#and then it started making me spiral about everything even unrelated to it

[within-your-eyes-if]

Personal Update #2

Hey again!

So, I'm still doing okay, but I found out stuff that makes a lot of sense for what I've been experiencing over the last year. I wanted to talk about it a little, because... damn. This update will be a bit personal, and for that I apologize. I try to keep these matters out, but since it directly affects my writing and some choices I made, I thought it would be important to talk about.

My official diagnosis won't come until later this month, but it's heavily pointing toward neurological (the neurologists in my area are all booked out, so this is how my doctor explained it in the meantime). I had something diagnosed a couple years ago by former doctors, but it was never explained what it meant nor looked into further. Apparently, it only appears in neurological disorders like Multiple Sclerosis or similar.

Some time last year, I started struggling with comprehending what I was writing. I could not make sense of it. I started spiraling because suddenly, "Oh no, it sounds awful. It doesn't make sense!" And ugh, the anxiety. I had such overwhelming anxiety all the time even for no reason, and I would spiral into things, my writing most suspect. Eventually, it spread to physical stuff, like these migraine like headaches on one side of my head where half of my face would go partially numb, and a whole slew of other things — a few that hit hard in February and on. I blamed it on stress and a different medical condition I have, but those are unrelated or just another piece in the puzzle.

I'm doing a little better now that I've been given tools to handle stress, and I'm trying to write because I genuinely want to. I never disclosed these struggles because it felt silly, "how can I not understand what I'm writing?" And honestly, now that I'm more calm, I'm a bit embarrassed when I look back at some of my older posts. I jumped the gun on changes more than once, mostly because my thoughts were all over the place, and anxiety made everything feel worse than it probably was. T.T

I'm okay with whatever diagnosis I get, I just want solid answers. I know I'm sharing this a bit early, and I'm sorry if it's premature, I just needed to say something because I'm very relieved there's a potential name for what's happening. That I'm not actually broken, regressing, or even failing.

Anyways, thank you so much for sticking with me, and I apologize for the long post and if it's a bit scattered. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

[yua0ra]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨

WARNINGS: mattheo x ravenclaw!fem!reader, breaking the rules, reader is brutally hit by an angry bludger (lol), established relationship. SFW. not proofread.

fluff ☏

SUMMARY: After a brutal bludger hit leaves you unconscious and in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey bans all visitors to ensure your recovery. However, just as you’re grappling with the “no more flying for a while” rule, Mattheo sneaks in, grinning like he owns the place. He’s armed with stolen sweets and endless teasing, and espite your protests, his playful banter, plotting and expected charm, makes recovery far less boring.

WC: +1.2K AN: ENJOY! <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The damage was done. The bludger collided with your head, its impact sharp and unrelenting. You hadn’t even seen it coming, and before you had time to brace yourself, your body was thrown off your broom, spiraling uncontrollably through the air. The ground rushed up to meet you far too quickly, and everything went black as you hit the dirt.

When you awoke, you found yourself lying in the cool, sterile bed of the hospital wing. The soft rustling of Madam Pomfrey’s robes filled the air as she hovered over you, fussing with her potions and muttering to herself in a language you couldn’t quite follow. Pain pulsed in your head, making it hard to concentrate, but you could still feel the weight of her magic working to heal you.

“You’re lucky,” Madam Pomfrey said with a tone that was a mix of relief and reprimand. “That was a nasty knock to the head, but you’ll be fine. No flying for a while, though.”

You barely heard her, your mind too foggy from the injury. Still, as the haze began to clear, one thought nagged at you: Mattheo. You hadn’t seen him since the incident, and despite the fact that he was on the opposing Slytherin team, you couldn’t shake the worry that he might be concerned. After all, Mattheo, sometimes was far from the usual Slytherin arrogance believe it or not. He had a unique, unpredictable way of showing he cared, a way that more often than not, got him in trouble.

But it wasn’t just him you had to worry about; it was Madam Pomfrey’s strict rules. She had already made it clear that no one was allowed to visit you while you recovered. And most importantly, what did she mean by “no flying”? The season was just starting and you couldn’t afford losing too much practice.

As time passed, you began to drift in and out of consciousness, the pain in your head still throbbing, though less intense. That was until you heard a soft, familiar voice break through the silence.

“You look terrible.”

Mattheo’s voice was low, full of that signature smirk of his, even though you could tell he was trying to suppress it. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know who it was. You could hear the unmistakable sound of his footsteps, deliberate and quiet, obviously trying not to alert Madam Pomfrey. Your eyes flickered open slowly, surprised but somehow not surprised at all. There, leaning casually against the curtain that separated your bed from the rest of the wing, was Mattheo, his mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“I feel terrible, and you’re not supposed to be here,” you muttered, the words thick and sluggish as you tried to sit up. “Never stopped me before,” he said with a wink.

“Besides, I’m just checking on my favorite girl.” He looked down at you with concern, his gaze softening as he caught sight of the bandages wrapped around your head.

You tried to shoot him a glare, but the effort only made your head pound more. “Madam Pomfrey will catch you.”

“She can’t catch me if she doesn’t know I’m here,” Mattheo said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “And I’ve got my ways. Don’t worry.” His eyes twinkled with that spark of mischief that always seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Despite yourself, you smiled faintly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, you mean,” he quipped, his grin widening.

“Merlin’s tits Matty”

“I couldn’t leave you alone in here,” Mattheo ignored your comment, his voice quieter now. “Besides, I think I might have a little surprise for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “A surprise?”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small package of Fizzing Whizzbees “don’t worry, it’s not illegal… well, mostly not illegal, I stole them from Honeydukes,” he laughed. “Just a little something to make you feel better.”

“Aw… thank you baby!” You could have sworn you saw a pretty red hue decorating his cheeks but before you could comment on it, he cleared his throat “don’t get too comfortable, though. You’ll be back on that broom before you know it.”

“Madam Pomfrey said “no flying”, so… how am I supposed to do that?” you asked, the sarcasm in your voice evident as you glanced at the bandages still wrapped tightly around your head.

Mattheo’s grin grew wider. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re a Ravenclaw, after all. You’ve got that whole ‘brains over brawn’ thing going for you, right?”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, brains don’t exactly help when your head feels like it’s about to explode. But thanks for the encouragement, I guess.”

“Ah, well, if anyone can figure out how to get back on a broom while half-dead, it’s you.” He leaned against the bedframe, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe you could borrow my broom. I’ll give you a head start and all.” You chuckled despite yourself. “I’m pretty sure the last time you let me ride your broom with you, we ended up in a tree.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “It was the wind, or maybe some stray magic. Who can say? Anyway, I’m positive that wasn’t my broom’s fault. Just a… little accident.”

“A little accident?” you laughed. “Mattheo, you flew me straight into a tree while trying to ‘show off’ your skills.”

“Well, you can’t deny that my skills are impressive.” He shot you a cocky grin before straightening up. “Besides, I was just trying to make it exciting. Who wants a boring, uneventful flight, anyway?”

“You’re lucky I’m even talking to you after that stunt,” you said, shaking your head with a smirk. “I should’ve gotten you expelled for that, you know.”

“Oh, come on, love, you know I’ve got a face that gets me out of trouble.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, clearly proud of himself. “It’s my best weapon. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.” You rolled your eyes, but despite the teasing, a laugh bubbled up. “Well, you certainly make trouble look entertaining.”

“That’s the goal, obviously,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, once you’re back in shape, I’ll be there to make sure you don’t take any more unplanned naps on the ground. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine,” you said, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “But I can’t promise I won’t need a little bit of help staying out of trees next time.” Mattheo grinned, his tone turning playful again. “I’ll keep that in mind. You never know when a tree might decide to attack you.” He gave you a dramatic look of concern. “You might need a bodyguard for that. I volunteer as tribute.”

“Oh, please. You’d probably end up trying to fly into the tree again to impress me,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? It’s a gift. But don’t worry, I’ve got a much more foolproof plan for next time.”

“And what would that be?” you asked, intrigued despite yourself.

“Easy,” he said, putting his hands behind his back like a magician preparing for a big reveal. “I’ll just get you a helmet. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself on those crazy tree branches, would we?”

“Not sure if you’re insulting me or trying to protect my dignity, but thanks,” you replied dryly, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, I’m just saying, we can’t have you falling off the broom again,” he said, his grin widening at the sight of you trying not to laugh. “You never know what could happen on your next ‘adventure.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, finally letting out a small chuckle. “Just make sure to stay out of my way when I get back on that broom. I’m aiming for no more tree incidents, thanks to your ‘help.’”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to catch you—whether you like it or not,” Mattheo said, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he headed for the door.

