#continuing to have No idea what i'm doing but vaguely enjoying myself

[nightly-nightcat]

night cat sitting on top of this very willow-y mushroom? :0

day 96 - not sure how well i understood/caputured the willowy mushroom part but the general vibe was a fun one to execute,,, oh to be a little nightcat on a mushroom, pondering and whatnot

[mallstars]

Speaking Up

After months of consideration, I’ve decided to speak up about a deeply distressing experience I had in the Drarry community. 

A little over half a year ago, I was abruptly banned from a community of Drarry writers after a vague statement accusing a member of harassment. I was never told specifically what I was accused of; nobody ever spoke to me or provided any explanation for their actions. When I tried to reach out, I was blocked. 

In a slow trickle of information provided by other people over the following weeks and months, I learned that I’d been blamed for anonymous hate comments left on a fellow writer’s AO3, based on “credible evidence”, which wasn’t shared. 

I want to be very clear: 

I did not leave these hate comments, nor would I ever leave hate comments to anyone. The person who received these comments, as well as everyone supporting their accusations, were people whose work I enjoyed privately and publicly. 

I have no idea what “evidence” anyone could have come up with to support the claim that I left those anonymous comments. Other than knowing that I'm innocent, I've also learned that you cannot determine the identity of a guest commenter on AO3. 

There’s something uniquely jarring and isolating about being falsely accused of having done something bad, without being told what it is and without being given the chance to defend myself, as well as this accusation coming from people I considered friends, in a community that prides itself on being kind and mature. 

Being branded a harasser by people I trusted has had a devastating effect on my experience in fandom, my fandom relationships, and on my mental health. It has made navigating fandom spaces challenging, and had a noticeable impact even on my real, everyday life. I’m still dealing with the fallout of what happened, half a year later. 

For months, I’ve been thinking about how to address this matter. Ultimately, I’ve decided against a more detailed recount of what happened and how it continues to affect me, as I don’t want to invite any further negativity, towards me or the people who targeted me. 

Instead, I want to be clear about who I am and how I engage with the Drarry community. I care deeply about my stories, as well as other creators and the fandom spaces we share. I’ve always strived to uplift others and to be a kind, authentic, and fun participant. As a passionate reader, I will continue doing what I enjoy: reading stories and being vocal in my support of the creators of this fandom. 

Creating and being an active part of the fandom space always went hand in hand for me, and this has been difficult for the majority of this year. As of now, I’m not sure I’ll keep writing in this community, but I’ll take every day as it comes. In the end, I'm a writer with all my heart, and if I end up wanting to stick around, I'll be happy for it. 

In speaking up about this now, I’m giving myself permission to move on. It has seemed imperative to me to understand not only the What of the situation but also the Why. However, in the end, none of my guesses hold much weight. I’ve not been able to find a sensible link between myself and the person I was made out to be. I’ve exhausted myself and my options, and am finally giving myself permission to stop trying to understand the motivations of those who accused me, and instead focus on the positive aspects of being part of this community. 

Finally, I want to say that I strongly believe in open communication. I wasn’t given the chance to respond to the accusations when it mattered the most. Still, I am, and always have been, genuinely happy to talk. To anyone who’s reading this and would like to chat, whether you know about this situation or not: My DMs are open. 

I'm so very grateful to the people who've listened to me, created new safe spaces for and with me, and cared while I did my best to navigate this situation. I'm grateful, too, to those friends who cracked jokes about this mess long before I was ready to. Thank you for being the brightest part of my fandom experience. Your friendship, as well as the incredible stories I’ve gotten to read in this fandom, will stay with me, and continue to shine brighter than anyone could diminish. 

[girlfromthecrypt]

I haven't posted to this account very much (or at all, really), so I figured I'd update you guys on the state of Such Happy Campers and Press Play. I don’t want to talk about the incident that led to me putting SHC on ice because it still rather upsets me, but honestly, I think it was a good decision. I was grieving the “loss” of SHC for a while, but I can't help but believe I made the right call. Continuing on under the circumstances would have drained me and likely taken me right down the road to writer's block.

Furthermore, and in hindsight, I find writing Press Play a lot more fulfilling right now. All my life, I've only ever written horror, so Press Play has been a wonderful breath of fresh air. It feels cathartic writing about struggles I myself have experienced, and it’s so easy to write about music. I love music so much, and I didn't realize how fun it could be to combine this with my passion for writing. You might have been able to tell from the sheer difference in word count between Press Play and SHC, but it's been so much easier working on this somehow. Also, I do believe SHC wasn't all it could have been. I only want to put out my best work, and I don't think SHC was quite on par with Press Play.

But what about SHC, you may wonder. Or you may not, but I'll address it anyhow. I have recently had an idea for what I might turn the original SHC into. It's only a vague outline right now and I won't turn it into anything more until I'm done with Press Play (I have learned that I can't really write several IFs at once, I'm not C.C. Hill), but I figured I'd let you know that the SHC characters aren't gone forever. My idea would involve the entire SHC cast, though some names/appearances/personalities may undergo changes. Also, I might exclude Anita because she was, admittedly, my least favorite to write and might not fit in with the new setting. Other than that, the IF would explore an interesting alternative to the SHC narrative— for example, the character equivalent to Basil Laurier would actually be a practicing lawyer in this one. Another prominent change would be the inclusion of Sawyer Wright-Garcia as a full RO. They’re the only one I actually have a clear mental image for as to where their story would go, and it is… nuts.

Without spoiling too much, the plot and setting would be very different. It'd be horror, except it'd start out very unassuming, light-hearted and sitcom-y, only to then spiral. I feel like I'd enjoy causing that kind of whiplash. Anyhow, that's that. I hope that if you liked and perhaps miss SHC, this post helped at least a little bit.

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family CODE: White

My thoughts on CODE: White will likely be different from most people since I knew pretty much the entire plot beforehand. I'm a spoiler fiend when it comes to my hyperfixations like SxF, so I read the novelization of the movie back in January and kept up on all the promotional videos and images that were released. But when it was finally time to see the movie for myself, did that ruin my enjoyment? Not at all. For me, it actually made me enjoy it more because 1) I knew what to expect so I wasn't disappointed, and 2) I found myself looking forward to seeing all the scenes I only read about or saw short clips of.

With that said, yes, I enjoyed the movie so much! If you're a Spy x Family fan, or even just a casual enjoyer of the series, it's a ton of fun. It has all the elements we love about the series: clever humor, sweet family moments, and spy action/drama. And because it's a movie, we get to see all of this with a movie animation budget instead of a TV series budget, which is another plus!

One thing to keep in mind with these original, stand-alone anime films based on series is that they're meant for a more general crowd than just fans of the series. Since theaters attract a wider audience than late-night TV and online manga chapters, movies like this serve as a means to introduce the series to people who may only have a vague idea of what it's about. That's why these movies contain a storyline that can fit mostly anywhere in the series chronology and don't have anything canon-altering.

CODE: White is an interesting mix of plots that, for the most part, blend together well. There's the main plot that continues throughout, which is saving Operation Strix by having Anya learn how to make the meremere for the cooking contest, but then there's the Yor jealousy plot B which is resolved in the first half, but is then replaced by the next "plot B" in the latter half of the movie, which is saving Anya from the military.

A lot of people didn't like the "Yor gets jealous" subplot when it was first revealed before the movie even came out, since it seemed to be a rehash of her being jealous about Fiona. I personally didn't have a problem with this since I don't think it's unreasonable for her to get jealous a second time, especially when she thinks she sees Loid doing something extreme like kissing another woman (as opposed to just talking). But the way it was resolved could have been a bit better in my opinion. The ferris wheel scene in the movie very much mirrored the bar scene from the series, but the reason the latter is so effective is because we get to hear Loid's inner thoughts during it; we know he's going full Twilight-mode and isn't being sincere, and that's why Yor kicks him. But then at the park, he talks to her much more genuinely and they work things out. But in the ferris wheel scene, we don't get to hear his inner thoughts so we don't get any indication as to whether his repeating of the marriage vows, etc, is him being sincere or not. Then she smacks him, they insist they aren't fighting when Anya brings it up, and that's the end of it.

I do like the fact that Anya reads their minds and seems happy with what she "hears" in their heads, but I still think the subplot would have felt more complete if it ended after Yor realized her mistake rather than have Loid do the ambiguous Romeo act again. Or it could have been brought up one more time later in the movie, for example, Yor apologizes for hitting him, he talks to her more sincerely, etc. If you're gonna rehash the bar scene, at least rehash the scene that brought it closure, which is the park bench scene. Again, I'm totally fine with the jealously subplot overall, just thought it could have been wrapped up a bit better.

Other than that, there were just a few little issues I had, like how was Anya able to afford what was probably an expensive liquor? (was she really packing that much dough in her little bag? She went straight from the bedroom out the window so it's not like she "borrowed" any money from Loid). Also seemed weird that she didn't pick up on Yor's infidelity worries until last minute. A few things stretched the line of believability a bit far too, like Loid's ability to make perfect masks so quickly, and Anya just happening to hit her head on the button that conveniently opened all the windows on the bridge. Also something here and there that didn't align with the manga, like Yor not having any reaction to sharing a room with Loid, whereas she has a totally different reaction to this in chapter 94. Maybe a bit more resolution for the fates of the villains too. I guess Luca and Dmitri survived the crash, but what about Snidel? Did Loid actually kill him or just knock him out? And if it's the latter, Snidel seems like the type who would want to get revenge. A quick cameo of what happened to them in the end would have been nice.

Speaking of the villains, normally I wouldn't like the fact that they're pretty one-dimensional and not that interesting, but for a movie like this where most people just want to see the Forgers being themselves in fun and exciting scenarios, taking time away from that to make more developed villains who likely won't be seen again in the franchise, would have not been the best choice, lol.

But even though I had some criticisms of the movie, all of them are minor and not enough to overshadow everything else that was enjoyable about it. Besides all the humor, of which there was plenty, there were so many cute "awww" family moments that perhaps didn't lend anything to the plot, but were still important to establish the characters and their relationships, and thus make us care about what happens to them. Like the scene of Anya, Yor, and Bond playing at the hotel...it could have been skipped without anything seeming out of place, but it reveals so much about the characters without being blatant about it: how Yor wants to please Anya despite being a bit embarrassed at first to take part in her game, and then how Anya's eyes light up with happiness when Yor starts playing with her...for a series like SxF that's character-driven rather than plot-driven, scenes like this are so important and I'm glad the film creators realized this too!

There were also so many cute, subtle scenes as well, like when Loid and Yor smile at each other after chiding Anya, as if they're happy to share this moment of exhausting yet satisfying parenting; when Anya reads Loid's mind after he saves her but doesn't reveal what he's actually thinking yet we can imagine what it is based on her expression; Loid showing feelings of comradery with the restaurant owner because their pasts are so similar; Anya quietly and sadly hugging Bond in the bedroom; and in the ferris wheel after Yor feels so embarrassed about misunderstanding what happened with Loid and the woman but then can't help but smile with motherly love when she sees Anya waving at her...the movie is filled with moments like this that are like little love letters to fans who know the true heart of SxF isn't so much the action and spy drama as it is the family relationships.

