#hard to rewrite your subconscious

[mionemymind]

Chapter 3: Choosing for You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: The competition is here. Who will be the winner?

A/n: This was a long chapter, honestly might rewrite it, but here it is with all its mistakes and glories. And I'm sorry if you've asked to be tagged and wasn't included in this post, I'm posting this from work because I promised to give y'all something. (Gif credits to @elizabetholsens)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing, Alcohol, Mentions of Puking, Memory Loss, Panic Attack

Word Count: 7.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Fall Semester - Freshman Year

“Why does winning matter so much to you?” Winning hardly had rewards in life. Sure, there was sometimes money involved on the line but other than financial gain, winning was mainly there to feed the ego. For Natasha, she never viewed Y/n as someone that cared about being number one in life. Based on the few phone calls she overheard, the university felt like a getaway from troubles at home. So why did Y/n even want to win? 

The brown eyed girl sat in confusion. Her pencil was still as she wracked her brain for an answer. By all means, winning is fun. Back in high school, Y/n would naturally win things that being number one felt like home at that point. But having moved on from that mentality, winning wasn’t quite the same in Evergreen University. Well, it’s not like she had a chance to feel it when Wanda Maximoff was around. 

“If I’m being honest…I don’t think I’ve ever worked for a win in my life before.” The two locked eyes as Y/n softly confessed what was long on her mind. She placed her pencil down and gave Natasha her undivided attention. “Studying has never been my thing before up until now. Don’t get me wrong, I quite hate it, but it feels different now. Like if I just beat her once, then that high will be like nothing ever before.” 

“Does she really challenge you that much?” The question sunk into Y/n’s brain and into her deeper subconscious. She sat quietly, overthinking her answer. 

“I think…she’s the only one that ever challenged me at all.” 

Competition Day - Spring Semester - Junior Year 

‘Why does winning feel so wrong?’ Y/n looked in the mirror, splashing small bits of water on her face to help wake herself up. Rolling her neck, she could feel how stiff her bones were from last night. Unfortunately, the bus was no help at all, only providing mild comfort on their four hour journey. 

Stepping out the bathroom, Y/n wore the tightly pressed and cleaned uniform as Wanda started her speech for the group. “I want to thank you all for joining us today at this competition. For some of you, this is your first time ever attending the conference while for others, you are returning. Regardless, you’ve all earned your spots on this team, so congratulate yourself for that.” 

A couple of applauses were heard as Wanda smiled at the team. She briefly glanced to Y/n who was sitting all the way at the back of the bus. “I know that this bus is carrying some of the brightest minds that Evergreen University has to offer. Without a doubt in my mind, I know we can win this competition.”

Y/n looked away to the view of the hotel where the conference took place. The turmoil in her gut was hard to ignore as she focused on other things besides Wanda’s eyes. ‘Winning is a must. If I want to come back to her here, then I need to win.’ 

“However, winning is not always the priority. Overall, I’ve been more than happy to see everyone grow into their strengths and even improve your weaknesses. Your efforts have been highly noted by both of your captains.” Y/n looked back at Wanda, her stare as confident as ever. 

“We want to thank you all for all the nights, practices, and energy you’ve committed to be in this competition.” Wanda looked over as the bus entered the garage of the hotel. “Okay, everyone come in for a quick send off.” 

Everyone gathered into a huddle, placing their hands in the middle. “On three - one - two - three - Evergreen! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Their hands lifted into the air as Wanda looked at Y/n with a determined smile. 

‘I’m going to win.’ The brunette thought as she stared into those brown eyes, but little did she know the costs of this win.

The hotel was massive. It was honestly a surprise at how many schools can fit into one place. Some had to fly in, having been more than five hours away. The group followed Wanda to the selected tables meant for Evergreen University. 

“Break into your groups, Y/n and I will be investigating the brackets to see who we will be versing first. We have about an hour before round one is officially called. If you need to change or use the bathroom, this is definitely the time to do so. If you have any questions or concerns, please let Y/n and/or I know immediately.” 

Doing as told, the members immediately broke into their four person group and discussed strategies for round one. When no one came up to ask any questions, the pair walked off out of the conference room, and into the large hall that had many posters hung up with all the different brackets. 

There was a small but comfortable silence as Wanda walked slightly ahead from Y/n, focusing on finding out who they were versing first. While Y/n was also thinking of the competition, she wondered if they were ever going to talk about last night. 

Walking up to the first bracket they could find, Wanda took a picture of it and sent it to the math club group chat for everyone to see. “Princewell University, Maroon State College, and Gale College, not a bad start. Looks like we’re going to easily make it into the second round.” 

Since Y/n was unable to sleep last night, she made use of her time by looking over the bracket. Going over the many possibilities, there was still a high chance of her group making it to the top five. Round one was thankfully full of easy opponents having judged their previous matches with other schools. 

“I agree. Looks like our main trouble is with Harford University. But they’re all the way at the otherside. I’m hoping Legacy College takes care of them so we don���t have to,” Wanda comments. She turned to face Y/n, taking a good look at her clean uniform and brushed hair. 

“I need you to be on your A-game today.” Unsure of where Wanda’s seriousness was coming from, Y/n nodded in understanding. “If you can give me that, I’ll overlook this morning.” 

Puzzled by her statement, Y/n asked, “What are you talking about?” Wanda crossed her arms, trying her best to be level headed at the moment. 

“You wreaked alcohol. Last night was a supposed to be a get together, not an opportunity to get drunk.” The judgment coming from Wanda’s tone felt like a slap in the face as Y/n took one step back. 

“Are you kidding me? I took one drink. I wasn’t the one that was drunk last night. Are you seriously remembering the same night as me?” The small moment with Wanda was all that Y/n replayed in that moment. 

‘Apologize and I’ll forgive you for everything - apologize and I’ll let go of this whole feud.’ Whether Y/n was going to loudly admit it or not, the small ounce that she saw of Wanda’s true personality changed her view of the brunette. Even if the conversation was small, even if Wanda didn’t hear her response, even if it was a drunk confession, Y/n was going to cling to it. 

Wanda was always the girl that was number one but in that small moment, Wanda was just a girl who wanted to win for the sake of not disappointing her father. Because God, how could someone ever be disappointed in Wanda Maximoff? And how could they not see just how amazing she was? 

But as Wanda rolled her eyes, and hardened her stare, Y/n knew none of that moment mattered to Wanda, not when her green eyes still showed some form of hatred. “I remember last night clearly. Everyone in the group arrived and managed to say check in with me. You were the only one in the group that I didn’t even get to see. Once it was late, I went back to my dorm and slept. But it’s obvious why you avoided me - you were too busy drinking rather than focusing on the competition.”

“That’s not-”

“I don’t want to hear your explanation. Your team deserves a good leader and if you can’t provide that, I’ll make sure that math club will be looking for a replacement captain next semester.” The pounding in Wanda’s head was hard to ignore as she walked away from Y/n, not even bothering to hear her side. 

‘Focus. Everything will be alright if you just focus.’ The ringing in Y/n’s ears was louder than the judge in front of her. The question left his lips almost slipped past the girl but thankfully her teammate, Luke, was paying attention, easily answering the question. 

“Another point for Evergreen University, which solidifies their victory for this match!” Cheers erupted from the crowd as each group got up, giving the other members handshakes for the great match. 

‘I can’t fucking focus.’ Y/n wore a fake smile as she congratulated the other captain on the team, quickly walking off the stage. Ever since her interaction with Wanda, her nervousness and anxiety came back in full throttle. Her mind went from completely tired to panic. And while her drive to win increased, it came with overthinking as well. 

“That was a great match everyone! I’m so proud of you all for being so great for these four rounds that I haven’t had to worry one bit.” Well Y/n did worry, just not for her team’s sake. “I’m going to go ahead and let the staff know about our victory. In the meantime, go ahead and relax at our table. After the fifth round, let me know if y’all want snacks. I can go ahead and purchase them for everyone.” 

“Thank you Y/n. We appreciate it!” Luke stated, he was a returning member of the competition, one that Y/n knew well. Letting the group walk away, Y/n finally brought her guard down as she walked out of the conference room and to the direction of the staff booth. 

‘I can’t believe I fucking froze.’ Y/n knew the question was for her, yet she had to rely on her team member for something she could’ve easily answered. Wiping her frustrations off her face, Y/n tried to compose herself before she approached the staff. 

“School, team, and placement?” The lady wore rectangle shaped glasses. She offered Y/n a kind smile, ready to write the results. 

“Evergreen University, team two, and we won our match.” Y/n peeped her name tag, Laura, as she wrote down the results. 

“Looks like you’ll be versing Apollo College next in conference room seven.” Laura handed Y/n a slip of paper with the information before calling next. 

Shoving the paper in her pocket, Y/n walked past several conference rooms, their doors open for anyone to watch their matches. None of them interested her, but her voice certainly did. Stopping at the entrance of the doors, Y/n watched Wanda flawlessly answer the question. 

The bright light focusing on her group amplified her natural beauty. Y/n could pick up on every single detail, something she already knew like the back of her hand. Her jaw clenched as she noticed Wanda's smile, the same type of smile she had when she got hundreds on tests. 

The anger inside Y/n manifested once more. She could legitimately feel herself start to boil the more she stared at Wanda. It was dangerously coming close to the anger she felt when she lashed out at Natasha that one night. 

Clenching her fists, Y/n walked away from the match, unable to stand Wanda any further with thoughts of winning in her mind. 

‘You’re making mistakes.’ Wanda stood in the crowd with her arms crossed. The displeased look on her face was hard to miss as she witnessed Y/n make her third mistake of the match, causing another precious point to be missed. Her brain rushed through many thoughts of disappointment towards the girl she used to hold to a high regard. 

‘This isn’t like her.’ But the frown on Wanda’s face deepened, did she really know Y/n at all? Yes, she can admit that Y/n was smart. Smarter than a lot of people at their university. But other than that obvious characteristic, Y/n was admittedly someone she only knew at surface level. They’ve hardly spoken outside classes or math club. Essentially, she was just a stranger that was smart. 

Shaking away the sadness that was snaking through her, Wanda watched as Y/n sat back in her seat. 

The shame that Y/n carried on her shoulders felt massive along with the anxiety that continued to paralyze her more and more. The brown eyed girl was certain of her answer, so when the judge loudly announced that she gotten it wrong, embarrassment flooded her senses knowing that Wanda was in the crowd, silently judging her every move. 

It all came down to the final question of the match. Whoever answers correctly will have to verse Wanda’s team. Luke, once again, got up, ready to answer the question. All eyes were on him besides Wanda and Y/n. 

As the two finally locked eyes, Y/n couldn’t help but drown further in Wanda’s rage. ‘Forget everything I ever said - I do fucking hate you, Wanda Maximoff. And I hope you never forget that.’

-------------

“We need to talk.” Celebrations for Evergreen University were deaf to Wanda’s ears as she held Y/n’s wrist. Quickly, she led them out the crowd and through the near empty hallway outside the conference room. Dropping her wrist, Wanda stood there fuming with anger. 

“What was that?” Y/n didn’t want to speak, unsure of what would be the ‘correct’ choice of words for the brunette. And by the looks of it, nothing was going to satisfy her. Choosing to be silent anger Wanda ever further. 

“This isn’t the time to be childish - you’re making mistakes and if it wasn’t for your team, you wouldn’t have had this spot in the finals.” Y/n clenched her jaw as she bit her tongue. Sure she made mistakes, but it hurt Y/n to realize that Wanda didn’t even care for the ways she did contribute to the team. 

Mistakes were permanent for the girl that was always perfect. That was something Y/n realized now more than ever. 

“Can you not let go of three mistakes, Captain?” Y/n continued to stare off at the other side of the hallway, refusing to make eye contact with Wanda. Her words sneered off her mouth, feeling disgusted at the way Wanda ridiculed her every move. 

“Un-fucking-believable. Dean Holloway was right.” At the mention of the Dean, Y/n’s blood ran cold. Her eyes locked with Wanda’s, as the brunette stood there. “You take everything as some type of joke. And to think I stood up for you.” 

Y/n’s mind scrambled on what possibly happened between Dean Holloway and Wanda. ‘Does she know about my scholarship?’

But why on Earth would Wanda assume such things if she knew about her scholarship? Pressing for more information, Y/n asked, “What did he say?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. ‘Of course that’s what she would focus on rather than her own mistakes.’ Looking at the time, there were twenty minutes left before the final. The brunette should have been using this time to help practice with her team, yet here she was arguing with Y/n. 