You shook your head as he disappeared down the hallway, already planning his next ridiculous idea to “help” you back on your broom. For all his teasing and mischievous ways, you had to admit, it was nice to know you wouldn’t be alone in recovering from this latest incident.

Maybe mischievous Mattheo wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. Even if he still had a penchant for getting into trouble, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you secretly enjoyed every second of it.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 29: Ghosts of the Past

Rating: Teen Audiences

Warnings: Protective!Paige, Azzi, Ice, Mentions of Y/N’s Ex, Panic Attacks

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x !Photographer Fem Reader

Fandom: Women’s Basketball

Summary: Why now...

Welcome to the chapter 29 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Shopping trips with the team were always filled with laughter, banter, and an unrelenting amount of teasing. It was one of those things that felt like a welcome distraction from everything else. Today was no different. Paige, Azzi, Ice, and I were in our usual group, having fun as we made our way through the aisles. The others had split off to check out a sneaker store just a few blocks down, leaving the four of us to do a little damage in a nearby boutique.

"Are you seriously trying to convince me that green looks good on everyone?" Azzi asked, holding up a neon green hoodie, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

I snorted, glancing over at Paige, who was smirking at me. "I’m just saying," Paige teased. "Some of us can pull it off better than others."

"You mean like you?" Ice chimed in, causing Paige to give a dramatic shrug.

"Obviously," Paige responded, looking pleased with herself.

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Let’s get this over with before Paige starts modeling for us."

The lighthearted atmosphere filled the space, and for a moment, I felt the weight of the past few weeks lift. Between school, practice, and my constant juggling act, I hadn’t realized how much I needed this—just the simple joy of being with people I cared about.

But then, as I turned a corner of the store, the world seemed to freeze. My heart stuttered in my chest.

Standing just a few feet away, browsing through a rack of jackets, was someone I thought I’d never have to see again. My ex.

I froze, the blood draining from my face. The warmth that had settled in me moments ago disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in my bones.

Paige’s voice broke through my panic. "Y/N?" she asked softly, stepping closer. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, my eyes locked on the figure in front of me. I could feel my hands begin to shake as memories from that toxic relationship flooded my mind. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the verbal jabs—everything that once felt suffocating was suddenly there, fresh and painful.

"Why are you back here?" I muttered under my breath, my voice unsteady. I could barely even hear it over the roar of my heartbeat.

Azzi, noticing my sudden shift in energy, stepped up to my other side. "Who’s this?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Before I could answer, the guy turned, his eyes locking with mine. "Y/N? Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here!" He said, his tone too casual, too comfortable for someone who had hurt me so badly.

Azzi's arms crossed as she shot a glare at him. "Who’s this?" she repeated, her voice laced with protectiveness.

"I’m her ex," the guy replied, his eyes flicking between Azzi and Paige. He was trying to figure out the situation. "We dated her freshman year."

I felt my knees go weak as the walls I had built so carefully around my past began to crumble. Paige immediately noticed the change in me, her hand instinctively finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" she whispered, her voice quiet but firm.

I couldn’t answer. My breath was coming in short bursts, my chest tight with anxiety. My ex’s presence alone was enough to send me spiraling.

Azzi’s voice was sharp and commanding as she addressed him. "Maybe you should leave."

"What? I’m not doing anything wrong," he protested, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"You’re making her uncomfortable," Paige said, her voice steely and authoritative.

His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the confusion on his face. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi, and now bye," Ice’s voice rang out from behind us, her words leaving no room for argument.

Azzi and Ice stood like a wall between me and my ex, their eyes fixed on him with a glare that would make anyone back off. In a matter of seconds, they had him out of the store, leaving me surrounded by the people who would always have my back.

I was still trembling, my breath uneven as I tried to regain control of my racing heart. Paige stepped closer, her hands cupping my face, her touch gentle yet firm. "Hey, hey," she whispered softly. "Look at me."

I couldn’t help it—tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now, but everything came flooding back. "I... I didn’t want to see him again, Paige," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Why now? Why here?"

Paige’s hands rubbed comforting circles on my arms as she leaned her forehead against mine. "You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore." Her words were calm, soothing, like a balm on the wounds I didn’t even realize were still raw.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, the tears breaking free.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Paige said gently, brushing away the tear that had slipped down my cheek. "You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t owe him or anyone anything."

The rest of the team returned, the air filled with quiet tension. Ice, Azzi, and KK had made sure my ex was gone, but the damage lingered in the pit of my stomach. KK was the first to speak up. "What happened?" Her voice was laced with concern.

"Her ex showed up," Ice muttered, her tone sharp. "Total creep."

Paige wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close. "We’re going back to my dorm," she said firmly, her protective instincts flaring. "We’ll figure this out there."

At the dorm, things felt a little calmer, though my nerves were still shot. I sat curled up on Paige’s bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders, sipping on a cup of tea she had made for me. I didn’t want to talk about it—not yet. The memories were still too fresh, too painful.

Paige sat beside me, her presence calming, her fingers gently lacing through mine. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, her voice quiet, giving me the space I needed.

I shook my head. "Not right now. But…thank you. For everything."

"You don’t have to thank me," Paige murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I’ll always protect you."

I leaned into her, letting her warmth and comfort settle me. "I know," I whispered. "I know."

Later that night, after I had finally managed to sleep, the nightmares came.

I woke up, my body drenched in sweat, my heart pounding as though I was back in that dark, toxic relationship. I gasped for air, feeling trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. The panic rose in my chest, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

I tried to calm myself down, but the images were still there, haunting me—his face, the way he used to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough, that I was nothing.

But then, suddenly, a pair of warm hands cupped my face. Paige was there, her voice soft and steady as she whispered, "Hey, look at me. You’re safe."

I turned into her, the tears falling freely now. "I can’t breathe, Paige. I can’t—"

"Shh," Paige soothed, her hands running down my back as she gently rocked me. "Just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth."

I followed her lead, focusing on her voice, her presence, the way she always seemed to ground me when everything else fell apart.

"I’ve got you," she whispered. "You’re safe. You’re here with me, and no one can hurt you. Not anymore."

Slowly, I felt my breathing steady, the panic that had gripped me loosening its hold.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice still shaky. "I’m sorry for waking you."

Paige smiled softly, her thumb brushing across my cheek. "Don’t apologize, baby. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always."

I snuggled closer to her, my heart finally beginning to settle. "I’m lucky to have you," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips as I drifted back into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the warmth of the girl who would always protect me.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @elalfywhore , @elalfywhore .... (more to be added)

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🕯️ i write best at 2am, in silence, with a candle burning and the ghost of my plot breathing down my neck 🕯️

not to be dramatic but… if the vibes aren’t unhinged and slightly haunted, i literally cannot write.

give me total darkness. the kind that makes your laptop glow like an ancient relic. give me a half-melted candle and a beverage i’ve already forgotten to drink. give me dead silence except for one creaky pipe somewhere deep in the walls. is the house alive? maybe. am i alive? unclear.

at 2am, everything hits different. suddenly the dialogue sounds profound. suddenly i care about the shape of every sentence. suddenly the side character with one line is spiraling about the moral consequences of violence and i’m like. yeah okay go off.

this is when the plot shows up like a sleep paralysis demon. not helpful. just looming. like “are you actually going to resolve that foreshadowing you dropped 40k words ago or should i start whispering again.”

normal brain hours? useless. my daytime brain wants snacks and pinterest and unrelated side quests. my 2am brain? feral. focused. haunted. she’s got blood under her fingernails and thirty tabs open about victorian funeral rites.

writing is a ritual. i’m not even kidding. if you’ve never lit a candle and whispered “please just let me get through this scene” like you’re bargaining with something ancient and unknowable, are you even a writer.

anyway. if you see me online at 2:17am, no you didn’t. i’m communing with my blorbos. i’m making plot decisions i won’t remember in the morning. i’m typing like a woman possessed. and i’m vibing.

here's a little excerpt from my WIP i'm working on. yes it's a romantasy, no it's not cheesy like fourth wing.

🕯️

[lightlycareless]

um so I swear this was an ask but i don't find it anymore i really do hope tumblr isn't deleting them now jfc.

anyways, here it goes!! another piece of the naoya y/n marriage that isn't as perfect as i would like it to be 😈🥹😭

warnings: you and naoya have a disagreement and he's... cruel about it, ngl. you too so... oof. you're married and have kids but they do not make an appearance here. extra notes at the end.

What would Naoya think of the day you suddenly approaching saying that, after long consideration and years of retirement, you want to go back to being a sorcerer?

He wouldn’t take it well.

I know he said he’d always support you, be on your side and whatnot…

But when you bring this up to him… he just becomes defensive, unable to feel anything else but rejection at your words and quickly shooting down your desire.

