#and nobody cares about your career writing fiction.

[edwardseymour]

[viennakarma]

The Lucky One

Part 1 (of 2) | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). Let me know in the comments if you wanna be tagged for part 2. Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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You knew from an early age that charisma could conquer the world, it was a relatively easy taught lesson back in your early karting days. Mum sat you down one day in karting, showing two other kids around. One sitting alone, quietly twinkling with his go-kart, you knew him, Jamie-something, one of the best kids in karting, and you always had fun battles with him, but he was a bit of an odd one out. The other kid mum pointed at was Nick, loud, funny and popular… not that good at karting but a really smart talker. And it showed as he was surrounded by adults and other kids, every bit of attention on him.

You were around 11 when your mum pointed out the difference between the two kids.

“What is different about them, darling?” Mum asked you.

“Jamie is alone… And Nick is surrounded by people.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, Mama…” You said, scratching your brain to try and reply.

“Jamie is not very good with people, right? He’s a bit of an introvert…” Your mum said, quite somberly, “And Nick, he’s charismatic, see how he manages to grab everyone's attention?” As you nodded, your mum kept talking, “There are greater chances of Nick making far in motorsports, rather than Jamie.”

“But it’s not fair! Jamie is much better…”

“I know, darling… But you’ll see that motorsports is not fair at all. And unfortunately, if you really want to go far in this career, you’ll have to do everything they want and more. Being a good driver won’t be enough.”

“Why not, mama?” You asked, pouting.

“Because everybody loves pretty and everybody loves cool.”

-

Over the next few years of your teens, you learned to adapt, not only in karting, then single seaters, then Formula categories, not only as a driver, but as a person. You were fun, charming, and after a few years, it came to you easily. Laugh at his joke, that’s a sponsor. Smile at the journalists and they’ll write you as the future of motorsport. Be funny, but not too funny to the point they won’t take you seriously. Smile, but not too much so they don’t think you’re flirting. Be smart about your sport, but not too smart so they won’t feel emasculated. Take good care of your career and your every step, but don’t let them know so they won’t call you manipulative. Never be angry, never lash out, never be curt.

Nobody ever thought about you as a carefully crafted person, because even that was planned out. No one called you fake. They always thought you were that person: funny, smart and pretty like a 60’s queen.

You made it to Formula 1 at the age 23, a little late but you had accounted for that, being a woman and all. You were a damn good driver, but really it was your charm that put you there. You knew that your presence was good PR for the Federation. Look how inclusive we are!

After substituting a driver twice in the 2014 season, you were signed in 2015 for Toro Rosso, rookie you and rookie Max Verstappen, who was much younger than you. You and him got along well, but you couldn’t help but think how he got the chance to join Formula 1 much younger than you, having had almost the same career path in earlier categories. The only difference? You were a woman.

But you didn’t let that outshine your happiness of making it to Formula 1.

Soon you got in everyone’s good graces, charming your way through motorsports like you had been doing your whole career. Your first ever race as an official driver on the grid, there was this sense of relief, of making it to the ultimate dream. All that you had endured was worth it in that glorious moment.

You managed a little friendship with most drivers, getting to chat with them despite your rivalry on the track. You end up getting two podiums that season, brilliantly going down in history.

Well into your first official season, somehow the nickname “Principessa” caught on after an Italian newspaper wrote a praiseful cover article about how you managed to be classy and talented in your rookie year at Toro Rosso.

Life was a dream come true all the way to 2016, when you realized, Sebastian Vettel didn’t like you much. You thought it was just a distance thing, since you two weren’t used to talking that much. Until you overheard him talking about you with Nico, one of the drivers he was always talking to.

“I’m just not really interested…” Sebastian sounded reluctant.

“She’s really nice once you get to chat with her,” Nico said, as you hid behind a pile of tyres, “Vivian adores her, she even sent her a basket of goodies because of the pregnancy.”

“I understand. But me and her don’t click,” Sebastian mumbled, sounding annoyed.

“And why not?”

“She’s fake. A perfect PR doll, and I don’t like it.”

There was a long silence from Nico, probably shocked at the sudden harshness of Sebastian’s towards someone he had barely opened up to meet. You stood there frozen for a couple of seconds, not understanding his aversion to you.

Snapping out of it, you silently walked away without them noticing you were ever there. You couldn’t believe how, or why Sebastian could see right through you, how he could say that stuff when he had barely talked to you. But worst of all, you couldn’t understand his aversion to you, being against you.

“Having a quiet day?” Nico asked later that day, at the drivers parade as you stood a bit quieter than usual, still in your head about Sebastian’s words.

“Oh, no! Just a bit hungry!” You lied with a believable smile, “How’s Vivian?” You decided to change the subject.

Later that year, you had a great, almost competitive car, which had taken you to P3 in the championship standings, with a real, consistent chance of fighting for the championship.

Unfortunately for you, after the fourth to last race of the season, one race you had finished first place, you and part of your team were called in to talk with the representatives of the FIA because of an irregular part of your car. It was a minimal part of the livery that connected with the air vents, they said it was irregular, and despite the team showing proof that you had gained no advantage out of that, you were still punished with disqualification from that race.

It wasn’t just the problem of being DSQ, but not making points in that race meant you were out of the fight for the championship.

It felt like a punch in the face. Unjustifiable and an arbitrary decision.

After that disqualification, that came out right after the race had ended, Sebastian was the one to inherit that win, and a small part of him wanted to check on you, just because those kinds of disqualifications were a blow to the confidence of a driver.

Sebastian walked into your driver’s room and the first thing he noticed were the objects thrown around on the floor, a flipped table and chair. Chess pieces and boards on the floor, along with water bottles and towels, he looked around and you were sitting in a corner, on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you tried to wipe them with trembling hands, but the tears kept coming down.

It sent Sebastian into some sort of shock, he knew you for around three years now, and he had never seen you cry, or be angry, or even annoyed. You were always happy and bubbly… And now… It was like you were someone else, so painfully real, multifaceted for the first time.

“Hey… you-” He wasn’t even sure of what to say.

“They took my chances from me…” You said, voice trembling and a fresh stream of tears, “they did it on purpose. They did it to keep me where I am, to keep me on a leash, to not let me become a World Champion.”

“I’m so sorry…” He knelt down by your side, unsure of what to do or say.

“I did everything right. Played by their rules. I smiled, and I danced like a circus monkey, and I clapped even when I shouldn’t… I took it silently even when they threw spears at my chest. I swallowed my pride countless times to be here. I did everything right…” You knew you were rambling, to someone who probably didn’t even like you, but you couldn’t stop, the burning rage that brought tears to your eyes was stronger than anything you ever felt.

Sebastian didn’t know what to say, too shocked by the view of the real you that he could barely wrap his head around it. There was anger in your eyes, sadness, but somewhat a sprinkle of despair too. So he did the only thing his mind could think of, he hugged you. A little awkwardly, but a hug nonetheless. He felt your tears dampening his shirt, your hands fisting the material as if you were drowning and he was the only lifebuoy left. The sobs rocked your shaky frame and he held you for a long time, until someone from the team came to check on you. Then Sebastian hesitantly let go of you, despite your fingers still gripping his shirt, he pulled back, astonished.

As he left, stunned, he couldn’t even remember the reason he had gone there in the first place.

You only saw Sebastian again, the following race weekend, during media day. You were sitting on a box, drinking some water, your legs dangling in the air. You looked like you always did, bubbly, content, hair in place, light makeup…

Despite everything, and the memories being a little blurry, you didn’t forget what Sebastian had done for you. But even though the support was nice at the time, you couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of shame and embarrassment for what he had witnessed. Your mask had slipped, and you didn’t know how to proceed in this new, unknown territory.

In the end, you opted for deflection.

“Hey,” Sebastian approached you, looking slightly worried, “how…” he cleared his throat, “how have you been?” There was a silent question there, a silent approach to everything that had transpired the other day.

“Hi? Yeah, I’m alright, thanks!” You said with a bright smile, but now Sebastian could see it never reached your eyes. You hopped off the box you were sitting on, starting to walk away.

“Um- about the other day…?” Sebastian tried to breach the subject, unsure of how you would react.

“Oh, that? It was silly, just forget about it!” You kept smiling, your voice was cheerful, but your eyes betrayed that. You kept walking away, eating fruits and Sebastian ran up to you again, confused about you brushing under the rug something that was a pretty big deal.

“No, uh- how-” He wanted to think of something to say, but your smile dimmed a little bit as you looked at him.

“Let’s forget about that. And please don’t pity me.” You said with that same frozen smile and Sebastian frowned. He wasn’t pitying you, he was genuinely worried about that.

You walked away before he could say anything else. He was shocked at you dismissing so easily a full blown breakdown you had the week before. He had spent days thinking about you, not because he enjoyed any of it, he didn’t, but because he saw you for the first time. The real you. The ugly and painful parts, but it was so, so genuine, he knew that was the real you, with an honest reaction to something that hurt and upset you. He saw something he had never seen in you before, and he couldn’t get that version of you out of his head.

It was obvious you didn’t want to talk about that, or even address it. And Sebastian wasn’t going to press for answers, because in the end, he didn’t even like you particularly. He didn’t. And in the media pen, when a reporter asked you about the penalty that took you out of the championship competition, you smiled politely.

“Oh, I believe the FIA did the right thing, if I was accidentally irregular, that’s what should have been done. No complaints on my part or on behalf of my team,” You said into the mic, seeing in their faces that no one expected that response. Sebastian kept staring at you, in disbelief.

“Well, I for one,” Sebastian said after a few shocked seconds, “think that her disqualification was bullshit.”

