#i just literally wrote it on my IDEAS SHELF

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

James (Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I've decided I have to make a chapter fic for Paulie because I'm in love with him. There are gonna be at LEAST 6 chapters in this fic, so there will be plenty more coming! Stick around, like and comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I release more chapters of this!

I want to personally thank my editor @strawb3rri-le for helping me make these ideas come into fruition. Literally cannot do this without you <3

Summary: Paul meets a pretty girl in the library one day, and is elated to find out she is oblivious to who he actually is.

This fic is written in third person from Paul's perspective, which is kind of different to how I normally write my x readers, so it might be a little jarring to read at first, but I just wanted to try something a little different :)

WARNINGS: I'm not certain I wrote any curse words in this one, but I'll say there is just to be on the safer side. Mentions of mushrooms/ fungi; not drug-related, but I figured I'd add that because some people don't like them. I use Y/n like 4 times in here around the end it drives me nuts, but it has to happen. I don't think there's much else.

This one is pretty safe, if I could rate it lower I would, but I'll mark it at T just to be on the safe side.

Paul could have watched the heavy raindrops hit the window pane for hours and hours. the grey clouds drifting in the sky above brought nothing but heavy showers to the streets of London that dark afternoon...

But that's not what he came to the library for.

He came here for some peace and quiet.

He wanted to get some more songwriting done, but the apartment didn't seem to be the place for it that day, and everywhere else just appeared to be crawling with girls. As much as Paul liked girls, he didn't want to be noticed, because then his day would have simply consisted of him trying to escape the hoards that would have started chasing after him.

The library felt like it made the most sense. People were there to read, study, keep to themselves; not to socialize with others and be loud. As long as he found a little private area to sit, he knew he wouldn't be bothered at all. He also figured, if he couldn't come up with any song ideas, he had tens of thousands of books to refer to for inspiration.

And that was the situation Paul was in at that moment. He'd been sitting in his little study nook for a while now, just staring blankly at his notebook, or out the window next to him. Usually the words came flowing from his mind, translated by his hand and onto the paper, yet that particular day, nothing seemed to be inspiring him.

He rose to his feet after a while, notebook shoved under his arm as he wandered off into one of the aisles nearest to him. He wasn't looking for any book in particular. Sometimes he'd just pull one off the shelf, flip to a random page, and read a random sentence in the middle of the text. If it seemed to be interesting enough to inspire even a single line in a song, Paul would use it. If not, off to the next book.

He began to do just that, with older books with worn spines, and newer books with colourful covers. Unfortunately, even after the fourth or fifth book he pulled from the aisle he was in, no inspiration seemed to manifest from what he was reading. He sighed as he pushed the book he was holding back into its place on the shelf before he made his way to the next aisle over.

Paul began repeating what he was doing before, reaching for a book, and flipping through the pages. This particular book, he cut three separate times, and not one sentence seemed to draw any kind of innovation for his songwriting.

Once again, Paul shoved the book back onto the shelf. As he stared ahead at all of the different pieces of literature before him, one book in particular seemed to catch his eye. It was green, with gold accents on the bevelling as well as the raised parts of the spine. Without a second thought, he reached up for it, only for his fingers to come into contact with someone else's.

Paul drew his hand back and glanced to his right, where a young woman about his age stood. He held his breath, fully expecting an overreaction from her at his presence.

Instead, she smiled awkwardly at him, her hand also drawn back close to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were after that one," she explained gently, and Paul blinked, raising a confused eyebrow before looking back to that specific book. After a moment, he pulled it down off the shelf and examined the cover, the golden text embossed into the front cover reading 'Europe's Most Common Mushrooms, and Fungi: A Field Guide'.

"Do you like learning about Mycology as well?" She asked curiously, and Paul's gaze shot up to her face, eyes squinting a little at her question.

He was half confused on what she was honestly asking him, but he was also kind of surprised she wasn't pointing and shouting at the fact that she found a Beatle in public.

"... Mycology?" He asked back sheepishly, and her awkward smile warmed up a little at his question. She pointed at the book cover before responding with another question. "You know, the study of mushrooms, and fungi?"

Paul's eyes dropped back down to the book before cracking it open and flipping to a random page as he was doing with all the others. A beautifully illustrated picture of a mushroom with a porous underside presented itself to the young man, and his eyebrows furrowed at the image.

"That is a Boletus Edulis," she explained quietly to him. "It's a tasty gourmet mushroom found in Europe, as well as in North America."

Paul looked back up to her briefly before returning to the book and flipping to another page, a red capped mushroom with white spots being the next image to catch his eye.

"Ooh, and that one there is an Amanita Muscaria, also known as the Fly Agaric. It received its name back in the day because grinding it up and putting it in window sills and doorways would repel flies from entering your home."