“Last week,” Wanda sighed. This all felt pointless to admit but she felt that Y/n needed to know. Maybe this could be what straightened up her act. “Dean Holloway asked me to reconsider your place in this competition.” 

“What?” Y/n took a step back at the confession, feeling more hopeless at how rigged everything was. ‘How could he do this to me?” 

“I told him that I could trust you - that you were the only person besides me adequate enough to lead the math club. Somehow, he managed to let me know that you were slipping in classes. No longer being at the top.” Wanda looked at Y/n. She focused on all the minor details of the face that haunted her mind. But upon seeing how hurt those brown eyes looked, Wanda couldn’t help but falter slightly. 

“I wanted to believe that it was all wrong, but now…” Y/n silently pleaded as her mind went into overdrive. Couldn’t Wanda see how innocent she was? How she had been studying day and night for weeks just to make it another year at Evergreen? Couldn’t she see that this was all for her? 

“I think we should go back to our groups. We need to prepare for the final. But Y/l/n…after this competition, we might have to reconsider your place as captain for math club.” 

How cruel the world must be for the universe to deal Y/n such a bad draw? And how awful it must feel to know that Wanda was the one that delivered the final blow? 

‘I have to win for me.’ Water dripped down Y/n’s face as she stared at herself in the mirror. There was five minutes left before she was expected to take the stage. Currently, Y/n was in the bathroom, hoping to subside the panic attack that was itching to come out. 

‘Even if the school doesn’t want me, even if Wanda doesn’t want me, I want this more than anyone.’ Gripping the counter for stability, Y/n slowed her breathing down, hoping it would be enough. She wasn’t going to let the world decide her fate even if it had cheated her of a fair opportunity. 

“Welcome everyone for the final match for the annual math club state competition. I’m thrilled to announce that this year’s top two teams both come from Evergreen University!” Applause rumbled throughout the large conference room as the rest of the school's watch in anticipation. 

Wanda sat in her seat, overthinking her conversation with Y/n earlier. ‘Did I go overboard?’ Sneaking a glance at Y/n, it was hard to get a read of what the brown eyed girl was thinking. ‘Whatever, she needed to know.’

Pushing her thoughts to the back, the brunette focused back on the competition. It was finally her turn to go up as well as Y/n’s. 

“Please find the inverse of the following equation.” Like a switch, everything in Wanda’s mind grew silent as she focused on the question on the screen. In seconds flat, she hit the buzzer to submit her answer. 

“And the correct answer choice was…C, point goes to team # 1.” This was Wanda’s element - this was her reason for being. Glancing at Y/n, Wanda knew her purpose. She was number one and god forbid anyone that stood in her way. 

The competition went by like a blur. In the first quarter of questions, Wanda’s team led with a gap of seven points. However, after a couple small mistakes by her team members, Y/n’s team was able to catch up and shorten the gap. 

Right now, there are only five questions left. The score remained tied as Y/n tried her best to remain perfect. If things were to continue the way they were, the last question would determine the winner. 

Before she knew it, it was finally her turn. Standing up to take the podium, Y/n glanced at Wanda accidentally locking eyes. ‘I will be the one to defeat you, Maximoff. I will make sure of it.’

Fall Semester - Freshman Year 

“I’ve never seen you study so much before. It’s kinda freaky.” The two roommates sat around the small circular table in the middle of the room, enjoying a couple of drinks and snacks. Natasha begged for Y/n to stop for at least a small break, having missed talking to her roommate. 

“Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do.” Y/n stretched her legs at her sat position. Rolling her neck around, a couple of pops and clicks could be heard. 

“Why do it? Your grades are fine the way they are.” Y/n looked back at the pile of books on her desk. She never really recalled studying this much before during her high school days. Heck, she’s been able to get by this whole time just by how naturally smart she was. So when she looked back at Natasha, there was this ‘ya know’ look in Y/n’s eyes. “Does it have to do with Wanda?”

Y/n smiled at the mention of the brunette. It was odd at how many classes they were in together even though their majors were entirely different. There was something about Wanda that caught Y/n’s eye. She didn’t quite know what it was and didn’t quite want to delve too much into it. 

“And if it does?” Y/n sipped on her drink, a smirk on her face as she avoided Natasha’s question. The red head shook her head, grabbing a chip.

“Well - you speak of her like she’s a God.” Eating a couple more, Natasha watched as the glimmer in Y/n’s eye brightened every time the brunette was brought up. Like the simple mention of Wanda could make Y/n smile instantly. 

“Wrong, Wanda’s not a God. Gods make mistakes,” getting closer to Natasha’s face, the red head could smell the faint of alcohol on Y/n’s lips, “and Wanda Maximoff does not make mistakes.” 

Y/n leaned back, still drinking the rest of her drink as Natasha looked at her roommate with a puzzled look. “Whatever you say. Just try not to make this a habit now.”

Y/n shook her head, feeling optimistic that she’d beat Wanda soon enough. Probably in the same semester. “I won’t. Promise.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in our state’s history the competition’s fate lied in the last question.” The crowd applauded for the accomplishment as the judges beamed in smiles towards Evergreen University. “.As your judges, we believe this calls for a special problem. We’ve rewritten the last question to make it a more challenging problem.”

“With one point in the lead, if Wanda answers the question correctly, her team will solidify the win. If Y/n answers the question correctly, this competition will proceed to overtime.” 

Y/n and Wanda stood at their podiums, anticipation both killing them. “Here is your question.” 

As the screen showed off the problem, Y/n could feel herself standing tall as she looked over the problem. It was a multistep calculus problem that involved finding the inverse of a 3x3 matrix. Essentially, a problem that would require two pages of work just to find a solution. And by the looks of it, Wanda was already finished with the first quarter of the work. 

Calming her breathing down, Y/n cleared the noise from her head.  She looked back at the problem, digesting all of what it told. ‘This is just another problem, Y/n.’ Thinking lightly back to the days where math was just a fun activity to do, Y/n finally smiled, remembering the feeling where math naturally came to her. 

Letting the feeling sink in, Y/n started to solve it. The crowd waited with whispers and talks of who was going to win. Many people in the crowd believed Wanda would secure another victory as she did in the past. Very few people cheered for Y/n, simply wanting to believe in the underdog. 

A few minutes later, Y/n approached the final bits of her answer, immediately eyeing the answer choice on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat realizing that she could do this - that she could win. 

Before she could reach out for the answer, Wanda had buzzed in first with her choice. Suddenly, everything inside Y/n shut down as she saw Wanda smile once again. It was that infamous smile that she grew so used to. 

‘This can’t be it. This can’t be the end.’ Feeling herself lock up again, Y/n didn’t dare to look at the screen, hoping to save some of her dignity that was barely left. 

Believing the world to be crashing in front of her, she failed to realize that Wanda had made a mistake. The screen glowed in bright red as her answer choice was incorrect. “Y/n, looks like the question is left to you. You haven’t locked in your answer, so what will it be?” 

Y/n looked up, unable to digest that Wanda actually messed up. The Wanda Maximoff made a mistake. Fighting back the smile on her face, Y/n reached out for the correct answer choice, her finger tips grazing answer choice B. 

The smug look on her face was hard to miss. Everyone on her team knew they would come home with the victory. Wanda’s team sighed in defeat knowing that Y/n would answer correctly. 

So why did everything change when Y/n glanced at Wanda? Why did her heart hurt at the sight of Wanda spilling angry and frustrated tears? Why did her breathing stop? And why did all thoughts consume her? 

Wanda never cried or at least in front of Y/n or anybody. She was always the strong and confident girl that knew every answer for every question. She walked like she was untouchable. So how did she mess up? 

‘Please stop crying,’ she thought. Her heart constricted knowing she was the reason Wanda was crying. Yet every ounce of her brain yelled for her to press the damn answer, to finally prove to Wanda that she could be defeated, to finally get the win that she had been craving for since freshman year. 

So why couldn’t she just fucking press it? Looking back at the crowd and at the answer written down on her paper, her free hand crumpled the sheet as her heart overtook what her mind pleaded. 

Feeling like time stopped, Y/n held her breath when those green eyes locked with her. ‘I want to win…I want to stay…but at the cost of this…this isn’t a win.’ 

Beyond logic and reason, Y/n pressed her answer. Confetti blew in the air as the judge announced, “And the winner is team # 1 with Wanda Maximoff as their team captain. Congratulations to Evergreen University!” 

Regardless of what Wanda had ever done, said, or thought, Y/n knew that today was all because the school wanted to so badly pin Wanda against her. But Y/n finally knew better. This will not be the day she wins. This will be the day she was finally okay to be second to Wanda. 

Many cheers and laughter filled the bus as the group celebrated the Evergreen University win. Wanda had been smiling so hard since the award ceremony that her cheeks started to hurt.

As she looked over the trophy, her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the sleeping figure near the back of the bus. ‘I almost lost it,’ Wanda thought. It was unlike her to make a mistake and if she was being honest, she didn’t know what to blame. 

As much as she wanted to overlook her work, she wanted to leave that mistake in the past and enjoy the win. But as she kept looking back to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word to her since the final match, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. 

Regardless, the drive back to Evergreen was filled with joy as Y/n finally slept after a long exhausting day. 

Finals Week - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Wanda loved winning…but lately, it had a sour taste in her mouth. Finals week came in full swing, giving zero time for Wanda to dissect this weird feeling in her chest. She had helped some of her friends and classmates with studying, making her even more busy than usual. 

By the time she was done with tests, the sour feeling still sat in her chest. With only two days left, Wanda couldn’t help but lose some sleep over this feeling. Why was winning suddenly so bad? When did it become something she felt guilty for? 

Subconsciously, her mind gravitated towards Y/n. In her dreams, the moment before Y/n answered the final question replayed constantly. It was as if her mind took a vivid recording of the whole interaction. And as she replayed the moment she locked eyes with Y/n, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like the trophy wasn’t meant for her. 

Of course she downplayed the scenario, believing that this was another mistake that Y/n had made for that day. And the words of Dean Holloway, this was something Y/n never took seriously. So why did she vividly remember how Y/n’s eyes looked the moment she had chosen her answer? Why did Y/n look so accepting of defeat? Why was there no anger or thrive behind them? 

And the more she thought, the more she realized how little she saw of Y/n during the whole week. Friday, the last day of the semester, came around. During the test, her mind suddenly diverted to her. So when Wanda looked up and found Y/n in the crowd, she couldn’t help but want to talk to her, to see what exactly happened in that moment. 

Was it something she made up in her head? Was she feeling weird for actually making a mistake in front of people? Was this blown out of proportion? 

Regardless, Wanda didn’t dare describe this feeling as part of missing Y/n. Cause if she had, maybe she would have realized sooner that winning felt wrong this time. Because maybe, just maybe, it had pushed away the person that actually understood her better than anyone else. 

Last Night - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Y/n Y/l/n,

We regret to inform you that your scholarship has been revoked for the following 2019 fall semester. This decision was not made lightly as the board is aware of the accomplishments you’ve brought to Evergreen University. Nevertheless, the requirement to place #1 in the most recent STEM competition was something we could not ignore. 

We do hope you decide to enroll for your senior year. For further information on financial aid or loan applications, please visit the Bursar’s office. 

Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences

Cedric Holloway 

Evergreen University

The letter sat on the Y/n’s near empty desk as she continued to pack in preparation for tomorrow. It was the last night on campus for every student. While many chose to celebrate it with a party, Y/n chose to spend it alone. 

The silence of her room provided some comfort as she cleared her bookshelf. “Why must I have so many books?” 

While Y/n never imagined this would be where her college career with Evergreen ended, she certainly never regretted her choice. Then again, she hadn’t been home in forever, so that may change soon once she goes back. 

Looking back at Natasha’s fully furnished side, Y/n could feel some guilt rising to her chest as she hadn’t broken the news yet to her best friend. Not wanting to burden the red head with a sad night, Y/n remained silent, hoping tomorrow would be best to break the news. 

As for Y/n’s group, none of them were particularly angry about her mistake. Everyone tried their best to cheer their captain up, providing some comforting smiles and words. None of it truly mattered though. This was Y/n’s choice to make and she fully knew the consequences of it. 