And of course, as I mentioned before, the animation of the movie is fantastic! Not just the action scenes, which are great by the way, especially Yor's fight with Type F, but the character expressions as well. Anya's always had the most varied and hilarious faces of all the characters, but the movie goes even harder with her expressions, especially when she has to hold in her stool! Her faces were making me both cringe and laugh at the same time! The animators did such a good job making me feel sorry for her but also laugh at her.

I'm not a fan of potty humor, but I was confident SxF would make it funny, and I was right! The poop god sequence in particular was as equally cringe as it was hilarious!

To conclude, CODE: White is a must-see for anyone who likes or loves Spy x Family. I can't say it's a cinematic masterpiece or anything, but for what it's supposed to be - a fun and enjoyable film for those who like the series, it definitely delivers! Can't wait to see it at least two more times during its showing in the US...and more times in the future!

[spicyicetea]

So… I used to play Obey me a while back, but I finally decided to get back into it. You can thank Beel, I've always loved him. I decided that I'll open up my questions to any and all obey me related content but I also have a few ideas of my own I kinda want to write anyways.  I don't remember the plot of the original game that well. I know I could just go back and go through the chapters again, but I want to experience the game properly again so am currently waiting for the damn account deletion to be done so I can replay (Finally get to do it on the 19th). In the meantime,I've decided to start playing Nightbringer, I'm currently on Lesson 12, I don't remember what level though. I'm enjoying myself, Beel has been my focus since day one but seeing Diavolo in his demon form constantly… damn… ANYWAY!

Because I don't know the story as well as I generally know the characters, I have to make significant changes to the MC in my writing as I don't know all the vague lore you get about them every now and then. However, I've decided just blanking them out is too boring. A few complaints I've seen about x reader/xMCs is that they tend to be written with little to no significant personality, which makes sense to project upon but can become bland. I try to give my MCs different personalities and decide that I'll just do the same thing here. But, like more. I have one or two draft ideas but I'm still caught between them. I know I want to have the MC be an established character rather than a husk, it makes sense to have them be so blank for a game but it can sometimes make it hard to relate to such a blank slate in writing. (For me at least). Out of the drafts I've decided to go with, my first idea, which is to keep the Human MC but not have them be from the human world in the game. I was originally considering making the MC be from the real world, but to further differentiate the game MC to the way I want to write them, they're going to be from a world that is a bit more magical. It won't be blatantly in your face in the way of being overpowered or as strong as Solomon, but the MC isn't a pushover and doesn't like being disrespected. I suppose I should introduce our MC before posting the little preview to gauge interest. 

MEET MC:

Currently she is being represented by my persona, but there is 0 description of her appearance in the actual writing, well other than basic fem descriptors, tiddie and thicc thighs because I am a whore. Now you can kinda already see some vague lore with all the hands. As I mentioned before, this MC comes from a world with magic, including angels, demons and more. The five mentioned briefly in the drawing refers to some characters that help establish her backstory and why she is in the Devildom in the first place, they won't play key roles in the story itself, unless people are interested in who they are.

Obey me! x reader (slight Yandere/possessive behaviour)

Warnings: All writing on my page is either full Yandere or somewhat Yandere, with possessive tendencies. Many may include mentions of violence, swearing and sexual imagery. MDNI. Demons trying to stake their claim over you already.

Prologue kinda

The tip of my foot tapped against the tiles as I continued to whisk the frosting in the bowl, cradled in my arms. Swaying side to side to the tune I hummed under my breath, a soft tail curling around my ankle grounding me again. I look to my side with a smile, crouching down and running my free hand through the soft cats fur.

“Hiya Jiji, are you alright?” I cooed, my cat rolling onto her back.

I close my eyes in a smile as my fingers go to scratch between her ears, but instead brush against the cold floor. With a pout I open my eyes, only to stare at an unfamiliar floor. The air feels stagnant and keeps catching in my throat, randomly appearing somewhere else armed with only a whisk and a bowl of frosting would do that to someone though. At the sound of a loud “Ahem” I slowly rose from my hunched of position.

“Who are you?” A stern voice called from behind me, clearly not happy to have a visitor.

Biting my lip nervously I turned on my heels to face them only to be met with a hoard, oh wait group is the appropriate word. Scanning over their horns and defensive posture, they must be demons… but I had never seen any demons like them back home. Speaking of home, I don’t recognise this place at all from hell when I’d visit to do business. My eyes darted to the bracelet on my wrist, the charms dangling there and not responding as I pressed on them.

“Damn it…” I muttered under my breath.

“I’ll ask again, who are you?” The voice asked again far more forcefully.

I dropped my arm back to my sides as I looked up at the demons. Upon a second glance, it was clear that three of them weren’t demons but angels, well one seems to be human but a shady one at that. Despite the suffocating anxiety settling in, I bit my lip and debated my options. Dying in a foreign hell didn’t seem too nice right about now.

‘Remember Y/N, when meeting anyone, no matter their status, act polite and formal. It has the lowest likelihood of backfiring.’ A voice echoed in my mind.

As much as I hated it when… he decided to implant thoughts in my memory, they were often useful. Heeding the voice’s advice I promptly bowed, straightening my posture as a rose again.

“My name is Y/N, I’m a human.”

“Y/N? Human? How intriguing, how is a human like you here?” The man beside the first laughed, placing a hand on the stern one’s shoulder as he spoke.

As if sharing the same thought, the all turned to the white haired human before he chuckled awkwardly and shook his head.

“Don’t look at me, this isn’t my doing, I don’t know anyone named Y/N.”

I just stood silently, watching as they devolved into bickering, the red-head who had addressed me before standing aside with another man, entertained my their squabbles. That was until I received a firm poke to my shoulder. I jolt at the sudden contact, smacking them on the cheek with the whisk still in my hand.

“Oh, can I?” The ginger asked, motioning to the bowl tucked under my arm.

I raised a bow and just held the whisk up at his face, him leaning forward and licking the frosting off, starting blankly at me before changing to a content smile and licked the rest of the frosting off of it.

“Mmm, sweet, did you make this?”

“Huh? Well, yes?”

He nodded, grabbing my shoulders and turning to face the group, his yelling grabbing their attention.

“Lucifer! We’re keeping her!”

“What?! No we’re not!”

“I think it’s an amazing idea, Lucifer! She can move into the spare room in the House of Lamentation!”

“Diavolo… yes sir.” Lucifer sighed.

—————————-

And that’s how I ended up here, sat on a bed that was apparently now mine while a demon cooed and painted my nails.

“Ah, you look so adorable Y/N-chan,” Asmodeus sang, admiring my now dry nails.

It had only been a day since I had been… given refuge in this house, and it was already exhausting. The brothers seemed to not trust me, yet clung to me whenever I went into shared living spaces. I’ve been jumped on, bit and two of the brothers even started yelling at each other when their “Y/N schedule” overlapped. It wasn’t all bad though. The brothers weren’t the only ones present at the time and the others seemed to stick around.

As Asmodeus dragged me by my arm out of the room into the library, I gulped as all eyes drew to us, their hungry stares sending shivers up my spine. As my eyes met a pair of friendly gold ones, a grin spread on Diavolo’s face, ushering me over.

“Ah, Y/N, are both of you done with your pampering? Come sit with us!” Diavolo grinned, patting his thigh.

I walk over to sit between him and Barbatos, standing waiting for an opportunity to sit down. Both of them looked at each other with a smirk, Diavolo leaning back and patting his thigh again.

“Come, what has you hesitating?” He grinned.

“Wait, you want me to… sit on-“

Diavolo leant forwards, intertwining our fingers as he pulled me towards himself, using his other hand to spin me around and sit me on his thigh. I tense up, hands shooting to sit in my lap. His hands stay on my hips, rubbing up and down my sides as he casually continued to speak to brothers.

“Lucifer, have you thought about our previous discussion?”

“Yes, my brothers and I would be more than able to monitor her at RAD.”

“Wait what?” I ask, turning back to look at Diavolo.

He just chuckled and leant forwards, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Well, you must be here for some reason even if you’re unaware, so we’ve decided to let you stay. To help you integrate into the Devildom we’re enrolling you in RAD, the Royal Academy of Diavolo. Lucifer and his brothers will look after you during your stay, so if any problems come up, please do tell them. I don’t mind if you come visit Barbatos and I though, I can always make time for… special guests.”

His horns rubbed against the back of my neck as his grip tightened when the other brothers come into the library. Yeah… this is going to be a stressful stay.

Yay finally managed to copy past this without my tumblr having a stroke. I hope you people like this, I’m down horrendous for these men and really want an excuse to write for these characters. The relationships will build quickly and each new update will focus on a character primarily, perhaps with nsfw? Idk depends on how well you all take this. There are some characters I think would make sense to get close to first in this so I’ll make it up to y’all. As much as I want Diavolo sadly I don’t think, going down the harem route, that he’d be the first one you offically started dating, he’d probably be either after or just before Lucifer to be honest.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Home

Introducing part 2 of stuff that's been rejected from publishers! I hope y'all enjoy :)

As the train station rumbled with movement, I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders and adjusted my mask. Better safe than sorry, my mother always said, and I tended to agree.

Even with the mask, the air reeked of ammonia. It stung my nostrils and made my eyes water. Damn, but I wanted to be back. The gantry was empty, automated stations blinking neon in the hazy air. I hopped over it and continued through, shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the tiles. Rare that the train station was in a train station, I thought.

The clock overhead warned me that it was almost midnight. Whyever they used an analogue clock in this day and age, I did not know. I watched its fourth hand speed towards 13. Just as it struck, the train sped into the station, the lights glinting off it like a kingfisher diving in the mangrove.

Its doors, several tons of solid gold, creaked open to reveal a single man, in a tophat and intricately embroidered vest. “Miss Maya,” he said, by way of greeting. His accent was impossible to place, vaguely refined with a peculiar emphasis on the sybilants. 

I stepped into the train and returned his nod. We had met before, and courtesy never hurt. “Hama. Being daring today, aren't we? Sitting in an empty carriage?”

Hama shrugged. “Please, Miss Maya, do not fret over me like a hen. I am careful,” he told me. Unlike you went unsaid.

Maya and Hama were not our real names, of course. Those were far too valuable to hand out to another. But they were close enough for both our purposes.

I sank myself into the soft cushion. “Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't have risked it, careful or not. You've heard what happened to the poor bastards who got caught by it, haven't you?”

Hama sighed. “Yes, but ‘twas almost midnight,” he explained, a hint of melancholy in his dry voice. “I was thinking of the rumours.” Beneath us, the train rumbled into motion, grinding gears and pumping steam.

