#beige prose is hard

[fiddles-ifs]

Your prose (is that the right word?) is borderline addictive, it’s just…the way you word things…wowza…absolute pleasure to read 😖

Th. Thanks

[f14fun]

big mouth, big brain (!youtuber x op81) ~ part 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, a video essayist pops up on oscar's youtube feed, and he falls in love with the way she speaks and tells stories

smau + prose (5.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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a little over a week later, on march 24...

yourusername:

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 211,009 others

yourusername: thx babe 🧡

view comments

oscarpiastri: np honey 🧡

user1: aight what is this sudden new development 😀

user1: i mean i'm NOT complaining but YOU SIR better take care of our pookie dookie wookie y/n 🧐🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: got it, got it 😁😁🫣

user2: girl you got him blushing and shiii-

user3: omg i saw her today at the melborne gp and she was so nice to me! like i'm not familiar with who she is really (i'm new to the wonderful world of mawmaw y/n!), but i just know she will be the perfect wag <3

user3: like she saw me struggling with my lanyard, wine, and duffle bag, and offered to literally hold all three, i love her so much

user3: and her outfits are literally so cute, oscar, you chose the right one!

liked by oscarpiastri

user4: omg SHE'S REPPING THE ORANGE HEART #teampapaya

user5: y/nscar, my mawmaw and pawpaw 😘😽💋

user6: like i know they are not official official, but these soft launches gotta stoppp, just hard launch already

user7: girl is he good in bed

user7: please please please give deets, ily!

user8: fam you mad weird for that one

user9: please for the love of god respect their privacy

liked by oscarpiastri and yourusername

oscarpiastri: ready for date night 2 night?

yourusername: always ready for u 💗

user10: the BLATANT FLIRTING NAHHH

user11: imagine if this is all one big fat skit i'm actually going to scream cry throwup kms

landonorris: so nice to meet you today, love a girl who finally makes oscar stfu

yourusername: LMAOO 😭😭 it was a please lando

oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄

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I was in fact, not alright.

It had been little over a year since I had been on an actual date (not counting the instances where I went over to a guy's house for some ramen, and all of a sudden that was the date) Used to all these low effort, casual efforts at being romantic, I was suddenly hit with the prospect of an actual man who wanted to treat me with respect.

Oscar Piastri.

The man who I idolized as I grew up, always admiring his grit and courage from afar.

And this hardworking man wanted to take me out on a date. For real.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that churned within me. I smoothed my champagne white colored dress and straightened my Cult Gaia necklace. Oscar had only asked of one thing of me tonight, which was to either wear white or beige.

My heart pounded relentlessly, a drumbeat of anticipation and anxiety. It wasn't just any date; it was a date with Oscar Piastri. The very thought sent my mind spiraling. How did I, of all people, end up here? (answer: being chronically online did)

Every interaction with Oscar had been a mixture of awe and admiration. I remembered the first time I saw him race, the way he navigated the track with unparalleled skill and determination. He wasn't just a driver; he was a force of nature, a symbol of relentless ambition and hard work. And now, here I was, about to go on a date with him.

Even though he got fourth at his home race today, I was extremely proud of him. Both as a fan, and quite possibly, his girlfriend by the end of the night (the delusional girl in me said the last part, clearly).

When he had dm'd me privately after tweeting publicly he would like to take me out, I remember completely blanking. I nearly blacked out when he insisted on calling to go over the nitty gritty details of everything with me.

From flying me out, to booking my hotel and making sure my stay in Melbourne was as comfortable as possible, I was feeling a swirl of new emotions. Sure, life was going fast, but I liked this pace. Especially if Oscar could be beside me whilst life passed us by.

Balancing my studies at the prestigious university I attended and my growing presence as a vlogger had never been easy. My days were a blur of lectures, assignments, and shooting content for YouTube and various brand sponsorships. I had started with simple vlogs, but over time, my content had evolved into elaborate video essays on various topics, from Formula 1 analysis to a break down on the world's current events, both in pop culture and politics.

My followers had grown steadily, and so had the demands on my time.

Yet, despite the chaos, I had always found solace in my passion for vlogging. It was my creative outlet, a way to connect with people who shared my interests. My video essays, in particular, had garnered a lot of attention. They were meticulously researched, edited with care, and infused with my personal touch. The positive feedback I received made all the sleepless nights worth it.

But tonight, I wasn't thinking about the next video essay or the pile of coursework waiting for me. Tonight, I was focused on one thing: Oscar.

I had documented my journey to Melbourne in a vlog, capturing every moment from the airport, to the breathtaking view from my hotel room, to the race in Melbourne as well.

My followers were eagerly anticipating the next installment, but for now, they would have to wait. This was my time, a rare moment to step out from behind the camera and live in the present.

As I made my way to the lobby to meet Oscar, my phone buzzed with notifications. Messages of encouragement from friends and comments from my followers flooded in, but I silenced them. Tonight was about more than just content; it was about experiencing something real.

Exhaling as the elevator door slowly opened, the incessant ringing of jazz music seemed to warp and slow as I made eye contact with Oscar from across the lobby. He seemed nervous, fidgeting with his cufflinks.

Earlier in the day, we couldn't see each other, as media duties for the both of us consumed our time. So here we were, for the first time, meeting each other in person.

He was much taller in person than I had actually expected.

It was one thing to see him plastered across a big screen and splattered across billboards in New York City, but it was another to see this man in all his glory, in the flesh.

His shoulders seemed to broaden as I approach him, and a million thoughts were swirling in my mind. I just hoped the same million thoughts were swirling in his mind as well.

His fluffy brown hair looked newly tousled with, but not to the point where it looked terribly unruly. He looked human, with that crooked smile, and his eyes folded into little half moons—like parenthesis—he was happy to see me. As I was too.

All eloquence, sense of being, and peace of mind disappeared in an instant. Mouth slightly gapping widely, I was at a loss of words for once in my life.

Oscar Piastri is beautiful.

We simultaneously reached out for a hug, our laughter breaking the awkward silence that had settled upon us as we sized each other up for the first time. The hug was amazing, enveloping me in a warmth that felt almost surreal.

His arms wrapped around me with a gentle firmness, and I felt a sense of comfort and safety that I hadn't experienced in a long time. It was as if I had come home, even though we were standing in the middle of a bustling hotel lobby.

The hug lasted a little longer than usual, neither of us wanting to let go. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my own, and the scent of his cologne, fresh and slightly woody, filled my senses.

When I finally, reluctantly let go, his hand lingered on my waist for a moment longer, sending a shiver down my spine. The touch was intimate and unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we both felt.

As his hand finally released its gentle hold, I felt butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. My cheeks warmed, a blush creeping up as I tried to steady my breathing. I glanced up at him and saw that he was blushing a little bit too, his cheeks tinged with a soft pink.

His bashful smile mirrored my own feelings, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, we both knew this was the start of something special.

Oscar cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "I, uh, got something for you," he said, his voice tinged with nerves.

He flipped the bag he was holding around, and I could see the words Valentino sprawled across it. I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise.

"Oscar, you didn't," I whispered, my heart racing even faster.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure which one you wanted, so I got both," he admitted, looking sheepish yet proud. "One in red and one in blue."

I was completely floored. "Oscar, this is… wow," I stammered, at a loss for words. I had never expected such a grand gesture, especially not on our first date. It was one thing to admire him from afar, but to have him go to such lengths for me was overwhelming.

He shifted slightly, his nervousness palpable. "I just wanted to do something special for you," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "You deserve it."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "This means so much to me."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made my heart swell. "I'm glad you like it," he said, stepping closer. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."

I looked down at the beautifully crafted bags, my fingers tracing the elegant lettering of Valentino. Each bag represented more than just a luxury item; it was a symbol of his consideration and effort. It was clear that he had put thought into this, wanting to make a good impression and show that he cared.

"I can't believe you did all this," I murmured, still in awe. "It's… beyond anything I could have imagined."

He took a deep breath, his confidence growing slightly as he saw my reaction. "You deserve to be treated well," he said, his voice firm. "And I wanted to make sure you knew that."

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you," I repeated, my heart swelling with affection. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, his hand gently brushing against mine. "Just enjoy the evening."

As we stood there, the world around us seemed to fade away. In that moment, it was just the two of us, sharing something special and unforgettable. And for the first time in a long while, I felt truly cherished.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," I confessed, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "This is all so surreal."

Oscar's eyes softened as he took my hand in his. "It's real, Y/N. And it's just the beginning."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my cheeks flush. The thought that this was just the start of something more was both thrilling and terrifying. But as I looked into his eyes, I felt a sense of reassurance.

"Let's make tonight memorable," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Absolutely."

With a gentle squeeze of my hand, he led me out of the hotel lobby. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and as we walked towards his black McLaren that was waiting for us, I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Oscar had gone above and beyond to make this night special, and I was determined to cherish every moment.

