#i hope something comes out that makes all these event more gut wrenching

[limonjarritos]

Till should get to go on a murder spree for funsies 💖💖

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

GET HER BACK! || PAIGE BUECKERS

summary — after a week, nika invites you to go out with the team, giving paige an opportunity to make ammends

pairings: paige bueckers x fem cheerleader!reader

word count: 822

warnings: none

authors note: hii heres part 2 of casual!! i was gonna use ivy by frank ocean for this butttt i wanna save that for a more gut wrenching fic maybe series 🤓 ENJOY!!

part 1

It was a week since the events that had happened with Paige and you guys haven’t talked since.

Paige did try to reach out the next day, calling you multiple times but you refused to answer.

It was currently three in the afternoon. Your team had half of the court to use for practice while the other half belonged to the women’s basketball team.

“Alright, let’s run it one more time!” Your coach yelled as you all got into position.

The whole routine, you could feel Paige’s eyes on you. Her eyes scanned your body, watching your every move.

“Alright girls, let’s take five then get back into it right away!” Your coach clapped as everyone scattered towards the bleachers, trying to take advantage of the break.

You sat on the bleachers, trying to catch your breath before sipping your water.

“Hey girl!” Nika greeted as the whole team walked up to you. Including Paige.

You smiled warmly at her. “Hi! How’s practice?”

“You know coach, always up in our ass during the season.” You both chuckled. “You were great out there! Right Paige?” She nudged her shoulder forcefully.

“Yeah. You were amazing.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.”

KK cleared her throat. “We were wondering if you wanted to go out with us tonight?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know-“

“Come on!” Aaliyah butt in. “We miss you.” The rest of the team agreed behind her.

You sighed, giving in. “Alright. Just send me the details later.”

“I was also wondering if we could talk?” Paige whispered as her teammates cheered and conversed on their own, the two of you going unnoticed by the others.

“Paige, I don’t think-“ You were cut off by the sound of your coach’s whistle.

“Did I say five hours?! Wrap it up and let’s run it again!”

—

“Hey Y/N!” Nika greeted you, giving you a warm hug. You could tell she was already tipsy.

“Hi Nika.” You giggled, making eye contact with Paige as you returned the hug. You could see her jaw clench once her teammate started to rub your back.

You were going to have a lot of fun with this.

You sat next to Nika, grateful she got the imaginary memo as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Azzi spoke up. “You guys have nationals in a few weeks don’t you?”

You nod eagerly. “Coach has been pushing us a lot lately, we might have to be sharing the court a lot more for the next few weeks.”

“That’s fine with me!” Nika smirked. “I get to see you a lot more then.” She pulled you closer with her arm.

“Nika, you are so drunk.” You giggled, playing with her hair in hopes that Paige would notice the two of you.

The blonde wasn’t having it. She stood up and stomped towards the two of you.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She clenched her jaw.

“Uh-“ You faced Nika who motioned for you to go. “Yeah whatever.”

You stood up, following Paige to the exit, smirking to yourself.

Paige turned to face you. “Since when were you and Nika a thing?”

You scoffed. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

“No! I just-“ She groaned. “Nevermind. I wanted to apologize for everything I said that night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. “Was that really what I meant to you? Just having fun-?”

“No!” She put her head in her hands. “This past week has been hell for me. I missed you so bad and I didn’t even realize the effect you had on me until all my friends pointed it out.”

“But-“

“Let me finish. You can say anything you want if your opinion stays the same.” She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair. “You actually cared about me, about my feelings. You were there for me when no one else was! You made me laugh and feel like I was actually worth something. And all I did, was make you feel like you were taken advantage of, and I am so fucking sorry. There’s no one else for me Y/N. Just you.”

You were in shock. You couldn’t process the words that just came out of her mouth. “Paige, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” She took a step back. “You can take all the time you need. I’ll still be here waiting-“

You cut her off by wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her with all your emotions.

You could feel her grin as she kissed you back, pulling you closer as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Be my girlfriend?” She grinned.”

“I gotta think about it.” You teased, furrowing your brows to make it look like you were thinking.

Paige rolled her eyes. “What a tease.”

“Should we go back inside?” You asked once you both pulled away.

“We can go to my dorm. I think I might kill Nika if she puts her hands on you one more time.”

“You were jealous!”

“No I wasn’t!”

[b1ackbunny]

TAKE IT ALL

A Monika Shin Oneshot

paring: gf!monika shin x fem!reader

synopsis: you and monika have been dating for years. she’s been your person since the beginning, and you’ve been hers. for the past few months, you’ve barely talked to her, much less seen her although you two live together. she’s been caught up with work and you’ve been understanding. that was until she forgot about your fourth anniversary.

word count: ≈ 2.4k

warnings: ANGST!!!, like I’m talking gut wrenching, nausea, strong language, feelings are hurt, mention of knives, monika is a d1 asshole here, angst with sad ending, if my english is bad here I'm sorry

masterlist

a/n: this is so self-indulgent bc I've been feening for some angst 🧎‍♀️ also I was listening to adele and sam smith while writing this so I hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏽 my heart physically hurted writing this I’m so proud (pun intended)

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The obnoxious ticking of the timepiece above the door constantly sounded, finding humor in your current situation. It was a little after 10 o'clock at night, and you were still waiting for your girlfriend to return.

Sure, the past few months have been a little rocky, but you've been understanding. Her schedule has been hectic with different events to attend, choreographies to work on, and classes to teach.

But this was different. You’ve tried as hard as you could to stay supportive and compassionate, though the minimal communication was eating you alive. You’ve tried so hard to give her the benefit of the doubt.

But this was different. It was your fourth anniversary and where was the woman you were supposed to be spending it with? Nowhere to be found. Except, that’s not entirely correct.

You knew where she was. You saw it on Lip J’s Instagram story a few hours ago. She had gone out with a couple of friends to a nightclub downtown, ignoring each and every one of your calls.

At this point, you were more tired than mad, but you were still very aggravated. You and Monika had only talked to each other once today, on one of the most special days in your year.

It was that morning when you passed each other in the kitchen. You asked her to come home earlier because you had something “special” planned for her. She agreed before kissing you goodbye and walking out the door.

There were no signs that she had forgotten what today was. None at all. You went the whole day giddy and excited about that afternoon. Your co-workers teased you for your excitement, but nothing they could say was able to wipe the smile off of your face.

After work, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up ingredients for the special dinner you planned to make for the two of you. Ironically, it was Monika’s favorite dish. You had to substitute some factors for the second-best thing since the store ran out, but it still tasted the same.

You rushed home to begin cooking the meal before she got back. You were even dancing around the kitchen while cooking and looking back, you feel like an idiot at your excitement. At around 6:30ish, you sent her a text asking if she was on her way and received no reply.

You shrugged it off and started setting the table, assuming that she was finishing up her last class. After thirty minutes you decided to text her again and received no reply.

That's when you started calling, but she didn't pick up. You begin feeling worried, the worst scenarios coming to mind. You called around and found out that Monika was safe and healthy, but just not picking up your phone calls.

This is when you started feeling irritated. Your girlfriend of four years was ignoring you on your anniversary and it made your blood boil. But then, (maybe it was the delusional part of you that took control) you started to think she was just pulling a prank on you.

She would burst through the door at any moment now with a gift and your favorite flowers in tow, a bright cheesy smile adorning her features. But when you saw Lip J’s story, your fantasies came to a halt.

Now, you were sitting at the decorated table alone. The food had gone cold a while ago and the slow-melting candles were lighting your emotionless face. You were hurt. How dare she? How could she?

Every year without fail, neither of you had ever forgotten this sacred day. No matter the amount of work either of you had, you made sure to make time for each other on this day.

So this just confirmed how rocky things had recently been. You were lost in your thoughts when from the corner of your eye, you saw the door open. Your gaze slowly trailed from the wall to the front door where Monika had walked in.

You felt nauseous, the hurt and heartache getting to you. “I made you dinner.” You emotionlessly stated as Monika locked the door. She turned toward your seated figure and glanced at the table before looking back at the door.

“I'm not hungry,” Monika muttered, exchanging her shoes for her slippers by the door. You scoffed and humorlessly chuckled, pouring yourself a glass of wine.

Monika directed her gaze back toward you, finally taking notice of the tense environment. With a sigh, she dropped her duffel bag on the couch, mumbled a ‘fine’, and moved toward the table.

Before sitting down, she dipped her head to kiss your cheek. But, before she was able to reach it, you moved your head out of the way. She looked at you with furrowed brows and tried again, but you repeated your motions.

Her eyes darted across your face, observing your stone-cold expression before giving up and sitting in her seat. She took a bite of her serving and instantly started criticizing, “It's cold.” “Something tastes different.”

You mindlessly hummed at her statements, taking a sip of wine and keeping your eyes trained on the picture that hung on the wall behind her. Funny enough, it was a picture of you two on your second anniversary.

The two of you took a week-long vacation to Jeju Island in honor of that special day. How things have changed. “Interesting choice of wine…” Monika mumbled and that's when you decided you had enough.

You pushed your chair out and stood up, taking both plates and moving toward the trash bin. “What the fuck is your problem?” Monika exclaimed as she followed your figure.

You couldn't help the scoff that escaped your lips, dropping the plates onto the counter above the bin. “What's my problem? I made your favorite fucking food and all you did was critic every aspect of it.

There was no ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate you slaving away in the fucking kitchen for me as soon as you got home from work’.” You stressed every syllable, dropping the food in the trash as your voice grew louder.

“Is that what this is about? The food?” You were quick to respond to Monika’s words, spinning towards her after you reached the sink. “It's not about the food! Don't you see? I wanted to spend time with you today!

I asked you to come home early today and what did you do? You went to a fucking nightclub with your friends.” You're voice cracked a little, and you wanted to slap yourself for getting this vulnerable.

The look on Monika’s face only got you more heated. It was obvious she found your statement unreasonable as she let out a dry laugh. “Wow, I didn't know I couldn't spend time with my friends anymore. Why are you being so fucking clingy?”

Monika’s words felt like a bullet straight to your heart and your eyes began to water. You kept your tears at bay but the glisten in your eyes revealed the truth. “Stop it. I'm not being clingy. You agreed to come home early today and you didn't.” Your voice got dangerously low as you approached the other side of the kitchen island that Monika was behind.

“Well, sue me for wanting to have a little fun. I didn't know I had to be with you every second of the day.” Monika’s voice rose as she spewed her words covered in sarcasm. “But you're not! You're not here with me every second of the day. You're not even with me for an hour a week.” You cried out.

“So what? Just because I don't see you every day means I can't have a social life? Newsflash, I have a life outside of you, y/n.” Monika matched your volume, slightly leaning over the table.

“That’s not what I’m saying. You're not even listening to me! We're a couple, Monika! When you say you're going to be home early to spend the evening with one another, you're supposed to mean it!” No matter how loud you talked, you couldn't get through to her.

“You’re being ridiculous! Since I’m dating you, I can’t have any friends?” “That’s not what I’m saying! You’re twisting my words.” “It’s like you’re dating me to control me. Is that what it is?” You were shocked by the words that your girlfriend was saying.

Is that how she truly felt or was she just saying that from the anger? More tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you slowly shook your head. “You don’t mean that.” Monika rounded the counter to step closer to you, but it was like she was a stranger.

You couldn't recognize the woman standing in front of you. “Oh, I mean it. I've been nothing but good to you and this is how you treat me? I can't have fun with my friends and I have to be with you whenever I'm not working?” You took a couple of steps back at Monika’s words.

“Stop.” You breathed out, gripping the edge of the counter. You were starting to feel nauseous again. “Stop what? Telling the truth? It was like you came into my life to ruin it. Is that what you want?