“The rumours, huh?” We had all heard of them. They were lies, of course. The idea that the midnight train held any special powers was… Tempting. “You should've known how dangerous believing that crap is.”

Hama just shook his head. Briefly, I regretted chiding him. These train rides were long infuriating, and often dreary beyond belief. Having someone willing to talk with me was worth a lot sometimes.

“I'm sorry, Hama,” I said, when the pause between us stretched too long. “You don't need the reminder, do you?”

Quietly, he said, “‘Tis just- Do you not miss it?”

I froze. We did not speak of it. Nobody with half a grain of sense did. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.

“I have not seen it in five years, Miss,” he continued. “My wife will be old and wrinkled by the time I get home. My sons will have grown up. My daughter would be married, without me to give her my blessings. Do you know what that feels like, Miss Maya? To watch the world go by?”

I swallowed the knot in my chest, and said, “I know. Believe me, I do.”

Hama ran his fingers through his overgrown hair. “How long has it been for you? You are so young, I cannot imagine it has been more than three years.”

“Two,” I said, quietly enough that my voice was swallowed by the train.

Hama had sharp ears, however. “Two years? Your formative years, then. That is a travesty,” he informed me with avuncular concern.

A laugh bubbled out of my chest. It sounded just like the ammonia in the station I had just departed from, sting-sharp and hateful. “Not two years,” I replied, grimly amused.

“Two decades.”

He blinked. “You hardly look a day over sixteen,” he told me, finally. “It simply cannot be.”

“Have you not noticed? We do not age here. My hair has not grown an inch since the day I began wandering. Our wounds do not heal. Old Akat died from blood loss after she stepped on a nail. So believe me when I say, I too am careful.” The last words emerged in a hiss, barely more than the steam that powered our train.

“I- Twenty years? I cannot imagine how painful that must be, and with you so young. You poor-” The squealing of the train's halt cut off the rest of his words, sparing me the pain of telling him about the lonely nights, the shivering desperation that had festered in my heart, the slow death of a hope that should never have existed in the first place.

The doors swung open, and I fled out. The lands beyond were smoggy, thick with mist and carbon monoxide. Yet I could see the telltale signs of suburbia beyond. They reminded me of the days before, and it twisted the knife Hama had stabbed my bruised heart with. So I snapped, with a childish vengefulness, “And there's no such thing as a way back!”

The doors clanged shut firmly on my back, and Hama left with them. It was dangerous to be on a train alone, of course, but he had willingly taken that risk in the name of what… A rumour? That the midnight train would take you home?

Foolishness, I insisted, and tried to ignore the way the streetlights looked just the way they had twenty years ago. The streets were so similar, too. There were the potted plants lining the sidewalks, forcing me to walk on the roads home. There were the birdcages and the washing machines beneath crowded canopies.

The tracks disappeared behind me, leaving me exactly where I had left twenty years ago. The road signs were identical. I was on the right street, too. Just a short way away from a house I had once resided in.

It was absurd, of course. Once you wandered, you would never find your way home again. Everyone knew that.

Still, the worm of hope gnawed at the apple core of my soul. I kicked a stone angrily, as though that would chase the emotion away. It did not, and I continued striding grimly.

But if I truly believed I could not go home, why did I continue wandering? Why not settle down like Haru did, in some strange town with four-eyed people? Why not make a new place to live and call… Well, a place to live. I could not bring myself to say the word, even after all those years away.

That house was different, I noted with fierce satisfaction. There had never been a house with a green roof in the past. That settled it, of course. My paranoia was simply acting up again.

Yet- a lot could change in two decades. It might even have been more than that, for all I knew. I had met a wanderer who forgot their own name, once. A couple of years could have easily gone amiss.

Before I could banish the niggling thought, my over-sharp eyes caught the next house's number. 542. Just a short distance from my old ho- habitat.

Damn, but I wanted to go back. 

What could it hurt? If I went there and proved to myself I was not, in fact, back, I could put the irritant to rest once and for all. My feet took me along the path I had once taken back from school. Or a close mimicry of it, at least.

I came upon the house sweating slightly. Not out of excitement. I merely wanted to get it over and done with, to rid myself of this compulsion.

The lawn was slightly overgrown, utterly unlike how my father would have left it. The roof had more than a few tiles that needed replacing. Our swing was there, but the rope was fraying. The fault of time, or a sloppy trap.

The lights were on. Warm light shone through the windows. I could here people moving about, eating and chatting and doing whatever it was people did in their locations of staying. I had almost forgotten how such things went, with no need to eat or drink.

It was probably a trap, a lie, or one of those odd coincidences that occurred sometimes. Pressing that doorbell, which looked nothing like my old one, was a ridiculous idea. Yet my finger was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

The bell rang like the train's whistle.

With the scuffing of chairs and curious exclamations, the door swung open. An old woman, her skin wrinkled with liver spots, stood on the other side. “Eh?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

Before common sense could take over, I pulled down my hoodie and took off my mask, baring my face to the world. 

The woman made a small choking noise. “M- May-”

“Maya,” I said quickly, the way I told the strangers I met on my wanderings. “Call me Maya.” What she would call me had I not interrupted, I did not want to know.

“Oh.” She deflated slightly. Her ugly flower-print dress did remind me of my mother's sense of fashion. “You remind me of my daughter, was all. Though you're much too young to be her. Ah, what was the matter?”

I froze. What was I to say: ‘Hello, I have been frozen in time for twenty years wandering world to world and boy, you sure look like my mother aged up by two decades'? 

The silence stretched on. It was doing a lot of that recently, I noted. “You remind me of my mother, too,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper, not needing the train's clanging to drive it underground. “Though it has been twenty years since I last saw her.”

The woman who looked awfully like my mother stared into my eyes. “James? Come here. There's something you need to see,” she cried, in lieu of something better to say.

James was my father's name too. Another funny coincidence. The old man who wheeled himself to the door had an uncanny semblance to him too, though my real father would never have ended up in a wheelchair.

He looked up and me and let a little gasp out. “It- Oh my god, it can't be. Allison, are you seeing this?”

My mother had been named Allison. I was reminded of another one of her favourite sayings. ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.’ This had to be a trap. Yet, for some reason, I could not bring myself to leave.

The woman who could not possibly be my mother told him, “She says her name is Maya.”

He regarded me thoughtfully. “What's your favourite juice, kid? And who were your best friends in primary five?”

“I'm torn between apple and grape juice, and my closest friends were Betty and Qi Le, though I hung out with Josh a lot too,” I answered promptly, before cursing myself. What was I doing, handing out private information? That was how wanderers got caught! “Go on, tell me: what did your daughter make for you for science class when she was 10?”

Allison and James, my parents' doppelgangers, exchanged another concerned glance. “I’ll do you one better than that,” Allison told me. She reached back into the room and brought out a little clay dragonfly. “This was a part of the set yo- I mean, she made. The larvae and the eggs are lost, but we kept this.”

I did not know whether to laugh or weep. It was green. The one I had made was blue. Oxidation, a part of me whispered. Lies, the other bit cried. “Yep,” I whispered. “That's the one.”

“You had best come inside,” James said, his motorised wheelchair whirring slightly as he backed into the kitchen. My father was braver than that. He would not back away from discomfort. “Would you like some apple juice?”

“Oh, I don't really eat or drink anymore.” I smiled bitterly at their horrified expressions and stepped past Allison into the room. “It all comes right back up again.”

I had tried, of course. I had gulped down water from a dozen streams, begged food off of strange people and taped my mouth shut to keep it down. No matter what I did, my intestines simply rejected it. I could never feel full. I could never feel hungry. I had learnt to accept it long ago, but I could never feel truly alive.

I took up my old place at the table, in the corner next to the old bookshelf. It was still there, though its contents were devoid of all my young adult romances. “What are you?” Allison had a slight roundness to her eyes. Fear. I felt the same when she clenched her fist up. Old though she was, even a single blow from her had the potential to kill me.

“I am a girl who walked into a strange train station in the middle of the street twenty years ago, and wandered for two decades since,” I told her bluntly. It was the same line I gave all my hosts. “How are Qi Le and Betty?”

My mother's brow crinkled and she blinked away a couple of tears. “Is it really you? I- I mean- It's been so long, and you haven't aged a bit. You know, Qi Le's got a little boy. He's hardly younger than you were when you…” She shrugged.

“Wandered off,” I finished. I crossed my arms. “Qi Le would never have a kid. She's deathly afraid of pregnancy. So the question remains: How do I know it's really you?” I glanced down at her leg, the skirt covering her calf. “Still have your tattoo?”

It might have been better to walk off there and then. Damn, but I wanted to go back. I actually wanted to be back on my train and my endless worlds. “Of course it's me,” Allison snarled, sharper than my mother ever would have at me. “And Qi Le adopted, for heaven's sakes! You're the one who doesn't eat or drink, who hasn't blinked since you came in, and whose expression barely changes!”

“Your tattoo,” I repeated. I had come to terms with what I was long ago. It was… tolerable. 

My ‘mother’ went peculiar. Her face slackened and eyes went blank, like a marionette without a puppeteer. I got up and began walking to the door. Of course it was a lie. Twenty years wandering, and I still had the foolishness to believe rumours? I was worse than Hama.

“Maya, right?” My ‘father’ waved to me from his place in the kitchen, as I crossed the door's threshold. “Pardon your mother. We aren't so young anymore, kiddo. The stress has been a bit too much for her.” He wheeled himself up the ramp, which had not been there when I last at my house, and gently prodded Allison. She jerked herself back upright and inhaled sharply.

“I’m fine,” my ‘mother’ snapped. “And as for my tattoo, I had it removed. My wrinkling skin was ruining it. It's been twenty years, Mayra. Twenty years, and you haven't aged a day. What the hell happened to you?”

Mayra was my name. Or, it had been many years ago. “I don't know,” I admitted. “It just did.” What was I even doing here? On the tiny, tiny off chance that this was real, it would only hurt me. “Qi Le's got a kid? What's he like?” 

With the same exhaustion that permeated her entire being, my mother sighed. “Here, take this and phone her.” She handed me a little metal slide.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I shook it slightly. “And where's the cordless? It was dope.” I had been so proud of the old thing.

“Oh, sweetie,” James said. “It's been twenty years. Things have changed since then. Phones are smaller these days, and they're all cordless.” He took the phone from me and tapped on it.

That settled it. I had seen my fair share of strange technologies, and nothing from the world I once came from looked even slightly like this. Even so, I accepted the phone when James returned it, and pressed it to my ear.

“Hey, QL,” I said, when she picked up the call. “It's me.”

There was nothing but static on the other end. Finally, she responded, sniffling slightly as she did so. “If this is a prank, it's not a very good one. Mayra died a long time ago, but that doesn't make it alright to joke about it.” Her voice was so husky, so unlike her.

“It's me,” I repeated. “Did you get to go with Kyle to prom?”

