#anyways life stuff was squeezing my brain so hard

[omnificent-orion]

A relatively quick painting for a user-run event over on Gaia.

Commission Info | Support My Work

edit: Here's 2024's drawing since I don't feel like making a new post.

[themultifanshipper]

Charles was shocked into silence. How could he not have noticed? He had known you for years and yet, he had never been so turned on in his life, just from hearing you speak.

Warnings: gn!reader, french!reader, cum play? GRATUITOUS amounts of french! Like half the dialogue is in french (with translation). This is entirely self-indulgent! Charles is really stupid in this I’m sorry but it’s for the plot, also he started out dominant then I decided halfway through he should be submissive, then switched back again. Barely proofread, it is 4:30am as I am writing this, sue me. There is disgusting stuff involving cum, and I’m kinda considering this crack because I can’t take french seriously.

Bon appétit, this is a wild ride my friends.

You had been working in formula 1 for most of your adult life, going from media teams to personal assistant, to lots of other jobs that finally led you to your dream job: race engineer.

Well, your dream job was really being a team boss, but baby steps, yeah?

Anyway, you had been promoted to race engineer to the one and only Charles Leclerc following the whole Xavi thing. But before that he’d known you as his assistant for a bit when his own assistant was on maternity leave, and before that you had been the media trainer for a few teams, including Sauber when he was there. He’d literally known you since his debut, and the two of you had grown very close over the years, and saw each other every week. So the fact that he could have missed something like this was embarrassing.

You were at the end of a race, going on about the tyres overheating to Charles over the radio when the car in front of him locked up and slid, forcing him to swerve and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

You gasped as you saw the car make contact. “Oh Putain, ça va Charles ?” (Oh fuck, you ok Charles?) You spoke into your headset but there was no answer, and Charles didn’t seem to be moving so you tried again “Charles, tu m’entends? Est-ce que ça va?!” (Charles can you hear me? Are you ok?)

He finally replied in a shaky voice, and you were finally able to breathe and call the staff that would go get Charles and his car off the track.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles was having a mental crisis. You spoke French?

Since fucking when?

His ears were ringing as he tried to think back your years friendship for any signs. He came up empty. He was positive he’d never heard you speak French before. And he was positive he should not be hard, climbing out of his car after a crash.

When he got back to the garage, you were waiting for him, ready to ask him how he was but before you could say anything he grabbed your arm and dragged you into the nearest room slash maintenance cupboard he could find.

“What the hell are you doing Charles?”

He locked the door and when he turned back around his eyes were dark and stormy “Since when do you speak french?” he asked.

You just blinked at him.

“What?”

He backed you up against the wall, hands either side of your waist.

“Since when” he spoke patronizingly slowly “Do. You. Speak. French.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.

“Charles, I am French. I have a French name. I was born and raised in France! What the fuck do you mean ‘since when do I speak french’???!”

His eyes widened as he realized how oblivious he’d been.

“My dad is friends with Pierre’s parents! I started my career at Renault! I brought you wine from my family’s vineyard! Charles how-�� how could you not have known?” You laughed at him as he just stood there flabbergasted at his own stupidity.

“Sérieusement? Comment?” (seriously, how?)

His brain seemed to reboot and he put his arms around you “Je suis désolé, je suis vraiment débile” (I’m sorry, I’m so stupid) he giggled into your hair.

The proximity was odd but not unwelcome, as you put your arms around him and laughed with him, inhaling his pleasant scent.

“Tu as mis du parfum? Tu sens bon. ” (Have you got cologne on? You smell good)

He groaned. “Keep talking, please” and he squeezed you tighter against him.

You laughed. “Tu sais bien que je parle toujours en français avec Pierre et Este ?” (You know I always speak french with Pierre and Este, right?)

He whimpered into your neck and that’s when you felt it.

You froze in his arms “Charles are you getting hard?”

He put his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes, both of you going cross-eyed. “I’m sorry you just sound so sexy in french” he sniffled.

This was definitely something you could get behind.

“Ouais? Tu veux que je te parle en français pendant les courses alors? (Yeah, you want me to speak to you in french during the races?)

He chewed on his lip and nodded as your hand made its way to the front of his suit to cup him over the fabric.

“T’es sûr? On voudrait pas que tu salisse la voiture, tu devras expliquer aux ingénieurs pourquoi le siège est trempé” (you sure ? We wouldn’t want you to make a mess, you’d have to explain to the engineers why the seat is wet)

He whined and his knees almost buckled, so you turned him around against the wall and unzipped his suit, dragging it down to pool around his ankles, then making quick work of the second layer, leaving him in his very damp underwear. You pulled that down as well as you got a hand around his cock and started a slow pace, teasing the tip with your thumb every now and then. He bucked his hips and whined at the dry friction.

“What’s the matter? Un peu sec?” (a bit dry?) You said teasingly.

“Laisse moi t’aider avec ça” (let me help you with that)

You got down on your knees and his eyelids fluttered as you got your lips around his tip. When you took half of him in your mouth and reached a hand up to cup his balls at the same time, he moaned and thumped his head back onto the wall.

You pulled off “Garde les yeux sur moi, Charles” (keep your eyes on me, Charles)

He did so , with much difficulty, but his eyes snapped to yours and you continued, taking him all the way to the base and massaging his balls gently. His hips bucked up a bit making you gag slightly.

“désolé, je vais pas durer longtemps” (sorry, I’m not gonna last long)

So you picked up the pace and doubled down on your efforts, as his hands flew to your hair.

It took about a minute and a half for him to come, groaning your name while he filled your mouth. He felt like his soul had been sucked out through his dick. You didn’t swallow it all though, wanting to share the load, as it were.

You got up and pulled him in for a kiss, which he gladly accepted, and it was the most disgusting, satisfying kiss you’d ever had, all teeth and spit and cum, some of it dribbling down your necks and chests.

You stayed like that for a while, basking in each other’s embrace (and each other’s mouths) before you suddenly remembered where you were.

“Charles! Don’t you have a press conference to go to?!”

“Je m’en fous, je reste là” (I don’t care, I’m staying here)

He lifted you up and carried you to the other side of the room where there was a conveniently empty shelf, where he set you down before tugging your pants down and spreading your legs to slot himself between them. He was already half hard again as he pumped himself with one hand and used the other to swipe up the cum on his and your chests, then brought his fingers to your entrance, rubbing gently before sliding a finger inside you. It didn’t take much for him to prep you and he used the excess leftover cum to lube himself up and slide into you. You keened as he pressed up into your most sensitive spots. But he just stayed there, grinding slowly into you, driving you mad.

“Please, Charles!” You begged, pronouncing his name the English way.

He cocked his head and grinned at you, and you sighed in desperation.

“S’il te plait… Charles”

His jaw went slack as he used all the energy he had left to pound into you, right in that special spot that made you see stars, over and over until you were a whining mess underneath him.

You came with a shout, back arching off the shelf and he held on to you as he followed soon after.

Charles Leclerc got a heavy fine for not showing up at the post-race conference, or the debrief, or any of his mandatory duties. Fortunately, he had enough money to pay the fine, and take you to dinner that very same night.

[longlivedelusion]

If We We're Everything

Dorian x Orym

@apollosukelele @fairymonk as promised, the morning after the snuggles 🤍 hope you enjoy!

A/N: literally wrote this 20 minutes before the next episode started airing. Barely proofread, but wanted this to get out now now. Hope y'all like my take on this ✨

Warnings: spoilers up till C3 ep111, mentions of world ending stuff and general themes around that (it's C3 c'mon lol)

When Dorian woke up, he expected to be alone. Or maybe, he didn't really know what he expected.

Was the night before a dream? Did he imagine Orym's confession, the soft warmth of his skin pressed against his? The lull of a breath as soothing any lullaby? The smell of Orym, Orym, Orym-

The warmth was still there. The feeling of a body curled against his chest, soft waves threaded through his fingers. He opened his eyes slowly to see the halfling below him, chest rising and falling still in a deep sleep. How rare for him to catch his friend still asleep before him.

His friend. 

Could he just call him that now? What were they? Friends, lovers, partners? He's getting too ahead of himself. As much as he wanted something, everything with Orym, he didn't know what today would bring or what the other even wanted from this. Sure, Orym said he had liked Dorian for a long time, but that doesn't mean he wanted to jump into a relationship persay with him, he-

"I can feel you thinking," Orym said, voice still groggy from sleep.

"I'm sorry, just go back to sleep." He said as he softly began petting Orym's hair back.

"S'okay. Slept longer than usual anyways." Orym nuzzled into the touch before looking up at him with a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi." Dorian felt his face flush slightly at the eye contact, his insides practically melting at the soft green eyes that peered up at him.

They stayed like that a moment, just looking at each other. The fondness in Orym's gaze making it hard for Dorian to think let alone speak.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Orym said, lulling the silence away.

It took Dorian a moment to think of something coherent to say, and he eventually managed out. "Everything, nothing. Us, the world. Today. You."

Dorian watched as the halfling's face changed into a knowing look, threading his fingers through Dorian's and giving them a gentle squeeze. "It's a lot isn't it?"

"It is," Dorian sighed out. "But this is enough. If all of it goes to hell today, then this will have been enough." The partial truth fell from his lips with ease. 

He felt Orym still beneath him, his tense body drawing Dorian's gaze back down. 

"Orym?" Dorian said, the worry seeping into him. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he-

The softest whisper left Orym's lips, otherwise lost if not for the close distance between them. 

"It's not enough." 

"What do you mean?" Dorian's heart sped up.

Orym's gaze flicked up to his, a slight sadness but determination in his eyes that was not there before. He shifted his body up, their heads now side by side in the pillow. 

"It's not enough." He said more clearly now, eyes fixed on his. "I want more time with you. To take you out on dates, to hold your hand. To show you how I feel without having to rush this."

Dorian's chest tightened, his stomach fluttering.

"I want-" Orym said, his voice near begging as he reaches up to cup Dorian's face, "to kiss you, somewhere beautiful. Somewhere you deserve. Not because the world might end and I might never get the chance to if I don't."

"Orym-" he felt his breath catch, eyes flickering down to the halfling's lips. How could his breath catch? "This is perfect, you're perfect. Just like this."

"You deserve the best, Dorian."

"You already are that," he said, holding Orym's hand to his face. "This, this is so much more than I ever could have imagined. Your touch alone makes my brain shatter and come together again in moments. This is nothing I've never experienced in my life, and best of all, I get to experience this with you. That's all I care about."

Orym's gaze held true to Dorian's, never wavering. "I still can't believe you feel the same way."

"I do," he said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly as he realized with a flush. "I do. Feel very much the same." 

Dorian's gaze lowered to the halfling's lips and then up before he spoke again. "I'd really like to kiss you now, if that's alright."

Orym chuckled, the lines by his eyes crinkling slightly as he moved closer, but not quite where he wanted him. "That's more than alright."

Dorian's hand moved to Orym's jaw, fingers threading to the back of his head. His heart felt like a mess of nerves as he leaned forward. Never had he had anyone like this, someone he cared so deeply for, who made his skin feel feel alight, who made him feel this desire, this passion, this.

This.

His lips slowly pressed onto Orym's, a sigh escaping his love's lips as he kissed back. 

Dorian's thoughts left his mind. There was nothing but Orym in that moment, Orym's lips against his, the way they moved so slowly against his own, so patiently. He felt his heart beating so fast he swore the others could hear it from the other rooms if they tried. He tasted sweetness and possibility on Orym's lips, of trust and home, and it was so so perfectly Orym. So perfectly everything.

They did not break the spell for some time that morning, not even as life began to breathe into the others, as the smell of breakfast crept under the door. Only as they were forced apart by the sound of knocking from an apologetic Laudna did they break, and they laid their foreheads against one another for support as they caught themselves. Brought themselves back. 

They would make it through this day, if not for more of this. More of everything.

