#and somehow this is the better draft so can you imagine what the others are like???

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dating Bang Chan

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning/s: mdni, mentions of insecurities

a/n: i had a stressful week and this was just sitting in my drafts. this is just a collection of random thoughts i had bcs i'm soft for chan♡ 

(i'll probably do this for every member eventually)

Chan is such a sweetheart. Expect to be hugged and pulled into his lap all the freaking time. He needs to have his hands on you somehow no matter where you are or what you're doing. Chan will give you a back hug and then pull you into him, burying his face in your hair. He loves skinship like that especially with people who bring him comfort like you do.

Chan is the type of boyfriend who will always ask if you're hungry, thirsty or cold and if you need anything at all he will stop what he was doing and get it for you. He always wants you to feel comfortable.

He is also very playful and will tease you all the time. I also feel like he is that type of boyfriend that will swoop you up and put you over his shoulders all the damn time especially while you're doing something just to get a rise out of you. He will laugh cutely as you trash around and yell at him to 'put you down or else' but you both know you're laughing too.

You become so close to his mother and sister, and you and Hannah team up to tease him together. Berry also adores you and always runs to you whenever you visit. Chan will playfully pout and sulk, saying that 'his family replaced him' but he is actually so thrilled that you get along.

He daydreams a lot about your future together, imagines you two getting married and starting a family and it makes him all giddy and giggly. Some things he's too shy to say to you directly so he puts them in songs that he writes for you.

Chan will watch every movie and listen to every song you recommend him. He wants to know what you like and why you like it so send him cute songs and tell him that they made you think of him.

Late night adventures. Driving around aimlessly as you listen to music, getting something to eat from a convenience store or a gas station. He pulls up somewhere secluded where you have the perfect view of the city. You eat, talk and look at the stars together. Kisses are shared, hands are roaming and pretty soon you end up in the backseat of the car.

Chan will take you out to dinner, bring you flowers, take you out to the arcade, to an ice cream date, to the beach, everywhere and anywhere, he just wants you to have fun together. But he will also enjoy a quiet night at home, while he works on his laptop and you're cuddled up to him reading a book.

He always puts you first, your needs above his so you have to scold him when he tells you he forgot to eat dinner. You bring him food to the studio and he's happy to see you but sad that he made you upset. You tell him you'll forgive him if he eats everything you brought him and he happily will.

Arguments with Chan would probably mostly happen when he's sleep deprived because he gets snappy then. His voice raises a little (not on purpose) but as soon as he sees tears forming in your eyes he will start apologizing. You tell him you need a few moments and obviously he does too, so he leaves to another room to cool off a little. When he comes back out, you two sit down and talk it out. You never want to go to bed angry or without resolving a fight.

No matter if you live together or you're sleeping over at each other's places you can forget about personal space. When you go to bed at night, Chan will cling onto you, he will pull you into him and hold you tight. Good luck on trying to move until the morning. Showers together because why wouldn't you wanna save water?

Absolute gentleman. Will open doors for you, move your chair, help you put your jacket on, you'll never have to carry anything heavy. He knows you can do it but he just wants to treat you like the queen you are and you better indulge him or he will sulk.

Sometimes, Chan feels insecure and nothing can make him feel better than your arms around him, his head on your chest as you gently tell him about everything you love and admire about him. He's used to always being alert and taking care of others so he'd love for you to take care of him sometimes like that, baby him a little, it lights his heart up.

Little moments when he's concentrated on something or lost in his own little world always make you gush at him and your camera is full of his cute moments, when he realizes you're filming him, he gets shy and you capture his sweet smile and cute giggles.

This man will also never give you room to doubt yourself. He will remind you every single day how much he loves you and respects you. How beautiful you are to him, every single part of you, every scar, stretchmark, anything you're insecure about he'll give extra kisses and caresses to that part of you just so you start loving yourself more.

Back hugs. Back hugs. BACK HUGS. FOREHEAD KISSES. HAND HOLDING. THIGH SQUEEZING.

Make him sleep please! He needs to rest and often pulls all-nighters but if you offer him cuddles he can't say no, he has to join you in bed.

You wear matching bracelets!🥺 And they're ones that you make by yourselves with cute colorful beads and maybe your initials and it's just so adorable!

Random cuteness agression moments where Chan can't contain all the love he has for you so he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You squeal and you both end up giggling and play-fighting. Will also tickle you every chance he gets. You're never safe from Chan the tickle monster. (He just loves touching you and loves seeing you laugh, deal with it.)

Okay but your mom will love him so much. He's the type of boyfriend that will treat your mom like his own. Anything she needs help with, he will help no questions asked. She's already calling him her son-in-law.

You need help fixing something around the house? Chan is your man. Just imagine those arms of his as he's working on something, wearing just a tanktop. (😩)

You can talk to him about anything really, he loves to listen to you ramble about your friends or work, sometimes he starts teasing you in the middle of your rambling, repeating what you're saying or reacting dramatically. You smack his thigh or arm and whine that he's not taking it seriously. He just laughs at you and promises to listen seriously with a goofy face.

But when it comes to actual serious issues, you can really rely on Chan. He will hold your hand and caress you as you tell him your worries. He'll listen without interrupting, letting you vent to him. When you're done he will do everything he can to comfort you, motivate you, make you feel better, help you get through whatever you're struggling with.

Talks about you all the time, he's so proud to be yours and he's just infatuated with you. Giggles to himself when he thinks about you. He just adores you so much.

[corroded-hellfire]

what about like an angst with reader, eddie, and Chrissy and maybe ends happy. like a romance type thing but lots of angst

Somehow this got lost in my drafts, so I deeply apologize it took me so long to get it out! I tried to angst it up for you.

Warnings: mentally and emotionally abusive parents, Eddie’s a jerk but he comes to

Words: 3.8k

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Nancy’s voice betrays her worry over the phone, and you have to assure her for the fifth time that you’re all right. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Annoyed isn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your mood before, but it’s certainly fitting now that Nancy keeps interrogating you. 

“You just sound different,” Nancy answers. “You sound off.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Why don’t you go and see Eddie?” Nancy suggests. It’s not a secret that your best friend can make you happier even when the world is turning to shit. His presence hasn’t been quite as helpful lately since it’s a constant reminder that he has a date with Chrissy Cunningham coming up—and not one with you. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you tell Nancy. 

“Good. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, Nance. Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you stroll into the bathroom and survey the damage on your face. Digging through your makeup bag to find your trusty makeup remover, you make a mental note to stop off at Melvalds on the way home to pick up some more. The skin beneath your puffy eyes is tender as you use a cotton swab to clear away the smeared mascara. Hisses of pain leak through your teeth as you gently dab at your waterline, trying to make all traces of your sob fest vanish. 

Makeup worked for the most part when hiding your irritated eyes and the raw skin around them from crying so much. But when you cried while already wearing some, it made the evidence plain as day with the black streaks running down your cheeks. The only person who knows that your mom and her boyfriend treat you like garbage is Eddie—which means you have to take extra precautions when trying to hide the signs from him too. Eddie threatened many times to kick the shit out of your mom’s boyfriend. There have been a few times when he was high that you had to physically restrain him from heading out to find the prick. He hated how your mother treated you as well, but Eddie could never threaten a woman—even one as horrible as her. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cover the makeup has given you, you grab your keys and head out to your car. This had been one of the worst beratings you’d ever gotten and there was still a ringing in your ears from the vitriol they spewed. 

You think you’re better than us? Just because you graduated high school? Think you’re some big hot shot? You’re nothing. No one gives a shit about you. I gave birth to you and am obligated to love you—but you even make that difficult!

You imagine Eddie’s reaction if he found out. He’d again be trying to talk you into getting into your car or his van and just driving off together. Somewhere, anywhere. Most of the time the two of you said you’d drive to the beach, seeing as neither of you had ever seen the ocean before. The fantasy of Eddie kicking the ass of the douche your mom is dating and then whisking you away to the beach keeps you company on the ride over. 

Wayne’s truck isn’t parked beside Eddie’s van when you arrive, which means the older man has left for work already. The usual blaring of Eddie’s stereo that you can hear from outside doesn’t meet your ears as you step out of your car. You hoist yourself up the few stairs to the front door and rap your knuckles on it. There’s no answer. Leaning in, you definitely hear shuffling going on in there, though. You knock again.

“What?” comes a muffled bark from the other side of the door. Frowning, you push the front door open and step inside of what has become your second home. 

“Um, Eds?” His back is to you as you shut the front door behind you. By his hunched position over a lower shelf and the shuffling and scraping sounds reaching your ears, you can tell he’s looking for something. Frantically, if the frazzled eyes he gives you in the briefest of glances over his shoulder are any indication. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning immediately back to the task at hand. 

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” One of your hands twirls a keyring around your finger, while the other comes up to gingerly touch your swollen lower eyelid. 

“Now?” The groan accompanying his words takes you aback. There’s never been a single time that he’s made you feel like a burden or inconvenience. But the way he’s acting now is sure giving you that impression. 

“Are you busy?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Trying to find that ring with the skeleton hands holding the stone.”

“Why?”

“Because Chrissy likes that one.” He says it so absentmindedly, like he’s giving 99% of his efforts into finding the piece of jewelry, and 1% of them talking to you. 

“What’s it matter what ring you wear right now?” Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest.

Eddie groans again and opens another drawer. “To wear on our date tonight.”

The air rushes out of your lungs faster than when your mom landed a verbal gut punch at home. You thought you had a whole week to mentally prepare for Eddie going out on a date with the queen of Hawkins High. 

“T-Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Something came up for her next weekend, so we rescheduled it for today.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say without bursting into tears or punching a hole in the wall. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, turning around to finally face you. “So, you know, if you could just…” Eddie gestures towards the front door, obviously hinting at you leaving. 

“O-Oh. Yeah. I-I just need to talk to you about something,” you say weakly. “It will only take a minute. I-I promise.”

Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t have a minute. I need to find this ring. You and I can talk whenever. The date is tonight, though—it’s important.”

And I’m not, your mind adds. The pain in your eyes seems to throb even more, as if Eddie’s words are irritating them further. 

“Right,” you say. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles as he continues his search. It burns like a branding iron down your esophagus. You can’t count all the times that Eddie said to come to him whenever you felt low or like you wanted to run away or when you couldn’t take being at home any longer. It made you feel special. Now, he doesn’t even have the time of day to listen to what you have to say. Even if you shouted, “Hey, this is about the people who I live with that abuse me!” it probably still wouldn’t get his full attention. You’re not going to use that as an excuse, either. Not going to use it to get your best friend to talk to you when he clearly doesn’t want to and has better things to do. 

An idea pops into your head and it’s planted itself before you really even have time to consider it. Slowly, you walk back to the front door. But before you open it, you turn back to face him. 

“Can I just ask one f-favor first?” you say, doing your damndest to keep your voice from shaking. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

Pausing his perusing, Eddie heaves out a sigh and turns to face you, hands on his hips. “What?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Eddie takes the few steps towards you and pulls you in for a quick squeeze. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you still let your head rest against his shoulder, scrunching your eyes closed as you try and savor this moment with Eddie. Usually, his hugs are like a balm for your soul. But this one is rushed and half-assed. It’s clear he wants you to be gone. So after one last squeeze of him in your arms, you grab the front door knob and open it to the warm late spring day outside. Over your shoulder, you look at Eddie. He’s back to shuffling things around, pink tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he focuses on his task.