To ruin my life? Because you are. You're making a fucking hellhole out of it.” Monika yelled and her words cut like knives. The tears started to slowly glide down your face. “Don’t be a bully. You're being a bully.” Your tone was hushed and you couldn't take your eyes off of Monika’s.

It was like they had an iron grip on you. Her walls were up, and it was clear she was in defense mode. Nothing you could say or do could bring them down.

“This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. I just wanted to spend time with you today. That's all I wanted. I didn't want to wait around like an idiot for you.” Your gaze flickered between Monika’s eyes and you saw nothing had changed.

“No, you wanted to ambush me. This was an ambush.” You let out a heavy sigh at what your girlfriend had said, wiping the tears away. “No that is not what this is. Monika, please listen to me. There's been this distance between us for the past couple of months and I've been trying so hard to be understanding-”

Monika was quick to cut you off. “What happened to make you act like this? You've never been this unbearable throughout the entirety of our relationship, so what changed?”

There was a moment of silence where you just looked down at the floor. You contemplated even bringing up today to the stranger standing in front of you. Your breaths were shallow as you looked back into Monika’s unwavering gaze.

“Do you even remember what today is?” Monika rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “What? Are you going to lie and say it's your birthday? Because we both know-” This time you were the one to cut her off, your voice low and as steady as it could be given the tears you were holding back for dear life. “It's our anniversary.”

A prolonged pause occurred and the silence was deafening. You saw Monika’s eyes soften at the revelation. “Baby, I'm so sorry. With work and everything-”

“Don’t start with the bullshit excuses, Monika. I have work too, we both do. I'm not just sitting at home twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to come home.” Your voice was steady and you scoffed at the solemn look on Monika’s features.

There was a whirlwind of emotions you were feeling, the most prominent were agitation, sadness, hurt, and exhaustion. “I carved time out of my day to make today special and all I asked was for you to come home early, to which you agreed but didn't live up to your word.” Monika was silent now and her eyes seemed to grow glossy.

She moved closer to you, reaching to grab your hand but you moved away from her before she could do so. “C'mon, can we talk about this tomorrow? We're both tired-” You shook your head, instantly shutting down Monika’s idea.

“No, we’re going to talk about this now. Do you even realize the shit you said to me? How hurt my feelings are?” Your eyes squinted in disbelief as all Monika could do in response was swallow and spew fake apologies. You shook your head and looked at Monika. Like, really looked at her.

You still couldn't recognize the person she had become. You regained your composure and took a deep breath. It was your turn to stop being vulnerable and start building your walls back up.

“I think we should take a break.” Monika looked completely bewildered at your words. “What do you mean? No, we're not doing that. Absolutely not.” Monika grabbed your hands before you could move them away, holding them to her mouth and kissing them as she spoke.

Your eyes began to gloss over again and you shook your head, slowly pulling your hands from Monika’s grasp. “We have to. It might be that we've been together for too long, but what you said today… I know you meant it. At least a little bit.” Tears started to roll down both of your faces and Monika quickly shook her head, spewing ‘no’s’ and apologies.

Although the two of you were standing face to face, you couldn't be farther apart. You wiped her tears and stared at her before moving toward the shared bedroom. You felt horrible inside, the sick feeling that never left was more prominent. You grabbed your wallet and keys before moving back toward the main section of the apartment.

Monika was still begging you to stay, saying how she would change and how she was sorry but you couldn't stay. After tonight, there was a cement wedge pushed between you two that would take a lot of work to get rid of.

You still loved her, that was a given, but you needed some time to heal before mending your relationship. You unlocked the door and looked back at the girl.

She was still crying and you almost listened to your heart that told you to stay, but your mind was too loud. You caressed her cheek and wiped the tears that spilled, leaving her with a teary smile before leaving the apartment.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[sleepiexx]

I Still Love You

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Link to Pt.1

Note: I’m not even going to tell u the excuse for why this took so long, terribly sorry for that, more stuff is coming I love y’all 🫶

Summary: How can you expect to get the woman you’ve loved for such a long time out of your mind?

Warnings: small mention of blood, someone threatens someone w a knife

Word count: 1463

A familiar scene was spread across the prison floors, the deep crimson that Valeria knew all too well along with its pungent metallic smell and the unmoving bodies of prison guards. Carnage.

Valeria could be a philosopher with how often she thought poetic thoughts of carnage. It followed her around— or rather, she created it— how could it not take president in her mind? Be it guilt, or justification of her actions, or even past traumatic events she had witnessed, carnage was always there. But during her time behind bars, the time it seemed the most fitting to reflect, she found that something else took up her every waking thought.

This led her not to one of her many safe houses, as she had planned in the event of her capture and prompt escape, but to an apartment she’d only narrowly been able to discover through research she had her lawyer conduct. Fourth floor, number eleven. She repeated it over and over, until it may as well have been etched into the tough bone of her skull. Y/n’s place. All she wanted was y/n.

At night, in her cell, it wasn’t the stiff mattress, or the freezing cold air which was barely combatted by the all-too-thin blanket that kept her awake. No. It was the constant replay of y/n walking away from her that had her staring at the concrete ceiling. She could still feel her lips, as if they had only just parted despite the months they spent apart. You can never just forget the woman who ran through your mind rent free for years, especially not when she makes an exit like that after you see her for the first time since you left the army to start a cartel.

So she followed her gut, followed it all the way to the fourth floor, and all the way to number eleven.

The room was dark, but cozy, sleepiness seeped from every pore in y/n’s body as she sat nearly fused to the couch, yet despite that, she continued to raise the tv remote and click “play next episode” on the series she had been watching on Netflix. It was mindless, truly, she hated it. The show was lame with it’s bland plot lines mashed between mediocre sex scenes, but y/n would not dare consider the alternative. Sleeping ever since she had left Valeria in that shipping container was not an option. When she tried, all she was met with was a gut wrenching guilt which left her staring at the ceiling like her eyelids were stapled open.

She wondered what Valeria was up to. If she was getting any sleep in prison, y/n guessed not so she rationalized her own insomnia by saying she did not deserve sleep as long as Valeria could not. In the beginning, she almost hoped Valeria would break out. It was wrong, sure, but y/n couldn’t force herself to want the woman to rot in prison. Now, though, as the months dragged on, her hope seemed to dissipate and what had happened felt all too real. Valeria was stuck in a cell now, all because of her. The guilt ate away at her spirit like acid.

So, yeah, maybe she did really need sleep, but no she would not turn off the trashy Netflix series because it was the only thing keeping her mind off of it all. Until her attention was caught by a slight noise in the kitchen. Nothing loud, in fact it would have gone undetected to the untrained ear, but y/n was anything but. She left the tv on, so as not to alert any possible intruder to the fact that she knew they were there. Ever so carefully, she crept into the kitchen, grabbing a pocket knife she left on the coffee table after opening a package earlier in the day.

A figure stood in front of the window which led to the fire escape outside, closing it quietly. Y/n let it close all the way before shoving them into the wall, knife pressed against their neck. The lack of fight that the opposing party put up was a shock, that is until y/n got a good look into their deep brown eyes.

“Valeria?” Shocked, y/n pulled away. She dropped the knife on the dinner table, in favor of walking a few paces backwards away from the woman.

“Did you miss me?” She smirked, that same smirk y/n had seen time and time again.

Y/n scrunched her brows in disbelief, “Christ, what are you doing here? And why did you come through the window?”

“I thought you would be asleep, and isn’t it obvious why I’m here?” Valeria stretched out a hand.

Y/n shook her head and turned away, furious, attempting to walk away. Maybe she could just crawl back under her blanket on the couch and everything would all just go away. But that couldn’t happen with Valeria chasing after her, grabbing onto her shoulder and spinning her around.

“I told you this couldn’t happen again.” Y/n fumed.

“Yeah, well, we both know you didn’t mean that.”

Valeria pushed y/n up against the wall of her apartment, breaking the tension without hesitation by kissing her. Where the prior kiss had been tender and loving, this one was rough. Fast paced and dirty, with Valeria digging her teeth into y/n’s bottom lip. The girl let out a yelp from the pain, only giving Valeria further access to her mouth.

The kiss was reciprocated, as y/n threw all coherent thought and caution to the wind, grabbing onto Valeria’s shirt and pulling her closer.

All at once it was like she was taken back to years ago when all she knew was her love for the spitfire lieutenant who saved her like she were nothing more than a damsel in distress.

She stood in her own apartment and yet the walls seemed to morph into the one Valeria used to own. She felt younger, as though her sergeant patches and all of her ribbons had been ripped off in exchange for her old private ones. Years of separation and the passion had not changed.

They parted for air, y/n still clutching Valeria’s shirt. She stepped forward, closing the space between them as she wrapped her arms around Valeria and buried her face in her neck, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely hers.

“As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s so good to see you.” Y/n whispered.

Valeria pushed away, only so that she could stare at y/n’s face, “what, didn’t think I’d come back?”

Y/n shook her head, scratching the nape of her neck awkwardly, “I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

“Do you want me here?”

The abrupt silence that followed was overwhelming. The answer was yes, god, yes y/n wanted her there, but how could she ever admit that?

She worked hard to get to where she was, trained tirelessly, and fought tooth and nail for her rank. It was not an easy feat, not from how she had started, and especially not from the major set back Valeria’s disappearance had caused her. But she persevered through it all, reigning victorious, claiming the rank she proudly wore against her chest every day; with no help from the woman who stood before her, mind you.

So how could she cave in that moment? How could she give it all up for someone who was not even there for support? Neither without great internal struggle.

“I shouldn’t.” Y/n muttered, beginning to pace around, “fuck, I really shouldn’t, everyone- everyone would be so mad at me but, damn it, I can’t help it.”

Valeria made her way closer and closer, until y/n was up against the wall again, unable to focus on anything but her. No more pacing, no more fighting with herself, just Valeria. Valeria pressed the palm of her hand to the side of y/n’s face, running her thumb over the girl’s lips, mesmerized, “no one else is here. Just you and me.”

“Just- just you ‘n me.” Y/n whispered, “you gonna leave me again?”

Valeria shook her head, “never meant to the first time.”

Y/n nodded and tilted her head so she could press a kiss to the heel of Valeria’s hand, content with her answer, allowing herself a moment of respite in her old flame’s grasp.

“‘M tired, and I bet you are too. Come to bed with me?”

Valeria agreed, following her into her bed and shortly thereafter into a deep sleep. It wasn’t much, it certainly wasn’t perfect, but they were right where they belonged: together.

[sukithebean]

My thoughts on Crosshair's Hand

So I wanna talk about something that used to really bug me about the season 3 finale that I have now come to appreciate: the controversial chopping of Crosshair's hand.

Why it Bugged me originally:

It felt like a lost sub plot. There had been so much emphasis on his tremor throughout the season and I was waiting for a moment in which he'd be able to overcome it. We got the meditation, his face off with CX-2, the lost chance when he missed planting the tracker on the ship to Tantiss, and I was really hoping for retribution. Then they just lopped it off. They fucking cut his hand off before anything else could be done. I thought 'Wtf? What was all this focus on his hand for then?' It kind of felt like they stopped trying to make a moment happen, which was dissatisfying to watch.

What I thought his tremor represented:

In its most basic sense, Crosshair's tremor was directly related to his trauma, and the lingering effects of his time on Tantiss, as pointed out by AZ. It was a device for the usually stand-offish character to open up and receive some well-deserved comfort. You could also view it as a consequence of his actions in previous seasons; he turned on his family and actively hunted them down and he was now paying for that.

When you look at it that way, the expectation that he will get over it by the end of the season is paramount to his character development. And when that didn't happen, it left his arc feeling somewhat incomplete. Which made me go grrr at the screen when credits rolled.

