#given that i'm trying to write half as many stories as i wrote all last month

[bookshelf-in-progress]

June Writing Wishlist

Finish something for each of the unfinished Chesterton Challenge prompts (current plans are for two pieces of flash fiction, a bit of Arateph worldbuilding, and two scenes from Shadowstruck)

Write at least 10,000 words of a single project (or, possibly, divide it up between two shorter retellings)

[fficway]

Distracting Dancing Donnie

Synopsis: You need a dance partner for an assignment, and your pride won't allow you to ask Donnie.

ROTTMNT Donnie x Reader insert. (No gender specified). Reader is either in high school and friends with the current turtles, or in college and friends with aged-up turtles, whichever is closer to your age/preference.

[This has all the fluff. A personal friend requested a one shot so I wrote this. I personally thought it was a little too cheesy or that I lost the characters' personalities somewhere along the line, but the friend who requested it loved it so I decided to share! I proofread it but I know there are still grammar mistakes. Also copying and pasting to Tumblr made me lose some of my typographical emphasis, so I did my best to fix it.]

In all the years you've known the turtles, you've never messed up so badly.

You've never hurt or betrayed any of them. Especially not to the extent that you've done today.

"How could you choose Señor Hueso as your dance partner over me?!" Donnie is whom you've betrayed on this historical day.

You had never let your grades slip in any of your classes, not even in the midst of pizza parties with the turtles or infiltrating The Foot with April. However in recent months you've become somewhat distracted.

Ok, more than somewhat. You had always had an affinity for the tech-wiz turtle, just an infatuation if you will. You thought it was something that would come to pass over time, just a small, childish crush. Until the years passed by and you've gotten that much closer with the turtles. Being with them through thick and thin, helping to bandage their injuries, cheering them on whether it be in a fight against mutants, or competition amongst themselves.

You've seen them laugh, you've seen them cry, you've seen them hurt, hell, you've even seen them sick with the rat flu (which you got 4 new gifts from thanks to the seventh "Must Say Yes" stage!) And what you thought to be a little crush did not fade. In fact, with every rescue Donatello had accomplished, saving you in the knick of time, every scwabble he took your side on, every invention he explained to you with that excited fire in his eyes, you found yourself incredibly distracted by your growing feelings for him.

Distracted enough that your history grade had slipped. Hence, where you are today. Your teacher was assigning a "historical dances around the world" assignment with a contest, the winner receiving extra credit, and you were given Salsa as your assigned dance. Writing a report to go with it is the easy part. Dancing it is an entirely different story. So you decided to go with who Leo describes as an expert: Señor Hueso.

"Donnie, if it were an 80's dance like Disco or The Robot, of course I'd have asked you. But my grade is on the line here and I need an expert!" You told him a half-truth. As much as you'd want to, you don't think you could ever bring yourself to ask Donnie to dance with you. You've seen him dance! You'd just get distracted again and short circuit right there on the dance floor! You want your grade to go up, not down!

"Actually Disco dancing was created in the 1960's, and whereas the Robot was popularized in the 60's as well, it's origins date back as early as the 1920's-" He was already on a roll, adding in a few dance poses as he elaborated.

"Donnie, look, I'm sorry but I'm trying to win, and Señor Hueso was nice enough to agree to help me. After some begging/convincing from Leo." You mumbled the last part to yourself.

"Scoff! You know as well as I do that you would not receive any award lower than first place with me! Failure is not in my vocabulary!" Donnie exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it's in your record" you mumbled to yourself.

"What! I don't have any failures on my record!" Donnie, who had apparently heard you, argued.

"What about the many L's you took in our shell games to moi?" Leo leaned his weight on his brother's head.

"I only recall besting you and taking your room from you." Donnie cockily brushed off Leo.

"And all the sports games we lost because of you?" Raph added from his seat on the couch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, I don't even partake in sports ball." Donnie retorted with a couple flicks of his wrist, as if dusting off the allegation.

"And when you got us attacked by one of your many evil robots?" Mikey shouted from the skate ramp.

"That doesn't sound like me." He crossed his arms.

"And the many projects you failed to help me with?" April added showing the pictures on her phone of every one of Donnie's combustible experiments.

"That must be the work of a different, lesser genius mutant ninja turtle." Donnie crossed his arms.

You clicked the projector on where a video played of Donnie yelling "I can fix this!" repeatedly in multiple different clips where different inventions of his glitched, shut down, got destroyed, self-destructed, or turned evil.

"Hmm, does my shell armor really look that ingenious from the back?" He wondered with a hand under his chin and one eyebrow raised.

"Donnie!" April shouted.

"OK, I'll admit I may have forgotten a few data points. But I am still undefeated in my dancing! Which is why I feel betrayed that you of all people wouldn't pick me as your dance partner!" He turned back to you.

"Dee, I'm sorry but my mind is made up. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I've got too much at stake and need to take first place." You placed your hand on his shoulder as you explained.

"Et tu, Brute?" He quoted at you, hurt. He brushed off your hand as he turned and sulked stubbornly towards his lab. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when you realize that I was obviously the better choice!" He shouted back.

______________

You felt awful. You felt like you really had betrayed Donnie. It was just dancing, but you knew how much he liked to be relied on, especially outside of his technology. You felt like a kicked puppy.

"Ouch!" Especially your shin that had actually been kicked just now!

"Compañero, you need to keep up."

"Sorry Señor Hueso. I'm just a little... distracted." That word keeps correlating with Donnie and it really needs to cease.

"Well then, if you are too distracted to learn, then I suppose this lesson is over." Señor Hueso sighed as he turned to walk back into his kitchen. He had been kind enough to let you use his restaurant as a makeshift dancefloor during closed hours.

"Hold on there Bone Man!" Leo slid to put his arm around him, stopping his exit. "If teaching the dance steps isn't working, you could at least take this time to teach about the history of the dance for the written report?"

"Yes! Yes please! That would be a huge help, and I'll be sure to pay attention this time!" You gleamed with hopeful eyes, silently thanking Leo's quick thinking. You only had a week to prepare after all.

Señor Hueso sighed, "Fine, as long as you listen closely." He moved over to one of the tables so you all can sit as he began.

"The Salsa was developed by Puerto Ricans and Cubans living here in New York in the late 60s and early 70s. Different regions of Latin America and the United States have distinct salsa styles of their own such as Cuban, Puerto Rican, Colombian, and New York's very own style. I am well learned in all of these styles, but for your dance, I will be teaching you the New York style." He continued on with showing the movements distinct to each style and the differences they show even in the same moves, and you found yourself forcing yourself to take notes even though your mind is wandering to Donnie and how he may have been lighting up with that excitement he wears so well as he explains this same information. Your brain may be wandering but you had turned on a recorder before the lesson started so that you could practice the dance steps at home, and you were smart to leave it recording as Señor Hueso taught about the history of the Salsa.

"Wait, so its similar to the Tango in that it's an improv dance, but more upbeat and free spirited. So then why am I learning choreography? Wouldn't it be more authentic to follow your lead at the contest?" You asked.

"You were under the impression that I was going to be your dance partner at the contest? There seems to be a misunderstanding. I agreed to teach you for a day, not to risk being spotted in your world." He had a point, but the crushing reality hit you in the face like a brick.

"What?! A day? But I thought you were going to teach, practice, and then wear a disguise or something to be my partner for the contest? Leo said that when you combine with your brother you pass for human with skin and bone-"

"No! I would never involve my brother in any kind of plan that could get us exposed to the human world. Additionally I would not stoop so low as to ask my brother for a favor." Hueso muttered to himself, crossing his arms.

"I would!" You exclaimed, panicked. "Leo! Do something!"

"Hey, I've already gotten myself on server and dish washer duty just from asking him to teach you to dance! I say just find a different partner! What about Donnie? You already know that he wanted to be your dance partner, so convincing him will be a piece of cake!" Leo leaned on his sword casually.

"Ugh! But if I ask him now I'll never live it down!" You grumbled with your hands over your face.

"I agree, Donnie can be a sore winner" Leo mused with a deadpan expression. Being defeated by any of his siblings was annoying enough, but Donnie's cocky way of rubbing it in their faces was worse than Leo's.

Ok, so Donnie is not necessarily worse than Leo at being a sore winner, but to Leo he was.

"What about you Leo? You're here with me at the lesson! So you can learn the choreography with me!" You pleaded.

"Woah, as much as I'd love to rub it in Donnie's face that I was picked as a dance partner over him... Ok, scratch that, I'd love to rub it in Donnie's face that I was picked as a dance partner over him, I'm in!"

You fist pumped at Leo agreeing. It's ok! You can still do this! You have time, and Leo's not a bad dancer!

"While I hate being the bearer of bad news, isn't the contest on Friday? The same day that papino here is supposed to be my server for an important dinner being held here in my restaurant?" Hueso interrupted. Leo had agreed to serve at the restaurant for the entire week, and then end his service after helping Hueso serve for an important dinner reservation.

"Relax! It'll be fine! I'll just portal back and forth, help you serve your restaurant," Leo gestures to Hueso, "and help you to win your contest!" He gestures to you. 'And help to make Donnie jealous.' Leo added to himself.

You and Señor Hueso looked at each other unsure.

Eventually it was decided that since Leo had agreed to help serve at the Run of The Mill Pizza for the entire week, that you can practice his portalling back and forth during your dance practice and see if you can get the timing down.

______________

It was a disaster.

"That was a disaster!" Donnie laughed.

Leo and you had consistently topled over each other, stepping on each others feet as he popped in and out of the lair, sometimes with random dishes in hand, sometimes holding one of the restaurant's customers and spinning them instead of spinning you. Eventually you were sitting on the floor of the lair, rubbing your poor, abused feet as Donnie smugly looked down from the railing above.

"It was only our twelfth try! We still have plenty of time to improve!" You shouted up at him. You were mortified.

"Sure, if you subtract the seventeen attempts from yesterday, and the fourteen from the day before-" He started counting on his three fingers.

"Ok! But we almost had it that time! I had a fighting chance! Besides this is supposed to be an improv style dance in its origin so technically we're authentic!" You were spouting nonsense out of desperation. You knew it. And unfortunately for you, Donnie knew it. You had to look away from his smug and cocky grin he was giving you. It didn't help that he was so good looking with that look on his face. And it didn't help that he knew that too.

"Oh dear, if only there were someone proficient at dancing around that could take 'Nardo's place and help you to place first place at the contest. Oh wait, there is and you picked TWO other people over me!" Ugh, you hated when he has something over you to rub in your face like this.

"Look, Dee-"

"If you apologize now and, I don't know, beg maybe? I might agree to win that contest for you through the power of dance! You and I both know that you need the help." Donnie had his hand posed smugly by his face.

You hated when he had something to rub in your face, sure. But what you hated more was when he was a jerk about it too.

"'Beg?' 'Win it for me?' I'm not incompetent Donatello!" Ooh, you used his full name. Bad sign. "I don't need your help with this stupid dance contest. And frankly? I don't even want it!" You shouted up at him before turning away to gather your things. And here you were about to finally ask him as a last resort. Even with the risk that you'd mess it all up and somehow accidentally reveal to the turtle how badly you had fallen for him, you were desperate, and knew it was only logical to ask Donnie. But after the things he just said now, your pride wouldn't allow it.

"You only have a day before the contest! You’ll come crawling back to me! You'll see!" Donnie shouted after you as you left the lair. He sighed. He knew he messed up. He got full of himself with the notion that you'd maybe be desperate enough to finally ask him! He assumed that if he talked himself up enough and gave you the confidence of a definite win, that he could finally dance with you.

It was no secret that he loved to dance, especially when smitten with someone. Ever since he found himself wanting to ask you to dance with him every time music played in the background of a venue, after some kind of victory, or even when music played during a Jupiter Jim movie, he realised it was due to the growing feelings he had for you. He was not dense in his own feelings, he knew when he was attracted to someone. And he had fallen hard and fast for you years ago, and those feelings had not wavered.

It had hurt that when the opportunity for you to dance with someone came up you had not thought of him. What was worse, when your original partner had been a bust, you had picked his own brother over him, even after he had expressed his interest! (Ok, he expressed offense at not being chosen but in retrospect its the same thing!)

He sighed, slapping a hand over his face. He should apologize, and offer, or rather, ask you properly to dance with him for your contest instead. That's all he wanted was a chance to dance with you. Mixing two of his favorite things together is the ultimate dream. You already express a lot of interest in his tech. Letting him go into as much detail and as long a spiel as his heart desires, and even ask questions! The ultimate sign of interest in his scientific art!

He was just being greedy with wanting to dance with you too, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted you to himself. He wanted you to be as immersed in him as he is in you. He knew all of your favorite things and can even list them in alphabetical order! He knew your allergies and proofed the lair of every possible scenario that could come into contact with you, and even carried extra supplies in his first aid kits especially for you! He knew what makes you laugh, and which nicknames you enjoyed being called the most by him and each of his brothers (though he uses his nickname for you sparingly as he didn't want you to catch on to his knowledge of it).

But he did just overreact. It was probably for a reason that you didnt want to dance with him. Maybe this was a line you were drawing because you caught onto his feelings, and you were trying to distance yourself so you didnt have to hurt him with the rejection. He was spiraling now, thinking the worst when Leonardo popped back into the lair through a portal, laughing with a box of pizza in his hand.

"Hey, do we have that contest in the bag or what?" He smiled, looking around the lair but not finding you.

Donnie sighed as he yelled down to Leo that you already left.

"What? But we didnt even get to discuss how rad our preformance was today! Something must have come up." Leo wondered aloud with a shrug.

"Or, something must have driven them away. Sigh, why am I so bad at taking a hint?" Donnie complained.

"What are you talking about?" Leo asked, skating up to the second level to follow Donnie who was now going off towards his lab. He ate a slice of pizza from the box in his hand.

"Oh nothing. Just realizing that rejection tastes a lot worse than it sounds." Donnie mused aloud. He didn't want to go into detail to his brother, but he knew that if he didn't give an answer he'd never get any peace to sulk to himself.

"What, you were rejected? As a dance partner, or...?" Leo sounded hesitant and unsure but Donnie paid no mind.

"What does it matter? 'Tis but the same definition in my dictionary." Donnie confessed.

"Wait, are we talking about the same 'or?' Is this really happening?" Leo sounded excited, much to Donnie's disapproval. How insensitive to be excited at his brother's heartache.