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

There’s no response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway. The two of you have been best friends for years. But you know the place that Chrissy holds in his heart and there’s no room for anyone else in that spotlight. It’s not the kind cheerleader’s fault, though. All she did was agree to a date with the best man you know. How could you blame her? 

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the trailer and close the door behind you. 

The first thing you do when you get back into your car is turn up the radio as loud as your eardrums can stand. Hopefully it’ll be enough to occupy your mind so it doesn’t wander and you don’t spiral even further. Melvalds is on the way home from Eddie’s, otherwise you probably would have skipped it. But, you think, you can also grab a candy bar or two to drown your sorrows in if you stop by the store. 

Luckily, no one you know is working at the store this evening. It makes it easier for you to grab the things you need and get out without having to have a conversation with anyone. On your way back to the car, the dumpster on the side of the building catches your eye, as it’s overflowing with garbage. They must have gotten a delivery earlier in the day because empty boxes also pile high out of the large green bin, many littering the floor around it as well. Without giving it much thought, you pop the trunk of your car before grabbing as many boxes as will fit in the cramped space before shoving them inside. You slam the trunk, giving it enough oomph to make it close despite the amount of cardboard you managed to cram in.

No one is home when you get there, which isn’t a surprise. Eddie would be occupied the whole night, so you know you’ll have no interruptions. Because who else would call or show up to see you? No one, of course. So, you lug the empty boxes into your room and take a look around the small space. Most of your belongings should fit in the boxes and the small suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack you have in your closet. 

Heaving a sigh, you get to work and start to pack up your room. What’s keeping you in Hawkins anymore? High school is over and your only college plans so far were community college—and they have those just about everywhere. Family was a mark against staying in Hawkins, and your friends were either going away to college or dating pretty cheerleaders that’ll have them forgetting all about you eventually. Why not have your own new start? 

There’s not a whole lot in your room to begin with, so most everything you own ends up in a box or a bag. It’s nearing three in the morning by the time you shove the bags containing your clothes behind the driver and passenger’s seats in your car. Figuring you’d end up sleeping in your car for the foreseeable future, you pack all your bedding into the backseat, creating a nest that you could curl up into when you were tired of driving. 

The boxes are heavy, but you manage to haul them to the driveway all by yourself. After stashing most of them into the trunk, you realize they’re probably not all going to fit. Gritting your teeth, you decide to give it the old college try and force them all in. Headlights turn down your street and you have to shield your face as the beams blind you. None of your neighbors are particularly friendly, so you know none of them will stop to see what’s going on. To your chagrin though, the vehicle starts to slow as it approaches your home. The closer it gets, you begin to hear the familiar squeak that churns out as the tires roll up. Eddie. Ice floods your veins as your mind scrambles to find something to tell him. What possible explanation could you have for loading up your car with all of your belongings in the middle of the night? But how do you tell him that you planned on skipping town without giving him a heads up first? 

You run out of time as the van comes to a halt and the thump of Eddie’s boots hits the pavement.

“Uh, whatcha doing?” Eddie drawls. The lights on the front of the van finally fade out and you can see him approaching you. There’s a confused yet amused furrow on his brow as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as he was when you saw him before, but now his leather jacket is thrown over it. 

“Nothing,” you say lamely as you throw your weight behind your attempts to close the trunk. 

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he leans against the side of your car. “Nothing? Because you always load your car up with boxes in the middle of the night. How could I forget?”

Deciding to just ignore him, even though you know that won’t work, you put your focus back on the task at hand. Eddie gives you a few moments, watching in amusement as you try to leap on top of the trunk. 

“What, are you getting rid of a body? Come on, who’d ya kill? You know I’ll help you out.” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he pushes off of the car and his eyes catch on the bedding you have in the backseat. “Wait.” He points at your comforter and pillows bunched up on the old worn seats. “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Maybe.” It’s petty and immature of you, but you’re still hurt by how easily he dismissed you before. 

Eddie’s jaw drops and he lets out a scoff. “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Honestly,” you huff out, momentarily giving up on closing the trunk, “I didn’t think you’d care very much.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his skull. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” you mumble. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to tell my best friend about my date,” he says, irritation clear in his tone. “But it seems like she’s mad at me for some reason.”

All you can do is stare at him. He seriously doesn’t know? He can’t figure out why you’re so upset with him? Anger boils your blood, thawing out the ice that previously resided there. 

“Well, I’m busy, Eddie. So, you know, if you could just…” Your eyes flicker over to his van, not so subtly quoting him from earlier in the day. 

It takes a few moments, but it finally dawns on him. He drops his arms to his side and has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

Some of your anger turns to irritation as you see his body deflate. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to give up all your vexation towards him. 

“You are.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps towards you, letting out a sigh. “You wanted to talk to me about something and I just brushed you off. I’m a pretty shitty best friend.”

Not quite trusting your voice, you nod your head. Eddie comes even closer and tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His lower lip is jutted out and he’s made his eyes somehow even wider. 

“Can you forgive me?” he asks.

You have to bite your lip from letting a small smile peek through. Even when he’s been an asshole and an idiot, he can still find a way to cheer you up. 

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie heaves an over dramatic sigh that you know is meant to keep the atmosphere around you light. 

“What about we talk about whatever it was you came by for, hmm?”

The suggestion suddenly sours your mood again. You’d managed to get the venom hurled at you pushed to the back of your mind, too focused on Eddie hurting your feelings. Now the vile words come back to you and your best friend immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. He knows the reason your body would tense up like that. It only serves to make him feel even worse about shooing you away before. Eddie lifts his eyes and scans the driveway before looking back at your house. “Are they here?”

“No,” you say softly.

“Good, I’d fucking lose it on them.” He takes a deep breath before ducking his head to meet your eyes. “How bad was it?”

The question is what gets the tears prickling in your eyes. You try to hide it, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to tug you closer to him and pull you into a hug. 

“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,” Eddie mumbles against your hair. 

“D-Did you know it’s almost impossible to love me?” you say with a hoarse voice. You clear your throat before you speak again. “And that I’m a pathetic waste of space that nobody wants around?”

“I do.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie when he says that, skepticism written all over your face. At first, the look puzzles Eddie. Then he remembers what he did when you originally came to see him and talk about the shitty things your mom and her boyfriend said to you. Eddie had just brushed you off, made you feel unimportant and that he cared about Chrissy more than you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You mean everything to him and the fact that he made you feel anything less than is absolutely eating him alive inside. 

“I promise I want you around all the time,” Eddie tells you. “There’s never a time I don’t want you around. I’m so sorry about before, sweetheart. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Is…is that why you were leaving?”

Without meeting his eyes, you nod your head. “Figured no one wanted me around. Was tired of being here,” you say, gesturing to your house behind you. 

Eddie nods his head and presses a kiss into your hair. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he walks around you and picks up one of the cardboard boxes you were trying to get in your trunk. Instead of assisting you with it, he steps away from your car with the box, and you look at him in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“This was never going to fit in there,” Eddie says, nodding towards your car. “Gonna put it in the back of my van.”

This confuses you more than anything. You watch him in silence, a frown etched into your brow, as he yanks open the back of his van and slides the box inside. 

“Why your van?” you ask.

Eddie gives you a look like the answer should be a no-brainer. 

“Because the boxes weren’t fitting in your trunk, and I have plenty of space in mine.”

“What?” Your brain feels like it has whiplash from everything that’s gone on today. Maybe Eddie was the one making sense and you’re just not getting it. “How’s it going to help me in your van?” 

“Well,” Eddie says as he walks over and picks up another of the boxes that you couldn’t make fit. “We’re going to have to stop at my place, anyway. I’ll have to pack up some shit to take.”

“Take where?” Your voice sounds about as flabbergasted as you feel. The fact that you’re becoming more and more sleep deprived isn’t helping either. 

“Wherever we’re headed,” Eddie says with a shrug. He slides the second box in beside the first one in the back of the van. “The ocean, I presume.”

“What?” you practically shout into the quiet, dark night. 

“You wanna leave, right?” Eddie asks as he closes the back doors of the van. “Finally leaving these assholes you live with, yeah?”

“I, um,” you stutter, not completely sure of what’s going on or what you should say. “Yeah. I-I’m leaving.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“And you really think I’d let you leave without me? Bullshit. We can crash at my place tonight then head out in the morning. Maybe plan a route over breakfast.”

“Wha—Eddie, no.” 

The refusal seems to confuse him. His brow pinches together as he leans against the side of his van. 

“What?” he asks.

“You can just pick up and leave. You have Wayne. And the Hellfire guys. And…Chrissy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a humorless chuckle. He shakes his head and makes his way over to you. Gently, he picks one of your hands up in his own and laces your fingers together. “The Hellfire guys still have the club when they head back to school in the fall. Wayne’s been saying you and I should get out of Hawkins for months now. And as for Chrissy?” Eddie shrugs and a knot forms in your stomach. “We’ve only been on one date. And yeah, I really like her. But I’m not going to pass up being on the road with my favorite person.”

Not only does the knot untie itself at your words, but it also seems as if the rope turned into little butterflies that are spreading their wings all throughout your abdomen. 

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to fight back the tears in your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, yeah?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t go getting a head start without me.”

“I promise.”

Eddie holds his pinky up to you. “Pinky promise?”

Smiling, you lock your pinky with his before letting your hands fall to your sides. Eddie takes one last look at your former home before striding over to his van.

“Thank God you’re leaving this place,” he says, eyeing every little detail of the house with disdain. Memories of all the times you called him crying because of something that happened within these walls flood you. It’s the reminder of all the kindness and love he’s given you over the years that really allows you to forgive him for his rude behavior earlier. It still hurts, but expecting Eddie to be perfect wasn’t fair to anyone. 

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” you ask as you finally get your trunk closed.

“Then you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Eddie throws you a wink before closing himself in the van.

Grinning to yourself, you slide into your own driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Munson.”

[schoenpepper]

Heartslabyul Heartaches: Clover

Intro: Heartslabyul is sick and tired of its own vice housewarden (except for Deuce, he really doesn't know what's going on).

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, pining

A/N: This almost took me out, I think Trey's gonna be on my ban list for a while. But I hope you like it, anon.

Masterlist

Oh. Oh that's...rather painful to watch, actually. What was it the kids said nowadays? Yikes?

Riddle thinks it's rather vomit inducing, if nothing else. The way you and Trey tiptoe around each other, somehow acting like an old married couple and a pair of first graders just experiencing puppy love at the same time. An impressive contradiction, if he were to be honest. He didn't think it could exist at first, but you and the green haired boy just happened to be living proof. He takes another sip of tea and sends another confused glare in your direction.

"This is so good! You're so talented, Trey." The way you put your hand on Trey's arm (Riddle would say subtly but it was not subtle at all) was so horribly flirtatious it almost makes Riddle spit out his tea. There was no rule on PDA in the Queen's rulebook, however, so he endures and stabs a strawberry with his fork instead of stabbing it through either of you. Trey blushes, hearts almost visibly forming in his eyes as he leans towards you with the plate of bite-sized tarts. "No, it was because you helped me make them that they taste so good."

Riddle's brows furrow in mild disgust.

"You should eat some too!" He watches numbly when you pick up a tart and hand feed it to his second in command. More blushing, more stuttering, but eventually, Trey manages to eat the thing with a giddy smile.

(May he collar Trey? Or you? Genuine question.)