[crsssie]

the blue of your eyes, the blue of the sky

word count: 3.3k

warnings: hurt/comfort

summary: all the colors in the world couldn't compare to the blue of his eyes

You wonder some days how things ended up this way.

The setting sun paints your skin a colorful gold, a golden color you can't see, a golden color that your supposed soulmate says looks gorgeous. The sky is supposedly red, red bleeding into pink which then mixes into purple, a hundred colors that the average human eye can detect. Colors that you can't see no matter how hard you try. You met your soulmate, you did, but you can't see color in the same way he can. The only reason you know he's your soulmate is because years ago when the two of you had just met, you saw the most brilliant color in the world. The crashing of ocean waves, the dazzling baby blue of the sky, the blue on your soulmate's vigilante suit, the mesmerizing cerulean of his eyes.

You locked eyes with Nightwing, saw the most dazzling color of your life, and then as fast as it had come, it disappeared, your footing loose, falling off the same roof you had met your soulmate.

Something about your visual cortex had been damaged from the fall, rendering you unable to see the other colors, even after meeting your soulmate. Something else about how Broca's area made it so that you would slower speaking, speak less, less words, words easier. Essentially, your ability was back to that of a seven-year-old. The words are there, but they would come out slower than on average. You didn't care. Your brain still worked. You were more bothered about your vision.

The only color you knew was blue.

The blue of that one moment when you got to see your soulmate's eyes.

Two hours after you woke up, a man had rushed in, gorgeous blue eyes, reaching for your hand, his heart stuttering.

"I'm sorry." He had gotten on his knees, crying. "I'm sorry," He repeated, whimpering it, the same word repeated over and over again, tears dribbling down his face, and you looked at him. He had the same eyes as your soulmate. Nightwing, was it? You sat there in the bed, letting him cry, no words finding their way past your lips, unsure of what to say. What do you say? It's alright? It's okay? I don't mind that I lost my ability to see color because of you? You had just stared in silence, only blinking lightly outside the window when he had stopped apologizing, glancing longingly at the blue that was fading out of the sky.

"What color is that?" You squeeze the hand in yours, pointing at the sky, the fading dark blue.

"Purple." He mumbles. "That's purple."

"Does the sky turn purple at night?"

"It turns dark blue." Dick whispers. "It's purple because the sun is setting."

"What color is the sun?"

"At this hour, red." He mumbles, eyes bloodshot. You notice the streaks in his eye, blinking slowly.

"What color are the streaks in your eye?" You whisper.

"Red."

"Do your eyes turn red after crying?" Your voice matches his.

"Yes." Dick closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." You whisper.

Dick takes you home, your place, to pack up. Soulmates were expected to live together. It didn't matter if the two of you didn't know each other. It was the norm, and his place was better than yours, so it didn't matter. You packed your stuff, and Dick told you he'd take care of your furniture, asking which pieces you wanted to keep. "It doesn't matter. Keep the packaged boxes in the storage." You couldn't see any of their colors anyway, but those photos meant something to you, even if the only thing you could see was blue.

"Do you want a separate room?" Dick smiles apologetically, and you stare at his dog, crouching down to pet her. The grey in her hair has streaks of blue, so she looks very much faded to you.

"What's her name?"

"Haley." He smiles. "Bitewing too."

You scratch her stomach as she rolls over, and you blink at Dick.

"She has streaks of blue in her fur."

"That's good." Dick smiles. "is she blue?"

"A very faded shade of blue, but blue nonetheless." You whisper, gentle smile on your face. "A blueish grey."

Most colors look grey to you. You stare at the computer, splotches of grey all over it, reaching to press the buttons on the screen, taking the color picker, learning the colors based on the RBG of it all. You drag the mouse across the screen, almost as if you were intrigued by the other colors. Dick finds you on his computer, mouse dragged at a certain point, mumbling quietly, trying to memorize what shade of grey of the colors that weren't blue.

"What... color is this?" You point at the color on your screen, no traces of blue visible at all.

"The lighter one," Dick points. "Is yellow. The darker one is red."

You go back to scribbling on the page, colored pencils splayed out on the table. A thousand words on a sheet of paper, Dick finds. He can't cook for you, but he's worried you'll hurt yourself while cooking, so the two of you are stuck with takeout. You don't complain, asking him for the color of the shrine on the Chinese takeout box.

"That's red too."

"Brighter than the one on the screen?"

"Yeah."

You slip a piece of orange chicken to Haley, going back to your own food.

"Is there blue food?"

"Artificially dyed." He smiles at you sadly.

"Don't look at me like that." You frown. "I'm only asking you because I can't see the other colors."

"I know." He can't stop the guilt from crawling up his throat and eating him alive.

You turn to look outside the window again. "I want to travel."

Dick blinks at you. "To where?"

"Everywhere." You mumble.

You long for a freedom that Dick can't give you. He knows it, yet he returns home in the early hours of the morning, staring at your sleeping form in the bed, curled up next to your phone, Santorini and the Aegean sea on it, the clean waters of the Blue Lagoon, the Great Barrier Reef, all the blues in the world in your hand, a fascination with the ocean visible from your glowing screen in the early hours of the morning. He tucks himself into bed next to you, arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing just a little harder than usual, almost as if scared to lose you.

But you never bring up traveling again, almost as if you had realized you would never get to go. Your soulmate was in Blüdhaven, you were born and raised in Blüdhaven, the rest of your life would be here in Blüdhaven. You had no future in a place you had never visited before. You would be stuck in a city of red (as Dick had told you) and you would be stuck with the bricks and old architecture in the city. Your fingers would brush the bricks as white would come off of it, power on your fingers. The city was not where you belonged. It was evident in the way you spent so much of your time on the internet, longing for a place where you could see color on buildings.

"Go." Dick mumbles one night, blinking slowly as he focuses on the way your phone screen lights your face.

"Hm?"

"Go." Dick repeats himself, more sure this time. "Find yourself in the cities of blue."

"Are you sure?"

Dick wraps his arms around you tighter, burying his face into your chest.

"Go." He whispers, like a quiet prayer to you. "I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Dick sends you off with a card of his and a kiss on your forehead, promising to wait, promising to send you messages and updates. You smile at him, something more genuine on your face, your lips pulled upward, excitement all over your body. There's something else on your skin, something sweeter, something prettier. You look like you're ready to leave, and Dick won't be the one to hold you back.

"How long will it take?" He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.

"I will tell you." You smile.

And as with all things, Dick lets go.

Dick busies himself with rebuilding Blüdhaven as you busy yourself with the cities of blue, taking polaroids and noting down cities, gluing them into scrapbooks, scribbling little notes to yourself and Dick, texting him updates on your life. You wanted to ask him where he got the money, really, but just from the fact that you had never worried about where to stay or when to leave, you were thankful. You collect blue trinkets, taking notes on your phone as to why that one specifically, smile on your lips when you find ones that remind you of Dick's eyes. You missed them no matter how gorgeous the cities you lived in were.

"Hey." You hum, pressing speaker on your phone as you settle into the bathtub.

"Hey." Dick hums. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in Santorini." You hum.

"Did you go to Iceland already?"

"Yeah." You yawn.

"Where to next?"

"Wanted to see Istanbul." You hum. "Oh, and then I wanted to see Palestine."

"That's quite a jump." Dick mumbles, placing Haley's bowl down. "Anywhere between that?"

"Thought about Tibet, and then I wanted to see Japan."

"Isn't it cold there?"

"Yeah, but their skies are super clear. Oh, and then after Japan I was thinking about Hawaii."

"Are you going to the Maldives?"

"Maybe next time." You mumble. "Oh, and Cancun too. I also found out Havana's buildings are bustling with color, so I'll definitely stop there before I head back to Blüdhaven."

"Is it fun?"

"Hey, how are you funding my travels?"

"I was left two billion dollars by my father's butler. He didn't have children, so my father and I were the closest thing to children he had."

"Ah." You mumble. "What kind of a man was he?"

"He was..." Dick smiles gently, telling you about Alfred, about all the times he had been raised and taken care of, memories spilling past his lips from his heart, forgetting about time. You hum along, listening, staring out the window, the ocean at your fingertips. You reach for the blue, closing your eyes as you imagine what Dick's eyes look like, chest warm, heart fluttering.

Your name spilling past his lips causes you to come back.

"Hm?"

"What about you? You send photos, but you never tell me anything."

"I miss your eyes." You hum. "The blue of your eyes."

"Yeah? Can't find them anywhere?"

"No." You breathe. "I miss your eyes." You exhale again.

"I miss your eyes too."

"Yeah? What about them?"

"The way the stars reflect in them when you stare at me when I get back from patrol," Dick mumbles. "The way they hold hundreds of stories behind them, your entire history and heritage, the laughter behind your eyes when you're about to smile. I miss the reflection of a thousand souls in your eyes."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dick hums. "So enjoy your trip and find all the colors of the world and then return, will you?"

"What color's the grass again?" You glance at the plant next to your bathtub, a new color appeared.

"Green."

"I found a color back." You grin, the green registering in your vision. "Green."

"The color of Jason's eyes, the color of grass, the color of..."

"The color of the palm trees." You smile. "Thank you, Dick."

"Anything for you."

You stare at the grass, wind blowing in your hair, blinking slowly at the color. You wonder what's green in Blüdhaven. Was it the grass in the park where Alfred's statue was put up? Was it the reflection on some of the windows when you passed by? You wonder if you could see more colors in Blüdhaven now. Maybe you'd be able to stop at Metropolis before heading back. Maybe you'd get to see the brilliant red on Superman's diamond when you return. You start buying green trinkets when you arrive in Istanbul, bread tucked between your arms, capable of telling which parts were actually moldy and which parts just had raisins. You bite into the breadstick, entering the airbnb you stayed at.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

"Hey," You pull your water bottle from your tote bag.

"I heard you're in Turkey." Dick hums. "Well, not heard. You sent a picture."

"Yeah. What color is the building? It's starting to register." You hum, biting into the bread again. "It's also... in the bread?"

"The building was yellow." Dick hums.

"The color of dandelions." You mumble. "The color of dandelions, the color of the sun in the sky, and the undertone of some people's skin."

"Yes. The color of gold, the color of the chip brand you love so much, and the color of the lemon Lipton tea bags." Dick continues.

"Huh." You mumble. "Is it the other color that makes up green on the color wheel?"

"Yes."

"And the color of the S on Superman's diamond?"

"Yeah." Dick chuckles. "It was also the color of my cape when I was Robin."

You click on your phone, pulling up a photo. "Oh! It is."

"Yeah."

"Also the color of the bat on Batman's logo."

"Yes."

"And Duke's suit?"

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

"Yellow is mostly commonly..." You mumble. "associated with happiness?"

"To most, yes."

"How about to you?"

Dick laughs, color of your eyes spilling past his lips, smile in his voice. You can hear it in the way he speaks. You smile yourself, biting into the bread again, humming. The city starts turning off through the window, your gaze following the street lights.

"Are the street lights yellow too?"

"Yes." Dick hums. "So are lanterns."

"Can you take me to see fireflies when I return?" You turn off the lights in your room.

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

The yellow of the sun is much brighter, and the gold on top of the Dome of the Rock is breathtaking. You take a photo, sending it to Dick, noticing the blue and white on the bottom, staring in awe. The tour guide tells you to stay a distance away from it, but you stand in front of it, eyes on the gold of the dome, blinking slowly. You buy a keychain to remember it.

The rocks across the dead sea register slowly in your vision, the color unfamiliar to you. You're too shy to ask one of the other tourists what color it is, texting Dick instead, a photo of the rock. You float in the sea for the rest of the afternoon, sand in your fingers as you wait for Dick to call you. One of the other tourists convinces you to smear the sand on your face, creating a makeshift mask.

You finish showering in your hotel, noticing the missed call from Dick.

"Hey—"

"Orange." Dick cuts you off. "The color was orange."

"Like the fruit?" You raise a brow.

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

You purse your lips. "What are some orange things?"