What I think it represents now:

After thinking about it some more, I realised how silly it was to think that he could just 'get over' what was probably the most traumatic event of his entire life. PTSD doesn't go away because your little sister meditates with you and holds your hand. Tremors don't fade because you removed yourself from the stressful environment. They come and go like bad thoughts, and you have to constantly work on them, potentially for the rest of your life. And yes, this is a cartoon, but it's TBB we're talking about. Filoni loves to put his audience through this type of gut-wrenching realness.

I came to realise that maybe Crosshair's tremor wasn't about consequences or living with trauma, it was representative of being torn between one life and the next: Being a soldier for the Empire, and being on Pabu with his family.

Why the limb lopping works for me now:

Crosshair losing his hand became almost symbolic of him finally deciding which life he wanted. He even said it himself before storming the facility, "we're not that team anymore". He was ready to put the soldier away and everything that came with it. He didn't need to be the top sniper anymore. He just needed to be there for Omega.

While his tremor was never sorted, losing his hand is what effectively cost him his career as a marksman. But it didn't matter because he had already made the choice to move on. What I once thought of as sloppy storytelling and an inconclusive ending for such a fantastically layered character became a great moment and a new beginning.

[parvulous-writings]

Don’t push it. // Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: You nurse an ill, and very reluctant Miguel

Warnings: I’m bad at Spanish, Miguel has a cold and is grumpy git. Gender neutral terms used around reader to the best of my ability! 

Words: 2.3K

Notes:  Am I somewhat out of it? Yes. Shush.  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!   If you’d like to support me more, consider donating to my kofi! I’d appreciate it loads!!  

Not my gif

It wasn’t uncommon for Miguel to be grumpy; the stress of everything pertaining to the multiverse weighed heavily on him. He could not have what happened to him, that gut-wrenching loss of life, happen to anyone else. He would make sure that everything stayed in order, that canon events happened when they were meant to, that all spider-people were on the same trajectory. The task and the past that it stemmed from weighed heavily on him, always. So, statistically, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he started developing cold symptoms - he was under so much stress that his ability to fight off illness had been heavily affected. He found the symptoms mildly annoying to begin with, but since he was still able to continue his work without much impairment, he did so, trying to make sure he did as much as he would normally do even though he could feel his nose getting steadily more and more blocked.  After a few hours, an ache began to make itself known on his forehead; a massive headache. Miguel tried to power through this, too, but steadily it became very overwhelming to him. The lights - which were typically dimmed anyway due to his sensitivity to them- were starting to bug him. 

“Lyla.” 

Hell, he sounded sick, like he was pushing his voice past it’s limit. 

“Turn out the lights.” 

Without a word, everything went black, asides from the soft orange glow of the screens around him. Typically, Lyla would have given him a quip, or a joke in retaliation, but she didn’t even try this time, she could tell he was too ill for things like that. She appeared near his shoulder, only just in his peripheral vision. “You’re not looking too hot, y’know... You want me to call someone?”  “No.”  “You should-”  “I said no.” He replied gruffly again, “Just let me get on with my work.” He shirked his shoulder, as if Lyla actually physically stood there. The hologram tapped her chin, pouting slightly as she thought - well, as much as she could think at least. She knew exactly the course of action she’d have to take here. 

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen side, prolonged and repetitive - the screen flashing with the caller ID: Lyla ✨. She had added the emoji herself a while ago, and you hadn’t had the heart to remove them. If Lyla was trying to contact you without just randomly materialising in front of you, something was off. You didn’t need Spidey-sense to know that it would be about Miguel. You tapped the screen a couple of times, answering the call and putting it on speaker, so you could continue in the kitchen, making yourself some lunch.  “Go on, Lyla, fill me in.” You said to her. “Well...” Lyla began, drawing out the syllable an almost humorous amount of time. “Miguel is ill, and he’s refusing to rest or take a break. I think you’re going to have to come in, to either get him to rest here, or just take him home. He’s going to tear someone’s head off if we’re not careful...” She warned. You sighed quietly, you knew she was right, even if she was slightly exaggerating.  “Alright... Give me ten minutes, okay?” And with that, the call finished. You quickly got through your food, before putting on your shoes and heading out of the apartment, hoping to catch one of the speeding trains to the edge of the city. One of the perks of getting to reside in Nueva York, was that there was at least somewhat easy access to the place where your beloved worked - and practically lived it felt like. It also helped that most of the Spiders knew you, and helped you to navigate the rather large, and confusing building. If you needed to be somewhere in the building quick, you knew you didn't have to be afraid to ask one of the many, many Spiders milling around every corner of every room in the structure. Thankfully, that wasn't the case today - you weren't entirely sure that a lot of fast paced swinging would help your food go down. Instead, you were taking one of the many elevators installed, straight up to the top of the building; of course, the dark, brooding Miguel O’Hara had to have something that could only be described as a lair. The fact that the lights were off were not helping the matter, either. 

As soon as you entered the room, you knew where he was - Miguel was always  in the same place. His shoulder twitched slightly as the doors slid open quickly for you - he had picked up the minuscule change in light. He hadn’t, however, realised it was you entering the room; one downside of not having the spider-senses so many others seemed to be blessed with. “Go away.” He gruffly called down to you, not even turning around.  “Fine way to greet your other half...” You chuckled softly, and it was then that he glanced over his shoulder, eyes wandering down to your distant silhouette.  “...Corazón... What are you..?”  “Lyla called... Come down, Miggy...” You spoke softly, not taking his former gruffness to heart. You knew he didn’t mean it, not really. He was sweet to you always - a softie through and through, beneath the rough and ragged exterior, the front that he put up in front of others, to keep them at arms length. At an almost comically slow pace, his platform began to descend. It seemed like forever had passed before Miguel was shuffling towards you. You open your arms when he gets close, and embrace him. For a moment, you both just stand in the hug, drinking in the sense of being in one another’s arms. After a minute or two, you pulled away slightly, cupping Miguel’s face carefully in your hands, subtly examining him. Miguel still noticed what you were doing, though. “Stop, mi amor... I’m fine...” He told you, bringing one of his large hands up to your own, and resting it on top. “Absolutely fine...” He reiterated, but of course, you could see it wasn’t true. His entire face was red, and hot - and you knew that for once, it wasn’t you that had caused this. You stayed quiet, thinking. How could you get him home to rest, without agitating him too much? Not an easy task, no. 

“Come home for lunch, sweetheart...” You suggested to him. “I’ll make you something special...”  He was going to protest about this - you could see it brewing behind his eyes, but you kept going. “Then you can come back here later... okay?”  “The multiverse isn’t going to watch itself...” The man grumbled, his brows furrowing together, putting creases through his forehead; ones that had been used so many times before throughout his life.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine for a little while... And besides, Lyla can keep an eye whilst your gone, can’t she?” You look off to the side, where the glowing little form of Lyla was hovering, jumping back and forth, before giving you two thumbs up. “’Course I can.” She confirmed. “That’s what I’m here for.” She chuckled softly, before zipping away to examine the many amber monitors at the back of the room, before Miguel could try and protest that she wouldn’t be able to; not that the glowing AI would take no for an answer anyway.  “The trip home isn’t too long, Miguelito...” You told him, carefully starting to lead him out of the room, though he was putting up some resistance now; you had called him the nickname primarily used when he was ill.  “I’m not sick...” He protested, before glancing over your shoulders to the door that was about to snap open, and he stopped in his tracks, unmoving though you tugged at his arm. “... The lights are on out there...” He mumbled, red eyes glancing down at you. You knew all too well that he would not be able to handle any of the light on the way home. You hummed quietly in thought, before looking at him. “Did you bring your sunglasses with you?”  “No,” He scoffed. “I didn’t need to, when I came in.” He told you, his wide arms crossing over his even wider chest. “I don’t need to go home..” He insisted, “I will be fine..” Considering you now had no way to get  him back to your shared apartment without giving him the biggest flashbang, and biggest accompanying headache of his life, you figured you’d have to make do with whatever you could find in his office. Your eyes darted this way and that, trying to find anything soft that you could use as a pillow, so that Miguel could actually lay down, and rest. There were a few chairs, of varying plushness, which you could perhaps repurpose for nap time.  You moved quickly and with purpose, moving items this way and that to create a small nap area for your partner. “There we are...” You announced after a few minutes, stepping back to admire your work. Was it five star hotel worthy? Perhaps not, but it would do for the moment. Miguel seemed to sneer at  the sight,  but after a gentle push on the arm, he acquiesced. Maybe amusing you wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carefully, you guided him down onto the bed, comprised of plush desk chairs. It was an awkward fit, but with a little bit of work, Miguel was just about comfortable, though he still looked very grumpy. “You didn’t have to do that.” He muttered, “I was fine as I was.”  “You continuing as you were would have ended up with slobber all over the consoles.” You joked, shaking your head as you tried to help him get a bit comfier.  “I don’t drool in my sleep.” That was a flat out lie - he knew he did. It was hard not to, what with his fangs; it was hard enough keeping them in his mouth when he was awake sometimes.  “Uh huh, alright honey, if that’s what you say..” You tease quietly, quickly pecking his cheek. “Now... You try and have a snooze, okay?”  “... I’m not five.”  “Have a snooze, Miguel.” You repeat, just as soft as before- there was no use in being too hard on him when he was like this, he was going to be stubborn no matter what you did or what approach you had decided to take. He huffed, a frown clear on his lips, despite the darkness in the room.  “Yes, mother.” He replied sarcastically. As much as he was protesting, however, he had to quietly admit to himself, laying down and closing his eyes for a moment did feel nice. Almost heavenly, in fact. 

“How quickly did the symptoms come on, Lyla?” You asked, your voice nothing more than a whisper.  “Fairly quickly.” She replied. She wasn’t forcing her voice to be quiet like you were, she had only turned her volume down in a literal sense. “Started sniffling, then on came the headache.” She shrugged. “Though I do have to say - never seen him give up that quickly before. Usually Peter B argues with him for at least an hour before Miguel even takes a five minute break, let alone a whole nap. I’m impressed.” Her golden form zipped away for a moment, clicking a quick selfie with the already sleeping Miguel, before returning to her prior  position. “Well, I suppose being his lover does help a bit... I’d like to think he has a soft spot for me.” You chuckled, joking with Lyla. You had always been fond of her, even if she wasn’t human, she certainly knew how to act like one. Miguel always acted like he found your bond with his AI companion to be more trouble than it was worth, but in actuality, he found it rather cute - he too had his own unique relationship with the software.  “Yeeaahh, I think you’re right... I think he’s got more than just a soft spot for you, though. He’s just soft for you.” She told you. “Now, don’t tell him I told you this, buuut... You know how he keeps way too many tabs open at once?” Anyone who even took one sideways glance at Miguel’s floating desktop knew how many tabs he kept open at any one time, so you just nodded. “Well... By my calculation, about 53% of those are centered - one way or another - on you. Like your favourite food, song, tv shows and movies, as well as-”  “Alright, alright, I get it, Lyla...” You laughed gently, your eyes landing on the peaceful form of your sleeping boyfriend, who was already starting to gently snuffle in his sleep; the cold had overcome him quicker than he could have ever expected, and it was clear that his body was thanking him - and you - for giving it a moments peace. A little bit of solace from the immense pressure that never went away. “C’mon.. let’s leave him be for a little while... D’you know where Peter B is?” You asked, slowly starting to move towards the door. “Might go tell him that Miguel is having a nap, at work of all places.”  “Oh, he’s going to love that,” Lyla replied, taking a seat on your shoulder. “Though I think he’ll keep asking how you managed to do it... I think he’s in the cafeteria.” She chuckled, waving vaguely in the direction of your new destination. Your voices both faded off into the distance as you strolled down the hall, leaving the sleeping O’Hara to whatever dreams his mind could conjure for him, and there he would likely stay for the rest of the day - he certainly did need that rest. 