The tea party wraps up and Trey is finally back to full working condition because of your absence (thank you for leaving). Riddle supervises the cleanup with Trey next to him, clipboard in hand. "So," Riddle sighs, "when will you be confessing to Y/N? I assume it must be soon, given your lack of propriety in a public space."

"Confessing? I don't see them that way."

He looks at Trey, both hands on his scepter because one half of him wants to use it to hit the man over the head and the other half wants to use it to hit the man in the stomach. Trey's face is a beautiful shade of 'lying lying liar who lies' pink, and he's avoiding Riddle's gaze with a sheepish grin. "Is that so?" Riddle asks dryly.

"There's...a lot of other people out there."

"What about it?"

"There's a lot of other people who can treat them better, love them better, than I can."

Riddle settles for whacking the scepter onto Trey's shoulder before leaving with a dignified huff. "Spineless, completely unworthy of the Queen of Hearts." He hears Trey laughing behind him.

Gross. Super gross.

"Yo, Trey, are you like, actually blushing and swooning and kicking your feet?" Cater laughs, watching Trey fumble to hide his phone. He'd already seen the image his friend had been staring at before, though, so it's not too hard to imagine why the other was acting like a schoolgirl (it's still stupid to watch).

"I am not."

Right. Cater doesn't have the mental capability to debate on whether or not Trey was giggling. Not when the words on his textbook are building a rollercoaster track in front of his eyes and setting up to ride it. "Whatevs. How did you get the answer for question 3?"

He looks up to see Trey sneaking a peek at his phone again.

"OMG, usually I'm the phone addict but this is like, insane." Cater dives over the table and steals the other man's phone, "You're staring at a text draft asking Y/N to hang out tomorrow? No, I don't think so, and send. There." He hands it back to Trey.

"What did you do that for?"

"So I can finally get my study buddy back, duh. It's like, literally painful to see you spending literal minutes just thinking on whether or not to invite Y/N to hang out. That's lame."

Trey sighs in exasperation. "So you did it for me."

"Obvi! Because I'm like, such a good friend."

Ace might throw up on the grass, or he might mistake his senpai's hair for it and throw up all over him. Fifty fifty, really. He watches you run across the field with Grim, passing a Spelldrive disc between the two of you as your laughter rang through the air. He glances at Trey to find him wistfully sighing like some medieval maiden.

When the disc comes hurtling in his direction because of a certain kitty cat, he finds himself embracing peace, and perhaps with his departure from this world, heaven would embrace him—

“Oh no! Trey senpai, are you okay?”

Ace opens his eyes again. He was pretty sure the disc was headed straight for his handsome face so…why is his toothbrush loving upperclassman now lying on a heap on the ground right in front of him?

Did he seriously dive in front of Ace to get injured? On purpose?

You run over worriedly and kneel over next to Trey, Ace watching on expressionlessly. A large red bump is swelling on his senior’s forehead, which you gently check with your hand. “I’m so sorry, I’ll help you get to the infirmary, okay?”

Ace swears he can see the slightest hint of a smirk on Trey’s face.

“Don’t you have history next period? I’ll help him,” Ace enjoys the panicked expression on the ‘patient’, but then he also sees your features morph into something like ‘don’t you dare take this away from me’, so he backs off. You…match each other’s freaks, apparently, so he takes a step back and grabs Grim from the field.

“Nya, why are you taking me from my hench human?!”

“Shh, your parents are flirting so I’ll take up babysitting duty,” Ace rolls his eyes, “They’re both pathetic.”

“Order. The first meeting shall now commence.”

Riddle strikes a wooden gavel (where did he get that?) and Deuce sits still because his confusion has yet to fade and really, he still has absolutely no idea why he, Ace, Riddle and Cater are sitting around a table with tea and snacks laid out in front of them. This couldn’t be a dorm meeting considering the rest of the dorm members, and even the vice house warden, are absent. “Uh, dorm leader,” Deuce speaks up nervously, “did Ace do something wrong again?”

“What? Why does it have to be me?!”

“It’s always you.”

“Lmao, y’all gotta calm down,” Cater laughs, “the topic of the day isn’t you or Ace. It’s Trey!”

Deuce blinks. “Is something wrong with Trey senpai?”

“He’s gross.”

“He’s cringe.”

“He’s a coward.”

The answers don’t actually answer his question, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to say anything else. Riddle looks tired, Ace looks genuinely disgusted, and Cater is staring into the void with what he can only describe as an old man sigh. He’s not the smartest person to have ever existed, but he knows enough that he probably shouldn’t be saying anything else at the moment. His housewarden strikes the gavel again. “Attention, we have gathered here today in an attempt to brainstorm ideas. Does anyone know how we should get Trey and Y/N to finally get together?”

“Lock them in a closet 7 minutes in heaven style~”

“Slip truth serum into their drinks.”

“Y/N and Trey senpai like each other?”

The other three give Deuce an exasperated look.

…He probably should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Trey looks at his reflection in the mirror. Pristine, crisp—he needs to look perfect, if only for you. He makes his way to the entrance of the rose maze with a large bouquet of red roses in hand. It’s a bad idea. Really, you might not even show up. His friends and dormmates have good intentions, sure, but whoever said good intentions meant good results? Now he’d been wrangled in a pure white tuxedo and in the gazebo that laid in the middle of the maze is a spread of pastries and the most expensive tea they had in the kitchen. And he’s ready to finally, finally confess, instead of hiding away and going back to his imaginations. In his fantasies, you’d smile and hold his hand and laugh with him, and he…

If you don’t allow him to even be your friend anymore after this, would his fantasies suffice?

No.

But, if the impossible happens, and you like him too, then maybe his fantasies would come to life. Maybe one day, he’ll be waking up in your arms instead of waking up from dreaming about you. But as Riddle said, the possibility ceases to exist if he doesn’t take the steps to make it happen.

You arrive.

And like every other time he’d seen you and breathed you in, he’s stunned.

You’re just so beautiful, in a way that his mind struggles to describe.

(He loves you, he loves you, he loves you until it hurts, he loves you until it’s deadly, he’ll love you until time stops, until that love consumes him from the inside out, Trey Clover will love you until he forgets what love is and remembers only you and how you make his heart beat.)

You accept his flowers.

You accept his heart as he lays it bare in front of you.

“You’re, stop—stop using me as an armrest!”

“Ehh, Riddle if you’re so loud they’ll hear nya~”

“You can peek perfectly fine without pushing me down!”

“I can, but that’s not fun!”

Chenya looks through the bakery window to catch a glimpse of the blushing couple. Trey, flustered and proud as he introduces you to his parents, and you happily chatting with them, nodding along as you accepted the pastries they were stacking up in your arms. “Let me go, I need to go back home.” Riddle seethes quietly.

“Mya, it’s not like you wanna go home, so why don’t we stay and watch Trey fumble? It’s funny.”

The redhead purses his lips, hesitates, and eventually peeks into the window next to Chenya. “If we get caught, it’s your fault and I’m just a victim.”

[thigholstercas]

So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.

4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester

Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband

Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.

5x04 - The End

Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.

7x17 - Born again identity

Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0

Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.

Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.

8x17 - Goodby Stranger

Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).

But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.

8x19 - Taxi Driver

This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something

8x22 - Clip show

The one guy that's always had your back.

9x22 - Stairway to Heaven

Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some

10x23 - Brother's Keeper

You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.

Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.

Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01

Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02

Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)

Cas texts? from 12x16

Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.

Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.

12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets

Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.

12x19 - The Future

This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.

But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)

And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.

12x23 - All Along the Watchtower

The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.

13x06 - Tombstone

This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.

13x14 - Good Intentions

Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.

13x20 - Unfinished Business

He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.

15x09 - The Trap

Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.

Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.

He's amazing.

15x18 - Despair

This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone

He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth

15x20 - Carry On

We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.

Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.

[wobblesthecowgirl]

Hii! I literally love your page so much! If you don’t mind, could you write an Arthur x Fem reader fluff?

So I was thinking, Arthur and the reader are close friends and she has feelings for him, like I mean she is HEAD OVER HEELS for him! But she thinks that he likes Mary-Beth or something and somehow he finds out about her feelings towards him and how she thinks he likes Mary-Beth and he confronts her and is like “I don’t like her I like you” and they kiss or something idk I JUST NEED HIM SO BAD RN😭

I Only Want You.

Arthur Morgan x Femreader

I apologise for the long delay! But thank you so much for your patience and request! I hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the love! <3

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“Why not write him a letter?”

Y/n was sitting on a log with Abigail under the sun, looking out to the beautiful scenery before them on the edge of the cliff. They were discussing Arthur, a common topic between the two, and Abigail was trying to convince her friend to finally confess.

“A letter?” She tilted her head.

Abigail nodded, “Yes! I mean, you love to write, and you’re too much of a baby to speak to him about your feelings. I think a letter is perfect. You can leave it for him without seeing his face.” 

Y/n thought about it and agreed it wasn’t a bad idea at all. She could sneak into Arthur’s tent with a letter telling him everything she’s always wanted to say, and wait for a response. So, she smiled and hugged her friend tightly, before standing up quickly and making her way to her own tent to begin writing. 

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This was harder than she thought. She assumed being able to sit and think carefully about what she wanted to say would be easy, but it just filled her head with more doubts. Before she could start her fourth draft, she heard a ton of horses outside and quickly hid the crumpled up pieces of paper. Most of the men were robbing a wagon and had just come back; from the cheers and laughs, she could only assume it went well. She got up from her chair and peeked her head out of her tent and almost screamed in surprise. Arthur stood right outside her tent.

“Oh! Mr Morgan, you scared me!” She laughed it off, a hand to her chest as he chuckled with her.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to tell you how the robbin’ went.”

“I assume it went well, given the smile on your face.” Y/n smiled as she looked around to the other men already cracking bottles of beer. The pair went quiet and the woman wanted to burst into a confession then and there. The sun was setting and it casted a orange glow to his face. His hat caused a small shadow over his eyes and his smile was small and earnest. The little wrinkles around his eyes and mouth only made him more attractive, and his moustache had been recently trimmed. 

“Well, I best get back inside now. I’m a very busy lady.” She excused herself. He smiled a little wider and watched her close the tent, almost disappointed with their short exchange. 

After their conversation, Y/n got back to her desk and this time, the words began to spill out onto the page with ease:

Dear Arthur,

Firstly, I must apologise. I am too much of a coward to face you, so I’ve resorted to writing this letter.

The truth is, I have fallen head over heels for you. You may not agree with me, but you are a good and genuine man. You’ve helped me in more ways than you could ever imagine. The day you rescued me from my burning horse from the O’Driscolls, I thought my life was over. But, to my surprise, it was the start of an even better life. I truly can’t thank you enough.

I don’t expect you to reciprocate these feelings, and that is ok. I wouldn’t want to ruin this friendship we have formed.

Yours, Y/n.

She kept re-reading it over and over again while a million what ifs ran through her head. What if he’s put off by the letter? What if he has someone already? What if he laughs at her? 

She shook her head. She had written it now, all she had to do was plant it in his tent and hide, wallow away in bed while her anxiety ate her up. She folded it and wrote his name on it before peeking her head out the tent again and tip-toeing to his tent. When she saw he wasn’t inside, she snuck in and placed the letter on his bedside table. 

Y/n felt satisfied with herself, until she saw a letter on his desk with the name ‘Mary Linton’. Her stomach dropped. Who was this Mary? Was she a lover? A relative? Feeling sick, she rushed out the tent, leaving her letter behind.