Qi Le took a shuddering breath. “Where have you been, you idiot? And no, Kyle went with Gwen. You know, the stupid mean girl in our class? Yeah, and she's the CEO of some big shot company now. Kyle married a man. I got to go to their wedding. Damn it, I spent three years hunting all over the country for you. Your parents- They cried themselves to sleep every night. How could you?”

There had never been a Gwen in our class. Had my memory failed me, or was this a lie that swept by? And Kyle- Kyle who always talked about girl's looks? Ridiculous. I listened to her tirade silently. “Hey- Mayra, you still there? I'm sorry, it's just been a long day. Kai got detention, you know, and God, I'm just so worried about him.”

“Kai's your son?” The idea of Qi Le, ever the rebel, being upset over her kid getting detention seemed hypocritical to me. 

“Yeah,” she admitted. “He's a little brat, but he tries his best. He goes to the school that replaced ours. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. We can chat in person. That is, if you want.”

“Tell me something first,” I murmured into the phone. “What was my last name?”

Qi Le scoffed. “It's been two decades, May. I don't remember things as good as I used to. Also, you still sound like a kid.” She exhaled loudly. “It was Brown, wasn't it? Mayra Brown.”

“Hmm,” I replied, noncommittal. “Mom? Pops?’

The people who called themselves my parents perked up. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“What's our last name?”

My father laughed. “Have you forgotten all that already? It's Brown. You used to say it was the colour of your hair.”

I smiled wanly. “QL? You still there?” The vague sound of water came from the phone.

“Yeah, just gotta wash the dishes. You need me to pick you up?” I could picture her, wearing gloves up to her elbows to protect her overly sensitive skin. The motherly tone in her voice matched nothing I ever remembered, however.

Damn, but I wanted to go… Home.

There. I said it. I missed home. I missed the world I had once lived in. I missed my family, my school and my friends. Perhaps, just perhaps, this had been home once. Certainly, if I squinted, it looked similar enough. But my friends had grown up, my school was torn down, my parents old and withered. 

The home I remembered was no more. But I could start over, just like Haru and Venn and all the other wanderers who had settled down. 

“No,” I said. “It's fine. I'm already home. Thanks for everything. Tell Betty to keep grooving, and hopefully without those fugly bell jeans.” Before she could respond, I hung up.

Turning to my parents, I threw my arms around my mother, then bent down to hug my father. “If you really are my parents,” I whispered, just loud enough to hear, “Then I'm grateful to see you again.”

With the same caution I had thrown to the wind earlier, I disentangled myself from them. They smelled different, of pills and age. My mother brushed my cheek slightly. “Come on, Mayra, and tell us everything.”

“Alright,” I said, and allowed myself to be led back home.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finickyfelix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @oliolioxenfreewrites (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for pulling my younger brother from his bedroom for "sleepovers" in the living room in the middle of the night?

I hate how clickbaity that is, but it really is the most succinct way I can try to paraphrase this. I have submitted here before for similar reasons, so this setup may or may not sound vaguely familiar, but this is pretty self-contained as a separate issue, I think. Quick preface- I am one of four siblings. Ages aren't particularly important for this, save for the fact that the oldest three are within a handful of years of each other, while our youngest is several years our junior. I was 11 when he was born, for reference. We'll call him C, and the two middle brothers A and B.

We somewhat recently (within the past few years) moved to a new house with a few more rooms, which shook up our previous sleeping arrangements. Now, instead of A, B, and C sharing the same room while I had my own for gender-related reasons, A gets his own space while B and C continue sharing a room. This means that my room no longer immediately across the hall from all three. A has a bit of a history of being loud in the middle of the night and getting mad when others ask, request, or tell him to be quiet, so this was a relief.

However, my new room is still just a few feet away from B and C, and now B is doing loud enough things to keep me awake- mainly playing video games and either not using headphones, constantly humming loudly along to the music playing, or saying something about the game. As a "bonus," he insists that C has to watch him play the entire time.

Even though this runs well into the early hours of the morning most nights.

And C still has early-morning school to worry about.

Previously, I'd just resigned myself to shutting up, jamming earplugs in my ears each night, and dealing with whatever weirdness is making one of my ears painfully itchy on a daily basis as a result. However, recently our parents started giving C flak for staying up late. They also made sure we knew they wanted B to stop keeping him up, but I'm not sure B actually knows or cares.

C and I did a bit of kvetching about unrelated topics today, this subject came up, C told me he doesn't enjoy being kept up that late either, and I had the idea that, should midnight come and go without B quieting down, I would interrupt whatever they're doing and "ask" C if he wanted to come sleep in the living room with me. I'm putting "ask" in quotations because I voiced this idea almost immediately, and C agreed this would be helpful just as quickly; me asking would serve solely as a way to have me interject into whatever B's doing and give C a quick way out.

At the same time, B can get touchy if he thinks C is brushing him off or I'm "butting in." I mean, C and I kinda will be doing both those things if we wind up needing to do this, but B seems intent on monopolizing as much of C's time and actions as he can get away with. I don't really think they need to fully stop interacting, but maybe B needs some time to himself instead of constantly wringing attention out of the baby of the family.

Then again, B is an adult. Like, legally. He'll be able to drink in a few months. He doesn't need to act like I'm interrupting his playtime with his favorite action figure whenever I remind him C isn't required to pay attention to him 24/7.

Idk. As far as sleeping arrangements in the living room would go, there's enough furniture to go around. I'm just not entirely sure if butting in would be an asshole move. Justified? Almost certainly, I think. An asshole move? That, I don't know. Whatever the case, I'm hoping these things work out quickly enough that we don't lose much more sleep. We're tired of finally managing to get to sleep at 3 AM.

What are these acronyms?

[mirroringdust]

For Hellbrand and Ghouladriel week day 2 - the woods @hellghoulweek

I often go to this place. It is a place of retreat for me. When I can't really be there, I visit it in my mind, walking past the fragrant memories of days long gone. So old that I have almost lost the feeling, but the knowledge of that feeling is still there and I try to hold onto it whenever I can.

There among the trees in the clearing, as the leaves sway in the wind, I look for it. Most of the time I find the vague idea of you and then I let myself fall into the whispers that emanate from my thoughts. I try to go back and retrieve the words you said to me, the words that have crept into my marrow. My whole soul is shaken, nothing more, nothing less. But the memory threatens to slip away from me, fading more and more with each passing moment, and the familiarity of the meeting fades as well. I don't want to let it happen, I want to hold on to the moment because I need it. It is part of my heart, I carry it with me, my weakness and my strength at the same time.

So I set out to visit this place in reality again after a long time. It's not an easy journey. Worse than the distance is the oppressive feeling of fear that something might change, that the image before my eyes will blur and run through my hands. What if I can't get it back?

When I reach the clearing, it is quiet and a comforting warmth has settled over the place, challenging the emerging cold of this time of year. I've never been here before when the leaves turn brown and descend to the ground. It was green then, and so much light around us, so much unity, so much familiarity. If only I could hold on to that feeling, keep it with me, bind it to my being . Those were your words, and I had felt them so deeply in my veins then, and I feel them now as I reach the place of our temporary union. Before it all slipped away.

I sit down on the fallen trunk, which is strangely still holding up after all this time. I wonder if I should just talk to you or leave it at that and let the picture in front of me bring the memories back to life. It all seems so strange, so far away. So much has happened. I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything, how my life has gone since you left, that I'm actually doing well. It's beautiful in Lothlorien in summer, but also now in autumn, when the colours spread over the landscape. I enjoy the feeling of the beings around me who can be free now that you are gone.

Yes, it is so much easier without you here threatening our existence. I know you never threatened me, but that doesn't seem fair, does it? You wanted to force them all under your false peace, and part of me even understood, but I would never have followed you. Yet sometimes I wish you were here. A selfish wish, and still, it won't let me go. A part of my heart is bound to you.

(continue on AO3)

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

I haven't seen anyone post it so here's Shelby's second statement on Twitter:

[Image ID: Two screenshots of text written by Shubble and posted on @/shelbygraces on Twitter. They read: "I've thought a lot about what I would say when I came back. Firstly I want to say the biggest thank you to everyone showing their support. I have never felt so loved and cared for. And I've never seen so many communities come together to have somebody's back like this. I'm so proud of everyone taking such a powerful stance against these actions. I never could have imagined this response. While I didn't do this for myself, through sharing my story I have healed more parts of myself I had no idea were still pained.

I'd like to address the apology. Quite frankly I've never seen an apology so self centered. It seems to purposely misconstrue the issue I very clearly laid out. My issue was not with being bit. It was with being HURT. And to vaguely apologize for "any hurt" while knowing we needed a safe word because I was being hurt so often on accident, and I continued to be hurt daily, is incredibly disrespectful. But not more disrespectful than not even saying my name. I believe I am referred to as "ex girlfriend" so if you don't know who he's talking about, you might now find out what he did. This is not how you take accountability.

Not only are there no dms whatsoever where it is expressed that I enjoy being hurt by my partner, to imply there was consent in text over an issue that entirely happened in person, where every conversation about it happened in person, is ridiculous. He knows how often I asked him to stop hurting me, that I didn't like it and that I didn't like being covered in bruises all the time. Entirely why he switches to biting my legs, so no one would think I looked abused. But he continued to hurt me. He either didn't take my pleas for it to stop seriously, or he didn't hear them at all.

I felt lost for so long, truly losing myself in this relationship. I abandoned my personal morals, neglected friends and lied for this person. With every time I spoke up being ignored, I shrank. I lost my fight. I stayed locked in a house I had no key for and didn't even try to leave anymore. People ask why we stay, and it's so hard to explain ourselves because we've abandoned all our reasoning. I wasn't safe anymore with this person but I couldn't see that. I loved him and he told me he'd try to stop hurting me.

I'm deeply saddened by how many more friends were hurt by his actions. But I'm so thankful to everyone doing the absolute most in making sure I've been ok over the last few days. Thank you to everyone who's reached out to me. Thank you #ShubbleSupportSquad, every day I read your messages and see your art, and it makes me feel truly like the bravest girl in the world. I think the good that comes out victims sharing their experiences so others can learn and avoid similar pain, or come to terms with ways they were mistreated, is the most important thing in this moment.

You cannot treat people this way without consequence. You cannot pretend you don't know the harm you cause. You cannot pretend going to therapy fixes all past mistakes. All of the love that's been shared for me over the past few days, is for every victim of abuse. Our lives are forever changed by these experiences. I now struggle with memory problems and extreme anxiety. And it may be awhile before I feel fully like myself, whoever she is. But I know I have my spark back. Please remember how brave and how strong you are. We shouldn't be expected to be silent when we are mistreated." End ID]

[fandomlovingfreak]

By The Cliffs (Ch 5/?)

Paul Lahote x Female Reader

Wattpad I AO3 I Twilight Masterlist

Rating: T+

Word Count: 1348

Summary: It was supposed to be a vacation.