The room burst out laughing, even you. A fake laugh, but since no one could tell, it was still a laugh. Saving your tears for some other time, alone and quiet, away from prying eyes.

Despite everything, you and Sebastian didn’t become closer, but in some way he just decided to open up to you a little bit more, as opposed to what he had been doing these past few years. He still wasn’t a friend or a close acquaintance, but he was less closed off and less short towards you. There was a silent acknowledgement of each other in public settings, a quiet nod or polite smile here and there.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he was about to leave the hotel to go to a dinner during the week of the Malaysian GP, when he got into the elevator and as he got to the first floor, you stumbled into the small space, reeking of alcohol and makeup a little smeared. He called your name, in such shock he forgot to hop out and the elevator started going up again.

“What,” You said, holding yourself steady against the elevator wall. Sebastian was shocked, that was another facet of you, raw and belling with the persona you usually sold the world.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the elevator stopping on your floor.

“I’m fine,” you said, stumbling out of the elevator in your high heels, Sebastian couldn’t help but also step out, grabbing your arm to steady you, “I said I’m fine!” You said, drunkenly stomping your foot.

“No, you’re not. Come on, give me your key.” Sebastian said, with a voice that left no space for arguing. 

You tried to be stubborn, but he just grabbed your purse and started fumbling with it until he grabbed your key-card. Holding your arm, he guided you to your hotel suite. Once inside, he placed you sitting on an armchair, and as he knelt in front of you to remove your shoes, you plopped back against the backrest.

“No, no,” he said, tossing your heels away and pulling your arms so you’d sit up straight, “No sleeping yet, come on. I didn’t pick you for a drinker.”

“And I didn’t pick you for a nosy asshole” You snapped back.

“Well, well, well, isn’t motorsports’ favorite doll hiding a foul mouth?” He said, holding you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Well, isn’t that what you are? We both know the truth, Principessa.” There was some bitterness to the way he said the nickname. You were not particularly fond of the nickname either, but the way he said it, with disgust, it rubbed you the wrong way.

“Why are you here?” You asked slowly.

“Why are you hammered on a Tuesday night?” He held you up, putting you on your feet and calmly leading you to the bathroom.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together at your deflection, deep down he knew. More than anyone he knew you were just pretending to be okay with being taken out of the fight for the championship. He knew you were hurting. He also wanted to tell you that wasn’t the way to go about it, but at the end of the day, you two weren’t really close.

“Get in the shower. Cold.” He said, walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind himself.

He could hear the sound of the water running, so he went to the phone and ordered soup and tea from room service. He sat down on the armchair, somewhat worried about you. He had gone through that before, but he was also four times world champion, compared to you who was just in your second year, losing the opportunity to fight for the championship for a mistake that wasn’t yours and that was completely out of your hands.

You left the bathroom dressed in a fluffy robe, face clean off of remnants of makeup. But your eyes were puffy and red, and he wondered if you were crying in the shower. He didn’t ask.

“Since you look a little more sober, I’m going. Room service will bring you something to eat and something non-alcoholic to drink.”

You sat on the couch opposite to him, feeling a little better and a bit more sober. You watched as he got up, his blue eyes never leaving yours. You had many questions. But the most important one was why he was there. Why was he taking care of you? You knew he didn’t like you, he knew you knew it too. Before you could ask any of it, he walked towards the door.

“Thank you,” You mumbled. He only nodded, not bothering to look back at you. It was a quiet murmur, but some part of you hoped he knew that thank you wasn’t about just this instance, but also the time he consoled you when no one else did.

The rest of the season, you managed to get ahold of yourself since you knew, keeping wallowing in self pity would get you nowhere. So you focused on finishing the season better. Sebastian and you also didn’t grow particularly close in the following months, despite sometimes meeting his eyes across the room. There was always this underlying tension between you, like two people that knew a secret but swore to not talk about it.

During the Prize Giving Ceremony, you were mingling with some drivers, members of the team and from the FIA. You were known for being the life of the party, usually a social butterfly, always making connections and meeting new people.

But then, you made a small pause to grab a drink and some air, sitting down on a bench, when Sebastian made his way to you, a somewhat bright smile directed to you as he crossed the room. It was the first time he had ever directed that kind of smile to you. He looked like he had drunk a little bit.

“You look tipsy,” You pointed out as soon as he stopped before you. He grinned.

“High quality champagne,” Sebastian replied, sitting on the bench beside you, raising his flute for a toast. You replied by clicking your flute against his.

You two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the party in full swing.

“You’re back to your old self,” Sebastian pointed out, suddenly. But it didn’t sound like a compliment nor a critique. So you didn’t reply, unsure of what he meant.

“Well, we all do what we gotta do,” You shrugged gently, with a small smile as you turned to face him and his bright blue eyes were already on your face.

“But, you know, it’s good to remember you’re very lucky to be here,” he said.

His words made you stop, your smile fading and that almost accomplice glinting in your eyes completely disappeared. And Sebastian frowned confused, seeing the way you put up your walls again, back to the frozen, fake smile you usually gave the media.

Lucky. You hated that word. You hated how everyone used to say you got lucky to be there. You got lucky to get into Formula 1. You got lucky to be a successful driver. Rarely did anyone mention the efforts you had to put into becoming that. The early mornings training, the absurd amount of time and distance away from your family. All the metaphorical slaps you had to endure with a straight face. Then you realized, Sebastian saw you just the way everyone else saw you. You were lucky, your spot was a gift not the consequence of your efforts.

And Sebastian noticed the shift in your expression in that very moment. He hadn’t meant to offend, and he wasn’t even sure why his words had ticked you off, but he could see. He was probably the only one in that whole room who could tell the real you from your persona, mostly due to the fact that he had seen the real you a couple of times.

“Princess, I-” He started again, but you cut him off.

“Don’t.”

He watched as you stood up, gave him a polite smile and a nod, before sauntering away.

The following year, your car was improved, and even better than the year before, you were up there in the stands, and after a third of the season, you and the team knew you were a contender for the championship. You did everything in your power to be the world champion that year. Your main competitor was Lewis Hamilton. Somehow, despite the fierce battles on track, you two managed to maintain a certain level of respect outside it. Probably because you two were different kinds of minority in that sport, or because he had learned a lesson with how everything had come down with Rosberg. Funnily enough, you two had managed a somewhat friendship that very year.

You and Sebastian, on the other hand, grew more distant than ever, and you barely spoke that year. You two kept this cold, polite façade in front of the media and other drivers.

Battle after battle, the media pressure only grew on your shoulders, you weren’t just a pretty face for the sponsors to plaster your face around, you showed a real driver existed behind that persona. And it pissed some people off, just because now you were a woman playing a big man’s sport. They nitpicked every mistake you made if you had made some, or they diminished your every win if you didn’t make a mistake. Because you were lucky. You were lucky that one time Vettel DNFed. You were lucky this one time Lewis Hamilton crashed out. You were lucky your tyres were better during some overtakes. You were lucky for that good pitstop.

When you became World Champion that year, during the Mexican GP, it had all been worth it to endure. The weight of the trophy in your hands, the way you hugged it to your chest in the top step of the podium, crying as the other drivers splashed you with champagne, that was the taste of the years of dedication paying off.

The celebrations were wild, the team, some of the other drivers, everyone congratulated you. You were at a nightclub, drink in hand when suddenly Sebastian Vettel appeared out of nowhere. You supposed all drivers were invited, but you didn’t expect him to actually show up.

He walked up at you, loose shirt, messy hair and flushed face. Biting his lip to hide a smile, that genuine smile he had given you only once since you met him. And Sebastian had never seen you so beautiful. He knew you were always pretty, like you were some sort of model, but in that moment, you looked genuinely happy, and the smile you could barely contain in your face made you even more stunning than you already were.

“Congratulations, Principessa,” He smiled, stopping beside you. At that moment, you didn’t even remember that you were ever upset with him, that you had barely spoken the whole season. He remembered very well that feeling of being champion, the relief and happiness.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about what I said last year. I never meant to diminish you. And later on I understood why you felt upset by it.” Sebastian said, firmly. It made you feel validated, and it was nice that he had realized on his own.

“It’s okay. It’s water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded, understanding. You both went back to the party. And later that night you two were dancing on the dance floor with some other people. You were not physically close, more like jumping up and down and singing, facing each other, laughing. But there was that spark in each other’s eyes again, like there was a funny secret you two were keeping.

That’s how you two ended up going to his hotel, sitting silently in the back of a car, the windows a bit rolled down and the fresh air of the night hitting your faces. This silent tension that had always been brewing reached a boiling point. None of you moved or said anything, afraid of breaking the spell even on the way up to his floor. But the moment you crossed the threshold of his hotel room, you tiptoed to him, kissing him. He kicked the door shut, one arm around your waist as he pulled up to his height so he could properly kiss you. The other hand on the back of your head, pressing you further into him as if he wanted to merge with you, his lips and tongue coaxing yours open, his kiss all tongue and teeth as if he was starved for you. You two stumbled inside, but Sebastian managed to keep you upright by pressing you against a small side table, while you two laughed at his clumsiness.

When he put you down again, he reached for the back of your tube dress, tugging the zipper down, but it got stuck and he muttered a curse, which made you laugh again against his neck.

“Sorry about this,” he said, before forcefully tugging the dress, which made it rip off, and the dress fell down, pooled at your feet, leaving you naked in only your panties and shoes. He took a moment to take in your figure, humming appreciatively.