Leo must have realized his brother's interpretation of his reaction and immediately added context. "Are you really finally admitting your feelings for Y/N? Is that what you're doing here? Did you confess earlier? I want the deets!" Leo sat across from Donnie excitedly. They had gone off track from going towards his lab and had ended up in the kitchen. Donnie needed rocky road to heal his rocky heart.

"Donnie confessed?!" Raph popped out from behind the refrigerator door and Mikey dropped the spoon he was using to stir ingredients together. He was cooking brustle sprouts. Leo put the box of pizza on the table and everyone grabbed a slice as they gathered around.

"No! I did not, exactly, confess anything as I have nothing to confess and you cannot prove otherwise because there is no proof!" Donnie was regretting his decision to go to the kitchen.

"Oh but you just said you being rejected as a dance partner and "or" were the same thing, so what is "or?" Leo smugly explained.

"Ugh! Does it matter? You're the dance partner, not me, and so I'm taking the hint and staying out of it! Now if you'll excuse me, I will be shutting myself inside my lab to work on FAB version 2.14 so that it's even more state of the art. If you need me, leave a message and I will get back to you at the next, convenient, never." Donnie left the kitchen without his ice cream or a goodbye, and the turtles looked around at each other.

"Wow, this dance partner thing really bothered him." Mikey said concerned.

"You know how soft his shell is. Especially for Y/N. We knew it would get to him, but I guess we didn't realize how badly it would hurt him." Raph said sadly.

"Relax you guys! It'll all work out!" Leo waved off their concerns with a smirk.

"Ok, what are you planning Leo?" Raph raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Leo insisted, although him stretching out the word made it less convincing. "On an unrelated note, I need your help at the Run of The Mill Pizza Friday!"

"But that's when the contest is! We were going to root on Y/N at the contest!" Mikey complained.

"Oh, so I guess you don't want a rematch at who's the better waiter that I so obviously won last time." Leo taunted Mikey.

"Oh, you're so on!" Mikey jumped up at the challenge and Raph caught him by the shell.

"Leo, what's up your sleeve?" Raph held Mikey in the air who swung his arms and legs around.

"Only this measuring tape." Leo pulled out a measuring tape seemingly out of nowhere and started holding it up to different parts of Raph's torso. "Say, don't you think you'd look fantastic in the waiter's tuxedo uniform?"

Raph blushed, "Well I have always wanted to try it on."

"Alright! That's what I'm talking about!" Leo hugged his brothers. Now that they were distracted and agreed to working with him at the restaurant Friday, that would leave you no more options to turn to than Donnie when he "accidentally" won't be able to make it on Friday. Leo was a great dancer. Not as great as Donnie (though he'll never admit it aloud), and he had become a master at teleportation. He wasn't as bad as he had made you believe him to be. He knew your and Donnie's ego's and feelings for each other would prevent you both from dancing together, so he set this plan up as soon as you had asked him if he knew anyone who could Salsa dance. Señor Hueso was in on it too, in fact. He never would have asked Leo to work at his restaurant again unless absolutely necessary. But Leo had insisted that he needed to work there as a part of his master plan.

It was all going to work out accordingly. You may not win the prize considering the last minute changes, but you and Donnie would at least have a chance to dance together. And if nothing else were to come out of this, at least he wouldn't owe you a favor anymore for covering for him when he broke Donnie's mini Donnie statue.

_____________

["So none of you are coming tonight?"] You asked, texting the group chat with April and the turtles.

April had started a new intern job at a new's station and couldn't get off to come and cheer you on. You wouldn't have asked her to anyway considering this was a job she had wanted for a while. But you appreciated her fist pump emojis she sent to cheer you on instead.

Raph and Mikey had apparently been needed to help Señor Hueso and Leon at the restaurant so that it would be easier for him to pop in and dance with you while they cover his absence. It made sense so you sent your thanks. Yesterday's final practice had gone somewhat ok, you thought? Maybe having Leo not portal in would make it finally go somewhat well.

Donnie had apparently been left to babysit Mayhem, which you tried to tell yourself was a good thing. You didn't need him to distract you yet again, however you couldn't help how low in your chest it felt like your heart had fallen that even he had bailed on cheering you on. You wanted him to cheer you on. You wanted him to watch you partake in a hobby that he loved so much, to feel more apart of his world and passions. Hell, what you really wanted was to dance with him. You should have sucked up your pride days ago and just asked him. With all the practicing surely you would have had time to get over your embarrassment of dancing so closely to him. You were such an idiot to let an opportunity like this slip away because of your dumb pride!

The teacher's opening speech cut off your thinking. She was announcing the scores from the reports of the essays you all had turned in that morning, as well as saying how many points you needed to win.

You had received a perfect score on your essay! However so did a few other students! It was going to be close! There were 3 judges with the old fashioned score paddles ranging from 0-10. If any of the other students got a perfect 10/10 from even one of the judges, it would be hard to beat with you and Leon's dancing!

You texted Leo nervously, ["We've got this, right?"] But your nerves only grew when he didn't text back during the first student's dance. You kept clicking your phone on and off, checking if you had gotten any missed messages. The student who went 7th had gotten scores 10, 7, and 9! You wanted to throw up at how it made your nerves worse! You texted Leo a few more times before texting Raph, and then Mikey, asking if Leo's phone had died, and that your turn was coming up in two songs. Nothing! You were in a full panick and sent to the group chat asking if anyone had heard from Leo.

["What do you mean? Is he not there yet?" -Donnie]

Ugh, you were mortified that Donnie of course would be the only one to respond.

["No! No 1 is responding! Idk how 2 reach him!"] You texted back. You hated abbreviating texts but this was an emergency and you were almost out of time as the next student's dance ended with a score of 10, 8, and 10! The next student's number was called. Your turn was after.

You kept clicking on and off your phone again but Donnie hasn't respond now either.

["Did U reach him?"] You wished for a miracle that Leo's portal would pop up in front of you. It didn't even matter if everyone saw, you were desperate. If you danced this alone, you were sure to fail! Maybe you could ask one of the other students?

The song came to an end. The teacher was about to call your number. You clicked your phone on again and felt dread spread through you at yet again seeing no response. You felt yourself crumble on the inside in disappointment. Even if you danced it alone, you didn't even feel like dancing at this point!

You didn't move when the teacher called your number. You fiddled with your fingers around the phone that was still in your hands but the screen was no longer lit. You deserved this for letting your grades slip in the first place. But to be stood up by your own friends, who you had fought battles with? It hurt. You put your phone away and started walking up to the teacher to lie and tell her that you didn't prepare a dance, or maybe even tell her that you had stage fright or something? Either way you had to tell her that you couldn't do it.

"Number 17? Where are you?" The teacher asked on the microphone looking around the dim ballroom.

You sighed. You were mortified. "Right-"

"Here!" You were pushed forward from behind into the spotlights of the dancefloor and turned to find Donatello in snazzy clothes that covered his turtle appearance as much as possible. Behind him Mayhem's tail wagging caught your eye before you looked back at him.

"Donnie, what are you doing here?" You whispered to him looking towards the teacher as she announced that youll be performing the Salsa.

"Leo couldn't make it." Donnie looked at you apologetically. He stopped himself from saying more as the intro to the song started. He held out his hand, "Would you give me the honor of being your dance partner?"

You blushed. You didn't have time to think before the dance was supposed to start so you only nodded with a smile before placing your hand in his with your other hand in the air and a hip popped in your first dance pose.

The lyrics of the song started and Donnie matched your dancing flawlessly. He had watched you and Leo practice enough to memorize the choreography that you knew and were comfortable with. But now he couldn’t help himself to let the music get to him. This opportunity to dance with you was just too good to be true, so he let the music take over and added some improvised spins into the dance.

To his surprise, you matched him flawlessly, and even were smiling and laughing like you were enjoying yourself! He couldnt believe it! He was actually dancing with you! And you were enjoying it! You spun him a few times and you both parted to Salsa in place before coming back together for more spins.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and you could feel your face on fire! Not only did he come to your rescue yet again, but you both still got to dance together! You couldn't believe it! Better than that, he was really good! Your fears were for nothing! Granted the rhythm in which he moved his hips was definitely distracting, but it felt so natural, so fun to dance with him! You'll definitely have to apologize to him after!

You were nearing the end of the song when it donned on you that you needed to score at least two 10s and a 9 to win, and the realization that you and Donnie had gotten lost in your own world while dancing suddenly made you nervous. Did this count as Salsa sancing still? Sure it's an improvisation dance but you had decided on choreography as the safest bet to insure you did it correctly, what if this was all for naught? What if you don't win and it causes Donnie to spiral and makes the situation between you worse?

Your nerves eventually won out as Donnie spins you inwards towards him. You found yourself falling backwards as you over-rotated, and dread filled you once more.

"Leg up!" Donnie's hushed voice was in your ear as his inner elbows scooped up under your arms and caught you in a dip. Your leg was already going up a bit during your fall so you took advantage of Donnie supporting your weight to kick your leg up high, making sure to point your toes so that it looks like all of this was on purpose, before he bounced you back on your feet and you spun back around to him. You finished the last quick step as he pulled you close and you both came to an abrupt stop right on time with the music.

Everyone was clapping and cheering around you as you and Donnie panted while still holding onto one another. Your face heated and you felt dizzy, whether from the spinning or from how close Donnie was to you, you were not sure. He glanced down at your lips before quickly backing off to your side and lifting one of your hands in the air. He looked at you expectantly to lead, and you smiled as you both bowed at the judges and your teacher.

He didn't let go of your hand as the judges reached for the scoring paddles, and you gave his hand a tight squeeze to ease your nerves. Your heart was pounding from the combination of the dance, the scoring, and from the intimacy of being so close to Donnie for this long.

The judges lifted their paddles. 10, 10, and 9.5! You squealed before you and Donnie hugged each other. He didn't know if you had hugged him or vice-versa, but he wasn't complaining. Although once you both realized your position you quickly separated and scurried off the dancefloor for the last few contestants to go. But Donnie noted that you hadn't let go of his hand yet.

Once you were off to a dimly lit corner of the room at the back of the crowd you were hugging Donnie again. Mayhem hopping up onto a water cooler beside you both.

"Donnie! You! I really can't believe you did this for me! You really saved me tonight, I don't know how I can thank you!"

"I could think of a few ideas." Donnie's blush went unseen in the dim light, and you were letting him go now, his hand included, much to his disappointment.

"Listen Donnie, I really owe you an apology. I... was honestly embarrassed to ask you to be my dance partner. You're such a good dancer, and I.. didn't think I could keep up." It's a half truth. You didn't think you could keep up because you assumed you'd be tripping over yourself being that close to him. Which did technically happen but he had saved your butt, both figuratively and literally.

"No! Stop no!" He waved his arms in front of him. He was so embarassed now at hearing your reasoning, he really felt like a jerk now at how he had acted. "I am the one who is in the wrong. I felt hurt at not being chosen to be your dance partner, and took it a little.. too personally if I am being honest." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I.. overreacted, and behaved rather immaturely. Can you forgive me?"

To his pleasant surprise, you smiled at him and took his hands again. "For saving my butt tonight in all definitions of the phrase? Forgiven! Not only that, but if we win this because of you, I'll-"

"We will now be announcing the final scores!" The teacher's voice cut your conversation short. You just realized that you hadn't watched the scores for the final performances! What if someone got perfect 10s? You turned to watch nervously as your teacher introduced the judges and let them each give a little speech, postponing the results a little further.

Donnie had whispered to you a few times "You'll what? If we win, you'll what??" But you hadn't heard him. You squeezed his hand in yours absent-mindedly as your nerves got progressively more disoriented. Donnie's nerves rose at how you were still holding his hand. He was still elated at that he not only got to dance with you -the view of you laughing in joy as he spun you being a sight he would relive in his head (and in his tech as he records everything) for the rest of his life- but also due to the fact that you forgave him!

He heard who he assumed to be the teacher announce third place, who recieved 5 extra bonus points to their final grade, go to someone who had apparently performed a waltz.

Your hand squeezed his nervously as second place, the winner of 10 extra bonus points went to a student who had performed ballet. That was a fair choice, ballet was hard to learn in just a week after all and oh my gosh it was so hard for Donnie to focus when your hand fit so well in his! Was he sweating? He hoped he wasn't sweating!

"First place, winning a prize of 15 extra bonus points to the semester's final grade, goes to... number 17, who performed the Salsa!"

You hadn't heard passed your number being called before you jumped up and down.

"I won! Donnie! You-! Oh migosh, you-! Ahh come here!"

Your hands clamped over the sides of his face and pulled him towards your lips.

He didn't know how to react. He didn't have time to react, as the kiss was over in an instant, and you were already rushing back to the dancefloor to claim your certificate.

He stood there dumbfounded, feeling dizzy, smiling like a dum dum. That really just happened! You kissed him! In the same night that you danced with him! He couldn't believe it!

A portal opened up beside him with Leo popping in unnoticed by the rest of the students around. "Soooo, judging by your face and Y/N up there getting an award I assume the plan worked?"

"Plan?" Donnie snapped out of it as he rounded on his brother. "So this was apart of a plan of yours?"

Leo leaned on Donnie's shoulder, "Uh, yeah! And I'd say it was a success!"

Donnie felt himself boil at the thought of being played by Leo of all of his brothers, but as you bounced up to them he quickly thought that this is maybe the only time his brother having a hand in things turned out for the best.

"Leo! Where were you?! Actually, nevermind that! Thank you for not showing up! Donnie and I won!" You hooked your arms around Leo's neck in a hug, bouncing excitedly, and Donnie felt the boiling return.

"Yes, we did win, and you were saying something about if we won you'll...?" Donatello desperately tried to direct your attention back to his festering question. If nothing else, he wanted Leo gone and to have time with you to himself to ask you about that kiss! It was a matter of urgency!

Leo smirked, "So you won! Congrats! That calls for a celebration! Luckily everyone is back in the lair with some Run of The Mill Pizza ready for you!"

"Um, yeah ok, why don't you go ahead and tell everyone the good news while I take Y/N back after the event is over?" Donnie pushed Leo further away from you and out of your arm's reach.

"The event is over, Donnie." You laughed, "We can all head back together now!" In all honesty, you were too embarrassed at what you had just done.

You had moved without thinking earlier. You had been too engrossed in the moment and kissed Donnie without thinking about his feelings! He probably didnt like you that way! You were so thankful at seeing Leo there after recieving your reward so you didnt have to talk to Donnie about what you had just done. You weren't ready! You didn't want to tell him your feelings now! And apologizing would probably make it sound awful: "Hey, sorry I kissed you, that was an accident!" What if it hurt his pride, or he took it the wrong way? You didn't even know if he had liked it or not because you ran off before seeing his reaction. You wanted nothing more than to escape to the lair with everyone else and go back to how things were. You can tell him how you feel another time when you're ready!

