#completely my bad I just realized I never actually published this draft!
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nevermoorsource · 4 months ago
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The first half of the Nevermoor graphic novel adaptation will be released in German in November 2024. If you find out that it's being translated into any other languages, please share!
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ghoulphile · 6 months ago
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I absolutely love ur fics!! And I want to write fics of my own soon (not for fallout yet..) can u give me any advice/tips? How do u try to write down the characters as accurate as possible?
Aww thank you so much!!
That's awesome, I'm glad you're getting into writing ❤️
I'm more than happy to talk about what works for me; however, no two writers are alike so some things might resonate and some might not.
Take what does, and leave what doesn't.
Read - a lot. Published works, fanfic, poetry, novellas, series, oneshots, longfic; read it all. Explore different genres and storylines. Find what you like about them, and what you dislike. What makes them good or bad in your opinion. Play around with what you'd do differently if it was your story. All of this will help you figure out a few things: one being what you personally like in storytelling, and two the basic structure of storytelling/what makes it compelling.
Find your voice. We all have a unique tone when telling a story, verbally or otherwise. Figuring out what your personal voice is will help you write authentically but also I can guarantee you're going to be 10,000x more happy with what you come up with.
Showing vs telling is a delicate balance. Sometimes things need to be written out plainly, and other times it works better if you add more meat to the sentence. An example would be: she's angry vs her heart rate pulsed in her temples, her fists shaking at her sides as a wave of heat rolled through her body. While they both convey the same thing, one can be more engaging to read over another.
Sometimes you have to write the boring bits - and write them plainly - to further the plot.
Most people are not a walking thesaurus, and using big fancy words like you're writing a dissertation can be very off putting. Absolutely use stronger words if you can, but you don't need to be using furfuraceous to replace scaly.
Additionally, forward momentum: one action should always lead into another which leads into another and so on.
A first draft is never pretty (if you decide to do multiple drafts) and that's okay.
If you get stuck, go back several sentences. Sometimes we write ourselves into a corner without realizing. OR add what you want in brackets and move on if you're getting hung up on certain parts. An example being something like: He was [find word for mix of angry and sad] but had to stiffen his upper lip and move about his day as if [insert phrase mentioning what happened earlier]. Worse case, put it down for a day or so and come back to it later with fresh eyes.
As mad as it makes me, and as hilarious as it is... writing in Comic Sans helps. RIP.
Saying your sentence out loud can help you figure out if something is off, and saying your dialogue out loud can help determine if it's something an actual person would say.
Taking your time and being patient is the best thing you can do for your creativity otherwise you might burn yourself out.
I find music helpful so I create playlists for every fic I write that matches the vibe I'm going for. Additionally, I have pre-writing rituals that help me get into the headspace.
Yes, cryofreeze your darlings - put them somewhere safe for later. You can use those sentences for something else, they don't need to be completely deleted.
As for keeping characters... well, in character, it depends. Watching/listening to/reading whatever media they're in and paying close attention to the words they say + how they say them + if they have any specific phrases, the way they move + their actions + how they react to things helps a lot. Personally, I keep little lists of things I've noticed that I can refer to if I need them. And sometimes, you just have to suspend your disbelief a little and determine how someone might react to the particular situation you've put the character in. When it comes to that, I tend to think back on when I've been in similar situations or have felt the way they should in that scene, and use how I've reacted as a touchstone.
Write what YOU'D want to read.
And most importantly, HAVE FUN.
I hope this helped, nonnie~!!
Happy writing, you've got this 🥰
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broodpeas · 6 days ago
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19/11
I guess it was bound to happen that because the end of the year is coming, I come back to this empty space and write something down. I had a post on Friday, about friendship and my continuous struggle with understanding and trusting people, but I decided that instead of writing about that, I'd get home and do a bunch of home chores. Once I got home, I sort of did that. By 8 pm, I was in bed, trying to desperatly watch a NBA game, trying to fight the dread of life that has become a constant.
In any case, the urge to write here is because a few weeks ago, I realized I'm turning 35 years old. It feels like a milestone, and in a way, it is. I keep counting and recounting the numbers of people who are not making it to this age, and I am surprised I will most likely make it. The cliché of writing this is not on me. People laugh nervously whenever I tell them I'm not sure I'm going to make it to 35, others give me a look of concern I always shrug off because I really don't understand why people bother asking how you are if they don't want an honest answer (pro tip: stop asking!).
Turning 35 means I'm noticing how tired I am of many things and how little I care about whether I please anyone but myself. It's not a bad selfishness, it's just that I already people pleased for decades and if I can take away something from therapy is that I can't keep bending myself to other's wills and tastes. I am not likeable. I am smart, just enough to roll my eyes when people say dumb stuff, and stay silent when people speak about things I don't know. I know that my opinion is irrelevant and I like silence and my own company. I feel like a soon-to-be 35 years old, and I am not confident nor do am I kinder with myself, I perhaps reached that there's nothing I can do about me and I've given up.
I am tired and wounded, but I guess I'm still alive and in about 12 weeks I'll be 35 years old, which to me is extraordinary, but at the same -thankfully- it really isn't. Paraphrasing Saachi Khoul, one day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter.
*
In the past year, I've managed to write around 500k words in what my sisters call a novel and I call a futile exercise on writing. It took me more than 20 years to actually sit down, day in and day out, and pour out my ideas to craft plots, peoples, dialogues into something- a Frankenstein of words that only make sense to me. It made me realize I really do love writing, and whenever I'm not writing, I am thinking about my writing, about what can I do to improve it, about what things I could write. I don't publish anything- I don't need to, I just need to write.
I open my document and I write 100 words, then 200, rarely get to 500. It takes me hours to write the words. I've written 2 versions, now revising the third. In September, during a Sunday shower, I realized I wanted to write a much more light, flimsy something, and I decided that I would once the third version is rewritten in full. Completing tasks is a big deal, and it angers me that I have to finish this, but that's also the idea: I like knowing that when I'm done with this, I will have something else waiting (and the satisfaction I actually finish a thing).
I have playlists for writing, songs I need to listen to, so I can (try to) achieve specific moods. I read and read again, books and I read authors whose writing styles I like and I spend hours dissecting them, which leads me to ask how can I write trusting what I know, instead of my academic style (that is much more deattached). Learning to not take a distance from what I write, from the things I want to say is difficult. It is the reason why I revise what I write, because I want to see if I'm able to be in the page.
I took a writing course -academic writing- that was supposed to help me to come up with an academic article. That never happened (well, a draft happened and nothing else) but the professor did tell me that I have to be present, not just for the conscious act of writing, but to make myself visible in the page. She said something on the lines of trusting your voices and defend your ideas, and yes it's scary, but it's also exciting. Writing like this lets you be vulnerable, tender, and it is very scary. And so, the struggle continues, in the most 2010 sense of it all.
Whenever I'm done writing, I realize that -like when I teach- I'm glad to realize that it makes me joyful. And, unlike teaching, when I write I feel complete. I like knowing that I get to be in my desk, sit in my pink chair (or purple sofa), drink a very sweet coffee and for a few hours, be with myself in the happiest form I can be.
*
There are places of my apartment and my workplace that I rarely go by. In my house is the living room. I rarely watch tv there, and I rarely go into my husband's office. I just don't find those spaces inviting. The same goes to my workplace, albeit the reasons are different: I have to in specific places because that's the way those places are designed.
How one inhabits a space is an idea I keep coming back to since 2020. It all started when, in a class, my professor of that time discussed about how weird it was for all of us to be in quarantine, and now we had to find places where we could do stuff those spaces were meant for, but not really. That made me think that we set up spaces to be livable, but we rarely live in them.
We decorate the spaces to reflect us. This is a theory, but to me is almost a fact: we reflect who we are through aesthetic and that reflects in the way we decorate (or try to) the spaces we inhabit. It's not just about furniture and pictures and carpets and chairs, it's something much more dense. It's how we make a space a place we can inhabit.
An aesthetic theory actually focuses on this, on the way we decorate our spaces not only from an utilitarian aspect, but from a livable perspective. I enjoy watching spaces that are impolute, minimalist, frugal. White spaces, or spaces with only one or two colors, that some describe as oasis or a refugee. The words to desribe those spaces feels like pepople can be in those spaces but can you live in them? The best example was when Architetcural Design did some editorial work on Kim Kardashian's mansion. A lot of people made jokes, I thought can the kids even play there? I don't think you can describe those spaces as cozy. Clean, simple, elegant, clear, rigid, squared, yes- cozy is a word that -I think- makes us think of spaces that are livable, inhabited by people.
Inhabiting our spaces depends not only in how safe we feel, how comfortable we are. As the internet has become this thing we can only access by seeing what others want to show us -whether we want it or not-, our inhabited spaces look very similar (at least from where I am, I want to firmly believe not a single soul fucks around the decoration of a Nigerian household). It also has to do with how much money we have to decorate those spaces, how those objects make those spaces ready to be inhabit. The reason why I don't spend time in my living room is because I have a sofa that my husband doesn't want to get rid off, a library that he also doesn't want to get rid off and I can't set up the tv the way I want because I'm too lazy (and broke) to put it in the wall the way I want it. It's not a space I want to be but my husband loves laying on the sofa (that cracks his back and ribs), and rise his head every now and then to look at the library and say "oh this is nice" (it's not, but marriage is about accepting if you can't change it, you gotta accept it). Inahbiting spaces is not an experiencial thing, it's also related to objects, to what things we put outisde, that we want others to see, that reflects who we are. Which is why I find so disheartening when the internet tells us that are our spaces should be frugal, minimalist, simple, almost bare.