As we approached the car, Oscar immediately took the initiative to ensure everything was perfect for me. He opened the passenger door and motioned for me to sit down, but not before adjusting the seat settings. He carefully moved the seat forward and tilted it slightly to match my height, ensuring I would be comfortable during the ride.

"Is the seat okay?" he asked, looking at me with genuine concern.

I nodded, already feeling the comfort of the perfectly adjusted seat. But he wasn't done yet. He leaned in and adjusted the air conditioning, making sure it wasn't too chilly. "I know it can get a bit cold sometimes," he said with a small smile, "so I set it to a warmer temperature."

I smiled back, appreciating his thoughtfulness. Once he was satisfied that I was comfortable, he turned his attention to my belongings. Gently taking the old bag I had brought with me, he began transferring my items into the new red Valentino bag he had gifted me. He was meticulous, making sure that nothing was left behind and that everything was placed neatly in the new bag.

"Here, let me help you with this," he said softly, his hands moving deftly as he organized my things.

Watching him, I felt a warmth spread through me. He wasn't just being thoughtful; he was showing me that he cared about every little detail, making sure that I felt special and valued.

Once he had finished, he handed me the new bag, his eyes shining with pride. "There you go," he said, his voice gentle. "Everything's all set."

I took the bag from him, my fingers brushing against his for a moment. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "You didn't have to do all this."

He shrugged modestly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to," he replied simply. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

And as he closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his kindness and attention to detail. Oscar Piastri was proving to be more than just a racing legend; he was a gentleman, someone who cared deeply and went out of his way to make me feel cherished.

Oscar didn't act like an immature, twenty-three year old boy, like some people made him out to be. Unlike the bummy guys I had known and casually dated before, this was a step up.

He maneuvered the car with ease, backing up with one hand on the steering wheel while his other arm rested casually on the back of my seat. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles shifted and tensed underneath his white collared shirt, the fabric stretching slightly over his broad shoulders. It was impossible not to find it incredibly attractive. My cheeks heated up, a blush spreading across my face. Oscar noticed and turned to look at me, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Are you blushing?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, no...I mean, maybe a little." I laughed nervously, trying to brush it off, but the warmth in my cheeks only intensified.

He chuckled, a soft, bashful sound, and I noticed a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "I guess we're both a bit flustered tonight," he admitted, glancing back at the road. The air between us felt charged with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

As we settled into the drive, the initial awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable silence. I watched the city lights blur past us, the rhythm of the car soothing my nerves. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Oscar took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You know, there's a lot of pressure in Formula 1," he said, his voice thoughtful. "It's not just about the races. There's so much that goes on behind the scenes—training, media obligations, sponsorships. It can be overwhelming sometimes. But having someone like you here tonight, it makes it all feel worth it."

I smiled, touched by his openness. "I can only imagine how tough it must be," I replied. "Balancing my studies and vlogging is already a handful. There are days when it feels like I'm barely keeping up with everything. But tonight...I'm really grateful to be here with you."

He glanced over at me, his eyes soft and understanding. "Sounds like we both have a lot on our plates," he said. "But maybe tonight, we can just focus on ourselves and leave all those distractions behind."

"Agreed," I said, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Tonight is just about us."

We exchanged smiles, a silent agreement to make the most of this evening and cherish the time we had together. The city lights blurred past us as we drove on, the world outside fading into the background as we found solace in each other's company. The pressures of our respective worlds felt miles away, replaced by a shared sense of tranquility and excitement for what the night had in store.

The McLaren navigated smoothly through the city streets, and with each passing moment, I found myself more captivated by Oscar's presence. His occasional sideways glances and the genuine interest he showed in our conversation made me feel seen and appreciated in a way I hadn't experienced before. It was refreshing to connect with someone on such a deep level, especially amidst our busy lives.

"I've always admired your dedication to racing," I said, breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between us. "It must take an incredible amount of discipline."

Oscar smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you," he replied sincerely. "It's my passion, but it's also a demanding profession. Every race, every decision matters. It's a constant balancing act, trying to perform at your best while managing everything else."

"I can relate," I admitted with a small laugh. "Trying to balance university assignments, vlogging, and now, this unexpected but wonderful evening—it's a lot to juggle."

He nodded thoughtfully. "You're doing an amazing job," he reassured me. "Not many people can handle all of that with such grace."

The compliment warmed my heart, and I felt a surge of gratitude towards him. "Thank you, Oscar. And for what it's worth, I think you handle the pressures of Formula 1 admirably."

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The city lights cast a soft glow on his features, accentuating the earnestness in his expression. "I appreciate that," he said softly. "Having you here tonight, it's a reminder of why I do what I do."

A comfortable silence settled between us once more, filled with unspoken understanding and a growing connection. The air inside the car was charged with an undeniable chemistry, a magnetic pull that drew us closer with each passing minute. It was a rare and precious moment, where time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor each other's company without the weight of responsibilities and expectations.

Oscar glanced at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face, "if you keep blushing like that, I'm going to think you're a better driver than me."

I laughed, my cheeks still warm. "Oh please, you know I'm terrible with directions. I'd probably get us lost before we even reach the restaurant."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, don't worry, I'll be your GPS for the night. Just don't expect me to be as reliable as my car on the track."

At a stoplight, he turned to look at me, and to my surprise, he brushed a loose strand of my hair away from my face to the back of my head. Holding my chin, he smiled, and a small smirk blossomed across his face.

Imagine my shock horror when I started blushing again. It felt like that one Grey's Anatomy episode where a girl wouldn't stop blushing, and got surgery to treat her incessant blushing.

Yes, I really felt like Kelly Roesch every time I was around Oscar.

"Y/N, do I really make you blush that much?" Oscar smirked and looked forward, as the light had changed back to green. Pressing the gas pedal, he sped off, and I let out a gasp from how fast the car was going.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, maybe I am blushing, what about it?" I dared to challenge playfully, immediately regretting my boldness and the sudden surge of moxie.

Oscar turned to look at me, his smile widening. "You're adorable when you blush," he remarked, his tone warm and affectionate.

Embarrassment tinged with delight colored my cheeks even more. "Well, you have that effect on me," I confessed, feeling a rush of courage.

He chuckled softly. "Good to know," he teased gently, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the road.

The playful banter eased the tension between us, infusing the car with a light, flirtatious energy. As we continued driving through the city streets, our conversation flowed effortlessly, alternating between laughter and more serious topics.

Oscar shared anecdotes from his racing career, injecting humor into tales of close calls and victories, while I recounted memorable vlogging experiences and the challenges of managing a demanding schedule.

Each exchange deepened our connection, fostering a sense of mutual understanding and admiration. There was an unspoken chemistry between us, a magnetic pull that grew stronger with every shared laugh and meaningful glance. I

t was as if we had known each other for much longer than just this evening, our bond forged in the shared pursuit of passion and ambition.

By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the initial nervousness had transformed into a comfortable familiarity. Oscar held the car door open for me with a gallant smile, his gestures both chivalrous and endearing.

As we walked into the restaurant together, hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that brought us here.

When we arrived at the front entrance of the restaurant, I was once again struck by the thoughtfulness of his choices. The place was elegant yet intimate, with a cozy ambiance that made me feel instantly at ease.

Oscar had clearly put a lot of thought into every detail, and it was impossible not to be touched by his efforts.

As we sat down, I couldn't help but smile at him. "You really went all out, didn't you?" I teased gently.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Only the best for you."

I blushed, feeling the warmth of his words wash over me. "Thank you, Oscar. For everything."

"You're worth it," he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, I knew that this was more than just a date. It was the beginning of something beautiful, something that had the potential to grow into a deep and meaningful connection.

And as the night unfolded, filled with laughter, conversation, and a shared sense of excitement, I realized that I was ready to embrace it wholeheartedly.

As we settled into our seats at the cozy restaurant, the atmosphere around us seemed to hum with a quiet energy. Oscar and I exchanged glances, a knowing smile playing on both our lips, as if silently acknowledging the unspoken tension between us.

"So, Y/N," Oscar began, his voice low and playful, "tell me more about your vlogging. Any juicy behind-the-scenes stories?"

I chuckled, stirring my drink slightly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Endless editing sessions, occasional tech disasters. But it's all worth it when I get to share something meaningful with my followers."

"Sounds like a lot of work," he mused, his gaze lingering on mine. "But I bet you enjoy every minute of it."

"Most of the time," I admitted, feeling a rush of warmth at his attentiveness.

As I settled into recounting the tea ceremony mishap, I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory, though at the time, it had been far from funny. "So, there I was, kneeling beside this beautifully arranged tea set," I began, gesturing animatedly with my hands. "The camera was perfectly positioned to capture this serene moment. I was about to take a sip of the freshly brewed tea when suddenly, the tripod leg gave way."

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes fixed on me with rapt attention. "No way," he interjected, clearly intrigued.