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“You alright there, Y/n?” Tilly asked her while she zoned out. It was now night-time, and her mind was eating her up all evening. The women were sat around the fire doing what they do best: gossiping. Of course, Grimshaw or Molly hadn’t joined them, but that was always the case. 

“Hmm? Sorry, yeah I’m good.” She brushed it off, taking a big swing of whiskey. The rest of her friends spared glances at one another. Karen piped up while also taking a swig of her own whiskey, “Yeah, I ain't buying that. You’ve been sulking all evening.” 

Y/n sighed and began biting her nails out of habit, wondering if asking them about Arthur was a smart idea. But she couldn’t keep letting the question eat away at her.

“Do any of you know who Mary Linton is?”

Mary-Beth looked surprised at the question, “Mary? You don’t know?”

Her stomach dropped again. 

“No I don’t.” 

Tilly shook her head, already feeling bad for her friend. Everyone but Arthur knew that Y/n had feelings for the older man, it was a miracle the man himself hadn’t figured it out. Tilly sighed, “She used to be his woman. About ten years ago now, but her daddy didn’t like him so it didn't work out. I keep telling him to let it go.” 

There it was. Her what ifs became reality. She couldn’t hide her disappointment and took another swig of the whiskey. And another. Then another one. 

“Slow down girl! You’ll end badly!” Tilly tried to grab the bottle out her hand but she moved it out of her reach. By now, Y/n vision was hazy and her head felt light. The smell of whiskey was strong on her breath but she felt a little more relaxed at least. 

“It’s obvious Arthur likes you back.” Mary-Beth tried to help her feel better, but all she did in response was roll her eyes.

“Oh please. Don’t get my hopes up.” She pouted as she finished the whiskey off. All the women were getting up and getting ready for bed but she decided to sit by the fire a little longer. Karen patted her back, “Please just take it easy. Get some rest soon.” And with that, she was left alone. She just stared into the fire, her mind restless, when she heard a twig snap. She snapped her head back and saw the root of her problems. He looked confused at her state. 

“Y/n? What are you still doing at this hour?” 

“Nothing.” She frowned, facing away from him, kicking a stone away despite being sat on the log. Arthur sat down next to her, his knee inches away from hers. 

“You smell of whiskey, doll. You been drinking too much to handle?” His voice was laced with concern, which only infuriated her more. Why care for her when he already had a woman he cared for? 

“Why do you care?” She sounded harsher than she meant to. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was her patience running thin. Maybe it was her disappointment. Either way, her response still shocked him. 

“Why wouldn't I?” He asked, and her heart kept sinking lower and lower. They fell silent, and Y/n heard him reach into his pockets and took out the letter. Her eyes widened as she tried to snatch it out his hands but he raised his arm higher. 

“Just leave it Arthur!” She shouted, still trying to grab it as he kept his arm in the air, a firm hand on her shoulder to push her lightly. 

“Why are you behaving like this? I just want to talk about it.” He tried to calm her down as she stopped prying at him. 

“I know about Mary.” She stated which caused his eyes to widen slightly. He glanced at the letter before folding it and putting it back in his pocket. 

“The women gossiping again?” He chuckled a little dry, so she only hummed in response. Their gossips were never wrong though, she thought to herself. 

“That's history, love. She was only writing to me to help her brother,  but I don't like her like I used to.” Arthur grabbed her chin much to her alarm, and gently turned her to face him, before brushing a strand of hair in her face out the way. 

That damn smile. 

“I love you too. I ain't need a silly little letter, you could've told me and I would've swept you up in a heartbeat.” 

It's like time stopped. The alcohol must've gotten to her head. She must've blacked out. Died even, and seen the pearly gates. 

But when he leaned forward, and softly kissed her, she felt more awake than ever. He pulled away before she could even react, and his face was bright red. 

“Was that a bad kiss? It looks like it was.” He coughed awkwardly. 

“No…no not at all. I'm just in shock. I didn't think you actually liked me.” 

He laughed light before leaning closer again, a hand on the back of her head, “I don't like you, sweetheart. I love you.” 

This time she kissed back, harder. Months of pent up tension between the two was finally being released. It was surprising the two didn't go mad.  

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They spent the rest of the night sitting next to the fire, holding hands, and Y/n rested her head on his chest as he held her close. His tumb traced her knuckles as she listened to his heartbeat. She felt protected, safe, warm, and comfortable. She could happily stay like that forever.

Unknown to the pair, the women of the camp were watching from a distance, with giant grins on their faces.

[wttcsms]

no but imagine a 2000s-esque romcom of a fic with journalist!reader and pro!sakusa. the very definition of an ambitious reporter, you get right down to business. except, it's not world news that you're reporting; it's something way more relevant and serves society much more: you're a celebrity gossip columnist.

okay, well you were a celebrity gossip columnist. however, a mega corporation ended up buying out a sports magazine and your beloved girly-pop magazine, and then decided to merge the two companies together to make some weird-ass blend of a publication. so, the focus on sports and athletics is still there, but the new managers want drama. something to get people to subscribe and to actually buy physical magazines again. besides having hot pics of shirtless athletes on the covers, they're requesting juicy headlines that can't be read anywhere else. you and every other writer has to be the first person to any story.

of course, it's a merger and with too many employees coming in from both former magazine companies, there will be cuts. everyone is trying to get the craziest story because everyone is trying to keep their job; you're no different.

fine. they want exclusive stories? then you, ever so ambitious, know who your mark is going to be: kiyoomi sakusa. he's the perfect target. he's rarely in the media for anything good or bad, everyone (from fans to haters) is hungering for any type of scraps on him, but most importantly, you have a bone to pick with him.

you overhear him at an event one day where he was complaining about journalists to his teammates. you think he's shit talking (he's just blunt but i wanted a darcy/pride + prejudice moment with sakusa!!! the misunderstanding that builds the prejudice u have against him!!!), and he's going on about how phony and annoying they are when they introduce themselves... it wouldn't sting as much, but five minute prior, you just got done introducing yourself to him!!! so, you're out for blood. you are going to crush sakusa with this article.

you know what they say: keep your enemies closer. so you build a professional relationship with kiyoomi first, gaining his trust, but somehow, this is the first time sakusa's ever felt seen by a person. he opens up to you. he starts telling you about his bad relationship with the media, how they all seem like vultures, ready to destroy him for no reason other than a paycheck, how you're different. he doesn't like doing much public media appearances or interviews because the media likes to blow everything out of proportion and he's not the type of person who's good at appealing to others.

your article is due SOON. you don't have another story lined up, and if that's the case, you better start searching for another job. you have to decide between your career or your relationship with sakusa. you choose him, of course, but before you can come clean about your original intentions, he ends up finding the draft of your article on him.

[adastra-sf]

Stephen King’s Top 20 Writing Tips

King is one of the most successful speculative fiction authors of all time, and among other honors won the National Book Award in 2003.

His memoir / writing manual, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, offers a wonderful look inside his writing process. Here are 20 rules for writing success gleaned from the book:

1. First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. “When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story. Your stuff starts out being just for you, but then it goes out.”

2. Don’t use passive voice. “Timid writers like passive verbs for the same reason that timid people like passive partners. The passive voice is safe. The timid fellow writes, 'The meeting will be held at seven o’clock,' because that somehow says to them, ‘Put it this way and people will believe you really know.' Purge this quisling thought! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin, and put that meeting in charge! Write, ‘The meeting’s at seven.’ There, don’t you feel better?” [note: something like "We meet at seven" is even more active.]

3. Avoid adverbs. “The adverb is not your friend. Consider the sentence, 'He closed the door firmly.' It’s by no means a terrible sentence, but ask yourself if ‘firmly’ really has to be there. What about context? What about all the enlightening (not to say emotionally moving) prose which came before ‘He closed the door firmly’? Shouldn’t this tell us how he closed the door? And if the foregoing prose does tell us, then isn’t ‘firmly’ an extra word? Isn’t it redundant?”

4. Avoid adverbs, especially after “he said” and “she said.” “While to write adverbs is human, to write ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ is divine.”

5. But don’t obsess over perfect grammar. “Language does not always have to wear a tie and lace-up shoes. The object of fiction isn’t grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story… to make them forget, whenever possible, that they are reading a story at all."

6. The magic is in you. “I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing. Dumbo got airborne with the help of a magic feather; you may feel the urge to grasp a passive verb or one of those nasty adverbs for the same reason. Just remember before you do that Dumbo didn’t need the feather; the magic was in him.”

7. Read, read, read. “You have to read widely, constantly refining (and redefining) your own work as you do so. If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.”

8. Don’t worry about making other people happy. “Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second to least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.”

9. Turn off the TV. “Most exercise facilities are now equipped with TVs, but TV—while working out or anywhere else—really is about the last thing an aspiring writer needs. If you feel you must have the news analyst blowhard on while you exercise, or the stock market blowhards, or the sports blowhards, it’s time for you to question how serious you really are about becoming a writer. You must be prepared to do some serious turning inward toward the life of the imagination, and that means, I’m afraid, that [the talking heads] must go. Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.”

10. You have three months. “The first draft of a book—even a long one—should take no more than three months, the length of a season.”

11. There are two secrets to success. “When I’m asked for ‘the secret of my success’ (an absurd idea, that, but impossible to get away from), I sometimes say there are two: I stayed physically healthy, and I stayed married. It’s a good answer because it makes the question go away, and because there is an element of truth in it. The combination of a healthy body and a stable relationship with a self reliant woman who takes zero shit from me or anyone else has made the continuity of my working life possible. And I believe the converse is also true: that my writing and the pleasure I take in it has contributed to the stability of my health and my home life.”

12. Write one word at a time. “A radio talk-show host asked me how I wrote. My reply—’One word at a time’—seemingly left him without a reply. I think he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking. I wasn’t. In the end, it’s always that simple. Whether it’s a vignette of a single page or an epic trilogy like The Lord Of The Rings, the work is always accomplished one word at a time.”

13. Eliminate distraction. “There should be no telephone in your writing room, certainly no TV or videogames for you to fool around with.”

14. Stick to your own style. “One cannot imitate a writer’s approach to a particular genre, no matter how simple what the writer is doing may seem. You can’t aim a book like a cruise missile, in other words. People who decide to make a fortune writing like John Grisham or Tom Clancy produce nothing but pale imitations, by and large, because vocabulary is not the same thing as feeling and plot is light years from the truth as it is understood by the mind and the heart.”

15. Dig. “When, during the course of an interview for The New Yorker, I told the interviewer that I believed stories are found things, like fossils in the ground, he said that he didn’t believe me. I replied that that was fine, as long as he believed that I believe it. And I do. Stories aren’t souvenir T-shirts or Game Boys. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered, pre-existing world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in their toolbox to get as much of each one out of the ground intact as possible. Sometimes the fossil you uncover is small, a seashell. Sometimes it’s enormous, a Tyrannosaurus Rex with all the gigantic ribs and grinning teeth. Either way, short story or thousand page whopper of a novel, the techniques of excavation remain basically the same.”

16. Take a break. “If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layoff to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings that it is to kill your own.”

17. Leave out the boring parts and kill your darlings. “Mostly when I think of pacing, I go back to Elmore Leonard, who explained it so perfectly by saying he just left out the boring parts. This suggests cutting to speed the pace, and that’s what most of us end up having to do (kill your darlings, even when it breaks your ecgocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.)”