Who can inhabit such lonely place?
*
Sometimes I feel the taste of tobacco in my mouth and I sigh. I miss smoking even though I know what it does. The last time I smoke I hurt my throat, which to smokes may seem impossible, but the sore pain I had I haven't forgotten it.
The other day, as I was walking by the street, a guy who was smoking literally blew the smoke in my face. He apologized and I said something like don't worry, but I remembered that scene from Friends, where Chandler goes to visit Rachel in her new office and he smokes the cigarrette of Rachel's new boss. It's hilarious, but honestly, I almost did that.
*
As I type this, I realize that what I wanted to write originally was about friendship and the struggle I currently have, trying to let myself be open to others.
But, just like I do with people, I will ghost the need to express my worries and fears. Taylor Swift wrote this song about how, during her longest tour to date, where she sings 44 songs for 3 hours, for over a year, she was able to mend her broken heart, get a fling (and get flung), get a boyfriend, and release a bunch of albums and win awards. She did it to prove (herself, I hope) she could do it, which I guess is the main message of I can do it with a broken heart. She's also turning 35, albeit in November.
I, too, can do it with a broken heart. I break my heart by not letting people in. Yet I live. I can do it.
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underthetree845 · 1 year ago
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ask game
😅✍🛒🛠💖👀🤗
Hello darling! Thank you for the ask (<3)
😅 (What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?)- God, um, I have this one x reader thing I wrote, and it was the very first piece of fanfiction I ever came up with. I wrote it in eighth grade (T-T). It wasn't super terrible and I didn't say "orbs" instead of eyes even once, I just kind of didn't know what I was doing. No planning took place, it was just a little forced, but I'm kind of proud of myself for just getting it out. It was an Armin/fem reader thing where they were going to a party dance thing and there was a confession. Kind of like a less evolved version of my recent masquerade fic, actually. I guess I enjoy writing dancing. I know I was young and everything but I'm so thankful that I hadn't figured out that I could actually post on fanfiction websites yet, I kept writing and thankfully (at least I believe/hope) that I got better. ✍ (Do you have a beta reader?)- I do not. I'm not against it or anything, I just don't. I do have this one friend that I send e v e r y t h i n g I write to though, albeit after it's published because she's not really an experienced writer (not that she's bad, just not the right person to ask for feedback). She's even read that dance fic I mentioned in the previous question.
🛒 (What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.)- Mutual pining is a big one for me 😭. Whether it's friends to lovers (which is what I mostly write), strangers to lovers, enemies, coworkers, etc. etc. there will always be mutual pining at some point. Even if one has had feelings for longer and I depict the growth of the other's feelings (which I find really interesting). Also- random- but I feel like hand holding/focus on hand touches is always a light thing I find myself wanting to incorporate. Not sure why.
🛠 (What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?)- I like to use google docs. It syncs to my phone too so I can write on the way to school or in public if I'm bored, stuff like that. Straight up writing in the tumblr drafts scares me, it's too easy to delete O.o. I oftentimes keep one doc for notes (if it's a longer fic) and write the fic separately. Fun fact though, when I started out, I was actually using the notes app on my phone. That didn't last long, but I still have my first few unpublished 8th grade fics on there.
💖 (What made you start writing?)- Okay so what made me REALIZE that I liked writing was my English classes in school. I've always been a bookworm- ever since I was a little kid- so it was amazing to me that I was able to create stories and show them to people in the same way real authors could. So middle school me loved doing creative writing assignments, I always went way over the wordcount, I loved reading books, etc. etc. Eventually I start getting into fandom, and through internet browsing, I come across fanfiction for the first time. I have to say, it kind of blew my mind. It's hard to explain that I never really stopped reading as much as I did in middle school and elementary school, I just read a lot more ~digital works by unpublished authors~ now (and I still do read books, I'm currently reading Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson and I love it). The rest I kind of already explained. I tried my hand at it for awhile in the notes app, eventually made an account, read, liked, etc., started posting, and the rest is history. :)
👀 (Tell me about an up and coming wip please!)- *Rubs hands together.* Okay, so: First of all, I'm ALMOST, almost I swear! I'm almost done with the next chapter for my ongoing fic. I'll probably post it sometime next weekend (I don't know if you follow it but there's that). I'm currently working on a Dazai oneshot with the pocky game (you know what that is, right?) And then someone sent me a jealous Chuuya request which I plan on completing after my other two wips since they won't take long.
🤗 (What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?)- EEEE! Okay okay!
Dear new writers, WE ARE SO HAPPY TO HAVE YOU HERE. Please don't be shy! Reach out, interact, share your work (if you want to) and there will be people who say hello back! Remember, don't compare yourself to other writers. We all started at some point. We all had a first post, we all make mistakes, we're all human. On that note, don't beat yourself up about making it perfect! Getting out a first draft is a great first step. It can include notes, errors, run on sentences, and that's fine because it's a draft! You do not have to be perfect, none of us are. Do not feel bad about not having the time to write, or even if you do have the time but lack the energy. Take care of yourself first always! Remember to have confidence in yourself. You created something that wasn't there before and put it out into the world and it's a story and it's yours and that is amazing in every aspect. Don't give up on yourself, take care of yourself, be kind to yourself, and you will slowly but surely find your place in the writers' community! <3
Thank you again for the asks! I hope all of you sleep well tonight. <33
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id0ntkn0w0101 · 2 years ago
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Top 5 Writing Tips for Depressed People
As a certified depressed person. I am not a professional writer, I am just a person who likes to write but am also depressed. These are my tips and tricks for doing better at writing without hating myself
1 - Try to channel every mood into writing.
Wake up in a bad mood because you're pissed at someone? Write about your character being pissed at someone. Depression kicking your ass? Write about your character's mental illness or emotional struggle. Manage to have a rare, good day? Maybe give your character a bit of a reprieve from the conflict and let them have a relaxing day with their friends and/or lover. And if these don't fit into the place you are in in your book, don't worry, because...
2 - Don't force yourself to write linearly.
Don't force yourself to write according to a strict "this then that then this then that" timeline. If you have an idea for a scene at the end of your slow burn romance where the two characters finally kiss, then write that scene. Writing is always going to be easier if you write what you want to write when you want to write it instead of just hoping it'll be there when its finally time for that scene to pop up. I know I can never remember scene ideas, even if I outline them beforehand. My "scene plans" end up being so elaborate so I don't forget anything that I basically end up writing the actual scene anyway.
3 - Lower your expectations for your first draft.
Don't expect your first draft to make your writing sound like a finished book you'd pick up at Barnes&Noble. The books there are likely, at minimum, a 3rd draft. Most bigger authors who work with a publisher even have an editor that reads over everything and recommends corrections. A huge part of the writing process isn't even writing, it's rewriting. It's realizing, "Wait this line of dialogue seems really similar to that one my favorite author wrote, I should change it." or "Wait her hair was brown in the last scene and now its blonde. Does she dye her hair a lot like Ramona Flowers or do I need to correct it." The goal when writing is not to write in a "them" way. That is, writing in a similar style to authors you like. Every writer, whether a seasoned NaNoWriMo veteran or a middle schooler with a dream, has their own writing voice and style. You can, of course, take inspiration from another writer's style, but if you completely try to change your own, your writing will feel hollow and manufactured rather than alive and full.
4 - Know yourself!
Every person is different, and depressed people still fit in that category. Know if you are the kind of person that functions better if you schedule time every day to do something, or if you work better when you just let yourself do things in their own time. Apply that knowledge to your writing. I, for instance, work better if I write as soon as I have the idea, so planning time out to try to write won't work for me because I'll be hit with Blank Screen syndrome. However, I also have a tendency to get stuck in my own head and need to force myself to at least try to write every single day. Know who you are and how you function best, because nobody is going to tell you for you.
5 - Don't reread stuff until you get to a good stopping point.
Unless you just forget a character's name or appearance or something, don't reread your work until, bare minimum, you get to the end of that section of the book. I guarantee if you do, you will hate a lot of it and just end up starting over. If you can avoid it, don't even reread it until you finish the first draft or are lightly editing it to post somewhere like I do. Even then, I just turn on spell check or grammar check and click through it correcting mistakes I made without really reading the words around them. If you focus too much on what you've already written, you'll get too tied up in editing things and you won't ever get new words and scenes on the page. If, like me, you have a tendency to forget little things about fantasy mechanics or character or setting appearances, write down little blurbs about those things in a seperate document or in your notes app and come back to it later on when you need a reminder. Your notes don't need to be perfectly written, so you won't be too bothered with editing them.
I hope you all enjoyed this list and hopefully get some clarity or inspiration from it. If anyone has any other tips, please share them. If you'd like to read my own writing, I have my current WIP FIRST DRAFT posted both on this tumblr and on ao3 called Of Dreams and Fury. Have a great day!
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zickzackschere · 1 year ago
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How it is to be the sidecharacter
the following post is a text i´ve just found in my drafts. I apparently wrote it when i was 23, so that was 2 years ago. Crazy. It`s just as raw and pure as it contains a good amount of spelling mistakes. My brain and fingers work too fast and i don`t care enough to correct it, even though i know where i did mistakes. Whatever I`m losing myself here, i just wanted to post this sweet treasure of a draft. I wonder why i never published it. Time to change that now.