You took a step forward, removing his shirt without a second thought, followed by you also fumbling with his belt. You two were giggling when finally all clothes were out of the way and Sebastian pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply before pushing you into the bed. His lips around your nipples as his hands teased your body, touching, groping, feeling the smoothness of your skin.

When he climbed up, holding your head so you would look at him while his fingers fucked you open, there was this deep sense of intimacy in his eyes as he watched you. Then finally, he got on top of you, holding one of your thighs up against his waist and he sank down, in one deep stroke as you two moaned. His movements were slow and hard, enjoying every little thing about you. The soft sounds you made, your dilated pupils, the way your cunt fluttered around him when he hit a particularly perfect spot.

It didn’t take you long to come, your hands around his waist, nails sinking into his back. After you did, he knelt back, pulling your legs up, ankles by his shoulders as he then went even faster with each thrust, your moans growing louder as you went careening into a second orgasm, and soon he followed behind you, biting on your ankle to muffle his groans.

“Damn…” He sighed, breathless as he plopped on the bed right beside you.

“Damn is right…” You laughed.

After that, you two got in the shower, kissing and making out like teenagers, until he bent you over the glass wall, fucking you again until you two came again, your back to his chest and his hand down your front to tease you clit.

When you two fell on the bed again, you were out like a light.

The following morning you woke up painfully early, his arms around you as you situated yourself, when you checked your phone, you realized you were late to catch your flight. So you carefully removed yourself from his arms without waking him up, stole some clothes from his suitcase since your dress was ruined, and left in a cab.

You didn’t speak about through the final two races of the season and not at all during winter break. A small part of you had expected him to say something about what had happened. You were not sure what.

As the new season started the following year, the underlying tension between you now had a new kind of meaning behind it. Since you couldn’t look at each other and not think of that night. Of his hands tightening on your ass, of your nails scratching his back.

You decided to leave it all behind, focusing on the season and trying to strike that second consecutive championship. It was hard, it wasn’t that your car was bad, per se, but it was unreliable. Sometimes you were about to win a race when it suddenly had some sort of malfunction or some kind of shut down that had you DNF a race you should’ve won. Despite that, you made the best of it, achieving a couple of podiums and eventually, your first win of the season.

That night, you met with Sebastian again, the first real conversation ever since what had happened the year before. 

“Congratulations on the win,” He said with a smile.

“You too, congrats on the win last week.”

And just as the first time, soon you two were wrapped around each other in the elevator, lost in a desperate kiss. Kisses and giggles as you made your way stumbling to your hotel room. This time, he had you bent over the bed, hands on the mattress as he knelt down eating you out for the life of him until you had come fisting the sheets, then he got up and fucked you from behind.

You two laid on the bed, breathless and with a thin layer of sweat as he pulled you closer, a palm over your stomach, tracing all dips and curves lazily.

“Here we are again,” Sebastian whispered, and you looked at his eyes, shining blue and flushed face.

“Seems like we keep coming back for more…” You pointed out, with a laugh.

He was about to say something when his phone rang, and he found his jeans and picked up the call. You just watched as he started speaking on the phone, quickly grabbing his clothes and starting to dress up again.

“I’m sorry,” He said after finishing the call, buttoning up his pants, “We have a photoshoot to do, and I had completely forgotten about it.”

“It’s fine,” You said, sitting up on the bed.

He paused for a moment, looking at you all naked and debauched on the bed, looking especially delicious. Sebastian wished at that moment he could have taken a picture to keep with him forever while you looked like a goddess. He just pecked your lips, deep and fast, before scurrying off. A stupid smile in both of your faces that you couldn’t see.

Weirdly enough, you didn’t talk about that again. It was like you were two different people in other settings, but back in the motorsport world, you had no opening or desire to be that two people that stole kisses in hotel rooms. But the silent glances were still there, a knowing look exchanged. You didn’t grow any closer out of those brief moments in space and time.

As the season progressed, you got a somewhat grip on the car, even reaching second place in the standings for the WDC.

Your encounters with Sebastian also kept happening, at least once a month. You didn’t talk much about the nature of your relationship, about what it meant, or why it kept happening. It felt like you two were always focused on making the most of the little time you had. One of you would always leave in the middle of the night or early in the morning, without waking up the other, like a silent agreement.

Still, you had a growing feeling that Sebastian didn’t like you outside those fleeting moments. And you knew that those things could happen, you could have great bed chemistry and still not be friends or not particularly be fond of someone. Just sex. It was what you told yourself every time you had to see him be cold and distant during race weeks. You couldn’t help but remember those few years back when he called you a perfect PR doll in a conversation. The harshness in his voice when he talked about you that day still haunted you sometimes.

It all came to a head after you won consecutively the three races in the triple header, and the media was eating that up. But unfortunately, Sebastian had two DNFs and a qualifying so awful that he only managed to finish the last race P8. During the following media day, which had both of you in the same panel, you were asked some questions regarding your recent wins and the perspective of the championship. After replying, there was a small scoff that Sebastian’s mic caught.

“Anything to add to her reply, Sebastian?” The journalist asked.

“No, nothing much…” Sebastian scoffed, “I mean, with Red Bull’s rocketship, winning is what’s expected of it, no?”

The words hit you like a punch, and it took a herculean effort to keep a straight face and seem unaffected. But the wave of silence and tension that followed was enough to show that everyone had caught that jab. Lewis even muttered a disappointed “man…” to Sebastian, away from the mic.

You didn’t look at Sebastian again during that conference, but at that point he could tell your real smile from the fake one. He could see the discreet clench of your jaw and he knew deep down that he had fucked up massively.

That’s why that weekend after the race, one you had placed P3, he went to your motorhome before leaving the paddock, knocking on the door quickly. He waited for you to open the door, hoping and praying you had not left yet. When you finally did, dressed in casual clothes, probably about to leave, he could see the surprise on your face that you had not expected to see him there. You looked around to check if anyone was seeing that before pulling him inside.

“What do you want? Be quick.” You said, finishing packing your bag and barely looking at him.

“I’m sorry about what I said during media day. That was fucked up.” He said, carefully.

“Oh, fuck off, Sebastian…” You scoffed, “we both know you just said what has always been on your mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned.

“Don’t play dumb now, Sebastian. Everyone knows. I know and so do you.”

“Know what?” He frowned, taking a step closer.

“That you hate me!” You exploded, turning to face him.

“Is that what you think?!” He asked, offended, “You think I’d have sex with someone I hate?”

“It never stopped anyone before…” You said, rolling your eyes, “Let’s be honest here. All the secrecy, all the never talking about it, never calling or texting before or after… I’m just the ‘Perfect Fake PR doll’  that you don’t like.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, Sebastian frowned, but after a few seconds he remembered that he had said those exact words about you, with such annoyance and disgust. That was farthest from the truth, and he couldn’t dare to repeat those words now that he had seen so many raw, genuine parts of you.

“Listen, I just…” He sighed, “I just hate all this fakeness you sell. All this acting and playing a part.”

“It is survival!”

“Survival?” He scoffed, not buying your words, “you pretend to be someone you’re not to appease the world.”

“You wouldn’t ever know what this is about, Sebastian. You’re Formula One’s dream man. You’re the straight white guy they want, the perfect image for motorsports. Be fucking real with me. Do you think if I had half the attitude you do, I’d be treated like you? No, I’d be ostracized,” You said, eyes shining in defensiveness, like he was the enemy you had to pretend to, “I will do what I can to stay here. I do what I can to still have a seat and a career here. Everything I do, is to be perfect, to appease the audience, the sponsors, the FIA, everything, and I still have to deal with misogyny. I still have to hear people saying I should go back to the kitchen. So no, I won’t change.” It was like a dam had broken and you had to put out everything you felt, every pain you had regarding that.

Sebastian sighed, scratching his head. He had fucked up even more, because it had never gone through his head any of that. He had never thought of the backlash you must face, being a woman, about the difficulties to fit, to be accepted in an environment heavily made of older white men that liked things to stay the way they were.

“You got to see the real me, I let myself be vulnerable and genuine with you. God knows the reason why you have seen me more than anyone else has. And you get out there with your full chest implying that I’m winning because of the car, when you know the car has been unreliable and I’m bending over backwards to make this shitbox win races…” Your voice was shaken but you refused to let him see you cry again. That had become ammo in his arsenal one time, you wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again.

“I…” He stuttered like he had just been hit with that knowledge, ashamed that he had never stopped to think about any of that.

“You can hate me all you want, Sebastian. You can tell me you’d rather me be genuine, but I need to wear armor. Out there? I’ll still be the PR Doll you like to call me if it means I get to stay.”

“Principessa, I’m just so-” He started but you cut him off again.

“Just get out, Sebastian. This,” you pointed between you two, “was a mistake to begin with. We both know where we stand with each other.”

“I don’t hate you.” He said, suddenly.

“Right. You need to go.” You rolled your eyes.

“I need you to believe me in this. I don’t hate you.” He repeated, slowly, blue eyes pleading.

“Leave, Sebastian.” You said, not leaving room for argument. He took two steps back, knowing he wasn’t going to get through to you at that moment.

“I don’t hate you,” He said one last time, before turning around and leaving.

Let me know in the comments if you wanna be tagged for part 2!

[nothingenoughao3]

hai i'm curious about what twin peaks is, can you explain it to me (preferably without spoilers) /nf

Oh, is it my birthday?! Yes I can do that!

I will say that I generally do not consider things that happen in the pilot or first episode of a TV series to be "spoilers" so much as "premise". So anything I say here that's direct plot-stuff will only come from the pilot. All right? Let's dig in!