"No, it isn't-" Donnie had tried to lie that the event was not over yet, but the students leaving the venue was hard to deny. Leon laughed as he opened a portal and pushed you inside it.

"See you and Mayhem there when you're ready to join us, Donnie." Leo winked at him to tease his brother before stepping through the portal after you.

Donnie didnt waste a second before opening his arms for Mayhem to teleport him to the lair after you both.

___________

You were excitedly telling everyone about the contest, exaggerating how Donnie showed up at the last minute before the music started. You stepped around the room trying to mimic some of the dance steps from earlier as you excitedly told them more about the dance and at how Donnie was a natural, and his improvised steps were amazing.

He had to admit, dancing with you? Amazing! You singing his praises to his siblings about dancing with you? Even better! He was so smug right now that Leo's one liner's weren't phasing him one bit. You were so animated while reliving the dance, it was like you were talking about your favorite TV show, and he was so in love with this animated and excited side of you. He could watch you all night.

"And then suddenly, I found myself living out my biggest fear! I had tripped and was falling to my doom!" You were so dramatic, it was adorable. He got up without anyone noticing.

"Oh no!" Raph gasped, his voice an octave higher than normal.

"Did you fall in the middle of the dance?" Mikey asked, fearfully.

You smirked, "No, Mikey, no I didn't!"

Mikey gasped.

"But how did you not fall?" Raph questioned. They were eating this up.

"I swooped in with the magic of rhythm!" Donnie slid into the scene behind you, and you took the cue to fall back as you had during your dance.

"'Leg up!' He had told me! He knew exactly how to save the day!" You posed with Donnie holding you from behind with your leg in the air like you had done before, but now you both held it as you rambled. Everyone applauded.

"And like a natural, you pulled it off perfectly!" Donnie added proudly, now bouncing you back up to your feet. You blushed at him for a moment before turning back around to finish the story to the others, leaving out the hand-holding and kiss, and proudly showing your certificate.

"Congratulations! We all know how hard you worked this week for this win! You deserve it!" April said to you from her spot on the couch. "I wish I had been there to cheer you on, but Leo made me promise to turn my phone off and let Donnie handle it."

"Dahh! April! Ix-nay on the an-play!" Leo whispered loudly across to April, his hands making an "x."

"I'm sorry, he did what?" You turned towards Leo even though your question was for April.

"Hahaha! I uh-" Leo chuckled nervously as Mikey chimed in.

"He had us turn off our phones too! And made sure we were busy far away from you in case you needed a back up partner!"

You started stalking towards Leonardo who was awkwardly getting up from the couch to sneak away.

"I knew the moment he wasn't responding to his phone that something was amiss. Getting me to agree to look after Mayhem made sense when you had texted the group chat that he was a no-show. It had only taken me a minute to get dressed and teleport to the venue, and to archive how good I looked in a quick few selfies which was why I was almost late." Donnie explained, keeping the last bit to himself.

"Leo." You started, "Surely you didn't stand me up, leaving me to have a full blown panic attack and almost quit the contest entirely, did you? You wouldn't do that to a friend, right?" Your smile could freeze hell.

"I just remembered that I have something to do, uh, anywhere but here!" Leon opened a portal, and as he stepped through you turned to the rest of the family in the lair.

"And surely all of you didn't go along with this plan knowingly? Right? You wouldn't ditch your friend in need?"

There was a pregnant pause before everyone besides you and Donnie were scrambling for the portal, with Raph shouting something about a mission they forgot about and to not wait up.

You sighed as the portal closed. "I'm happy with the outcome, but I have mixed feelings about being played like this."

Donnie walked up to you. "Yes, I concur that the event did end with the most preferable of outcomes." He said this simply, but with the awkward habit he had of scratching his head when embarrassed you flushed at the possibility that he might be bringing up the kiss. Surely not!

You both looked at each other with a blush. No way, he can't seriously mean... he has to be talking about dancing with you! That's all!

"Yeah! Dancing with you was the best thing to happen! Your help winning the contest was just icing on the cake!" You smiled at him. This was honest. Winning of course was the goal, but the best part of tonight was getting to dance with Donnie and apologizing to him.

"That reminds me. You said that if you won thanks to my help you'd do something. What, uh, might that be that you were about to say earlier?" Donnie finally got a chance to bring it up again!

You blushed again and suddenly couldn't look him in the eye. "Um, well." Could you tell him that the kiss was what you were going to do? Would he take that as a thank you? Would it seem too conceited to think he would accept it? Is it too conceited to hope he'd liked it? You can't run anymore. (Literally, April took Mayhem with her!) So the best thing you can do is ask.

"What, uh, what would you like?"

At this Donnie covered his blush by putting his hand over his face as if thinking hard. He knew what he wanted! But would it be awkward to ask for another kiss? You had kissed him earlier so maybe there was a chance that you wanted to kiss him before a rush of dopamine from winning had taken over? No, but he can't hypothesize with only one data point! This seemed like a now or never moment, yet there were too many uncertainties! Too many questions!

That's it! He knew what to ask for.

"I want you to answer me honestly." He said looking you seriously in the eyes. You swallowed. You knew what he was going to ask before he asked, and you had wished he wouldn't.

"Why did you kiss me earlier?" Donnie asked carefully. He didnt want to seem too eager, but also didnt want to sound uninterested. He was trying to play it cool. Suave. Nonchalant. Luckily all of the sweat was pouring down the back of his neck and shell so you couldn't see it.

You hesitated, then eventually sighed, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Well I, I mean the obvious answer is that I kissed you because I was excited about the win, and since the win had had been because of you..."

"But..?" Donnie pushed. Saying that its the 'obvious answer' didn't mean that it was the only answer.

"But," you continued, finally looking back to him shyly, "I kissed you because... I wanted to kiss you. I really wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to for a while now and, tonight was just an excuse to do it." You carefully watched him as he raised a hand to his head.

"I.. Um, I mean. Wow, I'm short-circuiting." Donnie had a strange half-smile on his face. He was surely going to wake up from this dream any minute now! Tonight was beyond belief! He got to dance with you, got kissed by you, and now you're telling him that you've wanted to kiss him for a while?! That means you have feelings for him, right? That has to mean you do, obviously! Those two factors correlate! He found himself giggling a little to himself at how happy he was.

You on the other hand were so embarrassed that he had managed to squeeze a confession out of you tonight after all! You didnt want to do this! You were certain that reaction of his was positive, but this was all too embarrassing and you wanted nothing more than to escape.

"Ok, I answered your question! Thanks again for your help tonight! If you need me, I'll-"

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere!" Donnie grabbed ahold of your hand as you tried to slip away. You squealed as he spun you into him, and found yourself unable to hold back giggles as he dipped you low.

"I've wanted to do this for so long." He smirked down at you before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Superfluous writing update

Calling this superfluous because it's about a story I've decided not to publish, but it's a writing update nevertheless and while I'm deeply dissatisfied with the result, I can still use it for my YOI canon/post-canon series.

The (first) draft of my Vitya backstory, which I've started writing during my Easter holiday, is finally finished. A part of me kept hoping that I might change my mind because it had some highlights like the origin of the bondage lilac fairy, but unless I invest an unholy amount of my time in the revision, it's not going to become a story that anyone would be interested in reading because for all I know, it doesn't match people's expectations about Viktor's past at all. In addition to that is this draft a big construction site.

Here's what imho makes the story unappealing and/or screams at me to be fixed:

Baby Vitya obsessing over a late famous Russian ballet dancer, who I thought would be an amazing idol for him and inspire him to become the kind of skater we see in YOI - no actual story here, just a loosely connected series of events.

Early teenage Vitya still obsessing over his ballet dancer and experimenting with feminine styles and being very stubborn about it despite everyone criticising him - still no actual story here, though, and his arguing with Yakov is becoming repetitive.

A very lenghty part about his first love that was mostly self-indulgent because I knew I had to end it eventually - actual story here for once, but let's be frank: who does even want to read 8 chapters about Viktor/OC?

A first Olympics that very likely is not at all like what Sayo and Mitsurou had in mind for the movie because my Vitya is still trying to get over his heartbreak. Note that I never aimed for that because this project is the result of smaller details I've invented for my series, but the result is far from what I had in mind and although that's part of a natural writing process, the result is extremely dissatisfying.

No drama revolving Viktor's decision to cut his hair because I believe that it was just him getting tired of his long hair and reinventing himself/crafting a new persona.

Poorly fleshed out programmes (there were just too many and I was too busy jotting the story down).

Appearences of real-life figure skaters who competed at that time because I was too lazy to invent OCs for anyone who is not Stéphane Lambiel.

Poorly researched Russian culture (I was too preoccupied with turning post-Soviet Russia into a country that is compatible with the world of YOI than looking into such details).

No teenage Viktor meets teenage Yuuri because during the time the story is set, they never skated in the same category due to their age gap: when Yuuri discovered Viktor, he was 12 and Viktor on the verge of entering seniors, and by the time the story ends, Yuuri has just reached the minimum age to enter seniors.

Honestly, I don't see the appeal in any of this, even if I fix the issues, shorten the lenghty parts and connect the scenes in the first half to an actual plot. It will take months until I will have time for such an endeavour and it will take even more months to turn this clusterfuck of a draft into something readworthy, and by then here will already be dozens, if not hundreds of Young Vitya stories written by people who will likely do a much better job at it than I could ever do.

Why is that even important to me? My stories are very dear to me and posting into the void just hurts. So far, I didn't have any luck with stories that are basically Viktor without Yuuri. This one was especially precious to me because it's a coming-of-age/coming-out story. Since the movie was cancelled, I also feel that expectations for this kind of story have skyrocketed because YOI fans crave to get their Ice Ado in one or the other way. Last but not least, this draft needs an unholy amount of work, and given all the reasons I've just listed, it just doesn't feel worth the effort at all.

So yeah, I wrote a story I've been burning to write since I had the idea back in January, and for the first time in 15 years of writing fanfiction (and 10 more years of writing), I've fucked it up. I now have 115k of backstory I can use in my ADTLTBA-series to flesh out Viktor, which is ridculously much for a backstory. On the pro-side, I now can rest assured that this story will never be abused to hate on animation studios and I'm just emerging from two very intense weeks of writing, which I haven't had since last NaNoWriMo.

[writtenonreceipts]

hey! I love your writing so much <3

I’m curious how you find / make time to write fanfic?

I’ve been on a long hiatus after realizing that I can’t rly find the time to write during college but now I’m wondering how to navigate it all after I graduate so… yeah. Any tips / advice?

Friend!! Hi!! How are you???

Oh my lands, its so good to see your username!!

<3<3<3 Thanks so much, you're too kind to me :(

Minor backstory because I can't stop talking: When I was in college, it never felt like I got much writing done. Really, the only original writing I did get done was when it related directly to a creative writing course I was taking. And by that point I'd already made the decision that I would be a published author. So, I made goals. I set aside time specifically during the day (and night) to write. I got to class early? Pulled up a document. I finished a reading or study session? Pulled up a document. It wasn't until I was enrolled in a few higher level/intense workshops that I was able to find a rhythm. I joined a critique group and for the last six (maybe seven?) years we've been meeting consistently sharing chapters of out work and giving feedback. I've learned so much and I still have a ways to go

Truth be told? I'm the worst. HA!

The biggest thing that I have learned to help me when I am trying to write, to meet a deadline, to see a change or improvement: goals. Give myself goals and a timeline. Especially out of college. You don't have as much pressure (some, but different types). And being out of college I've done my best to hold myself accountable for my writing and the progress I make on my stories. With my writing group, I have to have something ready, so that gets me writing.

I time myself and check word counts for a given period of time. Usually I do half hour to one hour writing sprints. I look at my project and think about what needs to happen in this scene and where I'm going with it as a general guide and then go for it! I look at my project as a whole and see where I want it to go. I try and get an idea of when I can reasonably have it finished.

It's so hard. I fail a lot of the time. But I keep trying. I surround myself with good people, good authors to follow (and many authors either have podcasts, tips and sites, books etc). I give myself grace. I try again.

I am nowhere near where I wanted to be. Am I disappointed? Yeah. Do I beat myself up? Constantly. But I try again. It takes practice to meet goals. It takes practice to love yourself. But you can do it!

You don't have to write thousands of words a day. YOU DO NOT. Wasn't it Terry Prachett who only wrote like 300 a day? If you find extra time to write extra? Go for it! But don't hold yourself to a standard that is not feasible for you and where you are. You do what works for you. Always.

I rambled tooooo much. SORRY. IDK what came over me. Did any of that help??

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

My Demon: Theories and Analysis for Eps 1-6

Hi Readers!

Let me start this post by saying what I originally wrote was just deleted after I hit the "save draft" button on Tumblr. I'm so pissed because I had spent hours working on this post!! For those who have followed my blog for a very long time, you know I usually provide a very in-depth analysis of dramas. 

Given what just happened and time constraints, I will keep this post very short. I may make mini posts next week to further elaborate on some points discussed here, but it just depends on if I have the time.

If you have any questions, please feel free to hit the "ask me anything" button and I will try my best to answer them promptly. I hope "My Demon" fandom won't be as toxic as the "Alchemy of Souls" fandom and misuse the "ask me anything" button to send me death threats or insults. If you don't like what I write, you can simply scroll along. The end. Also, don't plagiarize my shit. This was a huge issue during AOS and I really didn't appreciate it at all. If you want to use my ideas, give me credit for them.

Ok, let’s put on our thinking caps. Time to analyze and theorize!

Demons

In the context of this show, “demons” are individuals who used to be human but are now forced to fulfill human wishes in order to keep on living forever. The terms are simple: humans get their deepest desires fulfilled but will die in 10 years and go to hell. For demons, as long as they sign new contracts and collect souls, they won’t combust and be wiped from existence. It remains unknown how often demons must sign contracts/collect souls before they start to combust. Before demons were loan sharks, they were guardians of humans. 