Love can be like a drug. Like a really strong one. probably the strongest one there is on earth, worst case deadly too. i realized love and hate are more related than it seems in the beginning. first it sucks u up completely your consuming, find yourself in the state of ecstasy. but as every good drug we know that the effects dont last forever. you will sober up and realize the aftermaths very soon. I loved a lot the last 1 1/2 years, heck yeah i loved a lot in my entire life-. I am a real loving person. i love love. its pure, its endless, its as undescribable as intangible. You get lost in it, you swim in the sweet waters of love as long as your breath doesnt get short and your arms get sore, as long as you just float and go with the flow everything is fine. but there must be an interruption because nothing lasts forever- not even existence itself.  so we just wait for the next turning point, we know there will be one-.
Maybe im just in my cynic tumblr blogger mood again but if tumblr is good for one thing, than its that i can write whatever i want , not having the feeling i get watched by people i know or i care about.
so how it is being a sidecharcter you ask yourself as you read that catchy title? I know it has a taste of self pity but give me that moment.
I’m 23. Im bad at staying focused. i am good at loving people. i am bad at keeping things organized. i am good at listening. i am bad at taking care of myself sometimes. i am good at giving advice to other people. I am bad at fulfilling expectations. I am good at forgiving.
im sick of being the one whos just here to therapy people. Im not perfect myself, need a lot to learn still. i dont want to sound like that but it must be said.
im sick of playing the motherrole, being responsible, taking things in my own hand and doing things for other people- especially for my partners. i dont want to carry them on my hands until im on the ground with no energy left for myself to walk. sick of it. done with it. im sick of doubting myself. im great. im good. i deserve the same love that i give. i deserved to be carried for a while.
Where is my selflove? i mean im a little responsible for it too, i rather take care of other people than myself.
nobody likes you when youre 23. I guess there i have it. except that nobody is just me.
But 2022 is the year of the tiger and the year i turn 24-my lucky number.
i would say thats enough for me said that it will be a good year. doesnt say that the actual year is crap, but maybe a year full of lessons. as every damn one. the fuck im even talking i really dont know anymore.
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writingwithcolor · 3 years ago
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What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?
@luminalalumini said:
I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))
We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:
PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 
We have answered this in three parts.
1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions
Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:
When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.
And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 
I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.
Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.
It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.
And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.
I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.
We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.
I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 
It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.
Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.
~Mod Lesya
2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"
You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?
Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 
--Shira
3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor
I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.
It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:
What material do you want the outfit to be made of?
Where do you plan to wear it?
What do you want to highlight?
How do you want to feel when you wear it?
Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.
The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”
Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.
I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.
The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.
Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”
What kind of sad person has time for that?*
Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”
Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.
- Marika.
*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.
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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago
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Million Dollar Man | Chapter Five
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summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.
Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, handcuffs, thigh fucking, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, vibrators, dirty talk, dom spencer
word count: 4.6K
a/n: updates on Wednesdays and Saturdays
Chapter Five | Masterlist
He’s ripped from a peaceful slumber by his work phone ringing on the night table. Y/N asleep on his chest, he tries to reach for it without waking her, successfully he answers with a groggy whisper, “hello?”
“Morning sleepy head?” Emily laughs, “it’s 10 am, Reid, why are you whispering?”
“I’m with my girlfriend, she’s still asleep,” he realizes he’s never told the team flat out that he was seeing someone, they all guessed but none of them had really asked.
“Oh,” Emily seems just as shocked that he said it. “We have a local case, I need you here for the geo profile and then you can go back to your mandated break.”
“I’ll be in, in 30,” he replies before hanging up.
“Can I come?” She whispers against him, obviously awake from all the commotion.
“Sure,” he shrugs, “if you don’t mind seeing and hearing about whatever horrific thing happened this time.”
“I don’t,” she sits up and stretches, “come on Mulder, we’ve got a case to crack.”
He laughs, “sure thing Scully.”
He’s nervous in the elevator on the way up to the BAU, Y/N on the other hand is so excited she’s practically vibrating. She’s dressed for the part, with her little visitor's badge and Spencer’s hand held tightly in her own, she basically drags him towards the bullpen when the doors open.
“Spence!” Luke calls for him, Tara and Matt turn around with big smiles to see him. “Who’s this?”
“Uh,” Spencer swallows sharply, “this is my girlfriend, Y/N this is Luke, Matt and Tara.”
She lets go of his hand to shake theirs, he watches as they all smile and introduce themselves to her, causing the rest of the team to notice the new person in the room and rush over. They have a lot of questions, they’re all very surprised she’s as young as he was when he started at the bureau and that he’s actually bringing her around.
When he finds out what’s going on, he’s really glad he brought her in. There’s been a few bomb threats in D.C, one of which is the building across from Y/N’s apartment. They’re trying to keep hysteria to a minimum, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to tell her if he didn’t bring her, he also knows he would have broken protocol to get her out of there.
She sits at his desk while he works, looking through all his things for a while before Spencer hears a familiar voice in the bullpen. Penelope was called in for backup, making eye contact with Y/N as soon as she walked in and cheering. “Oh! You’re here!”
Spencer leaves the briefing room, abandoning the geo-profile to introduce Penelope to the girl she helped him find, he runs down the stairs and wraps his arms around her.
“Spencer,” she relaxes into his embrace and holds him close, “I’ve missed you so much.”
When Spencer pulls away, the smile on his face is remarkable, “Penelope, this is Y/N,” he says her name and Penelope automatically knows who she is.
He told her right after he bought her whole Wishlist, Penelope has known about her the longest and yet she’s never been able to meet her. She turns to Y/N with a smile, “are you a hugger?”
Y/N stands and wraps her arms around her, “I think I owe you a very big thank you,” she whispers in Penelope’s ear.
“For what?”
“Teaching grandpa over here how to use the internet,” she teases him, “and for your helpful tips, he was the nicest one I met on there.”
“You’re very welcome,” Penelope pulls back with another smile, holding Y/N’s face in her hands, “and thank you.”
Y/N pulls her into another hug and now everyone is watching, Spencer knows he’s going to be bombarded with questions eventually but for now, Y/N is going with Penelope to her office and Spencer has a map to look at while he stresses himself out.
Matt, Tara and Emily head to the scene to join JJ, Rossi and Will, leaving Luke with Spencer in the briefing room.
“Can I ask?”
Spencer nods, “go ahead.”
“How did you meet her? Was she one of your students?”
He doesn’t know how to answer, not because he’s ashamed of it or of her, rather because he doesn’t know if she’ll want people to really know. “Penelope helped me get online to meet people, I made an account on a sugar daddy website thinking it would be easier to pay someone who doesn’t know me to hang out rather than try and make a new friend.”
“That’s smart,” Luke nods along as he listens. “She seems really cool.”
“She’s the best,” he smiles. “She’s really smart and talented, she’s an author actually, her books coming out in January.”
“I’ll have to get a copy,” Luke smiles right back.
“Her publisher and I have actually planned a big birthday party slash final draft party, if you and the team want to come and have drinks and get to know her more, that would be really nice,” Spencer offers, knowing it’s about time they all celebrated something together.
“I’d love to come, and I’ll bring Penelope,” Luke’s just as excited as he is.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know already, being with Penelope and everything?”
He shrugs, “we don’t talk about work or really gossip about the team now that she’s not working here, it makes her a little sad that she left but she’s doing a lot better just coming in occasionally.”
“I didn’t think I’d like my months off at first, either, but now I’m also debating leaving,” he knows it's a lie. He’s already written his letter of recognition, he’s just waiting for the go-ahead from Y/N that they’re moving to California.
“16 years is a really long time to be doing this job,” he agrees, “I’m sure if you wanted to leave the bureau would offer you your full retirement package early, given everything you’ve been through for this country.”
Spencer nods, “don’t let this job take your spark, you’re very wonderful, Luke, and I’d hate to see you lose it for the greater good.”
“My greater good is just down the hall,” he smirks, “I make the world a better place for the woman I love, she’s the reason I get up every day and come to work because I can’t wait to get home to her safely.”
Luke has always loved Penelope, it’s been very obvious, and yet she didn’t want really anything to do with him until Derek advised her to be nice. She was so busy thinking about all her other babies leaving the nest after Derek that she didn’t take the time to consider bringing in Luke to the nest for warmth and love as well.
“When are you asking her to marry you?”
Luke turns bashful, a slight blush on his cheeks as he stares at the table, “Christmas, it’s her favourite time of the year.”
“Have you talked to Derek?” Spencer only worries slightly, after what happened with Kevin he doesn’t want to see it happen to Luke.
“Nope, I’ve talked to her brothers though, we’re going to California again this year for Christmas and they all said they’d love to have me in the family,” Luke smiles, “the Garcias are my favourite.”
Spencer isn’t normally a hugger but he walks around the table and wraps Luke up, “I’m asking Y/N in a week.”
“No way?”
He nods, “she’s the greatest good I’m ever going to get.”
“Amen, brother.”
Penelope’s job was incredible, she was in awe as she watched her tap away at her keyboard and answer a million and one questions. She reminded her of Ned from Kim Possible and she knew if she said that to anyone she’d give away just how young she is.
She’s gotten a lot of looks, she knows people are talking about it and yet she doesn’t really care. There isn’t any malice behind the stares and the whispers, they all seem genuinely surprised that Spencer has a girlfriend over the fact she’s in her 20’s.