"... You sure know your mushrooms, huh?" Paul asked carefully, rather impressed with the few bits of information provided to him by this stranger.

"It's definitely a good hobby to get into. Nothing beats going out onto the trail and foraging them for dinner." She paused briefly before adding, "I mean... the boletes are fine, but perhaps not the amanitas." 

Paul closed the book up again before taking a final glance at the front cover.

"I'm uh... sort of grabbing books at random, looking for something inspiring. There needn't be a reason to hang onto this if you need it," Paul explained, presenting it to her so she could take it, and her fingers accidentally brushed against his once again as she took it from him.

The graze was so gentle, yet Paul felt his cheeks warm up at the contact. She was awfully pretty, he decided to himself in silence as he watched the look of joy on her face appear when she flipped the book open herself. She stopped on a page containing a drawing of a white mushroom dripping black ink at its edges.

Paul couldn't help but double take the image. To think there was so much about the world he didn't know a thing about... it made him feel so small, and insignificant.

She must have noticed his gaze on the page, and figured she'd teach him about one more specimen. "These ones," she began, with a rather excited exhale, turning the book Paul's way so he could see, "are Shaggy Mane mushrooms. They are edible and good, as long as you haven't consumed alcohol for a few days prior to, and post consumption. Then they'd be quite toxic."

She smiled at the tidbit and looked up to Paul's face, nose crinkling a little. "Isn't that just the neatest thing?"

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never really thought about mushrooms before. Sure, he'd seen brown and white ones before in the grass, or growing on trees, but there was something about the way she relayed the information with such passion, that just made it so interesting to him. It was unlike anything he ever experienced before.

"... You have a very natural way of describing this sort of stuff," Paul expressed, nodding his head to her positively. "I honestly never realized there were so many different ones."

"Oh, what I've told you doesn't even scratch the surface of the world of Mycology," she explained, the smile only growing on her face, and Paul couldn't help but smile back at her.

"... I should really leave to let you continue on with what you were doing," she said after a moment. "I do appreciate you listening to my ramblings. I know I can sometimes get carried away with this sort of stuff," her smile fell away a little. "Not many really care about fungi, so it's nice to talk about my interests with someone who's willing to listen."

Paul's own smile began to falter, rather upset that such a pleasant conversation, with such a pleasant person, had to end so soon. He hadn't encountered such a normal discussion in so long. Not that a conversation about mushrooms and fungi was normal, but Paul felt it was just so refreshing talking about anything but him and his fame.

"... well, I rather enjoyed what you had to say," he admitted lightly, an undeniable blush flourishing from the woman's cheeks as she appeared to smile again, a little brighter than before.

"Well... thank you, again. You're very kind," she repeated, waving her hand kindly as she turned on her heel and wandered off to the next aisle.

Paul's eyes watched her round the corner, and he stood there in disbelief. There was so much for him to unpack in his thoughts in that very moment.

She had to have been one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen; minding her own business in a library by herself, and doing something she really enjoyed. Her intelligence on the subject showed through her excited rambling, which Paul could have listened to for much, much longer.

Her voice was so pleasant, happiness apparent in her words as she described every species effortlessly, as if she'd known it all since the day she was born. It left him wanting to hear more from her.

But the cherry on top of all of this, was that she didn't even acknowledge Paul as anything but another human being. Not some big musician with whom she obsessed over just because of his looks. For someone who remained so calm, and pleasant in conversation, Paul was certain she had no clue who he actually was.

And he loved that.

As much as fame brought excitement to his existence, Paul couldn't deny that the concept of a simple, normal life with someone who loved him for him, and not his popularity to the public, was something he seemed to yearn for more often as of late.

He loved the idea of being a nobody, especially to someone he wanted to be somebody to.

He looked over his shoulder to the empty space where that green and gold book once sat, deciding to reach for the one sitting next to it. It happened to be another book on mushrooms and fungi, but it had a lot more words in it than images. He flipped to the middle of the book and read the fist word he saw.

Symbiosis.

He felt dumb staring at the word. He knew there was only one person he could ask to inquire about what it meant. He glanced up through the bookshelves, eyes searching through the gaps of the works to find her.

She only happened to be in the next aisle over, scanning the book titles off the spines above her head carefully, too in her own world to notice Paul's obvious staring through the shelving units. She pulled a book down and read the summary on the back, Paul watching her eyelashes flit lower and lower as she absorbed the words like a sponge in water.

He noticed that as she read, her lips gently mouthed each word, and he soon found himself stuck in a trance. He observed how her tongue poked out between her teeth to mouth words with the letter L, and how her lips would press tightly together as she read words containing B, and M.

Who would have thought, Paul wondered, something so small could be so hypnotizing?

She made a small face of approval to the book before stacking it on top of the green one she was given by him, and she headed over to an empty table in the corner of the room. She faced towards the shelves, back to the wall so she could see the whole library from her spot.