18. The research shouldn’t overshadow the story. “If you do need to do research because parts of your story deal with things about which you know little or nothing, remember that word back. That’s where research belongs: as far in the background and the back story as you can get it. You may be entranced with what you’re learning about the flesh-eating bacteria, the sewer system of New York, or the I.Q. potential of collie pups, but your readers are probably going to care a lot more about your characters and your story.”

19. You become a writer simply by reading and writing. “You don’t need writing classes or degrees any more than you need this or any other book on writing. Faulkner learned his trade while working in the Oxford, Mississippi post office. Other writers have learned the basics while serving in the Navy, working in steel mills or doing time in America’s finer crossbar hotels. I learned the most valuable (and commercial) part of my life’s work while washing motel sheets and restaurant tablecloths at the New Franklin Laundry in Bangor. You learn best by reading a lot and writing a lot, and the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you teach yourself.”

20. Writing is about getting happy. “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink.”

[aluhnim]

Hello!! When you start a comic, how do you go about deciding your panelling layouts?? If this is too big of an ask for covid brain, how about your favorite song of the moment / a song that really inspires you?? I hope you feel better soon!

I was searching around for an old write up I did for some Original Character Tournament folks who were interested in my thoughts on panels and layouts. To try and answer your question, I go off of vibe now that I’ve made a LOT of comics. However, as much as it doesn’t seem like it at times, I do typically stay as “conventional” as possible to make sure my readers are still following the plot. I make a lot of adjustments along the way. Smarter layouts allow me to draw less, and drawing less is better for me in the long run! It’ll allow me to put more time in other places of the comic.

Anyway, here’s my write up back in the day that’ll hopefully answer some comic drafting questions!

More conventional paneling is a necessary stepping stone because you know your reader won’t get lost and the structure will have you more focused on flow and pacing. It seems remarkably easy to do comics with more “static” or traditional panel layouts but they work for a reason. There’s no real need to break out of something that works, unless you want to! Breaking out of the structure can really add some OOMPH to your important pages.

Some tips, note that these have been my preferences and some definitions don’t quite match their descriptors.

Bleed

I consider open panels or panels that stretch out beyond the edge of the page to be considered bleeds. They’re simple ways to make you feel like your not just sticking within your margins and making your page feel less static without much extra effort. Manga does this quite often, and Western American comics, especially during action packed moments or large splashes.

Some examples of things bleeds can do:

- They can also be used as transitions between pages (first panel bleeding in, last panel bleeding out).

- They can be used to interrupt or add a beat to a moment. Although the example below is mostly bleeds, you can see the one full panel at the bottom stands out because it’s not like the others. A subtle beat.

- They can also just be used to extend a panel to make it bigger. That seems obvious, but larger panels do make people spend a bit more time on them, regardless if there is text or not. Though, “more time” means probably several milliseconds or even a few seconds more than usual.

- Collaging with a bleed is a really great way to think beyond panels and open the space. You will be spending more time thinking of how much you can cram in along with the flow of how your text is going to lead through a series of images.

- Removing panel borders can really open a space and allow for more room without having to go above and beyond the ideas of comics and panels. (sorry, gale galligan is just good)

Gutters

The space between panels is almost just as important as the panel itself. That’s where readers and inferring actions and time. You can only control so much of what the reader is doing between their eye shifting between panels, which is why composition within panels and clarity are so important.

Gutters can also be played with! A simple example is changing your gutters from white to all black. It can be a subtle shift in time, a transition to a new space.

Even the amount of space between panels leaves an idea of time! I think webtoons/manhwa really work well with the gutter space, leaving you to physically scroll and feel the effects of time passing with the amount of empty space you encounter.

It’s important to understand that the gutter has a lot more to do with reader imagination, and your goal is to have them understand that the next panel is somehow plausible.

THIS SCENE EMFIELDS DID IS VERY FUCKING GOOD. TIME, SPACE, GO OOOOOOFFFF KING

Panels themselves can be a part story!

This one is a difficult thing to write for, since I feel like there isn’t many examples out there. There are very structural examples of panels out there, like Watchman. While the 9 panel grid was intentional, it also was likely the only way to deal with Alan Moore’s script effectively without missing details. The panels themselves don’t ENHANCE the story, but a means to an end.

But it’s also an incredibly good example of how conventional comics paneling can still be effective, especially when you start breaking that mold just a little bit.

But then you have comics like M. Dean’s “Baby fat”. Where the comic paneling itself never strays from its original structure, but is indicative of the story itself, representing tiles, mirrors, patterns.

Or Robert Hunter’s “The New Ghost” which he uses circular motifs and has circular panels representing the telescopes sight line.

Predicting Reader Navigation

These are my rules of thumb when doing general sight reading panel by panel.

1. Text is what people gravitate to first. It’s the context needed to approach the next panel.

2. Faces are next, this provides context to what the subject is feeling.

3. Familiar people/animals/objects and SFX.

4. Everything else!

This is an example of sight reading notes I gave to my friend Holocene when we were collaborating.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki + gf gives him a blowjob

☆—fem reader, SMUT, PWP, oral sex (giving/receiving), swearing, some degrading words, if you squint, maybe a bit of voyeur🙈

☆—a/n; i have been having a LOT of thoughts about bakugou katsuki, and while this was already written and saved in my drafts, i just needed this to be him, so here it is~🤭😉

"Iwannasuckacock."

The first mumble of words that leave your mouth as soon as he settles in the couch next to you are unintelligible for Katsuki to comprehend, but then the whole sentence gets clear when you repeat yourself after his "Huh?".

"I wanna suck your cock…"

Katsuki chokes on the water he was just swallowing at the moment. "W-what?"

You don't even dare to look at him, fingers fidgeting over your lap expressing how nervous you are; yet when he chokes, you smile amused, satisfied with his reaction.

"You dumbass... You did that on purpose," He cleans his mouth with his forearm, trying to gain some control over his wild thoughts.

"Don't act like you haven't thought about it," your face is so full of cockiness he just can't believe this is the same Y/N that a couple of hours ago blushed a deep red when he stole a kiss behind a cupboard door in the kitchen. He just wants to beat the shit out of you for being an ass right now and then kiss it better, hard. 

Feeling exposed by your words, Bakugou swallows dry, visibly anxious, and your face lights up with surprise and amusement. "You horny dog. You actually thought about it!"

"Well, I am now, you brat."

You smirk, then Katsuki follows the movement of your mouth when you bite your bottom lip. "And?"

"And, what?"

"Tsuki… I just want your cock in my mouth," he hates that stupid nickname you sometimes call him, but he hasn't time to be annoyed as you move closer to him on the couch, looking at him with those gorgeous, pleading eyes that only make him imagine how sexy and teary they would look once his cock is fully down your throat. He gulps again. "And guess what you have, silly."

Your hand lands on his clothed thigh, starting to rub up close to his dick and down to his knee.

"Y/N, don't," he breathes out, trying to hold on to the very little self-control he has left.

It's late at night, your other two roommates are all in their respective rooms. Probably sleeping already, probably not. The only ones in the living room still watching–or that's what he thought you were going to do–that movie are you and Bakugou. It was a boring movie if he was being honest, so he would definitely be a liar if he said that he hasn't been thinking about other, more interesting, things to do than watching that stupid movie.

"Come on, Tsuki... Please?"

Fuck.

That's all he can think when you drop to your knees in between his thighs, smiling innocently while saying those words and rubbing your cheek on his crotch area, where his growing need is pretty clear.

"Y/N, damn it, the others could-… Fuck," the sentence ends in a breathed insult as the woman between his legs yanks his hips a little to the edge of the couch, hands grabbing his sweatpants and pulling them down his legs.

Such a strength for a cute little thing, he thinks somehow proud. And horny.

You look up at Katsuki with lustful eyes, your face getting closer to his dick, your breath tingling all the skin of that area; and then you lick over the fabric of his boxers from the base to the clothed tip. A low growl escapes him as he watches your actions, the stupid clothes feeling too tight and the only thing he wants is to throw it away to give this gorgeous being in between his legs free allowance to whichever part of his body you want from him.

The lecherous smile that spreads on your face only indicates how badly in need of a good release he is probably looking like right now.

And Katsuki bites his lip, because you have to remember something.

His big hand slides from your cute, delicate face towards the back of your head, where his fingers tangle in your gorgeous hair, and he pulls it back, making you expose your delectable neck to him.

He smirks at the needy whine that glides from your lips.

Yes. Katsuki's the one in control. Always.

His lips attach themselves to your neck, kissing, licking, and nibbling the skin on their way up to your ear.

“Take them off, baby girl,” the low tone in his voice makes you squirm, your pussy pulsing in need inside your panties. You nod enthusiastically and he lets you go, his back resting comfortably against the couch while he watches you take his boxers off with the same enthusiasm in your hands and throw them somewhere in the living room. You're desperate, he can see it in your eyes; yet when you accomplish your work, you sit there, on your knees between his legs, cheeks flushed, eyes begging while biting your plump lower lip. You're waiting for his next order, and Katsuki smiles proudly.

“Good girl. Now, come here, baby. Make me cum with that slutty mouth of yours.”

“Fuck, yes,” you whimper in a whine, your hands caressing his thighs and face closing the distance between your mouth and his hard cock that lays over his stomach.

Katsuki's breathy swear turns into a low groan when you lick up the length of him. “Fuck,” your mouth opens and you shove his cock into the warmth of your mouth, and all he can think is ‘fucking finally’.

You hum in contentment, the vibration making him shiver, as your tongue licks around the head and your hand strokes the rest of him that isn’t in your mouth yet. You squeeze the base, earning a jerk from his hips that pulls more of his length inside.

"Shit, shit, shit…"

You lift your eyes and meet Katsuki's lust-blown gaze. That, and his rapid intakes of breath, only encourages you to keep going. Your tongue rolls around the tip, expertly knowing where to touch it to make him go crazy. You then suck him all the way into your mouth. "Baby…" He drops his head back, eyes closed, feeling the tightness of your throat so damn good that it makes him want to moan out loud, but Katsuki has to muffle the sound by biting the back of his hand. He really doesn't want any of your friends waking up.

You take him deep inside again, then out, and then in again.

“Fuck… You’re such an eager slut.”

His dick twitches and pulses, and you open your mouth taking him even deeper. Katsuki can feel the wave of pleasure starting from his tiptoes and rushing up his body fast. Fingers tangle in your hair and pull again. His hips begin to rise up and down quickly and with one more thrust, his orgasm shoots into the back of your throat.

He cries out in a low tone with every spurt and you hum in appreciation swallowing, making his body curl forward as you suck him through your release.

He ends up yanking your head off him and kisses you, tongue devouring your mouth full of his own cum. You moan into the kiss while getting up and straddling his hips.

“I fucking hate you,” Katsuki mutters against your lips.

You smirk, “I just made you cum, you don’t hate me.”

“No, you're right. I don’t hate you. I just wanna fuck the lights out you…” he smiles back.

Your needy whine fills the room as you start to rub your already wet pussy against him. "Please, please, please…"

He smirks wider. “You want it, slut?”

“Yes, God, please… Inside me,” you beg, lips ghosting his. His hands squeeze your cute ass, following and encouraging your movements. Katsuki smacks it once, hard, and you choke on a moan.

“Then that ass is gonna be mine.”

You giggle at his words, circling his neck with your arms as he stands up with you in his and starts his way towards your bedroom.

[brooooswriting]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Jenna Ortega x Reader fic. In which they were best friends as kids with the same dream of being an actor. Then by becoming an actress Jenna moved away from R because of her busy schedule. After several years without speaking to each other, they find themselves both engaged to play in Wednesday. PS: I love your work. Also sorry for the mistakes I don't speak English.