A time to relax after Graduate School and unwind the pent-up tension I'd built up in the years of juggling school and work. Finally, I'd have the chance to breathe. Craving the serenity of mother nature's caress, I'd chosen Forks, a four-hour drive from the University, based on the stories I'd heard from Washington locals I'd known in school. With its endless trees and rainy weather, it seemed a perfect sleepy dream spot.

In retrospect, my belief that it was solely my decision to visit and not the Universe's mystic call pulling me there was mortal ignorance. But who besides a creature possessing the gift of predestination could have anticipated what awaited me by the cliffs?

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of Meyer's Characters. This work is not created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Cop1yright Act.

Notes: Paul's POV!! He's got some abandonment issues that will probably be more obvious in his POV's then in other characters (at least so far lol)

Warnings: This fic is about Imprinting. Warning if that's not your cup of tea. There is some swearing (bc it's my love language) and angst. Some abandonment issues but lowkey Paul doesn't even understand his feelings either so it's vague-ish.

Enjoy!

I know I'm not actually angry with her as I watch her retreat back into the house. Truthfully, I was mad at myself. That first impression was a shit show, making it abundantly clear that I had a lot of work ahead of myself if I wanted (y/n) to welcome the imprint.

It's not like she could know that I could hear her entire conversation with Sam and Emily before I walked into the house due to my heightened hearing, but hearing her call me Mr. Hothead had sent a spike of hurt through my body. Even if it was fair-- especially after watching someone spiral out of control like I had. 

My piss-poor explanation-- our conversation, if you could call it that-- made me all too aware that her anger was also fair. Just because I could admit all of this didn't mean her rejection didn't sting.

You couldn't pry this information from me, but I had pictured a fantasy where I'd meet this so-called soulmate by whatever chance. Nowhere in that sick romantic fantasy had I expected this outcome. I guess I'd expected whoever she was to feel that instant connection and know we were fated to be in each other's lives. Reality had kicked my ass enough times. You'd think I should have anticipated the opposite.

A sympathetic hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. I don't need to turn to know it's Sam's hand on my shoulder.

"Give her some space. There's no use in continuing to argue. It'll only drive her further away."

I want to knock his hand off and tell him to go fuck himself... but he's right. I wish I could say he doesn't understand this rejection, but I know out of everyone here, Sam understands everything I'm going through perfectly. Emily wasn't the type to yell, but she'd wanted nothing to do with him initially. I'd felt and heard that memory a thousand times in the past years as his thoughts had unintentionally been shared around the pack.

"Okay." The single word comes out in a huff under my breath. 

"Maybe you should run it off," Sam suggests, "One of us will talk to her,

talk her through it... better, and then you can come back and try again later."

The idea of Sam or any others explaining these... almost intimate details

with (y/n) reignites the stinging pain inside me. It should be me. It's our bond. 

Rationally, I knew we couldn't find common ground with the heightened emotion that raged between us. Still, I desperately wanted her to understand I wasn't forcing her to do or be anything because of the imprint. I needed to give Sam or someone else to explain the things I fumbled through before... letting her know that the imprint wasn't something that held her to me, but honestly, the opposite. It was me who needed her.

Releasing a breath, I hadn't realized I was holding in, I nod, "You're right. I'll go." It was probably good to get away from the current environment. The breather-- the distance-- away from the pack would help me find my composure.

The first step towards the tree line stung, like there was a rubber band between me and her, and every step away pulled the rubber unnaturally... too tight. I force myself to continue until I'm out of view, mentally blocking out the screaming in my head, begging me to run back to her.

Stashing my shorts under a fallen tree, I phase, breaking into a spring down the familiar path. Though I'm still fighting myself mentally, I try to enjoy the run and surrender to my wolf instincts. 

Run. Fast. Hard.

Her face pops into my head, crystal clear, like she's standing right before me, and my claws dig into the dirt, my lungs burning as I stop dead in my tracks. Panting hard, I let my mind wander across the details of her face. We'd spent only minutes in each other's company, yet I could recall the smallest details like I'd known her for decades. Like I had had the chance to study her intimately.

My feet move on their own, propelling myself through the forest toward home as the imprint bond offers me more possible scenes from the future. She's smiling, her hand reaching for mine, our fingers entwining lazily as she laughs. (y/n) looking at me from the passenger side of the car, singing to something I can't hear. She's reaching for me, our lips meeting as she initiates a kiss.

These possibilities, moments where she smiles at me and laughs with me, wants to kiss me, bring me hope. I can fix this.

Phasing back, I make my way into the house. Dad's in the kitchen, drying dishes.

"Paul?" He calls, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel before leaning on the counter to watch me, "What are you doing here?" 

"Showering," I smile, close-mouthed at him, trying to make my escape towards the bathroom.

"Showering? It's only," he looks down at his watch, "Four. Don't you have patrol tonight?" 

I pause, "I have a good reason."

Dad raises his brows in interest, "And that is?"

"I'm-- going to see a girl." It's not really a lie; it's not really the truth.

"Sam's letting you blow off patrol for a girl?" He doesn't look like he believes a word of it. Or at least, he doesn't entirely "Doesn't really sound like Sam."

I shrug, "Kinda has to. I… imprinted."

The gears turn in Dad's head momentarily as the words catch up with him, "Well, I'll be damned. Are you bringing her over soon? I'd like to meet my

future daughter-in-law." I know he's ragging, but it still makes me

anxious. Bringing (y/n) here would not happen for a while, especially if he

insisted on making that type of joke. After today's events, I'd walk on eggshells around her regarding this sort of humor.

"Not anytime soon. Gotta convince her to talk to me without it ending it an

argument."

"Ah--" Dad crosses his arms over his chest, looking delighted for whatever reason, "She's not local, is she?"

I scoff. As if that matters. An imprint is an imprint no matter their

background, "Nope. The wolf thing really-- freaked her out." The image of her running back into Emily's house screaming about wolves flashes through my memory. 

"Understandable. It's not every day you encounter shapeshifters." 

The understatement of the century.

"Listen, I'll talk about it later, okay?" I move to make my escape, "I want to drive her back to her car—"

"Why doesn't she have her car?" Dad interrupts.

"I'll explain later!" I turn, making my way down the hall before he can ask any questions.

Shutting the bathroom door behind me, I turn the small shower on before stripping down. Standing under the ice-cold spray immediately relieves some of the tension in my shoulders. I exhale, my body seeming to deflate further. Finally, my head starts to clear ever so slightly, and I can begin to rack my brain for the words I must say to (y/n). Without being pushy, I need to explain the imprint in a way that balances out the power. It was obvious by her words and reactions that she felt I was trapping her, leaving her with no choice but to be with me. I can see how alarming that would be; a stranger coming on to you strongly would freak me out, too.

Driving that point across was important. The other part I needed to make right was her perception of me. I was so much more than anger. And I could be so much for her if she only asked.

If I could get her to see beyond her concept of 'Paul', the asshole who screamed at the guys who saved her and then argued with her when he was supposed to explain imprinting, I would be golden.

Recovering my image wasn't impossible. I'd just have to be more patient with my imprint. If I could be patient for anyone, it would be (y/n).

Thanks for reading! I appreciate all of you who have read this fic, liked- reblogged- commented- sent an ask! You are AWESOME!

[autumnslance]

Hey Aeryn, I was wondering what you recommend to get past FOMO and overthinking. I know I shouldn't feel this way but I can't shake it. I want to play all of the story but I start to feel anxious. I start overthinking and second-guessing and the cycle starts again. I have a WOL I'm enjoying writing but I can't get her to translate in-game. Any advice?

I admit, I don't often get FOMO, but when I do, I stop and ask myself: is this something I actually want to do? A place I actually want to go? An experience I need? An item I want? Or am I just reacting to others, especially friends, having fun and talking about a thing together, so it's pinging a social desire/need?

Cuz I can interact and talk with my friends in other ways and places. I don't have to do all the things they do, play the games they play, etc. I use in built filters and blacklists on my social media to not see things about games/shows/etc that I don't want hear about, and I stop following a lot of (usually sideblogs) accounts that deal with those topics. When I left WoW behind, I dropped a lot of those blogs, for instance.

(I think some people would be happier if they put down media they don't actually enjoy but only watch/play because the people in their lives do.)

What about playing the game is making you anxious? Is it doing the content? Most can be done solo now, but friends can help with the stuff that can't be, or there's always duty finder. Is it story and character direction? Afraid things will happen to your faves, or they'll grown and change in ways you don't care for? That's a risk in any ongoing media, and up to an individual where their "I'm done" point is where they don't enjoy that lore and canon anymore, and then make the decision to change it in fanfiction or drop the story altogether.

With everyone talking about new content right now, even trying to keep spoilers under wraps, it can be rough for sure. Everyone has opinions! And screenshots! And there's new fanfic!

Is the anxiety because of the WoL you started writing, and how she doesn't "translate" in game, and afraid the lore will continue to make that harder?

In that case, look at what the character is, what you've written...and what the character (your subconscious, really) is telling you they actually are, or need. If they don't fit the canon lore...It's OK. Change the story to fit as needed. Or....play through it and see what ends up working after all, with the benefit of knowledge.

You can't lock a character in stone; a story happens because characters want something (large or small), and in the course of the story they are changed in some way (large or small). WoL is an anime protagonist with plotstrong abilities and gifts that give players a lot of leeway in any direction. Some people don't play WoLs at all. Their OC is a person they roleplay and write about in the setting, the plot happens to someone else, and they just play the video game with that avatar.

So what isn't "translating"? Is it appearance related that can't be done without mods and artwork? Disabilities that likewise are tricky to show in game (which assumes a mostly able-bodied WoL)? A backstory that seems to not fit (the world's bigger than what we see)? A lot of detailed backstory and supporting cast that now make you feel boxed into a corner?

It can be hard, seeing people with deeply developed stories and characters and supporting cast, but you also have to remember: a lot of that is built over time. Aeryn didn't have nearly the detailed list of relatives to start, didn't have the "dad was a secret heretic" backstory until 4 years into playing her. I still haven't named all of Dark's siblings. I've seen some folks entirely rewrite their characters cuz something in an expansion spoke to them and it made more sense and made them happier than what they did before.

When I start overthinking a character story, I put the backstory away, and just play them for a bit. I keep a vague idea of what I think their personality might be, what reactions would seem right. And then I let "them" guide me as I play. And sometimes what a character tells me ends up far more interesting. Or I find the stuff I was anxious about adding to them...ends up being canon, or at least working out, anyway.

And if the concern is what other people will think about one's WoL....well, you can't control what others think. And trying to please everyone leaves you with a milquetoast bland sop who isn't interesting at all. Care about the character you want to write, even if that changes, and make them as interesting as you want.

I was saying in a convo yesterday that the shrieking about "Mary Sue and how to not be one" caused lasting societal trauma and people are still afraid of giving characters interesting traits and stories. A person was anxious about giving their WoL traits that might make them 'too much' or 'too special' but they're traits WoL canonically has. We're in an anime story as anime protagonists, be wild and weird. Not everyone will like it, and that's good, actually. Cuz others will love it, and it means you gave your writing and characters personality.