Despite this, as soon as she made herself comfortable, she was solely focussed on the books, and her dominant hand wrote out her notes almost romantically, notebook pages filling effortlessly with information that brought her joy.

Paul was absolutely mesmerized by her movements. Screw the rain, he could have watched her for hours. He couldn't get over the little flick of her wrist when she ended a point, or the wonderful silent motion of her lips reading out the words.

She drove him mad in the best kind of way.

She flipped to the next page in her notebook, and Paul came back down to earth, realizing then just how creepy he must have appeared, standing close to the shelf, and peering through to the other side to watch the woman simply minding her own business from afar.

His shoes felt like they were filled with cement, but he worked up enough courage to slowly move towards her table, opting to stand by a nearby shelf and stare blankly at the spines as to not look so awkward.

What would I even say to her? was the only thought at the forefront of Paul's mind, the black mushroom book still in his hand, one of his fingers wedged between the pages to mark where that silly word was. He knew he was going to ask her about it, but he needed to smoothly segue into it, somehow.

This situation was rather a bother to Paul. He felt conflicted as to why he seemed so nervous about approaching her. He was a flirt, and he loved making girls feel giddy, why would this stranger be any different?

He was close enough that he could have called for her attention, but her focus was faithfully undivided, completely oblivious to Paul standing only fifteen feet away from her, trying to muster up the nerve to say something, anything.

After talking to her for only a minute and a half, and having parted ways for not even five more, Paul found himself deprived of her voice, longing to hear anything roll off her tongue, as long as it were to him. He was pining to have her attention so badly, but standing and admiring her from only a couple of steps away was only going to get him so far.

His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his pants haphazardly as he took a deep breath. He took one more second to nod his head positively for motivation, and he stepped out into the open, facing her completely. His heart pounded in his chest, but he pushed himself to take one more step forward. And that happened to be enough for her to notice.

The stranger raised her gaze up to Paul, the look of neutral concentration on her face softening into a pleasant smile.

Just that made Paul weak in the knees.

"Find anything inspiring yet?" She asked him in a friendly tone, eyeing the book in his hand as his thoughts flatlined. He didn't expect her to speak first. On the one hand, he was relieved that it indicated she was okay with talking to him, but on the other, it put him off-script, and now he had to actually use his brain to initiate discussion.

"I uh..." he struggled for a moment, glancing down at the book in his hand, as well.

"If I'm going to be quite honest... you talking about mushrooms so passionately was pretty inspiring. It's all I can think about."

The woman's eyebrows arched in surprise, a gentle dusting of pink spreading over her nose as she took in his words. She toyed her bottom lip between her teeth, and Paul couldn't help but drop his gaze for just a second to admire her mouth.

"You know, I'm really flattered that you said that," she expressed gently. "That means a great deal to me. Thank you."

Paul couldn't even feel his legs now, basking in her praise, as a flower would to the rays of sun on a warm spring day.

"... I couldn't help but grab another book like the one you're reading," he explained, lifting it up to show her, and the apples of her cheeks rounded as she smiled even wider. Paul hadn't ever recalled seeing such a beautiful face before.

"I... I saw a word I don't know. I think you're the only person who can help me." The confession made Paul feel a little self-conscious; he didn't want to seem entirely stupid in front of her, but she really didn't seem the type to make fun of him over something like this, and really damage his ego.

Without a word, she pulled the chair out next to her as a silent indication for Paul to take a seat, and he took the offer graciously. He set his notebook down onto the table, and then opened the book to where his finger marked the page cut. She leaned in a little to peer down at the text, and he pointed to the word, realizing only seconds after just how close she was to him. He could smell the faintness of her body wash, and it made his head swirl.

"... This one." He mumbled, watching her in his peripheral as she read the sentence in her head, and physically mouthing the words as her eyes tracked each letter.

"Ah, symbiosis. It basically means two different organisms are benefitting off each other in some way or another. We would be a good example of this, right now," she offered, tilting her head up to look at Paul, who's ears burned hot at the eye contact, but he kept strong and held it for as long as she wanted to look at him.

"You're keeping me pleasant company, and in return, I'm helping you learn about fungi." He thought her point was going to end there, but she quickly added on, "from a natural standpoint, fungi and trees have a symbiotic relationship. If it weren't for the millions of miles of fungal network underground, connecting all the living organisms together, plants wouldn't be able to communicate to each other, or convert their energy from one to the other to achieve optimal growth."

"So... everything would die without fungi?" Paul asked slowly.

"I believe so," she nodded her head. "They play a role in every step of a plant's life. Take a tree, for example."

She slid the green and gold book over to sit between them, and she flipped through the first few pages until she found a diagram of a tree's life cycle, pointing to the images as she rambled on.