“No, you will not.”

And of course, you don’t take it well either. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself before he made the decision!

“Naoya? That’s not—I don’t think that’s for you to decide!” you gasp, but he’s unrelenting.

“It is, as your husband, I have to look after what’s best for you—and that, is not.”

“And I appreciate when you do, but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate all of my life!” You respond. “This is something that I want to do, that I know I can do! You do it all the time, so why should it different with me?”

“It’s not the same, Y/N. And you’ve said so yourself—you’ve been out of the game for too long, it’s a completely new world out there. Besides, someone needs to be here while I’m gone. What about the children? Who’s going to look after them? Or are you simply planning on abandoning them to their luck?”

Ouch.

“Excuse me? No one said anything about be abandoning them! There’s more than adequate options to choose from if necessary… besides, I only want to take a few missions here and there, not make this full time!” You gasp, offended by his implication. After all you’ve done for them, how dare he?! “What about you, then? I’ve never considered you to be abandoning them when you go out for work, but if that’s how it’s going to be, you haven’t been the best father either!”

You two say a lot of things you don’t mean. A lot of hurtful, senseless words that are not a reflection of what either you or Naoya truly feel. Not by far.

But in the heat of the moment, they simply slip through your tongue, and once past the point of no return, the two continue to spiral.

“Y/N, be honest with me. When was the last time you even worked out?”

“Well, I—I’ve been busy tending to the house! I haven’t gotten much time for it… but that doesn’t mean I can’t go back to my career!” you fret, embarrassed by his words. “It’s just a matter of catching up… which I can do if given the opportunity!“

“Do you know how much you need to catch up? How much has everything changed since you last went on a mission? Curses aren’t the same as you remembered them, time is a luxury we can’t afford!”

“That’s—I just—I can figure that out once I start!”

“No, you can’t. That’s the truth.” Naoya frowns. “And you know that! You weren’t even good back at school!”

And in the moment his words pierced right through your heart, swiftly, directly into your insecurities, the world comes to a complete stop.

“…is that what you think of me?”

“I’m not saying anything we didn’t know already.”

Yes, it was no secret that you weren’t particularly outstanding when compared to him or other sorcerers. That you’d never be able to compete with powerhouses like Satoru, Suguru, or your siblings.

But you still considered yourself adequate enough, at least with your technique. While they relied on strength, you were proficient on stealth. You had a purpose inside the community, you were accepted into school and graduated as one of the most dedicated students of you generation…

What you never expected, however, is for the same diminishing words you’ve heard all your life from the mouths of your clan’s elders, or even HQ…. would eventually come out from your husband’s. The man that swore before the gods to always stand on your corner.

The same person you’ve personally disclosed these horrors, the constant fear of failure, that you wouldn’t amount to anything ever—but not to him, whom you could only be perfect to in his eyes.

To be the light of your darkness, calm to your storm…

And yet, here you were, listening how he easily disregarded your small achievements for apparent no reason.

Perhaps because he wanted to.

…

Perhaps… because this is what he always thought of you, it’s just that there was never a moment to say so. Expecting you to always be in line, why would you?

And it hurt you, greatly so, that it completely shattered any hopes you had for pursuing something for yourself ever again. Such a sorrowful, empty feeling that it forced you to do nothing else but retreat, scurry whatever was left of your heart, and begin to reconsider your reality.

His betrayal.

Wonder if this was even the happy marriage you proudly proclaimed to others—

If you had done right in marrying him.

“D—dad…I don’t know what to do.” You breathe, having called your father in the middle of the night once your burdened heart became too much to ignore. You couldn’t take it, as much as you wished to move past this moment, your mind simply kept pulling you back again and again to the dreadful possibility of going down a road you did not want to. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to leave him, but he also—Naoya also said terrible things that hurt me!”

“Y/N… How long has this gone on?”

“…For a few weeks.”

“Oh, pumpkin… and you haven’t spoken to Naoya since then?”

“No. I don’t want to.” You sob; you tried your hardest to hold back your tears, but at the nostalgic voice of your father, you simply become more vulnerable—taken back to when you were nothing but a child seeking his comfort. “I don’t… I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“It’s not right to go on days without speaking to him. I know it’s not easy, I’ve been in your same position with your mother once, and that’s why I can tell you it isn’t right. But you’re meant to face problems together, not apart. Communication is important in marriages”

“But he said some hurtful things, dad! What did you expect me to do?! He called me a failure and all because I told him I wanted to be a sorcerer again…” you cry. “I can’t just ignore it and act like nothing happened!”

“Maybe he was just… worried, but didn’t know how to convey that properly.” Eiichi isn’t surprised, Naoya wasn’t known for his greatly assertive communication.

But he’s also known for having changed for you. For his children. So, for you to proclaim crudeness… something else must be going on.

“It’s a dangerous career, pumpkin. I was never happy that you and your siblings were forced into this world…”

“But he didn’t have to say it that way! He told me I wasn’t even good back at school!” You then pause for a moment. “…Do you believe that too?”

“No, never Y/N. You and I know best how silly they can be when it comes to grading sorcerers. You’re good through your own merits, that is undisputable. But…”

“But what?”

“Y/N, I want you to know I will always support you, no matter what. And though you are angry at this moment, and this might make you feel like I’m not… I really do want to help you and your marriage. I know how much Naoya means to you, and how much it would hurt you to toss away all that you’ve built with him.”

You press your lips together, his words stating nothing but the truth, as much as a part of you wished to be blinded of it.

“But before you make a final decision, talk to him.” Your dad pleads. “I do not believe this is enough to call it quits; marriages tend to have arguments here and there. Some bigger than others, and … well, I never thought I’d come to say this about Naoya, but… I understand why he’d say what he did. Your mother once came to me with the same words and I shut her down, in the most stupid way I could’ve—but I didn’t mean any of those words. I simply didn’t want to put her in danger.”

“But he’s not you, dad. What if he truly believes I’m good for nothing?!”

“He didn’t say that, Y/N. Besides, have you forgotten all that he did to convince me into letting you marry him? For his family to allow him to marry you?” Eiichi says. “And I thought I was stubborn! If he felt that way about you, this story would’ve been vastly different.”

…

…

…

“Please, just talk to him. And if you still feel the same way, I’ll go pick you, ok? And help you with everything else.”

“…OK.”

And so, after days of not looking each other in the eye (to the point of sleeping in different rooms) … the moment comes for you to approach your estranged husband, who’s gaze seems to falter from yours for a quick second, as if hesitant, ashamed, worried, perhaps even a bit scared.

Yet unable to keep away for much, for deep within, he desperately longed to see you. As it has always been.

“Naoya, are you… busy?” you ask gently, silently approaching him until you were just a few feet away from where he hunched over his desk; presumably busy with that same damned paperwork that seems to hoard all of his free time.

“Not quite. I was just finishing and thinking what I wanted to eat for lunch.” He responds, pressing his lips together before looking away. “What about you? Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Can we talk, please?”

He swallows.

“…Are you here to tell me you’re leaving me?”

“Where… where did you get that idea from?”

“…I heard you talking to your father the other night.” He confesses, coincidentally, the night he was planning to reach out to you. It’s safe to say that after that he ceased insisting. “If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. I won’t stop you if no longer want to be with me, but I will not allow you to take the children—”

“I—I won’t deny I didn’t consider it at the heat of the moment, but I don’t want to leave you, Naoya! I… I love you too much to even think that, or hurt our babies like that, but…” unable to contain your emotions, tears begin to pour out of your eyes. Your husband instinctively desires to embrace you, use everything in his disposition to make the pain go away.

But he fears that by doing so might only be to your detriment, so, once again, he desists.

“You said some awful things that made me question if you… if you loved me the same as I did you.”

“Since when did worrying about my wife mean that I didn’t love you?” Naoya murmurs; a sharp pang engulfs his heart. He’s capable of many things, but failing you… he dreads the mere thought of it. “All I ever wanted for you and our family is happiness, but most importantly, safety. I can’t ensure that if you’re out there.”

“…Do you not believe I can keep myself safe? When you said I wasn’t capable… did you mean it genuinely?”

“No, of course not. It’s not that.”

“You thought I wasn’t good back when I was a student, why would today be any different?”

“Y/N—I… I messed up. I didn’t mean that.”

“What did you mean, then? Why would you say that if you didn’t mean it?!”

“Goddamn it—Why is it so hard for you to understand that I don’t want to lose you?! That the mere thought of you getting hurt or even—dying, is too agonizing for me to consider?!” Naoya finally explodes, making you flinch and subsequently quiet.

Your terrified face overwhelms him with another wave of sorrow, that he might as well be the one to leave. Set you free from the pain he only seems to be capable of providing you.