There’s a single dull moment and she turns to Y/N, “can I please have the juicy details, please,” she begs and it makes her feel giddy.
She’s never really had any girlfriends like this, and she certainly didn’t have anyone to tell about Spencer. “He’s the love of my life, I’m completely serious.”
Penelope squealed, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, ugh this is so exciting! Are you guys serious? How long has it been?”
She nods, “not long, uh he got me this necklace a week or two ago and we’ve been moving pretty slow for his sake. In the last 10 months he’s become my bestie and I’ve convinced him to move in and he sleeps in my bed now and I love waking up beside him… he’s a real gentleman.”
“That’s good, he’s never been able to take the scenic route in life… I know you’re only here cause he trusts you and if he trusts you that means you know everything and if you know ever—“
“Yeah,” she cuts her off, “I know about all of it and everyone who’s hurt him and how he’s hurt himself but what’s more important is that it doesn’t phase me, he’s just a person trying to deal with the life he’s been given, we all are.”
Penelope wraps her up in a gentle hug, “he’s always needed someone like you.”
It makes her heartbreak just a tiny bit thinking about how as long he didn’t have anyone. Sure, he was surrounded by his friends at work and loved enough that they all brought him back home but he was never cared for the way she would have done it. There’s a weird maternal instinct that comes over her with Spencer and she knows exactly why, all she knows is she wants to love him and care for him for the rest of his life.
If she lives to be 100, she hopes he lives to be 116, because there isn’t a day she wants to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside her.
She’s not going to cry in Penelope’s arms after just meeting her so she pulls back with a smile, “but what kind of juicy details are we talking? Cause I can’t embarrass him too bad…”
Penelope’s laugh is evil as she rubs her hands together, “a little birdie whose name rhymes with shmerek said he knows how to use that mouth for more than just talking…”
It makes her laugh almost a little too hard and she starts to feel her face heat up, she simply nods, “yeah, we haven’t gone all the way but from what’s happened so far, I can agree.”
Penelope turns in her rolling chair and laughs, “ugh that’s so great, I’m glad you’re having a good time— I mean I always thought Spencer would be good in bed after all the chats we’ve had about kinks and shit, he’s really educated, obviously, but I always knew that it would translate from paper to real-life very easily.”
“Oh totally,” she nods feverishly, “we talked about that before actually, virginity is simply a construct used to control women and make them feel pure or dirty, to feel like they can take something from a woman and yet virgins are so sexual and in tune with their needs and wants that they typically are good or at least know what to do from whatever porn they’ve consumed when it comes down to it. How the more in tune with someone's sexuality that they are the better they are in bed because they apply what they want to their partner and almost get off more on the fact someone is enjoying them than the fact they’re being pleasured.”
Penelope shakes her head with a loving smile, “you listen when he talks, you love every part of him and you’re beautiful… he really hit the jackpot.”
She brushes it off with a laugh, “I got pretty lucky with him too.”
Her phone rings before she can agree, answering with a cheerful tone, Spencer is on the other end, “do you have my beautiful girlfriend with you still?”
“Present,” she answers for herself, “are you still here, dad-Spence?”
She bites her lip and closes her eyes, fuck.
“Yeah, uh, I am, we think we got the actual building with the bomb, they’ve sent the team down there to clear it and check it out.”
“I’ll head back to the bullpen, then,” she stands and heads to the door, not wanting to face Penelope after almost calling him daddy right in front of her.
“Hey,” she calls to Y/N, “don’t be embarrassed. I get it, believe me, I’ve answered some calls in here with the dirtiest remarks to the completely wrong people. But, I’ll see you later?”
She smiles, “yeah, I’d love to see you again.”
In the bullpen, Spencer’s by his desk all alone. His teams cleared out and now it was just the office staff wandering around. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back, “ready to go home?”
“Uh, not yet…” he turns to look at her, “I don’t want to bring you back to D.C unless the case is closed.” He looks nervous and she understands it perfectly.
“Okie Dokie, she smiles, leaning in for a hug to get close to his ear, “can we fuck in a storage closet to pass the time?”
He laughs but he takes her hand and he pretends to take her on a tour, he leads her down the hall and towards the filing room where he knows no one will be. “No one has really used this room in ages, since we went digital, and Penelope had all this stuff put online anyway.”
“So you can bend me over that table and rail me next time we come back?”
“Or?” She hears his playful tone and smirks to herself, letting him manhandle her hands behind her back as he bends her over a table, “I could fuck these big beautiful thighs of yours?”
“So only you can get off? Please,” She scoffs at him, wanting to piss him off to see where it gets her, wiggling her ass back against him as she does so.
He unbuttons her pants and drags them down her legs to leave her in just her thong, taking a handful of her ass and squeezing before laying a hard slap against her, she gasps at the feeling but also at the fact it was so loud.
“They’re going to hear you?!” She whispers with a disappointed tone.
“Isn’t that what you said you wanted? You wanted everyone to know only daddy can take care of you?” He uses her own words against her and she whines. “That’s what I thought.”
“No, but seriously,” she turns her head to look at him, “check my pocket.”
He does exactly that, finding one of her little bullet vibes in the front pocket of her jeans, “you planned this?”
“I knew we’d be having some kind of sex somewhere in this building,” she smirks. “Also my safe word is red but keep going.”
“Alrighty, then,” she can hear the smirk on his face as he thinks it over.
He takes his handcuffs out of his back pocket and cuffs her, “you know, it’s public indecency looking like this in here, technically it’s a federal offence and it’s my duty as a federal officer to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
She swallows sharply, pushing back against his groin and gasping when her bare asscheek meets the cold metal of his gun in his holster. Sometimes she forgot he was a real FBI agent, sometimes it didn’t feel real to her because he was just her nerdy boyfriend and he never had any of his "cop props" with him… suddenly they weren’t just accessories to her anymore, he was actually a cop who just bent her over a table and cuffed her and now he’s going to fuck her "big beautiful thighs" as he called them.
“What’s the sentence, agent?” She plays along because damn he’s hot like this.
He presses his chest to her back as he leans in close to her ear, “It’s doctor, and you know that.”
He turns on the vibrator and rests it inside her underwear, right against her clit at the lowest setting, her thighs twitch at the feeling and all she wishes is that she had something to hold on to.
She whines again when she hears his belt buckle dangle and his zipper open, he grips his cock at the base and drags the head between her cheeks before slipping between her things with a sigh, “and it’s taking my time, you’re just going to have to, rather impatiently, deal with it.”
“Yes, doctor,” she closes her eyes and waits for the feeling of his cock between her legs but he doesn’t push in.
He places his feet on either side of hers so that she can't open her legs any further and finally, finally breaches her thighs. He groans at the drag of his cock against her skin as the vibrations from her panties continue to make her legs quake. She lets out a shaky breath and reaches for his shirt as he presses against her once more. Grabbing his tie instead, she pulls on it and he gasps for air.
“Sorry,” she mumbles with a smirk, not sorry at all for slightly choking him as she continues to hold his tie.
He swats her hands away from his tie and grips the cuffs to separate her hands, pushing them further up her back until it’s almost uncomfortable. The most uncomfortable thing about this was the fact he wasn’t inside of her, she felt so empty as she clenched around nothing. The stimulation on her clit was nice, the feeling of him taking her from behind is ungodly and yet he’s not in her. It’s the worst punishment in the whole world.
It was nowhere near enough to get her off and he knew that she wanted so much more that she wasn’t going to get, whining as he kept his thrusts at the same slow pace. It was agonizing, she squeezed her legs together more to tease him but he ended up liking it. There was nothing she could do for more, she was just going to have to let him take her, and that thought was what brought her closer.
“Please?” She begged, sounding just as desperate as she thought she would and not giving a single fuck.
“Please what?” He snaps his hips against her just a bit harder with each thrust.
She gasps again before biting her lip to hold back a moan, “finish in my mouth?” She begs once more, “please?”
He pulls off of her and yanks her off the table, turning her around, she drops to her knees without being told and opens her mouth immediately. He grips her by her hair and guides her towards his cock, slipping it past her lips and right down her throat.
He groans at the feeling, she closes her eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of his heavy cock in her mouth. Taking him more forcefully than ever before, he’s too caught up in the moment to realize he might be a little too rough but she also doesn’t mind. Breathing through her nose to stay calm she takes him as far as she can, pressing her nose to his pubes he can feel how hot her breath is as she struggles to breathe.
“Such a good girl,” he pulls her off so she can breathe for a moment, “you want my cum so bad don’t you?”
“Yes please, daddy,” she replies with a rasp in her voice that makes it obvious where he’s been.
She takes him in her mouth once more, sucking earnestly to get him closer and closer to the edge. He’s whining, pulling her hair and doing everything in his power not to thrust against her face, even though she’s okay with it.
She knows when he’s close because his cock always twitches in the same spot, it’s a tell-tale sign that he’s going to cum in a second. She applies more suction, running her tongue along the underside before taking him all the way once more just in time for him to cum right down her throat with each swallow.
He’s not quiet, anyone walking past the door will hear him panting and gasping, muttering good girl under his breath, he’s more fucked out by this blow job than she’s ever made him before. She can’t help but smirk as he pulls away and leaves her there on her knees, covered in spit and drool and unable to wipe her own mouth due to the fact she’s still fucking handcuffed.
She rests against his shoe, pressing the vibrator against her clit a little more, she twitches at how good it feels but it’s still not enough to get her off, and a part of her doesn’t want to.