"The fruit, a lot of flowers," Dick pauses. "The color of a sunset, goldfish, carrots."

"Is Babs' hair orange?"

"Yes, but it's referred to as red hair."

You frown. "So she's a redhead but her hair's actually orange?"

"Yeah."

You purse your lips. "Are pumpkins orange?"

"Orange is kind of a fall color." He hums. "You'll get to see it while traveling."

"I thought fall was more of an American thing?" You raise a brow, closing the light to the bathroom.

"It is, but it's equally gorgeous in other countries. Which country's next?"

"Tibet, then Japan." You hum. "Anything you want from there?"

"I'd like for you to come home quicker." Dick jests, laughing lightly.

"You should retire and come join me." You sit on the bed, kicking off your slippers. "I'm sleeping. Night, Dick."

"Night, sweetheart."

The mountains are gorgeous, colorful flags flying in the air when you visit, the head of the shrine a color that reminds you all too much of orange. You ask one of the locals what color it is, the young girl pressing an envelope into your hands, whispering a word into your ear, the same word rolling off your tongue, the girl smiling. You're dragged around her, shown a couple more places, the new color learned in Tibetan, your cheeks flushed the same color after running around so much. You return to your hotel, fingers on your keyboard, texting Dick.

He video calls you.

"Hey."

"I learned a new color." The Tibetan word rolls off your tongue, and Dick blinks at you in confusion. "I think it's red."

"The color that looks like orange?"

"A little." You grin. "Is it red?"

"Yes."

"Red is." You pause. "Red Hood's helmet?"

"Yes. Red is also the color of blood, the color—"

"Like when your eyes were red from crying." You breathe.

"Yes. That too."

You look outside your window at the rooftops. "Is red the color of roses?"

"Red roses."

You hum. "Can you bring one for me when you come pick me up?"

"Of course, darling."

"Oh, and," You grin. "I'd like a rainbow rose, so I can tell you all the colors I learned."

"Of course." Dick laughs. "Now get to bed. It's late."

"Very late." You grumble. "Night."

"Night."

The last color you learn is purple. It materializes as you stare at the wisteria of Japan, visiting the garden, staring at the flowers as you blink slowly. Purple. It's the color of Spoiler's suit, now that you think about it. It's the color of wisteria flowers, Spoiler's suit, the color of the sky as the red of the sun bleeds into the blue of the day, and the color of royalty. You buy a wisteria keychain, finally able to see everything in color on your travels. You take a final photo for your scrapbook, clicking on the website to fly straight back to Blüdhaven. You wonder if you should tell Dick about purple.

"Any new colors?" Dick hums into the phone as you yawn.

"No."

"Not purple?"

"Not really." You mumble. "The mix of blue and red, right?"

"Yes."

You blink at the wisteria keychain in hand. "I saw the wisteria flowers, but it was in grey."

"Yeah?"

You bet Dick already knows you can see purple, but neither of you say anything.

"Oh, yeah. I'm flying back next week."

"Already?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "I miss your eyes."

"Just my eyes?"

"Miss you too." You hum, glancing at the moon. "Alright, I'm sleeping."

Dick greets you at the airport by spinning you in the air, lips pressed to your cheek affectionately, adoration spilling past his eyes as he spins you around in one arm. He holds a bouquet of flowers in the other one, only setting you down when you ask for him to, kissing his cheek, grin on your face.

You've changed.

Dick hands you the roses, and you pull him to your height in excitement as you tell him the name of each color, a second language spilling past your lips for some colors. You blink at him expectantly when you finish, and Dick sighs, laughing.

"And the color of my eyes?"

"Blue, obviously." You roll your eyes playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Missed the color of your eyes."

"Yeah?" He rests his forehead on yours.

"Yeah." You grin, staring into his eyes. "Missed that blue."

"What blue is it?"

"Dick blue," You stick your tongue out at him.

"My very own shade? Like the universities?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "My favorite shade of blue."

"God, I love you." Dick whispers back, breathless, heart racing in his ears.

"I love you too." You whisper back. "Thank you for waiting."

"Always."

[f1bordeaux]

Landslide | cs55

"Even children get older, And I'm getting older too" Life moves on, pretty quickly at that. Your last night with Carlos is one that you'll both remember forever. Even years later when he fulfills his biggest wishes. Warnings: Suggestive content, heated make out sesh lol, sadness, happy/unhappy ending? Mostly unhappy Pairings: Carlos Sainz x Reader(y/n) Word Count: 4.2k Poetry style | Story style A/n: I LOVEEEEEE Landslide by fleetwood mac and the way this song hits you when you're about to move out-UGGHHHHHH I wrote the first half of this then went out, got drunk as fuck, woke up and wrote the rest of it with a hangover, so forgive me if there are any errors. Anyways, enjoy this internal dread i'm feeling turned into a FanFic. Growing up is so weird, isn't it?

I took my love, I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills 'Til the landslide brought me down

2012.

“¡Sainz joder!” He turned around to look, a smile splitting his lips. Antonio had a frying pan in his hand as the two of you ran through his kitchen. Carlos’ hand squeezed yours with so much force that you wondered if it would bruise. It didn’t hurt, though. In that moment, nothing mattered but that damn smile that Carlos carried. “¡Anda, anda!”

Finally, you reached the back door of the kitchen. Carlos used his whole body to push it open, hoping that nobody would be on the other side. Luckily, the alleyway was empty, save for an employee sitting on a bucket smoking a cigarette. Carlos kept running and you had no choice but to keep up-your hands were still intertwined after all.

Antonio ran out the door, stopping as he watched you two make your grand get away. “Bastard! I ought to tell your father! And your father too, young lady!”

It was the same threat he used every time you and Carlos cut through his kitchen. I’m going to tell your fathers that you two are devious children! He’d say. He never did, though. Antonio was a friend to both yours and Carlos’ parents. He could if he wanted to, but he didn’t. For over ten years, you and Carlos would walk into his restaurant-situated on a busy Madrid street-and slowly sneak your way into the kitchen. Sometimes, when he wasn’t there, the waiters and cooks would just let you freely pass. But, more often than not, he was there and it suddenly became an obstacle course of running past cooks, dodging frying pans and slipping between shelves. It was worth it, however. A small, secret alleyway that was blocked off by a fence from the main road laid on the other side of the restaurant.

On the left-the building that Antonio’s restaurant was in-was a fire escape. It spanned up ten stories to an abandoned rooftop bar. Over the years, Carlos would bring small objects up there. Pillows, blankets, a small folding table, a few boxes to keep the stuff safe. He had the place designed to his liking-like it was his house or something. He’d put string lights up there too, giving the space a dreamy, photogenic atmosphere. So many nights were spent underneath the abandoned bar. You’d slept there a handful of times. You’d gotten drunk for the first time there, too. That space was yours and his. It was Carlos and y/n’s spot; everyone knew it.

So, as you and Carlos climbed the fire escape, it was hard to believe this was the last time the two of you would be spending the night up there together. It made you nauseous to think about.

“Try not to look so down.” Carlos chuckled as the two of you kept climbing the stairs. He could read you like a book, obviously he saw how upset you were. “Let's enjoy tonight.”

“Easier said than done, Carlos.” He stopped suddenly, your chest running into his backpack. His hands grabbed your shoulders and he-shook you? “Carlos stop it!”

“Sorry I was just trying to get the idea that I’m leaving you out of your brain.” He said, dropping his hands.

“But you are.” You said, evoking a sigh from him. Before he could apologize-which you knew he was about to do-you shook your head. “Listen, I’m so excited for you, Carlos, but-I don’t know. Life is going to be so different without you in it.”

“I’ll still be in it, mi novia. It’s not like I’m dying.”

“But Carlos, you’d always come home to Madrid after a race. You’d always be back to see me. We would work on school work together. I’d come to your races sometimes.” You sighed, looking at the metal ground beneath you. “But I’ll be in college and you’ll be in the British Formula 3 now. That's a massive step up. And when you do come back to Madrid, I won't be here.”

He didn’t speak, not for a while. The two of you just stood there, in the Spanish heat, looking at the ground. Life would never be the same. He couldn’t say anything to deny that. Tomorrow night, he would be catching a flight to London, and at the same time, you would be catching a flight to the United States. You’d both leave behind Madrid and only ever return as guests to your hometown. Maybe your rooftop hideaway would go untouched. Maybe some new children would find it and claim it as their own. They’d find the boxes that said, Carlito&Muneca, in sharpie and wonder what those names meant. Maybe they’d sort through your things, maybe they’d turn on the string lights and gasp at how beautiful the place looked.

Being eighteen was weird. You didn’t like it too much.

“Let's go, y/n.” Carlos grabbed your hand once again, pulling you up the fire escape. Three more flights awaited you. The sunset had just begun, but the primary color in the sky was still blue. You could still hear car horns from nearby streets. The air was still warm. The two of you were still young. At least for tonight you were.

Once you reached the top Carlos stepped aside, allowing you to take in the scene.

Oh, mirror in the sky What is love?

The spot on the stage where Carlos and you normally sang and danced to his iPod Nano was now completely redecorated. There was a plush blanket, pillows, a pizza box, and those damn string lights you loved were hanging from the roof. A small card was on one of the pillows. It was, of course, addressed to you in Carlos’ fanciest writing.

Anyone would think that this was a romantic gesture. But you two were best friends. Since birth, really. Not a day went by without conversation between the two of you. Carlos was your soulmate. Of course you had crushes on him here and there-he was hot, funny, caring, charming; you could go on and on. But you never acted on it. Keeping him around was better than losing him.

“Carlos,” You cupped your mouth with your hands. It was beautiful. “When did you-Is that pizza from Antonio’s?”

Carlos laughed, amused that the first thing you pointed out was the food. “Yeah,” He said. “He’s pretty sad that he won't see us around town anymore, either.”

Your heart sank. Right. That's why this was all set up-as a final goodbye. In the few moments of excitement and shock that filled your body upon seeing all this, you had forgotten that tonight was it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Vamos, let's eat.”

That you did. Carlos and you sat at the bar and ate, watching as the sun sank lower and lower over the city skyline. Somewhere along the way, he pulled some liquor out of his backpack. You two drank and talked, reminiscing over everything the last eighteen years had brought. That one time you spent the night at his house and started a small fire in the kitchen-from then on sleepovers were at your house. That one time you two took a day trip to the beach and Carlos’ foot brushed a stingray's back. That one time you were at one of his races and a driver started hitting on you, so Carlos punched him in the jaw and got suspended for three races. That one time a wild hare was in your guest bathroom and your parents weren’t home so you called him over to help and you trapped it in your mother’s favorite cooking pot. That one time he lost a bet and went streaking through his neighborhood in the middle of winter.

The two of you were hunched over in laughter, your abdomens cramping from how hard you were laughing. Carlos wiped a tear away from his eye. “And remember Mrs. Nunez? She saw me that night and sprayed me with her garden hose!”

You sniffled. “Like why was she awake at five am? And why was she gardening?”

“Literally! I was fucking freezing. The scream that came from my mouth after that-”

You both mocked his scream at the same time, laughing even harder as you remembered the old lady’s shocked face from that night. Slowly, you both started calming down, giggling as you remembered the streaking ordeal. Carlos took a sip from his beer. You drank from your rum and Coke. It was darker now, still not pitch black, but darker. You looked up into the sky, watching as clouds rolled by.

“What am I going to do without you?” Carlos asked. You looked back down. He was staring right at you, bringing the beer bottle back up to his plush lips. “Can’t you just quit college and travel with me?”

You scoffed. “And be what? Your trophy bestfriend?”

“Trophy wife?”

You swore that your heart stopped beating. Wife? As in marriage? Obviously he wasn’t being serious, right? Carlos was a playboy. He’d had plenty of girlfriends in his lifetime. From your past observations, you weren’t his type at all. He preferred dolled up girls, ones with fake blonde hair and exquisite makeup. He preferred high heels and short, skin tight dresses. He preferred long nails and longer lashes. Synthetic beauty. You were far from that. When you put on makeup, it was simple. You dolled yourself up, yes, but everything about you was natural. From your hair color to your nail length. You were a natural beauty-something Carlos had never indulged in.