Long time ago

Jenna Ortega x reader

A/n: I still had this in my drafts and decided to post it, I don’t like the way it ends but I couldn’t think of something better. So enjoy :)

“Since when did you want to become an actress?” The interviewer asked the brunette in front of him, Jenna Ortega. “Oh, since I was a child. My best friend back then and I always had this dream of becoming actors and you know, take over Hollywood, I guess in some way it did come true” she answered, a smile gracing over her features.

It was you, you were the ‘best friend’ she was talking about you. It was your biggest dream to become and actress and by now you finally had some roles but you weren’t as big as Jenna. The girl who kind of ghosted you a couple of years ago, well 2 years and 4 months to be exact, but whose counting right? Well, you were as you were still hurt. It broke the both of you when she moved away from home for her new jobs but you never imagined her to stop answering at all, she texted less and less for 1 year’s until she suddenly didn’t reply at all.

“Mom? I have the role, I did it!! This could be my break through” you screamed into the phone. Your first big role, you were actually hired for the new ‘Wednesday’ series and you couldn’t wait. Sure, you had to move to Romania but it was definitely worth it. So, that day you packed your bag, happy to meet new people and finally show your talent.

Two weeks later you arrived in Romania, beforehand you had built up some contact with Emma Myers and Naomi over instagram. You had decided to meet up at the airport as you were all arriving around the same time, you could share a ride to the apartments and get to know each other more. It still wasn’t out who was going to play Wednesday herself and you couldn’t wait to find out.

About an hour later met both of the girls and made your way towards the apartments where you’d meet the rest of the cast. The mood between you three was pretty chill, it was noticeable that all off you were a bit nervous to meet the rest but nonetheless you were happy. “I heard that Cathrine Zeta-Jones is going to play Mortica” Emma told the two of you as you shared all the tea you’ve heard about the series.

After storing your luggage you went to meet up with the rest where Tim burton would finally reveal the actress that would play Wednesday. “Emma, Y/n, since you are the people that will be the closest to her you should meet her first” Tim said before he led you into a room where a certain person said. You would recognize that face everywhere, you froze, your breath slowed while your heartbeat quickened, while your face felt hot your arms where feeling so cold. The girl in front of you froze for a millisecond before recovering and greeting the third party in the room, Emma, who immediately noticed your weird behavior. “You alright?” She mumbled out in your direction, only earning a light shaking of your head as an answer. “Im sorry, I don’t feel good” you directed toward the director of the series, “oh, then you should probably go lay down, we can do this somewhen else. Get better” he told you before you speed walked out of the room, walking through your other crew members who were pretty confused. Emma and Tom looked after you with concern written all over their features, while Tim certainly was something special, he somehow felt connected to you and your behavior was more than weird to him. Jenna on the other hand couldn’t quite decide what/ how she felt, the only thing she knew was that she’d have to look for you after this.

“We’ll be friends forever right? No matter what, we’ll stay together?” Jenna asked you as you sat on a swing, your mothers sitting on a bench not far away talking about who knows what. “Friends forever, no matter what” you answered as she held out her pinky, intervening it with your. Both of you whispering out a “pinky promise”

The memory flooded in your head as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what to do now. The whole thing made your head and your heart hurt, so you plugged in your headphones, hoping that they’d make you stop thinking.

“I think we’d make great actresses, we’d be very believable” you told the brunette as you were coloring at the table in the living room. “Of course, we could always play the best friends” she grinned as she looked at the picture you drew, “yeah, after all we are best friends forever, right?” You said holding out your pinky, hers wrapping around yours, “pinky promise”

Memories clouded in your head that night when you fell asleep, exhausted from the tears and the overthinking. The next morning you were the first person awake, as you also were the first person asleep. You made your way into the kitchen to make yourself a coffee and sat down on the small balcony with your script as you watched the sunrise. A small ‘good morning’ came from behind you shortly before the sun was completely up causing you to turn around, in front of you Jenna.

The girl sighed when you immediately stood up and went upstairs again. She understood that you were mad at her but you would have to talk to her when you worked together. At the moment you didn’t seem to show any signs of budging.

You went upstairs into your room again where you sat on the end of your bed resting your upper body against the headrest. The script in your hand was slightly shaking as your eyes watered. You didn’t know how you should be able to work with her when you could barely talk to her.

The next time you exited your room the car to drive you to set arrived. You squeezed in the back next to Emma and Noami keeping up slight smalltalk so it wouldn’t get too awkward. It was rather obvious that there was something wrong between you two but nobody wanted to make things worse so they kept quiet.

It went like this for over two weeks, you talked to the others and tried to keep your distance from the brunette but as the filming went further it was harder and harder and it was obvious that it took a toll on you. That night there was a knock on your door and you already dreaded who was gonna come inside but invited them in nonetheless.

“Hello hun” it was Cathrine. You smiled as you greeted her back while she wandered around your room until she sat down on your bed next to you. “How can I help you?” Your voice was polite as it always was when you talked to her, she was like a mother figure to you. It was weird, honestly, she hugged you when you first met and since then there was just a connection. “I wanna talk to you about something that seemed like an obvious problem to all of us, we’ve seen how it takes a toll and you and we want it to become better” you sighed already knowing what this is about. You pulled your blanket up higher until half of your face was covered. “I don’t wanna talk about it” you mumbled into the blanket as a hand stroked your arm. “What happened between you two hun?” Another sigh followed before you decided that there was no going back.

“We used to best friends, a long time you know. We’ve always wanted to be actors, together but she made it wayyyy before I did and that has never been a problem to me. I was proud, the only thing I wanted was to stay in contact and we did for a small but until she suddenly ghosted me. No text, no call, not even an answer on my texts. She left me like I was nothing, while she was my best friend, maybe even more than that. But I was nothing to her” you had to hold back your tears, you didn’t want to cry and kept telling yourself that Jenna wasn’t worth it, but oh how she was. “That sound terrible and there are barely any excuses that could make what she did okay but it’s also hurting her. Maybe you should talk to her, listen to what she has to say for herself. You can either be friends again or you’ll at least get closure” you laid your head on her shoulder as you nodded slightly.

“Now let’s get down, we are having drinks” she pulled you downstairs without any regards to your unwillingness. “Look who I found upstairs” she called out causing the others to applaud and you to blush, the blush got even worse when your eyes met Jenna’s. “Come on, Gwendoline is making drinks” Emma said and pet the spot next to her.

It didn’t take long for everybody to be a bit tipsy while you were a bit more than tipsy, you were babbling and rambling while everybody was laughing. When your face suddenly changed the only person who noticed was your old best friend. She knew that look, and wasn’t surprised when you suddenly stood up and walked away, nobody else seemed to notice in their intoxicated mindset.

So she was quick to stand up and follow you upstairs where she found you, unsurprisingly, howling over the toilet. “Did you already throw up?” She asked as she kneeled behind you, the answer was a slight shaking of your head. “Then let’s wait a bit longer, shall we?” She said as she rubbed your back. It was unknown to the actress if you were to drunk to realize who she was or if you just needed the comfort, but she took what she could get.

About 20 minutes later you didn’t feel like throwing up anymore, so she helped you up and took you to bed, hers not yours. She wanted to make sure that you were fine and it was closer. “Why did you ghost me? I loved you so much and you just disappear. Why? Do you know how much that broke me?” You slurred when she sat you on the bed. “I’m sorry, I was overwhelmed and I was in love with you and I was scared that people here weren’t going to accept me and that you weren’t going to accept me when I told you, so I thought that if I break any contact that I’ll forget about you. But I never did, I still love you like the day I left. Every damn day I thought about that stupid smile you had when I FaceTimed you or how your eyes sparkled when we saw a dog outside, the way my heart fluttered when you texted me and when you held my hand. It was like everything was you” she guessed that you’d forget about all this in the morning. “You could have just told me. We could have been a power couple” you grinned before falling back on the bed and falling asleep.

The next morning you woke up in Jenna’s arms which made your heartbeat quicken at least until you noticed the unbearable headache and groaned. The sound caused Jenna to wake up, “headache?” She asked as she untangled herself from you to reach over you. You grabbed the water and the pills from her hand and mumbled a small thank you. “Do you remember what I said yesterday?” She asked with hope in her eyes, the way it felt to have you in her arms was just right. It was like it was made to be, like you were a puzzle that was finally done. “I do, most of it I believe at least” you mumbled as you drowned the rest of the water. “Maybe we should-“ before she could finish someone knocked on the door. “Guys you are late! We will be picked up in 10 minutes” that made you two jump from the bed and run to get ready.

The day on set was awkward, there was a lot that you two had to talk about but you couldn’t be alone for even 5 minutes. And to make it worse, today was the filming of the first kissing scene.

You laid on the ground in the middle of the woods, you had big cuts all over your body and fake blood was everywhere. Jenna was kneeling down next to you, her hands on your wounds. “You will be alright” she said in her Wednesday voice, but you shook your head. “I won’t. There is no way anyone will come in time but at least I get to spend the last minutes of my life with you” you chuckled weakly. “You are not going to die!” She said but you both were sure you would. Your eyes started to drop slightly, “stay with me” she said before her eyes roamed your face.

She suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours in a slow but passionate kiss. When she pulled away your eyes opened again as you smiled at her before they dropped shut and sirens could be heard.

After the director called cut Jenna helped you up from the ground. “That was great guys, go get cleaned up before we film the next scene” you nodded and went away to the makeup trailers but you pulled her away before you arrived. “Can we please talk about this? I can’t concentrate” you pleaded with a hand on her waist. “I don’t think there is a lot to talk about” your heart broke before she continued “I like you, you like me. So let’s do on a date. I wanna make right what I fucked up before” you smiled as you nodded before leaning in kissing her with your hands around her waist.

“Yes!” And “finally” could be heard around you causing you to break apart. The crew stood around you which made both of you blush and Jenna try to hide her head in her chest while they laughed.

This was the beginning of something great

[copperbadge]

I'm starting to think one reason (of many) you're such a good writer is you think in words instead of mental images. It could make it easier to express yourself in words to other people. When I write I have to try to fully express what's on in the three dimensional, surround sound smellovision cinema in my head, and I will never be able to do that.

I do wonder -- whether for good or ill it has definitely had an impact. (For new readers, I have aphantasia, the lack of a "mental eye" or inner visual world, which you can read more about in the "aphantasia fantasia" tag; it's disproportionately common to neurodiverse individuals, along with poor autobiographical memory). I don't know if it's better training for expression, because without knowing how words invoke mental images I don't really know how effective I'm being, but I think it does make for easier first drafts. And probably some of the popularity of my fanfic in specific is that it allows people to project a good deal onto the story/characters, because I tend to keep the visual details vague.

One of the longest-running complaints about my work is that it's much of a muchness, all my characterizations and stories are the same. While on the one hand that's obviously not a compliment, I think that is also attached to the fact that I'm not very visually specific, so not entirely my fault; if people are reading the same things into my work over and over it's probably because of a lack of imagination on their part as well. (I've tried to work on this as a skill, but I'm aware that haters gonna hate, so I don't take envy-driven criticism too much to heart anymore.) I think it's less homogeneity than it is simple vagueness.