[blooming-smiles]

imagine prompt: what would kamal do if he was actually Self Aware self aware instead of Weird Deja Vu And Leaning On The Fourth Wall self aware

(cw: unreality, dark topics- read with caution!)

🪷 - kamal if he was self aware of the game

- i think waking up back on the bench after the big event would be kamal’s moment of realization that something is Not Right.

- which only gets strengthened when he has the relive the same days leading up to the big event. and then again. and again.

- at first he hopes he’s dreaming. or going through some groundhog day-esk loop that requires him to reach some kind of moral lesson until everything is back to normal again,

- but it feels like no matter what he tells flower kid before or after the big event he doesn’t have any control over what happens. flower kid determines what happens to habit. and kamal has to watch the aftermath of their choice every choice over and over and over and over and

- the more he thinks about it the more he wonders. what role does flower kid play in this? this complete stranger comes and all of a sudden he has to witness the consequences of their actions over and over again. walking down the terrace past all of the object-ified habiticians, smelling nothing but coins, hearing that gut wrenching crash after the punch-

- and it begins to set in that he’s going to have to relive it all. over and over. and his stomach drops.

- but what else is he supposed to do? flower kid did help the habiticians after all, at least in some of the loops. that means that there’s good in them. and anybody with good in them doesn’t deserve to carry the guilt of what kamal is going through, he thinks.

- and if flower kid /is/ the source of the unreality… then that might explain a lot. and i think him realizing that might connect the dots to him and everyone else being an npc in flower kid’s world

- but what is he supposed to do? just stand up and tell fk that the jig is up? there was no way he make himself responsible for confronting habit especially after the seeing the state of the habit before he left… the cryptic murals on the walls, the blood on habit’s coat… god, all of the teeth in his mouth…. he might be even more avoidant of confronting habit than the possibility that he’s not real

- he was really stressed out before it happened, you know? and i think coming to terms with the idea that this whole situation he’s got himself caught in isn’t grounded in reality wouldn’t take away from his worldly problems taking priority. like sure, maybe he’s not real. but his problems are. very, uncomfortably real.

- and even with the horror of the situation i dont think it would really corrupt him per se? i mean. he /is/ strangely casual at the end of the punch ending considering the gravity of that situation.

- i think he would almost fall into a sense of normalcy over time, even if it would sicken him how horrific of a situation it is but he kinda has to just laugh it off for flower kid’s sake. he isn’t one to go against the grain (edit: in this context)

- at the end of the day i dont think he would fight against it. i think he would be more likely to just sit with knowing that his existence might be centered around being an npc kinda just. accept it. if he was created just to be trapped in the habitat for all existence, then well. clinging to the routine is the only way for him to stay grounded

- and if that means that he’ll never get to escape, then at least it gives him infinite attempts to point flower kid in the right direction… even if they don’t listen. it’s all that he gets.

(edit: i missed an opportunity to mention this but also. his whole stand up high and think about not existing thing. yeeeaaaahhh)

(asks open for requests!)

[forevermoreamoron]

Alright time to scream and shout about Malevolent once again. Warning: This post contains spoilers for Malevolent. Especially Episodes 13, 25, 41 and 43.

If you don't want spoilers, light as they may seem for some parts, please avoid this post.

Ok?

Okay so,

Malevolent is one of those podcasts that despite it being my 5th time relistening, certain events still shock me like it's my first time listening.

Biggest example? John returns to Arthur right before they get thrown into Larson's freak pit. I still get so excited and choked up hearing the relief in Arthur's voice when he repeatedly calls John's name. I know it's coming and I still react like I couldn't possibly have foreseen this.

Another one I really like is when John and Arthur are checking Larson's prison cells to see if there are any prisoners.

I already know Matthew is going to appear with his quite little: "Who are you talking too?" But it scares me every time.

Oh and perhaps one of my favorite episodes to relisten to currently is absolutely episode 41 and Episodes 43.

My god, I get so wrapped up in the excellent character building conversations and wonderful voice acting that I forget I've already heard these before.

The beginning of episode 41 hits like a truck every time.

God, the way John goes from trying to scare Arthur, to trying to explain himself to finally admitting he's torn in two and doesn't know what to do is so devastating. You can feel the genuine hurt of being betrayed in Arthur's voice as well as the guilt in John's voice.

Oh man , the way throughout the episode John is kinda walking on eggshells because of his guilt for hurting his friend?

The way he wants Arthur to still feel in control of his body because he knows that's Arthurs fear and he used it against him?

The fucking genuine fear of a god damned owl, the way Arthur still tries to ease John's paranoia and even still calls him his friend?

But episode 43 is the real kick in the chest. Everything about that episode is......well, a lot.

I mean where do I even start?

The witch KILLING Arthur and stuffing maggots in him?

John's horrible gut wrenching cry at having to watch Arthur die and being able to do nothing?

The way he's filled with so much anguish he manifests out of his body?

The conversation between John and the Witch, the way he admits Arthur is what gave him hope?

Fuck dude, I could listen to this episode a thousand times and still be completely floored. The music, the voice acting .....god all of it is so fucking good.

I think what makes Malevolent so enjoyable to me is that I can go back and relisten to older episodes to rekindle my love for the show.

I always manage to notice something new or I find that an older episode may have answers for what happens in newer episodes.

I don't often find myself listening to podcasts more than once. It's just not something I normally enjoy, Malevolent changed that for me.

It's just a really good podcast and I'm so excited to see where the story goes from here.

Tldr: I wanna chew on John Malevolent Doe and squeeze Arthur until he pops like a water balloon.

[sumire-no-nikki]

Feb Reads, March Hopes

It feels as if I have stepped over a threshold.

Captured in these photos are small glimpses of a February savored. Dinners were mostly hot pots born out of desperation to cling onto the fleeting cold, knowing it will soon be too warm for it. From the dining room I watched the sun bleed red-orange, the sun setting later and later as each day passed.

Every year February thaws and a bare March follows. The windows remain open for longer periods of time, birdsong growing louder outside. Nothing is more regular than that. Yet it catches me unaware, without fail. I go to bed at the end of February and open my eyes to a new world as the calendar flips to a new month. I am writing this on my dining table on a slow Saturday and I am filled with sighs.

Truth is, I feel like the spring and summer months require so much of me. It’s too noisy, too crowded. While I love seeing the green and feeling the warmth on my bare skin, I’m a little possessive of the colder months. In the end I am most myself when it's gray outside and there is a storm brewing in the sky. I feel free to roam when I am invisible and the land asks nothing of me. But the time has come to relinquish my Winter solitude and I must now give some of myself to the Earth again. Here I am reluctantly facing March, daring to be optimistic but remaining cautious. I look at myself in the mirror and ask myself: what will grow in my garden this year? What will I sow? In what way will I bloom into change?

That all sounds melancholy, but really February was a good month, and March holds important events that will open possibilities for me. I am excited in a lot of ways though equally anxious because, well, that is just the way I am.

Now, indulge me. I have a lot to say about the books I read this month!!

1. The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

I devoured this one. It’s my friend H’s favorite book plus I read Circe some years ago so I had high expectations. And wow, I was absolutely floored. I listened to the first half while cleaning the house. I was making my way downstairs when I got to the part where P and A finally confess to each other and I literally had to stop and grasp the bannister. I was so moved by this book I was practically doubled over in pain by the time I got to the end. Such love!! The novel is a celebration of words, honestly. You can feel every brushstroke on the literary canvas with each word—the impasto, the contrast, the movement. Every feeling is so vivid. I’m officially a fan of Madeline Miller. I’m just in awe.

2. Water - John Boyne

This is the second book of Boyne that I’ve read and I’m proud to say he is officially now a member of my favorite authors club. This novel, aptly titled Water, is absolutely gut wrenching in the same way waves take centuries to carve out a cave into a cliff. By that I mean it’s atmospheric, slow, subtle. But it is also relentless and powerful. This book took my breath away despite being rather short.

After finishing this book I went online to look up more of Boyne’s work and discovered that Water is a part of “The Elements” quartet series. The new installment called “Earth” is coming out soon and I’m excited to have a new series to anticipate in the coming years! Having read Water and knowing it’ll be a quartet, I can’t help but compare it to the “Seasonal Quartet” series by Ali Smith. I have a thing for quartets, alright. There’s something about a thematic and symbolic collection of stories. It’s so ripe with imagery and it gets my mind sprinting with ideas, especially if it’s tied to nature like Boyne and Smith’s respective quartets are. I will say that even with just one book out of the planned quartet, John Boyne’s is more approachable than Ali Smith. I find it difficult to suggest Ali Smith to people in my life because she requires a lot of effort and time. Both quartets deal with contemporary injustices and complex societal issues in their own way, but I find Boyne’s attempt at this a little more accessible. Highly recommend this one!

3. Divine Rivals - Rebecca Ross

An out of my comfort zone pick as it’s YA, fantasy and romance—the three of the four genres I struggle with (the fourth one being sci-fi). But Rebecca Ross is the one author I trust when it comes to fantasy, and she has never let me down.

I associate a lot of good memories and feelings with Rebecca Ross books. Some years ago, I was living in the south and frequented this particular indie bookshop in the historic district. One Sunday, I was browsing the fantasy section of that bookshop, just because I had nothing better to do. My eyes landed on a book called “Sisters of Sword and Song,” which is one of the few in that section that wasn’t all black with a jagged angsty font on it. The blurb was intriguing enough, I read the first two pages and found it pleasant, so I purchased it. I bid the bookstore cats goodbye and drove home to enjoy it. Sure enough, when I got back to my apartment, the book sucked me in. It’s a fantasy world but the aesthetic and world building is heavily rooted in Ancient Greece so my imagination went wild reading it. I remember really enjoying the book and making a mental note to read more Rebecca Ross. That was some years back when she only had three books out. Now it seems she has become more popular with eight books under her belt.

Going into this new duology of her I must admit I had quite the expectation. But I am happy to say that the verdict on Divine Rivals is: it’s great. I was not disappointed at all. I was hooked within the first twenty pages! The romance got a tad too cheesy and sweet near the end but I enjoyed the characters a lot. I’m still reeling from the slow burn, enemies-to-lovers feast I had last year from The Mirror Visitor series by Christelle Dabos. Divine Rivals has allowed me to keep that enjoyment going with Iris and Roman. I’m going to read the sequel to it this month and see what I feel about the duology as whole. But for now, I will say I enjoyed it!

4. The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood

The fourth and final book of February is a novel by Bryn Greenwood called "The Reckless Oath We Made." I’ve read a Bryn Greenwood book before, a controversial book titled "All The Ugly and Wonderful Things" that I randomly picked from the book section of a Target. I enjoyed that book a lot actually and it’s a good example of why imposing moral judgements on an author and policing the events in a fictional work will corrode general literacy. I won’t go into it here because that’s a topic for a different (lengthy) post. For now I will say that "The Reckless Oath We Made" is great and as expected from a daring writer like Greenwood. Not as compelling as her preceding work, but this one is just as intellectually stimulating. I find literature that combines unlikely pairings to be so meaty. I like the feeling of being tested, learning new ways to empathize and understand. This book did just that by presenting characters that have aspects that aren’t socially easy to digest. But most importantly, the book did not require them to become “normal” in the end and in doing so demonstrates the radical power of acceptance. I thoroughly enjoyed this read.

If you couldn’t tell yet, I’m really happy with my reads this month. I’m not the type to be strict about what book I want to read next. (Odd, now that I think about it, because I’m as Type A as it gets on just about everything else.) When it comes to reading, I prefer to go with my mood. At any rate I have a small pile of books next to my reading chair so one of those will be the lucky book.