"Yes way," I confirmed with a laugh. "And in that split second, everything descended into chaos. The camera toppled over, knocking into the low table where the tea set was displayed. Cups shattered, tea leaves scattered everywhere, and I, in a desperate attempt to catch the camera, managed to knock over a delicate vase of flowers."

Oscar's laughter filled the air, a genuine and infectious sound that made me smile even wider. "You must have been in shock," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

"I was," I admitted, recalling the moment vividly. "But somehow, amidst the chaos, I kept rolling. I think I was in such disbelief that I just kept filming, capturing the aftermath of the disaster. Tea leaves floating in the air, water dripping from the overturned vase—it was a scene straight out of a comedy."

"And your viewers got to witness it all?" Oscar asked, still chuckling.

"Oh, they did," I confirmed, a grin spreading across my face. "And surprisingly, they loved it. I received so many comments about how refreshing it was to see the behind-the-scenes reality, even if it meant watching me fumble through a tea ceremony."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his chair. "It just goes to show," he mused, "sometimes the unplanned moments make the best stories."

"Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, ready to share tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Well, there was this one time in Australia," he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "During one of my rookie years, I had a near-miss with a kangaroo. It came out of nowhere, right in the middle of the track. I had to swerve so hard I thought I'd end up in the barriers."

I gasped, eyes wide. "A kangaroo? Seriously? Only you would have an experience like that!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Yep, only in Australia, right? But that wasn't the end of it. The kangaroo didn't just stay on the track. It jumped over the barriers and ended up in the audience. People were screaming and trying to get out of its way. It was pure chaos."

"Oh my God," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, thankfully," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling. "Security managed to corral the kangaroo and get it to safety. But it was definitely one of the most chaotic moments I've ever experienced on the track. The race had to be stopped for a few minutes until everything was under control.

The whole time, I was just sitting in my car, watching this kangaroo cause mayhem and thinking, 'Is this really happening?'"

I couldn't stop laughing at the mental image. "I can't believe it. That's insane. Did they ever find out how the kangaroo got there in the first place?"

Oscar shook his head, a smile still playing on his lips. "No idea. It was one of those freak occurrences. But it definitely made for an unforgettable race. Every time I go back to that track, I half expect to see another kangaroo waiting to jump out."

I giggled, feeling a warm connection building between us. "Well, I hope not. One near-miss with a kangaroo is more than enough for a lifetime."

He nodded in agreement, his smile broadening. "Yeah, definitely. But hey, it makes for a great story to tell on a first date, right?"

I blushed at his words, realizing just how special this evening was becoming. "Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of other dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, ready to share more tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Oh, I have plenty," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "There was this one time when..."

As he launched into another story, I couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly we were connecting, each story weaving us closer together in this unexpected evening of laughter and shared experiences. The initial awkwardness had completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfort and camaraderie that felt both exciting and natural.

"You have some pretty wild stories," I said, still marveling at the idea of a kangaroo on the track. "I can't imagine how you keep your cool in situations like that."

He shrugged, a modest smile playing on his lips. "You get used to it, I guess. Racing teaches you to expect the unexpected. But it's not always as dramatic as dodging wildlife. Sometimes it's the little things that make a big difference, like dealing with sudden changes in weather or handling a tricky pit stop."

I leaned in, fascinated. "Tell me more about the pit stops. They always seem so intense on TV."

Oscar's eyes lit up as he delved into the intricacies of pit stops, explaining how every second counts and how the coordination between the driver and the crew is crucial. "It's a lot of pressure," he admitted, "but when it goes smoothly, it's one of the most satisfying parts of the race."

I nodded, absorbing every word. "It sounds like such a team effort. I never realized how much went into it."

"Exactly," he said, clearly pleased by my interest. "It's one of the things I love most about racing—the teamwork and the camaraderie. Everyone has to be at their best for the team to succeed."

We continued to share stories, the conversation flowing easily. I told him about my vlogging adventures, from the hilarious mishaps to the rewarding moments when a video resonated with my audience. Oscar listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and laughing at my anecdotes.

As the night grew later, the atmosphere around us became more intimate. We moved closer, our shoulders almost touching. The moonlight glimmered off the water, casting a soft glow on Oscar’s face.

"That sounds amazing," he said, his voice low and warm, his Australian accent adding a melodic lilt that sent shivers down my spine. Every word he spoke seemed to resonate deep within me, his low vibrato giving me butterflies.

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Thanks. It's not always easy, but it's definitely worth it."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was light, almost tentative. "I can tell," he said softly, his accent making each syllable feel like a caress. "Your eyes light up when you talk about it."

My heart skipped a beat as his hand lingered on my cheek. He leaned in, and before I could fully process what was happening, his lips brushed against my cheek in a soft, lingering kiss.

"You’re really something, you know that?" he murmured, his lips close to my ear. His breath sent shivers down my spine, his accent making the words even more intoxicating.

I felt my cheeks flush, a smile spreading across my face. "You’re not so bad yourself," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. The way his accent rolled off his tongue was doing things to me I hadn't anticipated.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I've been wanting to kiss you all evening." His accent made the confession sound even more alluring.

"Is that so?" I asked, my voice playful yet breathless. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering wildly.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Absolutely. You’ve been driving me crazy with that smile of yours," he said, his accent making the words feel even more intimate and personal.

I laughed softly, feeling a mixture of flattery and nervous excitement. "Well, I guess I'm guilty as charged."

He leaned in closer, his lips now brushing against my ear. "Maybe we should make a habit of this. I like seeing you happy," he whispered, his accent sending delicious shivers down my spine.

My heart raced as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You’re pretty good at making that happen," I admitted, feeling a surge of boldness. The way his voice, with its rich accent, played over my senses made me feel something stirring inside.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he reached for my hand. "Follow me," he said, his voice filled with playful promise. His touch was electric, sending a thrill through me as I placed my hand in his.

"Where are we headed to next?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. I was clearly blushing and super happy, unable to hide my excitement.

Oscar’s smile widened. "A yacht," he said simply, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and 220,018 others

yourusername: finally, date night!

view comments

user1: i'm going to totally pretend that your now "chill" caption truly encapsulates how you are feeling (you were freaking out on priv earlier)

oscarpiastri: priv??! let me follow the account @/yourusername

yourusername: priv... what are you talking about i don't have a priv

oscarpiastri: 🧐🫵🏻

francisca.cgomes: what a beautiful girl 💋💋

yourusername: you're talking! babe you ae so beautiful as well 💋

oscarpiastri: are you flirting with my girl @/francisca.gcomes???

user2: MY GIRL SJIJSJORJDSS

user3: that's so alpha male of you oscar

yourusername: so what if she is 🙄

oscarpiastri: i've had her for less than a day let gooo 😥

francisca.cgomes: idc 🙄🙄

charles_leclerc: children please stop fighting

pierregasly: @/francisca.cgomes ... babe what about me

user4: LMAO KIKA NOT ANSWERING BAHAHA

user5: mawmaw yi pawpaw

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

user6: guys i just happened to be at the same resturaunt as them tonight bc of a family dinner and let me tell YOUUU, they were so flirty with each other omg. like i sat at the table adjacent to their left so i got a birds eye view of all of the blushing. like he kept intentionaly touching her hand and stuff it was so cute 😵‍💫🫠🥰

user7: landonorizz you got some competition @/landonorris

user8: yeah lando, i fear oscar may have more rizz than you

landonorris: 🙄👊🏼

user9: call him, oscarizz...?

user10: 💀💀 nahh that didn't hit LMAO

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 628,100 others

oscarpiastri: i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it

view comments:

yourusername: NO OSCAR THE CAPTION 😥😥😥

yourusername: HE DOESN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

yourusername: OSCAR AND I DIDN'T FUCK

oscarpiastri: exactly, a gentleman never does such thing on a first date

yourusername: WHY IS THAT YOUR CAPTION NOOOO

oscarpiastri: people are not misunderstanding 🫷🏻🫸🏻

yourusername: OSCAR THEY ARE MISUNDERSTANDING IN THE COMMENTS

yourusername: I DID NOT DO SUCH DEED

user1: i love how y/n is literally freaking tf out and oscar is chill

user2: LMAO i can just see the cartoon silly steam leaking from her ears everytime oscar does anything

user3: god i don't even know if i want to be her or oscar

user4: i choose both.

user5: THEY FUCKED??? 😡😡🤬🤯🤯🤯😰😰😰😰🫨🫨🫨🤐

user6: oscar MY MAN the caption feels a little... sus

user7: had to clean my glasses to reread the caption

user7: because y/n's beauty was genuinely blinding me

user8: aight oscar who wrote that caption 😵😵

user9: ignoring the weird??! caption, they look SOOO CUTE UGH

yourusername: TYSMMMM <3 (pls ignore the weirdass caption yes, yes pls do that)

user10: LMAO

charles_leclerc: ...

oscarpiastri: father, please look away

yourusername: oh!- so NOW your embarassed

charles_leclerc: sending a screenshot of the caption to your mother brb

oscarpiastri: i hope you are reffering to alex

charles_leclerc: no, i definitely mean nicole

oscarpiastri: DELETE DELETE DELETE

logansargeant: bro your cooked

charles_leclerc: "OSCAR JACK PIASTRI" - what your mom said, she said it, not me

charles_leclerc: "HAVE SOME MORE DECORUM YOUNG MAN" - nicole

charles_leclerc: "TREAT A LADY WITH RESPECT"

oscarpiastri: ma'am yes ma'am 🫡🫡🫡

yourusername: god i love your mom @/oscarpiastri

yourusername: ty for doing me a service 🙏🏼🙌🏼 @/charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: no problem, a future leclerc-piastri deserves the best 🫡

charles_leclerc: (you better wife her up)

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

oscarpiastri posted on his story

caption: i finally got my dream girl her dream bags 🫶🏻❤️🧡💙

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 (part THREE yay or nay?!)