We start this drama with Jeong Gu Won, who has lived happily for the last 200 yrs as a demon. Gu Won has no recollection of his human life. We don’t know if this aspect of Gu Won is something present in all demons or just him. Gu Won’s perfect little world is turned upside down after he saves Do Do Hee from Rash Dude aka Jeffrey Dahmer. Now, we don’t know why his tattoo was transferred to Do Hee but it’s implied the full moon and water had something to do with it. If you have read other posts of mine, you will know that when there’s a full moon it usually means a transformation and a new start. The whole falling into the water could be viewed as a sort of baptism, symbolizing the end of an old life and the beginning of a new life. I feel like before this show ends, Gu Won and Do Hee will end up in the water under the full moon again to symbolize Gu Won’s full transformation into a human. Like right now he’s like a quasi-demon haha. His transformation into a full human is currently ongoing. I think that as he starts to develop more human emotions/remember his human memories, his powers as a demon will begin to decline. 

Gu Won’s Past Life…A Story of Crime and Punishment

One thing I’ve learned from analyzing many dramas over the years is when a writer shows us a book or mentions a movie, we should look into them if we want a glimpse into what will happen in a drama. Now in Ep 1, you see #2 Wild Dog reading, “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky which was hilarious because he didn’t strike me as the type to read such a dense piece of literature. Seeing this book took me back to my high school days when we had to read and analyze this book. For those who don’t know, Russian works tend to be very long and are usually about suffering haha.

For the sake of time, I’ll you a very brief overview of what happened in “Crime and Punishment”. The story begins with a law student, Rodion Raskolnikov, who quits school because he can’t afford it anymore. The guy then has a mental breakdown of sorts and decides to kill the elderly owner of the pawnshop and her half-sister. He justifies his actions by rationalizing that by killing the pawnshop owner, he could take the valuables within her pawn shop and use them to fund his education which would eventually earn him a well-paying job. In turn, he would use the money earned to benefit the greater good. 

Raskolnikov saw himself as an Ubermensch (if you don’t know that means, I had briefly talked about it in my DAYS posts). He believed that since he was above everyone else, he was allowed to cross all societal, ethical, and moral lines because his success would help the greatest amount of people. The rest of the novel is about Raskolnikov’s internal struggles with what he did. He goes back and forth between confessing or not confessing to the murders. Eventually, the love interest in the story, Sonia, a devout Christian and source of morality for Raskolnikov, convinces him to turn himself in and confess. Raskolnikov ends up only having to serve a total of 8 years in a labor camp for the murders. While there, he finally realizes the errors of his ways and feels guilt for his past actions. He then was like “Sonia’s love saved me and I feel bad for making her suffer so when I get out, I’m going to repay her with infinite love for all she has done for me”. And bam! That’s where the story ends…with the start of his journey toward redemption haha. 

Gu Won is Raskolnikov in the sense that he thinks he’s better than everyone else and can therefore cross any line he so chooses. Based on a flashback in Ep 6, it seemed Gu Won had this kind of mindset even before he became a demon. So, what crime did Gu Won commit that landed him in Hell in the first place? I wouldn’t label it so much as an actual crime like murder but Gu Won probably got Do Hee’s past self killed. The guilt he felt after her death is probably what led to him become essentially trapped in a mental Hell, much like Madam Ju. Eventually, this guilt prevented him from entering heaven after he died. God/Lady probably took pity on him and offered him salvation in the form of becoming a demon; alternatively, it could be that God/Lady offered him a "sweet" contract where he could work as a demon in exchange for a second chance and a happier life with Do Hee in the future. Regardless of whatever the case may be, the important thing is that Gu Won needs to remember what happened in his past so he can seek forgiveness from Do Hee in the present and start his path toward redemption much like Raskolnikov. The truth sets you free haha. Gu Won is taking a step in the right direction though by protecting Do Hee. He could be like Raskolnikov and choose to give Do Hee infinite love for the rest of his life to make up for the horrible things he did to her in the past haha. Oh, one more thing for this section, the tattoo being on Do Hee’s wrist could symbolize that she was the reason why he became a demon in the first place. 

Murders of Do Hee’s Parents and Madam Ju/Who Is Abraxas

In my original post, this section was long, but as I previously mentioned, the stuff I wrote was deleted. I’m just going to give you the overall gist of it. I still think the person who killed Madam Ju was Ju Seok Hun and that the person who killed Do Hee’s parents was Madam Ju’s little brother/Seok Hun’s father. I don’t think Madam Ju directly killed Do Hee’s parents, but she felt guilty for their deaths because she covered up the incident to protect her little brother. After which, she cut him off and exiled him to Peru to live a hippie life haha. This is completely speculative though. Like we have two choices for who murdered Do Hee’s parents and Madam Ju. Choice #1 is Noh Suk Min and Noh Do Gyeong and Choice #2 Seok Hun’s father and Seok Hun. One argument I made for choice #2 is that if Suk Min and Do Gyeong were the real killers, wouldn’t the actor who played Do Gyeong be a main lead instead of a supporting character? Another argument was that Seok Hun has too many conflicting qualities about him. For example, he is a hippie who works in the corporate world and despite portraying a goody-two-shoes image, he suggests Do Hee should engage in some ethically questionable business practices like letting Mirae Investments buy shares of Mirae F&B to offset the losses. 

It’s also important to remember what Do Hee said about “sweet” things and how they’re always fake (except for Gu Won haha). Seok Hun is faker than acrylic nails. He puts on an act that he cares about her well-being when in reality, he hopes she dies. He must continue with this nice guy act because he doesn’t want her death to lead back to him. Just think about some things for a moment, if Do Hee died, who would the police suspect killed her? Would it be the people who openly voiced their disdain for her or the person whom she had a loving relationship with? It would be the former. The scene with Do Gyeong at the lockers is essentially Seok Hun setting him up to take the fall for Do Hee’s murder. At the end of the day, human greed is what drove Seok Hun to do what he did. Who knows, maybe his greed stems from being subjected to a frugal lifestyle while growing up. 

Crosses, Numerology, and Tarot

Amen, we are nearing the end. Ok, let’s keep going at record speed. So, crosses and Catholicism/Christianity are heavily present in this show. The same goes for numbers and tarot. They’re all connected. Some religious crosses can look like an “X” which looks like the Roman numeral 10. The number 10 is everywhere in this show. For example, the little girl was celebrating her 10th birthday and the Wheel of Fortune is the 10th tarot card in the Rider Waite Tarot Deck. Connecting numerology with tarot, the wheel of fortune represents the end of one journey and the beginning of another…1 + 0 = 1, where 1 symbolizes completion.

The clock in the promotional poster has a hand pointing at 10, which is different than the clocks seen at Gu Won’s place that only go from 0-9. While we are on the subject of 9, “Gu” means nine. Every time Gu Won started a new life, he named himself the next number following his current one. For example, he was Il (1) Won, then I (2) Won, and so forth. Now in his 9th life, he is called Gu Won. Get it? Ok, cool. What comes after 9? 10. After Gu Won completes his transformation into a human, he will be called Sip (10) Won haha. Additionally, did anyone notice the number 91 on the cake Do Hee baked for him? What’s 9+1? 10. 

Pay attention to the numbers in this show people! Always ask yourself what each number means and what it's connected to haha. When God/the Lady said, "I’m betting on all the odd numbers", many were like what does that mean? She’s referring to the numbers on tarot cards (Rider Waite Deck), which represent Gu Won and Do Hee. For example, which cards represent them? For starters, the 15th card aka the devil. 1+5=6 which is the lovers card. Another odd-numbered tarot card that is representative of Do Hee and Gu Won is the 9th card which is “The Hermit” because let’s be real here, they both were hermits before they met each other. The last major arcana tarot card in the deck is #21…THE WORLD aka GUARANTEED SUCCESS. So this is what God/Lady meant when she said she’s betting on all the odd numbers. It’s the writer’s way of telling us we are going to get a happy ending after all the chaos that will occur. 

One more intriguing number is 17. If you sniff around, you’ll notice that 17 is the number of years that have passed since Do Hee’s parents died. 17 is also the number of the coin locker where Jeffrey and Seok Hun exchange stuff. Hilariously, Gu Won’s passcode to his safe is “666”, which is the number of the beast/devil haha. In the newspaper clipping about the Sunwol Foundation, it said the theater was completed on June 7, 1977 and Gu Won’s name during that time was Chil (7) Won haha. The number 7 is seen as lucky in Korean and many Western cultures. 

MISC

The cross necklace Gu Won wears probably belonged to Do Hee’s past self or was given to Gu Won by Do Hee…..OH I just made another connection…..In “Crime and Punishment”, Sonia gave Raskolnikov a cross necklace. Also, in Crime and Punishment, Sonia was a prostitute and Do Hee was essentially one during the Joseon dynasty…. Kisaeng and prostitutes are basically the same thing haha. It’s also interesting that both Gu Won and Do Hee wear two necklaces, one silver and one gold. I wonder if there’s any meaning behind that.

In the newspaper clipping about Sunwol Foundation, the term 'Sun/Seon' is written in hanja and translates to 'to return/come back.' This element was part of Gu Won's original name, Yi Sun/Seon. Additionally, 'wol' means moon. Therefore, I interpreted 'Sunwol' to mean 'Sun and Moon' or 'Moon That Returns.' In a broader sense, Sunwol can be likened to the Taj Mahal—a building or monument constructed in memory of a beloved. One could also view Sunwol as a place that narrates the love story of the Sun (Gu Won) and the Moon (Do Hee) or as a place built with the hope that Gu Won’s beloved moon would return one day.

Ok, folks, that concludes this very brief TA post. WOOHOO! Sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes or typos, and if this post seemed a bit disorganized. I really have to get to bed and didn't have time to edit this haha. See you all next week maybe!

[theglitchywriterboi]

The Life And Times Of A Power Dealer

Issue Zero

AUTHORS NOTE: This is a really rough draft I wrote at like 7AM on no sleep & in a format I generally don't write in [first person kinda talking to the audience]. So apologies for any mistakes

I'm not a drug dealer per se… Yes, I do sell things that, to some, may be considered drugs due to the fact they do alter your physical &/or mental capabilities. And yes, the selling of these items may not technically be legal but… Okay, maybe I am a drug dealer.

But what I sell isn't traditional drugs. What I sell gives people… Abilities. Whatever power you want, I probably have on deck. & if I don't, for the right price, I can in a few days.

Superspeed? Obviously. Shape-shifting? You might as well ask if the supermarket has bottled water. Flying? Of course!

See, a few years ago - nine to be exact, about 6% of the population gained Superpowers. Some got only one, but were very powerful - like being so strong they’re able to fold a bus as if it were a piece of paper. Others got several, but were weak - like being able to blow bubbles & being able to float two inches off the floor. Not many people could do it sure [and given how rare powers were in general, may make people - especially kids, stunned], but not really useful, or flashy.

Of course there were others that varied. Some got one weak power - one guy I know can teleport. One inch at a time.

And before you think it’d somehow still be faster than walking, its not. Powers use energy - if you train enough its not super exerting, but when you teleport less than the average step, while simultaneously using up more energy than a step, it’s kinda pointless to train.

Then theres people with multiple strong powers. Super strength & being able to breathe fire. Or being able to control water & the ability to fly as high as you want.

Naturally, some non-powered individuals [and some with subpar powers] are upset they got the short end of the stick.

I can’t blame them to be fair.

So, thats where I come in.

I lucked out, having a few fairly overpowered abilities. The main two relevant for you to know right now though, are: Hyper intelligence, and being able to clone myself.

The government, both the new superpower branch & the normal branch, don’t like people having powers, so they try to keep it suppressed. Ironically, by hiring those with powers [because how can someone with no powers go up against someone who can turn your body inside out?

I make ability supplements. Any way you want them. Some want a patch, others want pills, the weird few want it to be powered - I really hope they’re making a “Super power drink” not snorting it, but once the sales done, it’s none of my business.

Cute story, one guy came in & he wanted a very specific order. Format was glitter, and you cant absorb the power through latex gloves, & once the glitter touches the ground [carpet or grass], it no longer has the power in it. He wanted two powers in it: The ability to fly about six feet off the ground & invincibility. Flying to last two hours & the invincibility to last two & a half hours. He got five doses to take home.

A few days later he comes back absolutely beaming. Turns out his kids [two daughters & a son] fell in love with the Peter Pan movie, so he & his husband dressed in their best Peter Pan outfits, and sprinkled the glitter - or Pixie dust as far as the kids know, on top of all their heads.

He showed me a video - while I wouldn’t recommend videoing yourself using my products [seeing as its a crime & you never know when a bootlicking superpowered motherfucker may somehow access your phone & see your video] it was very adorable. When he showed me he gave a big tip, which most usually don’t, especially after the fact.

Unfortunately, not all customers have such sweet intentions. But once again, after the sale is finalized, what they do is none of my business. Though since I’m still a small timer, there haven’t been any big crimes committed by the people who solicit my services. As far as I know at least.

Being able to clone yourself comes in all forms. Some have what I like to call “Instant spawn”. Basically, versions of themselves spawn near The Origin [the non-clone version] - surrounding a person they're going to attack, different parts of the room, whatever. Traditionally somewhere in proximity to The Origin, though it is incredibly rare for someone to make a clone in lets say Moscow while they're in Seattle. Possible, but again, rare.

Others have my favorite, “The walk out”. Basically the clones seemingly [or literally maybe] walk out of the The Origin. Generally those with that kind stand still while their clones walk out of The Origin but others like to be flashy, making their clones walk out as they walk/run.

The kind I have is… Okay. I call it the meditation method. I close my eyes, generally I sit crisscross or lay down, then my clones walk out of me. Similar to the previous method I suppose, but I have to have my eyes closed & if The Origin [myself in this case] is disturbed - whether I open my eyes voluntarily or I’m attacked, my clones snap out of existence.

I & most people who can clone themselves, retain all the information & memories that our clone went through.

Anyway, I should get onto telling the happenings of my life instead of rambling about powers [I will do more rambling, apologies in advance, but also… You read this & made an active choice to keep reading…].

It all started with an angry father. Different father than the cute story guy [and not his husband either].

[pearlypairings]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thank you @justhere4thevibez for tagging! I woke up so early bc I'm still not adjusted well to the time difference on my vacation so I figure I could work on this to kill some time💕

1. List of works published this year (in no particular order):

Meet Me At Our Spot

Coffee and Contemplation *

Dear Donna,

painting (a masterpiece)

not a sound, but the wind

In the Shade of Aurelias *

all good dates begin at the cemetery

so much (for) stardust

there is a light that never goes out *

* = WIP

(I have a few more anon works too which were fun to try some new things with😄)

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

OH this is tough… I think I have to choose two. I'm so proud of not a sound, but the wind for many reasons. I tried a lot of new writing techniques within that story, which honestly the first images came to me at 2am fever dream of Chrissy with short hair and distraught pushing her way through the woods in a blizzard. I didn't know where the story was going but once I got started I had so much fun. And right now I'm also very proud of there is a light! It's my rarepair fic that I've fallen in love with for chrissy x jonathan and it's been a true delight to meet other people in the fandom from that fic alone!