CAPSULE SUMMARY

Twin Peaks is a surreal/magical realism/police procedural/drama/horror/soap opera produced by David Lynch and Mark Frost. It had two seasons of 30 episodes total, a film (Fire Walk With Me), and a third season that came out 25 years later in 2017.

In the pilot episode, a teenaged young woman who everyone in town knows, Laura Palmer, is found murdered. The town reels to cope with her demise and the investigation. A second young woman is found alive and wandering--and she crossed state lines as she wandered. The police call in the FBI, since it's now a multi-state case, and in walks Special Agent Dale Cooper.

As Cooper begins his investigation, he discovers that there's far, far more going on in Twin Peaks than he'd first anticipated.

[NOTE HERE that Twin Peaks covers a LOT of extremely tough and triggering topics over the course of its run. DoesTheDogDie should have a list of all triggers, although those will come with spoilers. The main one to be aware of is that sexual assault, domestic abuse, and rape are discussed. The aftermath of these crimes is depicted. It's 1990, so it's not graphic as in Law & Order: SVU, but it is very much present. Please take care of yourself first!]

NOT-SPOILER REASONS TO WATCH IT

It is a vital historical work of art. Twin Peaks revived the police procedural, popularized soap operas as an art form, launched and relaunched multiple acting careers, introduced surrealism to multiple generations of TV watchers, taught basics of Buddhism, helped spread awareness of the Free Tibet movement, and inspired countless references and imitators. When you watch Twin Peaks, you'll feel like you've seen it before... because you've almost certainly seen something which only exists because of Twin Peaks.

David Lynch is Autism Patient Zero who does not compromise his writing or his vision for NT audiences. He writes dialogue and directs actors in a way that can only be described as "everybody's got the autism accent", and it is a DELIGHT to experience.

The visuals are, often, so strong that you will forget how to breathe. Many of the sets and locations are treated like characters in and of themselves.

The title, Twin Peaks, ties into the show's central themes about identity, which is one of my favorite themes in fiction. What makes you who you are? If there was someone who looked a lot like you, would that compromise who you are? What if they have the same name as you? Are you no longer who you are if you can't remember your past? Is it sometimes a good thing to change your identity? What if everybody thinks you did something unforgivable, but you don't remember it? Does society require all of us to have public faces and private faces? Does anyone really know another person's private face?

When I first watched it, nobody shipped Trucoop (Cooper with the local police sheriff, Harry S. Truman). Now it seems like everybody does and I am not alone, yaaay.

Features one of the very few trans characters in media at the time who was unambiguously positive!

Watch an episode, then pull up the IMDB and see who everyone is. I guarantee that you'll almost always find SOMEone who was famous for other stuff. If you like Star Trek, you'll find that half the damn cast was either on TNG or DS9. It is honestly astounding to me that Jeff Combs wasn't on the series (because, I assume, he was shooting Bride of Re-Animator and other stuff).

THINGS TO WATCH OUT FOR

The subtitling in some versions of the show (on DVD specifically) is really bad and unreliable. I found that the Netflix subtitles were OK. If you don't know about OpenSubtitle, I recommend using them to find better subtitles in case you need them.

As stated above, the show gets into really dark themes, and it does not shy away from them when necessary. I feel that these things are addressed in a sensitive way and frequently related to plot, but it hits everyone different.

The music... eh. I like the electro/late 80s theme and the instrumentals that back most of the scenes. But every time someone sings, I get the cringe. I've never been able to get on board with what Lynch thinks good music sounds like. But a lot of people do, so that could just be me.

It takes a lot of work to watch this show. Since so much of it is visual, it is absolutely a show you have to watch with no distractions. I found it to be worth it--past a certain point, I didn't want any distractions. But I get where it's a sacrifice of time and concentration.

If you watch it and enjoy it, you will probably end up with Lynchian Syndrome, where you are compelled to watch every other thing David Lynch has ever made and develop elaborate hypotheses on how they're all in the same universe and suchlike.

So yeah! I hope this gives you an spoiler-free idea of why this show is so special, and if you had any other questions about it, let me know!

[placeinthisworld]

just curious what you mean about your idol becoming what she used to sing about? what do you think has changed? no hate just genuinely curious

i feel like over the years her music has become more jaded, less personable more targeted. she used to sing about her experiences and feelings more generally and therefore held more interest bc of the relatability aspect of her songs. like for all the ogs which i may still listen to she had so much intent in the songwriting. like, as a teenager i never went through a breakup (still haven’t?) so i could never relate to her breakup songs in a traditional way- but the way she would write about her feelings would still feel relatable to me enough to help me through different situations.

i feel like now she writes to complete and album. she knows she can bullshit something quick is she’s motivated enough. it feels like midnights was a first draft- like it was never edited and perfected it was just written, recorded and produced. done.

i also feel like her fanbase has a lot to do with it. i think when folklore was released, she had disappeared from the spotlight long enough for the general public to forget why they were so against her to begin with. i think taylor made her dating life a main highlight in her career (whether that was on purpose is another debate), so when she got with joe and went private for a bit the general public weren’t being plastered w ts/ bf gossip and sightings to annoy them and remind them of her “serial dater” reputation. and when folklore came out it was purely about the album and not the relationship that influenced the album bc it was “fictional,” and people needed something fun to transfix on when the world was unpredictable and scary bc of covid- which is why everyone and their mom became a swiftie overnight. nobody speculated about what song was about who (i mean swifties did ofc but it wasn’t a world wide thing- it was just rocking out to august). the internet definitely shifted during this time and it feels like everyone became chronically online.

long story short: i feel like taylor is using her songwriter and platform as a weapon. she knows her fans are weirdly cult like and notoriously known for being bullies on the internet, and that they’ll buy and believe anything she says. i think everyone will be expecting a folklore- likeness to ttpd but i think it’ll be a cheap way of blowing over her relationship with joe and changing the narrative for rep tv. overall it just feels like all of her songwriter is so personal to her life and her relationships it’s not relatable anymore, her words don’t have the impact they once did. everything feels tailored to her life specifically and it’s more of a show for swifties to make pick up easter eggs for clout on the internet. like she knows what she’s doing with ttpd, we all know.

it’s evident in the way she markets herself, it’s evident in the lack of marketing of her albums. she knows her fans will promote it for her. no lead single, no real description of the album or anything. hundreds of dollars of encouraged preorders for something you don’t even know if you’ll like until you buy it. fucked with umg to try to return it if you don’t. fomo if you missed out on an “exclusive” or “limited” item.

also just the whole miss americana thing she’s ignoring. we all heard her. she said she wanted to be on the right side of history. yet here she is politically silent as always- besides that one time in 2020 when she coincidentally had something to release….

(also unrelated….but like the taylor overexposure is real. i love that she’s interested in doing different things but i wish she would prioritize quality over quantity. it feels like she’s rushing through everything to get to the next one. i just wish she would care more about her art than breaking records and being #1/ talked about constantly. it just feels very….narcissistic? like girlie you’re a billionaire and youre still in your early thirties what are you trying to do??? be the first person to sing on the moon like??? when is it Enough for her?)

[strangebiology]

FAQ about the Carcass Book

I'm planning on making a guide for people writing nonfiction non-memoir books (mostly links to other resources and articles answering specific questions and offering guides) but I thought I'd share my FAQ regarding Carcass: The Afterlives of Animal Bodies.

How did you get the book deal? 

I built up a career in science writing, especially animal remains and related topics. I apply for a lot of things and one day I pitched Carcass to MIT Press for their Pitch Fest. They were interested but on the advice of another writer, I went and got an agent, but I’m publishing with MIT Press anyway. 

2. How many agents did you have to talk to? 

Let me chart it for you: 

3. Why dead animals? 

I love animals and dead ones are a lot easier to catch, study and care for. 

That is the real answer, but if you want more: I started finding and collecting them, then becoming increasingly interested, like a spiral. Then I kept writing articles about then for Nat Geo, Newsweek etc, because they are super interesting and important and not a lot of other people were writing about them.

4. Do you recommend that I write a book? 

Do you like writing? A LOT? Enough to have written a LOT of non-books, and preferably published them too? Writing a book is a lot of time and energy, and I find it rewarding, but I personally would never have done it without having built up a career first. Do whatever you want but remember that your story could be a personal essay, TikTok, blog post, or any other media, not just a book. 

5. But what is your day job? 

The book is my day job. 

6. How do you survive financially? 

The advance and the grant. 

7. So you’re a student? 

No. 

8. No way a nobody writer could get enough of an advance to live on! 

Ok.

9. What kind of self-promotion do you need to do?

That’s not really my job and most trad pubbed authors with decent contracts don't really need to either. Still, I do keep several social media pages to interact with the community, to post things in photo and video format that can’t go in the book, to keep notes, and for fun. Time will tell whether that sells any.

10. Do you have advice for fiction writers?

I don't think I'm qualified, sorry.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

It's gonna get really uncomfortable in here if she keeps being unclear about the muses and making it a open debate and continuing the discomfort everyone has with the mash ups she's been doing for months now. It will be fun for me though. As a creative sort who has had to rethink their own art in the shade + light of relevations in my own life. I hope she is so happy and inspired she can go back to writing more abstractly with plausible deniability and with open metaphor-story and the Folklore-Evermore-Anthology series.

I’m sorry if that’s the experience you’ve had, but I haven’t found it particularly uncomfortable for that reason on tumblr. I think everything depends on how you curate your dash and what you choose to give energy to, and I don’t give mine to that stuff. There are certainly topics I don’t feel particularly comfortable talking about because they’re delicate and I don’t feel like this is the appropriate forum for it or because things get weird, sure, but that’s not on Taylor, that’s on the people consuming her music. I don’t think you meant it this way, but again, if people are uncomfortable with what she puts out, that’s on them to explore why it does and to reconcile it, but Taylor is allowed to write about whatever she wants however she wants, whether it’s diaristic or fictional or a mix of both. One doesn’t invalidate the other.