[squarebracket-trickster]

Okay, this started as a rant on another post but then i figured it wasn't fair to inflict that on OP. I don't even know OP. So uhhh...

I am, at this point, completely convinced that the people who advise against headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping, and the people who love headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping are using two different definitions of the words.

Because do you really enjoy reading published novels where you can't tell whose thoughts belong to whom? Do you really enjoy prose that is choppy, vague, awkward, and lacks enough detail to actually follow the story? Do you really enjoy prose that keeps using big, fancy words but it is clear the author doesn't actually know what they mean, or uses run-on sentences that are dizzying to try and make sense of? Do you really enjoy having your high-paced action scene interrupted by 6 pages straight of technical jargon with absolutely no attempt to incorporate it naturally into the story (and like two paragraph breaks across the whole 6 pages)?

On the other hand...

Do you really hate every single case of Omniscient POV you have ever read - did you hate Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Pride and Prejudice because of the POV? Do you really find sparse, accessible, "quick and snappy" prose that off-putting? Do you hate poetry - can you seriously not think of any examples of vivid, flowing prose chalk-full of literary devices (metaphor, zeugma etc.) that spoke to you? Have you really never enjoyed a paragraph here and there where a scifi writer explains exactly how their weird alien is biologically possible? Have you? Do you?

(Okay, okay. I know this is Tumblr. If anyone actually bothers to read this rant (hahaha) some little edgy contrarian is going to appear in the notes eventually but IN GENERAL)...

Long story short I think we have two different definitions of all these terms running around.

Headhopping

When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene).

When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene) in a way that makes it difficult to tell who is thinking and experiences what. It is confusing to the reader.

Beige prose

Simple, sparse, accessible, to the point, only conveying the tip of the iceberg.

Choppy, awkward, vague, missing critical information, sacrificing clarity for the sake of simplicity.

Purple prose

Poetic, flowery and/or vivid language, long complex sentences, a tendency toward the dramatic.

Language that is "too flowery" - fancy, rare words used incorrectly, or which don't make sense given the tone, mood, atmosphere, genre, style etc, or which make it hard to follow what is happening. Run-ons and sentences that are dizzying to make sense of. Melodrama, aka dramatic without adequate build up.

Infodumping

Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe a page or two, at an appropriate moment in the story (even a whole chapter if it is built-up to correctly). This can be in the text itself or it can be in an appendix or prologue (à la Concerning Hobbits)

Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe even several pages, at an inappropriate moment in the story. It interrupts the flow and pacing. There is no effort to weave or incorporate the information into the story. It is just dumped there.

And yeah, I just think we could solve so much discourse if we acknowledged that we aren't all using the same definitions.

[crow-posting]

⚠️ vent post ⚠️

So I just figured out why I've been so frustrated by Bungie's current storytelling, especially TFS. Like I've been trying so, so hard to see Destiny as a story of love and hope and forgiveness and togetherness so why isn't it working? Why can't I see past the tropes and beige (non-lore book) prose and pitfalls of writing for an MMO-FPS?? Am I missing the point everyone else is seeing?

And then I saw this post.

Destiny isn't a eucatastrophe. Yes, it has broken the mold for certain tropes [esp. when it comes to portrayals of second chances], but it doesn't evoke the same sense of "existential hope" that LotR does. It feels like Micah-10's pessimism in the Pale Heart: Everything's got consequences. The sun may shine out the clearer one day, but it's not today, and while you're out playing hero there's a pretty good chance you're actually the monster. A lone monster at that, despite NPCs' insistence to the contrary.

And while I don't think Destiny is actually meant to be a eucatastrophe, I do think it sucks that it tries to evoke the same sense of hope / wonder without understanding how it works. Defeating the Witness isn't the same as defeating Sauron or destroying the Death Star, because the hope is overridden by fear and desperation. Assisting the Dissenters doesn't have the same impact as redeeming Darth Vader, because there's no love or forgiveness involved. And even when Ghost comes back, and Cayde gets a proper sendoff, and everyone gets to breathe again, it doesn't actually matter because someone else comes around to reopen old wounds.

Destiny has tried to prove that bullets aren't the only way to solve problems. Destiny has tried to show that love and hope and unity matter, even if they don't change the circumstances, and you can always get a second chance no matter who you are as long as you're willing to take it. But it tried to take eucatastrophe elements while also being a grimdark space opera so now I'm sitting here like 🫠

*btw I'm aware that a good chunk of players don't view D2 as a story of hope, but rather a never-ending "Young Wolf's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," and that view is also entirely valid! I'm just talking based on my perception of the current lore / grimoire.

[draftycastle]

The Language of Flowers: Reaction

In which: I am made to feel things, get mad about being made to feel things, gush over prose, fall in love with Lyra’s ability to portray emotion, talk starry existentialism, start two petitions and go on a tangent about miserably sad fools who are boring and beige.

Lyra Brie! You’ve thrown a fish hook down my throat and are pulling out my heart! It is very painful!

“I can't tell her that I still love her even if I can't touch her like I used to.”

Right off, you got down that feeling of when something so significant happens it cracks your foundations, changes something inside that makes it feel impossible to connect to people like you once did, no matter how much you want to, no matter how much love, it’s just to much pain to bear.

   “Mom still reaches out to touch me, instinctively”

Those instinctual habits from our love ones, that are well meaning, but haven’t caught up to the current reality, can be unmooring. We know they are meant with kindness, which’s adds all the more guilt to pain.

This whole first scene really hits home hard. Theres a theme of isolation here, the kind of isolation that comes from when you are so trapped inside yourself that you become a stranger, watching life from the outside in.

The inability and struggle to talk about traumatic events is a very real and raw experience that more people have than we care to think. Pain is a very hard thing to acknowledge. You also included the anger at a trauma for what it’s taken away from the person. This makes her feel very dimensional, and genuine to me. She’s not just a passive punching bag. She’s sitting there, fully realized and with feeling.

**

Scene two and my first thoughts: Libraries are such sanctuaries! The power of story!

   “Mom still believes I will just get better with time, the way she kept watering her wilted flowers thinking they would come back to life if she just cared enough”

Something something the way Our loved ones feel guilty for our pain, and then in our pain we feel guilty for their guilt.

“If only I could read, I could get out of this body, this tainted skin, for just a moment.” Then later “I was trying to escape my skin by crawling so deeply into myself that I was not part of my body anymore”

I think, many of us can relate very strongly to this urge for escapism. Why else would social media, video games, make up, Movie and Tv, fiction books ect be quite so popularly addicting? And then you also show us that disgust for the self after a traumatic event, even when what happened is not the fault of either us or our bodies.

“I resist the urge to hide…The second I make myself known to the people here, they will want to touch me.”

Aka “The mortifying ordeal of being known”

“Fix me, fix me, fix me, I want to scream. But I have no way to say anything.”

How badly do we want the pain to be taken away? How afraid are we of the pain it takes to heal?

“The smells of flowers and grass and early spring air fill me. This is what peace smells like.”

When I tell you I GASPED at this gorgeous bit of prose.

**

I appreciate how you don’t have her be immediately successful, immediately healed, as soon as she gives it her first try. How the power here lies in building trust, in choices, in her putting in the work of healing, and not just Love At First Sight Fixes All.

Pretty Boys are not cures!

**

“I can't decide if I hope he will or won't”

If that indecision isn’t a Mood.

“i don't want to be alone” will always get me.

“Would he ever be able to speak to me? This was lovely, right now, when we both believed I would be able to touch and communicate eventually. Would I, though? Even if I can use the flowers, that's still not the same. That's not my language”

You balance so many things so well in her: she has anger, hope, doubt, fear, grief ect. This juggling I think is what really gives this story’s emotional punches their strength.

**

“Statice sits on the ground next to me, trying to be close enough to be comforting without pushing my boundaries. I appreciate that.”

WE STAN A BOUNDRY RESPECTING KING!