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

Hmm I think painting (a masterpiece) is one that I would probably revisit to edit and change if given the option. I don't think it's terrible by any means, but it was really a self indulgent fic for me inspired by the song of the same name. I think I published it very quickly without letting it simmer for edits, so I would change some of the beats for pacing.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From not a sound, but the wind

“Do you comfort all your crying customers?” She let her fingers graze his palm as she accepted his makeshift tissue with a sad smile.

“Only the ones I like.”

Chrissy dabbed her eyes, praying that none of the mascara smeared beyond recognition. “You’re not gonna sell me anything, are you?”

“Who said that? If there’s any time you need pot, it’s now!”

A small laugh shook her fragile frame, warmth spreading across her chest from within. She folded the bandana into a small square and tucked it into her pocket with a sheepish grin. The last of her tears iced over the corners of her eyes.

“Coming from my dealer, that sounds a little like a sales pitch.”

Eddie fell back, miming an arrow through his heart and rigorously pulling the invisible weapon out from his chest. “You wound me. How about half off and twice as much?”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

ALL of my comments on there is a light are my favorites. People really enjoying my take on jonathan (a character that even I slept on and didn't really connect with until I saw things from his pov) and being really supportive of my WIP that's ending soon! It's really been such a joy to read all the lines each reader loved and the plot twists they had guessed right or wrong. It's been the best!

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

2023 was a……year. Yeah, I think the fall was very hard because of some family hospitalizations that were very scary and exhausting. So I didn't have the energy nor the will for quite a bit after that to write much. I'm hoping 2024 is all for good health and better headspace.

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

At the risk of sounding really cheesy, I really loved the scene in not a sound when Chrissy and Eddie are about to kiss. The two chapters with back to back pov were so much fun to write bc we get little glimpses into both perspectives of the situation and how wrong they interpret the other person's reactions. It's so cute and I didn't intend to write an eddie pov chapter when I started that fic, it just happened (and we got more Wayne which is always a plus).

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

I have a long way to go with this, but I think I'm finally shedding parts of my past where for work I had to write scientifically and directly. It's so hard for me to break that frame of mind, so I'm constantly going back in edits to add in more details and worldbuilding and mood setting beyond action and dialogue. In 2024, one of my goals is to do enough exercises where that flows more naturally in the drafting process.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

LOL oops! I sort of just answered that question, but another goal of mine is to continue to finish my beloved WIP Aurelias AND write a ton more for rarepairs to stretch my imagination.

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

Losty, @1lostsoul0fishbowl you are all of the above. So glad we found each other on this site and via Dear Donna,. It's been lovely getting to know you and I appreciate all the times you've read through drafts and ideas and insanity on my part. You da bomb diggitty 💣

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

Definitely…. The break up in there is a light is loosely based on a real break up between me and my first high school boyfriend. The AUDACITY. But definitely many, many other little bits of dialogue or scene set ups are from moments in my life :) the life of a writer.

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

Write it down. WHEREVER you are (unless driving lol). Whatever the idea is, the dialogue you thought of, the plot puzzle piece. Just write it down somewhere on your phone, in a notebook etc. Because you will forget it and it will frustrate you lol.

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

2024 is when I'll be finishing Aurelias! Slow and steady because it's my baby and very setting/period heavy. And there's a few tricks up my sleeves for future fun projects that I'll be writing mostly for me (and maybe losty lol). AND I CAN'T WAIT! Rarepairs galore ✨

What a fabulous evaluation and deep look at the past year! Can't wait to see what 2024 brings 💞 happy new year!

[jonismitchell]

oooh ms arden i (and im sure many others) would love a quick run-down on your writings! like the names and what they're about

hi good morning this is so cute! at any given time i have a dozen docs hanging around my google drive in various states of completeness so i'll just give you descrptions of my more recent WIPs and a quick description of my short story folder :') cuba novel -> i never actually titled this, so it's just ten thousand words i wrote the last time i was in cuba (2022), but nevertheless it's about a couple of young adults in london (you are going to sense a theme) who are all a little bit in love with each other and all a little worse for it. more specifically it's about a guy who reconnects with his estranged older brother, a football player going out with a woman who's actually in love with her best friend.

the londoners -> another coming of age story about two students who fall in love, then spend the rest of their lives falling apart and back to each other. interesting in the way that it plays with art: the male main character is a painter and the female main character is a writer, so the part i really wanted to write was about the way they kept trying to bend back to each other during their divorce.

malcolm & clara -> i have a ridiculous amount actually written for this and a very detailed scene by scene outline somewhere, i just never wrote all of it! anyway it's about an actor who falls in love with the ghostwriter on the film that's gonna make him big, a halfway house of women who love each other very much, and spans thirty years or so. (fun fact: malcolm and clara's son is the romantic lead in another unfinished arden work.)

sabrina / the berliners -> the current thing occupying my head! originally about a woman who loses her mind when her best friend/quasi-boyfriend leaves her, it's now about the summer after that, when she begins to fall in love again and gets sucked into a number of intrigues i still need to plan out. any resemblance to real persons living or dead is entirely coincidental blah blah blah

now this post is already long but i'm hoping someone is interested, and unlike my half-finished novels the short stories in this folder are actually done...

-> the first one is actually slated for publication in a zine and it's about a woman who murders her husband! i shan't share more because i'm too excited to hold the actual thing in my hands. -> the ghost of lismore lane: an author experiencing writer's block moves to a haunted house and becomes best friends with the ghost that haunts it. (not a horror story) -> lesbian multiverse: this needs an actual title, but it's about a woman who adventures through different timelines only to realize that being gay is an intrinsic part of who she is<3 -> bonus: the curious case of alice crawford. about a time cop and the criminal tearing apart the fabric of spacetime, which is almost done, and which i may try to write the final scenes for today especially if someone comes and tells me to haha

[jamiesfootball]

Tagged by @jamietarttsnorthernattitude and @asteria-argo

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

191,977

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ted Lasso is the main one right now

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015))

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) (Ted Lasso (TV))

The Garrison Reserve (The Musketeers (2014))

The Dick String Incident (Ted Lasso (TV))

somebody's hands who felt like mine (Ted Lasso (TV))

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, though I am woefully behind

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's a toss up between right next to the heart of me and somebody's hands who felt like mine. I think the first one is technically the sharper angst, but it at least has a sequel in the works to make things a little better. The second one is a softer whump, but open-ended and with no follow up planned.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In terms of fics that have actually ended, A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar wins by a mile

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet???

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Whatever kind. If I am feeling inspired by a thought, I'm gonna write it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written AUs but no straight-up crossovers yet, though I've lazily batted a few around in a sort of 'what if x met y' sort of way

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar and The Garrison Reserve were both co-written

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Right now it's Jamie/Whump

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

It's not that I won't finish The Garrison Reserve (literally the last chapter is half written), but finishing it is going to mean a rewatch because I have straight up forgotten half the side characters' names

16. What are your writing strengths?

Maybe descriptions? Also my willingness to try to tell a joke

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

This is one I try very very hard to edit out, but I am literally the worst at writing my thoughts down out-of-order or forgetting to finish a thought entirely. Oh, and dialogue. It either comes naturally or I am forging that garbage with a hammer.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think there is a time for using another language in-text and a time when simply implying the other language or leaning on the perspective of a character who doesn't speak the other language is the correct decision.

That said I am currently writing a story about Dani and Jamie which involves some Spanish dialogue, but I feel fairly good about it because 1) when in doubt, I can (and do) just quote my mom, 2) if it sounds too simplified / non-colloquial I can always make the excuse that Dani, like my mom, doesn't want to confuse Jamie while he's learning, 3) any mistake I make could easily be a mistake that Jamie would make anyways. Wins all around!

Somewhat related, there was an absolutely fantastic Sherlock (BBC) fic back in the day (which was sadly removed from AO3) told from John's point of view where Sherlock decided he would go about his day in Italian. It included Italian dialogue that you could hover over for the translation, but the thrust of the fic was John playing along with his best guess of what was being said. The result was a fic that concurrently told two entwined stories by emphasizing two different povs by giving the audience the choice to ignore one in favor of experiences the other one first with no subtitles. It was very cool.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

a two-page handwritten DBZ fanfic when I was 11.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)

tagging: @sighonaraa and @altschmerzes because I've not seen either of you yet

[skylermadness]

Full Interlink (Guernica Vandham TF/MC/AP)

(Original Date of Upload: February 4, 2023)

Guess I'm uploading my stuff to Tumblr now! I've been writing on DeviantArt and FurAffinity for a good two and a half years now, and felt like maybe testing the waters to see how things will do on Tumblr.

Original Description:

I have written two TFs of the Vandham variety and both of them are Mature. I wonder what this means for me. Anyway, this was an idea I've actually had swirling around my head for a few months now. I wanted to try something based on one of the early game cutscenes, and I kind of went with something that might be considered possession in the least? I don't know. Anyway, this was a really fun story to write! I was trying to go more of an angle of self-exploration and pleasuring during the transformation, something I didn't really explore with many TFs before (except maybe the Thor one from last year). I'm quite proud of how it turned out though, might be among my favorite works! ...I say that with everything I upload, damn. I also wrote this story as a soft sequel to my earlier Xenoblade 3 story "Gray Matter". It's not really vital you read that one first, I just thought it'd be a nice connection to end things on.

   Smoke was quickly consuming the valley's battlefield with each passing second, the only sound heard being that of a grueling fight. Six people fighting against a gigantic, monstrous creature of an unknown Origin.

   Farther away from the fight there's the sound of metal clanging, and energy pulsating shortly after. An egg-shaped object sits on the ground, splitting open evenly as a piston within it arises and blue motes of light escape its internals. The shell of the object glows a bright green. An eighth person is on this battlefield as well: a burly, bearded man who was currently mortally wounded. Still, he was attempting to do something despite his life-threatening injury.

   As the object appears to power up, this man lets out a laugh of triumph. "That's what I'm talking about… looks like it wasn't all for nothing!"

   And for a second, the TV screen flickers.

   In truth, all of what had just occurred was merely a part of a cutscene. One that belonged to the game Xenoblade Chronicles 3.

   Sitting on the living room couch, a young man named Mike eagerly watches the scene unfold. He had originally spent a while procrastinating on even beginning to play this game, but once he started he found himself hooked. The characters interested him, and what little plot he's been given at this point in the story had interested him. 

   And considering Mike's fixated gaze towards the TV screen. He was captivated.

   The fight still continues in front of him. The mysterious giant manages to knock one of the fighters off her feet. But before he gets a chance to land a finishing blow, someone else comes and uses their sword to divert the giant's attack. The swordfighter isn't able to get both he and the girl beside him away from the giant fast enough, and things already are quickly beginning to look dire.

   But then a voice yells out in the distance; deep, aged, accented. "It's not over yet!!"

   Mike stares at the face of the man. Guernica Vandham. Admittedly he looked like an altered version of the Vandham from the second Xenoblade game, but that didn't make him any less interesting. Considering Mike's ardor towards the original, the copy was just about as good in his eyes.

   The older face, the thick beard, the Australian accent. Heck, the jumpsuit looked perfect on the guy! It was enough to make him unconsciously think about just being the guy. Having his face, his hair, his muscles, his voice…

   In almost an instant, Guernica pushes down the piston and a massive pulse of energy spills from the object. Spirits of the fighters appear to be ejected from their own bodies.

   This includes the spirit of Guernica Vandham himself.

   Time seems to slow, and…

   Mike barely gets a chance to react as the burly man's spirit almost seems to get expelled from the screen of his TV and descend onto his own body. His physical form and Guernica's spectral form seem to overlap each other for just a millisecond, then the hulking apparition disappears as if it were never there to begin with.

   At the same time his television seems to flicker, the power of it short circuiting as his Switch emits a worrying noise of electric crackling. Something builds up, then snaps as the TV forces itself off. The console beside it does the exact same thing as well.

   The sensation that pushes everything out of the weird slow feeling state of time was the electrical crepitation of the very controller in his hand, the object seemingly mimicking the actions of all the other electronics in the room. A massive shock entered Mike's hands and arms, the young man hissing in pain as he flung the object onto the table in front of him.

   "What the hell was that-" Mike said, his eyes wide as he took in the sudden change of state in his surroundings. His limbs tingle from the sudden shock of electricity, and his palms seemed a little red, likely due to the heat. 

   His gaze wandered around. Towards the controller, which now appeared fine. Then to the television, whose screen was black and pictureless with no sound coming from its stereos. He then took a glance at the Switch, seemingly inactive as well. But there seems to be something faint, and Mike squints to see what it was.

   "Is that… smoke?"

   He couldn't fully tell, but a barely noticeable stream of smoke seemed to be escaping the docked console's vent. "Aw crap, did it overheat??"

   He stood up from the couch and took a step forward, but was suddenly stopped when he felt a sudden spasm course across his entire body. "Agh, what…?"

   The tingling in his hands seemed to increase dramatically, feeling a new, strange sensation. It felt as if he submerged his hand in pure TV static. He looked downwards at his hands to check for any changes, and… he indeed found some.

   "Wha…"

   Mike's mind blanked, the young man dumbfounded at what he was witnessing. Both of his hands appeared to be growing. Both palms stretched, size increasing with each passing second. They swelled with a thick meatiness entering them. His fingers lengthened to fit the new proportions of his hands, and a significant thickness entered them as well while the tips of each finger blunted. 

   The discomforting tingling in his hands slowly subsided, the cause being another change that seemed to settle in his hands. As his palms enlarged, the skin upon them grew harder and dense with thick calluses etching upon them. The skin on the back of his hands began to weather, aging rapidly as it gained an almost leathery texture to it. 

   Mike flipped his hands over a few times in a panic, eyes wide at the sight of them. “What’s happening??”

   This strange occurrence then started to move upwards. The rapid aging of his skin cascaded upwards like some kind of reverse waterfall. Alongside that came a substantial amount of bulk in the affected limbs. Bulk that was a result of an increase in muscle mass. It started in his lower arms, the areas heating up as an almost instantaneous workout was forced upon them, their musculature increasing greatly in mere seconds. All the while, the bones in his arms extended, stretching to a larger length than they once were.