Final Fantasy XIV is a game that 90% of the time, the content isn't going anywhere. You go at your pace, you enjoy the story and side content. There's a lot, after 11 years. Do what you gotta to avoid spoilers, gushing, complaining, or otherwise talk about content you're not in yet to reduce the worry everyone else is having fun while you're spinning wheels a few expacs back. Figure out what you enjoy and love about the game, and focus on that for awhile. Let your WoL breathe, and just play without plotting out how they translate or fit, and remember stories aren't set in stone; they have to be malleable. Especially when trying to write/roleplay in someone else's world!

You should be in this for yourself. Because you find it fun, relaxing, enjoyable to experience. Because you want to tell a character's story even if it takes a hard left turn from canon lore. And if you have to mute and filter out and block some things and people on social media or chat or whatever, do what works for you. But when overthinking, turn that around and interrogate yourself: "OK, why do I feel this way? Why would this be bad? Do I want this or am I trying to follow the crowd?" Make lists, pros and cons. Figure out if it's actually FOMO and anxiety...or if you're trying to tell yourself something and you're just not listening.

Give yourself grace. This game is just one piece of our life's tapestry, and while there's probably friends who want to see you clear content, the world won't end if you don't catch up to the current patch right away, or write a 200k fic about your WoL's life by year's end, either. Go at your pace.

[entomolog-t]

Hi, how are you doing today?

Do you have any advice for anyone new to the gt community

(I'm actually a little to ask since it is my first time talking about it. I did send an anonymous scenario here since I was nervous to ask it and it made me smile seeing it)

Well first off- Welcome!

I'm going to be honest, it can feel a bit quiet at first getting into the community. When I first started posting years ago it felt like I was just throwing stuff into a void hoping someone would shout back.

And eventually they did.

The more I started interacting with others the more connections I made in the community- commenting on stuff I liked, dming creators, reblogging with goofy tags, making silly memes, the more people began engaging with my content as well.

I think the two best ways to feel the enjoyment of the community are to engage with others, and create an avenue for others to engage with you as well! Its such a small community that any form of engagement is usually a lot for creators here (even extremely popular creators don't typically have more than 10 comments). The silverlining to such a small community is that theres not a huge barrier to making friends.

That can be writing or art sure- but silly little shitposts, memes, prompts, or even just questions are things that people like to interact with! I think the posts that get most engagement from myself are my lil "g/t brainrot" scenarios - which is just me half writing scenarios I get fixated on a lot, which I'll leave vague enough that others can feel free to use the idea.

My last piece of advice is no matter what you do, make it a space that works for you. You don't have to interact with anyone you don't feel comfortable with, don't let yourself feel pressured to create continuous content, etc.

I've seen lots of individuals come and go over the years over a myriad of things- and I think a lot of that can be mitigated by keeping your blog a fun place for you.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE COMMUNITY!

[mangatxt]

any advice on how to improve writing style/get ideas for fics and dialogue? i’m forever in love with the way you write. it flows well, and the dialogue is super authentic and funny. i’m trying to get back into writing after a couple years of being crushed by the american secondary education system, so any tips would be much appreciated.

keep it up with the good work! i look forward to continue reading :))

Holy moly, this is a super kind ask. I'm so happy to know that you enjoy my work. Thank you for sending this!

As for the meat of this ask -- I'll do my best! I'll offer some reflections and then link some resources I've personally found helpful! I apologize for the length of this answer. This ask gave me a lot to think about, and brevity is my weakness as a writer.

I answer this with a few caveats:

I'm not an expert. I'm just loud.

I teach writing for a living, but I don't teach creative writing specifically. I do, by nature of my job, have more time for reading and writing than I did as a full-time student or corporate employee. That alone makes a huge difference. Everyone goes at their own pace, and it's hard to be creative without time, especially when you're starting out or getting back into writing after a break.

I write humor, so I'll discuss that primarily. While writing has rules that generally yield better results, comedy works often because it violates those established rules. Like many writing teachers, I have fully internalized the touted "canon" of Strunk & White's Elements of Style and George Orwell's Remedy of Six Rules. But sometimes, adverbs are funny. So I'll write an adverb, say "fuck you George Orwell," and, scandalously, call it a day.

If you want to deconstruct and consequently ruin comedy forever, start with Theories of Humor and then, to extend your suffering, hit the footnotes.

Humor writing is culturally dependent. You won't make everyone laugh. You'll flop. You'll embarrass yourself. You have to be willing to risk being unfunny. So it goes.

You can always publish anonymously on AO3 if it helps you start. Or for any reason. You can change your mind and claim it back to your account. Or you can abandon it entirely. I've done it plenty. Sometimes, it's what you need to do to draw up the nerve to put yourself out there, and that's completely fine.

Reflections

My first personal rule is that I write stories for myself, fic or original. If someone else likes it, that's a bonus. I write what I want to read. That factors into my overall writing style too. I write how I'd want someone else to write it for me. Even if someone's written it before, which is often the case with fic writing and popular tropes, I might want to hear it in another way. See: The Two Cakes Principle.

My second personal rule is that I write something every day. Even if it's a little bit. Even if it's all trash. Anything's better than nothing. Write without editing. Write without your spell checker on, even. (As they say "write drunk, edit sober" -- I don't drink much, so for me that means "write at 3AM, edit at not 3AM"). The more you play around with words and practice your voice, the easier it will get. Part of this is honing the muscle or whatever, but part of this is also gaining familiarity with structure that will make writing forever easier. How do journalists crank out stories everyday? There's a structure to newspaper and magazine articles that makes it easier to plug in the words and go. You'll find your own in creative writing too. Plus, the more you write, the easier it is to let go of things (aka kill your darlings). (Killed darlings go in your bits folder.)

My third personal rule is that I write every idea down, no matter how vague or ridiculous, because I might be able to use it later. I never want to lose things. I use my phone notes for this. They're full of silly ideas -- funny things I overhead at the library, out-of-context conversations I imagine Reigen and Dimple having, Wikipedia articles that I liked, funny plot concepts, etc. The other day, I wrote down, "The gang carbon-dates Dimple." I dunno where I'm going with that, but I like the idea. I write a lot of my plot ideas in IASIP title card style. It's more fun that way. Always prioritize having fun.

One last personal rule is that the mechanical act of writing has a purpose. You're rarely writing for the purpose of writing well, right? Most of the time, in class or at work, I'm writing for the purpose of being understood by my audience, and therefore, I do whatever I must to make my message better understood, even at the expense of "good writing." Here's a silly example: I've learned the hard way that some of my co-workers can't fucking read. So instead of paragraphs, I write emails in bullet points with bold and underlined text. At the expense of prose, the message is more likely received, and that's the goal.

This example might be on the nose, but it applies in some way to everything I write. When I write fic, I have to have a purpose. Maybe I'm trying to make myself laugh. Maybe I'm trying to explore some theme or feeling. Maybe I'm trying to correct canon. Maybe I'm trying to speculate how the conman will handle a Situation. Whatever that end is, I find the writing comes easier when I focus on the end more than the process of writing. It helps me stay focused, when I remember that writing's just the tool. I hope that makes sense.

Developing a writing style or a narrative voice depends on the writer. I'm an amalgamation of what I've read and watched and enjoyed, combined with formal writing education and my own personal narration. I hate to be the person who says "read a lot to write more!" I hate it so so so much, but...it's true. (That said, it doesn't have to be the classics. I get inspiration from there, sure, but I also get inspiration from sitcoms and crossword clues and the inane HOA emails my landlord forwards to me. "Honored neighbors, we are ecstatic to announce fire alarm testing next week..." Like, I'm sorry? That's a work of art I've filed away for later.)

For fics, some of the way I write is homage to the original creator. I consider this a plus, not a requirement. ONE writes satire. He's foremost a humorist. Most of his works are genre deconstructions. Like most shonen mangaka, he writes shorter narrative arcs that sum to (or in his case, reflect across) the overall narrative arc of the work. He's also pretty cringe/over-the-top with wordplay and cultural references (pop and traditional). When I try to reflect elements of his style in my own work, I find his characters easier to work with. For me, it's hard to write something fully comedic or fully serious with MP100 characters. The alternation between comedy and tragedy in MP100 works because it plays on emotional investment in the characters and subversion of expectations.

That said, I'm going to have to add something controversial: as a fic writer, how much you adhere to the original work doesn't fucking matter. (See my first rule -- write what you want to read.) Fic writing is meant to be transformative. The amount that you should care about canon depends on what you're trying to accomplish. My advice is to play fast and loose as much as you want. Unfollow and block the "he wouldn't fucking say that" people if it helps you write. I do, because they're annoying. Characterization is a product of audience internalization. Further, every work is for someone. Most importantly, you're doing this for fun, not pay or obligation. Sure, maybe ONE wouldn't write Reigen saying a particular line, but ONE also writes homophobic stereotypes into his works. No matter what you do, by definition of writing a fan work, you're gonna stray from canon. It's not holy word. Don't waste your finite man hours stressed about it.

Moving on to discussion of "get ideas" -- I mentioned I write every idea down. I try to stick with ideas I know fairly well off the bat, because it's easiest to write what you know. In absence of that, I find more inspiration in the research into an idea. Much of the action in TPC was heavily inspired by George Santos's many misdeeds, which I read in the news or on Wikipedia.

If I can distill the idea into a premise, it informs my narrative voice in a given work. Write what you know applies to premise as much as character perspective. You're always going to have an easier time writing a character you relate to or you encounter in real life and know quite well. You might consider this to get started. Personally, I find Reigen and Mezato easiest to write, because I relate to them the most. I find Serizawa and Shigeo more difficult to write, because I have more trouble relating to their life experiences. On the other hand, I find Roshuuto easy to write, because his brand of villainy is more familiar to me.

There's this notion of plotting vs pantsing. A plotter outlines every facet of their work before doing any writing. A pantser makes it up as they go (read: "by the seat of their pants"). Figuring out which one you are will enable you to write more comfortably.

Personally, I'm somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. For MP100, I always know where a work will end when I start. In TPC, the second scene I ever wrote was the epilogue. For me, the middle is what's more up in the air. In my experience, it's very difficult to be a total pantser and write comedic multi-chapter works, unless you write the whole thing before you post. It's not impossible, but in my opinion, humor relies on callbacks and repetition so much that you risk writing yourself into a wall if you're not careful. In general, I don't start formally "fic writing" without an overarching premise, but the premise might be as simple as: "Against everyone's better judgment, Reigen runs for union president. It blows up in his face."

This was my original outline for TPC before I even wrote chapter one:

I had the overarching narrative and the rough timeline for the mini-arcs in mind when I started. A lot of it ended up changing or shifting. I had a few themes I wanted to cover and comedic elements I wanted to set up. But when it came down to more specific mini-arc narrative details, I either plotted later or got away with pantsing it entirely.