Hes trying to comfort her on HER terms, in a way SHE wants, instead of what he thinks “should” be.

“I'm not sure I can. I desperately need to be held, to be told that I will be okay, that things will get better, but I cannot stomach the touch required”

Petition to get her a weighted blanket.

“..such an expanse to fill with dreams.” THAT PROSE AGAIN! I’m weak.

Also I want to live in a giant tree library with winged rabbits. Unfair I’m not.

Petition for me to to live in a giant tree library with winged rabbits?

“I start to worry about the anger I saw in him. I've never seen it before, but that doesn't mean it's not commonly occurring around other people. What if he's only being nice to me to gain my trust?”

She has such well developed emotion and a really authentic representation of PTSD.

The reoccurrence of this time line she set for herself: “It's nearly the end of spring, and I told myself I'd be better before summer.” UGH. You sneaky little mind spy Lyra Brie. How are so good at pulling out human experiences and emotions like that?

“To stare at the stars and realize how big the universe is, how much this all stretches beyond the two of us, and yet we get to be here together.”

Ah yes, the optimistic existentialism of star gazing. It’s part of why I love it.

“He is choosing to spend time with me despite how hard the lack of communication makes our friendship”

You are always worthy of friends and love and human connection. Being “too much” is a lie and a scam invented by boring people in beige who are really actually quite sad and miserable. Don’t listen to sad miserable fools in beige.

“Why can't I just be normal?”

Totally not feral over this, no sir.

“I work on my sewing a bit, trying to stitch these pieces of fabric back together. Maybe I can't fix me, but I could fix these clothes”

What a wonderful illustration of one of those tiny life moments of trying to control what we can.

“I'm willing to give myself time, though, and I have hope that it will come when it's ready.”

Such beautiful character growth. We all need to relearn what it is to show ourselves this kind type of grace.

“  I don't know why I insisted on doing these things, even know they won't be able to understand or read any of it. They can't speak my new languages. There's still no way for me to actually communicate with them.    I sigh, laying down on the grass. I had insisted on starting this story, for some reason. I might as well finish it. Maybe not for them, but for me”

Sometimes it can silly to do or make something for yourself, but it really is very important. Even if it feels “too different” for others to understand at times. More people will probably get more out of it than you assume.

**

If I took a shot of water every time hope appears in Lyra Brie stories I’d be a very hydrated person.

   “Maybe love is a language of its own, and you can feel it, even if you don't know what the other person is saying.”

No words. That stands on its own.

   “Everything has changed. I am different. Will they be okay with that, once they understand? They'll have to get to know me all over again. But maybe some things are still the same.    Maybe this old part of me can be part of the new, too.”

Im so strongly in love with this I’m going to be sick!

The moments with her parents were she’s first hugging her parents again, telling them her story and she loves them, and how much she missed them- wow. Just wow. Wow. WOW. W-O-W. It’s hard to choose a favorite moment but that just might be it.

“I hold them out to him, encouraging his healing the same way he did all those months for me” What a lovely image to close with. I adore the reoccurring flower motif through out. That supportive element of floriography becoming such a healing, comforting thing really just makes this story all the more special.

To summarize: I was made me Feel Feelings against my will.

[011994]

ALLISON CELESTE ARGENT —— private , slow , writing exploration BY BAST / they, she / 30s. [beta editor] #011994

A STUDY IN : COMING BACK WRONG , misplaced retribution , girlhood stolen , female horror , violence as a weapon to regain stability , ABANDONING YOUR OLD SELF , reveling in the present , running from ties that bind us , grief . BLOGROLL: @bluntache , @baitlure , @enlaw , @aliterary .

basic rules are mutuals preferred plus name & age somewhere on your blog –– do not follow if you are a under 18 –– no drama , no call outs , and no fat shaming , transphobic or otherwise nasty things or i’ll hard block you .  

— index. // annotation , i .

this is an mutuals only independent writing role play blog for allison argent of the mtv's teen wolf  as written by bast . i track the tag #011994 . prev. oncewarm.  any similarities to other ‘allison’ blogs is coincidence &  and they are not me .  at the moment , i am not duplicate friendly . other blogs i write include :

— author note. // annotation , ii .

i write using 50x50 px icons with faux block quotes , generally simple formatting such as bold , italic , and hyper linked sentences . i use small text and big text to emphasize certain phrases . I AM IN THE BETA EDITOR. i will follow iconless blogs if the writing looks good. i suffer from ocd, diabetes and aniscoria (meaning it's hard for me to see).

my writing is succinct and to the point with powerful punches of metaphor put in randomly. my writing is more beige prose than purple but i don’t mind if you are. just know i may write half of what you write. i am always quality over quantity. i do not like clutter or stressful to navigate dashboards . i am a sucker for aesthetics but friendliness goes a long way for me .

— footnote. // annotation , iii .

do not follow me if , you are involved with / seek out drama. i am slow and low activity . i like or draft all replies i see . if you have not seen a reply in a little while , feel free to dm the link to me ! i work a lot, so i’m not online often.

unfollowing / soft blocking , is something i do. i may do this if i am unhappy with my dash, if we do not interact, or i feel our muses will not click . if i am truly offended by you , i will hard block.

      DO NOT COLLECT MY MUSE . aka , if i see you already ship with several allisons i may be hesitant to follow .

— footnote. // annotation , iv .

divergencies include only allison's death really . i have not viewed the season finale of t.een w.olf nor the recent movie . therefore i'm fuzzy on details past that . my allison is more of an original character with her personality and most of her canon experiences up until her surrogate death . after that i diverge from typical canon .

ships that i am open to include the following muses : derek & lydia are top tier , then second tier preferences are scott & stiles (preferably during his darker plot line) , as well as last tier —— though no less enjoyable for me : parrish , isaac , malia . non canon muses will be considered if i am approached ofc.

— local missing flyer. // annotation , v .

. . . ALLISON ARGENT . MISSING - RUNAWAY [DEAD] . united states citizen . hometown : beacon hills , california . unmarried , single . cis female . born 1994 .

— police report. // annotation , vi .

. . . ALLISON CELESTE ARGENT , no known alias. 5’8 . missing female , 17 in 2011 , not considered dangerous . may be suffering amnesia . last known location , rural veterinarian clinic , no body found . suspects investigated but found no leads .

— bestiary. // annotation , vii .

currently , some leads suggest seeing a similar female in height and appearance but leads have bore no fruit. allison is a ghost, flittering from ghost town to ghost town seeking to rid the country of its lurking supernatural threats.

BACKSTORY ! allison awakens buried alive in a shallow grave , digs her way out with her bare hands and wanders until finding herself at her family home . her father is gone . isaac is gone . she takes her things , weapons , etc. and leaves , not wishing to see anyone . she is suffering from trauma , disassociation and confusion . there are also bouts of amnesia that sometimes flare up when attempting to remember faces or names for 2-3 days afterwards . allison is determined to exterminate those who harm others and to protect those who are human from other worldly threats while admitting to herself , she feels sick satisfaction when killing . it's one of the few times she's feels really alive again .

A STUDY IN : COMING BACK WRONG , misplaced retribution , girlhood stolen , female horror , violence as a weapon to regain stability , ABANDONING YOUR OLD SELF , revealing in the present , running from ties that bind us , grief .

[lizhly-writes]

💖🖊️🌝✨🤔👩‍🏭 <3

in reference to this ask game

hi there! sorry for this incredibly late answer, but I'm here now!

💖What do you like most about your own writing?

Comedy. I find myself incredibly funny sometimes.

🖊️Post a snippet from a current WIP.

“You’re fucking weird,” Han Sooyoung says plainly, tapping his fingers impatiently against the worn surface of the table. “You were supposed to die about… two hours ago.  Does that sound about right?”

That was the most recent time someone tried to kill him, yeah.  

“What about now?”

“Hmm,” Han Sooyoung says.  He tilts his head at the crystal ball assessingly.  “In about five seconds?”

Yoo Joonghyuk is already hurling himself to the ground when the assassin comes in.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Michio Shoji. Definitely Michio Shoji. Who doesn't like Michio Shoji?

I have no idea what this guy is supposed to be like in canon, because I haven't actually read the ebook snippets or read the webtoon, but still!!!

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

Ah. Self-compliments. truly this is torture.

Conversational, smooth, introspective!

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

Finishing it, ahaha.

Ah, less generically speaking, I'd have to go with either timeskips/scene transitions or descriptions. I have quite a hard time trying to figure out when a scene should be glossed over -- if I'm not careful, i'll write it out in full when I really could have just summed it up in two lines or skipped over it entirely. As for descriptions, I naturally tend towards beige prose, so whenever I describe something, I really need to work at it.