Mistake after mistake, Naoya will never be freed from the shadows of his past. No matter how much he tries.

No matter how much he wishes to be the one you deserve.

Which unbeknownst to him, he already was?

“I can keep myself safe.” You carefully thread upon seeing his softening, regretful gaze. The two are far from over with this topic, but even then, you cannot bring yourself to ail him when he’s showing you a part he rarely allows himself to be in touch with.

His vulnerability, the human side of him.

What made you fall in love with him.

“I know, but…”

“…what is it?”

“That mission. Since that damned mission, when I saw your frightened face—” at the prospect of facing your demise… Naoya hasn’t been the same.

Your fear imprinted in the back of his mind; when he sleeps, when he closes his eyes, when he hears something that might remotely imply your pain…

Naoya swore to do all in his power to never let that happen again.

Even if it takes his very existence.

Because if something happened to you—if you died—

Life would cease all meaning, and would rush to join your side too.

“Please, don’t—don’t go. If something were to happen to you, I—I can’t… I don’t think I could live without you.” He quietly begs, further opening his heart, and for the first time in so long… you see him cry.

Weep, tired of acting brave, as if he were above everything—

When in reality, there was so much going in his mind all the time.

What if he isn’t good for the clan? What if his father decides for someone else to take his so-called rightful title?

What if he meets a curse that’s much greater than his capabilities? What if someone worse than Suguru comes along?

What if someone from his family betrays him? Attempts to enact his downfall?

…

What if his enemies finally get to you? To his children? And he’s nowhere to protect you?

What then?

Money can only do so much when passion is involved.

And with someone of his title, he’s not ignorant to how many people his family has wronged.

Seems that even after years of marriage, the two still have many secrets to disclose.

“Naoya…”

“Curses are getting strong each year, Y/N. And there’s not enough sorcerers to deal with them… HQ is growing irrational with their assignments, sometimes the missions are far beyond the sorcerer’s level.”

“I can be one, with enough training, I can get back on shape.”

“I don’t doubt it, I never did.”

“…Then why did you say that?”

“I thought that if I… forced you back by hurting you, you’d leave this matter to die. But clearly, I forgot how stubborn my wife could be.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, followed by a sniffle. You respond with a tight smile. “Our children are already on their way to become sorcerers; it was decided so since the moment they were born with cursed energy. And since then, I’ve been agonizing about the moment they’ll have to leave home to fight these things… but the thought of you being home, away from all of this… kept me hopeful. Reminded me that no matter what, you’ll always be there for them.”

For me.

When things become too difficult, too painful to deal with, … Naoya needs the reassurance of you being the one place he can always go to. A shoulder to cry on, someone to vent to. Someone to be loved from.

He never knew how lonely he was, until the day he met you.

But as much as he wished otherwise… he loved you too much to go against your desires. He’d hate to be the cause of your misery, and such…

“…But if you want to do this, I won’t stop you.” He murmurs. “I can help smooth out your return, even get in a word for your promotion—”

“Naoya...”

“I don’t think you’re a bad mother.” He quietly adds. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“…I don’t think you’re a bad father either. I know how difficult it is for you to leave and do your job, how you sometimes have to go undercover, without any possibility of contact…” those missions are the most dreadful, and often pushed your mind to conjure all kinds of horrible scenarios.

You try to ease yourself by remembering that if something bad happened, there’s no doubt in your mind you would’ve known by then. However, a part of you still worries. Hates to think that Naoya could just… not come back. Whether because no one was able to keep up with him, or because something so horrible occurred, that it left his body unrecognizable for—

You loathed to think of the possibilities.

But what you loathed most, was your last interaction with him being an unpleasant one.

If this was to be the last time you saw him, you’d want to remember him happily.

“…I guess I didn’t realize it wasn’t that easy for me to just come by and demand a change when there’s so much more to consider—”

Naoya presses his lips together, feeling regretful for your reaction. He wanted you to reconsider, but not this way. Not anymore.

He doesn’t want you to feel like you can’t trust him.

“We can start slow, get you reacquainted with the basics, and once you’re ready I… I guess you can request missions.” He concedes. “But I would still feel uncomfortable if you take high grade missions; and if you do get some, I’ll take them immediately. That I will not allow.”

“I don’t intend to go that far, my technique isn’t really suitable for that type of work either way.” You respond. “Besides, I’ll miss my babies too much.”

He remains silent, but his thoughts are nothing but clear.

“I’ll miss you a lot too.” You say, walking closer to him and gently wrapping your arms around his chest. The way he leans into you, resting his head over yours almost instinctively, just make you feel worse and longing of all the time you’ve missed by this rift. “And I would like to be there when you eventually come back home, instead of being god knows where with god knows who…”

“Preferably, not with another man…”

“Or what, you’ll scare them off like you did back in Jujutsu High?” you tease, he frowns, hugging you back.

“Yes, if that’s what it takes.”

“I’ll scare them off myself, no one compares to my strong and handsome husband either way.”

“Not even Satoru?”

“Now, don’t get too crazy.” You giggle, Naoya smirks. “…Yeah, even him.”

“There’s much for us to talk about.” You add.

“I know.”

“I never meant to take the children from you, either. I couldn’t do that to them.” You snuggle against him, taking in his cologne, that familiar yet cozy, warm smell of cedar you missed to wake up to—a scent that reminded you of home. All of Naoya. “My dad actually pushed me to talk to you, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yeah; and I’m glad he’s right.” You sigh. “I guess he’s grown to be quite fond of you… hopefully my sister isn’t too jealous.”

“What can I say? My charm is simply… undeniable.” He teases back, you chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” You say, looking up to him, and Naoya looked down to you.

The two stare at each other’s eyes for a moment, enjoying the sight their misunderstanding cruelly stripped them away from, relishing it’s return and the fact that it won’t go away anymore.

His sharp, calculating yet soft eyes that always make you forget how to breath whenever they land on you… it’s a blessing to know you’re the only one who can see him like this. To know that you’re the only one they seek, the only one they admire…

While your big, round eyes that Naoya doesn’t know why he’s so enthralled by them. Is it because they’re beautiful, or because their yours? Or because they see him like his worth looking at?

Either way… they’re his.

They’re yours.

For all eternity, you belong to one another. For worse, or for better.

Sorcerer or not.

In this universe, or the other.

He’ll support you every step of the way.

Imma lean further into y/n's insecurities and admit that she was quite happy of leaving the whole jujutsu world behind. being constantly compared to her oh so incredible siblings and the rest of the people she seemingly had the misfortune of studying with must've been quite exhausting.

besides, she's the #1 to her babies and that outranks anything else in the whole wide world.

however, if she does get the itch to use her jujutsu knowledge, i'd like to think she'd actually become her kid's teacher if they desire to be homeschooled; she's quite good when it comes to the theory part of it. :)

in other words, i doubt this argument would even happen but it's nice to see them act like human for once, and remember how nasty naoya can be sometimes :s (and he was being quite demure here ngl)

[onlyyoucanhurtlikethis]

I Knew Before I Met You - one shot, kylian mbappe

It starts as nothing. Just one of those quiet moments where time stretches in the warm, honeyed light of evening. The kind that makes everything feel softer, slower—like there’s nowhere else in the world they should be.

Kylian is lounging on the couch, one arm draped along the back, while she is curled up in the corner. There’s a book in her hands—something she meant to focus on but forgot the second her thoughts started spiraling elsewhere.

Kylian has been watching her for the last few minutes, an amused smirk playing at his lips.

“What?” she asks without looking up.

“You’re cute when you concentrate.”

She scoffs. “I’m reading.”

“No, you’re pretending to read while overthinking something completely unrelated.”

She lifts a brow at him, finally meeting his gaze. “You always think you know what’s going on in my head.”

“I do,” he says, unbothered.

The worst part is, he’s not wrong.

She closes the book and puts it down, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, genius. What was I thinking about?”

Kylian tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know the exact details—yet—but I know you’re overanalyzing something that shouldn’t even be a debate.”

She lets out a slow exhale. “That’s not fair. You just described my entire personality.”

He grins. “Then I know you pretty well.”

There’s something about the way he says it—too casual, but not careless. Like he means more than he’s letting on.

She watches him for a beat, studying the relaxed way he’s leaning into the cushions, the ease of his smirk, the warmth in his eyes that lingers even when he’s not teasing.

She nudges his leg lightly with her foot. “Spit it out.”

Kylian exhales, tipping his head back against the couch for a moment before turning to her. “You know,” he says, his voice quieter now, “before I met you, I already knew the kind of person I was waiting for.”

She stills.

She wasn’t expecting that.

She blinks, processing. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates for a second—not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he wants to say it right.