"Fungi help them establish strong roots when they're young. Some fungi actually provide nutrients in the soil for the trees to use as energy to grow tall and strong."

She turned her gaze back to Paul. "Even at the end, if a mother tree is dying, she will begin to use the fungal networks below to disperse her energy to her kin, sacrificing herself so they can grow, instead. They use the networks underground to communicate in their own special way."

The young man appeared to be in a dream-like state, head in his palm as he looked on in favour of her words. But when he noticed she stopped speaking after a while, he blinked, finding she was smiling a little awkwardly again, as if she'd asked him a question.

"Hm?" He asked, propped hand dropping to the table. He felt rather guilty his attention diverted.

"... I'm boring you, aren't I?" There was a hint of sadness in her words, a weak smile at her lips, and Paul shook his head quickly.

"No, no! Believe me, I'm listening." He thought for a beat, face going warm again as he confessed, "I just... I really love the sound of your voice. You have a way with words, and I did get a little distracted by that." The young woman's face fell expressionless, and Paul continued.

"I may be rather daft on the subject, but there's just something in the way you talk about it that makes learning about it so much more enjoyable. Please, don't stop talking."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it as she pondered what to respond to Paul with. Her face was flushed, and she was holding back a grin, which ultimately made Paul a little confident considering he was the one that made her flustered.

"... You probably say that to all of the girls you talk to," she finally replied, eyes casting down to the books to hide her blush, and he couldn't help but bite back a smile of his own.

"Well, none of the other girls I know are quite like you," he stated with poise, eyes still locked in on her, hands clasping together as he noticed her blush deepen, and a smile finally breaking through.

Paul then attempted to downplay such a strong interaction. Despite talking to her the way he wanted to, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable with how forward he felt he was being.

"What does your boyfriend think about your hobbies?" He asked. "He must be so proud, and fascinated by how passionate you are about all of this stuff, surely."

She looked back up to Paul, her smile weakening a little. "Boyfriend? Oh I uh..." she cleared her throat. "I don't... I don't have one of those."

Paul's eyebrows lowered a little. "... As in you just got out of a relationship?" He tried to clarify, to which she shook her head.

"As in I've never really... had one." She had a sheepish look on her face, cheeks now red out of embarrassment rather than flattery. Her response sent Paul's eyebrows shooting up in surprise, to say the least.

"... Never?" He repeated in disbelief. She pressed her lips together in a line tightly, shaking her head once again.

"This," she gestured to the books with her hand, "is my life. It has been my life since my early teenage years. Mushrooms and fungi are... strange, and because I like them, I guess that makes me kind of strange, as well."

Her self-dejecting statement made Paul feel bad. In his mind, someone like her not being taken, though washing the feeling of relief throughout him, didn't add up at all. Not even her fascination in mushrooms made her odd, in his eyes.

"... If it means anything to you, I think you're just absolutely lovely," he said, watching as her lip pressed into a little pout as she regarded his words.

"I'm telling you... every guy out there has no idea what they're missing out on."

Paul desperately wished he could read minds; especially hers. She didn't speak, and Paul assumed that the was simply trying to grasp for some words to say. If he were in her position, he wouldn't have known what to say, either.

"For once in my life, someone has actually made me speechless," she confessed, huffing a sigh as she rubbed one of her cheeks, as if that would have made her blush disappear.

"I want to tell you thank you, but that doesn't feel like nearly enough," she explained. "Honestly, your girlfriend is very lucky to have such a charming boyfriend. You have a way with words, yourself." Her comment made Paul laugh, but only once. Inside his chest, his heart was doing somersaults, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"What girlfriend?"

The woman gasped at his response. "You lie," she accused, yet Paul knew it was all in good nature by the smile on her face. "Even if you were, with a face like that, there's no way you don't have girls chasing after you all the time."

How the tables have turned, Paul thought; a little excited he found himself in the same spot as her only moments after he made the same mistake. Part of him wanted to respond to her with something witty, like "who says I don't?", but the other part of him didn't want that to arouse any questions that would segue into a conversation regarding his job.

He couldn't risk having her know everything, and fall for the idea of him.

"I guess I just... haven't found the right bird yet." He figured that was another truth he could hold by without entirely lying to this poor woman.

"That's fair. Well, whoever has the pleasure of ending up with you is a very lucky woman, indeed." Paul's cheeks darkened again, the compliment making his fingers feel a little numb. He noticed her eyes drifting to the window above his head before she suddenly closed her books shut.

"The rain's stopped. This has been a rather lovely conversation, but I do apologize. I must be leaving now."

Paul felt his stomach drop, and his mouth fell agape, watching worriedly as she gathered her belongings and rose to her feet.

"What-- you're leaving? Right now?"

He felt the same way he did back in the aisle when she cut the conversation short, full of disappointment that it all had to come to an end again.