But yeah also I would imagine if you're driven to give a very specific visual impression it would be SUPER frustrating if you feel like you can't, either because there aren't words or because you don't feel you have the skills yet. A lot of skill in writing is just practice, but "just practice" is a real minimizing phrase. I'm not someone who subscribes to the idea that talent doesn't matter, because I think it does; I think it's much easier to practice when you derive pleasure from the thing you're practicing, which I think is linked to talent.

Yeah, I dunno. Certainly it explains why most of my early adult writing was in theatre, where you're leaving a lot up to the designers and director in any case.

Rutherford & Fry did a podcast episode about aphantasia that I should probably get back to listening to, but I can't listen to much of it at once; some of it is the sense of being perceived, but some of it is also envy, because they talk to someone who has aphantasia but not ADHD and she's like "Yeah my mind is super quiet, it's nice" and I may not see images or hear noises in my head but still somehow manage a truly inconvenient level of chaos there. :D

[sleepyone2three]

This has been sitting in in my drafts for forever so I decided to finally finish it up! Thus, may I present:

How the demon bros would react if Lucifer had locked them away instead of Belphie

Can we talk about how lucky Lucifer was that it was Belphie he locked up and not one of his other brothers? Of all the sins, sloth is probably the best suited to being trapped in an attic. He can sleep the entire time and be giving into his vice at the same time. Meanwhile, if it had been any of the other brothers things could've been so much wilder! Just thinking about it has me rolling to be honest, so I decided I had to write this 😂

Mammon

Mammon would go stir crazy so fast. The only reason he hasn't completely lost his mind is the fact that Lucifer didn't bother to take Goldie away when locking him up. He has so many mental lists of the things he'll buy as soon as he's out.

Honestly, Mammon would probably whine a lot the entire time he was there too. He'd be bored out of his mind and unable to spend/get any Grimm. What kind of torture is this???

Lucifer honestly might get so annoyed with it that he'd resort to cursing Mammon so he can't talk. Ah... peace and quiet finally. This probably only leads to Lucifer feeling uneasy though since Mammon being quiet usually means he's thinking up new schemes or causing trouble.

You think Belphie got lucky with how trusting MC is? Mammon is probably one of the worst liars... ever. Mams is doomed, no way MC would be falling for any of his tricks.

This doesn't mean MC still wouldn't help though. They're horrible about sticking their nose in other people's business, even if it is well intentioned. So you know they're still going to get involved in all of this somehow.

I think Mammon would use MC to the point of getting out, but I can't see him planning to kill them. Lucifer already locked him away for being pissy about the exchange program, imagine what he'd do if Mammon killed Diavolo's precious exchange student *shudders*

Even if Mammon did hate humans, he's too soft to stick with that hate after getting to know MC. He'll probably try to rationalize that this one is an exception to the rule, his amazing influence being the reason of course.

The only plus side to all of this is that the witches and debt collectors can't find him.

Levi

Why did Lucifer lock him away in the first place? Dude is already a shut-in so he wasn't actually planning on doing anything. Maybe saying he would sick Lotan on Diavolo before allowing a normi human in their home was taking things too far though...

Honestly, as long as Lucifer at least left him with a gaming console and some anime, he'd probably be fine. Though, he would be very upset about not being able to keep up with the latest releases.

Levi would stress so much over if Mammon had sold his games and merch. The only way to stop him from spiraling with this would be if Lucifer promised to lock Levi's room with an equally powerful barrier.

Also freaks out that nobody will feed Henry 2.0 and his best friend will starve to death. Lucifer isn't totally heartless though, so he promises he will make sure Henry is well cared for until Levi has come to his senses.

Would probably plan to kill MC once out, but after talking about anime/games with them he isn't as sure anymore??? They seem to like the same stuff as him and don't call him gross... no! It must be some sort of ploy to gain his trust! This was just like in an anime he'd watched a while ago, Help! I've Been Locked Away By My Strict Older Brother And Now A Human Is Taking Over The Underworld! Ah, how life immitates art sometimes...

Satan

Oh geez, Satan would be furious if this happened. You think, he hated Lucifer before? Get ready for a whole new level.

Where does Lucifer get off, thinking he can get away with this!? Locking him away like this program isn't utterly delusional from the start anyway! If Satan didn't know better, he'd say that the elder brother had planned this from the beginning of even developing the exchange program. But that would require Lucifer to pull his head out of his own ass, so it's definitely not the case.

I mean... he'd have plenty of reading time at least? He's fuming to the point of having destroyed the entire room already, but he'll still be able to read plenty afterwards.

Lucifer tries to nudge Satan in a more positive direction of thinking, dropping off books that try to exemplify the beauty and potential of humanity. For the first time in his life, Satan refuses to even consider reading multiple books. Would possibly even consider destroying them in front of Lucifer, but I'm not sure he could actually go through with it.

Would 100% plan on and go through with killing MC once out. They'd have to really make an impression and connect with him if there's any chance to have things go otherwise. Even then, it's unlikely to stop this outcome. Consequences be damned, he will have the satisfaction of seeing how delicious Lucifer's expression will be upon seeing Diavolo's little pet project go up in flames.

Would take not getting to see his kitty friends pretty hard. He misses them and sometimes worries there isn't anyone else feeding/giving attention to them with him gone. If MC really wants to get in good with Satan, offering to check in on the feline population of the Devildom might be a solid starting point.

Satan does have to admit though, MC is an interesting human if nothing else. Unafraid to go against Lucifer's orders? Likes reading as much as him? Snuck a cat in to see him??? M-maybe they aren't the worst...

Asmo

I'm pretty sure his online following would form a search party if this happened. Radio silence from Asmo's accounts is unheard of and Lucifer better have an official statement about Asmo being in the exchange program if he doesn't want hordes of lesser demons showing up outside of the House of Lamentation.

Asmo's never really had to "rough it" and living without all his beauty products within reach is going to make him even angrier at Lucifer. This only gets worse the longer he's kept there, every flaking skin cell fueling his rage.

Gets a single zit and somehow finds a way to blame it on a human being in the house. Dramatic sniffles and crying commences as he's trying to sway Lucifer with his theory, though the elder seems less than convinced.

Would probably consider agreeing to the program once he's been without his products long enough, but is also called out on lying by Lucifer.

Baby boy would just be all smug and waiting for Solomon to try summoning him, thinking there'd be no stopping him from leaving at that point. Too bad Lucifer took this into consideration. Solomon is now mildly concerned and very curious what the heck this exchange program actually entails of the participants that could null the effects of a pact. Asmo's just whining about how cruel and unreasonable Lucifer is to do such a thing. And would you look at that? Lucifer's headache just got worse.

MC won't have to do much to begin swaying Asmo if we're being honest. This is especially so if he's feeling like he's become less attractive due to not being able to keep up his hourly daily self care routines and regimens for so long. Just sitting down and treating him like he's worthwhile even when he's "an abomination," will go a long way. Sneaking him some decadent lotion or products he mentioned offhandedly will seal the deal though.

They cared enough to actually listen when he looks like this? Even though they're not affected by his powers?? Maybe he was a little quick to shun the idea of the program... at the very least, they could make an adorable new plaything! Just thinking about all the makeovers and sleepovers had him feeling a little excited!

Beel

He ate his way out.

I don't know what else to say, even Lucifer isn't powerful enough to stop such an appetite. Besides that, no demon in their right mind at RAD would be down with their star Fangol leaving for an exchange program!

But in all seriousness, Beel is a simple demon with simple pleasures. MC just needs to bring him some food and show him that they aren't a monster who's out to hurt his family. Man just doesn't want to lose anymore family and was a lil hangry is all. Lucifer's the one who overreacted to the whole display.

On the plus side, the House of Lamentations food budget actually managed to build up a decent reserve while Beel was locked away. So you can be sure there's going to be the most amazing and decadent feast anyone has ever seen once he's out.

Belphi

Just glad it's not him I suppose 😂

Though he may actually be low-key jealous that it's not him. Just thinking of how much he could sleep without being woken up has him rethinking his stance on the exchange program.

But MC is so sweet and makes a good cuddle buddy/pillow for his naps, so he can't be too upset.

[lemonbitrambles]

Sorry, real life caught up with me for a moment there, anyway If you don’t know what this is it’s a personal cast of forgotten Disney characters I put in wasteland and we’re going through wonderland right now.

This is Ella, who is a special case because she is not from the original wonderland movie drafts nor is she even from the franchise. Ella the elephant is from the scrapped movie called Wild Life (developed in the late 90s, shelved in 2000) The movie followed Ella as diva-pop sensation named kitty, and a club owner named red try to get her to became a singer.

The art from the movie development I used was drawn by Darryl Kidder, Floyd Norman, and Hans Bacher

More art and rambling under cut (I talk about why I added her into wonderland in the first place)

Okay the plots a lot more convoluted than that, Ella gets accidentally electrocuted into thinking she’s a pop star and kitty has a scene where she thinks Red is trying to seduce Ella. The movie was known for its mature edge and odd look. Which leads to the first reason I added her to the wonderland cast. Many believe the movie was shelved for being too weird/“out there” and was consider an unsafe investment for the fear of it trying to appeal to a smaller audience than most Disney movies at the time.

That’s the perfect fuel for a wonderland character in my opinion. I really want to go into why some be if the characters where forgotten and Ella’s actual history has a lot of affect on how I write her. In the original movie, she left stardom, much more comfortable with her life at the zoo. But after being forgotten I imagine she misses the ye old razzle dazzle the night life setting her movie had since all of her previous friends are gone. She finds comfort in wonderland and it’s quirky cast of characters that remind her of home. She’s also seen as a voice of reason in the small village, since she’s one of the few who isn’t that wonderland type of mad.

Another reason I made the caterpillar this random elephant from a scrapped 2000 movie is because I wanted to show how some characters have changed for the better or worse over the time. It was also just a lot more interesting than trying to find a caterpillar and sticking him in there. Perhaps the adventures in wonderland caterpillar would like to read a story to Mickey and Oswald who knows-

Outside of wonderland she also gets along with other characters, such as someoneihaventmentionedyetbutperhapsilltalkabouthimsoonireallywantto-

Ummmm she showed up in Meet the Robinsons along with a few other characters (actually it may only be one I can only identify one)

She wouldn’t say this to anyone because somehow it would start a war,but the wonderland residents she gets along with the best are Mock Turtle and Griffon.

And here’s a picture of her and Chopsuey/621, who was one of the first characters I added but I have no where to put him (he’s one of my favorites though, stitch’s edgy brother with daddy issues, I have so much art of him. Chopsuey enjoying a field of flowers in 4k)

That’s it that’s my gal

[crippy-tangerine]

-> We are kind of imploding right now excuse us-! This is basically just a ramble/vent about personal medical stuff (diagnoses/misdiagnoses, ableism, trauma, etc.). Feel free to skip this 👍 (/genuine).

Not to sound like we are in denial about being diagnosed with FND, but the way we’ve been diagnosed with it just feels like a dismissal of our physical issues that we categorically could not be consciously/subconsciously creating (which is what we’ve been told we are doing, and is why we “have FND”, allegedly). Like the hypermobility issues we have always had, the gastrointestinal issues and diagnosed malabsorption issues that we’ve had since we were 6, and the chronic pain and fatigue that we frankly refuse to even consider we somehow “fabricated” (which is so shitty to even have said to us but whatever).