So for the first time in a while, Y/n was actually alone and not studying. That was until she came. Wanda stood in the hallway, thinking of how she would talk to Y/n, to hopefully apologize. She carried the trophy that was mailed in from the conference, one that actually had her name engraved on it. 

But the trophy felt heavy and awkward in her hands, but it was the closest thing Wanda could think of as a conversation starter. Pushing her anxieties away, Wanda walked to Y/n’s dorm, surprised that the door was actually opened. 

The first thing she noticed was the pile of boxes that almost blocked the doorway. Looking past it, Wanda couldn’t help but notice how bare Y/n’s side looked. 

“What are you doing?” Y/n jumped from the corner of her room, hand on her chest.

 “Jesus Christ, Maximoff, can you give a girl a warning?” 

Wanda placed the trophy in the hallway, and walked around Y/n’s room, not caring for an invitation inside. Thinking back to the dorm setup, Evergreen University typically had students stay in the same dorm assigned to them from freshman year all the way to junior year. During senior year, students would be upgraded to bigger dorms. 

“I thought you couldn’t transfer dorms till senior year was closer?” Wanda turned around to face Y/n, the empty side didn’t make sense as juniors typically left their items alone throughout the summer. 

Y/n’s eyes glanced at the letter on her desk. “I’m moving to a new scenery.” She picked up the box with her knick knacks and placed it on top of the letter, hoping Wanda didn’t notice. The brown eyed girl leaned against her desk. She tilted her head noticing the shiny object in the hallway. 

“Is that the trophy?” Wanda looked back, almost forgetting what she came here to do. She walked back to the hallway and grabbed the trophy. Their fingers brushed as Wanda handed it to Y/n. “Wow! It’s…it’s really beautiful.” 

Y/n rubbed her thumb across Wanda’s name. Wanda Maximoff 2019 Champion. “Congratulations by the way. Sorry I wasn’t able to say it back on stage.” Y/n handed the trophy back to Wanda. If the girl was paying attention, she would’ve noted the odd look Wanda gave her. 

Something was different and Wanda hated it. Winning always gave her a high but something about this interaction increased the bittersweet feeling in her chest. “What dorm hall are you relocating to?” Wanda placed the trophy on Y/n’s desk. “I could help you out if you need it.” 

Already ready to help out, Wanda lifted the box of knick knacks, her fingers brushing over the letter. “Wanda-,” Y/n startled herself, not expecting to nearly yell at Wanda, “I- I -” 

No words left Y/n’s mouth as those green eyes stared back at her. Suddenly, all those times where they yelled in each other's face came to mind. How close were they to ever…? 

Y/n sighed, there was no use hiding from the truth now. “I’m actually going back home.” Wanda placed the box back down, still not understanding why Y/n’s things were packed. “I’m-” 

Y/n scratched the back of her neck, avoiding Wanda’s stare. “I’m transferring to Langford University.” An eerie silence settled in Y/n’s room. So when Y/n got the courage to look back at Wanda, she hadn’t expected the teary eyes and offended look on Wanda’s face.

“You’re transferring? Why?” Moving off the desk, Y/n sat on her bed as Wanda leaned back on to the desk. “It’s - complicated. I really don’t want to go into it.” 

Wanda’s hand balled up into a fist. The lack of details pissed her off. “You’re seriously not coming back?” Wanda hated how bitter everything tasted. The sight of her trophy pissed her off even more. 

Y/n opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She didn’t know what to say. She was leaving what she called home for the past three years. Not only that, she was leaving the girl that has been there since her first day. What could she even say?

Before she could admit anything, Y/n’s phone rang, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Sorry, let me take this real quick.” Y/n walked out to the hallway to answer her phone. 

Wanda sighed with her head hung low. What was she going to do now? Being #1 was something her parents always pressured her to do. But ever since she met Y/n, #1 was something that motivated her to get out of bed and start the day extra early. Meeting Y/n meant countless hours studying just to make sure she knew the lessons by heart. Meeting Y/n meant her life revolved around beating the girl in every single thing. And as harsh as it sounded, it was the only way Wanda knew to get closer. 

She turned around and glanced at the open box. There was a various amount of figurines, crystals, and journals thrown in. Wanda picked up a green crystal, one that almost matched her eyes. She remembered the day back in freshman year where Y/n had admitted she recently got into collecting crystals. Wanda thought at first it was a waste of money until she stopped by a local shop. 

The red head could see why it was intriguing to buy them especially when you believe the auras and specialities that a certain rock can bring to your life. So in secret, Wanda bought a sphere of rose quartz and placed it in her room. She didn’t notice anything different in her life but then again, all her thoughts already surrounded Y/n. 

Wanda looked back at the hallway and could hear Y/n still talking on the phone. It felt wrong to steal, especially since that was a no no in the crystal community. But the idea of Y/n leaving her without a single thing to keep for herself felt cruel. So when she slipped on the necklace, as if it already belonged to her, she could feel her heart skip a beat at the thought of Y/n giving it to her. 

Wanda tucked the crystal under her shirt when her fingers brushed the letter once more. The school logo printed on the top right called her name. It felt wrong to intrude, but the more she reminded herself of the situation, the less she cared about her morals. 

Gently sliding the letter from under the box, Wanda quickly read it. Eyebrows furrowed, Wanda read “We regret to inform you…”

Y/n shuffled back into the room causing Wanda to straighten up. “Sorry about that. I need to get Natasha. She’s stuck at some frat party without a ride back home.” The brunette crumpled the piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket.  Y/n was too distracted to notice. “Again, I’m really sorry but congratulations on the win Wanda.” Y/n looked at Wanda with the most sincere eyes. “Incase no one has told you, I’m really proud of you.” 

With one last look, Y/n left her dorm, hoping the Wanda would be decent enough to lock it up for her. And all Wanda could focus on was the sound of her name leaving Y/n’s lips. ‘You never call me Wanda.’

‘Like hell I’m going to let this happen.’ Wanda stormed into her father’s office, knowing he would be working another late night. The clear warm glow from his room indicated that he was there. 

Storming through the doors caused him to look up from his computer, clearly unexpecting guests at that moment. 

“Give her scholarship back.” Wanda slammed the letter onto his desk, crossing her arms hoping to show that she wasn’t messing around. The brunette couldn’t think straight about anything after she fully read the letter, and by now, she didn’t know whether to strangle Y/n for not telling her or for her father to even approve such decisions. 

“This decision was not made lightly.” Wanda could read past her father’s sentence and she was not going to take no for an answer. 

“Then clearly you’ve made the wrong decision.” Eric sighed knowing just how stubborn his daughter was. It was unfortunately a trait she got from him. Knowing fully well just how smart Wanda was, explaining this decision was going to be a disaster and a headache away. 

Looking past the letter and into his daughter’s eyes, he’s never seen her be this angry. Sure they’ve had arguments, but they’ve subsided ever since she started to attend college. Eric was hoping it was because Wanda was getting older and more mature. 

But as she stood there, eyebrows furrowed with a frown on her face, it felt like she was 16 all over again. Not wanting to beat around the bush, Eric figured to cut to the chase. 

“She’s a threat.” He didn’t like to admit it, but there was hardly anyone on campus that could match his daughter’s intelligence. This was something Eric wanted to keep. But the more he noticed Y/n move up on the Dean’s list, the more he feared Wanda’s spot would be threated. While he was confident in his daughter’s ability, he simply wanted to keep her spot safe. And that meant dealing with Y/n.

“She’s my equal.” All the guilt from the competition finally made sense. And as more things continued to click, the more Wanda stood in horror at the things she said to Y/n. This was all starting to become a nightmare, one that Wanda prayed to go away. But the look on her father’s face pissed her off even more. “If you don’t, I’m transferring. And there’s nothing you can do that will stop me.” 

Giving him no time to respond, Wanda walked out of the office. There was no time to think about her ultimatum, not when all she could think about was Y/n. 

‘Say something to her, Wanda, for fucks sake.’ It was finally the last day of the semester. Every student was mandated to leave by a certain time. While there was a large crowd of kids with their backpacks and suitcases, all Wanda could focus on was the goodbye happening between Natasha and Y/n.

The brunette had stayed up all night figuring out ways to get Y/n’s scholarship back. At one point, she even considered paying for Y/n’s tuition herself if it meant getting her to come back. But her father would immediately block her allowance if he caught wind of this. 

So far, she hadn’t gotten a response back from him. ‘Maybe he needs more time.’ But time was running out as Natasha helped Y/n with the last box. Percy was already in the driver seat, ready for the long drive back home. 

She could overhear their goodbyes and that Natasha would visit soon to hear the full story. But still, Wanda stood paralyzed, unable to move. ‘What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if I was too mean to her?’ 

And as Y/n got into the car, waving her goodbyes, Wanda stood behind the tree, clutching on to the only thing she had of Y/n. Tears quietly fell down her cheeks, a lingering question on her mind. ‘Did I push you away when you needed me the most?’ 

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[h4ndwr1tten]

HI omg this has been eating away at me,, could i request an angsty (but with a happy ending) fic where the reader has been in love with kento ever since they were classmates at juju high and she always flirts with him but he rejects her every time up until the present day at shibuya where she saves his life by using a technique that gives him her life force and allows him to regenerate ig or take the blow of the hit and that leaves her on the brink kf death and kento realizes how much he's actually been in love with her the whole time and somehow she survives and he literally g r o v e l s and confesses and UGH this is too long i'm sorry but feel free to change some details to your convenience, TYSMM 🫶🫶🫶

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — i'm genuinely sorry i dont post requests on time :( anyways i didn't know how to end it so if i have time to i might rewrite it? i'm just trying to get this out bc i feel bad for leaving anon hanging.. (CORNY AHH TITLE)

cw — anxiousness, unrequited love (or so it seems) in the first half, violence kinda?, reader gets hurt and ends up in the hospital, kissing on the hand, confession ish, shitty ending might rewrite, not proofread. lmk if i missed any.

synopsis — you've gone through years and years confessing your feelings to kento, but this mission might be the scariest thing you've gone through. even for kento.

goosebumps covered your skin as worry churns in your stomach. on every other mission, you had felt worry and fear regarding the mission, but it was a normal thing that almost every other sorcerer experienced. those feelings, however, weren't the nagging, unrelenting ones you were feeling right now.

no, this was a gut feeling. of what, you couldn't decide. you knew it was a gut feeling because of the way it couldn't be diminished through encouragement and reassurance, and the way it came crawling back to you every time you were able to get your mind off of it. despite knowing you weren't going to be alone in this mission, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and fearful for not just yourself, but everyone involved as well.

especially kento.

kento was going on this mission, alongside a few other sorcerers, and the thought of going into this with you provided some solace for your troubles. you felt safe with him, you always have.

ever since your high school days as a student at jujutsu high, you've always been drawn to kento. he was one first friends there, and despite not being exactly best friends, you always cherished his company.

that is until a year later, you began seeing him in a different light, one that was more romantic than platonic. you started noticing the little details that made kento, kento. how he liked to keep his blond hair swept to his right. how he would subconsciously hum to himself when he was focused on something. how he always made room for something sweet after dinner. you began to crave his presence more than you usually did. you started seeking him out in classes and in crowds. you tried your best to impress him, whether it be working hard in class, giving your all during practice, or fighting hard on a mission. you even began flirting with him, starting off subtle before becoming more obvious. you did everything you could think of just so he could see you the way you saw him.