This isn’t directed at you, but I really don’t understand the argument that she needs to be clear about anything. No other artist is under the same scrutiny about what they write about, and Taylor only is by her fans because she was open about being personal at the beginning of her career and it stuck. But so are many other artists, yet nobody cares about their inspiration. I can tell you I don’t think about muses about any other artist I listen to, and I rarely did about Taylor until I dipped my toes into online fandom around Lover and more seriously during folkmore. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that time lol, although not really because I’ve had so many wonderful, insightful conversations here about so many of those experiences.

I would never wish for Taylor to restrict what she can write about in the way she wants to write. Whether it’s confessional or prose, that’s up to her. I don’t think there’s correlation between her happiness and how diaristic her music is. I love her fictional and allegorical writing and would welcome more of it (evermore followed by folklore followed by the Anthology are my favourite albums), but her diaristic writing is so powerful because it’s universal in its uniqueness too and I cherish those songs just as much.

Do I complain sometimes about how there are things I wish I could talk about but don’t feel I can here? Sure. But that’s not because of Taylor’s writing, it’s because of how the internet doesn’t leave room for nuance or critical thinking a lot of the time and how it’s not a place for dialogue so much as a soapbox. (As i am doing here, for instance.)

TL;DR: Taylor doesn’t owe anyone anything.

And with that, I’d like to move on from the topic, thanks!

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

The New York Times bestselling author Katherine Center's next laugh out loud, feel good rom-com about writing your own story.

She’s rewriting his love story. But can she rewrite her own?

Emma Wheeler desperately longs to be a screenwriter. She’s spent her life studying, obsessing over, and writing romantic comedies—good ones! That win contests! But she’s also been the sole caretaker for her kind-hearted dad, who needs full-time care. Now, when she gets a chance to re-write a script for famous screenwriter Charlie Yates—The Charlie Yates! Her personal writing god!—it’s a break too big to pass up.

Emma’s younger sister steps in for caretaking duties, and Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks for the writing gig of a lifetime. But what is it they say? Don’t meet your heroes? Charlie Yates doesn’t want to write with anyone—much less “a failed, nobody screenwriter.” Worse, the romantic comedy he’s written is so terrible it might actually bring on the apocalypse. Plus! He doesn’t even care about the script—it’s just a means to get a different one green-lit. Oh, and he thinks love is an emotional Ponzi scheme.

But Emma’s not going down without a fight. She will stand up for herself, and for rom-coms, and for love itself. She will convince him that love stories matter—even if she has to kiss him senseless to do it. But . . . what if that kiss is accidentally amazing? What if real life turns out to be so much . . . more real than fiction? What if the love story they’re writing breaks all Emma’s rules—and comes true?

Review:

A rom com lover who dreams about making it as a screenwriter gets the opportunity of a lifetime, working with her favorite famous screenwriter on his new rom com movie script... except he's not as charming or wonderful as she had hoped, and he refuses to work with a "nobody"... can she really write this rom com? Emma Wheeler loves rom coms, she's longed to make it as a screenwriter and is good enough to have won contests and even be offered an internship... but she's had to give it up in order to look after her father who was injured in an accident that killed her mother too....an accident she feels responsible for. Emma then gets a call from her manager with the job opportunity of a lifetime, to re-write a script for the famous screenwriter Charlie Yates, the same Charlie Yates that Emma has been obsessed with since forever. This is her dream job and she immediately gets on a plane to go... leaving her younger sister to step in for caretaking duties while Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks. Yet when she mets Charlie she is absolutely shocked to discover he is nothing like she imagined, he in fact is an egotistical, rude, and plain mean guy who refuses to work with a "failed, nobody screenwriter" despite the fact that his script is so terrible it could destroy his career, oh and the fact that he doesn't even want to write a rom com, he just wants a passable script to send off... and the fact that he doesn't believe in love. Emma is determined to change his mind about rom coms and love, despite the fact that he belittles her, treats her like dirt, and is so combative about everything, Emma wants to change his mind. Yet the more time she spends with him the more she begins to fall for him... yet can the same be said for him? Or is this all just to get the script he needs to get funding for his next movie project? This started off with potential... however I just couldn't ever get around to actually liking either character or enjoying their romance at all. I'm going to be honest, I just disliked Charlie overall, he really didn't endear me, he didn't come off as a great love interest after everything, and honestly he just got on my nerves. I really wish I did like this but the character's love story just didn't fit well enough for me and if I'm being honest i got a bit annoyed with both characters throughout the story. Both Emma and Charlie are going through a lot of their own issues but Charlie constantly taking it out on Emma and Emma just being his punching bag just didn't feel that great. It's an okay romance but it's definitely not one of my favorite ones from Katherine Center. I've loved Katherine's other books and will absolutely be reading her future works, this one just missed the mark a. bit for me. If you like opposites attract then give this one a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

Release Date: June 11,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[grandpaswagger]

The Law of Attraction

The Universe Responds to Your Frequency

(Read Slowly, Then Reread)

By William Darnell Sr 4/18/2023

The Law of Attraction is, like attracts like, or the positive attracts positivity. But you've noticed; It hasn't recognized your wants, needs, or desires. So, you're discouraged because there's chaos in your life. The chaos draws in negative impacts to the outcome here. Because it only understands the frequency at which you're vibrating.

                  Vibes, Folks, Vibes!

For example:

You're vibrating at the frequency of fear, guilt, or shame. Then, you'll attract things of that similar vibration or nature.

Or:

You're vibrating in the frequency of love, joy, or prosperity. Then, you'll attract things supporting that frequency or vibration.

So, it's like tuning into a radio station?

You'd be tuning into the music you want to listen to all the time. So, you'll need to tune into the frequency you want to manifest.

In closing, Here are some suggestions you might try.

Focus on your energy for a better you, so, today is a start.

Don't you think it's time positivity brings these changes to begin in your life?

Then do it because you deserve it for yourself.

And lastly; After all, we are all searching for happiness, love, prosperity, and connection.

So, Be good to yourself, and the rest will fall into place. It'll change your life and mindset forever.

But,

Is changing the mindset simply enough?

No, nobody said it would be easy because there are conditions to this transition. There are conditions to everything.

But, to progress in anything we do, tune in to these positive prominences. It's vital for a better you.

It's called, The Law of Attraction.

To Summarize:

Do you want to manifest positive changes in your life? It's all about the frequency at which you vibrate. The Law of Attraction states that; you attract what you put out in your frequency to the universe. It's all connected, where everyone and everything in these frequencies connects. But that's to a certain degree, of course.

Make the focal point on positive energies. Like, love, career advancement, or prosperity. Then you'll soon start seeing favorable changes. It's not easy, though, and it's worth the time and effort. Then, you'll be thanking yourself for doing it. I promise you this!

Thanks for reading, and take care, Have a Great Day, Folks!

Sources:

The Law Of Attraction - The Universe Responds To Your Frequency | A Short Story or Fictional Prose by William Darnell Sr. (poetrysoup.com)

The Law of Attraction-The Universe Responds to Your Frequency (writers-writing-words.squarespace.com)

2 Resources:

What Is Law of Attraction (forbes.com)

Understanding And Using The Law of Attraction (verywellmind.com)

#lawofattraction, #positivity, #mindsetshift, #welldone, #begoodtoyourself

[spanishrose2002]

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I don’t like things that involve children/underage people engaging in inappropriate behavior. I also don’t like non-consensual stuff, and if I do it because of a certain reason in a fic, I warn heavily for it.  I just prefer not to have those kinds of things in my stories, so I certainly wouldn’t write them as tropes or anything like that.   💲 Would you ever open commissions? I certainly would if someone wanted something original.  However, I mostly write fanfiction, so that means that I cannot do that.  It’s illegal and unethical.  I know some fanfic writers do it and have done it, in the past, but it really threatens the whole community, and I wouldn’t do that.   🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories? I spend way too much time researching for some fics.  I know more about some topics, now, than I ever really need to know--like the mating of cows. 🏆 What's your most popular fic? I could be wrong, but I would say it’s probably Broken Mirrors.  I think that’s my only really popular fic and, to be honest, it has long since kind of lost it’s charm for the community.  It’s just old hat, at this point.  It had its day, though. 🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic? I adore holiday fics.  I write them year ‘round and for every ship that I write.  I would love to write more of them.  I am a fall and winter holiday fic person. Which one is my favorite?  That’s probably impossible to say.  I’ve written quite a few that I love for different reasons.  I’d say that they all have their charm, at least for me. 🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? I mean, at this point, the running joke for anyone who reads several of my fics is when is the baby coming in.  That one is funny, too, because I have been harassed so much, in the past, for writing pregnancy/baby/kid fics that it almost became an act of rebellion to accept that I like what I like, and I’m going to do what I want.   My fics are like King cakes.  Where’s the baby?  You know it’s in there. 🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories? I would adore any art that my fics inspired someone to create!   📈 How many fics do you have? Currently, I have 421.  There are a few one shots that I hope to write, maybe even today.  Several of my fics are 400,000 to 500,000 words, and a great deal of them are at least 100,000 to 200,000 words. 🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants? I do a little of both. 👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! Does that mean not yet started?  I don’t have any in the can right now that aren’t in progress.  I can tell you about Rupture, which is the latest one.  It’s going to be a lovely little fantasy-esque adventure full of warmth, found family, friends, and humor.   🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? “Fine,” he said.  “But—You hold my hand.  If we get snatched into some other world, or universe, or whatever, I’ma end up in the same damn place as you.” 