I’ve written quite a bit, haven’t I? I’m waiting for lunch to finish reheating (it’s just leftover Japanese cream stew). I say lunch but it’s closer to an early supper at this point. I spent most of the morning cleaning the house and playing with my cats. As for tomorrow, I have nothing planned for once so I think I will uncover the backyard furniture and give my bike a tuneup in preparation for Spring. Sometime next week, whenever it’s sunny enough, I will ride my bike to an Edeka and pick up some tulips and Roggenbrot. I haven’t done that in a while. Oh, the new Faye Webster album came out yesterday so I’m going to give that a full listen (and a couple of repeats if I’m honest because I love her, haha).

For now I leave you with some savory dango I made some days ago. (It was a bit chewy and needed a bit more kneading. I’ll make them better next time!) Plus, a song by my favorite artist, Siv Jakobsen. It’s from her latest album, Gardening, and was the lead single. It's a song that, at least to me, represents a bittersweet Spring. The album came out last year, but this song itself was released in April(?) of 2022! How bizarre. I swear it doesn’t feel like two years ago.

Anyway, I’ve already mentioned earlier that March is a month that will decide certain changes for me for reasons I do not want to disclose yet because I feel like I might jinx it. But I hope that the next time I write, it will be filled with good news and anticipation. My fingers are crossed!

Cheerio!

P.S.: I've just realized that every single photo I’ve taken and posted of me walking consists of a long skirt and a pair of DMs. I swear I’m capable of wearing other clothing and shoes lol, this is just, evidently, my go-to getup. It doesn’t have to say anything about me, but I’m the type to wonder anyway!

[littlemisskittentoes]

Weekend WIP Game

holy guacamole, so many of you tagged me. i appreciate you all so much @affectionatelyrs @@read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @daisymae-12

Rules: List your WIPs (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

WIP List- this has my little brain blasts, ones with actual words, and ones still living in the realm of brainstorming

it always leads to you (in my home town) -- childhood friends au/ 'tis the damn season au

don't you call him baby-- second chance romance/kensington divergence au

tell me anything you like (except for goodbye)-- assassination attempt au

5+1 alcholic alex fic

Threesgiving-- featuring dom!alex, needy henry, and pez as a guest star

college au/stoner alex oneshot

pet play oneshot-- featuring kitten!henry

local bdsm dungeon meet cute fic

aftercare oneshot

greek mythology au-- featuring alex as persephone, henry as hades, and david as cerberus

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

'tis the damn season au! there are so many vignettes i'm really excited about for this fic that i've already started penning out. it also has a fairly hefty outline

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up being the longest?

don't you call him baby. this one definitely has the biggest character arcs, and a timeline that needs to span a decent number of years.

4. Which WIP is your favorite to write/ the most enjoyable to write? Why?

i'm really excited to write the dungeon meet-cute. i have a sneaking suspicion this will end up being a series of oneshots. i'm just like, so in love with firstprince being involved in the community and caring about community etiquette and watching them learn. also, i'm so exciting for witty banter laced within their first negotiations with each other.

5. Which WIP do you find most intimidating to write? Why?

the assassination attempt au. this one is going to be HEAVY, chickens. there's a lot of emotional turmoil. it's also a bit of a character study with henry, while i typically tend to write from alex's pov. also slightly concerned about backing myself into a corner with medical inaccuracies

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about? Why?

don't you call him baby. it has a long timeline of events that i have to construct and stay true to. it also features henry absolutely decimating alex's heart. so i'm worried about being able to pull that off while still keeping the readers rooting for him to end up with alex.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

probably anything longer than a oneshot or a 5+1. i'm not super familiar with working on longer pieces and want to make sure they won't be coming across as boring or poor quality.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

greek mythology au, which breaks my heart. i love the concept, but don't know i'll ever have enough brain hatching to let it come to fruition

9. Which WIP has your favorite OC? Tell us about them

don't you call him baby will feature alex having a boyfriend named Noah for a portion of the story! Noah is meant to be someone we know isn't going to end up with alex. but we still genuinely like him. he's kind, he's supportive, he cares deeply about alex. he's honestly a bit of a golden retriever.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Threesgiving baby!

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

assassination attempt au. there's a lot of hurt and emotional turmoil from a lot of our favorite characters. we see June, Zahra, Ellen, Oscar, and Henry really struggling. and there won't be much comfort.

my goal for this fic is for it to be a bit of a gut-wrenching read, a go to 'i need to read something to make me cry' fic. but edged with a hint of hope

12. Which WIP has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

i hope it'll be either the assassination attempt au, or the 5+1 alcoholic alex fic. both depend pretty intensely on introspection and living in a character's head

13. Which WIP has the best setting (in your humble opinion)?

dungeon meet-cute. gotta love a local dungeon as the staging for a fic

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

i'd say probably don't you call him baby. i've worked pretty hard to try to nail down a rough timeline for it, which has seemed like a lot more work than just sitting and hammering out writing scenes for me

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for?

'tis the damn season au. i have so many cute vignettes for it. i'm gonna hate myself if it doesn't string together well

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

not so far! but i do daydream about them a lot. i'll brainstorm vignettes for wips and let them play in my head as a little movie during mundane life things

17. Do any of your WIPs have any particular complexities that your other fics don't?

the assassination attempt au barely has alex in it. for the vast VAST majority of the fic, alex will be in surgery or still unconscious recovery. it depends SO heavily on the other characters. that fic also demands a hospital setting, and medical information that i've got to do some deeper research for

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humor?

funny you ask, i'm actually atrocious at writing humor and try to avoid it like the plague. but i'm hoping the aftercare oneshot has a special sense of levity and sweetness. and the dungeon meet-cute is going to aim for some funny banter

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

the assassination attempt au dives into a lot of characters! it is intimidating haha. more than anything i'm just nervous about writing any of the characters that i love so much in a way that doesn't feel authentic

20. Tell us something we don't know about one or more of your WIPs

don't you call him baby will showcase alex deciding to get sober early into the fic, and will include david playing matchmaker!

it always leads to you (in my hometown) reunites henry and alex through pez and a dairy aisle. henry also has a tattoo in it.

__

honestly, i'm a bit late to the game and have no idea who hasn't already done this, but if you haven't consider this an open tag to do so!!

[fearowkenya]

Winds of Change

Chapter 4: Stemming the Tide

It’s hard to hold onto hope when panic and fear take root and start to spread, climbing the notches of his spine and weaving back and forth between his ribs. But Ryo knows now, that hope and fear can both exist at once—he’s seen it for himself.

The group witnesses something that looks a lot like a miracle, but it's still not enough to chase away everybody's fears. Ryo and Shuuji each find themselves with separate demons to battle as they resist the pull of despair.

ao3 link in source, extended end-of-chapter author's note below!

editing this chapter took WAY longer than usual. I do two proofreads per chapter before i post, and if i edit more than a couple of sentences at any point, i start the entire proofread over. needless to say, i did a LOT of editing and rereading before finally making it to my posting checklist. ultimately though im pretty happy with it. mostly im just so glad to have finally posted the scene that was jokingly titled "labramon the egg wizard" so i could talk about how much I enjoy the title "labramon the egg wizard". jokes that are for me

anyway, "labramon the egg wizard" is one of the first parts of this fic that i wrote! there's a skeletal outline of the events in that section in my replay notes, though a lot about that scene has changed since then. it was always going to be labramon who was gonna help out though! why labramon..? … … well she's a dog , and it made me go 'heheh' to think of her doing pointer behaviors. no other reason (:

i know we get renamon egg in moral, but i don't actually remember much of what that looked like because it lasted like 2 seconds. thats absolutely NOT what i wanted for shuuji - i wanted it to be a scene that completely bodies him, where hes got this unexpected second chance hovering just beyond his reach, but he has to confront exactly what he's done in order to get it. i dont remember a lot of 02, but that one episode where ken goes looking for wormmons egg has this very specific vibe where its like, "here's some hope for you when youre at your lowest but never forget that you seriously fucked it up". it was brutal but beautiful and then i cried a bunch i think. idk it was a long time ago. maybe im completely misremembering that scene, who can say. thats how it lives in my memories tho

in any case, i definitely wanted it to be from ryo's perspective for the same reason that the aftermath of wendimon was from his pov. he's so much more observant than shuuji, who would not take notice of what the others are doing and saying while he's in the middle of getting pingponged between hope and gut-wrenching remorse.

the middle section, titled in the draft as "mcfreakin losin it", was a lot of fun too! the Plan(tm) at the beginning was something i edited in pretty late in proofreading. having an itemized list like that might feel more like a "shuuji thing" than a "ryo thing", but i think ryo's active effort to take responsibility and try to help kunemon with what hes stressed about would lend to him trying to come up with something a little more concrete. unfortunately for ryo, he has no backup plan for when the first one is turned upside down, and we all know what happens when something catches him off guard lmao. it was actually really interesting to write ryo in a position where he's witnessing more or less what he himself is like when he shuts down. being the one who has to snap shuuji out of this state has ryo realizing that this is what takuma and kunemon have to deal with when he's the one freaking out. i think that's kinda fun.

the last section has what feels to me like the most editing. it really wasn't a section that i spent a lot of time fiddling with until now because the bulk of it was quoting or paraphrasing existing dialogue from the start of part 6 for context, then diverging into what that scene looks like in a world where lopmon isn't around to be unable to explain what happened. like i said on ao3, as i was reading over the canon dialogue in truthful for reference, i realized i really just…didn't like it much. the argument escalates and de-escalates several times but never to a degree that feels all that extreme, and ends up feeling like it's just dragging out for no reason. people make their points at times that feel WEIRD, particularly ryo. lemme see if i can explain this.

so ryo doesnt say this til the latter half of this argument, and i HATED THAT because it's like… after everything he's been through with kunemon, it doesn't feel right that he's having those doubts. but i thought about it and i actually think it makes sense for him to have a momentary lapse where he slips back into old habits - letting fear take over and pushing away anything and anyone that has even the slightest chance of hurting him. he spent a LOT of time in that mindset, and even though he's working on reversing it, it's not gonna happen in a day. that said… the placement of ryo's doubts in the canon dialogue still feels super weird. i think it makes a lot more sense for him to panic at the very beginning of this argument, and then calm down as he remembers how solid his bond with kunemon is before sticking up for the digimon a little more aggressively. it just feels so passive in-canon when i think he would have taken a much more active role in defending falcomon and the others once 1) he remembers the context surrounding what happened in the waterway, and 2) he's reminded of how kunemon has helped him change.

i know some of the weird pacing of this dialogue is because the player needs to have input at some point, but i think takuma could've been much more powerless during this argument - the game has no problem taking away agency, since saving ryo is the only thing that will save shuuji, no matter what the player does. maybe im nitpicking, idk.

regardless, minoru's dialogue makes the most sense, but i still think it could have been condensed into a much sharper and more sudden escalation. it keeps being like "(minoru voice) IM MAD IM MAD" "(takuma voice) chill" "(minoru voice) oops sorry. … … … IM MAD IM MAD IM MAD" "(takuma voice) calm down" "(minoru voice) oops. … … … IM MAD IM MAD" etc etc etc. it just made the argument feel weak and drawn-out instead of intense and explosive.

i did keep some of it though! i thought that minoru's paranoia and sudden fear of trusting his partner was pretty compelling, which is why i kept those doubts in and quoted the lines about him wanting falcomon to prove his loyalty.

i chose those lines specifically because they say a LOT about minoru once you connect this argument with what i think is the root of his insecurities - his parents' divorce.