He pulls her up to her feet and sits her down on the table he was just pretending to fuck her against. He attempts to spread her legs and get between them but she stops him, “leave the vibe where it is and let’s just go home?”
“You want to walk out of this building with a vibrator in your panties, and say goodbye to my co-workers and friends knowing you could cum anytime?”
She smirks, “yes, but I won't cum cause this pathetic toy isn’t as good at you.”
He clicks the button to turn it up a speed and she gasps, pushing against the feeling and moaning into it, “I’d like to see you try that.”
He takes her on the rest of the “tour” with that vibrator in her panties, she’s getting more and more flustered the more they look around. Eventually, he shows her the library, getting her alone in the back corner where he can talk to her without the risk of people knowing what’s going on.
“I can’t,” she whines as he presses her against the shelves, “please?”
“Please what?”
“Turn it off, daddy, I can’t take it anymore,” she grips his suit jacket tightly as she looks up at him with the eyes he can’t say no to.
“Mmm,” he hums, reaching into her pants to free her from the stimulation, she relaxes finally. “What do you think you deserve now?”
“Don’t wanna cum till we’re at home,” she whispers, “but you’ll have to make it quick because we have a flight to catch at 8.”
“Fuck,” he whispers like he forgot. “I hope we can get back into the apartment in time.”
“Why?”
“The bomb was in the basement of the building beside yours,” he admits and the whole facade fades, “that’s why I’m not taking you home yet.”
“That’s why you wanted to fuck me,” she whispers with a giggle. “You could have at least told me this was a ‘you almost died’ rush for you.”
“I didn’t want to say it like that,” he admits and a depression washes through his blood, he feels the low settle as he drops, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she takes his face in her hands and makes him look her in the eyes, “I love you, I’m glad we’re both safe. Everything in there is replaceable, you and me aren’t. This is a really good thing, Spencer.”
He nods, doing what she’s told him so many times she wants him to do, telling her his thoughts so that he’s no longer haunted alone, “when I told my friend Derek about you, he said dating a younger woman means I’ll never have to worry about you dying of old age before me. That’s one of his fears being the same age as Savannah, but I’ve lost so many people I never even thought about getting old with you I’ve just wanted to keep this version of you safe and with me forever.”
“Penelope said she always wished you’d find someone like me, and my only thought was If I live to be 100, I hope you live to be 116 because there isn’t a day I want to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside me,” he whispers with a smile, “but now I’m thinking if you live to be 100, I don’t want to go past 84.”
“You can’t say that,” he whispers, tears bubbling in his eyes, “what if I die tomorrow? I need to know you’re going to be fine and not end your wonderful existence because I’m not here anymore. You’re too wonderful to put all your worth on me.”
She doesn’t want to cry, she already looks like she’s been fucked and now she’s a mess, she pulls him into a kiss so he’ll stop talking and they can just be together, it was hard enough for her thinking he was going to die eventually, let alone him hypothesizing dying tomorrow.
She rests her forehead against his, “we always do this.”
“What?”
“It’s like orgasms open the emotions or something,” she snuffles which turns into a laugh, “do you think our kids are going to find it weird that you’re so much older than me?”
Everything takes him for a loop, “uh,” he struggles to find the words, pulling back and looking at her as her face drops, “I um—
“You don’t want kids anymore?” She looks genuinely saddened and he doesn’t know how to answer.
“I do,” he nods, “just—“
“Not with me?” She puts the words in his mouth.
“With you, just not yet,” he holds her by the shoulders, “I need more time with you before we have a kid, I need to love life and be in a good place and somewhere where I can focus all my attention on them, and I can’t yet.”
“I want a baby by 30,” she whispers before pressing her lips together awkwardly, “46 isn’t too old to be a dad, I’ve seen men become fathers at 80.”
He laughs as the anxiety leaves him, “a little California surfer baby wouldn’t be too bad.”
“Well, we fuck like rabbits, we might get there sooner than you planned,” she nudges him, “you’re a wonderful boyfriend, and if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stay my boyfriend for a little longer? I’m not ready to be a wife or a mom and change my name when I just got it put on a published book.”
“I’ll change mine to yours,” he replies like it's nothing, “or keep yours and we’ll hyphenate the kid's names.”
“It’s plural now?” She teases him once more.
“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” he assures her, “forever.”
“You’d pluck a star from the sky for me wouldn’t you, Doctor Y/L/N?”
He laughs at how it sounds but he kinda likes it. Her word choice is even funnier to him, however, because he’s actually gone out of his way to pluck a star for her. She has no idea, but her last present is a big one.
She struggled to get her own name on a book for so long, now there’s a star named after her, in the sky for everyone to see for the rest of time.
Permanent tag list:
@ssacalumsg0lden @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @anaagraceeberr
Sugar daddy fic
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svtskneecaps · 2 years ago
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i have stumbled upon a realization that is both terrifying and wonderful, and that is, that people actually like the writing i post on tumblr dot com.
and that is in equal measures terrifying and gratifying because on the one hand, i posted my shit for people to like my shit. that's it. i said, "here is this thing that i wrote to help me, perhaps it will help you, too"
but the other thing is, considering i've been posting writing semi-consistently online for the past 10 years of my life (god, ten!!), i eventually landed on the guilt-ridden decision that, due to my inconsistency and flights of passion, i CANNOT post a fic that i haven't finished. and this resolve has been somewhat strengthened by my discoveries in the process of writing one of my current (non-kpop) wips, since that one has taken a strategy of "write the bones, fill in the tissue" that usually leads to me rewriting the bones once the tissue fills in. the story is strengthened and i am so happy with the product i'm fleshing out, but it also means i can't post it serially until full completion, because i am SO TIRED of putting "discontinued" or "rewriting" on a published work. it makes me feel bad, like the rewritten plotlines are now forever muddled in a readers' mind, and they'll never be able to distinguish what happened in the less-good first version and the slightly-better second (or third, or fourth, or), or that i am discontinuing on some dissatisfying in-gratifying cliffhanger, because the lake in my mind is a grimy, half-formed sidewalk puddle online.
but i have not been able to finish a piece of writing for this blog. in a very long time. which is not to say i haven't been TRYING, just that. i rarely have an idea that just screams to be for seventeen, and when i do, it never makes it to full completion. in fact off the top of my head i can remember a pretty good (to me) introduction to a DK oneshot along the size and tonal lines of "you mean the world to me", along with about nine parts of the magical retrograde amnesia jeonghan sm au i pitched LONG ago, just after the final part of "i just see you" was uploaded, not to mention a full paragraph-style "home;run" inspired road trip au (no reader insert) that i've shared with some friends who ALSO thought it was a good idea, if i could just WRITE THE DAMN THING outside of the first two thrice damned sequences (i have THE ENTIRE PLOT fleshed out to the first of two potential climaxes, and yet no words have come)
SO I WANT TO ASK YOU, so i want to SCREAM INTO THE VOID, because there is a terrifying unquantifiable number of eyes in the followers tab of this blog and though i don't know how many of those accounts are still viable and how many are empty graves, i will yell these words into the dark and pray for an answer,
SHOULD I POST THESE DRAFTS, EVEN THOUGH THEY MAY NEVER BE FINISHED?
this blog has been dead for so long, too long, filled with personal posts and birds and bullshit, and maybe, perhaps, there is a chance that ANYONE showing renewed interest in my shit could finally fucking put the grind into my gears. because friends, it is entirely conceited perhaps to say that the semi-steady drizzle of likes drenching my notifications has turned numbing, that the last REAL COMMENT on any fic of mine came twenty one days ago and that the void feels endless, that despite the number of eyes in the shadows of this void, it feels empty, but unfortunately for us i am awake to the empty, because suddenly i was reminded that, for some fucking reason, people have enjoyed my shit. and i have been so terrified of giving something incomplete or imperfect that i have been giving nothing at all.
so i ask you, my loves, the mouthless eyes who wander here, SHOULD I POST MY DRAFTS, FOR YOU, WITH THE UNDERSTANDING I MAY NEVER FINISH THEM? and understand, friends, that this offer is for you as much as for me. because i miss validation and i crave it near constantly but i have taken my enjoyment from these works. they have lived in my drafts for years and could gather dust there longer, but IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM, IF YOU SWEAR TO ALERT ME TO THIS INCOMPREHENSIBLE FACT THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO ENJOY MY BULLSHIT, i could format and post what little shit i've got.
who knows. a single comment convinced me to finish walls could talk back in 2019. maybe lightning will strike twice.
as a bonus for reading this beast of a post, here is a screenshot of the aforementioned "retrograde amnesia curse" jeonghan fic, which i also sent to a few friends.
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thank you for reading. and also, thank you for tolerating me, inconsistent though i may be. it's really hard for me to quantify who's here and what they're thinking, which is terrifying in and of itself, but every time the curtain pulls back it seems to be a pleasant surprise from the other side (i mean, who knew there were people who purposefully read through a tag created specifically so those posts did not have to be read?)
technically speaking, there's no milestone fast approaching (i give it another year, at the pace we're walking). just, it was sort of shown to me tonight that there are people out there who, when asked, would list one of my works close to their top ten, off the top of their head. and that is crazy and humbling and gratifying and terrifying all at the same time.