   Things rapidly reached his forearms next, his muscles growing in that area as well. Biceps began to bulge, triceps magnifying alongside them. The sleeves of his shirt strained against this growth, easily becoming sizes smaller in comparison to his thickening forearms. This was quickly exacerbated once his delts started to gain mass as well, practically ballooning in size. From there the changes jumped to his torso, etching into his shoulders and beginning to broaden them.

   The sound of the fabric of his sleeves tearing pierced the air of the room, Mike groaning while sweat started to bead from his forehead. The odd tingling had remained as a searing heat that reverberated around his form, and now that it reached his torso it was steadily plunging both downwards and rising upwards. 

   He blinked a few times, placing a massive hand at the side of his head. “Hot…” was the first word he could muster, the burgeoning heat messing with his train of thought and leaving his mind hazy.

   “Ugh, something’s wrong…”

   Although, something about that very statement felt incorrect. His earlier panic was dying down rapidly, easily being replaced with a dazed disposition. Confusion was setting in; that of why this is happening, what is even happening. There was also a state of curiosity as well. 

   His eyes slowly edged to a side, staring at a muscular arm and thick hand. “So… old and…” his cheeks flushed, “big…”

   At the sound of that very simple word, something else began to well up inside him. Heat surged within the man’s core, his bodily frame now starting to widen and slowly pull at the buttons of his shirt as his size grew in width. The strain on his shirt's split persisted, his chest swelling as his pectorals expanded. It wasn't long until their growth exceeded his shirt's limit; a button breaking an eyelet while another one just simply popped off. His pecs continued growing, thickening into two meaty slabs.

   It was at this point that Mike's attention had drawn downwards, his mind in a hazy stupor. The site of his newly massive pecs felt satisfying to him. There was also something enjoyable about feeling his shirt continue to rip itself open, more and more buttons breaking against his wide form and thickening muscles. His stomach churned at the feeling of his abdominal muscles beginning to bubble from his skin. Buttons strained, a few simply breaking off, as a six-pack sequentially rippled from the top of his abdomen down. 

   Mike smiled goofily at the sight, lifting a hand and dipping a finger into the cleavage of his pectorals. "U-urgh… this feels… nice…"

   His breathing shuddered. Did his voice crack? It sounded… deeper. And like an accent was beginning to creep in. But those thoughts quickly dashed out his mind as he moved a finger downwards, slowly trailing the midline of his new abdominal muscles.

   "Y-yeah… warm 'nd… big…" he said, voice quiet but getting noticeably deeper with each word.

   His back straightened, pressure wracking the vertebrae of his spinal cord. The floor was beginning to move further away, the hem of his shirt riding upwards. A sign that his height was increasing.

   The sensuality of the experience seemed to increase substantially as he felt hairs prickling from his skin. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden sight of dark hairs emerging from his skin. At first it was just a mild dusting trailing across his chest and the middle of his abs, but it quickly grew beyond that. The fuzz lining his midline thickened into a nice treasure trail, that blossoming of thick hairs seeming to move upwards until it reached his pecs. From there it formed a forest of fur, a sight that greatly contrasted the hairlessness of his arms. Even more peculiar, all this hair had a dusty gray color to it.

   He didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that thought though, his hand moving back to his pecs and rubbing them a little. Feeling the bush of fur beneath his calloused skin, watching the hairs break through from between his fingers. His cheeks flushed again, the man feeling so… warm…

   He could feel this intense warmth running downwards in more ways than one. The button of his jeans struggled against his widening waist, that region being the next to expand. 

   It started off simply at first. His thighs started bulging, mimicking the changes in the rest of his body as the muscles within them expanded. Ridges formed within the denim of his jeans quickly as they outlined the increasing size of his hamstrings and his quads. But things quickly got out of his, Mike beginning to feel his rear swell in size. The seat of his pants filled, his glutes growing. His ass was getting round, firm, and thick. So much so that it was evident through the back of his pants.

   Of course, the front wasn't left unscathed. He could practically feel the blood shooting downwards, the man blushing in a mix of embarrassment and euphoria. His groin stirred with activity, the zipper of his jeans breaking from his new girth. A bulge had formed, Mike letting out a deep, husky groan at the feeling. He couldn't help but move his hand down to the area and squeeze it for just a moment of pleasure.

   Meanwhile, more of his changes transitioned past his knees. His bones pressurized as they bulked beneath his new weight. They lengthened as well, the legs of his jeans moving upwards as his height increased some more. The denim also began to split at the sides, muscles continuing to bulge in size. The crus of his legs practically felt like they set ablaze as his calves swelled. His legs were effectively twice the size of what they used to be, although the same could be said for the rest of his body.

   The only piece of his clothing that wasn't torn up was his shoes, but judging by the increasing discomfort in that area it was easy to tell that wouldn't last long. With his footwear, his feet were steadily expanding. Stretching out to get larger, getting meatier as well. His toes grew as well, each one getting thicker. As the size increased, the toecap of his shoes started bulging, his toes pushing up against the leather. The seams holding his shoes together were quickly beginning to undo itself, the strings fraying and splitting apart over the bridge. His heel dug into the back, ankles into the sides. Then, in mere seconds, his shoes split open to reveal his massive feet, which continued to grow larger until they were in proportion with the rest of his body.

   Mike was practically growling now, slowly trying to get over his sudden erotic euphoria. "Everythin's so sparkin'... hot, urgh…" 

   He swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat swelling as his neck got larger. Thicker, swelling out into a trunk. His voice continued to deepen, his vocal cords altering it as they changed within his neck. 

   "Somethin' ain't right…" he spoke. His vocal mannerisms were shifting. His very accent was changing, becoming more and more Australian sounding.

   He felt so confused. So many emotions and feelings were firing in his brain at once, his senses being overridden with other feelings every second. Confusion, euphoria, warmth, haziness, erotic bliss, pleasurable desires, it was so much.

   "Grrgh, ain't never felt like this before…"

   His body swayed, the man unhanding his groin and pressing it onto a nearby flat surface (a table, he'd assume if he could think properly anymore).

   He started looking around. "The heck am I… this ain't Alfetto…"

   A-Alfetto? That's not… is it? He was in that valley, a fight was going on… or, or was that just… a game? N-no, it was real, right?

   "What's goin' on…"

   He placed his unoccupied hand on his head. His mind felt scrambled. Memories twisting and shifting, identity in turbulence. Where was he? Who was he? He should know this goddammit!

   "Can't let your age get to ya' now, M… Mi-... Urgh-"

   His head ached. Shit, what was his name again? How the hell could he forget that…

   He groaned again, aches beginning to reverberate across his entire skull. The structure of it was increasing in size; lengthening, widening. His jawline resculpted itself, hardening and chiseling itself out into something more wide and blunted. His head's shape was looking more rectangular by the second. Structures on his face were next to change. His eyes were getting slightly smaller, his eyebrows getting more curved. His nose probably underwent the largest restructuring as it grew bigger, rounder, and slightly bulbous.

   Shortly after, hairs started to prickle across his face. Dark at first, but quickly shifting to a gray coloration. Stubbly fuzz running down the sides of his head, across his chin, around and above his lips. It soon began to grow, however. It was slow at first, but the pace soon changed as it quickly bloomed into a short beard. Short, well-kept, gray…

   His entire body had aged at this point, his face was about ready to catch up. His younger features faded rapidly; wrinkles etching themselves at the ends of his mouth, the edges of his eyes. His skin was getting a tough, weathered look to it. Older and older he got; early 20s, mid 30s, late 40s, mid 50s. More and more age was sleeping into his skin, alongside a massive X-shaped scar that slit itself across his face and scarred over in a millisecond. 

   As he aged, his once brown hair was graying as well. Starting where it met his beard, quickly extending to the rest of his scalp in the blink of an eye. His hairline was even beginning to recede a bit, granting the man a widow's peak in seconds. The curly, messiness it possessed was probably what changed the most though. Follicles were realigning as they pushed out his head, getting longer and longer. From the sides and from the back it became quite long, moving past the nape of his neck and reaching his upper back. As for the top of his head, it extended, but also styled itself, growing and aligning into a perfectly groomed pompadour-style.

   A soft green glow illuminated his eyes for a moment before subsiding. "Sparks, is this what death feels like-"

   He placed a hand on his chest. His… bare chest. A part of him reflexively squeezed a pec, the man shivering in response. "Wh-what am I doing…"

   His mind was still in a confusing mess. Parts of him that didn't feel like him were being subsumed, his identity trying to supplant itself firmly in his mind. Turmoil and chaos was trying to settle itself, pieces falling into place as he was trying to determine what the hell he was doing here-

   Alfetto Valley, Ouroboros Stone, Mœbius, those kids…

   He squeezed his chest again. Why wasn't his hand wet? He could've sworn he was shot straight through there…

   He tried to reorient himself, to look around, although he felt woozy and disoriented. He'd make a joke about being drunk right now if he was in his right mind.

   The final changes occurred as he stumbled; that being the shifts of his ill-fitting clothing. From an outside perspective, these changes were almost instantaneous. His button-up shirt fused with his jeans, the material of both articles of clothing seeming to harden into leather. Whatever buttons remained got consumed by the leather, the combined split growing a metallic zipper to compensate before beginning to zip itself up. The sleeves of his shirt seemed to almost disconnect, leaving the newly forming jumpsuit sleeveless. The disconnected sleeves formed a second layer of grayish-teal cloth that went across his chest to form a t-shirt. His jumpsuit continued to change, the material finally changing color to a plain gray while the size of it enlarged to perfectly fit his body. The collar of it unfurled and lengthened, almost going so high that it would graze his face.

   Additional bits were being added. Slits formed in the abdominal region of the material becoming welt-side pockets, meanwhile a pair of gusset pockets bulged from the thigh region. A belt materialized and snaked itself around his waist, adorned with pouches and a weapon holster. While his t-shirt formed, the part that touched his hand seemed to cause another sudden appearance of a new material, black leather encasing his hand and lower arm while a metallic goo emerged and solidified into an arm guard. A similar accessory seemed to appear on his other hand shortly after.

   The last changes reached the remains of what could barely be called his shoes anymore. The simple fragmented cloth and rubber that composed of the footwear's entirety expanded, the once-solid consistency seeming almost liquid as it consumed his foot and moved upwards and around the crus of his legs. It then shaped itself, molding into what appeared to be boots, garnering a leathery black texture while this occurred. Metal plating then emerged from that leather, a pair of guards strapping themselves around his lower legs.

   A boot practically stomped on the ground under his weight, the older man slowly regaining proper mobility absentmindedly. He didn't even notice an eye patch appearing out of thin air and strapping itself to his head, his mind registering it as having always been there.

   "C'mon, Guernica, ya know you haven't had anything…"

   Guernica! That's his name! 

   He squeezed a pec again, the mindless self-indulgence seeming to have faded. He could barely even recall what had happened in those last minutes, only recalling flashes of pleasure from one side of his mind while having flashes of war from the other. He let out a deep sigh. His chest didn't hurt anymore, and unhanding it he saw it was… fine. As if nothing was there.

   Looking up, he peered around the room he was in. Living room of some kind, pretty well furnished too. Although it doesn't feel like anything he's seen in the City. 

   As he thinks that, his eye catched a glance of a nearby window. It's noticeably dark out, but he can definitely see the night sky, the outside.

   "This definitely ain't the City…"

   So where did that leave him?

   Part of him wondered if this was one of those fabled upper realms like those he's heard the City researchers talk about in passing. Elysium? Or perhaps the divine upper plane beyond two giants?

   Agh, whatever. He didn't listen to them long enough to know. He doubts this is some kind of post-death paradise anyway. Especially since the last thing he could recall was activating that Ouroboros Stone, and feeling like his very soul was pummeled from its body. 

   Did he even get a chance to die?

   He growled to himself. "Don't go thinking those thoughts to yourself."

   He feels alive. He has to be. He's just in some… unknown world.

   "Hm. If this ain't Aionios…"

   This could be a big risk, but…

   He lifts up a hand and grasps a notch on his eyepatch's strap, squishing it around to undo it. It takes a few moments, but he manages to do so and remove the patch.

   He blinks his eyes. "Sparks, that thing gets hot…"

   He then feels something within his Iris. Crap, he hopes it ain't a Mœbius signal-

   But after a few moments, he registers the signal. It's familiar. It's…

   "Gray…?"

[yerbamansa]

Got tagged by @epersonae! Thanks! So I will tag other writer mutuals if you wanna have a go and/or didn't already get tagged (i keep losing track of tumblr scroll tbh): @thetragicallynerdy @alfalfairy @whose-modern-au-is-this @dragonmuse @sassygwaine @keriocabinet

Do you write in order? Generally, yes. Every once in awhile I'll have a scene or a little piece of something that gets written as it comes to mind, but it's often outline->write. The outlining/brainstorming process (as much as it is a process) is where the order happens.

This is notably not the case with Ask Me Anything, though, which is a collab and timey-wimey to boot, so lots of stuff needed to get figured out of order. We still haven't finished writing the chapter we're in the middle of posting, but the next one is finished and the rest are kinda 50/50 or 60/40.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try? Gonna say a good 85-95%?? Depends on the story and whether I'm getting other eyes on it before posting. Most of Revenge Ranch got written and posted with a cursory read-through for glaring errors. Kitchen Mistakes & How To Avoid Them, though, tends to have its word count/phrasing fluctuate like 10-15% every chapter thanks to a delightfully nitpicky beta reader.

How many drafts do you go through? I don't really draft, per se? I spit it out, I review it, I get feedback (sometimes), I make changes, annnnd I'm done. Well, I guess that's technically drafting phases, but it tends to be less thorough than what I'm picturing.

Tell me about your process. I get an idea. It takes hold of my entire goddamn brain. I am compelled to start writing it down in some loose structure, usually bulleted lists, just to get it out of my brain. Sometimes the idea keeps growing, almost self-propelled (All That I Need Is You And The Sea). Sometimes it incubates a bit before it comes together, and needs to keep being formed and re-formed as it goes (Kitchen Mistakes), but the idea is still kind of in charge, if that makes sense.

Other times, I really need to work at it, like, I know I want to do something with X character, but I need to do some background research, think about what my goals are for the thing, make notes on the POV character, etc. I put a lot of time into breaking down Revenge Ranch Roach for his POV story last fall, and that was kind of like pulling teeth, though I'm happy with the result. I think this version of the process might end up with more of "me" in it. Maybe because I have to work at connecting to it.

