to least-liked:

2.21 the absolute shock and following uncertainty is so yummy. it's the only death that i had ever felt any 'absolute' feeling for and it gives it so much weight. i also really like how quietly sam goes and how he slips into how dean babies him following his ressurection despite not initially knowing that he died, but knowing that something did go wrong in terms of his stabbing. the implications re: the cycle of abuse and a lot of dean's lines in his monologue when it comes to sam and dean's relationship are incredibly intriguing.

13.21 i LOVE how messy it is, how vulnerable sam is the entire time. it's very erotic in a similar way to every other time he was metaphorically raped through physical violence, but i'm making specific mirroring reference to 4.19. i like how that eroticism leads into lucifer's ressurection, and i mean, it thematically tracks for what their relationship is. also the make-up and jared's performance absolutely rules. i also really, really enjoy the palpable feeling of dean's grief and how the sudden nature of sam's death just strips him clean of his facade in a way that makes it feel like he's flayed raw in front of you. sam screaming for dean despite knowing dean can't do anything; he can't help but call for him regardless etc etc. UGH. i almost put this one over 2.21 because it's genuinely fantastic to me and it's such a pivotal moment for the implications of his and lucifer's as well as his and jack's relationship but as usual the later seasons don't give much credit to sam's character, and the implied scene that involves some level of recognition between sam and his literal death (re: his change of clothes) isn't seen by the audience.

5.22 the scene speaks for itself. the acting, the montage, the writing etc etc are all fantastic. it's only ranked this lowly because 1) the special effects of sam falling and burning in hell sucked ass and ruined my immersion, 2) the fandom made the aftermath of the scene into a dstiel thing which also ruined the longevity of the scene's impact on me, 3) the episode feels very rushed and tried to fit in so freakin' much, and 4) the fact that it isn't a permanent death also lessens its impact; i generally think season five is the first indication of some kind of lessening in the show's quality and i think they could have done much better if they knew they'd be getting a sixth season earlier on. i would have honestly ranked it lower if it didn't have that huge emotional impact.

14.17 the implicationsssss !! re: nick's resentment for sam, sam's last words, dean's reaction to his death and resurrection. to me, this episode is feels really well done and the drama is so well paced that your throat closes up about it, even after so many deaths. it feels reminiscent of the moment that sam dies in 2.21, where logically you know he'll be fine, but there's just a weight to it. jared is really good at dying.

5.13 because 1) i'm a pervert for the way sam's blood leaks out of that tube of metal as he goes pale, and 2) "first...we talk. then i fix your darling little Sammy." capital S.

15.20 underwhelming in a healing way. i have a lot of thoughts about the execution of the episode but i've generally come around to enjoying picking it apart and connecting certain dots as it is. the same goes for sam's death. it's just pretty uneventful in a way i can't be a pervert about, which is why it's so low, but the only reason it isn't lower is because it did make me emotional (positive). also, fun fact: it's one of the very few natural deaths on supernatural and it's the only natural death to occur withinin the winchester family that we see on screen.

5.16 not played up/emphasised/voyeuristic in any satisfying way that sets it apart because it's essentially the teaser and set-up for the episode. i did like seeing sam get shot point-blank though :3

4.08 comedic to a point where it almost annoys me but the fact that it annoys me makes it kind of camp, which cancels out the fact that i feel annoyed. it does make sam a victim-to-be-saved of the supernatural Thing of the week, which does subtly place him within the damsel in distress role. which is something i greatly enjoy.

12.09 almost indifferent about it. it serves a purpose. i like that sam and dean die at the same time in a situation where the audience watches people behold the unfolding of events. i could also generate commentary about sam and dean vs the military personnel's place within the structures of hunting vs the military much like the dean-cole narrative dynamic.

aaand:

non-canonical deaths this refers to sam being blown up in ava's vision in 2.10 as well as sam's season fifteen's godbullet wound au visions. i LOVED sam's 2.10 death scene. it's technically the most graphic one and i fucking loved that we got to see him blow up, then see bits of him scatter around the room. he should have had more death scenes like it. i haven't seen season fifteen in its entirety since my first watch of the show in late april/early may but from what i do remember, i remember being annoyed that 1) it was all happening in the bunker, and 2) the scenes as they played out weren't nearly as dramatic as they could've been. it was really obvious that they were being torn at the seams in every aspect of the show; no one was being given the opportunity to stretch their legs.