"I was on my way to my parents' house before the rain started," she explained with a lopsided smile. "I'm helping my mother prepare for dinner tonight, but the rain was so bad, I figured I'd spend some time in here while I waited for it to die down. And I'm very glad I made that decision."

Paul nodded his head, realizing the last part of what she said alluded to making his acquaintance. He also found he couldn't be upset at such a wonderful gesture of kindness, her going to her parents'. "That is very sweet of you to do that for her," he said gently, standing up as well before she disappeared again.

"Before you go," he started, feeling hot beneath the collar as he tried to gather a little bit more courage to speak, her expecting eyes on him making him rather anxious.

"I would like to keep in contact with you," he paused briefly, "only if you want. I just... I've had a really pleasant time talking with you, and learning about your interests, and I would very much like to do all of this again."

Her cheeks rounded out again as her smile widened a little more-- Paul couldn't get over that damned smile of hers.

"You know... I would like that a lot," she finally answered, glancing down at her notebook before flipping to the last page and ripping it out. She folded it in half, and then tore it at the line, handing Paul one of the halves while she began writing on the other one. Paul watched with a pounding heart as she scratched out her phone number, and he began to do the same.

When they exchanged the papers, Paul examined the number she provided him, and then read the name she printed above it, a smiley face drawn next to it. he tried his best to concealing his excitement within.

"Y/n..." he mumbled thoughtfully, eyes casting back up to look at her. She laughed a little as she flipped the paper in her hand to show Paul, which only contained his phone number.

"That's me, but what am I to call you, exactly?"

This is where Paul found himself in another dilemma. He wanted her to call him Paul, but he also didn't want her putting two and two together if she recognized his name. He didn't want to entirely lie to her, either.

That's when a light bulb went off in his head. He realized the greatest loophole, and solution was staring him right in the face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paul reached for the paper again, scribbling his name at the top. But he wasn't using 'Paul'; he decided he was going to use his real first name.

"You can call me James," he explained, handing the paper back to her. She surveyed the name at the top of the paper before looking back up to him.

"Finally, a name to a face," she hummed in content. She then offered a hand out to Paul, to which he took so they could shake and say their farewells.

"It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, James."

It was the first time in a very long time Paul had been called that by anyone. He figured he would have hated the sound of it leaving her lips, but instead, it made his heart flutter. His face felt hot again, and it was apparent y/n could see the flush of his skin, because she smirked a little.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Please be safe." He finally let go of her hand, waving good bye as she did so as well, turning on her heel once again, and heading to the counter with her books to sign them out.

She slid Paul's phone number into her notebook as she walked away, and Paul just stood there for another moment as he watched her leave. He was was still feeling so many emotions now that he was alone, unable to help himself reaching back down to the piece of paper she gave him. He ran his fingers over her name and smiled a little to himself.

"Y/n..." her name was like a breath of fresh air to him. When he looked back up to catch one more glimpse of her, she was already gone. It made him feel a little empty, but when he noticed she left the black mushroom book for him, he felt just a little warmer inside.

Paul reached for the book, sliding her number into the pages, and deciding he was going to sign it out and try to learn a little on the subject. If they ever planned to meet in the future, he could try and impress her with some of the information he learned.

He didn't end up getting what he was looking for at the library, but he felt he was leaving with something he needed.

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A/A/N: Okay, I hope yous enjoyed that! Part 2 will happen as long as I have people requesting it. I have ideas, I'm just missing supporters<3

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[cyberels]

IT WILL COME BACK

PLEASE GOD LISTEN TO IT WILL COME BACK BY HOZIER IT MAKES THE FIC BETTER GOD BLESS

(my requests are on btw plsss send fic ideas pleaseee)

PART TWO HERE CUZ MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ADD IT my bad

summary: ellie hates one night stands, while you couldn’t care less. she barely manages to catch your name before you’re pulled away from her. she makes it her goal to find you again.

warnings: NSFW, MDNI!!!, drinking, language

(i am a whore for subby!ellie so that’s all i wrote in this fic, it’s all e!receiving)

wc: 2.4k

a/n: okay i so lied about the other fic it’s not done yet so take this one instead lol it’s my first time writing smut in years so… please be patient if it’s not good i will improve eventually 🙏 (i didn’t proofread this, sorry if it sucks LOL)

my masterlist

divider credit to benkeibear :)

The music's overwhelming, and you're certain your hearing's screwed, if it wasn’t already. The lights flash, illuminating the room and all the people in it. You'd been told this was just a small get together, so why are there so many people here? who goes all out for a fucking get together?

you stick to the corner of the room, sipping your drink occasionally while you pretend to scroll through your phone to look casual. originally, your plan was to stay home and study for finals, but you agreed to go because your friend had promised she'd be with you the whole time.

“come onnnnn, don’t be lame. just fuck someone and have a good time, you’ve been studying for like yearsssss.” your friend pleaded. somehow she was already drunk.