Sometimes as I write chapters, I get stuck on individual scenes. Maybe I'm struggling to write scenery, or I haven't figured out a character interaction, or the dialogue isn't flowing the way I'd like. To deal with that, I have trained myself to write out of narrative order as needed. I write the scenes I'm most excited about first, and then I come back and fill in the rest of the connective tissue. This is easier in Scrivener, which is what I use to write, but you can set up any word processor to do this. Even within scenes, I sometimes skip parts that I need to think about for longer. Sometimes, I don't even finish sentences.

I'll write something like:

"Apparently you're quite popular on a particular Mobbit sub," he tells Reigen. Reigen's not sure he wants to know which one. "It was r/<SOMETHING FUNNY>. Did you know they hit a million subscribers this week? I think you helped."

And then in the middle of the night or in the shower or at the grocery store or whenever I think of "<SOMETHING FUNNY>", I fill it in later. When I edit, I make sure I clear out any remaining "<>." I do what I can, and then Future Ani does the rest. *handshake emoji*

For comedy writing, there are rules I follow that I'll link later on. While I've been inspired by a lot of other humor novelists or essayists, I also take a lot of inspiration from TV and standup.

I took a screenwriting class in college -- and while I didn't get the knack of screenwriting (B-, unlucky), I did learn a lot about plot progression, dramatic irony, show-not-tell, rule of threes, and scene setting. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I found it helpful. You can see some of that inspiration manifest, for example, in that many of my fics have cold opens. I've always liked that comedic structure for drawing in the reader while establishing an overarching theme for the chapter. I do a lot of scene-switching and flashbacks as well. Scene-setting in comedy often involves juxtaposition -- e.g. "what if we put the weirdest loner from 7th division in a highly-collaborative corporate setting?". You're subverting expectations, and this is where you break the rules. Sometimes, comedy is about using the funniest word or word combination possible to describe something.

On that note, take some tips from poetry too. Alliteration, repetition, synecdoche, a lot of poetic devices work well here, because, like poetry, comedy writing depends on build-up and timing. Rules are best broken when it's rare and unexpected. It's way funnier and impactful when a character who never swears drops an f-bomb when they've finally had enough. Here's another example: in general, you should avoid epithets in fic writing, but it's all about being judicious with your timing. I can call Reigen "the union's esteemed president" instead of his name in a scene in Executive Privilege, because I juxtapose it with him doing something less-than-esteemed.

Perhaps less obviously, the TV influence manifests in the way I write dialogue too -- shorter and generally interleaved between the characters. While I read everything I write out loud during editing to check flow, I especially focus on tightening up dialogue. I don't always get it right, but I try to make sure that every word in a piece of dialogue has to have a purpose: either characterization or timing, in that order. Serizawa uses a lot of "I think" or "In my opinion." Reigen...does not do that. And Dimple is a master of the last word in the form of a pithy quip. If I plan my scenes to use that characterization to support the comedic timing I'm shooting for, it works all the better. (e.g. -- let Reigen babble on like an expert about something he doesn't actually know anything about, let Serizawa think on it for a while and come to a conclusion that puts Reigen on the spot, let Reigen backtrack, and then let Dimple add his jab at the end. And scene.)

Aaand that's a lot of reflection. Probably too much reflection. These are some considerations that have helped me over time, so I hope others might find it helpful too. Getting started is tough, and it's often terrifying to put your work out there (and somehow, even more terrifying to put a GDoc in front of a beta reader, I haven't a clue why but it's true for me!). But once you start, I promise it gets easier! You'll build yourself a foundation and continue to pick up things you like, discard things you don't like, and grow from there.

Thanks again for sending this ask. It means a lot to me. Happy to continue the conversation and field other people's thoughts on any of this! Like I said, this is a reflection on my process, but everyone develops their own unique approach to writing over time. Mine changes over time too. Above all, I hope you can heal from the crush of the education system, find enjoyment in writing again, and discover the style and process that works for you <3

Resources (AKA things I personally have bookmarked):

general writing (in addition to Strunk&White, Orwell, and others mentioned earlier):

how to get out of a writing slump (this fixed me once)

masterlist of general writing resources

another big ass masterlist

resources for describing places

masterlist of facial expressions

how to write an inciting incident

i found this recently: cultural differences writing work set in japan

i also follow writing prompt blogs, nanowrimo, character and relationship week blogs, etc. prompts can be a great way to start and build community with other writers!

comedic writing:

basic tips on writing humor

comedic devices

comedic genre

i can't find the link for this BUT: humor and comedy is not inherently less complex or wise or valuable than non-comedic work. writing is writing and fics are fics, whether they make the reader laugh, cry, or both.

[wheels-of-despair]

Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

{<-Previous} [There Is Nothing Wrong with You] {Next->}

Summary: You and Ralph have a heart-to-heart after the shopping incident. Words: 1.9k

Ralph was always nervous when you were late. He wondered if something bad happened to you on the way. Or if your mother had found out who you were really meeting. Or if you'd found someone better. Or that you'd simply decided he wasn't worth your time.

But when you stumbled in to your secret little place today, your eyes and nose were red. He jumped up immediately, gently grasped your arm, and escorted you the final few steps to the bench.

"Are you alright? What's happened?"

"It's nothing, Ralph." He was not convinced.

"It is very clearly something. What's upset you? Is there anything I can do?" You stare at the ground and nudge a twig with your shoe. Ralph desperately wants to press the issue, but with great effort, bites his tongue and opts to let you continue on your own time.

"Why do you meet me out here every day, Ralph?"

Your voice is so quiet when you finally speak, Ralph doesn't think he heard you right. "Pardon?"

You look up at him and ask, louder this time, "Why do you meet me out here every day?"

"Because I enjoy your company?"

You close your eyes and sigh. He panics. Was this the wrong answer? Are you going to leave him?

"Is that not the answer you were looking for? Tell me what you want to hear, and I will say it."

"Why, Ralph?"

"Because I adore you!" You shake your head and look away. He feels a sinking feeling in his gut. "Do you doubt that I adore you?"

"How could you, Ralph?"

How could he? What had he done? "If I've done something to displease you, please tell me what it is so I can apologize and correct my mistake."

You lean forward and place your head in your hands. Ralph racks his brain, trying to think of anything he's done that could have distressed you so.

"Please, tell me what I've done to upset you. Whatever it is, I'm sorry, and it will never happen again."

You sob. SOB. Ralph has made you sob. He launches himself to the ground, on his knees in front of you, prepared to beg for forgiveness. He places his hands on your knees, and you sit up out of shock.

"Ralph, what are you doing, you're going to get dirty down there."

"I don't care, please tell me what I've done, and let me atone for it."

"You haven't done anything, Ralph."

"Then tell me what's wrong!"

"This."

"This?"

"This, Ralph. This is what's wrong." Ralph has never been more lost in his life. "Look at you," you gesture, "and look at me." He follows your instructions, and still has no idea what you're talking about.

You heave a sigh and continue.

"In what world could this possibly work? You're bright, you're funny, you're handsome… you're perfect, Ralph. You're everything a girl should want. And I'm…" you gesture vaguely to yourself, "this. I'm plain, I'm boring. Hell, I'm one gray hair away from being officially declared a spinster. Why are we still pretending this could work?"

Ralph feels his heart break. It's happening again. This is the nicest rejection he's ever faced. Even in the final moments of your relationship, you're so kind that you make it sound almost as if you don't think you're good enough for him.

Wait.

Is that it?

"Do you not think you're…" He's not sure how to say it politely. If he's read this wrong, it will be the death of him. Possibly literally.

"I'm not good enough for you, Ralph." It's like you read his mind.

Ralph lets out a surprised laugh, and your eyes fill with tears. "No, no," he reaches forward and places his hands on yours. "I've been trying to convince myself that I'm good enough for you this whole time." You scoff. "Really," he continues, "you're the smartest person I know. And the kindest. And definitely the prettiest. I lie awake at night and worry that you'll meet someone more handsome, or less annoying, in the hours we're not together."

"You don't have to lie to me, Ralph."

"I'm not! I swear it, I'm not!"

"Ralph, you cannot honestly look at me and say I'm the prettiest person you know."

He makes a point to look deep into your eyes, and then he says firmly, "you are the prettiest person in the world." Because you're mine, he thinks. He still sees the doubt in your face, but he can't look away. You close your eyes, and another tear streaks down your cheek. He brings his hands to cup your face.

"Who's put these wicked thoughts into your head, darling?" Ralph Penbury is not a violent man, but he's prepared to fight whoever is responsible for this.

You turn your head and begin to shake. He comes closer to hold you and whisper soothing things in your ear until eventually, you begin to calm down. You take a shaky breath and look at him, then laugh. He's never met a more confusing person in his life.

"You should get off that cold ground and back up here before you catch your death. This is going to take a while." He smiles and joins you on the bench once more, sitting sideways and holding your hands in the middle as you begin telling your tale.

"And then I ran out, leaving all those clothes for the sales girl to put away. Poor Anna was so nice to me. I took up half her morning, and she didn't even get a commission out of me. I'll never be able to show my face there again."

"What shop was this?"

You tell him the name, picturing sweet Anna staring miserably at all the dresses she'd have to hang back up by herself.

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about my sister."

"She's not your fault," you chuckle.

"I know," he says, "but she ought not say such things."

"She wasn't wrong," you say, picking at the fabric of your dress.

"She was."

You shoot him a look. He doesn't need to lie to you.

"You don't have to dress differently because of me."

"It wasn't… just because of you." He looks at you curiously, and your eyes return to the twig-covered ground. "I just…" You struggle with your words, wanting to explain that it wasn't for him, but because of him. Since Ralph had entered your life, everything felt different. YOU felt different. Like maybe you didn't want to be the boring girl who was just there, blending into the background, anymore. But how do you put something like that into words without sounding crazy? You sigh in resignation. "I just thought it was time to try something different."

"I quite like the way you look."

"Right," you said sarcastically. He tried, you'll give him credit for that.

"Really," he insists, "your fashion sense makes you look distinguished."

"Old-fashioned," you counter.

"Elegant," he offers.

"Antique."

"Dignified."

"Primitive."

"Appealing."

"Like a potato."

"Stop that!"

"Ralph, no one bats an eye when they see us together because they think, 'oh look at that kind young man, helping that dear old schoolmarm who's misplaced her glasses, what a gentleman!'"

"You're only a year older than me!"

You laugh. Your mood has improved greatly after your talk with Ralph, and you're only playing with him. However, he hasn't quite caught on yet. You watch the realization dawn on his frowning face. His furrowed brow shoots up, and then lowers as he tilts his head with the faintest trace of a glare. He's never able to look angry for more than a few seconds at a time. It's adorable.

"I don't like it when you talk about yourself that way," he says quietly.