While I'm actually writing, I typically try to keep some VERY simple/high-level notes handy--like the key plot points/character notes to hit--but abandon the rest. Exception: if the background research includes some specific entity (object, video, song, etc.) I need to describe/reference in the story itself. Even if I don't feel like I'm in a 'flow' state or whatever, often I'll just sit there and try to start pecking out some dialog or description of wherever I'm at, and it starts to move along, or doesn't.

Sometimes I have to flit through a lot of background noise to find the right vibe for my brain at a given moment. The nicest, though, is finding one of those "8hr ambient aesthetic vibes" videos on YouTube that is kinda close to the setting I'm writing. There's a road trip Revenge Ranch story that I wrote while watching someone's dashcam video of a drive through New Mexico. I watched a TON of thunderstorm videos for a couple other entries. A chapter of Kitchen Mistakes that took place in Stede's study was helped along by one of those "evening fireplace and rain sounds" ambient videos. Fuckin' love those videos. It hits a sweet spot of noise (without lyrics or too much rhythm) and background imagery like watching TV, but without all the distraction.

In terms of technical settings: I like writing in LibreOffice when I can, but if I'm collaborating at all, it has to be GDocs. And I am a heavy user of headings/outlines in that case. I have a half-assed AO3 post template in LibreOffice with places for notes etc. to copy and paste in order. I've been known to make a spreadsheet when shit gets very complicated. My brain loves little boxes. I don't write on my phone except maybe some notes to self in Signal for ideas that come up when I'm not at my laptop. Love a physical keyboard and multiple windows, mmm, room to spread out and see lots of shit at once.

[timpac-capstone]

Week 6

I spent this week fixing up my Tumblr, I've never used Tumblr before starting my Capstone so I just assumed that it functioned similarly to Twitter since the top articles when you search up Tumblr are how it's a Twitter alternative. So my first couple of posts were very short and sweet, not even specifying the week these assignments are for and don't contain any reflection. However, after my professor showed me an alumni from last year's class Tumblr I had a much better understanding as to how my weekly posts should look like. I also watched a video by STRANGE ÆONS to learn all of this site's features and capabilities. If you look at my blog now it's a lot more neat and tidy which makes me way happier, I also started using hashtags so that people outside of my classmates and professors can chime in with their support and or criticism of my work. Unfortunately, that does mean I lost all the likes and reposts my Larry 3000 post had but oh well.

So normally whenever I have an idea for a YouTube video I always start out like this, I create a Google Doc and let my mind run free as I create bullet points trying to capture whatever I can from inside my head onto the page. The first couple of lines usually describe what it's about, an example here would be "Focus on the physical cringe feeling I get when I think about a dumb thing I said or did in the past", everything after that is jokes or funny scenes that I think up on the spot, usually in the form of a dialogue rather than the acting out of a scene. Then the next day I read through what I wrote and I try to put this jumbled mess into a cohesive script, still in the form of bullet points rather than the traditional look of a screenplay, and as I'm writing the script I think of even more jokes or brainstorm how to make a specific idea I really like work in this project.

I've tried writing screenplays before but it has always felt so unnatural to me and I feel like I lose a lot of my ideas in the process of trying to make this script look nice in comparison to when I just write everything in bullet points. But I know other people have to see and understand what I want to do with this project so I have to just figure it out. I've tried looking at a couple of videos that explain how to write a screenplay but most of them are around 15 minutes long and all I really want to know is how I describe where the camera is and the actions of the camera and the actions of the characters, which does not take 15 minutes to tell me. In the end, I was only able to get a page and a half done because as I was writing this script I was struggling to organize my preexisting ideas while trying to get all my new ideas onto the page as well. Also while all the new ideas I was coming up with were great it was starting to make this project feel a bit more overwhelming. I was now thinking, "Oh my god am I going to have to hire professional voice actors because of how many characters I'm thinking up, am I going to have to hire a musician to make a score for this, how am I gonna find all these sound effects, how many backgrounds am I going to have to draw" and ultimately I had to stop because my brain was feeling burnt out.

Example of how I usually write scripts:

REFLECTION:

So not a lot was done compared to the other weeks but that was because reorganizing and learning how to use Tumblr took a lot longer than expected. But I would say it was worth it because now everything is a lot more cohesive and presentable to viewers. I was also able to start making some actual progress regarding my animation by finally having a story but I realized while making the script that I might be a bit too ambitious and might want to try reworking the story into something that I can do with my skills and time frame given.

[theundercoverblogger]

Everyone should have one (a blog)

Hey Micah,

Do you also love the time between 3 and 6am? The early morning when everything feels surreal and which you can only access when you wake up a little too early to get started and a little too late to fully go back to bed. I find this is the best time for me to dream of what life could be. In a time where I often feel I have everything I want, it feels greedy to want more. It was also the time when I would wake up to get a couple extra gaming hours as a kid, especially Digimon World. A couple extra training shifts before my digimon inevitably evolved into a Numemon for reasons too cryptic for an 11-year-old (people are finding out new things about that game to this day).

My new routine is trying to sneak in reading an entry or two of my ex-boyfriend's Tumblr when I wake up at 5:40am. I feel as excited as I was when playing Digimon. The feeling of doing something forbidden that my awake self couldn't, something others wouldn't approve of; the mystery of what will come up "next".

Reading this blog, I have realized 3 main things: 1. I will be stealing and improving on this idea. 2. We should all have a blog. 3. We should be documenting our evolution.

On stealing and improving Stealing gets a bad rap. There's this whole debate of AI stealing the style of unconsenting artists and then using it to create new products that will be sold on their own. My take is tepid and very mid: Artists should not have to fight AI for their livelihood (they should not have to make art to afford to live) and we should improve AI to better track the input, so credit due can be given and so you can explore more of your favorite artist when you come across AI-generated content.

So, since I'm now crediting my latest ex-boyfriend with the Discovery of Tumblr, this is no longer stealing and since I'm addressing a friend in my writing, it's no longer derivative but rather improved. I think his writings died down because he didn't have anyone in mind when he was writing. Even the last one was addressed to a friend long gone, the kind you keep in a snow globe of a city you visited as a kid. However, he did share his blog with me.

I don't know if it was accidental, incidental or an attempt to show me the inner world he couldn't when we were together. I'm betting on the middle one, since he had me as one of his close friends and he wrote the post the day I broke up with him.

Sharing his blog made it come back to life: Someone is reading it. I've read half of it and I'm of a mind to read the whole thing. I've read through most of his Texaversaries, his moving to Austin and have spotted the one line where he acknowledges his relationship of 8 years.

So to make my writing come to life, I'm addressing you, Micah. I always try to address Dodo or Alex, the archetypes of a best friend in my mind. But honestly, I have so many people that deserve the title of "best friend" that I'll just choose one that feels particularly accurate: My writer friend of chance, whom I met on a drunken trip to Prague and who introduced me to Chance the rapper as we were making our way to Cuernavaca on that dark bus ride, 8 years, or so, ago.

We should all have a blog We should all let our inner teenager run wild with theories and musings nobody will ever take seriously, the discoveries that are full of common sense when contrasted to each other's. They are our discoveries and are as personal as a song written using the same chords as thousands before us. It is our blog.

But fuck it, let's rebrand. We should all have an experience--fuck, Airbnb already coined that. We should all have a story? Instagram. We should all have memories? Facebook. What about an Introspection? Or to make it sound fancy, some Selbstbetractung? Ah, nothing like bringing in some European flair to make things sound formal.

[Insert new name for blogs]. Much better. I can't believe we went with the term "blog" for so long. It's perfect early internet slang, but drat, imagine if Shakespeare had a blog!

Meanwhile, the connotation that a blog is a sandbox with toys buried here and there is appealing. A blog should not be a memoir. It should be dirty and rambling and uncomfortably personal. We need more privacy in our lives, enough to let us share the ugly and unkempt.

We should be documenting our evolution Back when I played Digimon World, I would always be annoyed that there was no way to keep track of what you started with. You would get your partner digimon and, unlike other monster collecting games, they would grow, die and be reborn as a completely new thing. But you only ever got one. The same companion to restart the cycle, a spiral that revolves.

I like to think that people are the same. I keep track of a "family tree" of sorts that shows all the different people I've been throughout my life, their influences, goals and passions. My ex, let's call him Lazarus, has clearly changed radically between his teens, 20s and so on. And so have you, Micah. You're still not in your 30s but I can see all your versions as clear as a family portrait: The young one eager to explore the world, learn German and learn about love; the rebellious brother who wanted to start his own company and question his identity, sexuality, even his relationship with his parents; the mature older brother with the ambition to climb the job ladder, with the impressive girlfriend, vision and lifestyle; and now, again, the writer who meditates with friends on a mountain while he dreams of Martian colonies and feuds between dynasties.

I call these versions relays, because they pass the baton of "who you are" at any given moment between them. I will write about it more in depth some day. Maybe I will get to write about the next generation of Micahs.

Looking forward to seeing you and to our South By adventure, Alan

[annacantdie]

written 6/30/21

1/2

It’s cold, and goosebumps are covering my body due to the seat I've chosen in this annoyingly trendy coffee shop. I’m not at my usual place, but instead at a grossly millennial shop in my least favorite spot to be, the college town in my area. I’m right under the air conditioning, and it isn’t very desirable. Not to mention the coffee I've ordered is utterly awful, and I’m debating not drinking it at all. But alas, I type away at my laptop, hoping that I can make something of this less-than-ideal situation. I had a thought, a few moments ago, that inspired this half assed Google Doc. All of these 20-somethings here, with their Birkenstocks and hollow smiles, make me feel a depressed state of grog. I’m young, not even 17, but if this is how I'm destined to turn out, a broke, starving artist spending my days connecting to free wifi and wishing my parents hadn’t kicked me out, I think I'll just end it early. I know what I look like, a pretty face clicking away at my keyboard during the summer, probably writing some half-assed hollow poetry that I’ll post on my Instagram story later with my coffee in the background. Any other time I'd seem like an innocent student writing an essay, most likely due the next day, but now? I look like the exact prerequisite to the people here. I’m writing my own destiny, spying through the looking glass of my future, and I haven’t accepted that yet. The question on my mind, plaguing my corrupted thoughts, is this. Who am I? Honestly. How often do I ask myself that. I know that at this point in my life I don’t really need to know persay, but it’s at least helpful to have an idea. I was a cute kid with an innocently curious and creative nature, I loved reading, immersing myself in any book I could get my hands on, and I loved writing, slaving away at my pink journal every night and writing fantastical stories during the days, but you would expect me to say that, wouldn’t you? You have an idea of who I am, a nicely dressed teenage girl with a coffee and a laptop writing extensintial half poetry to fill her empty slots of time, but you that’s all you know. Based on that knowledge, you hear about my childhood love of writing and reading and feel that it checked out, but in reality I could compare my childhood to almost any vaguely creative hobby. I took way too many baking and cooking classes, so who's to say I wasn’t destined for the culinary arts? I went through sketchbooks like an old man goes through packs of cigarettes, so who's to say I was destined to be a visual artist? No matter what I find myself enjoying now, my childhood, looking at it from a different angle, could reflect it. So if my childhood doesn’t define who I am now, then all I have left is the last few years. During my less than idealized teenage years experienced thus far, I've woven a tangled mess of my sense of self. We kicked off entering the teenage years with the idea of suicide washing over my mind constantly on my 13th birthday, and It’s just been up and down since then. I’d like to say my lowest point was and will be attempting suicide, but I don’t want to jinx it. I've had highs too, to be fair. But as for a sense of who I am, I find myself at a loss. Writing seems to be what I'm the best at, so that’s what my current and adolescent self has decided I'll try to do for the rest of my life, to have the telling of my childhood interests reflect, but it wouldn’t be a first choice. I love music and fashion, and if I could just weasel my way into a position where I could just immerse myself in those guilty pleasures forever, I would. But i’m a subpar musician, and my fashion sense is nothing to be awed at, and I probably shouldn’t waste these stupid, sticky fingers i’ve been given. I took my ACT test recently, and in a fashion so utterly predictable, I opted to take the essay portion as well. I wrote the shittest persuasive essay I think I've ever let spill out of my brain, but my formatting was good and so I did quite well. It’s odd, having tangible evidence that I'm a better writer than the average joe.

[yanderememes]

Solitary Love Chapter 1 (Yandere Giorno x Reader)

Hey yall! So I finally wrote my first fic 😳. Yikes. What a weird feeling. I'm somewhat proud of how it turned out but also nervous haha. Consider this my 1k follower gift 🎉. I really do appreciate all the love and support yall have given me since I started this blog many months ago. I love doing this and love talking with you all about my favourite anime, Jojo! ❤️ As long as you guys are here, I'll be here.

I'm by no means a writer and I do feel like I have a lot to improve on but it's all a learning process. This is a project I've been wanting to do for a while now. So if you're a fan of Yan!Giorno + chaptered fics + slow burn, then you're in for a treat! The first few chapters are gonna be boring though ngl, cuz I have to set up the stage for the more juicy chapters later on 😢

I would love to hear your thoughts on this project (even though it's only chapter 1 lol) and any feedback/comments you guys have to improve my writing or mistranslations on Italian (plz be nice tho, I'm a sensitive little bitch 😅).

This story takes place post-part 5 where Giorno is a 22-year-old Mafia Don. This story is a female reader x Giorno.

Special shoutout to @nanasparadise for inspiring me to publish my first fic 🥰

“They sure are late. Mista and Fugo.”

Giorno had been waiting here for almost half an hour. It was a long day and Giorno was about ready to go home. It was already night time and of course, it had to rain while he was waiting for his ride. Today he had to deal with more drug dealers trying to sell under his turf. Most likely from rival gangs. Usually, Giorno wasn’t the one who would go out on missions. He has plenty of men who could do it for him but he wanted to make an example out of the drug dealers. To show current and potential rival gangs what will happen to them if they try to sell under his territory.

What was taking them so long? Just when he was about to call them, his phone rang.

Speak of the devil.

“Sorry GioGio, got caught in traffic. I don’t know when we’ll be there” Fugo explained

“It’s a Friday night, after all,~” Mista added in the background

“I’ll call you when we’re here”

Not knowing when Fugo and Mista would arrive, Giorno decided to walk around the area to help kill some time. He came across a convention center.

It was 8 PM though. He doubted if it was still open but the light was still illuminated from the windows, so it must be open. Giorno was right as he was able to open the door to the convention center and walked right in.