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flyersheartbreaker · 3 years ago
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Forever By Your Side| Isaac Ratcliffe
a/n: this is my first imagine that I am officially publishing! I am very excited to share all of my writing content and series with you guys :)
Pair: Isaac Ratcliffe x reader
Summary: Watching your boyfriend Isaac get seriously hurt during one of his home games and watching him battle through the toughest injury a hockey player could battle, so he can continue on with dream playing in the NHL
Warnings: Hockey Injuries, Cussing, Cute Fluff
Word Count: 3,321 words
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It was just another ordinary Sunday afternoon watching a game live from the PPL center here in Allentown, Pennsylvania or so I thought. The game was going really well with the Phantoms up 3-1 on the Hershey Bears half way through the second period. There was your beloved star-studded boyfriend number 19 carrying the puck up against the boards through the neutral zone when suddenly bam everything went to complete silence, except for that shear sound that you wish you could so badly get out of you head.
I jumped out of my seat and darted up the stairs from the lower-level seats that I was sitting in with some of the other girlfriends. I can hear the god-awful scream ringing in my ears over and over again that was coming down from ice level. The crowd was silent, so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop and when that happens you know for a fact that it isn’t good. Nothing ever good comes from silence at a time like this and I needed to get down to the locker rooms as quick as possible.
Isaac got hit hard up against the boards and fell awkwardly down to the ground, and his right foot looked like it twisted the wrong way. He's had rough collisions before, but never like this. Isaac is a big dude that you surely didn’t want to ending up colliding with, but this time it looked like Isaac got the wrong end of the play. I never in my life ever heard him yell in absolute pain like the wat he was when the trainers and his teammates were trying to help his 6-foot-6 body off of the ice.
My heart was in my stomach as I was racing down the stairs that would lead me to the home locker rooms. I quickly flashed my team badge to the security guard Frank without saying a word. He must have known it wasn’t good either, as he told me to breathe and be careful myself as I jumped down the last few steps.
If Isaac had a season ending injury, it would kill him. He was just heating up and playing his best hockey yet and working his ass off day in and day out so he could eventually make the Flyers roster within this season or even next season for sure. But if his season is over that means his chances of getting to the NHL level could be too and that would just destroy him completely.
As soon as I rounded the corner to the trainer's office, I saw him being helped on to the examine table. His face was as red as a cherry, and he was in a lot of pain. The trainers quickly started icing the area the best that they could as they slowly untied his skate and too it off of him.
“He is definitely going to need some X-Rays done immediately and possibly an MRI as well depending on what the results of the X-Rays are.” The Phantoms trainer Brian Grogesky said to Neil who was one of the Phantoms physicians.
“Jeff and Robert are on their way down from the press box and getting the emergency X-Ray equipment ready. In the mean time you need to relax the best that you can Isaac.” Neil said to Isaac as Isaac tried his best laying down comfortably on the examine table.
Both Brian and Neil noticed me standing outside of the door of the trainer's room and signaled me to come on in, in hopes that Isaac could ease up and relax a little bit more with me by his side.
“Hello, y/n! Looks like we got a live one here and that big boy landed pretty hard on that ankle of his.” Brian said trying to make light of the situation.
Isaac sat up on his elbow and looked me dead in the eyes. I can see and feel the pan behind them, my heart sank even more for him. I just want him to be okay, I want him to be able to play the rest of this season, he worked way too fucking hard for this to happen to him.
“Hey babes, how is the pain?” I said walking over to Isaac and grabbing his hand while kissing him ever so lightly and carefully.
“It's a bitch babe if I am being honest. I’m trying not to think of the worst, but I can’t help it. This isn’t fair, why me? Why fucking me?” Isaac said in more frustration.
“Isaac, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We don’t know the actual results just yet. But whatever the outcome is you can come back from it stronger than ever. Hockey injuries is sometimes apart of the game as silly and stupid as it sounds, but you’re a fighter and you got this.” Neil said as he placed another bag of ice on Isaac’s ankle.
“They are right babe, your team trainers, physicians and any other doctors have your best interests. Let’s get you into the X-Ray room and then go from there okay big guy.” I said while planting another kiss onto Isaac’s lips.
Jeff brought in some crutches for Isaac to use, so they can take him down the hall to get the X-Rays taking care of. I am hoping that is all that Isaac is going to need and that whatever it is, it's a quick recovery.
After a few short minutes Isaac was crutching back out of the X-Ray room with a look of disappointment on his face.
“Oh no babe...how bad is it?” I asked him while he collects himself.
“It’s not broken...but they are sending me for an MRI early tomorrow morning to see if that shows up with anything and then go from there.” He said in a low tone.
“Well, that is a plus sign that it isn’t broken. You got to be positive about this honey, you need to be optimistic. You can't be negative. Everything is going to work out for the best. Hopefully it's just a minor sprain and you will be back on the ice in no time.” You told Isaac as you wrapped yourself around his side.
All of Isaac’s staff and trainers helped Isaac out of the arena and to his car and safety got him into the passenger seat while, I got into Isaac’s driver's seat.
“Alright, make sure when you get home you put more ice on that ankle for at least 15-20 mins on and then same time off. Do it throughout the night if you can and also, make sure you are using the crutches as much as possible and for the love of God Isaac do not put any pressure on that ankle until after we get the MRI results and see exactly what is going on. We don’t want to make the injury any worse than what it could already be. Try to get some much-needed rest and we will see you in the morning.” Brian said closing the passenger door.
The ride back to Isaac’s apartment complex was extremely quiet. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I just let Isaac sit there and pounder in his thoughts alone without me distracting him. Which probably wasn’t a good idea, because I know my boyfriend, I know for a fact that he is thinking the worst possible scenario that he could think of right now.
I helped Isaac out of the car and into the elevators up to his apartment and got him comfortably settled on the couch with his foot/ankle elevated and two ice packs placed on the injured area.
“Do you want or need anything? You want me to bring out another pair of comfy clothes for you?” You asked Isaac as you placed a pillow behind his head/back and placed a blanket right by him as well.
“No, I’m fine...” He whispered as scrolled on his iPad to rewatch the ending of the game and rewatch highlights and the moment of his injury.
You so badly, wanted to say something along the lines to him like "babe don’t be watching that now, it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing that you could have done to prevented that from happening, so on and on.” But deep down you knew nothing would make him feel better until he knew what the main results were. And as the night went on, you could see the realization hit him that this was going to keep him out for a while. He just looked sad, and drained.
After a couple of hours, another X-Ray, and an MRI later, you and Isaac were sitting there waiting in the trainer's office for the results from both the trainer and team doctors.
Both Brian and Jeff walk in with a folder which I assume held the test results for Isaac’s ankle/foot.
“Well, the good news is the second X-Ray that we took this morning once again showed that there was no brake in both the ankle and the foot.” Brian said.
“And what about the MRI? What did the MRI show?” Isaac asked nervously.
I grabbed Isaac’s hand and interlocked his fingers with mine. I could see the look on both Brian’s, Jeff’s, and even Coach Gordon’s face that this news that they are about to give doesn’t seem to be very promising.
Jeff cleared his throat ever so calmly and spoke. “The MRI came back with a high ankle sprain injury which means we really don’t have a timetable for you to return to at this point of time. This type of injury is extremely difficult to recover from quickly. So, with that being said we need to place you on injury reserve indefinitely until we get more of a clear view on this injury.”
“Out indefinitely...so that could mean that I might be done for the season?” Isaac ever so softly spoke.
“Unfortunately, yes Rat...I am so sorry and with it being late into the season already we don’t want to risk anything further and do anymore damage to the ankle. Brian, Jeff and myself all agreed on shutting you down for the remainder of this year. So, it’s better for you to take this time to heal carefully and properly and then eventually rehab it back to full strength without any other necessary tests or worse case scenario surgeries. Then once you have healed properly, we can train and get you back to 100 percent for next year's rookie and training camp.” Coach Scott Gordon said while looking at both Isaac and myself.
My heart broke ever so much for Isaac, this isn’t fair. I know injuries can be a part of the game sometimes, but why did this have to happen to Isaac and why now?! He has been killing it day in and day out since being drafted in 2017. He deserves his chance at playing at the NHL and now with this setback is he ever going to make it to that level?
The ride to Isaac’s apartment was once again a quiet one and this time I don’t blame him. I mean how is he supposed to react to something like this? What is he supposed to say or do when your head coach, trainer and team doctor shut you completely down for God knows how long.
Isaac settled down on the couch and tossed his crutches to side and unstrapped his high ankle boot so he can comfortably rest his ankle on the pillow in front him.
"Baby, I am so fucking sorry that is happening, it’s not right nor is it fair to you." I said, resting my head on his shoulder while getting cozy next to him.
"What if this is it for me? What if I can't play anymore after this?" He asks, eyes filling with tears.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't say that.  You being negative will only make that happen. You are a fighter Rat...you are one tough, strong as hell hockey player who will power through this. I promise you that." I said grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers together, while placing a kiss on his hand.
A tear rolls down his cheek ever so slightly. "All I wanted to do was be that excitement that both the Lehigh and Philly fans need. All I wanted ever so badly was to have my chance to make it to the NHL level and it got taken away from me. Why do bad things happen to good people?" Isaac asked broken and frustrated.
Once he started crying, I had lost it. Nothing I could do, or say would take that pain away from him and it just broke my heart. I went into the kitchen and I just cried as grabbed him more ice packs from the freezer. How am I supposed to look at the man that I love, and not have my heart shatter like glass when I look into those eyes that were once so shiny, and bright, but now shows nothing at all?  I have no idea the pain he is going through or the frustrating emotions he is now going through as well and I feel terrible.