“Very funny,” You smiled as you took another drink.

“What?”

You blinked very slowly at him. “Us getting married? Sure.”

He shrugged. “Why not? You don’t love me?”

“Of course I love you, Carlito.” You tried using his nickname to deescalate the situation. “But you would never marry me.”

“Bold assumption.”

Was he drunk? Or, was he shooting his shot because tonight was it? This was quite possibly his last chance, was he taking it? Was he working you up so you’d miss him more? God, this was confusing. “Carlos-”

Before you could even say another word, he was leaning forward to kiss you. His lips were warm on yours, a side effect of the alcohol you were sure. His lips were so soft, so large, so perfect. They pulled yours in with such ease, such delicacy-almost like you were fine China. His free hand came to your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek.

He pulled away first, much to your surprise. There was about half a beer left in his bottle. He downed it before speaking again. “I’m sorry, y/n. I don’t know why I thought that was ok.”

Your teeth pulled your bottom lip in. You’d just kissed Carlos, something you only ever dreamed about.

Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?

You reached out, both palms resting on his cheeks this time, pulling him in for another kiss. Fuck it, you thought. This was a new dynamic between the two of you, but it was one that younger you would be ecstatic about.

This time, there was more hunger behind the kiss. Carlos understood this was something you wanted, and you now understood this was something he wanted. His tongue slipped between your lips, finding a home in your mouth. His hands wrapped around your neck, not applying any pressure, just applying warmth. You felt so warm, so satisfied. This was finally happening. Why couldn’t it have happened two years ago?

Carlos pulled away again, gasping for air while resting his forehead on yours. “Come here, hermosa.”

You got off your barstool and sat on his lap, your chest flush to his. The two of you resumed your makeout session, his hands roaming your back, your hands draped around his neck. You moaned into the kiss once his large fingers snuck beneath the fabric of your shirt and touched your hot skin. It was electrifying, it was new, it was so good.

You could feel the bulge in his lap pressed against your thigh. His kisses turned sloppy, his hands moved quicker, his breath grew shorter. It was obvious he was growing impatient with you sitting right there. He was hungry for you. He only wanted you.

His lips attacked your collarbone, leaving little bitemarks and wet spots across your skin. You ran your hands across his broad shoulders, leaning your head back as he created a constellation across your chest. The night air was cold, the sky was now completely dark. The string lights were off, but the glow from the city provided enough light for you to see Carlos at work. He looked so good, so handsome, so perfect.

He chuckled into your skin, the vibrations causing you to shiver. He involuntarily thrusted his hips up, grunting as he did so. You hung your head on his shoulder as he composed himself. “Wrap your legs around me when I stand up, ok?”

You could only nod, feeling gravity shift as he rose to his feet. You did as you were instructed, his arm coming to your lower back for support. Your chest was pressed so deep into his that you wondered if two humans could possibly get closer than this. You really wished your shirts were off so you could feel his skin on yours.

Softly, Carlos laid you down on the makeshift bed. It was more comfortable than you imagined it would be, but maybe your mind was too clouded with lust to be rational. You were focused on Carlos and only Carlos.

A gasp pushed past your lips, not because of anything Carlos did, but because of a loud and sudden explosion. The sky lights up in colors of reds and yellows, blues and purples, greens and oranges. Sparks quite literally fly as fireworks rip through the once still air. Carlos is beside you now, watching the sky with such intensity you wonder if he has ever seen a firework before.

“It’s Saint James Day.” He says to himself.

You’re pulling the covers up to your chest as you catch the small, toothy smile that he holds. He pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them. You’re amazed at how quickly his attention changed from you to the fireworks.

“You had no idea?” You ask. “I knew there would be fireworks but I didn’t know they’d be close enough for us to see.”

Carlos shook his head. “I didn’t know, no.” He looked back over to you, that smile still on his lips. “What a way to spend our last night in Spain.”

Your heart stops beating. It’s like he was hellbent on reminding you that this was it.

Slowly, he reached for your jaw once again, bringing you in for a kiss. It was soft, it was gentle. It was reminiscent of the first kiss the two of you shared only a few minutes ago. Never, you thought, do I want this to end. It did, however. Everything has a beginning and an end. The circle begins when you place your pen on the page and it stops when you’ve finished drawing it. The story begins at birth and appears like it ends on a rooftop in Madrid-semi naked with fireworks in the background.

The fireworks carry on for a few more minutes. They seem to illustrate photos in the sky. Carlos sees it, too. He pulls out his phone to snap a quick photo before turning it to you. This goes unnoticed, you’re too preoccupied in watching the show before you. He snaps a candid photo of your side profile. It was one he would cherish for the rest of his life, even if it was low quality and dark.

When the sky falls dark once more, the sound of cars below once again filling your ears, Carlos turns his whole body to you. “I love you, y/n.”

Can I handle the seasons of my life? Well, I've been afraid of changin' 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older

And this time, it feels different. It feels like there is a non-platonic meaning to the sentence he says everyday. Carlos has been telling you he loved you since the two of you could speak. Everytime you two say goodbye his last words are, “I love you.” Every time he’s overjoyed with you he says, “I love you.” Every gift you’ve ever given him has been opened as he says, “I love you.” Every time you run into his garage after a good or bad race he greets you with, “I love you.” You begin to wonder if you’ve missed some signs along the way-if you were too immersed in the thought that, he would never date you, to realize he’s been fighting for you all along.

He answers your question when he speaks again. “All I've ever wanted in life was you. I knew that at the end of the day, I’d be alright as long as you were there, y/n. After a bad race, you were standing there waiting for me and I realized that it isn’t the end of the world. After a bad breakup, you were there to tell me that I’m not a douchebag and I’m actually a good person. After people told me I could never make it big in racing, you stood proud as my number one fan and forced me to carry on with my head held high.”

Your throat begins to burn. This was goodbye. This was Carlos’ confession.

“I have loved you for such a long time, y/n. It’s always been you. I have always wanted you.” No. “I have never clicked so well with someone. I have never thought someone was so beautiful as you. You don’t even have to try, either! You’re just so,”

He trails off, looking straight ahead at the city. His eyes glisten. You wonder if he’s about to cry. You know you’re one more word away from crying.

“I don’t know how I'm supposed to be ok after a bad day without you there to hold me.”

That does it. You hold a hand over your mouth as tears pour down your cheeks. They’re hot, but they aren't the same warmth that Carlos radiates. They’re painfully hot, his touch was pleasantly hot. You’ll have to learn to live with one and not the other, however.

“Carlos,” You choke out. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just staring straight ahead as tears of his own trickle down his cheeks. “Oh, Carlos.”

“This sucks.” He says.

“This sucks.” You repeat.

It sucks. Saying goodbye sucks. Leaving your hometown that you love so dearly sucks. Leaving your best friend sucks. What will become of the two of you? Will Carlos still love you? Will he return to Madrid and visit with your parents? Will he be saddened to see your empty room? Will he turn to look at every girl who resembles you and hope that somehow, someway, you found him? Will you do that to every man who looks like Carlos?

He leans back, laying flat on the bed. You rest your head on his chest, his fingers coming to play with your hair. “I believe with every bone in my body that you will do amazing things, Carlos. You’ll be a world champion one day. And guess what? You’re going to do it because you are strong. It’s not going to be because I’m holding your hand, it’s going to be because of your dedication, your talent, your strength, your skill. You’ve worked for this, Carlos. And you are going to do it.”

He sniffles, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, Carlos.” You say. And maybe things will be ok, maybe they won't. But you know that Carlos will go on to do great things. You know that he's the type of boy-no-he's the type of man to accomplish whatever he puts his mind to. He’ll fight for his life in that damn race car and then step out of it and make the whole room laugh and smile. He’ll make amazing friends, ones that will occupy the space you have always resided in. He’ll be happy and feel whole. He’ll think of you from time to time. Maybe you’ll visit one another when you both are in Madrid at the same time.

“I love you, y/n.”

And I'm getting older too

2026

You haven't run this fast since high school. Somewhere in the crowd, you’ve lost your husband, but you don't care. You have a mission to accomplish, a friend to see.

“Carlos!” You shout, waving your hands like a maniac. “¡Mi hijo! Carlos!”

A hand grabs you by the bicep. “You can’t be in here!” The strange man shouts. Did you run past some barriers? Yes. Did you push some young fans? Yes. Is security worried about your intentions? Yes. But there, only a few feet away, if the new World Champion.

“Let me go! I know Carlos!” You fight the man causing another to join in on the situation. Both of your arms are restrained and they’re practically carrying you out.

“Everyone says that.” One of them says.

“Please!” You beg. It’s been over three years since Carlos and you have seen each other in person. Life dragged you two apart. You thrived in college, becoming the girl that everyone loved. You made friends quickly and made memories even quicker. Carlos thrived in racing, too. He moved his way up pretty quickly, his Formula One debut coming just three years after he left. You’d seen the Youtube videos of him and his friends, you’d heard the inside jokes, read about Carlando-you knew he was happy. But, you two weren’t as close anymore. You’d text frequently, reaching out before a big race or after a difficult one. You’d facetime, too. You both had one another on social media, and sometimes he would comment on your post or respond to a story you had up. Life was different now, however. You and him were married. He couldn’t come to your wedding, it fell on a race weekend. You couldn’t go to his. You said you had work but watching him marry another girl would stir up some pain, even if you were in a happy relationship. You didn’t frequent Madrid all too much, choosing to vacation elsewhere when the time arises. But, vacations were rare now that you were a mother. This was the first time you’d been out of town since giving birth three years ago. It was worth it.

“Carlos!” You cried out once more. He knew you were at the race-he was the one that bought you the tickets-but you wanted to see him now, not later.

The commotion caught his attention. He stared for a second, trying to understand why two men were carrying out a girl, but then he saw who it was. “Y/n!”

He dropped the conversation he was having to run over to you. The hands of strange men were replaced by those of a familiar friend. You felt warm again. You felt whole.

He swept you up in a hug, spinning you around as you squealed. “You did it! You fucking did it Carlos!”

“I know! You were right muñeca! You were right!” The nickname alone was enough to make you cry. You hadn’t been called that in years. Since the two of you were in your teens.

He dropped you, hands sliding onto your cheeks. For a brief moment, you thought he would try to kiss you. He didn’t. But your mind wandered.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” He smiled softly. “None of this would have happened without you.”

“Me?”

Carlos nodded. “I carried your words with me every day. Nobody has ever believed in me as much as you have.”

“Carlos-”

“I love you, y/n.”

The tears were back, and they fell hard. “I love you, Carlos.”

He was pulled away to go do his podium celebration. The Championship had come down to the last race of the season. Carlos beat out his competitors, however, winning not only the race, but the World Championship. And as he stood on that podium, champagne spraying through the air, fireworks began to pop in the sky. It lights up in colors of reds and yellows, blues and purples, greens and oranges.

He looks down at you, a smile splitting his lips.

It seems like the highest award to achieve, but he hopes that in another life, one hopefully close by, that he can get the one thing he desires most.

You.

Maybe in another life, you followed him. Maybe in another life you two got married. Maybe in another life you reached out more. But in this life, Carlos is a World Champion. You wouldn’t trade his excitement, his pride and his joy for anything.