you remember the first time he rejected you. you remember how at first, you were in denial because you really thought you had a chance. you cried to shoko about it, and somehow satoru and suguru as well (they were eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation). then you cried more by yourself, eventually falling into a deep slumber after exhausting yourself.

~~~

"hi ken!" you greeted your friend, a little more eager than usual.

you were up last night, convincing yourself that it was time to confess your feelings and that he would feel the same, or at least give you a chance. you had been keeping your feelings to yourself for a little over a month now, and you felt like you couldn't wait any longer.

now here you were, standing in front of the teen you had a massive crush on, who was sitting on a bench under a tree, with a book in his hand and his favorite sandwich lying on the space next to him.

kento sent you a small smile in acknowledgement, before slightly scooting to the side as if to make room for you.

you blushed at the gesture then took a seat on the bench, watching kento as he flipped a page in his book.

"what're you reading?" you ask. to be honest, you weren't really interested in his book. you just wanted to start a conversation before confessing your feelings for him.

"a biography," he answered briefly.

"about who?"

"some warrior."

then, setting the book down, kento turned to you with a curious look on his face. "did you need something, y/n?"

his amber eyes found yours and a sudden wave of nerves came over you. where had your determination and confidence gone? your heart probably grabbed them both and chucked it out of your body and across the nation. then its beating increased, as if taunting you for being so confident.

"um," you started slowly, breaking the eye contact and looking down at your lap. "i... you..."

"take your time," kento hummed. was it obvious how anxious you became, or was he just that good at reading people?

you began fidgeting with the hem of your skirt while trying to find the right words. a simple 'i like you' wouldn't suffice, because what you felt seemed stronger than just a 'like'. this was so much easier in your head. with a deep breath to prepare you and shifting your gaze back to him, you finally spoke.

"nanamikentoihavefeelingsforyou."

"huh?"

"i have... feelings for you," you spoke more slowly this time.

his brow quirked up, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"i like you."

so much for not saying 'i like you'.

"oh."

oh? what oh? was that a good oh or a bad oh? you thought to yourself. kento grew silent and looked down at the grass, and his silence worsened your nerves. you were squeezing the end bit of your skirt now, while your mind was playing every other scenario you could have been in right now.

"kento?" his name leaving your mouth in a barely there whisper.

he turned back to you with pink cheeks and ears. you would've thought he was flattered if it wasn't for what he said next.

"i'm sorry, y/n. if you mean romantic feelings, and you like me in that sense, i don't feel the same way."

the whole world stopped. the distant chatter and bird calls faded into silence. the rise and fall of your chest paused as you felt yourself stop breathing. your cramped fingers finally stilled a against your skirt. your head kept replaying those words again and again, and your shattered heart dropped to your stomach, bringing a sick feeling with it.

"oh," you whispered. "i see."

you couldn't bare to be in this area anymore, or anywhere near kento. you were so sure that he'd at least want to see where things go with you. had you become so delusional and forgotten to think that being rejected was the other half of all possible outcomes?

a gentle hand then laid on your shoulder, while a face came into your peripherals. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing it would only bring you more shame.

"but we can still remain friends. it won't be awkward, to me at least," kento suggested politely and, what he might've thought, comfortingly.

but it only worsened your humiliation. he just had to use that term, that wretched word. as if his rejection wasn't enough, he really thought it was a good idea to say the damned f-word after confessing he didn't feel the same.

you knew kento only had good intentions in mind when he said it, and you understood that he never meant to hurt you with his words. but that simple sentence made it clear to you that that was all he saw you as.

a friend.

you could feel your throat closing up, your nose burning, and your eyes beginning to prick. kento already felt bad, it was clear, and you didn't want to make him feel worse. so you decided that it was time to leave, and maybe never leave your bed again.

"okay, well," you sniffed, wiping a stray tear and standing up, "thank you for being honest and telling me how you feel."

upon seeing your crestfallen face, kento frowned. "y/n, i'm sorry—"

"no, don't apologize. i understand," you smiled sadly.

after mumbling a broken and half-hearted 'have a wonderful evening', you left the bench under the tree and cried the rest of the day.

~~~

despite being rejected and so, so hurt, you quickly came to realize that your feelings weren't fading any time soon. they continued to linger, like someone who couldn't take a hint and conversing with another who just wanted to get through the day. you yourself got the hint, the message—kento didn't reciprocate your feelings. but your heart didn't quite get the memo, as it refused to let go of the man.

over time, your feelings grew stronger and so did the urge to confess once again. so you confessed, and once again, you were rejected. this time, however, you cried a little less. moved on a little quicker. and you tried again.

this grew into a cycle, an unhealthy one, for the rest of your high school years. it was predictable and pathetic, but with feelings for kento as strong as yours? you were determined to get him to see you as more than just his good friend, hell, to even go out on at least one date.

and now, present times, nothing had changed. you were still in love with nanami kento and he... well, he was still not in love. you were still confessing and he was still rejecting. you might've seemed desperate, but your feelings never went away and kento never ended his friendship with you, so it had to mean something. right?

right now, however, your feelings were the least of your worries. your brows were furrowed, your bottom lip was tucked in between your teeth, and you were wringing your wrists over and over. despite going on this mission with the man you trusted above all, you felt that things wouldn't turn out the way they should.

"are you alright, y/n?" kento quietly asked you, having noticed your silence and body language.

"hm? oh, yeah. i'm just," you paused, then whispered, "scared."

you felt kento's hand gently lay on your shoulder, feeling his eyes on your own as he spoke, "it's going to be okay. i'll be there with you the entire time, and i will do my best to keep you safe and unharmed."

smiling up at him, you nodded and thanked him. he nodded once back, then led you two out the door and onto the mission.

you could barely function at this point. your vision was clouded with dark fuzzy spots, you could barely move your sore and numb limbs, your ears were ringing as though an alarm were blaring in them. your head was throbbing as blood trickled down your face from the gash above your brow, and your heart was racing faster than it ever had before.

the mission had gone horribly wrong; the curse was far more dangerous and powerful than expected. it could birth weaker clones that were still enough to cause damage, and the only way to stop the multiplication was to eliminate the main curse.

which had set its dark, blood lusted eyes on you for the past half hour. and in that time, you felt your life flashing before your eyes. you didn't know where kento had gone—the last you saw of him was taking on an army of the multiples.

your delayed movements weren't helping much. all your energy had been depleted whilst trying to fight survive the curse, making it almost impossible to use your cursed technique. if you thought fighting was exhausting, then trying to stay conscious felt much worse.

as you tried (and failed) to focus on executing technique, the curse came out of nowhere and violently hurled you into a nearby destroyed building. you broke through the remains of a wall, the only thing breaking your fall being a mound of ash and dust. chunks of the wall surrounded you, while a larger portion lay on the rest of your body below your shoulders. .

"y/n!"

despite the ringing and your heart thrumming in your ears, you could hear his distant yell for you. he must have finally gotten rid of the multiples when the main was focused on you, or held them off long enough to find you. whatever he did, though, you couldn't focus on right now. all you could really think of was the excruciating pain and fear you were experiencing.

the impact from you hitting the wall had knocked the wind out of you and the wall fragment on your chest made things even worse. your lungs felt tight on the inside, while they were being crushed on the outside. you could barely get in any air, the most you could take in being a mere gasp. you were beginning to panic now. were you going to die? is this how you were going out, because you were unable to defeat a curse? where was kento?

you didn't realize it but tears had begun to fall from your eyes. a reaction caused by the emotions and physical pain you were overwhelmed with. you were scared, so fucking terrified to meet your inevitable end.

what you also didn't know was that kento was fighting his ass off trying to murder the curse. it felt a bit easier because of all the anger he was feeling towards the creature for absolutely wrecking you. all rationality left his body the moment he saw you be carelessly thrown like a rag doll, and now he found himself brutally attacking the curse with no remorse. even satoru was shocked at his behavior, as he thought this curse would need more than one person to defeat it.

it took a few minutes longer, but kento had defeated the curse. he had sliced up the lower body and saved the stupid, ugly head for last, cutting it in half through the eyes and another half through the side. and in exactly 5 seconds, the curse had let out a final whine before it's dismembered body and quartered head disintegrated into pools of foul-smelling acid, but kento could care less about it.

he sprinted to where you were laying, not caring that satoru was calling after him, not caring that civilians were hurt or scared. you were the only thing on his mind and his body burned with the sickening fear that you were—

no, he couldn't bare to think of it. you were strong, persistent, determined. you didn't give up that easily, he would know. kento knew you would put up a fight, and a good one at that, before you'd let death win over and welcome you. but the question was, how long did until that fight was over?

luckily enough, kento could see your dust-covered body underneath the rubble. your skin was losing its color quickly and he could see you trembling, hear you crying fearfully and painfully calling for help. he rushed to your side, immediately but gently lifting the broken debris off your frail body.

"k-kento," you wheezed, tears pouring out of your eyes and leaving trails through the dust. "i can't—i can't b-breathe, it.. hurts."

kento's hands were shaking violently, panic settling in and his mind wondering darker thoughts. with one hand, he gently cupped your face and looked into your glossy eyes.

"it's okay, y/n. everything will be okay, i'm going to get you out of here, and we'll get you help, i promise. just stay calm for me, okay?"

his reassurance was enough to quell the some of the anxiety gnawing at your insides. despite trembling badly, kento hastily continued to uncover your body from the wall. the larger piece took more effort, and though his hands were burning an angry red, kento continued to lift and push, then threw it somewhere away from you.

kento felt sick at the sight of your battered frame. your natural skin color was barely visible as bruises covered almost the entirety of your body. cuts and gashes so deep they would scar marked your torso, and blood was seeping out through them. he was a strong man who'd seen enough gore to make even the coldest people faint, but seeing you in this condition made his eyes sting and burn.

"kento," you sobbed, the pain becoming too much to bear.

not wasting anymore time, kento gently scooped you into his arms, but despite his best efforts, the winces and cries you let out let him know that even the slightest touch hurt like hell. he began to speed walk to satoru, yelling out for the man while trying not to bounce you too much.

his heart was racing faster than it ever had before. a kind of fear he had never felt was consuming him, tightening around his entire body and squeezing his lungs. he could barely breathe, barely think properly.

meanwhile, you could slowly feel yourself begin to drift out of consciousness. was this death opening its gates to you? welcoming you in the worst way possible, having the life leave your body in the arms of the man you were in love with? everything began to feel numb. you weren't crying anymore. you were feeling a little sleepy.

"y/n, don't you dare close your eyes!"

kento's loud and firm voice abruptly knocked some consciousness into you, keeping you awake for a little longer. he gave you a gentle squeeze on your arm, a whine escaping you at the ache.

"i'm so sorry, i don't want to hurt you. we're going to get you help, alright? satoru!"

you couldn't process what happened after that, as the ringing in your ears returned. your vision became fuzzy, but the last thing you remember was a mess of snowy hair, teary hazel eyes, and the world around you spinning.

you fell asleep.

the sound of steady beeps sounded throughout the area you were in. consciousness slowly making its way back into your body.

you were tired, so exhausted. you just wanted to sleep for a month, but as memories began to flood your mind, the desire to sleep seemed harder to achieve.

the last thing you recall happening was kento pulling you out of the remains of a building, carrying you bridal style away from where you had laid, and satoru placing a hand on both you and kento. anything after that, you had no recollection of.

the incessant beep coming from your left prompted you to open your eyes. you squinted right away, your pupils slowly adjusting to the change of brightness. above you were fluorescent lights and around you were clean, white walls. the room had little to no decoration or color and it felt sterile. physical feeling had come back to you, and you felt your body wrapped in thin sheets, laid on a firm mattress. tubes ran up and down your arms and you could feel them underneath the gown you found yourself in.

you hadn't taken too long to figure out that you were in a hospital room. what you didn't realize right away was the blond man sitting next to your bed, his head buried in one arm and the other holding your hand. he wasn't in his usual blue dress shirt and slacks. instead, he was in a plain black tee and sweats. you figured he must have changed during the time you were unconscious, which you still had yet to find out.

your mind was running slower than ever today, because it had just clicked that nanami kento was holding your hand. he was the last person you saw when you passed out and the first person you see when you awoke. had kento been here by your side the entire time?

wanting to see more of him, you shifted your weight onto your elbows, trying to prop yourself up and painfully failing. sharp stabbing-like sensation ran through your right shoulder, a burning one across your left arm, and your back felt stiff and extremely sore.

a loud wince involuntarily escaped your lips, tears rushing to your eyes at the overwhelming aches. immediately, kento woke and snapped his head, looking confused for a second, then realizing what was happening next.

"heyheyhey, y/n, don't move too much. you're still recovering, so just lie down, alright?"

he had stood from his seat and helped slowly lower your body back into the bed. he held you so firmly yet so gently as if not to hurt you or you'd break. he then pulled the thin sheets over your lap to keep you warm, then adjusted the bed so that you were slightly sitting up with support.

then, carefully cupping your face, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb, then lightly stroked across your cheek. his eyes were so full of concern as he scanned your entire face, as if making sure you were really here. the emotion radiating off of him and the way he held you with such delicacy made you feel so safe and cared for.

"how are you feeling?" kento whispered, brows slightly furrowed.

"it hurts," you whispered in response. a frown crossed kento's face and he genuinely looked so broken to know you were in great pain.