“i’m not really in the mood for a hookup—“

“liar, your ass was swiping through tinder not even 30 minutes ago.” she grins at you, “look, let’s just go to the party, yeah? have a good time and shit, get fucked up… maybe get fucked, you feel me?”

“you’re stupid and i hate you.”

“you love me.”

…unfortunately for you, your friend's plan to stick with you only lasted about 15 minutes before she saw her old fling and disappeared up the stairs with them, so you're on your own now. great.

screw it. might as well have some fun, too. you push yourself off the wall, discarding your empty cup on some random shelf, and immediately going to grab another drink to replace it. you look around, maybe a hookup wouldn’t be so bad?

you never believed in divine timing, but you lock eyes with a girl that’s sitting on the couch across from you right when you decide to find someone to fuck. you can’t bring yourself to look away; you’re too dumbfounded that there’s a girl here that’s literally the human embodiment of your type.

the girl smiles back at you, also not breaking eye contact. she beckoned for you to sit down on the couch next to her.

ellie was never the type for one night stands, if she was gonna fuck someone, she’d want them back for more later. but there was just something about the way your outfit hugged your body that made her not care at the moment.

ellies previous situationship had gotten a girlfriend without warning, so needless to say she was in the market for someone else to take her spot. when she saw you and the way you were looking at her like she was the only girl at this stupid party, she figured you were just as desperate for sex as she was right now.

you carry your shot of don julio back as you flop onto the seat across from the girl. you quickly take the shot, being unable to stop the cringe on your face as the alcohol burns your throat. real smooth, she’s definitely gonna wanna fuck you now—

“can’t handle your tequila?” she teased, leaning closer to you so she was able to be heard over the music.

“shut up, i can’t help that it tastes like fucking nail polish remover.”

ellie laughs at your response, and you swear you’ve never heard something so fucking cute before in your life. you try to play it cool, but the way she’s looking at you is making you practically drool. you tense as you unintentionally conjure up a mental image of her hands up your shirt, her lips on your skin, her fingers in your—

“at least it gets the job done.”

you blink a few times, her voice ripping you from your fantasy, “yeah, it does. ‘specially don julio, that shits like a hundred bucks a bottle.”

“and it’s worth every fucking penny, dude.”

you hadn’t expected to be fantasizing about some random girl fucking you, but… here you were. maybe it’s the tequila, or the few drinks you had beforehand, but you decided you absolutely needed this girl despite only speaking two goddamn sentences to her.

your eyes fall to the hallway, moving towards an empty bedroom door, and then back to the girl. you never were a fan of small talk, anyways.

ellie’s breath catches when she follows your gaze to the bedroom. she had been hoping for a distraction from the party, and she was just as eager for you as you were for her.

“wanna go talk in there?” you smiled, nodding towards the room. “it’s quieter.”

the girl grins back, not bothering to answer, just getting up and grabbing your hand, leading you into the bedroom.

usually you’d try to learn her name first, or at least learn more about her, but not tonight, not with her. you needed her as quickly as possible.

you barely let her lock the door before you push her roughly onto the bed, a mischievous smile spreading across your face as you move your body to straddle hers. “you sure you wanna do this?”

“yeah, i’m sure.”

“perfect. gonna be good and let me take control?”

ellie's eyes widened. she’s not normally the submissive type, but… tonight was a different game, and you were hot, so she simply nodded in response as you moved to press kisses into her neck.

you shake your head, pulling away from her for a moment, “nuh uh, not a good enough answer. use your words.”

“mmh— i’ll be good, i’ll let you take care of me.” ellie chokes out, heat pooling between her legs already, and all she wants is to grab your hand and shove it down her pants.

“perfect, good girl.” you coo, rolling your hips and dragging your crotch over hers, your jeans colliding with her sweatpants. your movements are slow and deliberate, you know exactly what you’re doing.

you brush your lips over hers, but you don’t kiss her, instead you move to the side of her face, leaving a trail of kisses across her jawline.

ellie whimpers, “teasin’ me.”

you laugh in response, “maybe i am, pretty girl. you’re gonna have to prove you deserve it before i give you more.”

the noises she made in response go directly to your clit, and if you weren’t having so much fun teasing the girl, you’d be touching yourself right about now.

the other girl grabbed the hem of your shirt, forcing your lips against hers. you moan into the kiss, tangling your hands in her hair and pulling slightly.

ellies so enamored that she doesn’t even realize your knee slipped between her thighs, and she instinctively pulls away as you press your knee further into her, “fuck, ah— s’good, baby.”

you grin, moving your knee up and down slowly, “you like that?”

“yeah, i fucking— shit, baby, fuck—“

you barely give ellie the opportunity to speak before you replace your knee with your hand.

you trail your kisses down to the hem of her pants, smiling up at her, “this alright?”