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon? I’d rather nobody I know irl see any of my fics unless I invite them to do so.   ✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to? Family themes, friend themes, babies and children, redemption, overcoming trauma, acceptance and love...etc.   📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career? I wish I could!  (Fiction writing, that is.  I chose to step away from the non-fiction writing that could have been part of my career.) ⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter? If I’m inspired (and especially if someone is hyping me up), I can realistically do about 8,000 to 10,000 words of fic on a weekend day.   🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)? I struggle with A LOT!  I really struggle with smut and action, but there’s a lot that I’m just not very good at writing.  LOL  I still do it, though, because it amuses me.   💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? The Roses Still Grow in Georgia and Winter, even though they have their heartwarming moments, too.   

[briamichellewrites]

53

I want to go back to sleep. Mike asked her what she meant. Bria had been thinking about her dream again. He nodded before asking her why. She wanted to restart the timeline. Maybe she was still asleep and didn’t know it. He didn’t have an answer to that. Neither did she. Nobody did. That was the problem. What if she woke up and things were different? What if she was sixteen again? That only happened in movies, not in real life.

She closed her eyes. When she opened them a few minutes later, nothing happened. Everything was the same. She didn’t know. Maybe she had to look into science fiction. What did she want to change? Meeting BP when she was sixteen years old. Maybe she would be reintroduced to the band and avoid meeting Richie.

Her documentary was released across the country. For the first time, people got to see who she was. She was complicated. Critics wrote about her being open about her mental health, addiction, childhood in the foster care system, and her career. They appreciated how she didn’t come across as whiny or ungrateful. Instead, she came across as a young woman who had gone through trauma and was still learning who she was. All while struggling with mental illness and her fame.

Bradley was given credit as a filmmaker. He invited her and the band to a screening at his house in Venice. They were provided with snacks and blankets to keep them comfortable. For the past year, he had followed her around and caught a lot of footage. Including some of her with the band goofing around or talking about their friendship with her.

“Phoenix is an asshole!”

“Bria is just annoying!”

They laughed when they saw that. In one scene, she was riding in the back seat of a van going to her hotel after performing on television. He asked her what she thought about turning thirty years old. She laughed a little.

“Dirty thirty. I’m fucking terrified! I can’t believe I’m turning thirty. Oh my god. It feels like just yesterday I was sixteen. How the hell has it been thirteen years?”

“What are you terrified about?”

“Just things changing. The world is changing. Music is changing. I want to pause and enjoy this moment. But, time doesn’t work like that.”

“What is one of your biggest regrets?”

“Getting involved with men that I shouldn’t have been involved with. Hindsight is 20/20, you know. I didn’t see the red flags. Instead, I was so excited about an older guy being interested in me. I didn’t have my brain telling me that a guy in his thirties should not be attracted to a teenage girl.”

The band knew she was talking about BP. Their relationship was extremely inappropriate. She didn’t know that at the time because she didn’t have anyone to tell her that. BP did see her documentary at the movie theater. He thought it was well done. Bradley showed everyone who she was. He had a lot of regrets about his relationship with her. His biggest regret was getting involved with her when she was underage. He should have backed off when he found out she was only sixteen.

Mike and Brad helped him get the rights to add some of her favorite songs to the documentary. She gave him a list of songs: A Minute Without You by Hanson, Hands by Jewel, Anything But Ordinary by Avril Lavigne, Have A Nice Day by Bon Jovi, I Write Sins, Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco, Numb by Linkin Park, and Talk Too Much by Coin.

Of course, her cats were featured. She introduced Cookies and Cream to the world. They were her four-legged children. They had no idea what the humans were doing. They had just jumped up onto the couch while she was talking about her sobriety. Whatever she was doing wasn’t as important as getting attention. She told them if they were going to sit with her, they needed to be quiet. Just as she started talking again, Cookies loudly meowed.

“I love you but you’re being annoying right now. This is what happens when I don’t give them attention twenty four seven.”

The band laughed. She liked to joke about her cats being assholes, even though she loved them to pieces. As she continued the interview, she petted both of the cats. Her drinking started in 2006/2007. She was in a relationship with a guy that was unhealthy. It was fueled by alcohol and sex. She and her cats moved in with him for five years.

During her addiction, she was hospitalized multiple times. That included once for suicidal ideation. She had a plan of how she would end her life. At first, she was able to hide her drinking from her friends. It took about a year before they started noticing something was wrong. She was having more trouble with her mood swings. They brushed it off as her Borderline Personality Disorder. When did they notice something was wrong?

“My friend, Mike was the one who first noticed it. Whenever he came over, I was always drinking. He told me he was worried about me but I refused to admit anything was wrong. By that point, I was already addicted.”

“How often were you drinking?”

“Every day. I was drinking until I fell over or passed out. Even on tour, I was drinking. I would wake up hungover. I always had a bottle of water with me to sober me up. It’s disgusting how much alcohol took over my life. I don’t wish addiction on anyone.”

It was a cycle of feeling depressed and then drinking. The more she drank, the worse her depression became. The worse her depression was, the more she drank. She lost weight because of alcohol and she could have lost her life. How did she get help?

An awesome guy named, Bradley Cooper had an intervention for her. She had been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. The doctor told her that if she didn’t stop drinking, she would go into liver failure and likely die. When she got home, he and her friends came together. They told her how her drinking was affecting them. She had no idea because she had blinders on.

“Bradley – you – told me ‘You’re better than this. You have so much potential that you can’t even imagine.’ It was because of that, I admitted that I needed help. I went into detox for a week. That was hell. Then, I went into rehab for six months.”

“Are you still sober?”

“I am! I am eleven months sober! I’m so proud of myself!”

Her longtime goal was to retire when she was forty. As much as she loved her career, she couldn’t do it forever. Twenty four years was long enough for her. What was she going to do instead? She wanted to have a farm in the middle of nowhere Los Angeles with cats, dogs, birds, horses, fish. Maybe even chickens and hens. She would spend the rest of her life caring for them.

They clapped when the documentary was over. They had laughed and cried and were inspired. Even though they were biased because Bria was their friend, they thought the documentary was very well done. It showed her as she was. That was the girl they loved, feared and respected. They would tell their friends and family to see it when it came out.

After getting up, they helped clean up by taking their garbage to the trash and folding up the blankets. They then said goodbye with hugs. Bradley put his arm around her before they headed upstairs. They were both tired and just wanted each other.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[dd-is-my-guiltypleasure]

Excerpts

The biggest name is probably David Duchovny, as a grizzled Harrison Ford type increasingly weary of the series’ daftness. Duchovny did not watch a lot of TV during the first wave, he says, squinting down the camera from some sort of log cabin. He tried two episodes of Tiger King, then quit. “Sentimentally, I was touched by it, because I think everybody was trying to find community. Like: at least we can all agree that this is fucking fantastic and let’s all watch it. Like a pacifier.”

Duchovny warms to his theme. “Tiger King was this juggernaut! And now that the fictionalised versions are coming out, I don’t think anyone cares any more. These things get so hot and so big, then they’re just gone.”

Duchovny is now 61 and writes novels (four) and albums (three). He too is less hot and big, but today at least, that sexy dyspepsia remains pretty robust.

This is why he was fine with quarantining before The Bubble: “I’m usually in my room anyway, looking at the walls.” Having food shoved through a hole in the door for a fortnight was “slightly depressing. But everything gets normal. Humans are amazingly adaptable. Or forgetful.”

Legitimate criticism, thinks Duchovny. “You’re thinking about yourself a lot. The job is to be vulnerable and somewhat self-obsessed. On top of that, there’s career anxiety and shaping and branding and all that shit. We’re overpaid and overwatched and people care way too much about us. Nobody deserves any of that.”

He sips on something. “But, for the most part, actors are just human beings doing a job. A silly job – but a job.” And, actually, now that he thinks about it, the lying part isn’t true. “We’re all acting in life. We all put on a face to meet the faces. Actors just try to lie truthfully.”

Duchovny demurs. Making grand claims for your project is just another way of bolstering it. “I’m a fan of the work standing on its own. But we don’t live in that world any more,” he says. “It’s impossible to judge a work on its own merit. There’s just too much that you’ve heard, mostly from the fucking people who made it. I should be disqualified from talking about my work. Not only because I’m gonna lie to you, but because I’m not outside it.”

And Duchovny? He is fine, he says, just fine. Fiction writers will muddle through somehow. The pandemic hasn’t changed the fundamentals of entertainment. “Whatever a pandemic story could tell us would be about what it is to be human, not about what it is to be human in a pandemic.”

One final thing: what has he lied about today, given that he always does, when he talks about his work? Oh, he says, looking briefly bashful. Nothing. “The lie is whatever angle you’re doing. Or: ‘This is the best work I’ve ever done.’ I used to watch Arnie go on chatshows and say that about every film he made. And I believed it! It was said with such conviction.

“I love Judd and his work, so I’m happy to be in that world and making a big comedy at this point in my life. But sometimes you go out there and you’re like: this is not the best movie I ever made. So am I gonna salvage my own sense of integrity as a person? Or say: buy this thing! Buy it! And then be like: oh, sorry …’”

[olderthannetfic]

whats your stance on own-voices media?

I think people began using terminology like that to talk about things like major literary fiction about identity and how that ought to be from an authentic perspective.