it's funny because as far as im aware, The Divorce doesn't even come up unless you choose an INCORRECT ANSWER in an OPTIONAL affinity event with minoru. im not 100% sure thats the only mention though! im currently at pt8 of my replay where the goal is to see every bit of truthful route dialogue possible. if it comes up in other routes, i managed to miss it lmao. anyway, because of that, for the longest time i thought The Divorce was just a popular headcanon, and didn't actually see that dialogue until recently. but as soon as i did i started looking at the stuff he does and says through the lens of somebody who was affected extremely poorly by his parents divorce, and it contextualized A LOT for me. suddenly the way he reacts in pt 6 makes so much sense, because imo falcomon turning around and killing him isn't his only concern: he's also terrified that he was vulnerable in front of someone who doesn't actually care.

pre-game minoru lacks a support system, and is afraid to rely on a new one. im not going to go on about it for too long because we'd be here all day, but im pretty sure that his parents divorce was MESSY, and he witnessed all of it. that same event where he mentions to takuma that his parents are divorced is also when he says that he doesn't think his mom has noticed that he's missing, even though at this point the kids believe that they've been gone for several days. he doesn't see his mother as support because she's too busy working, and since he doesn't even know where his father currently lives, clearly he doesnt get much if any support from his dad. the difficulty minoru has in shedding the goofy exterior and being genuine and vulnerable in front of people makes me think that he never found a support system to replace the one that he watched crumble in realtime when his parents split.

prior to part 6, we can assume that minoru started to see falcomon as someone that he could allow to see his insecurities. i also believe that minoru understood that shuuji and lopmon's relationship was supposed to look a lot like his and falcomon's, or like anybody else and their partner's. minoru could see lopmon trying to be supportive, so the dysfunction only seemed like it was on shuuji's end. so when lopmon flies off the handle and tries to murder shuuji, one of the things that minoru gets from it is that, no, actually, the trust and support that the digimon have for their partners is NOT unconditional. i think that watching this happen looks exactly like how it felt when the support system he'd had in his parents completely fell apart, except the lopmon situation comes with a fun extra "I'm going to kill you" sort of vibe that tells minoru that his relationship with falcomon is just not safe.

or worse, maybe that support system was never real in the first place. what if there was something darker beneath the surface that he just couldn't see?

anyway.

now, as dracmon says, all we gotta do is hurry up and wait. well. you do. i dont, im gonna be editing chapter 5 til the cows come home. im getting the distinct impression that it's gonna require even more reworking than this chapter did.

but that's neither here nor there - id love to hear your Gamer Theories about what im cooking up. there are a few things that are still going unaddressed after four chapters, and i wonder how much of it can be puzzled out based on what i've said so far. obviously im not able to see the story from a reader's perspective, so im not really able to gauge if the stuff that's being foreshadowed or otherwise implied is starting to become clearer. so please consider leaving a comment with what you think, or your favorite part or anything else that stood out to you! I'd much appreciate it. thank you for reading, and see you… mm… nnnnext…week…? ideally.

[shivasdarknight]

Hi, sorry for this but you are a writer, so umm.. I was hoping you could give me some tips/advice on how to write?

tbh the way I got into writing is a bit insane, but I do have some advice that can help. gonna put it under a cut just because it got kinda long

honest to god, one of the best pieces of advice is something you're already doing because reading can genuinely help you with becoming a better writer. stepping outside of your usual genres or authors can help expand your viewpoint and introduce you to more narrative styles so you can play around and see what works for you. eg. if you mostly read first person, give second person a shot. or if you're an omniscient third person, try limited third person. or even retrospective first person, because i often see people complain about first person pov when it's married with a present tense story. if you have a first person narrator talking about events in the past as if talking to you, or a journal it often takes an entirely different angle and it's something I've played with in Homestuck fics because that fandom tends to be more open to narrative experimentation. Writing is honestly a lot of looking at stuff you like (much like art) and smooshing it all together. Personally, I've gotten a lot of my writing style from stuff like The Locked Tomb, admittedly Lovecraft was foundational (but this is a great example of why to always remain critical considering his bullshit), so was Homestuck and Rick Riordan's stuff. I'm never trying to copy them wholesale, but I am looking at aspects I like - such as Riordan's humor intertwining with the narrative and narration, or the deeply unreliable narrators that Muir writes, or even how Homestuck balances purple prose with gut wrenching conciseness when it counts. A lot of modern day fast food fiction takes out a lot of the stuff that actually builds a story - pacing, playing with narration and technical writing - so you need to be conscious of what you're looking for in things. Often more established authors get to do weirder stuff than new authors, but don't discredit new ones because that would be leaving out folks like Xiran Jay Zhao and their phenomenal prose.

Another thing that helps greatly is reading writing critique. Video essays on books or even more critical thought pieces on writing, tropes, etc. can help you learn more about why something works. Lots of different channels on YouTube dedicated to dissecting media, absolutely recommend stuff like Hello Future Me, Overly Sarcastic Productions (real world ties + mythology, great basis to build things on), Zoe Bee (writer + commentary), Nerdwriter1 (media analysis + commentary), Just Write, and Tale Foundry. For adjacent suggestions that can help build up alternate perspectives that aren't directly about writing but are about critical thinking with stories (which is frankly an important skill to have), I definitely recommend Princess Weekes, Accented Cinema, Now You See It, Dominic Noble, The Storyteller, and Pop Culture Detective. A lot of this is discussing film (save Dominic Noble, who also talks about books a Lot), but the core essence of storytelling is helpful regardless of what angle it comes in - be it video game, movie, tv, or book reviews and analyses.

Actual writing. Varies on the person on if they do outlines or not and how, but I still recommend trying to do an outline when you're first starting out. One habit to immediately knock yourself out of is writing things chronologically. If you're working on a big piece and have more energy to write something in the middle? Put that in a new doc and leave a placeholder for where you're at. Legitimately, getting words on the paper is more important than those words being good. Because you can always come back and edit things to make sense.

Always edit what you write. I hate the "no beta we die like real men" attitude because people will dunk on editing but then praise stories for having "firm and satisfying" connections which can only really be built through editing. Your first draft is your rough idea. Your second one is when you read through and have it make sense. Three is making that make sense, and maybe 4 is more just grammar and spelling errors. Edit as many times necessary to make sure you like it.

Always work in broad strokes, then move in finer like with anything. Do a general idea for a story, then your main story beats, then how you connect them together, and then the nitty gritty of each. Keep lots of notes - do not rely on your head solely for everything - and just also be willing to let things go if they change.

What I tend to do when I write is I want a good flow. I often get that from reading my writing out loud to hear how it sounds, but I'm looking for a good beat to read along. Because even if the sentence is grammatically correct and structurally sound, it may not be very interesting to read. Like you could say someone feigned a polite expression to not let the other person know that they didn't feel comfortable with a topic, or you could go the angle I went with recently of "she painted herself an interested expression to wear as dread began to gnaw at her gut." Sometimes the more colorful or out there the language is, the better it sounds when you read it. Like instead of saying "that's just how things go for them" you could say, "but Fate had a funny way of making her disdain known for (X character)". And this is where reading other peoples' work comes in real handy because you can get a lot of examples of how people write things.

I also try and reflect themes of the story into the writing itself, like this section of a draft:

Still nothing.  Seemed he wasn’t going to bother with a glass, instead just ripping the top off of some bottle of gin and tipping it back with little regard for himself. Still that chronometer ticked on; still that taught tension like another arrow had been drawn.  A million and more things flooded Ysayle’s mind, itching to loose them at Estinien, yet found herself stuck in indecision as she stared daggers into him - ever her opposite as he just seemed despondent.  The gin bottle hit the extended shelf loudly; one hand a fist around the bottle, the other balled up on the surface - knuckles as white as bone. Still, Estinien said naught. Still, the chronometer ticked on. Still, Ysayle’s heart roared in her ears - poisonous words damming up her throat.

The theme of this story is avoiding the mistakes of the past. How things often can wind up cyclical, and the goal is to break from those cycles and repeats. So naturally, several points of the narration itself repeat itself. This isn't standard writing style, but it gets that point across by repeating "Still" as the scene crawls on. I also use a lot of alliteration in my writing because I personally find it fun? So "a maddening matter made most malign", for example.

It also helps to change up how you write or what descriptors you use based on the character whose head you're in, even if it's third person. Third person can have a voice and I often use it to speak aloud a character's thoughts instead of relying on italicized dialogue-thoughts. It makes the dialogue-thoughts appearing hit more when they do instead of just having to be subjected to internal ramblings constantly. Like in this fic I just published:

“...Can we talk about it on the morn?” “What for?” You don’t know what it is you ask of me. “Tired,” Estinien said with a shrug. “We’ve morning patrol, remember?”

Compared to this fic:

“Yes, confusingly.”  Her tone was flat as she leaned once again on Surkukteni’s shoulder, thankfully on the uninjured side.  “I fear I may have been wrong, though I truly doubt it.  To deny me twice, then throw a fit?  I wonder — why didn’t you go through with it?” Not even Surkukteni had that answer.  For the umpteenth time during that conversation, she refused to look at Her Darkness.  That desire — twisted and poisoned as it was — was one that still surfaced from time to time, yet like clockwork made her ill and was banished from her thoughts.  Why was that?  She felt scorned back then, wishing the universe would correct this error in sparing him but taking Ysayle — but was she not the one who helped save him?  Who helped tear those eyes from his armor?  She easily could — and had previously — bluffed that it was to destroy the eyes and be rid of the threat, but given her hesitancy now? Why?

All of Surkukteni's thoughts are condensed into the narration so that I can separate out her thought dialogue from idle musings since she - specifically - has a connection with something that can talk telepathically. This thing comments on the literal narration of the story, so when she's directly addressing this thing it's thought-dialogue. But her actual thoughts become narration to avoid spending too much time with that, as I find it's better used sparingly.

Motivation for writing is probably the hardest thing, and best I can advise is to get really into critiquing the stuff you like because you wind up finding a lot of material in fix-it stuff, or just wanting to see more of stuff like you. It's part of what drives my xiv stuff due to how they treat female characters, and I really just wanna see more sapphic bi4bi. So considering it's something I've been stuck in for a very long time now and really like the ambient lore and wish it would do better, it's fueling my desire to write. And from there, there are so many other angles to take - like building ocs, building lore. Finding a sandbox is genuinely one of the best ways to do it. Again, like. You'd be surprised at how much is there because of spite. LOTR has Eowyn because Tolkien didn't like that the "can be killed by no man" thing in Macbeth was resolved with a character born by c-section, so he instead wrote Eowyn, the woman who killed the Witch-King of Angmar. C.S. Lewis didn't like the fact that Tolkien believed that modern technology - or slightly less modern technology - didn't believe in fantasy and he explicitly cited lampposts. And this is why there's just a random light post in the middle of nowhere in the Narnia books.

Critique is good and healthy. I'm critical with the stuff I like and my own things so I can work on them and myself. It's fine to like something that you don't wholly agree with, especially if you're using it to inform how you build on it or build your own things. Like I dunno, I looked at Dante from Devil May Cry and went "what if he was trans" and now I've got Rhombi, a character who has stepped really far away from the OG Dante mould, but you can still see hints of it as I used what I wanted to see out of DMC to build this bisexual disaster of a guy. I was disappointed by Elsword not really committing to some of their character concepts, so I kinda just took Eve (and admittedly Add) and made them into Celes and Neilos and took them to their logical conclusions. All three of them were originally fantrolls at some point, so most of the heavy lifting was done when I was back in Homestuck and all I had to do was scrub the barcodes off of them to build them up in an original verse.

Chemistry is also crucial. If characters aren't vibing, move on. Do not force it. Good chemistry can save a bad story (eg. FFXV) and bad chemistry can ruin a good story. Often it's the characters that drive a story so you need to do a lot of plotting and planning. Most writing is honestly just planning before putting the words down.