“fuck yeah it is.”

you giggle, continuing to move your hand slowly against the other girls clothed slit as you place more kisses onto her thigh.

after a moment, you pull back and tug on her pants, “need these off of you.”

you know you sound desperate, but you don’t care.

ellies cunt aches at the absence of your touch, so she quickly obliges, leaving just her boxers on, “take yours off too, babe, please. wanna see you.”

you want to deny her and play your game a little longer, but there's something about the way she’s looking at you, eyes watery and half-lidded, that makes it impossible to say no, “only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

soon enough, both of you were left in just your underwear and bra, and you thank god you wore a cute set tonight. the only regret you have is not bringing your strap, because god do you want to get this girl pregnant.

“so fucking hot.” you say, moving back so you could see her whole body. you move your hand to trace along her tattoo, and you smile at her, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

ellie whimpers again, and she moves your hand back to her throbbing clit, “more.”

“m’not done admiring you.” you say, “you can wait a little while longer.”

you lean closer to her again, pushing her bra back slightly and sucking on the skin, leaving small red marks across her chest.

at this point, ellie is certain she cannot wait any longer, her legs squeezing together to try and get some friction. “mmh, can’t wait baby, need you now. please— fuck, oh my god— please, baby.”

you push her legs back open, giggling, “you’re so cute when you’re needy. stop moving, m’gonna take care of you eventually.”

your move so your head is in between the other girls thighs, and you place gentle kisses on the girls legs, leaving more red marks every now and again.

“fuck, please touch me, you’re killing me— you can’t do this to me. fuck.”

you grin, you hand hovering over the girls crotch now, just barely touching her, “you’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you? you don’t even know my name and you’re still begging me for more.”

ellie presses your hand down further into herself, she’s getting tired of waiting, “god, babe— please, i need it. please baby, i’m bein’ good, please.”

you bite your lip to stifle a moan, “so fucking hot when you beg.”

your hand moves to her clit, and you rub small circles into her. you’re moving painfully slow, but you can’t let her win just yet, you like hearing her whimper. “so wet already, pretty girl. you’re turning into my bitch, huh?”

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t wet too, and the sounds of ellies moans aren’t helping your case, but ellie doesn’t need to know that right now.

ellie goes to say something in response, but you don’t give her the chance, you speed up your movements, and she whines pathetically into the pillow she has pressed up against her face.

“not— not fair.” she whimpers, “fuck, faster— m’ gonna—“

“not yet.” you say, stopping what you were doing and tugging off her boxers. you’re certain you know the answer, but you ask again, “this alright?”

“mhm.” ellie replies, biting her lip, she can’t bring herself to say anything more. she wants this so bad.

you discard her boxers on the floor, and then bring your head in between her thighs again, “want you to cum in my mouth.”

ellie nods eagerly, and once again moves to press your face into her cunt. she forgets she’s in public for a second, unable to hold back her moans. she’s lucky the music's loud, because god she felt like she was going crazy with how good it felt.

you lick a stripe into her already sopping wet slit, and after a minute, you get to work. the second you stop teasing her, it only takes a few seconds for her to cum all over your face.

the noises she makes as she finishes make it hard for you to focus on anything else, your own clit begging for her touch, but before you do anything else, there’s a bang on the door.

you can’t hear exactly what the person outside is saying, but you’re able to hear one word, cops.

well, fuck, at least the other girl got to finish. you’d definitely be taking care of yourself once you got home.

“shit, i’m sorry.“ the girl starts, grabbing your clothes and throwing them towards you before putting hers on, “usually i wouldn’t just—“

“it’s fine.” you insist, “i’m just glad i got to make you feel good.”

ellie could die, right there on the spot. you look so fucking hot, and right now she was yearning to return the favor and make you feel good, too. “what’s your name?”

you smile and tell her, and then start to ask for hers, but you’re interrupted by the banging starting again. you grab her hand once you both are clothed, and run out of the house.

it didn’t take long before your friend spotted you, pulling you away from the girl and into the uber she called.

“dude, who the fuck would call the cops? it wasn’t that loud of a party— uh, dude, your shirts on backwards.”

“my wh—“ you look down, and sure enough, it is on backwards. that's…. embarrassing. “oh, well, um—“

“—no way! you— with who?! i thought you said you weren’t in the mood for that? you’re such a liar!”

“i don’t know her name.” you admit, brushing your hands through your hair, “wish i did. the cops got called before i could… y’know.”

you didn’t want to say anything further, deciding to spare the poor uber driver of knowing the details of your sex life.

“maybe you’ll find her again, it’s not that big of a town.”

“maybe. but it’s no big deal if i don’t. i don’t normally keep track of my hookups.”

“yeah, but usually you get to finish, too.” she counters.