"i'm so, so sorry, y/n," kento apologized, breaking eye contact and bowing his head, almost shamefully. "i should have been there, by your side. i should've just let gojo take care of the clones, hell, the actual curse itself. i should have been there—"

"kento," you cut him off. you couldn't handle hearing him blame himself for your near-death experience. he couldn't have saved you while defending himself, and if there was a choice to be made, you would've rather he lived.

"please... don't think this was your fault," you requested, voice raspy from not talking and the incident. "it was not your fault the curse decided to come after me. it was not your fault i wasn't strong enough to fight it alone—"

"but that's the thing, y/n," kento argued. "you couldn't have taken that thing on alone. i should have been there to aid you and help take it down."

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you exhaled a laugh through your nose and joked, "what, you don't think i'm strong enough to fight a special-grade?"

kento gave you a pointed look, unamused at your quip. you smiled apologetically back before looking away from him, any trace of humor leaving your face.

"it's not that i don't think you're strong enough," he sighed. "i feel like i let you down."

"i should have stayed by your side. i shouldn't have let us get separated, i should have followed you, but i didn't. and now, look where we are."

he gestures to your frail figure, gently holding your arm and avoiding your eyes out of shame. boldly, you reached for his hand held it in both of yours, the action bringing his eyes to your own.

"kento, this wasn't your fault. i mean it. don't say anything of it again, or i'll purposely get your orders wrong when i'm bringing lunch. you were trying to save yourself, as was i. maybe i could have used some help, but that only means i need to improve my technique and combat. which also means, you could help me with that. maybe i could have died, but i'm here now, aren't i?" you rambled, not bothering to stop when kento opened his mouth to rebut. "let's not dwell on what's already happened and move forward, please?"

he fell silent, pressing his lips together in a thin line. it seemed as though there was more he wanted to say, and you knew there was, but this conversation would never end—he wouldn't be relieved of his guilt.

a sigh passed through kento's lips, more pigmented after pressing them together tightly. he nodded and as he rubbed gentle circles onto the top of your hand, he whispered an agreement.

you smiled at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him. kento kept wordless for another minute, head hung low and eyes shut. it was visible to anyone that his guilt was swallowing him whole, but he was fighting it for you. he covered your hand with his other, both hands now encasing your own. taking you by surprise, kento brought your hand up to his lips and placed the gentlest lingering kiss atop the skin. his lips, so soft and so warm, left a light buzz on the spot they laid on, and one throughout your body.

"when everything gets cleared up—your health, the reports—i'm taking you out."

what?

"seeing you hurt and in this state made me come to my senses. it confirmed something i had held back for so long, and made me realize that i can't wait."

"kento... what are you saying?" you mumbled slowly, confusion evident in every word.

he sighs, treading carefully. it's clear he's figuring out the right words to say, how to express how he's feeling.

"i'm saying that... in our line of work, developing close bonds with people can be dangerous. we can never be too sure, we can never be too close to someone because in the blink of an eye, it might be gone. what we do is dangerous. but, i think that not taking a chance is even more dangerous."

he sighs shakily, "and i am guilty of not realizing this sooner. but fate seems to be on my side, because even if i don't take them, chances keep coming back to me. and i think now, i'm ready to take it."

kento kisses your hand and brings his eyes to yours, finally declaring,

"i'm ready to take this chance with you."

and you smile, nodding as fireworks go off throughout your being.

after all these years, he finally likes you back.

note — sorry for the corny ending, i just needed to get the request done 😭 and sincerest apologized to the anon who requested, i really have no excuse other than writers block and busy schedules :(

m. list

[shuaraes]

we shouldn’t have ended like this | x.mh

- leave your message after the beep

oneshot | 1.3k | exes! au | angst

it’s three am and xu minghao has never felt more lonely in life. drunk on melancholy and emptiness, he ruminates on your relationship and regrets the way you both had ended. even though it’s late at night, minghao tries to rewrite his wrongdoings because deep down he knows a part of you still loves him.

~ paring . xu minghao x gender-neutral!reader

~ content . exes (to lovers???)! au, non idol! au, miscommunication- no even lack of communication,

~ tw . mentions of alcohol, vague mentions of sex

~ song rec . only ones we know - arctic monkeys

~ author’s note . the idea for this was adapted from some of my poetry. my prose is still a bit rusty but i hope this is decent enough! happy christmas to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t hope you have a great day, happy reading! 🫶

MINGHAO’S BED IS EMPTY.

It has been for the past year, yet he can’t wrap his head around it. He lies down on the navy sheets of his queen-sized bed and reaches out to the other side. For some reason he expects it to be warm to the touch: he is met with only coolness. Not cool in the way a sip of water after a mint is or the rush of the winter wind not blocked by fabric. The coolness is like a ghost: the phantom of you that haunts every part of his dwelling.

The walls mourn for your presence, whispering your name, muted pleas into Minghao’s ear. Your name creeps up on him when he least expects it, after the two month-mark, he gave up trying to push you out. ‘It shouldn’t have ended like this,’ the walls call out to him. ‘We shouldn’t have ended like this,’ your last words to him. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

If Minghao squints hard enough, he can still see the imprint of your body, the permanent dent in the mattress where you used to lie. Minghao tries to pretend that just minutes ago, you were engulfed in his sheets, him engulfed in you. He waits for you to fill the dent in the mattress, to mend the hole in his heart.

But you don’t come. And he is alone.

Minghao turns over to face the celling, his jet-black hair falling on his pillow around his head like a halo. His fan spins like a vinyl on a record player from the 60’s. In his head, it’s playing your favourite song. He hums along to the lyrics, you always said he had a good singing voice. This thought almost breaks him.

You broke up with Minghao because you thought you could not love him enough, not knowing your mere presence was more than enough for him. If you were a baby flame, he was a pyromaniac, hand outstretched ready to be burnt. But when it got hard you pushed him away to protect his own feelings, so he became distant and pushed you out. It came to a point where Minghao felt it was like living with a stranger.

When you proposed a breakup, Minghao wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t act like he was either. He stayed deathly silent as you spoke, staring into his mug of tea that had long gone cold. “Fine.” He said as he looked into brown void of his cup (if he looked you in the eye, he would have broke). But with your closing words he knew it was a mistake, you still loved him (he will forever love you). It shouldn’t have ended like this, yet Minghao did nothing to prevent it.

Even after a year, Minghao wonders why he didn’t fight harder. Maybe it’s because, subconsciously, he knew you were too good for him. You deserved someone less cowardly, someone who would never let you go like a children’s balloon, would never let you go so easily. Yet nothing can stop the green-eyed monster of jealousy, waltzing around in her emerald ball gown whenever he hears about you with someone else. Your shared friends give him updates on how you’re doing, but when someone else is mentioned romantically, he shuts out. Trying to piece together why it wasn’t him instead.

Selfishness is a sin - he knows that - but he can’t help from wanting you all to himself. So, he tries to have you in any way he can. He sleeps with your favourite blanket, he washes his clothes with your favourite brand of detergent and in the winter, by the heater, he warms a pair of your house slippers that you never remembered to collect. He searches for you in the bodies of others, the dips in their collarbones and curves of their spines, but of course they cannot compare to you. No one does. If these hook ups amounted to even 1% of what Minghao feels for you, then he wouldn’t complain. But they don’t.

Minghao misses you.

In life, Minghao believes that people only get one chance at true love. He’s scared that he’s used all his luck up on you.

The loss of you gnaws away at him. It wains away at his resolve and destroys any hope for a life away from you. A slow dull pain, it was always in the back of his mind: inescapable though manageable. Minghao didn’t know what was different about tonight, but all he knows is that he has never felt the same about anyone else.

The past kills him. It strangles him, leaving him paralysed with no choice but to face his mistakes. His love for you kills him inside out. It eats away at his psyche until all that is left of him are his feelings for you. It’s three am and all that remains of him is you.

It has always been you.

Fuck it, he picks up his phone off his nightstand and dials your number. Minghao knows he’s not thinking straight, but if he doesn’t at least try to reach you, he will resent himself until the day he dies. The line starts to ring and Minghao holds the phone to his ear with bated breath and clammy hands. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears pounding like a wooden mallet while he waited.

After what felt like eons, the line goes to voicemail. Of course, it did, it’s three am. Minghao feels stupid for thinking you’d pick up. The automated voice reads out the predetermined script to tell him that you can’t answer the phone the right now. It then asks to leave a message if desired. Minghao knows he shouldn’t, he doesn’t care, he loves you.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Hey, it’s Minghao” his voice wavers, it’s obvious he’s nervous. “Call me when you get this.”

Minghao presses the keypad to end the voice message, yet he feels empty. This isn’t closure, this isn’t what he needs. With this alone, in the morning, you’ll probably delete the message and go on with your life.

Minghao is tired of pretending to be rational, hiding his feelings behind a masquerade of poise and nonchalance. He’s going insane because of you, and he needs to let you know, you need to know how much he loves you.

He left another voicemail.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Y/N, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you. A year of no contact and you get a call from me out of the blue, but for once I’m begging, give me a chance. Listen, I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we first met, since the day we broke up and i think i’m going to love you every day until I die. I don’t think i let it show but you were my endgame, after you i don’t want to love anyone else,”

Minghao could feel himself rambling, his words tumbling from his lips uncontrollably. His heart is a spilled glass of milk, all his soul on display for your critique. He wants to stop himself from speaking but he can’t, so he continues,

“Letting you go so easily was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve fought for you, and I know it may be too late but I’m doing it now.

Tomorrow let me take you out to dinner, we can dress up nice and get drunk off our heads. Then I’ll order us a taxi back to yours or mine I don’t mind, then we’ll slow dance to that one jazz album you like, and I’ll promise to never push you away. Things won’t be perfect, and we both have a lot to work on, but I don’t care. Everything is perfect enough for me as long as you're by my side. And before you say I’m drunk, trust me I’m not, I’m a bit sleepy but that doesn’t change a thing. I love you so much Y/N.”

Minghao cuts the phone down and the screen fades to his lock screen, a candid photo of you from a year ago that he refused to change. He places his phone on his heart (your home) and falls asleep waiting for it to ring.

[holdmytesseract]

For the drabble/blurb request

Character: magnus

Prompt: "you're ruling the way that I move and I breathe your air, you only can rescue me" from a song called cherish the day by Sade 🙂

Unfixable

Warnings: this got quite sad... 👀 angst, mentions of breakup, sad Magnus hours

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for the request! I really hope you like this lil' blurb! Kudos to @muddyorbsblr , who helped me along a bit! 🤗

He waited in the shadows of the building across from the house you lived in; too afraid to confront you right away. He hadn't gathered enough strength yet. And besides, he didn't want to scare you. So, he waited in the pouring rain until the light in your apartment flickered to life.

Magnus could already feel the rain soaking through his thin jacket, when he carefully crossed the quiet road.

Taking a deep breath, the young policeman entered the building, took the stairs which led to the second floor and came to stand in front of your door. For a good moment, Magnus just stared at the silvery doorknob; hesitating.

Should he knock? Should he just leave again?

He was on the verge of just leaving again, when somewhere from deep within his subconscious echoed a voice; urging him on to just knock. Man up, Martinsson. Just do it!

Before he was able to think twice about it, a shaking hand raised to knock against the door. Magnus' knuckles kissed the wooden surface and in that moment he knew it was too late to back down. His brain was too caught up with panicking - and therefore he didn't even notice how the door swung open. Only the sweet, angelic sound of your voice caused the warning bells in his head to fall silent.

"Magnus?"

He was very sure that at the call of his name, his heart jump over the cliff; free-falling and landing somewhere on cloud nine.

"What... What are you doing here?"

The blond haired man needed a moment to get a grip again. Puppy dog baby blue eyes met yours. "I-I..." Magnus started to stammer; fumbling with his hands nervously. "I'm sorry for just... barging in, but..." He sighed. "I can't forget you, Y/N. I know I screwed up big time, but please... I beg you... Please give me another chance."

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Magnus... We talked this over so many times... I told you I can't do this a second time." Magnus squeezed his eyes shut; shaking his head. "I know, Y/N, but... You don't understand, I- Since months I feel lost. Falling down an endless abyss and you are the only one who can rescue me. I... I still love you."

His words hit you hard. You couldn't deny that they still sent a shiver down your spine, but- No... You reminded yourself. Not a second time.

"No, Magnus. I feel flattered, but we can't fix this. I'm sorry."

His heart broke right in front of you. You saw it - and it hurt you to the core. But you couldn't change the past or rewrite the future.