And I'm very much so rambling by now but my main points are these (+ others I'm realizing while typing):

Plot a Lot and keep lots of notes, and also organize those notes. The contents don't have to be pretty, but you'll thank yourself in advance if you at least sort them by core idea

Getting words down is more important than getting them down correctly. You can always come back and edit it when you have an idea of how to make it work

You can always place a [insert scene here] tag so you can keep your flow and don't get caught on something.

You also don't have to write chronologically - you wanna write the big confession scene before the intro? do it! just jump right into it!

also don't be afraid to delete stuff or remove it from your draft. save things for later to see if they work elsewhere, because maybe it could be a better spinoff.

dont listen to the advice of "if it really matters, you'll remember it in the morning" that advice was given by neurotypicals who don't have memory issues. make notes of EVERYTHING and then delete the ones that don't work

sometimes writing by hand vs computer can really make a difference in how you think. handwriting is slower and makes you think about stuff, so you may want to keep journals for random snippets or ideas like how doodling is good for building up your habit of drawing

Outlines can help but how you outline is up to you. Try a few styles out and go with what works best.

I cannot stress enough that having something like a marker board to write out your broad stroke story ideas is really really nice

Broad strokes first, then narrow it further and further down. Don't get wrapped up in the nitty gritty details

Chemistry is crucial and can often save a piece you're not fully feeling.

Read your stuff out loud while editing because it can help point out stuff that's not jiving! I find it helps a lot with dialogue

Read a lot. Listen to critique. Be more critical. Also don't limit your idea of stories to just books - expand the media you consume and you'll find really interesting stories that can help with yours

Don't be afraid to use tropes, but also don't super rely on them to where you're just checking off boxes instead of coming up with natural scenarios built on chemistry (eg. having the nerdy goth girl is fine, but the way the trope ends in most media ("fixing" her or just having her be a quirky cynical critic) may not fit with your story and it may be better to see how the story plays out rather than forcing it into something it's not)

Iron Widow is a good example here: the relationship between Zetian and Yizhi is pre-established and comes off as sort of "boy next door" vibes, or at least the very dedicated childhood friend. It quickly becomes apparent that he's as much a co-conspirator in her plans as Shimin is. The guy can be ruthless when given the chance, and that's how Yizhi goes beyond the initial trope and defines himself outside of it. Same with the contextualization of Shimin's seeming "aggression" as the "bad boy" and figuring out where that problem/persona actually stems from, and then the shift of viewing it as less aggression and more retaliation and self preservation.

Find something you do really want to write about, like filling a void in a piece of media you like or doing a take on media that made you mad or disappointed. Jane Eyre is technically fanfiction because the author wanted to see more of Jane and didn't get that. The Divine Comedy is self insert fanfiction of Dante Alighieri as he does worldbuilding with Christian mythos regarding heaven and hell. The Riordan verse is his interest in mythology crossed with a desire to give his son a protag that was like him (specifically ADHD and dyslexic), which then became wanting to let kids see themselves in the different halfbloods in the series.

There's a lot of ways you can get started writing, but the best way is to just write goofy stuff for yourself. Get out stuff that may look bad at first, but you go back and read it and critique it. Just getting yourself into the habit of writing helps a lot, because again: it matters less about the quality, and more getting it on the page and actually having something. You can always fine-tune writing, after all.

My first FFXIV fic isn't actually even published. It was just me writing something rambly about my Warrior of Light when I was starting to figure her character out. It looks nothing like what I'm doing now in part because that fanfiction became a launching point for me to work on others. I've got a lot of drafts that will never see the light of day because these were proto-concepts that became the stuff I wound up publishing. It's fine to have drafts that remain drafts because you can take that as practice, and practice is good. Anything that you write has value because you can use it to let your technical writing skills mature.

Also, don't be afraid to look for help. There are beta services on tumblr (or at least used to be when I was a teenager), plenty of writing guides or places set up to ask questions, plenty of youtubers that give prompts for you to work with. The hardest part is always getting started. But once you get past the awkwardness of the start, everything just falls into place and gets easier the longer you go at it.

You definitely have the desire for it because I've seen your very deep love of literature through the Bi-Library, so you can definitely become a strong writer if you put your mind to it 🫶 Find something to fix or address, and that usually is what gets the ball rolling. Worldbuilding is fun and can lead to something, but you can't have a well built world without a story to explore it.

Characters drive story, story is how you explore themes and the world itself, and the world itself is built on your experiences and interests. Embrace the fact that this is coming from your lens and experiences, because no media is truly void of the author and its other creators. Embrace that fact and use it as an extension of yourself. But really, just write. Literally anything. Just get into the habit of writing, and it'll progress from there!

[helsingvania]

I want bitches to know that whenever i think about star wars rebels it brings me to the verge of tears. Like this series isn't a tie in like clone wars was, it was an aftermath. This series was picking up the pieces of the clone wars and what both sides stood for in the face of the empire by a completely new generation of people.

We come to know and adore all of the members of the ghost and understand their personal traveisties. Hera and chopper with the loss of her childhood, Kanan and Zeb and the lost of their home and everything they knew, Sabine and Ezra with the sins of their parents they have to live with. All of these characters have their own problems and only ever find comfort and safetey with eachother because no one else knows what they feel.

And since they’re so sprated from the movies, we don't know rheir fate, we don't know what they'll leave behind. We watch these characters grow and we cannot predict their deaths and legacies, we're forced to sit and watch them with the feeling of uncertainty. We sit and greve with these characters because we have become one with this space family fighting facism.

Everywhere you look in this series is monuments to a fallen republic. We're forced to sit here and stare at it as these old bases and facilities are from a bygon era that at one point in time we come to find as home and comforting with the clone wars series taking place in places like these. Its all remains forgotten, unappreciated, abandoned, and utterly in ruins much like the troops who ran them.

The last battle makes me want to cry seeing the remains of the droid army making up eith the clones when they realized that neither of them won the war. Both of them are equally sentient and used for nothing but a war that neither of them would've ever won. Both of them trying to fight for something that seems right (separatists wanting better representation, and the republic not wanting the galaxy to dissolve into conflciting governments) but both sides equally become corrupted by the interests of a single man.

For something so small, vader and a ahsoka is a gut punch for me. We see this build up for the entire season and ends with one of the most gut wrenching lines (I WON'T LEAVE YOU, NOT THIS TIME!). Its extremely departed from the plot and achives so kany feels in soo little time i love it and hate it at the same time.

Bro i can't even get into farewell and homecoming without shedding tears im not touching that.

BUUUT i can talk about maul and his end. Twin suns is easily a favorite episode especially with the kenobi series and the journals from the 2015 star wars series. I definitely think maul is used too much in this post clone wars era of star wars media, but none of them can really beat out how rebels worked with him and gave him a meaningful narrative death. Like his journey of hatred and revenge beginning where it ends on tatooine is just poetic writing. How hes alway attach to his past and then subsequently gets beaten after trying the same move he tried doing to qui-gon, but outwitten by obi-wan. By this time Obi-Wan has moved on from his guilt and past regarding anakin and the purge, maul hasn't and thats how he failed.

Also the line about luke being the avenger for those used by Palpatine, both jedi and sith alike also makes me want to cry. Like so many people who learned about this dumbass kid had so much faith and hope in him that he'll do the right thing in the end makes the movies and comics hurt more

This show brings up so much shit from the events of mortis, the horror of the empire, the foundings of a rebellion and how to truly make a stance and what it takes, the importance of trust and faith in others, and just so much more i just don't wanna shed tears on my keyboard rn

If you made it this far...thanks i guess

[redwineauntie]

i think if a bitch constantly had morality, it would be a boring life.

i think if a bitch had no morality, it would be an unsustainable life.

i run the chance of running into people i knew from the past, only to act like i don’t know them out of fear that they purposely don’t know me back. I cross paths with people that did me dirty and speak a sharpened tongue that has painfully been sliced by the words of time, unhealed childhoods, and pettiness. when i go to art events or galleries, i observe. observe. for the sole purpose of weeding out who isn’t allowed to know me. and when they do, i get nervous. of course, i get nervous. just because I’m an immoral bitch doesn’t mean i can’t feel vulnerable in some sort of way.

however, upon knowing people, i run the risk of baring my soul; something that i’ve only reserved for the quiet, the loved, and the reserved. can these people sense that i have anger issues? do they know that, although I’m a thriver, i still stash a bit of my survival mode for when i need it, for when times are dire and trying? do they know that I’ve hurt people that i’ve loved, time and time again? that i’m manipulative, selfish and self-serving and have an ego? do they know that if they ever made a bad joke in front of me before 2020, i would’ve laughed just to be in their good graces? now i just stand there, laughter sometimes delayed, or i laugh in my head because my gummy smile is the one thing that i think about the most. or not laugh at all. do they know that i’ve blacked out in the midst of rage? beaten death a couple times? have beaten people up to the point where i drew blood? lost a loved one because of money? do they know i’m as toxic as they come and as fluid as they go? i pray they don’t know i’m violent. that i support rage and violence from women and femmes. that i love violent women.

i hope they know that i’m trying. that i’m trying not to make excuses anymore. that i am not reserving my peace, but rather reserving my anger for somebody who deserves it. i want them to know that i love being alone. I love going on my phone, turning my social media into a pinterest board. I hate loud sounds, have a fear of throwing up, and i’m nit-picky about the food i eat, yet i have a broad palate. i encourage everybody to scream a deep guttural scream from the bottoms of their ass, so loud and so gut wrenching that it sounds like every sobbing mother in their bloodline a thousand times over. i want them to know i love red wine, love it actually. it’s the only type of alcohol i can drink in a small quantity and it will get me as as tipsy as a person with two left feet. i’m actually a great dancer in my kitchen alone, and i have books in my bedroom that i’ve gotten but never read. i’m due for a checkup at the doctor’s, and my hair is long and black-brunette due to the beaming sun and the intense moon. I’ve been in love more times than I can count, but have ever only been in 2 serious relationships. every time it rains, i always tell myself i need to bring an umbrella i never end up doing that. Even if it does rain, i let it wash me, and I somehow never end up getting sick from it. I’ve been talking to my ancestors, praying that i don’t make my intrusive thoughts become a reality. i cry. a lot. well at least as of recently. the last time i cried was because i got into a fight with the one person i loved the most. and because of unnecessarily mean people.

although my moral ground is shaky, and my past life has not been so tender on me, and that i’ve had to lose many times before i actually won, and lost people that were meant to be lost and stay lost in favour of me, and that i had to be a bitch to stay soft… i’m only immoral when I need to be. typically in a world where they expect you to stay soft and peaceful in the face of evil, disturbing, unfiltered violence that infringes on the rights of our bodily autonomy. You see the videos of fathers lunging after their daughter’s rapists in court. or stories of women killing their abusers as a final act of survival. or even women on social media not giving the benefit of the doubt anymore. not on dates, on social media, in uber rides, at a guy’s place, in the dark, not even in broad daylight. i plead for women to not choose the former to keep the peace, but the latter to ensure that they’re still alive. and if you don’t wanna be alive, please make sure that death is yours, that nobody else other than you makes that decision for you. it’s exhausting having to think of every single thing possible in order to stay alive when we are controlled by the very hands that can’t keep to themselves. I know. But I plead. I beg. swing if you have to. kill if you need to. hurt if you need to. cry, but only if you need to. and never in front of them. god knows never in front of them.

although i am not morally sound, my morality still exists but only for the disparaged. the ignored. the truly misunderstood ones. The ones who are kind, not nice. not the ones whose feminism is select. i do it for those that are made of quality and not the contemporary. not the whites nor the ignorant. not the bitches that proudly proclaim that they’re “too pretty to fight”. not the bitches that are sex-crazy or boy-obsessed, that participate in hustle culture, that align with the model minority. not the ones that have fucked all of their friends and still have a direct line of contact with them. not the ones that have hurt me and have resorted to spirituality and astrology as a last resort to atone for their shitty ass excuse of an existence. not the ones that would rather bask in their pride than say sorry. not the ones that weaponize their identity to play victim. not the snarky ass bitches, the passive (aggressive) ass bitches. not for the bitches with those small, shitty ass red ink dragon tattoos. not for the homewreckers that let men pillow talk their way into their pussy. not for the people where their only skill is talking shit and wondering why they’re still lonely. and especially, not for the bitches that are mean to service workers for getting their food order wrong and berate them by haggling them for free food. and DEFINITELY not for the people that leave their friends at the club to get some sex and not get a text back the next morning. a shame, really. i do it for the bitches that have done nothing but exist as best as they can and try to morally stay afloat. even if it meant putting on a mean front towards people who are godawful at their core.

i haven’t been fully consumed by evil yet. i would like to give a toast to the nuanced person i’ve become, i wouldn’t want to change a thing. a toast, for these are the confessions i provide under the influence of an occasional red wine. but mostly when i’m sober. most importantly, when i’m sober.