[staceymcgillicuddy]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thanks to @astorytotellyourfriends for the tag - I didn't do this last year!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

If She Lived in Space, Man, I'd Build A Plane crimson & clover pulling overtime model citizen; zero discipline what you give just serves me right two jack trippers and a chrissy perception check all my kinktober fills a hollow tree

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Gosh, that's hard. I'm proud of all of them for different reasons, and I have issues with all of them for different reasons. I guess I would say "what you give just serves me right" makes me happy, and was something I had to push myself to do, but I was pleased with how it turned out in the end.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate that I have two fics out that I haven't updated in ages! I am not proud of that! And there are a few things in all of them that I'd tweak.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh golly. Alright, from a hollow tree, which was my Halloween fic featuring Lilith!succubus!Chrissy:

Fog slips into the van when he opens the door. A mist so thick it’s disorienting as he drops to the ground, and the shape of a girl forms itself out of the gloom.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Almost every single regular commenter on Soul makes my heart sing and my panties drop, and I'm so sorry my brain is being stupid right now.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Right goddamn now. It's like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, and I have no idea why, but everything comes out strained and blechy and I hate it, and I refuse to inflict it on anyone else so I'll just sit like a lump, churning out crap and never showing it to anyone.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Genuinely did not think that I would get so into the Hopper/Chrissy/Eddie dynamic as I did when I wrote it as a crackship as part of kinktober. But, like, I could get DOWN with that shit.

Also, Hellcheerington surprised me. Oh, and writing Eddie's dad for Soul was weirdly cathartic? I was determined to make him a person and not a collection of cliches, which was easier said than done. I think I got there, in the end. Hope so, anyway!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I didn't, I fucking regressed. Or, no, not really. I pushed myself a bit, tried to get sharper and cleaner with some prose. Read some theory books, worked on my rhetorical devices, forced myself to kill a couple darlings along the way (but not all the darlings, god damn it).

I also published a book, so yay?

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to get back to writing original fiction. I've been in a slump with that, too, because it doesn't have the instantaneous feedback that fanfic does. I want to split my time between fic and pro writing stuff, and I want to be very realistic about how much mental energy my real job takes up. When I used to write like a madwoman, I didn't have the role I currently do, which is a senior project manager leading a team, working mostly with executive-level staff. Don't get me wrong, my job pisses me off a lot, and stresses me out, too, but it pays well and we live in a shithole of a society where money matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, like, I guess I hope to grow as a writer in writing even when my brain doesn't want me to, or it doesn't feel great to do so.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Freaking Shirley Jackson, man. That bitch can write.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm always putting kinky shit I see or experience at the bdsm club into my fic. I am as God made me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Everything is made up and the points don't matter. Stop comparing yourself to other authors. Turn off stats on your AO3. Write what you fucking want and quit worrying if other people are going to like it.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm going to be so, so glad when Soul is done because I love it so much but it is also the millstone around my neck.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@binickandros, @pipergirl17 and @phoenixwrites please!

[kelseytheballerina]

Based on your blog I'm sure you've been asked this a million times, but do you have any practical advice for bettering yourself when you're starting at a really low point?

I've always WANTED to be better but I never follow through. I don't do anything impressive (I get up, go to work for 8 hours, come home, rest and try to recover from the day, sleep, repeat) but I'm so exhausted all the time anyway that adding extra effort to my routine feels impossible. In my free time I do basically nothing, I don't really enjoy anything except sleeping and I usually feel brain-dead tbh. I hate myself but even when I try to use that as motivation I flop every time.

I see all these people who do so much all the time and I want to be like you, but I can't imagine being able to do it. Where does your discipline come from and how do you maintain it when it's so difficult?

Keep in mind that the more you do, the more time it requires of you. Definitely don’t compare yourself to unemployed people like me or those who make a living being productive for social media. You work 8 hours, not to mention the commute, not to mention getting dressed and undressed, not to mention feeding yourself and taking care of all the things required to keep the house running and lights on. Add in dating, family, friends, grief, hard times, yeah it’s understandable why you are exhausted. You may see others in the same boat as you who also manage to muster up the energy to work on a degree and take care of their kids but not everyone can do the same things. We all have our limits. Our limits may change over time, but as of now your limit isn’t theirs and that’s okay.

What I think would be best is to not attempt to overload yourself if you don’t have to. Pick literally just one thing to put your remaining energy into for the time being. Let’s say that’s hitting the gym. Make that your thing for a while and ignore other stuff. Who knows, 6 months from now you may find that you can also squeeze in a cooking class once a week.

Obviously I’m someone who loves productivity and trying to maximize the days with all things learning and skill building. But I don’t think that everyone needs to live like that. Take care of your responsibilities first and have even just one thing on the side. You’ll feel better about yourself and you won’t be forcing yourself to be the biggest productivity slave. Bc if you aren’t even enjoying it, then what’s the point?

As for where my discipline comes from, I’d say that my mom instilled good habits in me when I was young (no tv until xyz is done, if you do it wrong I’ll wake you up and make you redo it so you might as well do it properly the first time, do these things bc you deserve to look good/live in a nice environment/reach your potential instead of just bc you “have to”) but also bc I went though a phase of uncertainty and unstructured living that made my life very difficult and I felt no pride in the way I was conducting myself, so I made changes to never feel that way again. I’ve seen what life is like when I don’t ‘parent’ myself and instead just run amuck and it’s not fulfilling, it’s not high quality, it’s not a life I am in love with. So in order to avoid that, I do the work and I absolutely positively love the results. That’s a priceless feeling.

[thedemonprincezephyr]

A fragile Harmony

Morning light pierced through the blinds, cutting into my room with surgical precision. I groaned, kicking at the twisted sheets tangled around my legs. The mess of clothes scattered on the floor, the empty cans and coffee-stained mugs on my desk—it all felt like an extension of the chaos in my mind. If my life were a thesis, this room would be my supporting argument. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or scream about that.

Sam was still sprawled out on the couch, sleeping like the world hadn’t been crumbling under our feet. His steady breathing contrasted painfully with my own shallow gasps. I found myself watching him, trying to mirror his rhythm, but my brain had other plans. Peace didn’t come that easily—it was like trying to hold water in my hands. Every breath felt like a battle.

|Do you truly think you deserve this moment, P3AsAnT?|

The Void’s voice oozed into my consciousness, cold and viscous, filling every crack I’d desperately tried to seal. My fists clenched, and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I could trap it inside and crush it. Not now. Not when Sam was here. Not when I was trying so damn hard to act normal.

In the kitchen, I poured stale coffee into a chipped mug. The dark liquid reflected my distorted face back at me, a silent reminder of how fractured I felt. The fridge hummed in the background, an ambient noise that somehow made the silence louder. I drank the coffee anyway, ignoring the bitter taste. Functionality trumped flavor. I needed something to keep me grounded, even if it was burnt and disappointing.

Sam shuffled in, hair an explosion of bedhead that made him look impossibly soft. He yawned, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale stomach. My heart betrayed me, thudding in a way that had nothing to do with the caffeine. He was so effortlessly himself, while I felt like a patchwork mess stitched together with frayed thread.

“You’re up early,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

I shrugged, my gaze fixed on the mug in my hands. “Couldn’t sleep.”

His expression softened, and I hated the concern in his eyes. It was the kind of look that made me want to both fall into his arms and push him away. “Is it… that stuff again?”

I nodded, taking another sip of coffee to avoid his gaze. What could I even say? That the lines between reality and whatever else was out there were blurring? That the shadows in my head were starting to spill into the world around me? Sam wouldn’t leave, though. That was the problem. He stayed, no matter how much I felt like a black hole pulling him in. I didn’t know if I could survive without him—and that terrified me.

---

Later, Cas met us at a diner. The smell of burnt grease and stale coffee permeated the air, clinging to the vinyl seats and sticky tabletops. I slid into the booth with a reluctant squeak, already regretting my decision to show up. Cas stirred their milkshake with the kind of deliberate slowness that meant they were gearing up for something.

“Alright,” Cas finally said, setting the glass down and leaning forward. “What’s going on with you, Levi? You’ve been acting… off.”

Sam’s gaze turned sharp, pinning me in place. It was the same look he’d given me in high school, the day he’d stepped between me and those guys who thought it would be fun to shove me into lockers. That mix of quiet anger and fierce loyalty. It made my stomach churn and my throat tighten.

“I…” My throat tightened, the words snagging like thorns. “I’ve been… seeing things. Feeling things. Like something’s out there, watching me. And… it’s not just in my head.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, their lips pursed, but they didn’t interrupt. Sam leaned closer, his presence steadying me even as it made my heart race.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low and encouraging.

I took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “The other day, after work… everything felt wrong. The streetlights stretched and shrank. The sun went black. It was like reality was… unraveling.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “And my house… it was covered in shadows, like it was alive.”

Sam reached across the table, his hand finding mine. His touch was warm, grounding. “You’re not crazy,” he said firmly. “I believe you.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that belief wouldn’t change anything. But his hand tightened around mine, and for a moment, the suffocating weight on my chest lifted. I clung to that fleeting sense of relief, wishing I could bottle it for the nights when everything felt unbearable.

---

That night, the Void returned, whispering in my mind like a song I couldn’t turn off.

|Do you think he would stay if he knew your truth?|

I curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow to my chest like it could shield me from the voice. Sam had gone home, despite my quiet pleas for him to stay. “You’ve got to sleep sometime,” he’d said with a lopsided grin that made my chest ache. He made it seem so simple, so easy—like the world wasn’t constantly caving in on itself.

Music usually helped, but even my guitar felt foreign in my hands. I strummed a few chords, but they clashed, dissonant and wrong. The Void laughed, the sound curling through my mind like smoke.

|You’re wasting your potential, P3AsAnT. You could be so much more.|

“Shut up,” I muttered, my voice breaking. The room seemed to darken, shadows stretching and twisting until they consumed the light. My reflection in the window smirked back at me, its eyes two bottomless pits.

|I can make you great. I can give you purpose.|

The guitar slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud. I sank to my knees, clutching my head as the Void’s presence wrapped around me like a suffocating fog. It wasn’t just in my mind anymore. It was everywhere.

|You cannot escape me. I am your shadow. Your truth. Your destiny.|

Hours later, Sam called. His voice cut through the haze, sharp and unwavering.

“I’m coming over,” he said, not waiting for me to argue.

When he arrived, he didn’t ask questions. He just pulled me into a hug, his arms strong and steady, and I melted into him. Tears slipped down my face, soaking into his hoodie. He smelled like mint gum and cheap cologne, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he murmured, his voice a steady anchor. “Levi… I care about you. More than I can say.”

My breath hitched, the words caught in my throat. “I… I think I…” The sentence hung there, unfinished, but Sam didn’t pull away. Instead, he held me tighter, his warmth chasing away the lingering shadows.

We ended up on the couch, tangled together in a way that felt too close to be accidental. His hand rested on my back, tracing lazy circles that sent a faint buzz through my skin. For the first time in what felt like forever, the Void was silent. And for the first time, I let myself hope that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t beyond saving.

||||A/N hey guys after a long time I wanna continue writing this and making it a fully fledged out story, this part is a big step in that direction. I will be rewriting the first few parts a little just to tweak 'em but maybe one day I'll post this where it can get more attention :) if anyone finds this page and reads through the story, thank you so much, plz share if you enjoy 🖤🩵🖤✌🏼🫰🏻 peace and love

Also this is the start of my second media tie in with what Levi had created to signify what he's going through

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3EMVwfSk5DY1jbdt1UQGk8?si=d5upx3RQRk6SwzWdQZroJQ

[daintyduck99]

"is he cute? i bet he's cute let me see-" for Reggie and Alex, any pairing

It takes everything in Alex not to react when his phone dings.

Reggie notices, anyway, stopping in the middle of his ramble and pushing his plate of waffles away. He leans across the table.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Alex says airily. Too airily, if the way his voice and Reggie's eyebrows climb are any indication.

"That's not nothing. You almost always have your notifications muted."

Alex slides back further into the booth, cradling his phone protectively as Reggie inches closer. He stabs his stack of pancakes and stuffs a bite of strawberry into his mouth in lieu of responding.

"Come on, 'Lex, tell me! Is it a guy?"