“I mean,” he starts, shifting slightly, “I didn’t know your name, or what you looked like, or how you’d laugh at me when I get too serious, but I knew the way I’d feel when I met you.”

She doesn’t look away, and neither does he.

“I knew it wouldn’t be about impressing you,” he continues. “I knew it would be someone who didn’t care about any of the bullshit. Someone who could see through everything. Someone who was brilliant enough to make me think, but strong enough to make me pause. Who wouldn’t be impressed by what I have, but by who I am.”

Her stomach tightens at the certainty in his tone.

She swallows. “That’s a very specific type.”

He shrugs, smirking. “I always knew what I wanted.”

She presses her lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest. “You make it sound inevitable.”

Kylian leans in slightly, his voice lower now. “It was.”

The air shifts between them.

Not in a dramatic way—not in the way it does in the movies, with swelling music or sudden revelations—but in something quieter. Something deeper.

She watches him, watches the way he says it like it’s just a fact. Not a line, not an attempt to charm her, just something he knows in his bones.

And she realizes—this is how he sees her.

Not as a phase, not as something temporary, but as something inevitable.

She exhales, trying to steady herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

Kylian tilts his head, smirking. “I’m right.”

She glares, but it’s weak. “I hate when you say that.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer.

And maybe—just maybe—he was right about the overthinking, too.

Because when he kisses her, she doesn’t think about anything at all.

[xuchiya]

Idk if you're receiving requests, but I wanted to ask a hurt/comfort/fluff where reader is receiving so much hate on the internet and Wooyoung comfort her being the best person as he always been. I'm passing through a hard moment, and need this to feel a little better.

hi my loves, yes I'm always open for request! And I hope things will turn out better for you at the end of the day, don't lose hope okay? I hope this satisfy you, my loves.

"In Wooyoungie's arms" || jung wooyoung || one-shot

|genre: fluff. comfort. angst. idol! wooyoung. girlfriend! reader. |mentions: hate comments. insecurities.

The moment you met Wooyoung inside the company meeting room, the small talks and asserting of flirty words, and the casual walk from the near cafe to grab some drinks for the staff and the boys and the numerous dates he finally took you to.

And the sweet surrender of yes on the night of the countless date nights you both have.

Your life would have to turn over for the best and the worst. It wasn’t discussed within the team to publicise your relationship but fans being fans and their possessiveness with their idols can be a little over the notch as they found out about your relationship with the main dancer of Ateez. While they didn’t know your name or what you looked like—something you were grateful for. 

But it didn’t stop them from attacking you. Indirectly, sometimes directly, their words found a way to reach you.

The glow of your laptop screen felt colder than usual as the hateful comments piled up like bricks on your chest. Wooyoung had warned you about this, his words a mix of care and frustration. "They’re just meaningless words," he’d told you. "Don’t let them break you. They don’t know you like I do."

But the cruelty of their words was precisely the point—to drag you down, make you feel small and undeserving.

Each word you read felt like a dagger, sharp and unrelenting. You had become the topic of conversation for days, and despite your better judgment, you couldn't stop looking. Each glance at the screen chipped away at you, robbing you of your joy, your passion, and your sense of self. The comments weighed heavily on your mind, and over time, the pressure seeped into your body, manifesting in exhaustion and self-doubt.

Your hands gripped your sides as anger and sadness churned inside you. Why couldn’t you be like others your age? Successful, confident, with clear skin and even clearer paths to their futures. The questions spiraled, pulling you deeper into a haze of self-pity and despair.

When you feel your eyes start to burn from staring at the screen a little too long, your hands tremble as you close the browser, you could have avoided going through this but the damage is already done. You were so curious that it killed you. It sent doubt and despair. Tears blurred your vision, and your chest tightened with the weight of emotions you couldn't put into words.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. 

"Y/N?" Wooyoung's familiar voice called out, gentle but laced with concern. "I brought snacks... Can I come in?"

You quickly wiped your tears, but it was too late. Wooyoung had already stepped inside, carrying a tray of your favorite treats. His expression softened the moment he saw your red eyes and trembling lips. Wooyoung had promised you along the time you were growing inside your relationship, to always provide assurance and no tears to shed. Unless they were happy tears.

"Hey," he whispered, placing the tray on your desk before kneeling in front of you. "What happened?"

You shook your head, trying to muster a smile, but it faltered under his gaze. He reached out, his hands warm and steady as they cupped your cheeks.

"Don't say it's nothing," he murmured. "I can see it, Y/N. Talk to me."

The dam broke, and everything spilled out. Between ragged breaths, you told him about the hateful comments, the overwhelming pressure, and the toll it was taking on you. Wooyoung listened intently, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as you spoke. His heart ached watching you break down, seeing the vulnerable side of yours. His own heart breaking as he felt helpless in that moment when you’d been carrying these all alone. He pulled you into his arms as you finished, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. 

When you finally finished, he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. "Y/N, listen to me," he said, his voice firm but kind. "Those people don’t know you. Their words only have as much power as you let them have."

You clung to him, his warmth grounding you. "But it hurts, Wooyoung. It’s like they’re always waiting for me to mess up."

"I know it hurts," he said, his fingers threading through your hair soothingly. "And I wish I could shield you from all of it but what I know …" His fingers run down above your chest, pointing softly where your heart beats slowly. You look at him expectantly.

“The scars that carved your heart are what makes you feel alive.” He leaned back slightly, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. "You're not alone in this, okay? We’re a team. And if anyone has a problem with you, they’ll have to deal with me."

A small laugh escaped your lips despite the tears. "That sounds dangerous."

Wooyoung also let out a small laugh. A moment of silence made you both bask in each other's presence. Wooyoung brushed a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes staring at your shaking ones. His hand lands softly on your cheek, as you lean in on his warmth that made his chest bloom in admiration. 

His thumb caressing your cheek,  “Life comes with a lot of baggage and you don’t know which one carries the heaviest and which one has to go.” 

The tension in your chest eased in his words as Wooyoung picked up one of the snacks from the tray. "Now, let’s eat. You can’t fight internet trolls on an empty stomach."

You chuckled, taking the snack he handed you. "Thank you, Wooyoung. For everything."

"Always," he said, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Now, let’s watch a movie or something. Something funny. No sad stuff allowed."

With Wooyoung by your side, the world felt a little less heavy, you allowed yourself to smile genuinely, knowing you were loved and supported by the best person you could ever ask for. 

And for the first time that day, you come to realize that life indeed has a lot in store for you, either you remove them from you or share them with people. You don’t have to carry what you can no longer hold on to, it’s time for you to realize that having them with you will only drag you down and slower. Find the time to declutter inside your mind and things will be easier for you. Time heals and scars rejoice. 

i hope this one helps, my loves.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hiatus announcement.

Hi friends. I've got some stuff I need to focus on in my personal life right now, and I'm not able to balance that with keeping up with Tumblr and Discord. I'll be taking a hiatus starting immediately. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but hopefully it won't be too long. If you have submitted a request for a fic, design, or artwork, please know I'll do my absolute best to fill it when I'm back, but for now, I need to be present in my real life.

I love you all, and I'll miss you, and I can't wait to come back! I'll put a few more details below the cut in case you're interested. CW for medical issues.

My partner has been unwell recently, and this week, we discovered that they have a blood clot in their leg. Further testing revealed they have a serious heart condition. Unfortunately, they also have a preexisting vascular condition that makes blood thinners risky, but their PCP went ahead and prescribed a three-month course of medication for the clot since it's an immediate issue. We are waiting to hear if insurance will cover the meds; apparently this prescription gets rejected by insurers frequently due to the cost. (Thinking about the fact that some analyst in a cubicle could decide that my partner's life is worth less than a three-month course of medication is making me feel absolutely sick.)

They have more appointments scheduled with a cardiologist and a vascular surgeon, so for now, we're just kind of stuck in limbo. Their PCP gave us a long list of, "If x happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If y happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If z happens - you guessed it - go to the emergency room immediately."

At this point, I'm still trying to come to terms with it. My partner just turned 44. We have an active lifestyle; we eat healthfully; we don't drink to excess. We just got fucked over by genetic risk factors.

The scariest part is that we wouldn't have found out about any of this if they hadn't gone to the doctor for a completely unrelated issue. I'm trying not to think about it too hard, or my imagination starts to send me into a spiral.

Please allow me to get sappy for a moment:

If you've read much of my work, you probably know my partner better than you might think, as they inspire a lot of my characterization, either directly or indirectly. If you enjoyed the way I wrote Waxer in "The Sixth Language" or Jesse in "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves," then you have a good idea of their personality. They are extraordinarily kind and patient, funny and sweet. They have been here for me consistently for twenty years, first as my friend, and later as my everything. They've held me when I cried, and they've made me laugh every single day since I met them. They know me better than anyone in the world, and I trust them with my soul.