- m, Xoxo.

[damien-mlm]

if you asked them, they'd deny it all

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT

HEAVY VENT, talking about some of my past mentions of child abuse, CSA, suicide and self harm I cannot stress this enough, do NOT read if you feel like you can't I will never hold it against you if you don't read this, I promise I just really need to get this out there

Not fiction, real life events

Let me preface this with the fact I've been trying to open up about myself, and I'm drunk at the moment

This is hideous, this is your last warning

Fuck, how should I even begin

There’s so much

Back in August, I first started to write out fiction as a coping mechanism

Making up angsty and gut-wrenching stories, putting my characters through hell

I put a little bit of me in each one of those

And I still haven’t told the whole story yet

Back then, I also said this

And it still stands

I’m tired of being tired

And I was almost gone in September

Only a handful of people know this, not even my parents know

Not that they would care enough to help, anyway

I’ve been on the edge of this cliff many times

Each time I was pulled away, either forcefully, or by sweet words that meant nothing in the end

Performative kindness, only meant to be seen by others, never to be actually executed when truly needed

I’m not worth their kindness, I never was

My whole existence was a whim

My mother wanted to get showered in praise and attention

My father wanted to prove himself as a man

That was it, that’s all they wanted

I was just a byproduct of it

And when it wasn’t what they thought it would be, they hated me for it

I had ruined their lives by existing, and they made sure I knew

What fucks me up the most is that, thanks to PTSD and C-PTSD, I barely remember anything

I just have bits and pieces, and they are all a fucking nightmare

It’s impossible for me to form a timeline of the events, it’s all jumbled and mixed together

In the two poems I wrote, I mentioned this

I wasn’t lying

And it fucks me up because I feel like I can’t even trust myself

The typical “Are you sure that’s how it happened?” “I don’t remember it like that” “Maybe you are misremembering things” get so much more painful because of this

No, I’m not sure

I don’t know anything

My life is a lie

But then, where do all the nightmares, all the flashbacks, come from?

Where do the scars come from?

Where does that involuntary fear response to their presence come from?

I’m so sorry

I dragged you all into this bullshit

I’m not special

I know I’m not the only one who’s suffering

I feel like I’m being selfish

I shouldn’t be here

I should’ve died back when I first tried to

13 years ago

That should’ve been it

So that nobody else had to witness this fucking wreck

I don’t even know why I’m around anymore

I said it was so that nobody would hurt over my departure, and that still stands

But maybe there’s something else?

I’m not sure if it’s spite, or hope

And I’m still afraid of actually telling what I do remember

I don’t want pity

I want understanding

I want to be loved and cared for

For who I am

For what I am

Not for who I was supposed to be

Not for what I was supposed to accomplish

To be loved for me

For being

I’ve been writing this for about an hour, and I've barely said anything at all

Don’t be scared now, I’m not ending myself tonight, I know I sound extremely ominous, but I promise you I won’t do that

I always say it’s a long story and I never actually tell it

I did mention I came to be as a whim

That wasn’t a lie

What’s baffling to me is how long it took me to actually find out

December 25th, 2018

I got to know the true reason why my parents had split up

I was 1 year old, so I had no notion of this, thank fucking god

But apparently, my mom couldn’t stand the fact my dad gave me, a baby who needed help to survive, more attention than her

So, she asked for a divorce and kept me

It sounds fucking ridiculous, I know

And I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t me

But I am me, and I know how much she loathed me for years

I just never knew why

Turns out it was just for being a human with needs

It made so much sense to me

And to my dad, well I ruined his marriage, I was the reason why the love of his life had left him

And he might deny it, but I know he still resents me for it

Everything about him tells me he does

Both of them placed the blame on me

Not only for this but for everything that came after it

It’s all my fault, my doing, my mistake

When my other relatives would whisper about them, it was my fault

I wasn’t a good kid

I cried too much, I was too loud

I was too dramatic

I was too much

And now I’m not enough

And I don’t think I’ll ever be

It’s hard to talk about this when it’s all mixed up

Most of it is gone

But I remember a few things

I remember my mom accidentally burning my arms with her cigs too many times for it to be accidental at all

At one point, I just stopped trying to get close to her

I remember my dad making fun of the way I cried, calling me a Disney princess in the way I sobbed as a kid

I remember this was in front of other adults too, whenever I went to him for comfort

I remember I grabbed a knife and slashed my bedsheets once; I was too small, and I didn’t know how to express my own anguish

And my mom made me sew it back up and use it still

I remember I moved the living room chairs to make a bed for my plush dog as a kid

And my mom woke up from her nap and was enraged by the mess I had done

She slapped me so hard I fell back, turning, and hit my head on the edge of the wall

I had a huge bruised bump on my forehead

“If anybody asks, you tripped” she said

She must have learned that from one of her boyfriends, and I know exactly which one

This man was so vile, I hope I never have to see his face in front of mine again

Because I’m still forced to see him now and then

Flashbacks are involuntary, after all

He was abusive towards us both

That sick piece of shit

He took my innocence away from me

Stole it away for reasons I still can’t understand

I’m sorry to be so crude about it

But there are certain positions I just cannot do

They just take me back to that moment

“There’s a big man behind me, doing this to me

And there is nothing I can do to stop him”

It is the best way I can describe it without actually saying it

First time I tried to tell my mom about this, she said

“Yeah, maybe”

That’s all

I mean, what did I even expect?

I can’t place dates, but I’m pretty sure all this happened between the ages of 7 and 10

I started hurting myself at 11, back then I was convinced I deserved the pain

I was a bad kid

I deserved it

I got found out at 12 and everything went to shit, as if it wasn’t enough already

I got sent to a psychiatrist, and the lad said I needed anti-depressants

My mother refused

She had a better idea

To avoid me cutting myself, she would strip every single ounce of privacy I had

No room I was in was to have its door closed

No, not even the bathroom

Specially the bathroom

She would stand on the doorway and watch me intently as I did what I had to do

And when I showered, the curtain had to remain open too

That’s not all, but it’s all I can say for now

I don’t have the strength to keep writing right now

I won’t be sleeping tonight; I opened a bottle of wine and I have to clean this fucking house before it’s too late

My dad will come over tomorrow around noon to check on my progress, he said so on a voice message

I wish I wasn’t here

I wish I wasn’t

[finclgicls]

cameron's arms grounded her. anchored her. they compressed her nerves and made her neurological response to the events stop. right as she was on the brink of a full-blown panic attack. the sob which overtook her as her trembling hands dropped the backpack and the papers to the ground was something she could not hold back. she was broken, feeling lost, gutted, parted, disoriented, confused, shattered, disconnected—and her reaction could only be described as gut-wrenching, primal.

her hands immediately sought tether on cam's arms, gripping there, fingers digging, though she didn't want to hurt her friend, she needed the connection, she needed to settle. all she could feel was pain, and she wanted desperately to feel numb. where is he? where is he? where is he? maggie mumbles between sobs. she wants answers, she needs to understand. she needs to prove her father didn't leave her. everyone left.

her mother days after she was born, only for her to find the woman had a family. her first girlfriend for someone she had met a lot less long. her friends distanced themselves because maggie was too much. her father simply disappeared. going into the catacombs one day and never out the next. she was used to being alone, to rely on herself, to want nothing from others, but cam was there. unwavering. she never left. she never distanced herself. she never asked her to stop. maggie felt fucked up. god—she loved her. she really did, in a way, she didn't want to confess afraid she would fuck up their friendship and while it was selfish that she really needed someone, she needed cam the most. she needed those grounding arms, that soothing voice, the concern, the care, she needed it all. which is why she'll never risk it. she'll never put cam in a place where she feels uncomfortable. she'll never hurt cam.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," maggie apologizes, knowing cam deserves more than that. her face is fucked up, she has cuts and bruises, but it's not even near enough to mirror how fucked up she feels inside. her voice is hoarse as she apologizes, her eyes sting and tears stream down.

it does take a while, it takes patience, but eventually, maggie calms down. eventually, she feels centered and exorcised enough to grip a little less on cam's arms. eventually, she tempts a look at her friend, hoping looking at her won't be the cause of fresh tears. she feels empty of those, she feels slightly dehydrated.

"it started a few weeks ago—" maggie disentangles herself from cam with much distaste and goes over to the laptop. "this person," she points at the screen where it reads iknowyourdad@gmail.com "fucking lame handle," she snorts, "but they said they knew something about him. where he went, what he was doing. they sent me a few pictures—his laptop, his backpack, his shoes, and his phone—" it might have seem she was grasping at straws and maybe she was, but after running into so many dead ends, she would take whatever she could get. "i agreed to meet up with them—i know it was stupid—but they were supposed to show me something in there, and then they never showed but i attempted going further in, and further in until shit just... collapsed," a sigh blows past her lips, makes it for stupid reasons, but she doesn't know how to be other than blatantly honest with maggie. "i'm sorry, i won't do it again, i won't go there without you, okay? i just—it's getting dangerous cam, are you sure you want to come with me? are you sure this is... at all worth it?"

Cameron’s anger turned to worry the moment Maggie rose to her feet. The brunette’s protests falling on deaf ears as the injured woman walked over to her computer. “What?” Her face displayed the same confusion that laced her voice. “Someone has been talking to you about your dad?” Cameron approached her friend, and looked at the computer´s screen to skim over the various emails exchanged. A new wave of anger washing over her, but this time it wasn’t directed at Maggie. Instead, it was focused on whoever the person emailing her was. They were clearly toying with the vulnerable girl. And Cam was trying to keep up with Maggie’s outburst, but it was hard too make sense of what her friend was saying in such a state, waving a backpack around. It was obviously an emotional response to a traumatic event. And the blue eyed woman watched helplessly as Maggie began spiraling out of control before finally snapping herself out of it and approaching her friend as the green-eyed girl frantically rumaged through the bag searching for something.

“Maggie, I believe you. Okay?” She said, gently pulling the hysterical girl into her arms to try to calm her. “I believe you.” Cameron said through the thick lump in her throat, her voice tender, trying to soothe her friend’s pain. “And I’m going to help you.” She promised, determined to get to the bottom of this. If someone was truly messing with Maggie in such a cruel way, then Cameron would help find them and make them pay. Maybe once they did, Maggie would finally be able to let go of this obsession and deal with her grief in a healthy way. Whatever it took, Cameron would not let Maggie drown in this. “Please, baby. Calm down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”