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

You know, I really thought it was going to be fanfic of some kind that was going to do me in. But no, upon further thought, it's probalby going to be my villain fiance original fic, because just off the top of my head, I need to look up how to hack into government cameras, how to dig up someone's background, gang violence, probably some shit about drugs and blood or whatever... the writing itself will probably fine, but the research is going to make me look like I'm up to something, ahahaha

[scifrey]

But also! I have had a glass of gin and now I have other thoughts! Do you know what really pissed me off?????

The absolute shit blog posts that the BBC commissioned somebody to write and put on John Watson's fake ass website that were supposed to be these amazing works of literary genius that earn Sherlock Holmes Fame and acclaim.

It's a fantastic media tie-in concept in an era of fantastic media tie-ins, when every major show was trying to figure out how to get people to dual-screen their consumption. (Says the girl whose job it was at that time to literally figure out how to get screen writers work doing said small screen secondary scripts / writing gigs.)

I was so excited to go read them. I knew they had to have created an actual blog post for John watson, I knew that that was something they would do for marketing, and it was just so...

Ratchet.

They were crap. That poor copywriter who got roped into that gig. I could feel them sobbing from the other side of the keyboard.

uHG.

Typical Moffat. All bluster and blow hard and nothing to show for it.

That's the thing that pissed me off the most. As a professional storyteller who gets paid to tell compelling stories in prose, to look at this insipid Honda civic beige colored cold cat vomit of a blog and be told in the context of the show that it's actually work of heartbreaking staggering genius.... I just

honestly it was a red flag when bbc sherlock went “well obviously the word written in blood isn’t the german word for revenge, it’s clearly the beginning of the name ‘rachel’, what absolute idiot would fail to see that” when in the original novel it is, in fact, the german word for revenge, which sherlock points out gleefully to a roomful of policemen who all figure it’s the beginning of the name ‘rachel.’

and by red flag I mean it was a clear sign that the adaptation was trying to one-up the source material, instead of engaging with it with love.

[books4us]

SUNDAY SPOTLIGHT!! Let’s get it. Mark your calendars. Why? On April 1st, 2023, A new short story collection from the inimitable Gayl Jones will hit the market. My 💭; A master at language use. It’s not hard to see why Ms. Toni Morrison was so fond of Gayl Jones. Her use and manipulation of language is stunningly beautiful and often simply brilliant. There are some bright shining moments in this too short collection, but at all times her prose is poetic and intoxicating. Even in the flash fiction pieces, called fragments in this collection the prowess is still evident. In the fragment Ravenna, she tells of a pending adoption, and manages to infuse moving emotion in a few short pages, “Both girls were ten. (they wondered how ravenna got so old before anyone wanted her.) But the other girl was not a beauty. she was Black in the days when Black wasn’t considered beautiful. and in all honesty, her face looked like a frog’s though if she’d been lemon yellow or even beige that feature might have been quietly overlooked.” This is quite an impressive collection and one I highly recommend. Thanks to Edelweiss and Beacon Press for an advanced DRC. #butter #gayljones #beaconpress #ownvoicesreviews #sundayspotlight2023 #blackbooksmatter #bookblogger #bookreview #bookreviewer #blackbibliophile #readmorebooks #followforblackbooks (at Downtown Houston) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoABlDsrqNO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[sanctimoniousscrawlings]

Novae (How I fell in Love w/ the Sun...)

 Chapter 2 // Day1 // Void

    The morning light filtering through the blinds accosts my closed eyes while birds obnoxiously proclaim their desire to copulate, assaulting my ears. I’m going to murder them all.     I open my eyes to check the time only to realize I overslept. Crap. I call my boyfriend to come get me, cast a spell to rid myself of yesterday’s filth as I don’t have time to shower, and then start on my makeup. Silver Dagger eyeliner, Explosive Charge eye shadow, and Out for Blood lipstick because I’m coming to slay. I’ll have to upload when I get home.     From there it’s the usual routine until I find a letter addressed to me in my locker. Mission: Start.

    Queendom is only a party away- after all, I have the advantage on this board: I can control all the pieces, after all. I miss most of what my lessons are about, wrapped up in my mind and planning out my inevitable victory- until fourth period, wood shop. This and metal shop are by far my favorite classes and I’m taking them both. I am a woman of many passions and I pursue them all with zeal. For the next two class periods, I lose myself to the tasks in front of me and reach my own personal zen. During lunch, I begin working on the blueprints for my backup plan.     Plans within plans.

    I’m not sure how I get home. It doesn’t matter; there’s work to do. I go straight to the shed towards the back of my property, not bothering to stop in the house. I’ll figure out what I need tonight, obtain it tomorrow night, prepare the spellwork Wednesday night, finish preparations Thursday night, and crush the competition Friday night.     Ending up ahead of schedule, I make a few calls to acquire some odds and ends for the execution of my plans.

/ Day 2 /

    I wake up in the shed, the side of my face pressing into my drafting table. I’ve got too much to do to call the boyfriend for a ride; I’ll have to fly there. On the bright side, that gives me time to shower before heading in. After my shower, I start on my morning makeup tutorial. Khol eyeliner, Snake Eyes Emerald eye shadow, and Vampire’s Kiss lipstick.     I upload both videos, snatch breakfast from the void- someone’s fast food sack is going to be missing part of their order- and take off. First period is when the yearbook people have their meetings, so I head to their room before class.     There are a few students already in there. Perfect. I smile as I enter the room, allowing myself to fill the room. “So listen, guys. I’m going to need you to give one of these to every single senior in the school by tonight. I really want this to happen, can you do that for me?” I hand a stack of papers to a vacant-eyed girl with all the aesthetic impact of a grain of sand and leave the room. They’ll take care of it.     Now to go to class and act normal. As I commanded, the yearbook staff disseminated the sheets throughout the senior class. I so love it when things go according to plan.     Satisfied, I let myself zen out in shop again.     The rest of the day goes as planned and I practically float home rather than flying. Things are coming together nicely. It’s my turn to take care of the hives, after which I make a few more phone calls to confirm last night’s dealings.The rest of the evening I spend reaching through the void to get everything else I need.

/ Day 3 /

    Firecracker eye shadow. Inferno lipstick. Contoured beyond perfection. I spend the day making sure I’m caught up in my classes- I will not fail on any front. The day goes smoothly.     When I get home I immediately head for the massive greenhouse. Green and Star Anise. Wormwood. Rose. Violet. Angelica. Peppermint. A handful of other medicinal herbs.     I go back inside and head towards my lab, drenching the room in Void energy when I arrive. Time within the room will move significantly faster than time on the outside- and I’m going to need it to. I set the herbs to macerate and leave the room, setting a timer on my phone letting me know when to come back and begin distillation. After that I begin the second maceration, adding in the rose petals in one mixture and violets in the other. At the end of the process I have a pink philter and a blue one.     During the waiting periods I work on the back garden, stringing lights and vanishing the debris throughout the entirety of the back half of my property. Looking at it, I feel it needs something... more.     A hedge maze. I shoot some vines into the earth and within minutes walls of foliage bursting with scarlet roses looms over the yard. My brother is going to be pissed  when he sees what I’ve done. It’d be nice to convince him to make a fountain at the center of the maze, but due to a difference of opinion concerning methodology I don’t think I’ll be able rope him in on this one. Unfortunate, really. His abilities are wasted on him.     On the bright side, the stage and dance floor can go to the center.     I check my work and, satisfied, head to bed. Irons on the fire, baby.

/ Day 4 /

    Verdant Promise, Royal Plume, and Turquoise Skies eye shadow outlined with Silver Shadow along with some cool peacock fake eyelashes. Forest Witch Lipstick. The effect is exactly what I wanted and I fly to school looking regal as fuck. Tonight I do the actual spellwork for my plan.     School flies by and I’m vibrating with all the excited energy I’ve built up by the time I head home. I spend a few hours weaving spells and put the finishing touches on my special tinctures. After that I text a couple of the girls in my clique. Heading to Goblin Market. Come with?      Of course, girl! Comes Mariah’s reply.      Obviously. Karen.      Half an hour later they’re at my door. “Hey, ladies. I hope you’re ready for some otherworld shopping.”      Mariah grins, sweeping her brown curls back, green eyes sparkling. “I could use some new outfits.” She’s going for a fifties pinup look with her makeup today.      Karen steps out from behind her, short stature completely eclipsed by Mariah. Her black hair is pulled into a ponytail and her makeup is simple, going for the natural look, her brown eyes slightly obfuscated by glasses with rectangular black frames. “I’m here for some otherworld hooch.”     “I’m glad you have your priorities straight, love. Let’s head off then.”     We head for the weeping willow overlooking a nearby pond. A few minutes of waiting and the reflection of the moonrise is within the clutches of the tree. We step into the pond to find ourselves in a massive bazaar.     “Alright, Darlings. Mama’s gonna need you to fetch some things. Mariah, I’ll need you to pick out a dress for Karen as well as picking up this order.” I hand her a sales slip. “Karen, I need you to pick this stuff up when you’re grabbing your booze.” I hand her an invoice. “We’ll meet back her in, say, an hour and then crash a party.”     They assent and we head off in different directions. I have plans to discuss and payments to make.