He chews slowly. "...I let important notifications through. That's not unusual, okay? This project makes up a lot of our grade—"

"I knew it!" Reggie crows, earning him a dirty look from a waitress. Not that he notices. "Our means that you care about their grade, and you care about them. It is a guy, isn't it? A really cool one that you can't stop thinking about."

Alex sighs. Reggie knows him too well.

"It might be…a guy. There's no point in voicing any sort of hopes about him because they're only bound to get crushed, which is why I didn't tell you. We're strictly project partners, Reg."

"What makes you think that?" Reggie asks, frowning. "You're awesome, Alex. Is he already dating someone or something?"

Alex pushes a few more strawberries listlessly around his plate.

"I think so? I mean, he's always going on about the guys at some club. It sounds like he has the time of his life there, with them, and I know you think I'm awesome, Reggie, but I'm not that…I don't know, wild? How could I ever keep up?"

Reggie’s face does that thing where it soothes out, except for his mouth, which scrunches into a little o. He brightens as he snaps out of it, eyes lighting on Alex's.

"But you don't know that they're together, right? Maybe they're just good friends! That's why Luke and Julie didn't ask me out for ages, remember? They'd assumed that you were my boyfriend."

"That's…true," Alex admits, smiling faintly in spite of himself as Reggie beams. "Okay, yeah, maybe I shouldn't be so quick to assume. The way I feel about this guy…it's just scary. I barely know him, Reg, but I like him so much. It’s going to hurt like hell if he rejects me."

Reggie takes his hand, netting them another glare from a different waitress. Alex glares back until she looks away. Reggie, meanwhile, has remained blissfully unaware, intently focused on Alex.

"I'll be there for you no matter what, buddy, but you shouldn't quit before you've even played the game. Alright? At least own your awesomeness for once! If this guy doesn't see it, someone will. Sometimes you've just gotta put yourself out there."

Alex swallows. He squeezes Reggie’s hand.

"Thanks, Reg. But also…if he says no, won't that make our whole project…awkward?"

Reggie shrugs. "That's college for you. Aren't most of the group projects shitty?"

He has to concede that point as well. He's more or less worn down, and he promises to at least think about asking him out.

Reggie almost lets it go after that, but when Alex's phone dings again, he gets a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know, there's still so much you haven't told me about this guy. I know your type, but like, what's his name? What does he do? Is he cute?"

"His name is Willie. He's doing something with art, theater is his minor. And like, objectively speaking, he's…well…"

Reggie smirks. "'Lex, it's a simple question. Is he cute? Just say so."

Alex stammers as a hot flush sweeps over his skin. He can't help it; Willie's hard to describe. Or maybe he's so fucking attractive that it melts Alex's brain.

"I bet he's cute, let me see—"

Reggie lunges for Alex's phone, crowing again as he manages to pry it from his hand. He unlocks it and whistles.

"Damn Alex, forget cute. This guy is smoking hot."

He shows Alex the Whatsapp profile picture as if it's not burned into his brain.

Willie's grinning in it, long dark hair whipping in the wind as he balances on a skateboard on what looks like a precarious rail. Those jeans definitely do nothing to hide how…muscular his legs are, especially with the…artfully placed rips. The white hoodie softens it all somehow, but it only screams that he's also cuddly, which makes him even more attractive.

It's absolutely maddening.

And it pales in comparison to the real thing. Willie is possibly the most vivacious person Alex has ever met.

"Yeah," Alex manages to croak. "He is."

Reggie flips his phone back around with a little hum before Alex can protest.

"Alex! He's flirting with you!"

"Okay, but that doesn't have to mean—"

"Alex."

He throws his hands up, and thankfully not out, or he would've hit a waiter. They really need to leave before they get banned from the best diner near campus.

"Some people are just flirtatious! You flirt with me all of the time!"

Reggie just gives him a sunny grin and a wink. "There's a difference between flirting for fun and flirting with intent, babe. If he's not doing the latter, I'll eat my boot."

"You might have to, anyway," Alex mutters, huffing at Reggie’s oblivious little what.

They don't get banned, if only because Alex pays and drags him out at what Luke calls his runway speed, so there's that.

But if his anxiety is totally off about the other things…well, he's not exactly mad about it, although he does have to laugh when Willie asks to meet him at the diner for one of their first dates.

[flowerslut]

Popped on to wish you a speedy and healthy recovery from your procedures 🖤

Also, thank you for updating Roots, and I hope it’s because you wanted to and not because you felt you had to. Please put yourself first right now 🖤

But since you updated…I wanted to say on first read this is my instinctive raw gut reaction without analysis…I was loving you having Jasper come back to himself so much…when he first recognises Edward, then when he sees Emmett - the burst of rage and regret and guilt he has! Remembering Alice, running to check on her… until a certain someone snapped him back into his automatic response and the thought he had….makes me feel sick. But I know he wouldn’t do that to Alice, and you mentioned something in your tags about infidelity not being a tag..

(I also hope Alice didn’t see that particular vision with her fragile state right now, would not be helpful for her)

I’m really hoping you let him come back to himself soon and see Alice even though it’ll rip our poor troubled Jasper’s heart out at seeing her like that/knowing what was done to her 💔

My heart is breaking for Rosalie!

And being the Peter/(Charlotte RIP) stan I am, I kind of lowkey love the fact he was stinking of venom and rot because that screams to me that he carried and held Alice all the way back home and we love that for his character 🖤

tldr; take care of yourself and Roots is better than the entire plot of The Twilight Saga altogether, sending positive vibes and all the Jalice love 🖤

Clara x

(PS, I may be back with a more in depth analysis once I’ve reread this chapter after some sleep after a 12 hour working day)

thank you so much!!!! I'm feeling better every day and I'm in good spirits so that's a huge plus!! and omfg lmfaooo don't worry!! every single time I've worked hard to squeeze in a roots update is because I'm fucking feral about this story and I LOVE thinking about it and posting it and talking about it etc etc!! 🥰 for as obsessed with roots as everyone says they are, just know that I'm over here also feeling the same stuff!!! sure there's a sense of obligation there since I like posting regular updates but it's 10000% percent because I love! to write!!! and I love! the fics!! I write!!!!

gonna reply to the rest under a cut bc of spoilers! ♡

don't worry, if jasper's disorientation/current mental state is making you feel sick or nervous or anxious then that means my job here is done 💀 this poor man is still trying to mesh the good (his current life) with the bad (his past life) in his brain and it's causing a full fracture to happen. we (jalice stans) often talk a lot about jasper's trauma because it's a really interesting subject to dive into, but being able to write and explore a traumatized character going through psychosis has always been something I like to explore in fanfic and with characters I like (who are all very traumatized individuals. hm. wonder what that says about me 💀)

anyways you'll have a better idea of what alice is and isn't seeing two chapters from now! but don't worry, I will give you one assurance and say that this past chapter (48) is as disoriented as jasper gets in the fic. he starts clearing up more little by little as the story progresses. unfortunately, I can't say the same about alice

and poor rosalie oh my godddd :( I think that whumping emmett (or renesmee, if we're being real here) is probably the best way to get rosalie to break down. and rosalie is interesting because she's so quick to anger. but when there's no immediate target for that anger, and when the person she loves more than anything is in such a state, you can only imagine what she's going through right now. (which is why edward's current job is keeping rosalie from trying to fight maria because she badly needs something to tear into) you definitely get a little more peter & alice content in the next alice chapter, but not a wild amount. peter's main job right now is 'keep alice alive' and if that means having to begrudgingly follow maria's orders...well, he'll do it, but he won't like it...

thank you again for always being so sweet!! I'm so happy you and other people love this story so much! it feels so good to have a fic that I was insane about for a year straight finally infect my readers in the same way that it did me 💀 I can't wait for you guys to have the full thing by the end of the year!!!!!!! thanks again! ♡

[psalm22-6]

This review of the 1935 Les Miserables staring Fredric March and Charles Laughton comes to you hot of the presses of the La Habra Star. La Habra had a population of 2,000 and a couple hundred around this time. Anyways the column in question is Jazzers which seems to have printed jokes and fun facts mostly and really whatever the author wanted. So one week he printed a review of Les Miserables and apparently no one cared so he considered quitting.  12 July 1935:

NEW JOKE: (I get this from an eastern paper so don't blame me.) Two worms were at work in dead earnest. Poor Ernest. *** BRAIN TEASER: (Still following the trail of the little animals). On a post six feet high is a worm which crawls up two feet every day and slips back one foot every night. How many days will it take it to reach the top? *** I SELDOM WRITE a movie review, for reasons too numerous to mention, but I am taking a shot (that's good film language and not slang) at Twentieth Century's production of Les Miserables  — a picture unique in several ways. It is no small job to condense so lengthy a story and carry the main thread through even a long film, but it was done in pretty good fashion, on the whole.   Les Miserables in the film lives up to its name, for most of the folks in it are miserable most of the time. And that's one of the ways in which it is unique as a movie. It is six or seven thousand feet of sorrow, sadness and trouble, without a single foot of what the writers call “comedy relief." There isn't a belly laugh in it — or any other kind. It is practically impossible even to squeeze out a smile. In this the producers have acted with unusual restraint. As a rule they force in some funny stuff because they think the audience will insist on it, no matter how out of place it may be. 

No brains are necessary to understand what the story is about. This of course is not out of the ordinary. The action is simple and direct, as were the actions of people in the days when Vic Hugo's characters were living. The misery of the poor and criminal classes was taken for granted, and instead of reaching for graft and blackmail the police inspectors committed suicide when they failed in their duty. Nowadays we coddle the former and condone the latter, all on the ground that it is up to everybody to get what he can while the getting is good. This of course takes more brains. 

But the scenarists made a long story short, and so must I. Les Miserables is a film among films in that it has two leading men and no heroine. At least it is entirely outside the rule to make a heroine of a character which appears in only part of the story. Hence the females in this story must be ruled out, except to note that so far as they have parts they are well done. But the two leading men are there all the time — and how! It is hard to choose between Frederic March as Jean Valjean and Charles Laughton as the cop who exemplifies the inexorable majesty of the law — as it then was. Both really are actors, and not just movie stars That two could be teamed up in one film without getting in each other’s way is a real achievement. 

In the matter of general setting not many stories have been better filmed than Les Miserables. I never saw a convict galley nor a French home, but in this picture they appear as they do in my imagination. The scenes in the sewers of Paris are so realistic you can smell them

It is not likely that many people care for the type of movie which Les Miserables makes but those who have read  — and reread —  this immortal story by Victor Hugo will not want to miss it. It certainly is not entertainment in the usual sense. There isn't a fan dance nor a Mammy song in it but for high class acting and stark realism It is hard to beat.

Yet it would be a great thing if everybody could see this picture and carry home from it the one important truth — Life is to give, not to take. There is just one serious criticism I have of this film — and it goes for a good many others. I can’t see the sense in the “incidental music,” the off-stage strains which are supposed to heighten the dramatic intensity and hop up the feelings of the audience. If little Nell is sobbing her way down a country road through a snow storm it doesn't seem fitting to me that the Biltmore orchestra should be heard playing in the near distance, and when Jean Valjean sloshed his way through the muck of the sewers I am practically certain the strains of the cathedral organ were not within hearing. It's about as sensible as salting a pretzel.

Amazing. Most people love salted pretzels. I have never heard that complaint of a movie before but it’s fascinating.  19 July 1935

NEVER HEARD A YIP about my movie review of Les Miserables last week. It was a new stunt for this col'm and I listened carefuly for any reverberating echoes from it. Must be everybody would rather have the dope from Liberty. RESPONSES to anything appearing here are not frequent unless I pan something or make a crack that sounds a little profane. Then I get jumped on. Whenever I say something nice, no comeback. Maybe that's the reason I distribute more kicks than kisses.