Upon his little stroll around the convention center hallways, Giorno came across a wall of posters about the events that would take place today.

ComicCon. STAR Dancing. Cybersecurity & Tech. National Women’s Show.

But one poster, in particular, caught his eye.

The Psychological Association. To be discussed: childhood trauma, Stockholm syndrome, the art of persuasion, factors to long-lasting relationships, and more. 6 PM - 8 PM. Room 301B.

Giorno was always somewhat intrigued about psychology. The topics sounded worthwhile, and by the looks of it, a great way to spend time waiting for his ride.

Making his way down to room 301B, he quietly entered. Not a single sound was made since it appeared no one noticed his presence. The room was full and he walked in in the middle of a presentation. Giorno decided to stand beside the door, his back leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, bringing his attention to the speaker on the stage.

“... L'analisi dei dati ha evidenziato- (the data analysis showed-)”

Oh? Were you a foreigner? Based on your pronunciation, you sounded like one.

The way you spoke was very practiced. You didn’t speak Italian fluently and the tone wasn’t as elegant. Instead, it sounded like you practiced your speech over and over again until it was all ingrained in your memory. Like a robot retrieving their data.

Giorno stood and watched the rest of your presentation, consuming all the information you laid out.

***

“... Grazie per avermi ascoltato (Thank you for listening).” you thanked the audience and concluded your presentation.

He watched as you walked off the stage and scurried back to your group of friends who were cheering you on at the corner. They were praising you with toned downed excitement due to the professionalism here.

Giorno spent the remaining time watching the other presentations until the entire conference came to a close. Pulling his hands out of his pocket, he looked at his gold watch on his left wrist to check the time.

9:03 PM.

It’s been an hour and they’re still not here? How bad was traffic?

He pulled his head back and gave a huge sigh.

Composing himself, Giorno’s eyes landed on your figure. He remembered your presentation even if he wasn’t there for the first half. But your work was interesting. Probably the most entertaining one of the whole night. Though some of the information seemed vague which led him to more questions.

His thirst for knowledge persuaded Giorno to walk up to you. You were alone, thank God. It’d be awkward if your friends were there while he’s trying to get some answers out of you. Giorno prefers to talk to people one-on-one rather than in large groups.

“Buonasera” he greeted.

“Buonasera.”

Giorno thought he should speak to you in English. From his observations earlier, speaking Italian with you wouldn’t serve any use if you didn’t understand. “You did the presentation on the effects of childhood trauma and eating disorders correct? Very interesting work you have.”

You were taken aback by this stranger’s sudden English but you suppose he’s being mindful that you’re a foreigner. At least you can have a decent conversation if he’s speaking English. You weren’t confident in your Italian.

“Grazie. It was for my thesis. I worked long and hard on it. Had many sleepless nights. Living off nothing but coffee and energy drinks” you chuckled at your end remark. Bringing back stressful nights you’ve had to work on your thesis.

Giorno chuckled at your remark too. “I believe it was worth it, no? You had interesting findings and made great points that contribute to your field.”

“That’s true. But I would rather be sleeping on my nice, warm, comfy bed than writing a 50-page thesis.”

“I can’t deny that.” Sleep does sound wonderful. Giorno couldn’t wait to go home and finally get some rest. Being a mafia Don isn’t an easy job. He’s had many sleepless nights himself. He can sympathize with your feelings. But enough of that, time to say what he really came here for.

“I actually had some follow-up questions about your thesis. Mind answering them?”

“Ask away.”

***

“Wow. You seem to know a lot about plants. Did you go to school to study them?”

“I actually never finished school. Everything I know is from my own leisure time in reading.”

You give a lighthearted laugh, thinking that he’s joking and acting like a smartass. No way he’s so knowledgeable about botany from just reading books in his spare time.

But Giorno didn’t laugh with you. His face remained blank and unreadable.

“Wait. You’re serious? You never finished school?”

“Very serious.”

“Oh…” is all you could say. This man was full of surprises. You weren’t sure if your response was because you were shocked at his intelligence or became numb to it.

After this man had approached you and started asking questions about your work, the conference room got loud and it was hard to decipher what each of you was saying. Opting for a quieter location, the two of you left the conference room, where you sat by the nearby staircase. At first, it was like a Q&A. He would ask the questions, you would answer. Eventually, the conversation began branching out to other related topics and before you knew it, you were conversing like you two had known each other for a long time.

Speaking of which. You didn’t grab his name yet. You’ve been talking for a while and not once did it come across either of you to formally introduce yourselves.

“By the way, what’s your-”

“y/n! Time to go! The professor is calling us back.” just as you are about to ask this stranger for his name, your friend interrupted you

“Okay, I’m coming”

You stood up and started walking away but not without waving goodbye to the blonde man with a smile. “Buonanotte”

Oh well. You didn’t learn his name but you doubt you would ever see him again so it’s not a big deal.

“Buonanotte signora.” Giorno smiled back and waved as you disappeared from his sights.

Just then, Giorno felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the caller ID, it was Fugo. Looks like it was time for Giorno to take his leave too.

***

On the ride home, Giorno couldn’t stop thinking about you and replaying the conversation you two had on the staircase. It was the first time he was ever so engrossed in a conversation with someone before. Oddly enough, he felt safe. Like he didn’t have to play the role of Don Giovanna, Italy’s underground boss, the strongest stand user. He was just Giorno. He could be himself with you.

How strange. What a strange feeling this is. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it.

Intrigued? You were certainly a unique individual. And he’s met quite a number of “unique” people in his bizarre world. But most of these “unique” people he would meet were either already his allies or buried 6 feet under the ground.

He doubts you’re a stand user, but who knows? You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe you are one? That would probably explain the attraction. Stand users attract other stand users.

But regardless of whether or not you’re a stand user. You were still different. Giorno wanted to know more about you. You’re just so fascinating. His fatigue seemed to have diminished when he started talking to you. He forgot he was tired. Probably because the conversation was stimulating enough to energize him?

Giorno isn’t one you would call a social butterfly. He acts the part because the role of Don calls for him to be one. But the real him isn’t so extroverted. He can get tired from social events and they’re just so draining. That’s why it was strange to him how he conversed with you for so long. It wasn’t awkward like how most first meetings are. A lot of what he said came out naturally and effortlessly, and you were very receptive. Bouncing a lot of ideas with him and accepting his character.

Whatever the case may be, some unprecedented motivation sparked within him.

He wants to meet you again.

Fugo pulled up on the driveway of Giorno’s villa where several men in suits and butlers were neatly lined up waiting for his arrival.

The man standing in the middle of the line, named Antonio, walked up to the limo where Giorno was in and opened the car door. Almost instinctively, Antonio greeted the Don when he stepped out of his limo.

“Welcome home, Don.” Antonio bowed.

Giorno did not reply. He didn’t move from the spot where he was standing. Antonio couldn’t shut the car door because the Don was standing in the way.

Antonio could tell something was off. The Don is an efficient man. He would never waste time just standing there. Even in his “spare time,” the Don always had something to do. But for whatever reason Giorno was just standing there like he was in deep thought.

Antonio knew better than to ask. It wasn’t any of his business. Nor did the Don have any obligation to tell a simple henchman his problems. Never speak unless spoken to. That was the rule many had to follow when working for Don Giovanna.

“Antonio.” Giorno finally spoke.

“Yes, Don.”

“Provide me with all the information you can find on f/n. I want the report in by tomorrow morning.”

“I will have the report ready for you, sir.”

Giorno only nodded in response and began walking towards his front door.

The night certainly did not end the way he thought it would. But he’s not complaining. It was a pleasant surprise. The day started off horribly when he found out there were drug dealers roaming around his turf, but the night made up for it. He was more than satisfied with how his night ended. The drug dealers have been dealt with and he met someone new.

Was this fate? If Fugo and Mista weren’t caught up in traffic then Giorno may have never encountered you in that conference hall.

No. He must be overthinking it. You two only just met. He’ll probably get over it once he reads the report tomorrow.

But little did both you and Giorno know that this was only the beginning of a darker path.

[generalobi]

So I know you like just continued this, but I'm addicted to your Medlida/Daan story. Totally at your own pace, I would love to see more interactions between Obi-Wan & Jango & Jaster's possible arrival. Your writing is absolutely brilliant and I love how you wrote the Mandalorians reacting to these children forced to grow up so quick. Fantastic job.

Nield doesn’t look happy that Obi-Wan is giving them another lecture on Mandlorian culture. It’s not like Obi-Wan wants to be teaching a group of twelve teenagers a history he only half understands. Sometimes, the Force works in mysterious ways.

“The Manda’lor is usually a successive position,” Obi-Wan taps the word he’s scrawled on the wall, “Handed down either from parent to child, or from Manda’lor to a chosen successor. Te Sol'yc Mand'alor, or Mandalore the First in Basic, was supposedly the one who conquered Mandalore and exterminated the mythosaurs. The Manda’lor leads the clans, each clan has their own clan leader.”

Herti frowns, “Usually successive?”

“Uh, yes. Jaster Mereel, the current Manda’lor, was chosen by his faction as their Manda’lor and given the official title when the Haat’Mando’ade, the True Mandlorians, won the civil war. He’s elected his son, Jango Fett as his successor. I’m pretty sure I told you all this last time.”

Daria rolls her eyes, “We’re a Council of twelve equal leaders, idiot, most us weren’t listening to a word you said last time. You and I are the only ones who needed to know. Wait, did we ever tell them we were the planetary leaders?”

“That was in the original missive I sent them,” he says, exasperated, “Whether they realised exactly what that meant or not, I don’t know. Anyway, carrying on. Jaster Mereel has been Manda’lor for twenty years, officially for seven.”

“So about the same time we’ve been leaders?” Nield observes thoughtfully, “Remind me why he’s somehow more qualified than us?”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to scream, “Because, he was a leader for thirteen years before he was officially Manda’lor. Like I just said. He’s been Manda’lor for as long as I’ve been alive. We’re plenty qualified, but that doesn’t mean that we always were. We were just children, Nield. You know that as well as I do.”

“Obi-Wan is right,” Mal says, “Now, shut up and let him teach us history so we can keep our nice new trade deal.”

¬

Jango finds that the full MelidaDaan Council is a lot more impressive than he was expecting. Facing twelve battle-hardened veterans is intimidating, even if none of them are older than twenty-one. He imagines even his buir is feeling it.

“It is an honour to meet you, Manda’lor,” the oldest one bows stiffly, “I am Minister Nield. We are pleased to welcome you to our city.”

His buir bows back, “The honour is mine, Minister Nield. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Indeed,” another Minister inclines their head, “We understand you have some questions about our history. We would be more than happy to answer them over dinner, if you’d follow us?”

They’re lead into the same large hall Jango and Myles had been given their first meal in. This time, it’s just the Mandalorian delegation and the Council.

Jango finds himself seated across from Minister Kenobi. The polite smile on his face is a far cry from the genuine joy Jango had seen when he was surrounded by children. That joy… that laugh. He found that he wants to be the one who makes him laugh like that. Maybe, after they’ve got their answers and are no longer in the middle of a negotiation, he can try.

Food is brought in, all of the servers clearly of age. Maybe as a statement, maybe not avoid making anyone uncomfortable.

Jango’s buir has never cared for niceties, or stood on formality. Sometimes, he wonders if Jaster prefers his political opponents and allies uncomfortable.

“So,” his buir says, “We have questions. The first is, do you use child soldiers? Because Mandalorians do not stand for the abuse of children, no matter the reason.”

Minister Kenobi hums thoughtfully, “That is a more complicated question that you know. As you have probably noticed, there are very few adults among us.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

A girl with short cropped hair raises an eyebrow, “It’s not. Not here, not for us. Your children come of age at eighteen in war time, yes? My name is Jyfn, I was ten when we retook our planet. My parents did not want peace, so I ran away and joined the Young. We are all members of the Young. The Elders bombed and killed each other for hundreds of years, and the few left by the end were killed in the final battle, imprisoned for the crimes they committed or exiled themselves to the farmlands.”

A boy with scarred eyes continues, “The Elders blinded me. We were all child soldiers. We do not want to make the children fight, but many of us are children ourselves. Nield is the oldest, he is twenty-two this year. How do we define what an adult is, what a child is? We fought a war when we were nothing but babies ourselves.”

“Children younger than ten don’t work,” Minister Kenobi says, “Children younger than thirteen don’t learn to fight. Ten is how old our youngest Council members were when we won the war, and thirteen is how old I was. As we grow older, as our population grows, the ages will no doubt change. But, by your definition, we do have children soldiers. Some of this Council are child soldiers. I understand your discomfort, Manda’lor, however we cannot overcome our past in isolation from the galaxy.”

“I see,” Jaster scans the assembled Council, “Well, this food is very good.”

¬

It’s late, later than is acceptable to be wandering around. But Jango can’t sleep. Myles and his buir are still talking, trying to find more information without asking the Council to relive more of a traumatic past.

He’s hopelessly lost when he stumbles about Minister Kenobi. He’s sitting on a balcony, gaze on the cloudless sky. Jango debates just leaving him to it, but they might as well both not sleep together.

“Hello, Prince Fett,” he greets, without looking, “Can I help you?”

“I can’t sleep, and it seems you can’t either.”

He shrugs, “Oh you know, old memories and the usual insomnia. What about you?”

“Mostly horror,” Jango settles next to him, “We have a word for your Elders on Mandalore.”

“I know,” he smiles slightly, “Demagolka, right? The description certainly fits the Elders, though they never experimented on us. At least not overtly. They settled on lesser war crimes.”

“Like the murder of children?”

“Maybe not that lesser.”

Jango looks at Minister Kenobi’s moonlit figure. The sharp lines of his silhouette stark against the dark blue sky. He looks older and wearier in the strange half-light of the night. The subject of his stories to the children rises up in his mind. He spoke of Coruscant and Shili and Alderaan. With a civil war like the one here, there’s little chance he would’ve had the opportunity to visit them.

“Were your parents Elders, like the others?” Jango asks cautiously, wary of the answer.

Minister Kenobi doesn’t look at him, “No, at least not to my knowledge. I believe they were from Stewjon, and that they’re Stewjoni. I didn’t grow up with them.”

“Where did you grow up? And how did you end up here?”

“I think that is a story for another time,” he stands, “I must bid you goodnight, Prince Fett. Tomorrow is another busy day.”

“Goodnight, Minister Kenobi.”

He watches as the man slips back inside the Fortress, feet soundless on the tiles and a suspicion forming in his mind.