I eventually collected myself and walked back out into the living room and ever so easily and softly place the ice packs on the injured area and took my seat back on the couch next to Isaac.
"That's the crappy thing about life.” I breathed as I took a deep breathe myself and continued on. “For some reason, it always attacks the good ones, and praises the hell out of the bad ones." I sob, wiping away not only my own tears but also his tears once again. "We'll get through this. I promise. It'll be hard, and it'll be long, but we're going to pull through this." I tell him as I run my hand through his hair.
He squeezes my other hand tightly. "What if during my time out things don’t get better and I need to get surgery, and it's worse than they thought? That could happen. What if they see that my injury is worse than what they thought and that I am out on the shelf even longer and I completely miss this upcoming season as well? Or worse they tell me that I can't do this anymore?" He asks, gasping for air. "I don't want that to happen and I'm scared to death that it will."
I snuggled beside him even more then I already was, resting my head on his chest, sobbing harder than I was before, because I honestly hate when he thinks that he isn’t good enough or he thinks his career is over because of a minor setback or in this case a possible major setback. "Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? Just for now, it's a bump in the road. No journey to greatness is a smooth one Isaac. Whatever the hell happens next, we'll face it together as a team, because I am not leaving your side and letting you fight this injury alone. I know that you so badly want to break and that you feel like this the end of the road, but you need to keep pushing and listen to the training staff and follow their instructions."
"I love you so much." He tells me, sniffling. "Thank you for helping me with this, baby, I couldn’t do this without you" Isaac said while planting a soft and slow kiss on my lips
"I'll help you through anything. No matter what." I said while smiling and kissing him softly back.
It was battle to get Isaac’s ankle back to a healthy, normal, and stable ankle for a hockey player at his height and weight but we were able to do it. It was a long road and journey until Isaac was back out on the ice skating again and preparing himself for this upcoming training camp season.
Isaac looked and felt good, until one day right before the Flyers condensed training camp something didn’t seem right with him.
Isaac met up with Flyers trainer Jim McCrossin and after a deep examination we found out that Isaac was suffering from a fractured rib and a collapsed lung. We don’t know how exactly this had happen or when it happened. It could have been from when he fell during his ankle injury or from being hit during Rookie Camp, we don’t have the answers right now. And once again, here I am watching my boyfriend being completely destroyed and devastated all over again.
Isaac became instantly depressed, and much worst this time around because he knew there was no chance of making the Flyers squad this season and who knew when he could lace up for the Phantoms season as well. But thank God for Jim McCrossin who helped Isaac get the right and special care that he needed and got him completely healthy so he could play for the rest of this Phantoms season as well.
Isaac was getting game day dressed for a home game here in Allentown. I sat on the bed and watched/admire him as he fixes his tie in the mirror.
"Try not to worry about tonight so much baby, you are going to absolutely kill it out there like always. Once you get out on that ice, I have no doubt in my mind you will play just like how you used to before all of these setbacks. And just remember that no matter how easy, or how hard tonight’s game is going to be I'll be here for you always. But also, please promise me one thing, that if you don’t feel right to let your staff know immediately because I never want to see you get hurt like this again.” I said walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso.
"I promise babe, I know that I need to take my health more seriously and whatever happens, happens. One day I will make my dream a reality and officially play in the NHL, but for the time being I got to focus on the now and my health." He said as he spun around and kissed me.
Watching Isaac warm up made my heart race and beat fast. But it was all worth seeing him back out there skating with the team and his boys. He looked so good and happy out on the ice and that is all that I could ever ask for.
The journey was extremely hard and long this past summer and fall for both Isaac and I, but in the end it definitely made us a stronger unit in our relationship and it has totally made Isaac a stronger hockey player both physically and mentally.
After the game, I bolted down to the locker room this time excitedly to see my boyfriend, not in a complete shear panic like last time and waited for Isaac to come out after he was done with the media.
The door swung open and I immediately saw Isaac and jumped right into arms like a little high school girl. “Babeee, you were beyond amazing tonight! I am so very proud of you, how are you feeling?” I asked nervously but giddy at the same time.
Isaac picked me up and kissed me ever so passionately before answering any of my questions that I just threw at him. “I felt good and still feel good. It was awesome to be back out on that ice again playing with the boys in front of our home crowd, their excitement and energy helped out a lot. But truthfully, I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n. I love you so much and I can’t wait to continue this amazing hockey journey with you right by myside.”
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nanowrimo · 3 years ago
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I Published My NaNo-Novel: How 50,000 Words Boosted “Bear Boy”
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The path to publishing a novel isn’t always easy. Today, Justin Barker, author of the novel Bear Boy, offers some insight on making difficult decisions, both in writing and in life:
“You have 12 hours to live.” A drum starts to beat like a heart and quickens.  “What would you say?” my yoga instructor asks, “Who would you want to see? What are your regrets?” It was day 40 of a yoga retreat, and tears streamed down my face as I scribbled my thoughts, but there was one I couldn't get off my mind. It was a regret: that I had never helped another zoo animal. I had spent much of my teen years speaking out against captivity, fighting to free Brutus and Ursula, two bears living in abysmal conditions in a cage near my home, and I had succeeded against all odds. That felt good, but I was an adult now with an adult’s awareness and power. And I had done nothing else.
I walked away from that imagined glimpse of death more alive than ever and burning to tell my story. I had no idea what I was doing, but I started writing and struggling—not knowing what to write, not being able to stay motivated. Four years in, with my first draft in the trash, I discovered NaNoWriMo. I signed up for the 50,000 word challenge. I booked a cheap flight to Chiang Mai, Thailand, where I would create my own writing retreat. I hopped from one wifi hotspot to the next—fueled by tropical views, delicious vegan food, and an ambitious daily word count. 
When that 2015 Nanowrimo wrapped up I felt like I had accomplished something. I felt 50,000 words closer to my dream of telling my story, but little did I know, at the time, I was still six years from publishing my book. NaNoWriMo helped me lay out the facts of my story and capture key moments of dialogue. It gave me purpose and courage and forced me to take action—all critical elements for any writer. But to be publishable, my writing and my storytelling needed some serious help. 
Luckily, I met Jennie Nash, who became my book coach. She guided me through a process to define my mission—I wanted young readers to walk away inspired to stand up for themselves and for animals. She helped me build the structure of my story, offered me guidance and accountability as I moved from having a bunch of words on a page to having a compelling story someone might actually want to read. She helped me realize my story wasn’t just about saving two bears, it was also about saving myself—how as a queer teen I struggled with the confines of gender norms, suffered taunts and physical attacks, and how those experiences helped me empathize with animals locked in cages far from their natural homes. That was the real story.
“When that 2015 Nanowrimo wrapped up I felt like I had accomplished something. I felt 50,000 words closer to my dream of telling my story.”
I had a dream of a traditional publishing deal. I thought it would be an excellent platform to continue the conversation about the horrors of captivity that I started when I was young. Jennie helped me build my pitch to agents: “Bear Boy is for today’s idealists, outsiders, rule breakers, go-getters, and activists. My ideal reader is 12 years old, the same age I was when I started my activism.” After over 100 pitches, I landed a New York City agent. I was ecstatic and she was ready to slice and dice my manuscript. “We need to completely eliminate the gay part of your story” she said. It was a punch to the gut, but I thought maybe she knew what she was doing so I did it. She pitched my reworked manuscript to all the major book imprints. A year passed without a deal and she said my lack of a social following was to blame and that I should write a controversial piece about Greta Thunberg to get some media attention. My heart sank. How could I possibly say anything bad about Greta? I saw myself in her young activism and was deeply inspired by the movement she was building. 
That’s when I decided that I no longer wanted an agent or a traditional deal. I was scared, I knew nothing about how to bring a book into the world, but I decided to press on, establish a book imprint and bring my book to life on my own terms. I hired professional copywriters, proofreaders, interior and cover designers. I did a lot of research. I had really tough days, both technically and emotionally. There were many moments that I wondered if I made the right decision, but I am on the other side of all of that doubt now. It took 10 years but Bear Boy: The True Story of a Boy, Two Bears, and the Fight to Be Free is here, in the hands of early readers. Young people from all corners of the globe are reading and reviewing the book, saying it’s inspiring them and that it’s making them rethink their relationship to nature and animals.  
It’s Pride month and I’m proud to be able to tell a queer story. And, I have to acknowledge the privilege I hold as a white cisgendered male with the financial resources, flexibility, and support to go out on my own. I believe anyone can write and power through the challenges to get their story into the world, but we must all work together to challenge and reimagine the systems in both indie and traditional publishing that limit access and continue to marginalize so many important voices and stories.
Justin Barker is an animal activist, producer, and author of Bear Boy: The True Story of a Boy, Two Bears, and the Fight to Be Free. With his YA debut, Justin hopes to highlight the plight of zoo animals and inspire young people to stand up for themselves, animals, and their fellow humans. He lives in San Francisco with his son Noah and wife Bridget; he and Bridget both identify as queer.
Web: www.bearboy.org
Instagram & Twitter :  @justinbarkertv
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strangerays · 3 years ago
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Nothing in Particular Update #2
It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.
It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.
I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)
Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!
TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover​ @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting
STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS: 
Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.
I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!
Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.
I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3
CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml
I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.
I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun
Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist
EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!
*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!
CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES
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In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.
New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.
#2
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The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.
I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.
To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.
CHAPTER: SORRY
#1 
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If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.
CHAPTER: GHOSTS
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Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.