[wilddogsdivorce]

hi

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better. well i won't be doing that . i was tagged by @knifebun and if you want to do this, then go ahead and say i tagged you, so that i can take a look :-)

Favourite colour(s): brown of all shades except beige. fuck beige. earthy and olive green. amber. easy

Favourite food: currently? grilled cheese sandwich lol. i always throw a bunch of dried tomatoes and garlic under the cheese, it's my staple food on free days.

Song stuck in your head: skin this cat by scissor sisters. it's not as harsh as it sounds by the title itself.

Last thing you googled: "grilled cheese" to see if i'm using the proper word to describe the food. besides this, "teoretyk sjp" to see if i was infodumping to my friends using the correct words lol

Time: twenty to eleven am

Dream trip: anywhere my online friends are. i'd like to travel to as many other former soviet union countries as possible too, though. i know my history teacher and his wife have done it, so maybe one day

Last book you read: fucking Kordian by Juliusz Słowacki, because i realized i haven't ever read it and it would be nice if i actually did (it's not that bad as some people paint it to be, tbh..), An Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, and Les Miserables. no niche titles, but at least i'm not spending my time just blankly staring at the computer screen.

Last book you enjoyed reading: THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS READ THIS FUCKING BOOK RIGHT NOW

Last book you hated reading: i can't really remember? i don't read books if i know i'll hate them. i'm trying to get through Master and Margarita, but it's.. hard for me to focus on its text, it's a densely packed prose. i remember trying to read Cursed Bunny some time ago, and while it tackles down serious issues of our age, i don't think i'm the target reader for this book.. i should probably give it another chance, tho

Favourite thing to cook/bake: shakshouka, żurek (using a traditional family recipe), tagliatelle with a vegan sauce i can't remember the exact ingredients of, and. honestly these are the basics. i don't often get the chance to cook

Most niche dislike: does this tag game expect me to have such an insight in myself and other people so that i'm capable of answering this question

Opinion on the circus: if they don't use animals, i don't really care. i've never been to one

Do you have a sense of direction: yeah, a pretty good one. funny thing is that when i'm somewhere for the first time, i tend to use visual cues for the crushing majority of time, but later on i mostly think of the walk as 'after some time, turn this direction' and i use the environment as an additional help

[clare-with-no-i]

Any idea of phrases I can use to describe pain and sorrow? I’m a different anon who’s also working on a oneshot, and since it’s from Sn*pe’s POV, I’m going to need to show tons of suffering, lol! Just asking here because you always describe emotions so so so well that I can actually feel them! Thank you!!!

wow what a lovely question, thank you for asking me! I’m so honored! even with it being Sn*pe lol!

so, whenever I describe a person’s emotion or feeling in the scene, I try really hard to sit with that feeling myself for a few minutes.  If someone is feeling sorrow, I try to remember a time I’ve felt that, and catalogue how it expresses across my body; do I feel it in my throat, in my chest? does it tingle up my arms like when I’m excited? probably not, right? 

sorrow is a really hollow emotion - we usually feel sorrow because something has been taken from us, whether that be a person, place, thing, time in our lives, etc. so if I were to describe a person really deeply feeling sorrow, I might describe how not only their physical body feels hollow, but their actions as well; maybe even say that “as they pressed the [object they’re holding] to their front, they were dimly surprised that the thud of skin to [object] didn’t rattle around their chest the way an earthquake shook an empty room.” or something like that - he is bereft of something, missing it like a phantom limb; essentially, this sorrow has rendered him a different person from the person he once was.

or, too, the way that sorrow dulls the good things in life. as we all know, I’m a huge fan of color-based metaphor (ahem, color theory), because I think that the way we see objects around us is so much a reflection of our ability to process them, which in turn comes from our emotional state. is everything now dull for this character? have blues melted into greys, golds into dull beige? what could trigger their pain?

and this specific character (for me, at least!) is so entrenched not only in sorrow/pain but also in a deep selfishness and an inability to process his pain. would he be able to sit with these negative feelings and really work through them? probably not. would he try to replace them with something under his control, like channeling anger or funneling it into some projected sense of victimhood? what actions would he take, even something so minute as clenching his hands to the point that his fingernails dig crescents into palms - or closing in upon himself, sitting hunched in his chair as though trying to disappear.

for pain, I'd REALLY get into the physicality of pain and anger. anger stings hot and burns, from the chest up the neck and even behind the eyes. the two are so clearly interwoven, especially with Sn*pe - one bleeds into the other and vice versa.

WHEW this got long. I hope this was helpful!! I loooove getting into the nitty-gritty of prose - so fun! and pls throw me a link to this one-shot once it’s out, again I’d love to read it and go nuts in your comments! <3 xx

[konstantya]

Frankenstein’s Meme - Day 8

(Full list of questions at the bottom, under the cut.  Previous answers can be found here.)

8.  Squicks - What are some things that squick you in fandom - not necessarily “icky”, though it can be. From anything involving blood, to bad grammar.

The usual taboos of underage and incest will do it, though I do tend to be a little more flexible about both of those when it comes to historical settings (and/or fantasy settings heavily inspired by RL history, see: Escaflowne).  Like, back in the Regency era, it wasn’t unheard of for a woman to get married at sixteen, or to marry their cousin or some other distant relation, so I can take that in stride.  But if we’re talking about either of those in a modern context, nope, can’t do it.  And underage where one character is actually prepubescent is always a hard pass, no matter what the setting; the same goes for parent/child or sibling incest.  (And on that note, chalk Daddy Kink (and the lesser-seen Mommy Kink?) up as a squick when it comes to erotica specifically, pfft.)

Beyond that, bad spelling, grammar and/or formatting will certainly turn me off*, and while I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a squick, boring, beige prose has been known to make me lose interest--best-case scenario is that I start skimming, worst-case scenario is that I give up on the story altogether.

*Note that this is different from non-native speakers struggling with the language and/or formatting conventions, and yes, it’s actually very easy to tell the difference most of the time.

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(Originally posted by trobadora, on DW.)

1. What’s changed about your fandom life in the last 365 days? 2. Your newest fandom. 3. You’ve got your OTP, you have to throw a third into the mix (from the same fandom), creating an OT3. Who is the OTP, and in your opinion, why would they make a perfect third for them? 4. What are the origins of your penname/username? 5. What’s a fandom that you wish had a bigger following? 6. What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? What fandom was it? Not necessarily your oldest fandom, but a fandom that you started and still continue to read/write/create content for in some way. 7. What would make you leave a fandom, or prevent you from getting into it in the first place? 8. Squicks - What are some things that squick you in fandom - not necessarily “icky”, though it can be. From anything involving blood, to bad grammar. 9. What’s the hardest thing about writing, and why are titles the Worst™? 10. Do you have a fandom that you follow - either regularly or casually - with little to no knowledge of canon? 11. Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed. 12. A ship you have never liked and probably never will. 13. Do you prefer art, fic, or vids? Why? Bonus: If someone was to give you a fandom gift, what format would it be? 14. A pairing – platonic, romantic or sexual – that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind. 15. What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom? 16. Do you remember your first OTP? Who was in it? 17. What is your favourite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)? 18. How many fandoms have you written for? How many have you been in, and how many are you still in? 19. Has social media caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why? 20. What fandom broke your heart? 21. Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you dislike or even loathe.) 22. Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend. 23. Your rarest fandoms. 24. A fandom you’ve abandoned and why. 25. Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 26. A trope which you are virtually certain to love in any fandom. 27. A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom. 28. How did you first get into fanfic, and what was the first fandom you wrote fic for? 29. Have you ever tried to write for a fandom or ship, and found you couldn’t? 30. Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

[fortuitousraven]

 Fic writer review, thank you to @undercat-overdog​ for the tag :)

how many works do you have on AO3? 

9, but 5 of those are meta.

what’s your total AO3 word count?

36 607, I’m a slow writer yes and unfortunately don’t have a lot of spare energy for writing either X)

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 

Almost entirely Tolkien, but one of them is also cross-over with Game of Thrones. Harry Potter also if unpublished fic counts ;)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Course Correction (19 002 words, published 2020-03-22). Ar-Pharazôn conveniently dies, leaving Queen Tar-Míriel and Evil Chancellor Sauron in an awkward stand-off. Plotting ensues ;)

Which is funnily enough also exactly tied for both kudos and subscriptions with Everyone is finally working together (9 877 words, published  2019-12-09). Take the jokes that Westeros being Westeros means it would count as an actual improvement if Sauron conquered it, and make an actual fic playing that out slightly more seriously ;)

That my current (and best written if I do say so myself) fic has the exact same stats as my first fic (I still like the ideas but the execution is very rough in retrospect XD) really goes to show that tropes account for a lot when it comes to fic statistics ;)

3) A review of the history of the Akallabêth

Also throwing in a meta work because I only have 4 fics X). Basically discusses the Silm and HoME versions of the story and why I prefer the latter.