I understand the frustration of creating content and getting zero response 26 July 1935

LA HABRA STAR WILL SUSPEND PUBLICATION

This Week’s Issue Will Be Last for Local Paper Suppose the above headline was at the top of a news column instead of where it is? Suppose it were actually true, instead of being a "Jazzer?" Would it make any difference to you or to the community? I confess that to me the question is sometimes an interesting subject for thought. Have you ever given it any consideration? Probably not. The tendency is to take a newspaper for granted. The same as a great many other things. We accept the fact that they are here as being proof that they will always be here. 

I am not going into the subject any further. I am not going to argue the case. I just wonder sometimes how many really care, but I mention the matter in this way at this time in the hope that it may stir up a little thought and consideration. That's all. 

ALONG THIS LINE I would like to report the interest with which I received a few reactions to remarks made last week about that “movie review” of Les Miserables, I heard nothing about it until I said I had heard nothing. Then I heard from several. Sure, I know — we often think about handing out a bouquet but just forget to do it. l NO REACTIONS either from the brain teaser offered the same week about the worm which started crawling up a post six feet high, going up two feet every day and slipping hack one foot every night. The answer is it will take him five days to reach the top.

[murdockbuckley]

You reblogged me so here’s some random numbers (answer what you can because I don’t have time to stop and read them this second so I’m sorry!):

3, 18, 29, 36, 49, 60, 7

:)

3. do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

generally i'd say i keep them to myself, mainly because i don't really have anyone to share them with. i absolutely post snippets and talk about them on here. but like in terms of actually sharing the plots/storyline for any of them i tend to keep to myself.

7. post a snippet of a wip. (i figured this was meant to be seventy-something but i wasn't sure)

Inserting his key and opening Bucks door Eddie stops Chris from entering, overhearing *Bucks daughter* ask Buck a question.  “Does mommy not love me anymore? Is that why I had to come and live with you?”  She's sitting on the couch, her fluffy blanket with kangaroos printed on it is wrapped around her so only her face is showing. Buck is kneeling infront of her, he would've looked less pained if someone stabbed him through the heart with a dagger. There's a children show Eddie vaguely recognises playing on the TV behind buck. “Oh no my little star.” Buck crouched to his daughter’s level as he choked back tears, heart aching over the fact his little girl feels even an ounce of the pain he grew up with. “Mommy loves you so much, she just got scared. Your Grandma was helping her so much and when she died Mommy felt like she was doing everything wrong. She’s just really sad so her brain is playing tricks on her, telling her she isn’t very good at being a parent. But she’s going to get help. And she loves you so much sweetpea.”  *his daughter* is looking at him with her mother’s big round eyes, and Buck knows that he would do anything to protect her, just like he would for Christopher.  He clears his throat to avoid his tears spilling over, “And when Mommy is better, she’ll be here straight away to see you again. I- If that’s what you would want.”  Without warning, or an answer, she slams straight into Buck. Her tiny arms wrapping around him as much as they can, squeezing impossibly tight for a six year-old. Buck just reposition's them to avoid falling as he holds her even tighter, the tears he tried so hard to keep at bay silently falling. Buck presses a gentle kiss to the top of *his daughter's* head as Eddie feels a tug on his hand. Chris looks up to Eddie in the doorway, a new understanding in his eyes. “Is that why you and Mom left at different times? Because you were both scared and sad at different times?”  Eddie doesn’t know what he did in his life to deserve a son like the one he was gifted with, “Yeah Superman, and I’m so sorry that we both left you. I know your Mom was so sorry and trying so hard to make it up to you before she died.”  Now it was Christopher’s turn to hug his Dad. “It’s okay. I forgave you both a long time ago. Just… Please don’t leave again? You or Buck, I’ll be really sad and plus we have Roo now too.”

18. do you enjoy research? which fic of yours required the most research?

i do!! i love doing research in general anyways so doing it for my fics just gives me a reason for it and stuff to actually look up rather than something random. i would probably say tainted thoughts has had the most research put into so far (this one is basically finished and will be published around valentines day!!) but i know the wip that i just wrote a quick outline for today will require a lot of research

29. what's something about your writing that you're proud of?

probably that i'm including my poetry in some of it?? i've had a lot of the poems written for ages but have been scared to share them with anyone, so actually putting them out for people to see is scary but i'm happy that i finally did it

36. what fic are you proudest of?

loneliness is the first one i've published so im really proud of that, it's almost like my baby and then i'm proud of my girldad!buck fic, it's the first multi-chapter fic i've written and the progress i'm making with it is really good

49. what fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

i only have one published fic right now so i feel like i have to say loneliness

60. in letters to our soldier, what inspired the idea for the plot?

(had to pick my own one because i relaise i haven't shared the title to any of my wips)

i had read all of the teacher!buck/eddie fics i could find and then my tiktok kept showing me soldier talking about receiving letters from schools whilst they were deployed and how it made them feel. so my brain just went "wait! eddie was a soldier i bet he would have loved it if he got letter from random school kids... CHRIS IS a school child what if by some chance miracle it was chris' class that sent the letters." and because i'm incapable of writing a fic without buck i decided to add the extra drama and make buck chris' teacher.

fanfiction ask game

[tentajack]

This week on Tentajack Z

It's been a while since I've posted about my life stuff

-I'm currently decompressing all the stress from the holidays due to my job, which has left me in what I can only call my 'brain dead' mode while I try to get my shit together again. I'm not doing this shit again next fall/winter so I need to find a better job in the next few months, I WON'T stay where I'm currently working

-Confirmed I'm running the CYOA I've been talking about sometime in the next two weeks, no matter if I don't have everything done (At this point it's just character portraits as I'm swearing off all backgrounds/environmental art except for the opening bathroom scene and a shot of the entire front of the hotel building, and I still need to make those too.) If I don't get it done in time, then tough shit I'm going forward anyways!

-I've only made a few mentions of it on this blog, but the cyoa will be run on 4chan over on /mlp/. I know not everyone is comfortable with that, but this style of cyoa requires all submissions to be anonymous, and the only other viable place that lets me do that is tgchan (Tempted to run there sometimes but I would need to lurk there first to get a feel for it). That said, getting people from over here means some of the dumber anons won't be the majority of responses, so I do invite everyone to give it a try once it's live.

-I had a strange dream series last night, first it was minecraft (did you know I've never played with somebody? Only solo? It's so lonely), then it turned into a strange mix of pokemon and MMBN while taking place in a smoothed over version of the minecraft environment I was in? There was much rollerskating involved and it was so cool. Then it all melted away into a little house in a sky-like void with a pool where the deeper end had algae but I was just chilling and having a fantastic time with the dream people there. I miss people.

-I had like 2 fanfic WIPs I was working on up until all my energy got squeezed out of me by my job, I feel really bad about not finishing them but if I don't work on this CYOA project I'm going to scream

-I still don't have a date for the release of the zine I made an entry for, and while it's nobodys fault (If you're reading this bezka I'm not mad at you at all, I'm just frustrated with the circumstances), I did learn a very hard lesson about tying project start dates to the end dates of other projects; something about my ADHD made it very hard to backpedal from the 'no working on anything else just in case they need you' mindset I made for myself.

-I crave death so badly, but I want to live! whenever or not I can is an entirely different question. I'm going to need to get all my doctor stuff set up like I've been meaning to do for months now

[armchairaleck]

Sadly for me I have come to the end of my writing ideas for one shot stories which means I am now faced with the unpalatable dilemma of trying to actually write and finish one of my long fic ideas, and this level of commitment fills with me with existential dread.. well actually I think other shit does that and I write to try and forget the yawning chasm that opens up beneath me, but oh well, never mind eh…

I currently have four multi-chapter WIP ideas all of which exist in various degrees of very unfinished states on my hard drive, none of which I’m certain I can complete, but even so, I will outline them below, I will ponder them, I will be totally open to any suggestions that probably no one has..

Viren Origin Fic

Okay so my TDP original idea was always to write Viren’s background and relationship with Harrow from around age 13/14 right up to the start of the show... the main problem with this is - all the known cannon stuff seems to squeeze everything into about 8-10 years in the middle, while leaving the decades on either side of his marriage up until the magma titan debacle like a blank void of stuff I would have to make up and get totally wrong - due to my blinkers with Viren, my desire to make the world a lot darker than it’s probably supposed to be, and my unshakable belief that Harrow and Viren’s friendship becomes a twisted and suffocating vine that sucks them both into the pit of their own poor moral morasses.. but is also all they have.. and it’s sad..

So the plus side of this - I just really kinda love to explore the Viren/Harrow, Viren & Kpp’Ar, Viren/Lissa relationships, along with Sarai… I also love the slow descent of Viren from carefree boy, to loving dad to errr… not loving dad?

Down side – I could start writing this and find it is totally blown out of the water by the new cannon that will appear this summer and that often derails me, because while I am absolutely able to misread a character and their motivations and level of evil intent, like a fucking pony prancing around a field on a spring day.. I can get oddly OCD about additions to story cannon that mean this could very easily get destroyed and then I would have utterly wasted my time… also there are A LOT of missing pieces to fill in..

Viravos dead souls fic

Urgh, following on from this.. I also thought I could round it off with some vaguely cannon Viren/Aaravos.. um.. two years dead lost souls fic.. that could also be a stand alone. So for some reason my brain did not go down the horny Aaravos emerging from the cocoon s3/s4 gap fic, that people might actually want to read, and instead went to the hey.. what if Aaravos had to give the traumatised soul of Viren two years of therapy, in space, while his body lies on earth stitched in stasis.. anyway, it’s basically a lot of moping and angst between a middle aged man regretting all his life choices and a near eternal elf who has been irreversibly psychologically damaged by 300 years of solitary confinement.. fun times? This is not.. I also want to give them an unrealistic level of softness here because I'm pretty sure Viren will get no happy ending and I want him to have something.. I’m a sap and I have to just deal with this sad fact..

The plus side of this - I guess.. oh.. I don’t even know if there is a plus side.. people might want to read it? Until they discover that for an E rated fic it will really offer them nothing at all.. just slightly traumatised bad sex.. well, haha, that’s all my E rated fic to be fair…

Downside - I cannot really write Viravos to save my life.. meh..

Viren/Kpp’Ar Gothic AU

Alright, I switched this to gothic for more historical leeway and more opportunities for brooding, crazy mansions, resurrection and ghosts in the attic.. anyway.. this is a time when humans have fucked the world up even more fully, when they have destroyed nearly all magical components and dark mages are a dying breed of unhinged self-destructive maniacs that make Jack Parsons look sane.. I have a vague outline for this stitched out that I will probably expound upon in a different post, it’s pretty dumb and deranged and exists mostly so I can write some Viren and Kpp’Ar together..

Plus side of this – I mean despite the fact I’m patchy on the historical details I do love me a bit of gothic - brusque anti-social Kpp’Ar energy, mixed with Viren channelling his inner hysterical lady vibes… (just kidding olden days hysterical girls with smelling salts, you could never be as overwrought as Viren gets in front of a mirror..)

Minus side – this is literally as ridiculous as it sounds, there would be A LOT of plot I would have to write to fill inbetween the main beats, and I would probably have to do a lot of research.. watching old black and white horror films and reading the first 100 pages of gothic novels that I’ll simply forget to finish.. sigh.. okay maybe I’ll do the research and forget the writing..

Cyberpunk AU

Welp.. despite the last one, this is probably the most insane of all my ideas and exists solely because I wanted to ship Viren with Ibis… What? Why did I want to do this? I have literally no idea, except that often for some reason my brain will think.. oh.. I wonder what would happen if those two completely incompatible characters that have no way to actually get together in cannon met up and had a fuckin ridiculous and unlikely relationship that literally no one else in the whole world would care about?

So despite the fact that I know I don’t have a quarter of the world building chops necessary to actually write this, I have thought about it quite a lot..

Dumb things this AU contains:

A physical border between human kingdoms and Xadia where armies are constantly lined up in a don’t blink first cold war scenario…

An online version of the breach that separates the shitty human commodore 64 8-bit level of technology from the apple mac in 100 years sleek levels of advancement the Xadians have achieved..