Carefully, you took his way too big hand in his and squeezed in a reassuring, apologising manner. "I'm sorry..." You whispered - and let go; your hand leaving his forever.

And before the pain could get unbearable, you took a step back and closed the door shut in front of Magnus.

You didn't see how the young man fought hard to hold back his tears - in vain. Or how his knees started to buckle; almost failing him as he found himself staring at the closed door once more. A door which would stay locked for him; not opening again.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @crimson25 @brokenpoetliz @cakesandtom @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @mandywholock1980 @lokidbadguy @smolvenger @vbecker10

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

All About Katy

Hello loves, checking in for the first time in a while. New pinned post here we go. I'm not saying I'm fully back but I'm popping in here and there, writing a bit on the side (which is hard because applause keeps me alive but I'm not planning on posting things until they are done anymore. I hate being the forever-WIP person).

Life is fine as it can be atm, I'm currently tumbling through a few new fandoms and touching base with some old ones. Projects are in the works across about four different fandoms, don't ask me how it's just how my brain works. But I miss talking with people who get my brand of crazy and love to day dream details and scenarios, so if anything strikes your fancy my ask box is once again open. Come talk to me, I've missed you. 💕 My brain is bursting with ideas, so feel free to talk to me about whatever, even if the fandom isn't listed. I've done a lot of media consuming lately so there's a high chance I've watched/read/done a lot of ao3 searches about it.

If anyone is still here keeping tabs on me, thank you for your devotion and patience. Much love to you dears <3

~*~

This is a Multi-Fandom blog. Below are current projects and side-blogs that are active for me as of Autumn 2024:

Jujutsu Kaisen: (Side Blog: @katytheinspiredjjkblog ) Current Projects: But Make It Slow Burn (ItaFushi Angsty Rewrite/Fix-it), Fine Dining AU, brainstorming others...

Stranger Things: (no side blog, most posts are here) Current Projects: Dreamwalker/Subconscious Steddie Fix-it AU

BTS: (Side Blog: @thebtsrabbithole) Current Projects: BTS Westworld AU

Criminal Minds: Masterlist. Current Projects: HotchReid Dark AU, Correspondence Sequel (on temp hiatus)

Original Work: (no side blog atm) Current Projects: Artistic Gays Do Artistic Crimes (og novel in the works)

You can find me also on: ao3, Instagram (art only), pinterest, spotify

~*~

My old pinned post that had all my info about me, if anyone needs it.

[anemoiashifts]

why you should do your own research.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

“you have to drink water.”

“you have to affirm through the day.”

“you have to think positive.”

“you have to lay in starfish position.”

“you cannot move.”

“you have to finish your homework.”

“you have to clean your room.”

you don’t have to do anything to shift or manifest. while these may be helpful for some people & can make certain people feel more “likely” to shift to their desired reality by cutting out distractions or “to-do lists”, there is no shifting step by step guide.

♡ why this is important ?

when learning, once you’ve learned something “wrong” it’s hard to unlearn incorrect practice & rewrite what you know to be true / false. those “wrong” thoughts can become a subconscious belief & you may not realize how these thoughts can hold you back.

if you have questions, don’t press that tiktok search ! don’t let someone tell you something. it’s 10x more satisfying & motivating to come across something on your own — outside of tiktok — because that was you putting action into your manifestations. it wasn’t someone else having an influence on your journey, it was you consciously searching for something & having it resonate & not having the algorithm feed something to you. it all comes down to choice & feeding your own curiosity.

♡ doing your own research vs validating predetermined belies.

if you’ve heard someone on tiktok that you now believe, will probably go looking for information that supports your existing thoughts — maybe even if you think it’s wrong. lead with an unbiased & open mind. you can learn a lot “from the other side”. when i say research i mean documents, studies, professional experiments that have been conducted, not random people on reddit , tumblr or tiktok. while these can be helpful, a lot of these are parroting others that may not be 100% true , thus breeding misinformation. you have to be very careful on who you can trust & believe. im specifically speaking to shiftok because — let’s face it — money can be made. if a more “validating & exciting” argument can be made for it that people want to hear, it will acquire more revenue. im not staying making money is bad, just be aware of that kind of stuff. people can twist words & leave out critical information to fit a narrative. it’s better to go straight to the study / source. it’s just more satisfying to see an article from 1988 proving your suspicions then a random girl on your fyp, you know ?

ps. i want to note science cannot prove everything as the term “shifting” — when it comes to what you may believe shifting to be — is a relatively new term from what I’ve seen. but !! it helps definitively when you have your beliefs backed by something. having that little bit of “proof”, that validation, can do wonders for some people. okay ! bye ! 🤍

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

[randomfox12245]

What is your idea for Belle? I didn't understand It in the last post

Basically would wanna take this idea that the comic established, that Belle is technically a badnik having been built by Eggman, and actually fucking do something with it. As opposed to the Nothing that the comic did with it.

Such an interesting idea. That actually doesn't make any sense within the context of the comics own internal logic lol. Like, Mister Tinker is the one who built Belle. Out of wood. What POSSIBLE internal mechanism could Belle conceivably have that would make her susceptible WHATSOEVER to a universal badnik summoning signal sent out by Eggman? This is, like, borderline a plot hole in the comic As Written.

But by my idea, it follows from how I'd personally rewrite Mister Tinker. I always liked the idea of Tinker trying to sincerely help and make useful things, but he either fails and makes things worse on accident, builds dangerous or harmful things out of instinct, or if he succeeds and makes something that people enjoy he realizes it gives him zero satisfaction or happiness whatsoever. He just feels hollow. Doing nice things and helping others not only doesn't come naturally to him, once he's able to actually successfully do it it doesn't even feel good. He realizes that he only felt compelled to try and do it because it's what he's "supposed" to do, and not because it's what he actually WANTED to do.

Tinker's story would have been a lot more interesting if Sonic was like "this is a disaster waiting to happen =| " and was NEVER cool with leaving him in the village. And it was the goat dude who was trying to convince him "no dude, this proves he can change =D "and Sonic is like "if he got turned INTO this then he can turn back FROM this. I know Eggman. This WILL go bad." and it gets passed off like he's getting a lesson in learning how to trust and the power of redemption

only for Eggman to eventually come back, he betrays windmill village, and Sonic has a grim little "i told you so" moment. That would have been more in character, AND it would have been edgy grimdark bullshit which the comic is in love with -.- And Eggman maybe could have used that against Sonic later. Gaslight him by beinglike "well hey, maybe if YOU believed in Mr Tinker and trusted him, maybe I never would have come back >=P " monday morning quarterbacking I know.

Anyway, following up from that idea, Tinker would have created Belle but would have subconsciously designed her as a Badnik. EXPLICITLY STATING that Tinker built Belle the same way Eggman builds Badniks, with the same programming and same materials and same external radio frequency receivers that synchronizes her to what the comic describes as the "Eggnet." (No, this is NOT explicitly stated in the comic, it legitimately doesn't make any fucking sense why Tinker would have made her as a "badnik" even if she was made from badnik parts internally). She would mostly be exactly the same in terms of her little Pinocchio backstory

but once Tinker goes back to being Eggman, she would still be receptive to his direct commands and the command signals sent out en mass across the Eggnet to all active Badniks. So a combination of sudden exile from the only community she ever knew and the robot equivalent of schizophrenia where she's hearing Eggmans voice in her head telling her to do Badnik stuff would have driven her to hiding away inside of one of Eggmans bases and going a little loony for a while due to the isolation.

So when Sonic and Tails meet her it would make MARGINALLY more sense why he reacted to her this way if she was initially hostile. She would be recognizable AS a badnik and initially be acting like one.

Once Sonic decks her hard in the fucking face, it knocks the internal radio antenna keying her into the eggnet loose which allows Belle's "the daughter of mister Tinker" personality to come to the surface. And Sonic would recognize that she's not only no longer hostile but is an innocent, and offer to bring her along out of this dingy ass Eggman base so they can help her find her dad or whatever her stupid deal was at first.

Tails opens her up and repairs her from any damage Sonic caused during their initial meeting, reconnecting her radio receptors and putting her back online in the Eggnet. Which Eggman would take notice of and investigate, discovering Belle's existence and her connection to his network as a Badnik. Providing him a Manchurian agent in Sonic's friend group! So he would be able to implant suggestions in her subconscious or in opportune moments send her direct commands to commit sabotage or subterfuge which she would be powerless to act against. At first she would just Lose Time during these periods of Eggman control, of Eggman puppetting her, and she'd be just as ignorant of her actions during that time as anyone else.

But over time Eggman would become more bold or more careless in taking control of her directly, and she would start becoming aware of it happening. Becoming a passenger in her own body, watching through her own eyes as she's forced to move and act out what Eggman wants her to do, unable to stop herself. And once the control is relinquished she would be too scared of being exiled again or even being destroyed outright by Sonic's friend group to admit to anybody what she now knows is happening to her.

Basically just completely ripping off the Boomer story from Battlestar Galactica lol

I'm also a complete hack because the whole Eggman double agent thing is also my rewrite fix for Lanolin x3

[hottakehoulihan]

This is a rant/musing/meandering about Worm fans WRT Wildbow. I think it's time I at least once made myself an unsubtly dissenting voice, since silence indicates agreement to so many. Move on if you like. This is probably mostly for me.

I'm white, from the USA, grew up with thrift store clothes and scavenged pencils but got to visit the dentist when needed, and was raised in the same ethnocentric, homophobic, fatphobic, ableist, Puritan-influenced culture that most of us were. I try to routinely examine and correct my biases and blind spots. I am trying to see what I might be missing, with as open a mind as I can manage.

I reread Worm (fourth readthrough, but my retention is meh) these last few months actually looking for any evidence at all I could find of the various phobias (all of them, it seems, and also the vaunted hates-drug-users) that some folk like to assert Wildbow has. I didn't find much that didn't--IMHO--more closely fit an accurate description of how the characters (including Taylor, who is literally a child that grew up in an even less-enlightened environment than most of us) are biased. This, coupled with an unfortunate shortsightedness of methodology (do NOT use dice when you write your story. It seems like a good idea to naive youth, but We Do Not Live in a world where you can just let RNG dictate that your [insert bad thing] is committed by [insert group that is already stereotyped as doing that bad thing]. (Though sometimes that's gonna happen in real life too, and art depicting things that happen in real life is Not Always Bad you just have to be careful about context and tone.) Also, try not to accidentally/subconsciously follow Hayes code-influenced patterns. ...though that's hard to do when you're making almost EVERY character a morally grey one) is all the support I see.

Whew, that was a weird parenthetical juxtaposition. Should I rewrite? Nah; it's already taking too much time.

Seriously, how many actually 100% goodguy fleshed characters does Worm have? Arguably zero. Even Yamada and Legend, by dint of having to work within the confines of their structures, made concessions to evils. Dinah made her ruthless calculus decisions just as Cauldron did. Taylor's famously grey self-justifications were agonized over no more or less than Parian's. A perfect character would be a blemish, arguably. (I'll just take Amy as my woobie; after more than a dozen years of emotional abuse and neglect by her kidnappers, she deserves a bit of consideration and rehabilitation.)

And just like I'm willing to assume that Gregor's somehow flawed, like he offscreen asserted that there are acceptable civilian losses when you're doing crimes or assaulting Cauldrons, and that's clearly bullshit because there's no actual evidence Gregor is anything less than perfect but it's easier to assume evils (and more fun to talk shit) than not, I figure a bunch of folk are trying to fit in by agreeing and priming their confirmation biases accordingly.

And this is without, even, considering the millions of other words in non-Worm stuff. You're gonna read Pale and tell me this same junk?

...though, well, perhaps my cutie Biscuit, and a thing Louise said about addicts essentially vanishing from the lives of their loved ones, might count as being against habitual recreational narcotic use. I'll think about that over my next bottle of wine.

I like reading light novels, and fluffy fanfics, and similar, even though usually the characters involved seldom have what you might call facets. When the retired orc warrior who started a gnomish coffeeshop moves on to her next volume, I'm there, and I don't care if I never find out that she once had to choose between leaving baby goblins to die in a fire or saving a teammate from a spike trap.