"And I don't like it when you do, either," you match his tone. "You're not annoying. And finding someone as handsome as you would be a real challenge. Especially on the short walk between home and here, since this is practically the only place I ever go," you say with a wink.

He blushes and looks down at your hands, which he's still holding, after all this time.

"I suppose you're wondering why?"

You cock an eyebrow.

"Why I haven't proposed," Ralph clarifies. You'd left nothing out of your unfortunate shopping story.

"Ralph, I'm not fishing for a proposal," you attempt a smile.

"You don't think it insulting that you're the only girl in London I haven't proposed to?" he asks bitterly.

"Should I?" It comes out a little more harsh than you intended, and he flinches. You immediately feel a pang of guilt.

"How many girls have you proposed to?" you ask, your voice softening. You'd always thought the rumors of Ralph's marriage obsession were overblown, but now he had you worrying.

"Three."

"Three?"

"Three," he confirms.

You laugh. He looks at you as if he's offended.

"That's all? Three?" You laugh harder. "Ralph, the way everyone talks, I thought you were at least in the double digits. Three is nothing!"

He still looks downtrodden. "It's still three rejections. Don't you want to know what's wrong with me? There's a list."

"Ralph, there is nothing wrong with you. You just picked girls who weren't ready for all the love you have to give. It's their loss."

Ralph's eyes begin to water.

"Stop that," you order. "This bench has reached its daily crying limit. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

He laughs.

The next morning, you were putting a book back on the shelf in the library when you heard a commotion in the entrance hall. Peeking your head out, you saw a large stack of boxes accumulating near the front door. You came out to investigate.

"What's all this?" you asked Nancy, the pretty blonde maid, who was holding the door open.

"Didn't you go shopping yesterday?"

"I didn't buy anything." You look for a tag or a card, and then sweet Anna appears in the doorway with her hands full of shopping bags.

"Hello again, miss!"

"Anna, I was coming back, honest--"

"I know, miss, you told me yesterday. But the young gentleman dropped in last night and said to send over everything you'd tried on, so you could see it in your own light. I think this is everything. You can bring back anything you don't want, or have it altered for free, as one of our preferred customers. It's all taken care of."

"Excuse me?"

"The young gentleman took care of everything. He even picked out a few things for you himself. Some of the best things in the shop!"

Your hand comes to cover your mouth, not knowing what to say.

Sweet Anna moves aside as the driver stacks the last of the boxes next to Nancy. "Please let us know if we can do anything else for you, miss. Hope to see you again soon!"

You nod and manage to croak out a "thank you" as she returns to the car, smiling from ear to ear. You're guessing Anna got her commission, and then some, from "the young gentleman."

You watch the car pull away and turn back to Nancy, who is staring at you with a devilish twinkle in her eye.

"There was a sale."

"Sure there was," she laughs.

"Not a word," you say in what you hope is a mildly threatening voice.

"A word about what? A successful shopping trip with a girlfriend?"

"This is why you're my favorite."

You and Nancy laugh and begin hauling boxes up to your room.

[gingerlegacy07]

Writer Interview Game

Thank you @morelikeravenbore for the tag! Everyone please check out her blog! She's a great writer with a beautiful MC!

When did you start writing? I was around 12/13 when I first wrote an actual little story. I loved doing it once for an assignment at school and from there on I kept writing. Mostly it was little love stories I made up, but when I was 15 I really got into Cinema Bizarre and wrote a (very bad, very cringey) chaptered story about them. I also wrote a pretty big Supernatural story in Dutch, but I never continued it after about 30 chapters. I stopped writing for a few years after that. I always loved reading fanfiction though and once I got into Kpop when I was 20, I started writing a little bit again. Mostly oneshots and all. After that I didn't write in over 8 years. Well, at one point I did try my hand on an orginal story, but I'm not even two chapters in so... Anyway, when HL came out I really got obsessed with it. And I started reading fanfiction about it. Before I knew it I was writing again and this time actually finished every story I started haha. Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write? The only trope rather than genre that I enjoy reading, but haven't written (yet lol) is enemies-to-lovers. I absolutely love that trope, but only if it's done well. And I have not yet dared to try it because I feel like I wouldn't make it good. But one day I do really want to try writing it. Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often? No. I'd rather have my own style and so far I haven't been compared to someone. Though I do admit that since I read most books in English, I've gotten some ideas of describing certain scenes or use certain wording in my writing. Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? Simple; on my bed, on my couch or sitting at my dinner table haha. I'll admit I've even wrote a bit at work lol. I don't really care for the space around me. All I need is my laptop and the inspiration/want to write and the words will come to me.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse? Listening to music, reading or watching a movie. Basically seeing or hearing anything that tells a story. A lot of times it either brings me ideas on how to proceed or it creates a vague outline for me which I want to expand and write a oneshot. I have a few stories written that are heavily based on a song. But sometimes I want to progress my WIP and want something to happen, just that I don't know what. Music, video's or book can help with that. Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you? Absolutely. Heartbreak, fluffiness, happy family life. With nsfw fics it's the aftercare scene and there's almost always some form of trauma. It doesn't surprise me as those themes are the ones I love to write and feel comfortable writing. Happy family life and aftercare is something I enjoy writing a lot and fluff is something I write because I'm a huge empath and need some fluff (especially after writing a very angsty scene or oneshot) to heal me. Heartbreak can make for the most delicious and soulcrushing angst and trauma does that too. They also help with character development; your character goes through something terrible and you'll need to write them dealing with it and moving on (or not) from it in their own way. What is your reason for writing? Because I want to read something that I haven't seen before or is hard to find and then I decide, well I can just write it myself. For example: with HL, I stuck to reading fanfiction until I started shipping Ominis and Poppy together. There were hardly any fics out there and the very few that were, only had them as a minor side couple. So I decided I wanted to write something with them, where they develop a friendship that turns into a relationship overtime. Very slowburn. At the same time I wanted people to read it or at least get interested and since I was sure just writing them as a main couple might not work (and honestly, I do love me some good SebastianxMC), I decided to make the main characters SebastianxReader (so whoever read it could insert either themselves, their own MC or someone they made up on the spot) with Ominis and Poppy as a pretty big side couple. So yeah, my main reason for writing is because I always got ideas in my head that I would love to read, but is hard to find. Thus I try writing it myself. Is their any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating? Honestly, any kind of positive comment is already motivating to me. But whenever someone takes their time to give a bit more details to their thoughts about my writing, it is extremely motivating for me to write more. It always helps to know someone likes it enough to leave a long comment and with giving their thoughts, I can get a bit of perspective on what my readers like/do not like. How do you want to be thought about by your readers? Good question. I don't necessarily want them to have a particular opinion about me, but I'd be flattered if, whenever they see my name besides a title, they think along the lines of: Oh I do like her stories. I dunno. It's always nice to know people enjoy your work, but as far as having an opinion about me, it doesn't matter really. What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? I think understanding the characters I write and sticking to that while I develop their growth in my stories. How do you feel about your own writing? Not gonna lie, I always thought it was trash, but ever since I started writing for HL I actually like it now. Still, the first few chapters of my trilogy are a bit... icky to me, but overall I think I do a decent job at writing and it's pretty good. Most importantly; I love it!

That was fun! Thank you for whoever made this :D NP tags: @writingannyred @polarisgreenley @zetadraconis11 @sallowslove @mspegasus17

[blackkatmagic]

Hey, blackkat!

I've been reading your star wars fanfictions for a while now and I'm seriously intrigued by all of them. My favorite is running with lightning feet and I'm currently reading efface the footprints in the sands--poor Master Kolar...

Anyway, I really wonder how you approach writing. You seem to be able to write very consistently and keep track of many stories all at once, which are things I admire very much about you. Would you be able to give some advice on that?

Also, I very much love your characterization of more 'minor' (less appearance in canon) characters and how you breathe life into them with your dialogue. Really make me wonder how you make that out--what do you consider, or do the characterization/dialogue just pop up, fleshing themselves out?

Yeah, I really hope you don't mind me asking these. Again, love your writing very much. Would continue to read your stories always~~ Thank you for sharing them (and putting all your effort into writing them!)

Hi! I definitely don't mind, and I've answered similar questions before in my writing advice tag, if you want to scroll through some other answers that might be worded better.

For how I approach writing...the inconvenient answer is that it's mostly practice. I've been giving myself a goal of 500 words every day for the last....10-ish years, probably? Just consistently sitting down and doing a thing, writing without worrying about quality and only quantity, with lots of WIPs always going at the same time, really helps in figuring out how to juggle them. I usually keep a file of vague notes, one doc for each WIP with a bunch of keywords and ideas I want to hit eventually, and plot twists I'm aiming for, though I don't ever really outline things, and that helps a lot with keeping track, too.

As far as characterization of minor characters goes, that's the part I enjoy most about writing, and it's one of the easier parts for me, so I'm not sure I'm the best at putting it into words. But basically, you have to get to the very core of how you see the character - what their baseline personality is, what motivates them, what their goals are. It's something that can change between fics (which I think is one of the joys of minor characters; you don't have to stick to one defined interpretation), but it is something you have to nail down, imo. It also takes some filling in the gaps with headcanon and some leaps in logic.

Take Agen for example: canon gives us the information that he lost his padawan on Geonosis, incorporated Tan's lightsaber crystal into his own, and is an incredible swordsman but too blunt and aggressive to be diplomatic, while still being very loyal to the Council/Order. He gets called "the Council's attack dog" in the comics. Also, in the wider universe, we know that Zabraks have a reputation for being aggressive/warlike, and at one point Qui-Gon calls Maul it, even though he has to know what Zabraks are.

Those are all the canon facts. If you go back and fill in the gaps: Agen is someone who's grieving deeply, and he's incredibly devoted. He uses Tan's lightsaber crystal against Palpatine, which means he's sentimental, and he's not willing to speak against the Order in public, so he's at least that tactful. At the same time, he has no patience for people who get in his way, and he's willing to use force to cut through them. He believes in other Jedi until they irrevocably prove themselves traitors, and then he's stern and willing to remove them by whatever means. At the same time, he's very aware of his reputation, and he knows what people say about him/other Zabraks, but he's stubborn enough (at peace with himself enough) that he's not going to change.

From that sort of character summary, you can figure out the way Agen talks pretty easily. He's blunt, and he doesn't always think about the impact of his words, but he can be compassionate and thoughtful, particularly given his own grief. He's willing to defend anyone, and he doesn't make a fuss but always tends towards action - that means short sentences, usually directly to the point with no niceties. He's polite, because that's usually the fastest way to achieve something, but he's not overly deferential. He has a sense of humor, but most people miss it because he's so blunt.

Taking a character and dissecting them like that is something I have a lot of fun doing, which, well. I'm a therapist irl, so that probably helps. But I think it's very much just about breaking a character down into component parts and applying them to whatever you're writing - if you understand why someone reacts a certain way, it's a thousand times easier to figure out how they're going to react in a new situation. And after that, getting them to sound right, getting your dialogue to fit - it's all about practice.