That humans, god bless their ingenuity, have discovered a way to hook into, in order to try and steal the technology of the five nexus powers and boost themselves out of the depressing state of their own existence..

Defection from Xadia to the human kingdoms by various elves who have grown tired of the 1984 levels of state surveillance imposed on them by the dragons.. and who now work with the humans as primal jumpers, i.e. those who can get into the breach naturally..

Dark jumpers, who are social pariahs with both humans and elves and destroy everything they touch.. as per cannon..

Zero magic in the human kingdoms because they’re so awful of course they’ve destroyed it all, they rely on the dirt and smog of fossil fuels, while Xadia is renewable and magical all the way, but also under the grip of dictatorial state control.. seems like you just can’t have it all eh..

Just the whisper of Aarovos existing out there somewhere in the online breach like Jeff Bridges in Tron Legacy…

Weird pseudo sex pollen stuff that I would really have to remove to stop a decent into pure insanity..

Um.. drugs.. this is cyberpunk and the ONLY cyberpunk type stuff I have read is either by Philip K Dick or is Neuromancer… which means I figure cyber punk just has to involve a heinous amount of drug taking, which is probably inappropriate for a kids cartoon fic..

Alright, this makes total sense in my head but I am aware that trying to write it down makes it sound pretty nuts..

Plus sides – none?

Minus sides – I think those have all be listed above… so I should probably leave this here…

Alright, that's all I have thought about, which is probably for the best..

Honestly I do not know what to do here, maybe work on everything concurrently and finish nothing.. maybe do nothing.. maybe try and learn to draw better so I don’t have to worry so much about writing and plot and pacing and world building.. maybe wait for the sweet inspiration for a one shot of below 15k words to hit me..

..and yet I feel compelled to write SOMETHING.. which sorta sucks..

[the-firebird69]

You can't order me to do something to your property in space Stan you're a mental patient go ahead I'm going to post everything you say so people can get arrest you tonight

Zues Hera

But I doing is not illegal yes it is my grandpa has going all sorts of charges if he wants and Mac and Michael too and few others and I'm not siding with John remillard who you sided with and that's where the charges are coming from your relationship with him. And he's about to land so what you hate your kids you want to do cloning with a normal person so it's not abnormal people try it all the time I don't know what I'm talking about who the f*** are you or this little s*** bothering me 24 hours a day they're going to step on you anyways cuz you don't look into what they're doing you don't conquer it my client did and it was hard they they got beat almost they're not though they did the work and you don't. I want my money back Stan you owe me a lot of money you got me sick here you had me do the sewer you forced me to do it you weren't paying me cash or anything and you probably lied about it you didn't even pay me with a meal there's some God damn cheap you increase my rent and I want my money back this place isn't worth $100 a month it's substandard living and I can go to the state and move and shut it down. I wish you wouldn't do that and stop being hostile so stop doing this baby s*** if you can't handle the job let someone else do it it's such a f****** p**** you're just like this p**** over here he's a massive massive p**** I guess I'm going to have to use you like I said and nobody's going to notice cuz they're a bunch of errands airheads and I need the hardware she's going to attack people making cars and trucks and bicycles you f****** useless s****.. I've already expressed myself yeah you squeeze the things in your ass it's all over your apartment and all over town and all over the state and world they heard you all day long you're expressing the stupid s*** in your ass you are a suck bag you really are a low-life loser what the f*** is wrong with you you can't use a shovel shovel three shovelfuls of dirt the Federalists will be after me you only use John remillard's shovel going to the old s*** sticks his head out I need to borrow your shovel and I'll probably the f****** shovel is such a p**** I'll start taking the stuff and I'll start taking yours cuz you're such an incompetent twit you want me to work on you that's the math regardless of your goddamn mouth and your cheesy brain

Well that was him and I didn't know it and it's horseshit I say it everyday you're probably this end of Earth or piece of s*** I'm going to get up in a ship and blow it right up I don't need anything I'll take all your s*** and throw it out the door see how far you get hurry up about it too I need it. Well that was him again and I guess I'm doing that it's not about respect he says what I'm doing is disrespectful running around forgetting the check not knowing why I have to pay it it's either thinking I'm waiting and losing stuff and people and the empire is setting me up and I know what it is now and I see what you're saying but I can't really do it I couldn't send someone over today cuz he wouldn't go and he's saying it's horseshit you wouldn't let me says it's not supposed to be done Susie wants me to run over there and take someone's shovel and that's his shovel even if he's an a****** with it what's the point the point is I'm an a****** I'm sick of you stand you're a sinner you're a cannibal you're a f*** face and you're a loser I don't want to listen to this s*** from some f****** halfway too you have a retard brain in your frontal lobe you shouldn't be trusted. We have records of it and you can go to jail for that you're following me around harassing me you're violating DOD rules laws and ethics you told me you worked on nuclear weapons that's illegal you can't tell me that you're a f****** loser. I got to tell you get the f****** guy out here tomorrow I'm going to call every single day and then I notify the housing authority and they don't care if it's public property dumb f*** these houses are all substandard you don't need to be in this coalition or whatever you call it rainbow coalition Jesus f****** Christ you people are weak..

..

That was Stan and Chris what are you saying is I'm mad and I'm steaming and I'm yelling and screaming and swearing at you and I'm telling you what I'm going to do I'm going to call the town on you and not the people you think it's like the health department okay stupid how's the authority you said you can't remember cuz you feel better I'm sick of you too and you're working with this a****** it's dog s*** and he doesn't do what you say and this guy is taking tons of stuff from him he's ripping him apart and he's going to go after you now cuz you told him where you were you stupid f*** I can afford that either I can't afford you you're a f****** loser

I want that dirt out of there tomorrow Stan

Mac daddy

I suppose I probably should tell you I think I'm going to die because I'm dealing with you this way this is really like the empires in the way either way you look at it they want you to screw around with me and you just keep doing it because you can't help it cuz you're small and you're telling everybody in the world is small and you won't get off me you should have let Sherry handle it and just send him down and do it instead it's like some sort of cock and bullsho and you can't afford it you have a small little twinkie. I understand you see it and can't stand it and have to get it done what am I supposed to do well you'd have that removed so it drains John Reema Lord doesn't want you to but the max want you to and he's in trouble with the max a little and he should be in trouble with him a lot he's attacking his own people he started this war with you it's worthless it took your job away You're supposed to be an overlord and you're coming with p**** s*** like he does I'm sick of this take care of your f****** business with this loser he's the one in the way I swear the empire wanted they want to keep that shield thing up because of Tommy f so I sort of get that and what are you saying is he wants the water to drain out and John rebelard won't do it and other people too so they're going to get in trouble so you can wait a few days since yeah I can wait a few days but people need to know it sucks in here nobody listens nobody does it right nobody's got solutions except me a three year old body is what he have and 55 years old compared to everybody here even you I'm like a two year old child that's what they considered and nobody's listening even though I'm a genius you have to understand that I can fire people I don't want any of this s*** and people are dumping all of it on me you give me the responsibility I'm going to take the reins and do whatever the f*** I want who the f*** cares for your f*** face Gordon's fisherman it's not impressive what's impressive is the xenomorph 12 foot tall biting your heads off and having 12 inside it you dumb f*** you should be afraid of me to do the job is Max should be afraid of me and they are and they're going to do the job because you people are stupid they want you to go out there and do the job and stay your whole f****** around with me saying you're doing the job and get a f****** life Stan

[wordsforthemasses]

ok so. last night, when u came home from work the day aft i got back from philly i heard the door. and i was like it’s either noah or we’re being robbed. and i was pretty sure it was noah.

i was like so. excited. like excited enough that it turned into a little bit of nervousness i think. which is so crazy. but anyways. i grabbed brent’s keys to go hand them to you and you’d reached the top of the stairs when i saw you. you smiled at me like so wide and then gave me a hug. and i squeezed tighter than you. because honestly it felt sort of desperate. i wanted to be close to you like all day and i was finally getting to do that again. agonising!! anyways

before i (zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakl - nala, interjecting by stepping and sitting on the keyboard) saw you i was like. trying to keep it chill. in the facial area. like i sort of sauntered up to you and gave you i think like a restrained smile. and then i squeezed you kinda tight during the hug.

you went to move the cars, and i was still pretty excited when you came back up but i was faced away, doing a dish at the sink, being chill. and when you came up i expected you to hug me from behind. but you ate some broccoli first and then you did i think. but. anyways. some time passed and i asked you about how happy you thought i was to see you again or something, and you were like “very.” so sure. so confident. when i asked you why, i think you said it was because of my behaviour. and i was turned away from you, unloading or loading the dishwasher. 

and honestly if you could see my face like all the time, it would be horrible. so much of the time that i’m like not being watched by you directly when you call me out on stuff like this i’m like. clearly feeling so. pinned down and attacked. because like ok how the fuck do you know. how the fuck do you Think you know. i’m chillin!!!!!! i was so clearly chillin.

anyways you said that it was because of how tight i hugged you, it was like we hadn’t seen each other in like 3 weeks when it had been like 11 hrs. and. OKAY??? how am i supposed to help that??? like??? i want to be fucking close to you?? bro what is your fucking problem let me be

AND I WAS TRYING TO KEEP IT CHILL TOO. I KNOW I ALR WROTE ABOUT THIS BUT WHEN YOU TURNED AWAY TO GO DOWNSTAIRS. I LIKE. YOU KNOW. had a little. hoppy moment. about. it. and then turned around like sort of terrified that you’d seen me but here you are reading this so whatever it’s all in the past for me i’m sure i don’t like you as much anymore it’s fine

the number of posts i’ve been writing recently is a little concerning.

but anyways this reminded me. of. when i was sitting on you on the dirty disgusting couch in the old house. and i was kissing you and i stopped for whatever reason and like you sort of goaded me into kissing you more in like a bratty way and it worked. ok. sue me. i wanted to kiss you and also shut you up. kissing two birds with one stone here. whatever. the point is. when i pulled away from kissing you you laughed so hard and said ‘you’re so fucked’ and like you were right. however, i was horrified. how is it any of your business how I feel in my own Brain about you why do you get to know that.

and you said. that it was because apparently i didn’t Like brattiness but like totally fell for it OKAY YEAH and what and WHAT

you were so fucking confident about it, like it was hilarious to you how down horrendous i was. and like yes. ok. like yeah. i was. and am. and will continue to be. but yeah. horrifying. this was before we were a sure thing at all and i think. it made you. like. sure. or more sure. you were right about everything. i’d go to philly and miss you. both times. i was unsure what it would bring for us both times but. i would ask you to date me within like an hour of you making that wish. i know that wasn’t a prediction of yours. but it was close to one. 

and your hubris in early january. i like. had a girlfriend. basically. you know. life plans together. some level of commitment to the point that i felt it was necessary to inform him and update him on the happenings of our developing relationship. i think it was the day that we got back from the mall. when we were sitting on that dirty disgusting couch. and you were like. if there’s a 1% chance you’ll date me, i’ll still try. and i was like. 

OH. that day. we held hands in the taxi on the way back. :). so cool and tender. i love you. or on the way there. i think it was on the way back. because on the way there i thought about it. i think. but we were still at that point where like. i wasn’t sitting in the middle seat. we still did that on the car ride on the way to the red lobster part of your birthday, but i remember wishing that i was closer to you.

anyways, like i was saying. the fucking audacity. of me being like. u know i’m like sort of in a relationship right. and you being like. yeah i know. but. you said i had a chance. and the potential roi is immense. like if you’re worth $10,000 or something, which is underselling it, and i have a 1% chance. that’s worth it to me.

thank you for doing that math. i am glad i am sitting here, in your parent’s house, typing this. 

i hope this lasts. i hope you get to read this on or after your birthday next year. i hope i get to write more. 

i just heard a car lock so i know you’re almost done moving them. :) i get to hang out with you!!!!!!!! bye future noah!!! i love u 

i’d apologise for how long this is but i don’t think you mind very much.