No amount of “subconscious” creating of symptoms would make us able to keep up gastrointestinal symptoms for that long beforehand (we allegedly got FND when we were 16 because that’s when we noted our pain levels getting worse, which is such bullshit because it was such a throwaway sentence in our notes and now we have this massive diagnosis based on it, which ignores everything fucking else, but ok!!), or make our joints overly flexible so we can lift our feet to the top of our head or pop our shoulders out of their sockets at command, but again, whatever, the people who’ve known us for 30 minutes obviously know better!! (/heavy sarcasm, but also /not exaggerating- the guy who saw us literally read a summary of a few of our symptoms, checked our reflexes and went “yep it’s FND, ok, that’ll be almost a month’s worth of your money please!” like oh….. fuck you, actually.?).

And yet- we have been officially diagnosed with FND today, it’s on paper. And that makes us (me?) so ridiculously angry, because the process of earning this diagnosis has been a series of medical traumas, dismissals and frankly a lot of ableism. At this point, genuinely do not care for the input of anybody other than us on the subject of our physical health. Or mental health actually. Any aspect of our health. Just feel so dehumanised all the time (we have had alters born from specifically that feeling because it’s been so fucking extensive). We have been poked at and prodded, mentally and physically, on almost a weekly basis for the last five years. We are so, so tired. Absolutely fed up. Unfortunately we do not have the privilege of being able to survive without medical-system supports in place though. So all we can do is just,, engage on a surface level and refuse to give any extra information than we are required to. Except we will have to give extra information literally tomorrow if we want any actual help for our physical health (that we apparently should just “do CBT” for (if he had bothered to ask anything about us he would know we have had around 4 different courses of that therapy, and it makes us even more unhinged because apparently nobody knows anything about autism????)). Actually going to become an eldritch horror over this.??

We have many choice words about the medical system here, and how it functions in general, so you can imagine that our words are even less kind for how they treat disabled people… 🙃.

Just frustrated and livid at everyone in the medical system even if they’ve not personally wronged us,, because hahahah trauma!!! (We are aware not everyone who works in medical care here is evil incarnate we just cannot afford to give people the benefit of the doubt anymore.)

*screams in “unable to advocate for ourself and nobody else knows enough about us to do it for us”*- like we type real well on here because we have the time to draft, edit, rewrite 5 times, reword again and then finally post a semi-formed thought?? In person there’s this pressure to give responses in a matter of seconds or you’re told you’re being difficult/slow/whatever else people want to throw in your medical chart to hang over you for the literal rest of your life.??? Just. GRRRRR. Going to try and write something up semi-formally tonight before we explode all over the place like a rage-balloon.???

[lale-txt]

♡ DILFS DILFS DILFS: standing on your tiptoes to reach his lips w/ Roger & gn!reader

a/n: requested by @overpoweredrogersimp ♡ big beefy man delivery right to your doorstep... i went with your original request since i already had it in my drafts (≧ω≦)ゞ it's slightly suggestive in the second half (still SFW) because that's what just naturally happens when writing Roger oops–

word count: 1.4k

Roger was nowhere to be found. 

By now you probably searched the whole Oro Jackson for him; you even got Shanks and Buggy involved in your search but they got distracted by bickering at each other and ended up in Crocus’ infirmary because one of them had to get patched up. You had asked every crew member if they’ve seen the captain. Gaban looked at you from over his sunglasses and shook his head and Rayleigh frowned, mumbling something about how Roger better not have gone overboard but immediately regretted his words when he noticed your alarmed expression.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Have you searched for him in the captain's quarters?”, he asks, adjusting his glasses and you pout. “Of course I did. That’s the very first place I looked for him. Seriously, how can someone his size just disappear?” “Well, go and look again”, Rayleigh replies calmly and winks at you. “Usually we find lost things in the very first spot we searched for again.”

You roll your eyes at the old man's advice but still decide to go for it. What did you have left to lose when you already lost the most precious thing in your life? Maybe you were being dramatic. But didn’t Roger know this was an emergency? Hello? You haven’t been kissed for three hours by now, were you being punished and if yes, what for? Was he upset because you were still laughing about how he got stuck in the water slide the other day because of his hairy ass? Didn’t he know that you adored said ass? You couldn’t even walk past it without giving it a little slap and watching it jiggle so deliciously…

Making a beeline towards the captain’s quarters, your heart is about to jump out of your chest somehow. Rayleigh’s comment about going overboard nagged at you, even if the chances were low that it could actually be a possibility. Roger was the strongest and on top of that his presence was vibrant, drawing souls to him as if he was the whole sun.

But he was also terminally ill.

The captain came to terms that he only had little of life left to live a long time ago, you on the other hand… not quite yet. It haunted you. Imagining to wake up without him one day made you feel as if you’re suffocating, every fiber of your body refusing to believe that this was inevitable. You speed up your steps, tears now welling up in your eyes. Crap. Please, be okay, please, please, please…

“Roger!”

You don’t bother knocking, just burst through the door of the captain’s quarters, prepared for the worst. Through your teary eyes you can only make out shades of light and silhouettes, but there, without any doubt, he was. Usually you hide your worries from your captain, but just now you let out a relieved sob, then take a few big steps towards him and fling your arms around his waist, crying into his broad back. 

“Oi, little one, what’s the matter? Are you hurt? Should I get Crocus?”

Roger sounds startled, his voice full of worry. He reaches for you and turns around, hugging you tightly against his torso while a big hand comes to your back, rubbing it soothingly – which only makes you cry harder.

“I’m sorry for what I said about your hairy ass, but please–”, you whine and clench your fists around his pink open shirt, accidentally ripping out some chest hair, “–please never hide from me again! I was worried sick about you, I thought…”

You bite your lips and swallow the rest of the sentence, just sink deeper into his embrace and feel the tension falling off your shoulders now that you could feel him very much alive. Roger does his best to comfort you, whispering sweet nothings with a low voice while he continues rubbing your back with his huge hands. He waits patiently until your hiccup from the crying stops, then holds you an arm length away from him to seek your gaze. You blink at him through a still hazy vision.

“Now… you thought I was hiding from you? How come?” He tilts his head a little to the side, an amused smile on his lips as he brushes away some of the salty streaks on your face. You lean into his touch like a love-starved kitten. 

“See, when I returned from the bathroom, you were gone without a trace! The bed was unmade and cold, as if you left in a hurry… and when I went to look for you everywhere, it was as if you vanished! Usually you’re always right there when I call…”

Roger nods along sympathetically, then ruffles his own hair, guilt written all over his face for making you worry. “See, love… you kept me up all night.” He smirks at you and vivid images from last night flash in front of your eyes again, making heat rise in your cheeks. Oh. “And when I rolled over, you were gone so I assumed you went to the kitchen maybe, grabbing us a snack so we can continue with new energy… or have me bend you over the kitchen counter maybe…”

Now that sounds promising… you feel your thoughts trailing off and force yourself to stay present, gazing at Roger’s lips as he continues to explain how he just went back to bed after not finding you in the kitchen; how he took a nap and just thought to himself it would be the best to wait in the place you last saw each other because eventually you’ll return back there too, right?

“So that old man had a point…”, you mumble to yourself and take a mental note to listen to Rayleigh’s advice more often. Roger looks at you slightly confused, but you shake your head and smile. What mattered was that you found each other and that you both were alive and well. And now that the images from last night were dancing in front of your vision once again, you wouldn’t mind continuing where you left off…

You let your hands wander over his torso, taking in every inch of him, then stretch out your hands to grab his collar and pull, aiming to make him lean down to your lips. Seriously, why doesn’t a man his height come with a step ladder? He doesn’t move a bit and now you’re standing on tiptoes in a weak attempt to get any closer to that kiss you’ve yearned for so long now. Why won’t he move? Damnit, was this still about his hai–

“Something the matter?” 

Roger grins at you from above, his face way out of reach for your lips. He seems amused by the way you’re slowly losing your temper, jumping up and down slightly to get that kiss you are longing for. So close and yet so far away… 

Only when irritated tears start pricking in the corner of your eyes again, Roger laughs and sweeps you off your feet – literally. Within a heartbeat the captain pushes you with your back against the wall, big hands digging into your thighs as you wrap them around Roger’s waist, a hungry mouth seeking yours as you bury your fingers in his dark hair. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and makes your toes curl, and it only gets better once his cheeky tongue slips between your lips and charms out faint moans from deep within. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck and smile into the kiss, every fiber of your body tingling. 

When Roger pulls back slowly, your eyes meet and there it is again; the mischievous twinkle that started a fire back then and continues to do so. This man will one day be the death of you… 

“You still owe me a few hundred more kisses for those terribly long hours you were gone…”, you coo and slightly pull his hair, making him grin. Roger leans in for another kiss, his lips hovering dangerously close over yours, making time seem to stand still. You have a feeling you won’t leave this cabin without every inch of your skin being covered in kisses… but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 5

"You really drew all these yourself, kupo?"

Beef nodded. The top of his head barely peeked above the sketchbook he held up for Kupopo's perusal.

"Well, your landscapes are pretty good, and the flowers are even better - they should make for some powerful pictomancy!" the moogle exclaimed, wings fluttering and pom bouncing. "We could go over elemental pigments... but the basics are boring, kupo. Why don't we see how you fare with some other subjects, instead?"

The two relocated to their local striking dummy in order to practice a few tricks of the pictomancer's trade.

"You know kupo, I only had the one job crystal to give away anyway, so if you think about it, it's actually a bit of a blessing that you were the only adventurer interested in being my student."

Beef's only response was to stare at the moogle in silence.

"I can see you're eager to learn, so let's get started, kupo. How about we try weapons?"

After a few minutes of watching Beef stare at his beginner's palette, Kupopo thought it best to offer some more guidance. "It doesn't have to be perfect, kupo, just come up with something you can pound a few poms with."

The suggestion seemed to help somehow, as Beef snapped his fingers and began to paint, stroke by stroke. Once it had taken shape, he raised the finished piece aloft - a feat that would never have been possible were it truly a weapon forged in iron.

"A hammer, kupo? Kind of silly at that size, don't you think?"

"Dwarven decking."

"I have no idea what that means, kupo." Kupopo shrugged. "But I guess it's true what they say: when you have a kupo nut, all of your tools start to look like hammers, kupo!"

Beef didn't think he had heard that one before.

"How about we switch tactics, kupo? You could really fill any role on the battlefield, if you think about it. A pictomancer is only limited by their imagination, after all! You could draft up a shield, or even cure pain with... paint, kupo!"

Beef's face scrunched up in response. "Messy."

"Look, that's up to you and how you imagine it, kupo."

For a while Beef tried to conceptualize a depiction of healing, but the line that distinguished between these two uses of magic lay somewhere outside of his grasp. To his untrained eye, it was all just magic.

"Well, you passed the job interview, so I'm sure you've got imagination to spare, kupo." said the moogle. "If you can't visualize how casting a healing spell would look, why don't you try sketching a healer that will do it for you?"

Beef looked to Kupopo, then his brush, and then back again. After another dose of erratic encouragement from his moogle mentor, he gave his best attempt at painting L'kozu.

The resulting evocation defied all description.

"THE HAMMER, KUPO! GET THE HAMMER!"

In a panic, Beef hurriedly sketched up another hammer and scrambled to grip its handle.

"STAMP IT OUT QUICK, KUPO!!"

In a whirlwind of color and magic, he rapidly and repeatedly pounded the dissatisfactory piece until it was rendered across the V&C garden as little more than a painterly pulp.

After a few moments for the two to catch their breath, Kupopo fluttered past Gale to speak a little too close into Beef's face. "I changed my mind, kupo. Maybe we should work through the basics after all... then we'll consider building toward a living muse."