I've read so many stories where there's no such thing as an 'ism', or rather there's just no example of representation, because every character is two steps away from being an AFGNCAAP (Ageless, Faceless, Gender-Neutral, Culturally-Ambiguous Adventure Person)

I think Wildbow is serious about trying to always be a better writer in the approaching-MFA sense. I see efforts to portray believable behavior of real "human" (whether human or not) characters from multiple backgrounds, in a world that scans as plausibly diverged from the same sort of ugly we live in today.

I do not see any more latent phobias of any sort than I see in pretty much anything else available to read, from fanfic to bestseller lists to "new favorites" lists at the local library. In fact, I see markedly less, to include some (fuck 'em) commenters complaining about shoehorned-in wokeness.

It's weird to me that, given the body of work and the literal black-and-white facts about who and what exist within, and the extra time and effort the author made and makes (too much, IMO) generously engaging with the fans, the default is to diss the author for not doing even more. In their first work. Of which half the concept and much of the worldbuilding dated from grade-school practice. And it's still great.

And I'm saying this about a story where a significant number of the villains are literally white male nazis, torturemurderers, and literally inhuman terrorists. You wouldn't expect people to be demanding a lot of nuance if you were an outsider to this story. But Worm delivers, IMO.

This is not in response to anything recent; I've been chewing on this for years prior to even joining tumblr or creating this username.

tl;dr: Are you sure you're not talking shit about Wildbow just to fit in with the other cool snarksters and feel cool and cynical and superior? Instead of sincere? Because I went looking, and, respectfully, I think you're wrong. And it's a bit ugly and sad.

[autumnslance]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cricketnationrise]

For the followers' fic fest!

6:58 AM, Kensington Palace, Philip Fox-Mountchristen Windsor. I'm not sure about the song but I'm thinking Are You Bored Yet? by Wallow ft. Clairo for the vibes so feel free to use it! (You don't have to tho /gen)

Another first for me, Philip POV! I hadn't heard the song before this ask, but it's going into regular rotation now! Anyway, I hope you like your ficlet! 💜🦗

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

6:58am, kensington

“Mmm…Ph'lip? Why’re you already awake?”

Martha blinks blearily at him from where she’s half-sprawled on his chest. Bollocks. All his shifting around must have woken her up. Philip sighs, puts on half a mask of normalcy.

“No reason. Go back to sleep, darling.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We don’t have to be up for another hour.”

“No, I’m awake enough. Come now, what’s wrong? You’re never up this far before your alarm.”

“Nothing.”

“Pish posh.”

“Martha.”

“I’m still half asleep, but I know utter rot when I hear it. Now spill.”

“I don't have an answer—” 

Martha starts to push upright. “Philip, I swear to—”

“Well, not one I can give you,” he admits. 

“How come?” 

And the truth is that the thing that’s bothering him, that has kept him up all night, it’s so big he can’t even look at it head on; has to resort to sideways glances. The whole is too overwhelming. But Martha makes everything better—everything. So maybe, a moment of bravery on his part will let her soothe this hurt, this howling thing inside him, as well. He takes a deep breath and exhales hard before speaking.

“The man that—the one that slept with H-henry. When he was underage.”

“From his letters?” Martha’s always been quick on the uptake, always willing to follow his wandering thoughts.

He nods. “I can’t get that line out of my head. It seems such a small detail, almost casual for Henry, but for me—”

“It rewrites a large part of your worldview.”

“Yes.”

There’s a long silence as they both sit with that idea. Martha plays with the buttons on his pajama top. Philip takes the back of her collar between his fingers, rubbing the soft neckline like a worry stone.

“Martha?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think it was one of my friends?” He has no reason to doubt Henry’s words, just a desperate desire to have not contributed, even in passing, to his brother’s suffering.

“Truthfully?”

“Yes, please. If you tell me the truth I won't have to lie to myself anymore.”

“I think you already know the answer, love,” she says gently.

“Martha, please.” The just tell me doesn’t need to be spoken for her to understand. 

“Yes, Philip. I think it's true.”

For all he’d known, for all he’d been subconsciously bracing himself for the words, Martha’s confirmation is sharp pain, a cold knife in the pit of his stomach. Philip can’t quite keep the wet, shaky breath from escaping his throat.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright.”

In a heartbeat, Martha’s sitting upright and pulling Philip into her lap, combing her fingers through his hair as he fights to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m fine.”

Martha snorts softly. “I’ve known you how long now? I can see you aren’t fine.”

“I can't—”

“Just tell me how you’re feeling. We’re all alone, no one to interrupt or pull you into meetings for at least forty minutes. So just tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help get through this. You’ve been holding it all together for so long. You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”

“Martha, I—”

“Let me in, Pippy.” He’s so caught in the storm of his feelings that Philip can’t even muster the customary glare at the heinous nickname.

“I just. I feel so lost. Unmoored. There’s so much I don't know about my own brother. I don’t know what happens now. What happens next.” 

“You don't have to have all the answers, love.”

“I just don't know where we’re going.”

She brushes his bangs back from his forehead. “That's alright.”

“Its not—”

“It is. You’re not as alone as you think you are. If you’d let me, I’d like to be right next to you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And Philip—

Philip believes her.

[redd956]

Imposter Syndrome & Writing

Oh that pesky imposter syndrome! Many of us know her whether we like it or not. Although I don’t have as bad anxiety as others do in this regard, imposter syndrome can try to come for us all, and hits a lot of us creative types the hardest. I know some nights it hits me too, and I completely forget about all my favorite work, and fixate on my worst.

Have you heard your inner speech say any of this:

“My writing just isn’t good enough for others to enjoy”

“Why isn’t my online activity as good as others?”

“Oh they’re better than me...and younger...”

“I or my writing isn’t interesting enough”

Well I have news for you that was likely imposter syndrome speaking, or anxiety, or depression or- You get the point.

Overcoming & Lowering Writing Anxiety

Kicking imposter syndrome to the curb isn’t easy, and it isn’t really permanent either. We as humans have a hard time with comparing everything to everything, and that includes ourselves to other writers. Which is the primary problem. Here’s some popular tactics to help tackle anxiety and self doubt in writing.

What’s a real writer?

Gatekeeping is a problem among all groups of creatives. For awhile growing up I most saw it as digital artist “aren’t” the real artist. Writers struggle with gatekeeping in the community frequently too. This has become so prevalent some have taken the negative voices of gatekeeping and subconsciously ingrained it into themselves. 

So let I remind you, you are a writer if you

Write

Don’t Write but want to

Are trying to write

Create stories

It doesn't really matter what you write, you’re a writer if you have the will to be. Telling yourself and acknowledging that what you write doesn’t devolve you as a writer is a tremendous first step.

You’re not alone

As said before creatives of all types, including hundreds of writers are suffering from imposter syndrome. It’s valid to feel such a way, and acknowledging those feelings can also help. Don’t oversaturate yourself though. Even best-selling authors experience imposter syndrome, or get discourage by comparing themselves to fellow writers. You can not turn into another writer, because you will always be yourself as a writer.

What you’ve done up til now/Perfectionism

Often times in the boughs of imposter syndrome people become blind to their hard work, or begin to feel like everything they’ve done up til now is pointless. Which completely negates that others better or on their level have gone through most if not all of the same hard work.

All because we aren’t the best all the time doesn’t mean our hard work and talent is invalid. Seeking perfection is impossible. Every good artist has thousands of throw aways, deletes, messed up layers, balled up paper, and more. The same goes for writers. I even frequently post my bad, as it forces me to accept that I’ve created it and it’s a thing.

My bad doesn’t invalidate my good. Just like how you on your bad days doesn’t define your entire personality. To accept the bad in creativity is important, and I greatly suggest keeping all your ideas now matter how trash. You might find your future skills or mentality will be ready to take it all on again in the future.

One way I’ve done this, and a popular writing hack at that is to keep a writing journal and refuse to delete half-written or poorly written pieces. Editing and rewriting is okay as long as you don’t over do it, and find yourself rewriting the same thing over and over again. It will never be perfect, and accepting that is one of the most helpful things we as writers can do.

[camlannpod]

hi I’m the person who asked about character creation advice in the listen along stream. My internet went funny so sorry I couldn’t specify on stream!

I meant characters in general! I really want to get into writing stories (books, podcasts, film, I haven’t really decided yet) but I’m struggling a bit with fleshing out my characters and I often feel like they’re all kind of the same person.

I really love the characters in Camlann so advice would be great!

Hi hello! Thank you so much for joining us for the stream, I'm sorry for your internet difficulties!!

Hm, this is an interesting and tricky question which I want to preface with a quick disclaimer:

Everyone writes differently. There's no one correct way to write, and whilst there are tool sthat you can use for writing - just like there are tools in visual art and music, learning which tools you want to use and how you want to use them is, I think, a big part of learning how to write well and in a way that's enjoyable for you.

This said! People often make jokes / comments about 'plotters vs pantsers' or 'architects vs gardeners'. A lot of writers fall into one of two categories - meticulously plotting detail before writing, or just kind of going with the flow. I personally am very much in the latter category, so I'm afraid I don't have a lot of specific tools or exercises I can give you.

This said, I'm going to do my best. Ursula K Le Guin is, in my opinion, one of the best writers of the 20th century, and she writes a lot of wonderful essays about the imagination and writing which I find really inspiring. I'm paraphrasing because I can't find the quote, but she once said something along the lines of: "If I can't close my eyes and have a conversation with a character, then I'm not ready to write their story yet."

That's a lot how I feel about writing characters. Some of it is conscious. I identify traits - flaws, strengths, quirks - in myself and others, and I give them to my characters. Dai is hyperactive and excitable because I'm hyperactive and excitable. Perry infodumps because I infodump. Morgan is stressed and protective because I am both of those things. But they also all have elements I don't have - Morgan is a lot more understated and pragmatic than I am. Dai is much more confident and reckless. Perry is significantly more organised and self-disciplined.

As a rule, I personally find it best to avoid ever trying to write 1 for 1 either yourself or a friend into a character. That way lies hurt feelings and honestly an inability to see them clearly, because it's very hard to see yourself objectively. Instead, I think of it like putting puzzle pieces together, or a patchwork quilt, or planting seeds. People often say good writers are good eavesdroppers. Phrases that people say on the tram stick with me. Strangers in shops. People dancing. Expressions and ways of speaking that filter through to characters I write.

Once I've identified a small handful of key pieces, I leave them to grow in my subconscious. This normally takes a few months. It's like...moulding a piece of wet clay for a few hours - ok, I don't want them to be X, I do need them to do Y - and once you've got roughly what you want in the right places, putting it in the kiln that is your mind and letting it cook. I just...think about my characters a lot - daydream about them, imagine them in different situations etc. Once I feel they've had enough time to settle, I start writing.

I honestly find one of the best ways to get to know a character is just writing them. For me that always feels like a conversation. And not just writing - editing and rewriting and rewriting - learning what they would or wouldn't say, thinking about how they'd react in different situations etc. There are...minimum 7 drafts of the Camlann scripts? I got to know the gang better just because I spent a lot of time with them.

Finally, for audio specifically, always always read your scripts aloud! If you can, rope in a friend or two. The way people speak out loud and the way they speak in our heads when we're reading is very different. Something that's incredibly moving in prose can feel awkward and stilted in audio. So read it out loud - start getting a sense of your character's vernacular. Do they say 'don't' or 'do not'? Do they swear? Do they use slang? Are they flirty, shy? I always find that my characters start coming to life when I can hear their voices. If I can hear them speaking to me, they're ready to be written.

This is all a little wibbly wobbly, and very personal to me, but I hope it at least helps you think about how you want to write. Good luck, and have fun!

[hawkogurl]

i love your corpse harry au (& what i've read of your other spider-man stuff), especially the way you write harry. i'm pretty new to writing and was hoping you'd have some advice on getting a good handle on a character's motivation/voice

idk if you take these kind of questions so if not: favorite trope that gets a lot of hate & least favorite trope that gets a lot of love? thx

Thanks for sending! I love to talk.

As for the first part? That’s hard. I think my writing style leans more introspective, so it can kind of vary based on what you’re going for. Because I tend to think about these movies very specifically, I found how I write about characters on my personal analysis, look deeper than the surface. Hell, take notes on shit. I also recommend the novelizations for learning how characters tic. Especially for characters other than Peter, you get a lot more about how they think because you actually spend more time in their heads and you get more of a look into their thought process and what effects how they act. The novels are good. Read them in general. I have files available on request because they slap.