They are the only person IRL who even knows that I write fanfiction, and they have read every single fic I've ever written. They've served as my guinea pig when I needed to work through the physical mechanics of a scene, and they've listened to me ramble for hours on end about plotting and characterization. They've supported and encouraged me in this and so many other areas, and now it's my turn to support them through this.

If you've read this far, I just want to say thank you for all the love, support, encouragement, and kindness you've given me over the past year. This fandom community has truly changed my life, and I am more grateful than words can communicate. I hope to see you all again very soon, hopefully with good news. But in the meantime, please know that I love you all.

May the Force be with you. 🩵

[nesswritesnonsense]

This Isn’t Writing Advice, It’s a Cry for Help

I am so sick of reading writing advice. It’s always just write, write, write. But what if I don’t want to? What if I want to daydream about my stories until I’m spiraling into Fae folklore, casually coming up with a title, opening line, and outline for a monster smut novel I never intend to write? (Pixie Dust and Fairy Fucks)

That’s what writing chaos is—it’s starting a story with an idea that spirals into five unrelated outlines, naming characters after inside jokes, and abandoning plot structure entirely just to spite the "rules" of how things are supposed to be done. “Ooh, you have to learn the rules before you break them.” No, you see, I already understand exactly why the fictional protagonist of my fake Fae smut gets trapped with her domineering Fae lover. I did the research. I know the Fae lore to back it up.

But I’m not that type of writer. I don’t write about that. Or am I?

Let me break down the writing process—or, more accurately, offer a cautionary tale—in a way you’ve never seen before. This isn’t about structure or discipline—it’s about embracing the chaos, because that’s where my creativity thrives. This is the beautifully inefficient process that works for me—feel free to borrow it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Proceed with caution (and maybe some emotional armor):

Existential Blank Page Panic:"What if I never have another good idea again?" The terror of starting. The blinking cursor feels like it’s mocking you, and you question why you even thought writing was a good idea in the first place.

Chaotic Word Vomit: Let’s just dump everything out and see what sticks." Ideas spill out wildly—some genius, some completely incoherent, some downright degeneracy (like Pixie Dust and Fairy Fucks, the smut that will never be written). But it’s all progress.

Procrastination Justified: "But first… let me clean my entire apartment." You convince yourself that everything else is critical to the writing process.

Research Rabbit Hole: "I just need to look up one quick fact…" 5 hours later, you’re an expert on an unrelated topic.

Outline Illusion: "If I make the perfect outline, this will write itself!" Spoiler: It won’t.

Epic Fuck This Moment: "Why did I think I could do this? This is garbage." Frustration peaks, and quitting feels inevitable. You beat yourself up and consider another hobby—and now you have an entire craft room that would put Michaels out of business.

Overthink Everything:"Is this comma necessary? Should I change my protagonist’s name… again?" You spiral into tiny details that don’t really matter.

Accidental Writing Moment:"I blacked out, and now there are words on the page?" Somehow, you’ve written something without realizing it. It’s not perfect, but hey—it exists.

Surprise Achievement Unlocked:"Okay, maybe I can do this." Euphoria hits—you made real progress, and it doesn’t totally suck.

Creative Delusion High:"This is the best thing anyone has ever written!" A fleeting but glorious moment of inflated confidence.

Editing Abyss:"I’ve read this sentence 47 times, and it no longer makes sense." Endless tweaking leads to self-doubt, and imposter syndrome sets in hard.

Disclaimer: I never claimed I was a professional, so if this so-called "advice" leaves you staring at a blank screen or suddenly pursuing a stained glass hobby, that’s on you. Chaos is contagious—consider yourself warned.

Identity Crisis Stage:"Wait… am I actually a writer?"You begin to question everything. Maybe you are good at this? Or maybe you’re just delusional?

Reset to Chaos: "Just kidding, back to square one." You realize writing is a never-ending cycle of nonsense. Whether you’re starting a new project or reworking the same one, the chaos continues.

[leejenowrld]

hi, it’s me again lol just wanted to ask on how do you pump out creativity like this back to back? esp with back to you’s storyline, just how did you form it??

- 💐

hi angel! this is gonna be a very long response. so ‘back to you’ has always felt so natural for me. i think it’s because i’ve had the core of it in my head for so long—ever since writing ‘love me back,’ i knew i wanted it to be a two-part character study, with mark’s story coming first and jeno’s second. jeno was always going to be the nathan-coded character. i just knew i wanted to push it further—to make it sexier, messier, more mature, something that really explored boundaries and spirals and self-destruction in a way that still felt deeply personal.

i always say this but ideas really just come to me when i’m watching one tree hill. it sounds silly but the show is such a huge inspiration—it gave me the blueprint, and from there, everything just built itself out in layers. when i’m watching scenes from the show, i get these flashes of my characters in those settings or having those conversations, and it kind of snowballs into scenes and arcs and full episodes of their own. sometimes i’ll pause an episode halfway through just to go open my notes and write a scene that’s completely unrelated but emotionally triggered by something brooke, lucas, nathan, haley or peyton said. there’s certain lines + plots that are directly drawn from/heavily influenced from oth too

and ‘back to you’ in particular has grown so much thanks to all the behind-the-scenes stuff i’ve done for it. the moodboards, the lore, answering asks about the characters, creating timelines, writing drabbles, ask the characters, #facts — backtoyou, building family, friendship, sexual dynamics—when i say every single thing is connected, i mean it. there are entire mini arcs and parallel structures in place that haven’t even surfaced yet, but they help keep the story coherent in my head. it’s like i’m constantly talking to the characters—what would jeno do if he saw that? how would y/n react to this? what secret is karina keeping from the group that nobody knows yet? those little questions lead me to huge plot beats.

so yeah. it’s a combination of always visualizing things vividly, pulling inspiration from my favourite stories, and letting the characters tell me where they want to go. and once they start speaking, it doesn’t stop. ‘back to you’ has always felt incredibly natural to me. from the very beginning, i had a clear vision of the world and characters—especially jeno. writing him doesn’t feel challenging or forced; it flows, like i instinctively know how he’d react, how he’d touch, how he’d love, how he’d hurt. i’m comfortable inside his voice, inside his contradictions, and that ease is what’s made the story so long and layered. the ideas never stop. they come to me at night, when i’m walking, in the middle of conversations—because this world lives in me so fully now, it moves on its own.

guys i'm about to drop exclusive never shared before information: the main character in love me back was originally meant to be jaemin, not mark. i wanted it to be him because at the time i didn’t think i could write mark naturally (lol look at me now). but to make the brother dynamic work, i ended up choosing mark because of the “lee” thing. i could’ve done donghyuck, but i just didn’t want to go in that direction for this story. i really wanted jaemin, lmao, but i’m satisfied with making it mark. i never thought i’d be able to write him the way i did—but now, i wouldn’t change a thing. i crafted his characterisation precisely. he’s hot, understated, dominant in an effortless and attractive way. there’s one think about mark that resonates with me. i wanted to show that he’s grown up very loved and wanted despite growing up without his biological father. i wanted to show that he knows what love is, what it looks like, what it’s like to love and to be loved.

and the truth is, the first two chapters of love me back are really short because i didn’t know what the fic was going to become yet. i was still getting a feel for it. but once i saw how people were reacting—how emotionally invested everyone was—it gave me this rush of inspiration. i started brainstorming with friends who love my writing, sending them ideas at 2am, sending them entire character arcs, sketching out outlines with songs and quotes and hypothetical heartbreaks. and from that, ‘back to you’ came alive. it was already alive but it really came alive. that’s why you should always interact with me and send me asks and messages as those who interact are ones i get close to and i talk to them a lot about my fics !!!! for example i became very close with orbi (@hyperbolicheart) after i reached out to her when she commented on ‘love me back’ and since then we haven’t gone a day without speaking about ‘back to you’ i love to give credit and recognition when it’s due. 1 — orbi chose the name of the fic, she suggested ‘back to you’ to me and i loved it. 2 - she’s helped me come up with a lot of essential key plot ideas you guys love through our brainstorming and she’s even come up with some of the plots which i’ve adapted snd included. send me an another ask if you wanna know which ones, if i explained them here if be here forever. 3 - orbi knows how ‘back to you’ will end, she knows how the tl will be, she sees exclusive content and full scenes, she basically knows the plot!!! apart from me, she’s the only one who knows the ending and how each chapter will end and the ins and outs of the plot :))) my point is i love meeting new people so if you’re one of those readers who are too scared to interact with me don’t be!!!

so yeah. a huge part of that flow is because of my love, orbi. we truly do brainstorm and talk about the fic every single day, and her support is everything to me. she doesn’t just listen—she gets it. she reflects things back in such a poetic, achingly beautiful way that it sparks something deeper in me every time. the way she words things? it’s like pulling emotion straight from the center of something intimate and raw. it brings clarity. motivation. the feeling of the story. she understands bty not just intellectually but emotionally, and it makes all the difference. she’s been with me through every messy thought, every twisted plot, every “what if.” and her love has been constant.

also, my discord community and everyone who's ever reblogged, sent an ask, messaged me—you make this universe feel alive. it’s so heartwarming to see the love bty has found. the way people pick up on symbolism, moments, dynamics—it’s surreal. it makes me feel like this world isn’t just something i made—it’s something we’re all in. i write back to you the way i do because i know every corner of it. every in and out. every secret. every heartbreak. this kind of universe-building lets me breathe inside the story, and that’s what makes it special to me. thank you for seeing it, for feeling it, and for loving it back.