4) Finrod Saves the Day

In which Númenor gets a good influence instead of a bad one. Aka the Finrod/Pharazôn ficlets.

5) Wise Heart

My Tolkien Secret Santa fic from last year about Andreth’s experience in becoming a wise-woman ^_^

do you respond to comments, why or why not? 

I always try to, I like hearing people’s thoughts on the story/canon :)

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 

I don’t really write angsty endings XD, but the closest is probably the Andreth fic?

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written? 

Yes, the Tolkien/GoT one, which is also the craziest one. Crossovers are hard to do well but they can also be a lot of fun.

have you ever received hate on a fic? 

Luckily, no.

do you write smut? if so what kind? 

I’ve written it exactly once as an experiment (m/f, unpublished for now), but I liked how that came out so we’ll see how it goes further XD

have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Not as far as I know.

have you ever had a fic translated? 

Not yet, but I’m working on translating some of mine myself. It’s just going slowly because writing new ideas is more fun X)

have you ever co-written a fic before? 

No, but it sounds fun to try sometime!

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Hard to say for an all time favourite.

I’ve been on a big 2nd Age kick for a while, and my favourites for that setting is Sauron/Tar-Miriel and Sauron/Celebrimbor. And when I was just into LoTR it was Faramir/Eowyn and Aragorn/Arwen.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I want to finish my first fic, but I’m not entirely sure that’ll be manageable X)

what are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at coming up with interesting plot points. And background, a reason I write so much meta is because I’ll inevitably wind up pondering the implications and thematic connections while I write a fic XD

what are your writing weaknesses? 

Description is probably the biggest, I was slammed for beige prose in most every piece of school writing X). But I do think I’ve been improving at that in my fics.

Balancing dialogue, I go for too much or too little, and then have to try to stitch it better.

Most other writing things too? I write for fun, not because I think I’m good at it XD

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It depends? In a Tolkien work people’s language choices are very significant ;), but you can definitively still go overboard too.

I stick to having the names be in specific languages, and some terms that don’t translate smoothly (e.g. osanwe). Apart from that, I think it’s better to be consistent and have dialogue lines be either fully translated or fully untranslated.

what was the first fandom you wrote for? 

I actually started out with original fiction, and then Harry Potter. And Tolkien was the first I published.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written? 

Course Correction yay for being your own target audience and then liking the result ^_^

I tag @saurons-pr-department (if you like)

[theexaltedbride]

Quote by David Drake.

In the summer of 1970, I had occasion to spend part of an afternoon watching a seventeen-year-old girl die.

She'd taken a bullet from a fifty-caliber machine-gun through the abdomen, so it was really pretty surprising that she'd survived the short helicopter flight that brought her to us. We were at a firebase somewhere northwest of Saigon, a squadron headquarters (battalion level, in effect), and the medical facilities weren't the fanciest in Military Region III. They were the closest, though, and the medics had enough experience and cared enough to be pretty damned good. Not that it mattered. Nothing was going to save the girl by the time she got to a place that somebody could try.

The bullet was half an inch in diameter, weighed just under two ounces, and must have had a velocity of about twenty-five hundred feet per second when it hit her - spitting distance from the armored vehicle that fired it. She was wearing black trousers and a beige ao dai, the attractive "skirt" with knee-length panels front and back which is traditional garb for Vietnamese women. There was some blood on the right front of the garment and a great deal on the left rear where the bullet had exited, but the resilience of flesh had puckered closed the lips of both wounds. The bleeding that killed her was internal, where a wide track through her torso had been jellied by hydrostatic shock. It was a big bullet, that cal fifty, and it was probably going as fast on the other side of her frail body as it had been when it hit her.

The medics were pissed. They were too good and they cared too much to like losing a patient, even though they knew the girl couldn't have been saved. More specifically, they were pissed at me for trying to question the kid as they worked on her. I'd been ordered to do things I liked more, to tell the truth; but that was my job, and I got through a lot at that time by doing my job. The girl didn't care, any more than she cared that somebody in the line troop which killed her had stolen her green-sequined shoes. She was in a coma from the time she reached the firebase to the time she died, not long after.

We got the story a few hours later, from the girlfriend who'd been captured in the same action. The two of them had been recruited by the VC a few weeks before - or abducted, if you prefer, since the girls wanted as little to do with the war as any of the American draftees I knew in Nam. Sometimes it's hard to draw lines. The girls had been grabbed to transport rice from villages to local VC units. That was what they'd been doing that afternoon, each of them pushing a bicycle with a hundred-kilo bag of rice balanced on the frame, under escort of a VC soldier with an automatic rifle. While they were walking along the trail, they met an armored platoon on routine patrol.

That shouldn't have caused any problem. The platoon's half dozen ACAVs and Sheridans made enough noise to wake the dead, between diesel engines, the squeal and ringing of their tracks, and the assorted other noises of ten- and twenty-ton metal boxes moving down a path beaten through the jungle by water buffaloes. There was plenty of time for the trio to get themselves and the two massively-overburdened bicycles into concealment at the trail's edge.

They did that, and it would all have been fine - except that the escort panicked and popped a couple shots toward the vehicles as they came abreast. He ran like hell, then, showing a great deal better judgment than he had when he pulled the trigger. For all I know, he's still alive. Certainly he got through that afternoon uninjured. The girls crouched down while the platoon opened up with everything it had, firing into the undergrowth on both sides. Cannon, more than a dozen machineguns, and the odd grenade launcher and automatic rifle, all spraying the immediate vicinity. Just thinking about it, the amazing thing is that only one round from all that storm of fire hit anybody. That's what happened, though; and of course, one was plenty for the kid who caught it.

So this isn't a story about an atrocity. The victim was in the active service of the enemy and, while nobody could see well enough to shoot at her as an individual, there would have been ample reason to do so on the information the gunners had. As for the shoes - both pairs, though we got the survivor's back for her - talk to me about that when somebody's put a couple rounds past your head and you've behaved like a perfect gentleman afterwards. All things considered, it worked out about as well as it had any right to do. Only...

It gives me problems sometimes to think about a world in which seventeen-year-old girls are gutshot as a matter of course.

Maybe there isn't a better way, maybe it's part of the makeup of the species. Certainly there's enough evidence to support that view. But I sort of wish that more of the people who talk so blithely about "conflict" had had a chance to watch a kid or two bleed out on a stretcher.

A lot of fictional violence has been cleaned up. When I was a kid, I watched Davy Crockett shoot an Indian into a neat, bloodless swan dive from a tree branch. Nowadays you can see a lot of the equivalent thing on TV, folks using fully-automatic weapons which do even less obvious injury than Davy's flintlock had. In prose, the normal technique is for the victim to fall over, out of the storyline, and permit the author to get on to matters of greater interest.

And that's fine, no problem, we all do what we do.... But for my part, I don't want kids joining the Marines - or politicians voting to deploy those Marines - because at the back of their minds they have the notion that real violence is clean and cute.

Violence is sometimes necessary? Maybe; I won't advocate unilateral national disarmament until I'm willing to disarm myself, which at the moment I'm not. But the look and sound and smell of the results of people killing one another - that should be clear to everybody.

Everybody who might be asked some day to kill, or might vote that other people go out and kill for them.

- Dave Drake, Author of Hammer’s Slammers.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Hi sorry to bother u I wanted to ask how do you figure out your writing style & get comfortable with it? Ik it's really simple but I always find myself reading different writing & thinking oh that's how you write & changing my perspective on what good writing is. Ik everyone has a different style & that's ok, I just find it hard being comfortable in how I write in fear of it being too simple & not invoking anything from the reader. Sorry to dump my insecurities on u, thanks for your help

Hi! Don't worry about it. You're not bothering me. I'm happy to help 😊

Feeling insecure about your writing style is more common than you think. When I started writing, I thought my work wasn't good enough. Most of my favorite writers back then have chapters with +4k words, their stories was filled with angst, intricate plot twists, action, purple prose. My stories, on the other hand, rarely reach 3k words, they're mostly focused on love and its consequences, characters' emotions, real life like events and a more "mauve" prose (it's in between beige and purple, but with a dash of blue 😁).

With time, I learned that my writing style is simply how I express myself when I write (fan)fiction and it isn't a bad thing. I like to be objective, to understand other people's emotions, I am motivated by love and it all reflects on how I write my stories. If I like all those things about myself, why wouldn't I want my stories to express all of that?

That doesn't mean your writing won't change. It will. Because you change all the time. Every single thing that you learn and experience, the stories you like to read/watch, the songs you listen to will make an impact on you and on your writing. So, if you feel like you need to improve your writing, be more in touch with the things close to the style you want to develop. But don't be so hard on yourself.

I know it takes time, but I truly hope one day you'll say you're proud of your own work.

Thanks for the ask! Have a lovely week!