But honestly? Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect. Especially if you’re new to it, make sure you’re having fun above everything. I personally tend to obsess over the mechanics of storytelling and character analysis, sure, but that’s what I find enjoyable. If doing the same makes you like something less, don’t! Especially when you’re starting out, I also think it’s more beneficial to work out more of the mechanics of writing itself. At the same time you learn characterization, learn how to vary sentence structure, to write engaging and descriptive prose without it feeling suffocating, find your personal style. And don’t expect it to be fast. The people you admire have been doing this for years. For another thing, read more. Genuinely, it’ll help you write better. I am a better writer when I’ve been engaging with things that have good writing.

As for part two of the ask, I guess there’s a couple things? I’m insistent upon writing with more emphasis on Harry’s mental illness, both because I’m tired of so much focus on Norman’s non existent illness (that’s the most neurotypical man I’ve ever seen) while ignoring the character they probably actually intended to be read as mentally ill. I also insistently defend and focus on MJ’s reasons for doing things because as a lesbian I’m hyper aware of all fandoms favor for white men that’s caused by a lot of subconscious misogyny and racism and fans are always more critical of women than men.

I do hate a lot more things than I like. I love being critical, it’s in my soul to be analytically critical of things. I hate how a lot of sm3 rewrites will effectively make Harry into a psychopathic crazy slasher villain. Ignoring the ableism to making the guy who hallucinates into That, I also think it’s a major case of throwing the baby out with the bath water with sm3. Harry was never going to be that kind of villain. His arc was always going to be about breaking out of the cycle of abuse by defying his father and becoming his own person. I’m also generally annoyed when fics insist on calling Norman “neglectful” or a “bad father” instead of just saying he was emotionally abusive. It feels like they just think it’s a dirty word someone can’t come back from so they mislabel things. Also a sort of cartoonish example of how if someone doesn’t hit you or shout at you, your experiences will be doubted.

I hate it when fans of other mlm peter ships write Harry as an abusive ex. Just make an oc.

This is pettier and I’ll admit it, but I hate it when raimi Harry is just arbitrarily shoved with a woman. I can give MJ a pass, I have my read of it but if you can sell me on it I’ll allow it. But most of the time, it just feels like Obligatory Heterosexual Love Interest. I’ve found fics that can sell me on it, there’s this one on ffnet I dug up where he ended up with Gwen that I thought was fine less for Harrygwen and more because they wrote them both well. If you can sell me on it I’ll let it slide but it’s like, semi obvious to me when throwing his ass with a woman is more part of like… people seeing a love story as an obligatory part of a happy ending or someone not liking it when Harry is read as queer. It’s fine if you don’t read him as queer but if your romance sucks I’m gonna say your romance sucks. Romantic love is not a prerequisite to a happy ending. He can be happy single because he has friends. Give him some cats. Make him adopt a kid.

It’s somewhat connected, but I also hate a lot of like… sloppier Norman redemptions. I maintain my stance that no character is ever irredeemable because it’s about change but even pushing aside my personal belief I don’t think Norman would ever change, the guy is the Greek god of doubling down, people never let him take responsibility for his actions or otherwise narratively excuse him. I can’t walk two feet without finding it excused by the mental illness people headcanon onto him because mcu decided to write offensive tropes against people with DID onto him or finding a way to blame poor Emily/Caroline when we aren’t supposed to take Norman at his word that she was a bitch or completely misunderstanding the narrative purpose of Ambrose Osborn in the comics to use him as an excuse and also minimize the ways he emotionally abuses Harry. I also hate the way people will say anything but that he was abusive. He was abusive. I know it feels like a bad word you can’t come back from, but he was abusive. Just say it. Him being abusive doesn’t mean he can’t stop being abusive if you want to write that. Ambrose exists to create a cycle of abuse. Narratively, it needs to be a cycle. Harry is the one who actually breaks it. It can’t work with Norman because a major aspect of Harry breaking the cycle is that he is softer than Norman, that he has dozens of traits that Norman doesn’t have. There’s significance to that.

I honestly just hate a lot of Norman writing. I don’t think redeeming him is impossible because of my general worldview and I’ve read fics that have done it. (Really it was fic singular and it’s because they didn’t shy away from what a POS he is) but among those is like. Christ, it’s so wild to see fics in which he’s a father figure to MJ as if he didn’t both ogle her, a girl 30-40 years his junior and also threaten to rape her as the goblin. Like. That’s wild. That’s absolutely wild.

I also hate DID Norman headcanons. How am I not supposed to think it’s wildly insulting to write a character as a system when the only reason people started seeing him as one was because of the MCU’s ableist writing decisions in NWH that connected him to negative stereotypes against people with DID and OSDD. Stereotypes that the trilogy itself put actual work into avoiding because even in 2002 those writers understood that the good alter bad alter trope is terrible.

I will say that none of Hollys extended Norman writing hatred is directed at people who are currently in the fandom. That was more like, circa 2021-2022 NWH fandom things that made me want to die.

[oddmawd]

I've loved reading The Art of Queen Sacrifice! Your writing style, world-building, and character creations are exceptional. You always have a good handle on where your stories go and how characters interact. I'm curious if you ever hit points when you have a story flushed out and planned, but then suddenly hit scenes where you get stuck on what to do or create at the moment to continue on with the rest of the story. Do you take breaks? Push through it? Go back to a drawing board?

first of all omg THANK YOU for the niceness, you’re a literal angel <3 this is a great question and i'm actually going to answer this with proper grammar for once in my goddamn life LMAOOOO

I spend a lot of time with my stories’ concepts before I release any chapters. Generally I outline them from start to finish before I start writing chapter 1 privately. Because I spend a long time in the development phase, I don’t typically get stuck (not for long, anyway) while writing the chapters themselves; it’s hard to get lost when I’ve written myself a road map before starting the trip, so to speak. I highly recommend outlining your story for this reason.

That said, I always leave room in my outlines for organic development and spontaneity. Ideas will continue to grow and develop when I’m past the outlining stage and in the drafting stage; I had a revelation about The Sight Unseen as recently as last week, and I've had that story outlined since 2019. I allow room for my stories to organically grow and develop by leaving some parts of my outline somewhat nebulous/vague. This is, of course, a very generous way of saying that while the outlines of my beginnings and endings tend to be very strong/clear (they're often the first parts of the story I create), the connective tissue of scenes between them is FAR less thoroughly conceived. I’d like to pretend this is an intentional choice, but truth be told, I often outline my rising action by just transcribing random scenes that occur to me (typically the “big scenes” that first inspired me to write the story itself). I worry about their specific flow once I start writing the story and reach that part of my outline. As you might imagine, that’s the most likely point at which I get stuck: when transferring the nebulous rising action before the story’s climax from vague vibes to tangible scenes and plot development.

SO WHAT THE HECK DO I DO WHEN I REACH THIS POINT?

The magic is in my outline. I just go back and start tinkering with my notes, moving pieces around and experimenting with their order and filling in missing scenes that bridge other content until something clicks that wasn’t clicking before. Most of the time when I get stuck, it’s because I’ve hit a subconscious roadblock. My creative brain knows SOMETHING is wrong, but my conscious mind hasn’t pinpointed precisely what. Going back to my outline, where I can tinker in short-form and swap things around without destroying anything, helps me figure out what I’ve missed. In an outline, I can create alternate versions of stories and explore what-if scenarios without wasting too much time on writing prose I’ll never use in the story itself. Sometimes if I get REALLY stuck, I'll sit down and rewrite my entire outline from memory, and often my brain will fix things on the fly since I'm not looking at my flawed outline and getting hung up on what's in it.

It also helps to take breaks. I rotate between stories so I never get too bogged down in one narrative. Swapping between stories gives my brain a break, and I can come back to new chapters with fresh eyes every time.

Oh, and if you’re writing a story and you get stuck on one scene alone, it’s OK to put “[insert conversation about X here]” and then come back to it later. Pushing through like that is perfectly fine if you’re in the middle of writing. Don’t lose momentum!

I hope this was helpful. To answer your question more directly, it’s a combination of “taking breaks” and “going back to the drawing board,” with a healthy dash of “use a placeholder and push through” for good measure.

[areyouafraid]

ok the reason im thinking abt sonic again is i went on a little sonic.exe deepdive. i was watching some vids abt horror fangames / romhacks (i rbed some green mountain & coronation day stuff) and i went on from there

honestly i was never a huge creepypasta fan & i thought sonic.exe was corny even when i first read it as a little babby so i was never like, into it even though i was a big sonic fan when it was first popular (i do remember a lot of people drawing self ship art with the spooky hyperrealistic blood sonic though which was kinda funny looking back). plus there was all that shit with the original creator recently. but i guess a shitton of people made their own versions of the story and i think theyre actually pretty interesting. my personal favorite takes on it have to be sonic pc port, rewrite and no more innocence.

i really like joedoughboi's artstyle and i love how expressive lord x gets to be. somehow the weird human teeth add so much character.

i love rewrite's approach and the presentation really sells the concept a lot better than the original did imo. rewrite feels more like an accidentally creepy e-rated game than he does like something trying really hard to be scary, and the aspect of a weird extradimensional entity pretending to be a popular video game character is much better executed.

and no more innocence is so straightforward but so good. it feels more grounded in the sense that its horror doesnt fall fully on needing something to die, which i like. also i loveeeee the design and artstyle. it kinda reminds me of the dreams i used to have before i was medicated. it's so surreal, it just feels otherworldly, like something your subconscious mind would create. (side note: i do feel like even my dreams were different before i started taking lexapro, which is probably a weird thing to attribute to an SSRI but seriously. i wouldnt say they were necessarily "scarier" because my dreams have generally always been pretty lucid, but they were definitely... grosser? more visceral? a little lynchian? idk you had to be there)

i will say that i had no fucking idea how much shit there apparently was outside of the original pasta. like "sonic.exe" himself is supposed to be like a yog-sothoth-esque extradimensional entity that steals souls. which i had no fucking idea about. my first impression was that everyone was going with the "haunted game!!!" thing, which, supernatural horror honestly kinda falls flat for me a lot of the time esp when it comes to ghosts, but knowing its more of an old one type situation kinda makes it "make more sense" to me somehow

[cookinguptales]

🦆 Tarot ask, if you have time

what's on my mind: creative writing projects

song inspiration: "Game On!" from the Ocean's 8 soundtrack, or really anything on that soundtrack since I'm writing a heist story

Thanks so much! No worries if you're overloaded with asks

Ooh, heists are so fun to write. I hope you have a good time!

Game On! (Daniel Pemberton, Ocean's 8)

(Ace of Wands (reversed), The Chariot (reversed), Queen of Swords)

Hmm. Might you be suffering from writer's block, friend? If so, I think it might be wise to remember that old advice, if you're struggling with this sentence, the real problem might be a few paragraphs back.

The Ace of Wands is typically a really positive card about potential and inspiration and new projects. It's really fun to see when you just start writing! But... it's reversed here. That often means that you're struggling with finding your way forward. You might be feeling a little aimless, or like something is blocking your progress. In other words, writer's block. :(

Next, we have The Chariot. Again, this is a card that's usually about forward motion and willpower. But it's reversed again. That usually means that you're feeling really frustrated because things aren't going the way you want them to. You feel blocked. But there's also an element of stubbornness to The Chariot, for better or for worse. When you're doing well, this stubbornness can be a boon. But when things aren't going well, sometimes it doesn't serve you as well. You may need to stop trying to butt your head against a wall and instead look for other ways forward. You may have to change something about your story in order to move forward. What's stopping you might be your own subconscious telling you that this isn't right.

As for advice to go forward, we have the Queen of Swords. This is a woman who's very wise and always in pursuit of the truth -- and frankly, she won't accept any bullshit. She cuts right to the heart of things, which can make her unpopular, perhaps, but also deeply effective.

There's that phrase that writers hate to hear... "Kill your darlings." It means that sometimes you have to cut out something you love to make the final product stronger. It could be something small, like a line. It could be a storyline that's not working. It could be an entire character that just isn't moving things forward.

I don't actually recommend deleting these things altogether; instead, I like to put those things in another document somewhere. Not dead, but sleeping. It's soothing to know that I can always come back to them later when they might better suit the project.

But for now... I think you're going to have to look at your story and make some hard choices. You might need to go back a ways to the last time when it felt like it was flowing smoothly and rewrite from there. You might need to identify an element of your story that you really love! But that might not be moving things forward.

Good luck! I know the struggle of a writer well and I hope you're able to make something that you're proud of! 💜