[fluidstatick]

I've already written one disjointed essay about what an awesome concept Trauma Dump With Lou Wilson is, but I'm finally watching it straight through for the first time and I have to write another one, I guess?

Paul: So what do you think negative emotion is for?

Lou: [takes out his phone] Hold on, we're on a break, I think.

Paul: Are we on a break? [Lou swivels his chair away. Paul grins.] Are you stiff-arming right now?

Lou: [smiling, mumbling] No, no, no. Hold on, hold on. My private chef is asking me what I want for dinner.

[Paul nods slowly, bemused.]

Lou: Baked chicken ricotta meatballs, plus creamy sauce and pasta...

[Paul grins at the ceiling; dissolves into silent quaking laughter for a moment; refocuses his attention on his hand while he waits for the tension to break]

Lou: French dip and mashed potatoes ...

[Paul, nodding again, clutching at his patience as he tries to ride out this truly absurd brick wall]

Lou: That sounds.... fuckin'...

[Something in Paul snaps. He ragdolls to one side, throws a hand over his eyes, cackles aloud at the madness of whatever the fuck is happening. After a moment Lou chuckles back, stiffly, without looking up.]

Lou: Ah-ha-ha-haaa. Oooouu, I just got so hungry... [twelve seconds pass. A camera drifts over to look at a couple members of the crew - another cameraman, the director sitting on the floor.]

Something about Paul finally laughing aloud, and the camera slowly turning toward the crew, made me start to cry.

There's a quiet catharsis in the polish of the bit starting to chip. Paul stumbles out of his Professional Facade in the face of such overt avoidance. The crew stares into the void Lou has dangled everyone over. ure dead air. The unrelenting psychological fog of a man who refuses to engage with any form of pain, holding a room full of people hostage about it, just two minutes after being asked "Do you think anyone in your life would say you're difficult to talk to because of this pivoting to make people laugh?"

He's literally in a swivel chair. He literally pivots away from the topic at hand. It's high art. It's magic. Lou Wilson is a genius and a madman. Just as I'm starting to stare into the abyss myself, thinking about Mental Health TikToks, the Commodification of Self Help, and the Death Spiral of Authenticity inthe age of Attention Economics, Lou casually says

You done your Spotify Wrapped yet?

Ten more long seconds. Snippets of music leap out of Lou's phone. Paul carefully examines him, and finally -

Paul: Lou -

Lou: Yeah.

Paul: Could you just put the phone away?

The humor isn't the character. TD!Lou is a smoke screen. We have to look at him so hard to find even a flicker of honesty and vulnerability that everything around him starts to warp and crack. He's a nightmare of repression and ego and fear, and this evokes a state of amazed glee in Paul that one could easily mistake for some kind of divine revelation.

I'm reminded of that feeling when a really bad argument has hit a wall. You've just learned something earth shaking about the person who's been quietly challenging you for days, weeks, years. There's no safe way down from this ledge. You're wondering if your relationship with this person is on its way to ruin. Something has changed fundamentally between you, and you might as well be holding each other at knifepoint. Then - what? - a cloud shifts, or the refrigerator stops buzzing, or your ears pop. Something breaks, silently; everything is weightless for just an instant. The tension of the situation evaporates. The moment is beyond repair and beautiful and meaningless, and all this hiding and dodging and prodding and bargaining is an absurd ballet to an empty theater.

What's the point of this bit? Why is Paul here? Why is Lou here? Why are any of us here? Isn't it just fuckin' ridiculous? All of it? We can't be honest with each other because there's so much in the way - fear and politeness, reputation and assumptions - but how can these be obstacles at all, when we claim we want and need to love and be loved? What is Lou afraid of? What are we afraid of?

[st7arlight]

meet the sims-blackwood family!! this is set post-200 in a new world where the fears are weaker and more hidden in the shadows, but quickly building strength as more avatars and artifacts are born. meet blaire and not-adam, two students in jon’s homeroom and english class!

worldbuilding and brainstorm notes under the cut :D

the student ocs i created here are

-a transfem student who straight up doesnt have a name. you can call her anything but her deadname. its a fun game the class plays. it started as a gag but jon went “yeah okay ive seen weirder and kids deserve a chance to explore” so he comes up with a different name every day during roll call. shes v chaotic and inspired (personality wise, not funky name lore) by an irl friend of mine

-the student she has a crush on and is best friends with, an AP art student who uses they/she pronouns

they both eat lunch in Jon’s classroom, where they eventually notice that he never really eats much? just. reads a book in his free time, maybe has cereal bars occasionally

they form really close bonds with jon and he sponsors their lgbt club,,,, the second student realizes she’s agender when hes explaining the ace spectrum,,,,,, they come across The Horrors that were released when jmart moved on to Somewhere Else and he saves them,,,,,,,,, after they start to understand that “something spooky is here bc of mr sims but he was a victim in it” they sneakily start categorizing what they call “The Horrors” into 9 groups and get into shenanigans. they save jon at some point

their romance follows the plot of jmart’s but jon notices student B treating student A like he did martin at the start of the year and intervenes

so theyre healthier

(maybe jmart adopt student b, as they’re in a rlly unsafe home environment and thats why they started lashing out at their buddy)

at the beginning of the year student A knows shes trans but isnt sure what name to use. her buddy suggests not-adam (as she isnt suuuper uncomfy with her deadname, just that its too masc for her) so they call her that for a good bit and it comes up occasionally until they learn about the fears and the joke kinda. sours.

jon called her anything but that. not-adam thought it was because he didnt want to deadname her (and she insisted she was cool with it and thought it was funny) but she said that he can use a name that isnt adam, just not to stick to one bc she didnt want to feel boxed in

so the joke of her being anything but adam began

!!! WHAT IF NOT ADAM HAS AN ENCOUNTER WITH A STRANGER OBJECT THAT MAKES EVERYONE UNABLE TO SEE OR REMEMBER HER??? AND (character B) IS THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS HER BUT STILL CANT SEE HER!!!! AND THIS IS HOW JON REVEALS HE KNOWS STUFF ABOUT THE SUPERNATURAL

student b breaks down only a couple days in when she realized something was deeply, truly wrong, earing lunch (seemingly) alone with jon in his classroom. she says something with “not-adam” and “nobody remembers her but me” and jon’s trauma plus eye powers helps break his illusion, even though he doesnt remember her still

WHAT IF THIS IS AROUND WHEN NOT ADAM IS STARTING TO SEE HIM AS A FATHER

he adopts her bc she still legally doesnt exist and her family doesnt remember her , and its not like jmart already have fake identities anyways. they break the curse but everyone but B and Jon are completely wiped of her memory, just can finally see her now. its a mush of stranger, spiral, and lonely bc the horrors work different here

…she eventually settles on a name because she desperately needs to be reminded that they know her, they remember her, and that they remember all of her. (jon doesnt remember *everything* still, but most. every now and then she or B references something and they pause when they realize it was another memory lost to The Horrors)

oh also jon wears combat boots bc of daisy now. unrelated but important

im realizing my plan of them adopting B is a little funky with them adopting not-adam. however, unconventional found family prevails in tma. B just stays at their house most of the time bc she is neglected a lot at home so it usually isnt noticed when she disappears. theyre both 16 so fighting for custody when they can move out so soon is deemed too much stress on the teens. not-adam’s family actually are v loving and great, they just. dont remember NA. they dont remember how to love her, that they ever did

(thats why B needed to remember her. also, the effect intended of the horror was to torture NA until she died unnoticed and she will either be remembered by everyone when her body is found or will rot unseen until shes gone. or become an avatar, if she chose to embrace it. B was an intended victim of the leitner, the fear of nobody believing you and losing someone you love feed the Horrors)

(jon and his funky eye powers are likely the only reason NA didnt die)

in the end A picks the name astrid, but jon still calls her any name he can think of that starts with A when calling her down for food n stuff

anyways jmart unofficially adopting queer teens bc found family is so themcore but i *know* the fates would never allow them to do anything conventionally or fully legal

(all of this copy-pasted from me infodumping in a tma chat in the past couple hours)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to get back with an ex?