If the objective is literal representation, then it's important to have people of that group making the thing. When it's a question of major publishing contracts, it makes sense to ask why they're hiring somebody from outside the group depicted. For film and tv, the crews are massive and there are multiple major artistic contributors, so if not even a few of these key people are the group depicted, we can and should be pissed. The more serious business the genre and the wider the reach of the media, the more this matters, IMO. It's about career opportunities.

But not all art is trying to be literal representation.

Nobody would argue that drag queens are required to be women.

BL and slash fanfic are a similar situation: they're weird minority art where a group explores itself allegorically instead of literally. Both can certainly explore identity and society, but neither claims to be Authentic Representation™ of the nominal bodies depicted.

Another similarity is that these things don't have huge barriers to entry: if you think that person's art sucks, you can do your own in response. The issue of major publishing contracts just doesn't arise.

Personally, as a consumer of romance novels, adventure novels, mystery novels, etc., I only care if the author can write in a style I find appealing. Bring on the dudes writing f/f space pirate epics--as long as I find them hot and entertaining. I don't give two shits about ownvoices in the context of genre fiction that never claimed to be an authority on a given identity, and I especially don't if it's fanfic or self published webnovels because those authors have taken no opportunity away from another. Frankly, when I see a lot of noise about ownvoices from people writing genre fiction, it's a big red flag that they're more concerned with looking good than with fixing plot holes.

But there's a special circle of hell for people who do shit like writing fake memoirs pretending to belong to an underprivileged group they don't.

[hyungieyoongi]

Epilogue: “Run Away to You” Part 7

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Angst (if you squint) + Fluff (nobody look at me I’m so soft)

Warning: Brief mention of reader’s panic attacks and mental health

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 6 \\

--- 

One year later...

You stood in the wings to the right of the stage, watching Yoongi stand side-by-side with his fellow members as they took their final bow. The love and energy from ARMY was overwhelming, your heart swelling with pride as you saw the look of pure happiness radiating from Yoongi and the rest of the boys.

BTS had held a series of surprise concerts in the past couple of months, and tonight was the last one in Seoul. Yoongi had made sure you attended each one with him, no matter where it was in the world. He told you he had always wanted to travel with you.

You looked out into the stadium, ARMY bombs lighting up the seats, illuminating the arena with a wash of purple light. You smiled, tears coming to your eyes at the beauty of it all.

As you took in the sight, you couldn’t help but reminisce on the past few months with Yoongi and everything you both went through to get to this moment.

You had been honest with the world in your video, explaining that you had to step away from your career for your mental health. You opened up about dealing with panic attacks and the toxic pressure of the acting industry. You explained how you needed to get your creativity and passion back for new projects by disappearing for a little while. There were so many people who had sent you messages of love and support, welcoming you back with positivity and warmth.

But the other side was picking you apart relentlessly. They accused you of trying to use Yoongi to get back into the spotlight now that you had gotten tired of living the “normal” life. They were saying that the pictures of you and Yoongi were all a ploy to get attention to restart your acting career.

If only they knew how much trouble those pictures had caused you.

You remember how you found it ironic how much the first few weeks of your life back in the public eye were so like your life when you first went into hiding. Moving into a new apartment, donning baseball hats and masks whenever you stepped outside, the threat of unwanted and uncontrolled publicity controlling your every move.

You had to have security with you, especially in the early days. The press wanted to get the scoop on your disappearance and your time with Yoongi, often flanking you with cameras if you popped out to get a coffee or go to the store.

Yoongi’s label put out an official statement to explain away the potential romantic implications of the picture, saying that the two of you knew each other from your time in the business and you were “old friends.” They cautioned the two of you to avoid being seen alone together in public, but Yoongi put his foot down, telling the label that you were not going to be hidden away forever.

Your publishing company was thrilled to hear that you no longer wanted to publish your book under a pseudonym; your name recognition was guaranteed to start a buzz around your upcoming release. Yoongi would often try to peak over your shoulder when you were working together, trying to read what you were writing. You would tease him, telling him he had to wait to read it just like everyone else.

Not to mention you were a little nervous to tell him that the story that you were writing was not-so-loosely inspired by your own relationship with him.

Navigating the public world again was made better by having Yoongi there with you, albeit privately at first. You would often have dinner with the boys or go watch Yoongi rehearse when you weren’t in editorial meetings or writing your book.  

Being in love with him again had been the easy part.

The harder part was the conversations late at night about when and how you wanted to go public. You both were trying to balance the needs of his job as an idol with your timidness over putting too much of yourself back out there too soon. You were attempting to show the world your genuine personality this time around. There was no production company to impress or an acting job that was dependent on your popularity; you were just hopeful that his fans would be more receptive to your relationship if they already felt like they knew the real you. You never wanted to go back to feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of the pressure.

You decided as a couple on a deadline – six months. After six months of dating privately, you had to decide whether you wanted to be together publicly.

Yoongi came to your apartment six months later, looking pale with nerves and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t spoken over the past two days, wanting to give each other the space to decide what was best on your own.

You told him you had already made your choice the night when you went to dinner with him and the boys at his apartment – you weren’t about to change your mind. He carelessly dropped the flowers on the ground, sweeping you up into his arms.

You both knew that you would face backlash, maybe even some hate, but you were stronger together than apart. He was it for you, and you weren’t going to let him go just like he promised you he wouldn’t. It hadn’t been easy, but it certainly was worth it.

You turned your head to watch as the boys waved goodbye, exiting stage right and stage left. Yoongi walked toward the side of the stage with purpose, eyes alight with adrenaline. You smiled brightly at him, his arms coming around you as he practically collided with you, head landing between your shoulder and neck as he breathed out heavily. Your hands instinctively went to his head, running your hands through his slightly sweaty locks as his heart rate came down from the high of the concert.

“You were amazing, Yoongs,” you told him. He leaned back, placing a firm kiss on your lips, surprising you. When he pulled back you were greeted with a gummy smile. Staff started to flutter around you, dabbing Yoongi with a towel and handing him an open bottle of water. You stepped away to let them through, not wanting to interfere with their jobs. Before you could move too far away, his hand reached through the bodies surrounding him, searching for your own. You wrapped your fingers around his, Yoongi using the grip to pull you back to be closer to him.

The staff adjusted to your presence again, shuffling you both along toward his dressing room. Intertwining your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. You thought you saw Jin amidst the flurry of activity, hearing a distinctive laugh that you were pretty positive was directed toward the blatant show of public affection between yourself and Yoongi since he got off the stage.

With how lucky you felt in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

---

“Remember, I warned you that you might not like the book. I was dealing with a lot when I started writing it, and I promise I changed the characters enough. Only you or I will even notice the similarities. I mean, the characters get a happy ending and so did we, but…” you were rambling, your newly printed hard copy gripped firmly in your hands. 

A week after his final surprise concert wrapped, you had come over to Yoongi’s apartment to gift him the copy of your book you had promised him, but you were reluctant to actually let it go. Yoongi was trying – and failing – to get it from you, leaning back with an exasperated sigh when he realized you weren’t going to budge.

“We have been dating for over a year now, Y/N, I think I can handle the fictional book version of our relationship,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“But it might bring up old memories. Bad memories,” you said quietly, averting your eyes. Yoongi propped your chin up with his index finger forcing you to look at him.

“Stop worrying so much. Our past is the reason why we are together now. I’m not scared of it anymore,” Yoongi admitted with a nonchalant shrug. Your cheeks burned, Yoongi chuckling at your pink face before kissing you sweetly. Even after all this time, you still became flustered at his romantic gestures.

You finally handed the book over.

“You should probably check the dedication page first,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed. Yoongi’s lips quirked up in a smirk, slowly flipping to the dedication page in the copy of your book in his hands. His expression changed to something unreadable and soft as he read the words dedicated to him:

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

I love you.

You held your breath as you watched him read the page twice, your knee jumping up and down in nervous anticipation. Yoongi put his hand on your knee, stopping your movements. He leaned forward, your book still in his other hand. You felt yourself instinctively move closer to him, seeming to melt into his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your ear.

He would always be your happy ending.

Part 6 \\

---

To everyone who read and followed along with this fic – it has meant so much to me to have people read this little series of mine and interact with it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

Taglist: @loveyoongles​​​ @agustd-2020​​​ @delacyrose224​​​ @sunshinejunghoseokie​​​ @jinsearthh​​​ @alpacaparkaseok​​​ @sheebaba​​​ @diamonddia-mond​​​ @dearyoongii​​​ @tarahardcore​​​ @kawaiiixchan

Check out my other work! ❤️

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight. 

[luvdsc]

Hiii Miss Cat! This is a random question but I promise I don't mean any offense. It's been over a year since I joined Tumblr and i was initially reluctant to begin writing on here because everyone wrote from the second pov instead of having OCs and I wasn't used to that, I do write now though and my blog's doing well, but I still feel kinda wrong writing this way, I mean it feels like I'm sort of fuelling a delusion to people, besides it's annoying because I can't fully develop Y/N because I need to be inclusive, I have no issues with that in general ofc, but a story needs a well fleshed out character, and it's just confusing because people get upset about reading things that can make the fics sound like the physical appearance is not tailored to them but then the storyline isn't either? I mean 'you' (not you miss cat) are not an idol's best friend or another's sister, and since this whole thing is fictional anyway how does it truly matter what colour Y/N's hair is? Idk if I come off as ignorant or offensive, but I'm sorry if I do. I would take to writing OCs but those barely gain any traction here and I do like getting feedback on my works.

You can choose to ignore this if it's ignorant! But how have you been? I hope you're doing well and taking good care of yourself 💕 Please stay hydrated and have a good day!

hey, lovebug !! 💓 the thing is, the whole point of writing x reader / Y/N is that it’s fueling not a delusion per se (or at least I hope not), but a fantasy for people where they can self insert themselves into the story. If you think you’re fueling a delusion for people, then why are you writing fanfiction to begin with?