In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??
CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION
#1
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“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.
I was made of stone.
“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”
“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.
I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”
“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”
I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)
#2
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I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”
“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.
“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”
She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”
I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.
#3
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“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”
I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”
“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”
Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.
“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.
Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!
CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN
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This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??)  in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.
CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS
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He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”
“Because we almost got hurt?”
“No. Because it came true.”
His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.
Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.
CHAPTER: WHY NOT
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I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.
This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!
CHAPTER: INEVITABLE
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“We didn’t do anything,” I said.        
“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”
 “I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”
This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.
“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”
Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.
CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)
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I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.
For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.
Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.
CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT
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Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.
My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.
For some reason, that really scared me.
I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.
I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)
What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)
Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.
Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!
:)
p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!
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queenofwiltingroses · 4 years ago
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Screw the Audience
One of my favorite shows’ creator was once asked who their target audience was. He answered the target audience was himself. He tried to make something he would like. He tried to tell a story he wanted to be told. 
Since learning this, I’ve been able to tell when a show is telling the story the writers wanted, and when a show is telling the story the writers think the audience wanted. And let me tell you: the show the writers wanted is always better.
This applies to storytelling of all kinds, not just television/streaming shows. If you’re telling a story, tell the story you want to tell. Don’t worry about what the audience wants because everyone is going to have a different opinion. You’re never going to please everyone 100% of the time. The only person whose opinion matters is yours. As long as you’re proud of your work, then you have told a good story.
Of course, I’m not saying ignore others’ writing advice completely. A lot can be learned when it comes to character creating and world building. But say, for example, the audience really wants “x” ship to be canon, but you were really pushing for “y” ship. It’s your story. You decide what’s best. 
Stop reading here to avoid tangent. 
I always contradict myself with this piece of advice because there are times when I think to myself, the fans could have written this story better than the actual writers. Ex: Disney Star Wars; the last two seasons of Voltron: Legendary Defender; some aspects of Harry Potter; the last two seasons of Star vs. the Forces of Evil; etc. I realize those examples are a matter of opinion, and that’s totally okay. But please hear me out. What do all those examples have in common? They were trying to please the fans.
Disney Star Wars never had a set plan in mind for the trilogy. They were just listening to feedback from each movie prior and going off of that. 
Voltron: Legendary Defender kept dismantling their plot and rebuilding it into something different every time they received criticism. One season you’d think you know where it was going, but by the next season they’d change it again. “Oh, you this is about racism? Nope! It’s about genocide. You were right the first time: the Galra are bad. But we only changed it so Allurance can happen! But since the fans still want LGBTQ+ representation, let’s make another mc married to guy who had less than a second of screen time!” 
J.K Rowling is changing stuff about Harry Potter and its characters twenty years after the final book was published because fans were upset it wasn’t representative enough. Yes, representation is important. But fake/bad representation is worse than no representation. Here’s a piece of advice: know the sexualities and ethnicities of your characters before your final draft.
In 2018, co-creator of Star vs. confirmed on his tumblr that production of the show was being completed as the season went along. In an interview with kidscreen, creator Daron Nefcy said that working on the show as it airs allows the writers to get “instant feedback” and “see what works for people”. What ended up happening was a number of plot points from previous seasons were contradicted and forgotten, resulting in fans being more confused and discouraged than satisfied. Lesson: By trying to please the fans, you’ll end up discouraging the fans. Blue order made a really good video on what went wrong with this show. It’s over two hours long, but it’s definitely worth it. The video is well researched and well written. The whole time I was watching it, I kept flailing my arms and yelling, “Exactly!” 
I realize not everyone is a part of these fandoms, but I’d say there’s a good chance everyone’s in at least one of them. And if you’re not, you at least see my point. When a writer stops telling a story they want to be told, they wind up telling a story nobody wants to be told. 
Okay, this post ended up being a lot longer than I initially intended. Please forgive the fact that I basically went on four different rants about what went wrong with some of my favorite fandoms. I promise I did it to prove my point, and not just to vent. 
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stylinbreeze60 · 3 years ago
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HI!! for the ask game: I, K, N, O, X thank you! have a lovely day/night!
I may have gotten so busy I completely forgot about these. Whoops
When I shared these questions that someone sent me on discord, I didn't realize I'd shared the same batch of questions on tumblr a couple of years ago. So, this gives me an opportunity to revisit some of the answers.
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
Whenever I take plane trips, I look up travel-themed fics to read en route. Yes, I'm the one who likes to read fics set on airplanes while on an airplane.
K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?
I think I've answered this before by talking about the unpublished alternate ending to Chapter 6 of Life Hereafter, where (in the alternate version) a vulnerable Tsukki spontaneously kisses a vulnerable Yamaguchi and gets a less-than-thrilled response.
So let's go for my angstiest published fic: "Impossible Choice," a dystopian au featuring Iwaizumi giving Moniwa an ultimatum to either murder his friend (Futakuchi) or have himself executed.
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write or finish for you?
All of them? (No, just kidding.)
It really would be nice if my "Next Big Thing" wip samples could all get finished by somebody, since I could never finish them all. If there's any fic I'd like to see finished though, it'd be a certain unpublished BokuAka kids fic (before you go uwu at how cute that sounds, it's set in a children's hospital andaasafisofa). I ran into some roadblocks with it, requiring more effort to fix than I was willing to put into it, so it's on indefinite hiatus in my drafts.
O: How do you begin a story--with the plot, or the characters?
The more I pondered this, the less the question made literal sense actually? Because it's highly unlikely I'll start developing plot beats without having characters in mind by that time. So I'm interpreting the question as, do I come up with a premise and then assign characters, or do I decide I want to write certain characters and then make a premise?
So, I took all 70 of my posted fics and designated each one as either starting with "premise" or "characters," and the results actually surprise me:
Premise: 35 Characters: 35
Most of my early fics originated from a desire to write a fic with a given premise. Since the end of 2018, though, I have been accepting prompts (Usuri Drabbles, Bad Things Happen Bingo) and participated in a few exchanges, all of which force me to write a fic about a given character/pairing, which account for most of the "characters" fics.
So in sum, with a few noteworthy exceptions, I tend to start "with the plot" unless it's a request.
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Ah, the infamous question. I do try to restrain my impulses (contrary to how I portray myself on discord sometimes), but lately it's been...
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(Poor boy. Why...)
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kurodachimagic · 3 years ago
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Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1
Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.
Rating: Pg 13
Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.
Word count: 6.2k
A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!
Read on ao3
Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.
The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.
Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.
The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -
His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”
“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”
“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”
No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.
The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”
Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.
"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.
Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."
The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.
Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.
What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.
Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -
Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.
The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!
With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.
---
The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.
His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.
Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.
He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”
Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”
“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.
“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”
“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”
Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And you’re turning 30, right?”
Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.
Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”
“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.
Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.
Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.
“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”
Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”
“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“It’s true, you’ll see!”
Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.
--
The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.
Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.
Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.
Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.
Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.
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onedivinemisfit · 4 years ago
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2020 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza
Boy howdy, but it has been a year. So much so that I felt the need to dig up this meme so I can lavish myself with a little TLC, ‘cause you know what? I deserve it! And so do you. This year has been tough, and even in the best of times it can be a real struggle to remember that, instead of being your own worst enemy, you should strive to be your best cheerleader. Remember to be kind instead of cruel, to forgive rather than condemn yourself. Creativity is hard, and it is always a journey, never a final destination, so let’s take a moment and sight-see where we’ve been this year, yeah???
Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3
Tagged by @bubblesthemonsterartist​ <w<
1. Shirayuki and the Black Bear-King - I won’t lie, this one meant a lot to me, personally. I had been dying for a theme native to my home country, so when I got the opportunity, I swore to myself up and down and sideways that I would deliver. It’s rare that I get to unite fandom and my own culture, so this was immensely pleasing. And detailed... and time-consuming... 
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2. Those were the days my friend - To be fair I didn’t really want to pick only one work from this year’s Obiyukiweek because WOW. I didn’t think I had it in me. Rarely have I overcome my own expectations in so solid a manner. But this too, was the work with the most emotion going into it, I just knew that if I was going with this sort of theme, it had to be well-done. It was also my first time making faux-screenshot type art!
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3. Mothers - This is actually a three-picture series, but I’ll just preview the one I loved the most <w< I’m still in shock over how quickly these were sketched and rendered, I can barely remember creating them - tis what happens when I zone out completely, and why I suck so much at tutorials~ But I was really pleased with the result, because I wanted to symbolize the softness, the age-worn longing for a mother who is gone. ;;
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4. The Story Paneling Redraws - here too it’s rather a series of pictures instead of a single one, but wowie was I surprised I could actually do this?? I had drawn AUs and changed a scene or two before, in big, single pictures, but never had I attempted to take it to this level, where I redrew whole segments of a manga, to fit my own AU. And it worked?? I actually could “retell” a story, in simple formats, to make my points visually easier to convey. That was an amazing feeling - and shocking, too.
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5. The Snuggle Fight Club - ah yes, the sketch that took forever to turn into lineart that took another eternity to colour and render... ewe Most of the reason I’m so pleased with the outcome here is that my track record for finishing art that gets that old, is really really bad. At some point I usually end up abandoning them to the sands of time. But not this time! Hah! 
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Gosh this made me realize a lot of things about myself actually >/////> I’m proud even, what the heck.
I tag; @claudeng80​ @sleepykaru​ aaaaaand @jhalya​ - and anyone who feels like doing it <3
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