So i (21m) was in a poly relationship with S (21x) and J (24m) for about a year (so that would be when i was 20, S was 19 and J was 22)

Midway through the relationship i was going through some mental health shit so i kind of subconsciously distanced myself (my bad, i definitely shouldve been upfront about what was happening but i have vulnerability issues)

Dont get me wrong, i wasnt straight up neglectful or anything (to my knowledge?), but i really didnt go out with them as much as i used to (if one of us couldnt attend, the other two would go as a couple. It was more efficient like) and didn't really feel as much "honeymoon" intensity if that makes sense

I think its also important to note that once i was semi-able to pull myself out of my rut i decided to start these big art projects to show my appreciation for them and also kind of make up for my distance, like that shit took up my time and sleep and effort. i felt like i wanted to take the next step from casual dating to something actually serious with a future and everything because getting out of my spiral made me remember how much i loved them

So i called them up and found out that they kind of... kicked me off the polycule?? It was this weird situation where they thought I was leaving them behind so they also fully moved in together and started acting like a regular couple without me. obviously i was pissed, and S apologized and tried to communicate which i really appreciate, but J was just doubling down blaming me. At the time i was so angry i turned it into a full out yelling match

I realized it wasnt healthy nor working out and broke it off fully, telling S we could still be friends but cutting J off entirely. I gave all J's shit that was still at my place back to S, blocked J's number and scrapped my project altogether

Fast forward to present day, and im in a completely unrelated relationship with two people i love with all my heart, and by this time ive healed and mended my relationship with S enough that i thought we could start over and add them to the polycule (to be clear my current partners like them too and are on board). We did do that, it's going great and i'm remembering why i loved S so much in the first place

The issue is that S is still with J, and while J doesn't have any issues with both of us separately dating S, S wants all of us to reunite again for old times sake and its very obvious that theyre still holding onto the old versions of us and what we used to be. I say no, i dont even like J anymore and havent spoken to him in forever so why the hell would i care?? Ive grown and changed so much in the time after our relationship that i wouldnt even fit into the nostalgic mold that you want me to be a part of and i dont think J would either

The thing is J does also seem like hes interested in starting over. S said he's grown a lot since, but i think our personalities just dont mesh and ive also just fallen fully out of love with him. It seems to break S's heart, but they get it and don't bother me about it anymore. On the other hand J respects my decision but is still like passive aggressively annoyed about how seriously i took it, saying it was mostly my fault and i took drastic measures for nothing.

Aita?

What are these acronyms?

[zuzsenpai]

personal post. sorry there's been so many lately. politics mention. verbal abuse mention

Wednesday was rough for A LOT of people, no doubt about it. I was upset and spent the day scrolling through tumblr and talking to friends, grasping at whatever positive messages I could find. A lot of those messages about surviving and living in spite of everything... they did help me. I didn't feel good by the end of the day, but I at least felt loved.

So my mom is 65 and has undiagnosed and unmedicated depression. She's retired and spends a lot of time trying to fill her life with exercise, loom weaving, bible study, book clubs, etc. But she's not a happy person by any means and I can't remember a time in my 36 years of life when she was upbeat or positive in any way. She had a tumultuous childhood filled with a lot of yelling and she had a few traumatic incidents as an adult that she's never gone to therapy for and never will. My mom and I have had pretty bad fights over the years about various things I won't get into, but things had been generally calm recently.

So anyway, on Wednesday evening my dad was out at a basketball game so my mom was alone. I went over there just to kind of be a presence in the house. It was fine for a while, until she brought up the election. She quickly became extremely distraught and started sobbing about how our current government will be overthrown and the US will be a dictatorship and there's nothing to live for. Which, okay. I get it. There are very real possibilities of that happening. But I wanted to try and calm her down. I told her some of the things I had been seeing all day about how they want us to be miserable and have no hope. There are still things to live for and we have to hold those things close. That if I decide to declare everything is over right here and now, then I would have to accept that the rest of my life is going to be miserable forever.

Well she wasn't having any of that. She was very clearly spiraling. I made the colossal mistake of telling her I thought she was catastrophizing and wanted her to calm down. The words came out of my mouth before I could think rationally about what I was saying. Because like... of all days for anyone to be allowed to be distraught and rightfully catastrophize things, Wednesday was it. I just hated seeing her so upset and I guess I wanted it to end.

Well she started screaming at me, which is her right, because I was a shithead. She asked if I thought she didn't have the right to be upset. I tried to apologize and say that of course she has a right to be upset. I just wanted to make it better somehow. She screamed at me to get out of the house. So I left.

I felt like I got my hand burned. I went home and cried until I fell asleep, because I hated how I treated her. It was not lost on me that I was treating her exactly how she's always treated me every time I got upset around her, over the course of my entire life. Instead of listening or being sympathetic, she would try to "fix" the problem, or tell me I'm just crying because I want sympathy, or tell me I'm overreacting. I was told I was overreacting A LOT as a kid and teen. I never got sympathy from her. Ever.

My dad texted me about something unrelated about an hour ago, asking me to pick something up at their house. This was the first time I'd spoken with either of them since that incident on Wednesday. I responded by saying I was concerned about coming over because I was worried mom was angry with me. He told me she's "over it", which... who knows if that's true. There are seemingly minor things I've said to her that she takes to heart and brings up for decades. So you'll have to excuse me if I don't believe she's "over it". Then my dad said:

"Remember she gets emotional then feels bad about it later. You just have to be careful about telling her not to be upset about something. Apparently that happened a lot when she was young."

Yeahhh..... so now I feel even more like shit, and like I said something she's going to take to heart forever. In hindsight, I should have been sympathetic. I know people in her childhood household yelled at each other a lot. I guess it's not a huge leap to think that she was verbally abused and told her emotions weren't valid. I just.... wish that cycle didn't continue from her to me... and apparently now from me back to her. I am notorious for having a hard time thinking before speaking. So uhhhhh I really need to do better.

[void-keeper]

//

not a call to attention, just putting words somewhere.

love and deepspace means a lot to me. it’s been one of those rare games that actually pulled something soft and sincere out of me. but lately? it feels like it’s all just banners. banner after banner, costume after costume—like being handed candy when you asked for a story. and it’s hard to stay excited when everything starts to blur together.

combine that with the fun spiral of a mental health crisis and having to return to work like a functioning adult, and my brain has basically left the building. fandom spaces that once felt comforting now just… don’t. i’m tired and distant and easily overwhelmed, which is a bad cocktail for feeling like a normal participant in anything.

and maybe this is unrelated, but in another fandom, i got manipulated into picking a side in some drama i barely understood. it backfired. the whole space imploded, and my feelings toward that fandom have just soured completely. i’ve been thinking about how easy it is to get wrapped up in things without even realizing you’re being used. it makes it harder to trust the next time around.

also. hi, RSD. i know i’m being irrational, but the fear of being “too much” or annoying or always saying the wrong thing is so loud lately. i’ve felt really isolated. rp used to be a lifeline for me. it still is. just, if replies are slow—it’s not you. it’s just my brain doing its best impersonation of static.

[stepfordgoth]

Honestly shout out to anyone who started following me before March 2020 and is still following me to this day, you're the real ones. I just did a bit of thinking and realized that the Covid era really did change/kill/fuck up just about everything for me and put me on a hamster wheel of misery that I'm only now crawling out of. Like obviously I can't blame it all on Covid because lots of things I experienced as part of that hamster wheel were results of my own decision making but honestly when the Covid lockdowns hit I instantly lost my job and also could no longer take my yoga classes multiple times a week..... So not only did I suddenly lose my source of income and the exercise routine that I'd spent years building (which is probably enough to make anyone depressed on its own), I also lost every social outlet with real people off the internet that I had at the time (other than my husband). On top of that, when everything shut down I was already dealing with a "breakup" with my former best friend of a decade that happened two weeks before then (Feb 2020, completely unrelated to Covid), which absolutely broke my heart. So I literally didn't have anyone other than my husband. So when the shutdown hit I felt incredibly lonely and disoriented. And then eventually I started to feel angry. And I think it all snowballed down from there.

My point is, if you've been following me for more than 5 years now you very likely have seen me at my worst and (unless you're hate-following me for some reason lol) I appreciate that you've stuck with me for so long even after watching me spiral into briefly becoming an angry, bitter, fat, day drinking loser bitch. Lol. I'm heading back upwards finally I think. 🩷