Since “it’s annoying because [you] can’t fully develop Y/N because [you] need to be inclusive”, then there’s no need to force yourself to do something you don’t like. If inclusivity is an annoyance and an inconvenience to you, then don’t write it, but then don’t call your fics x reader or Y/N. If you want to develop a main character with physical attributes, then by all means, go ahead and do that. Nobody is stopping you, but it would not be Y/N; you would call that an OC.

“it’s just confusing because people get upset about reading things that can make the fics sound like the physical appearance is not tailored to them” — it’s because this is a microaggression. “Microaggression is a term used for commonplace daily verbal, behavioral or environmental slights, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative attitudes toward stigmatized or culturally marginalized groups.” If you’re writing a reader insert, then it should be inclusive for all readers, not just some who fit the aesthetic you have in mind for the main character. as a poc, I have experienced this regularly in my life already, and although I do not read fanfic anymore, it would just be nice to not have to experience discrimination or microaggressions in fanfic as well. it basically feels like you’re unwelcomed even in a story where you’re supposed to be the main character. with your example of being an idol’s best friend, that’s part of the fantasy. anyone can be their best friend, and there’s nothing exclusive about that. being their sister implies you’re korean, which not all readers are, unless you state that the reader was adopted or the idol was adopted.

A story can have a well fleshed out character by giving Y/N a personality, opinions, goals, career, etc. But I don’t believe giving her brown eyes and blonde hair attributes anything to her being a well fleshed out character. Additionally, geniunely asking, how does physical appearance add to the plot line? In my opinion, adding in a physical trait is acceptable if it’s relevant to the plot. For example, Y/N has pink hair because people with special powers all have that hair color in this fantasy AU. In this case, the physical trait (e.g. pink hair) is an important aspect that contributes to the storyline. On the other hand, adding in an offhand sentence about how Y/N’s hair is silky smooth and naturally straight does not contribute anything to the story, besides excluding certain readers. So why does that need to be added in?

If you don’t want to be inclusive, nobody is forcing you to be. However, you would need to label your stories as OC because it’s not Y/N or x reader if you’re giving them physical attributes. Just as you are not obligated to write inclusive reader inserts, readers are not obligated to read stories that are not inclusive to them, and as such, the feedback will be less. That’s simply the trade off for writing Y/N versus OC !!

and I’ve been doing well, thank you for asking, sweetpea !! 🌸 I’ve been getting better sleep hours these days, so that’s been super nice :’) and I’ve been drinking water and eating lots of yummy food !!! how have you been, honey bee? 💓💓 I hope you’re also taking care of yourself and staying hydrated and safe !!! 🌿 and thank you, lovebug, I hope you have a lovely day / night too !!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

[madamtrashbat]

A couple of thoughts

We doin' okay, Cats family? We're good? Good. I have one last thing to add.

This is kinda about pro- and anti-shippers, but it's really more about fandom culture in general and just my experiences. You can read it, if you want, or not.

Up to you.

I've been doin' this for a while. A good fifteen years at least, closer probably to sixteen. I've been doing things in fandom for longer than some of my mutuals have been alive.

(Oh Jesus)

And there's something I gotta tell you guys, both as a person who has been doing fandom-y stuff for years and for someone who literally has college degrees in English Literature and Creative Writing.

Being an anti is not normal.

And I know that comes across as harsh and mean and it sounds unreasonable but I'd like to explain what I mean by that.

I can trace back being an anti to two main sources: Voltron and Star Wars. I was never into Voltron or really even around anyone who was but I remember the screaming and fighting over the ships, and I remember the hellish crusade that began when people dared to ship Rey and Kylo Ren together. It was nasty, guys. It was absolutely insane that suddenly people were doing this over fictional ships, that people were being sent actual abuse and hatred because someone wanted the broody shitlord man and the unwashed desert scrounger to smooch. Like... imagine that in real time.

I was not, nor have I ever been, a Reylo shipper, but you know what I did, when that ship began, and I didn't like it? I ignored it and went about my day. Because that's how I was taught. Nothing in the fiction world was worth fighting over. It was not worth getting into arguments over. What was the point?

Then the antis got bolder, started branching out, and when people like me started standing up and saying, "Hey, stop being a dick to people!" someone hired the world's best PR machine and suddenly people who were not antis were pedophiles and abusive and incestuous.

How's that for some whiplash.

This anti movement of berating, bullying, harming, and threatening has been their MO, and it's dangerous. And now, they all buy their own bullshit. They actually think people like me are all out here twisting our mustaches like Snidely Whiplash and diddling kids. Without a shred of irony, they believe this.

Proship only labeled itself that as a response to the antiship, and antiship, make no mistake, named itself first. It was not anti-pedophile. It was not anti-incest. It was not anti-abuse.

It was all about disliking fictional ships that other people enjoyed, and thus attacking people over it.

And it's pointless. It's driven a child to suicide. It has gotten people fired. It has ruined careers, livelihoods, friendships. For nothing. For a boogeyman that doesn't exist.

Sex experts across the board all agree that what gives us our jollies is not at all what we want in real life. There's some wild statistic like 70% of women have had a sexual fantasy about rape at least once in their lives. About rape! That act that most AFAB people have a deep ingrained fear of! And we've used it to get off! Because sexual fantasy isn't that deep. Our brains are idiots. And since time immemorial, we as humans have written just the most fucked up shit.

It's even in the Bible. Humans have been nasty forever. And it doesn't mean shit.

It's in the TV shows. It's in our movies. It's in our books. It's in our music, our podcasts, everything. Being an anti is not the way of humanity at all. Ever. Except for like... maybe the puritans but they sucked so who cares about them.

Antis believe a lie. They believe a lie and they hurt people for it. I am not in any way, shape, or form exaggerating when I say I am fearful for those who regularly interact with me, because I am worried that one day the art they make or the "clout" they carry isn't going to be enough to save them from their friendship with me and antis will tear them to shreds. Because that is how they behave. They may not think they're bullies, and they may think they're in the right, but I want you to look up the Youtube RPF kid who killed themselves over anti harassment. Look at that horrible ask I just got. This is how they behave.

And that is what proshippers stand against. It's a stance against bullying, harassment, threats. That is it. There are plenty of proshippers out in the world that would never, ever think of writing anything involving someone underage, or between relatives, or involving anything gruesome. Because that's not what it's about.

Antis are new in the world of fandom, and they are the absolute root of toxicity. I do not exaggerate. They waste the time of agencies actually trying to eradicate CSAM by sending them art someone drew of a teenage character that isn't real. They've driven people to suicide. They've outright admitted to not caring about actual humans as much as they care about fictional ships. They have shown time and time again that they are not above abuse, vitriol, and bullying. There are blogs that post stories from ex-antis who say they were afraid to say anything different than their anti friends for fear of righteous backlash.

I repeat: I am legitimately afraid that my friends are going to get dogpiled and harassed because they dare to be my friend. That fear is not baseless. And it's all because of the way antis act.

I am liberal with the block button. I try to maintain boundaries because I don't want to see any of that shit as much as they don't want to see any of mine (though only a very scant few actually block me back, which is a joke in and of itself). But it still slips through. And I hate it, every time I see it.

Because this is not the way we're supposed to be. We are not supposed to be at odds with each other. We are supposed to share and have fun and be joyful about some people in lycra.

But because some people wanted to put on the pilgrim hat and play Morality Council to someone who's been doing this for years, I gotta tiptoe around people that think I'm actually out in the world diddling children. Do you know how fucked up that is. Do you know how that feels? To not only have someone make that judgment without any evidence, but to tell it to other people who don't know me either?

When someone finally snaps and starts biting back, it's not out of nowhere. And antis never, ever see themselves as doing something wrong. But they are. They are wrong.

Can I let you in on a little secret?

Seriously, just between you and me, come here.

If you think it's wrong to bully someone because of fiction, then you're proship. That is the long and short of it. No more or less. I hate to break it to you, but that is the only definition, and anyone who says it's something else is lying to you for their own gain.

And sure, there are lots of people who try to hide behind the proship label as they do shitty things. But antis do the same. Humans being assholes and trying to blame it on something else is not new.

The fact that people have come to me and told me that the antis have made them feel uncomfortable, that they're afraid if they do something they might view as negative they might receive hate, that people are actually AFRAID of people in this fandom, is not okay.

There was a fandom I was involved in where one of the prominent people actively hated me and I was never afraid of what she would do. I am afraid of the antis in this fandom, though. Because they have teeth and they like to use them.

Fandom isn't supposed to be like this. Nobody should be screaming at teenagers for talking to adults in fandom, infantilizing them like they're not a whole autonomous human. Nobody should be telling someone to kill themselves because they ship Tuggerstrap. Nobody should be afraid of the other people in their fandom.

Antis, if any of them even read this (I doubt it, but just in case), I want you to look around. The people who are neutral are not afraid of what the proshippers will say to them. They are afraid of you. You and your ilk are the ones causing the damage, and you are the outliers in the entire world of fiction. You're a loud minority that thinks it knows better when it knows absolutely nothing.

Ruminate on that.

My blog is still a safe space from bullying, abuse, and nastiness. If someone is being mean to you, you will always find a friend here. And if you can't say the same, then what's wrong with you?

Be excellent to each other. Stop making people afraid.

And sit down and ask yourself what it is you really want when you make vague posts about people and tell people vicious, awful things. What are you hoping to gain.