“it’s whatever, i don’t mind.” you shrugged, and it was the truth. you had toys at home that would satisfy you enough, you’d just use them.

and that’s exactly what you did when you got home.

you turned on the shower and cleaned yourself up when you were done. usually your hookups don’t stick with you like this, but this girl was just so damn hot, and the way she begged— god. you figure you should probably think of something else, because you’re gonna make a mess of yourself again if you keep going like this.

when you hopped into bed, you still couldn’t get the image of her out of your head. this… wasn’t normal for you.

you even fucking dreamt of her that night, and you cursed at yourself once you woke up, because now you were aching for her touch once more.

stupid, you think, i’m so stupid. can’t get attached, don’t even know her name.

luckily enough for you, you don’t have to worry about that much longer. when you open your phone, there’s a dm waiting for you.

…how the fuck?

[kvetchlandia]

Pompilio Villarubbia Norri Roman Poet Gaius Valerius Catullus c.1935

When I was in high school, everyone was taking smart choice foreign languages: French, Spanish, German. I'm sure people would have taken Mandarin had my school offered it. But no, not me. I had to do the lame thing and go for the useless. I took Latin. By the time I hit university, I was pretty advanced in the language, but hadn't yet subjected myself to the barbarism of Medieval Church Latin (sorry, but what can I tell ya? I'm a classicist, I guess). Anyway, in my first term at Berkeley, I took an intensive course so I could hop right into translation of serious classical documents. My instructor (I still remember her name, which was great. She was called Tizzzie) had us select a Catullus poem to translate, just as a warm up. At random, because I didn't know it, I chose Catullus 58, one of the Lesbia poems. Lesbia was Catullus' love for a while, and he wrote a bunch of lovely romantic poems inspired by and dedicated to her. Then they had a nasty breakup and he took out the literary knives. Here is Catullus 58 in Latin:

Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, nunc in quadriviis et angiportis glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.

The reason I'm telling this boring tale is this: Look at the last line. Do you see the first word in the line - glubit (3rd person singular of the verb glubere, if you really wanted to know, which I rather doubt is the case). Well, I had no idea what the verb meant, never having encountered it before. I looked it up in my little student's Latin/English dictionary, only to find that it didn't appear there. Mystified, I went to the Doe Library, Berkeley's main library, where they had a bunch of Latin/English dictionaries. I grabbed one off the shelf at random and finally found a definition, which was "to bark back." I was like, "to bark back," what the fuck does that mean? Finally, I went to the humungous Oxford Latin Dictionary, in which at last I found a definition that made some sense. That would be - glubere: to pull back the foreskin prior to giving oral sex.

Damn, Latin actually had a piece of sex slang which literally meant to pull back the foreskin prior to giving a blow job! I learned this at UC Berkeley. And people say college isn't good for anything!

And, for those few of you who've bothered to read this far, here's my translation of the poem:

Caelius, our Lesbia, that Lesbia, that same Lesbia, who alone Catullus once loved more than himself and all others, now in the crossroads and alleyways pulls back the foreskins and sucks off the descendants of noble Remus.

OK, that's our lesson for the day. Be prepared for a quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed.

[hohotushka228]

Hallo everynyan!

So.. I apologize in advance that I haven't posted for-.. how long.. About.. three days??(•﹏•").. So forgive and understand for this<3.. To be honest, I just didn’t have any ideas on what to draw, as I said in previous posts, and..I really wouldn't mind if you had some ideas for me. It would be nice to discuss some points and heads on Bugbo with you<)

Oh yeah, about them! I made a little comic based on my Head canon that I wrote about half a year ago... And if you find it interesting, you can read it:)

The head canon is that Bugbo loves tea, absolutely any kind, he drinks it constantly, day and night. And sometimes, for new herbs for tea, Bugbo sends Hoppo into the forest and to the store so that she can bring some. And from the collected herbs, Bugbo makes tea.

And his friends sometimes wonder where he gets all this stuff from, because literally on every shelf there is at least some kind of box of tea.

Oh, And also Head canon, the fact that Bugbo, although he follows a regimen and advises everyone to sleep at night, he himself could still hang out in the kitchen, and just.. sit.. and probably think about life, thehe<3

I just noticed that I didn't quite finish the drawing... It's not a big deal, right..?

*sigh*.. why the hell is it always in the wrong order?! ◉⁠‿⁠◉..

[shiftylinguini]

Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:

@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:

Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?

Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me. 

Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):

Write anything 

This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!). 

Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works. 

Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you 

Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin. 

And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up. 

(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)

Cheat on your OTP 

Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway. 

(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)

In a similar vein:

Engage in media 

This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole. 

Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts. 

It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity. 

Ask yourself, what would Astolat do? 

No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.  

Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it. 

Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it. 

It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)

Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice". 

It's good advice. 

Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here

Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it. 

And lastly: 

FUCK STATS! 

I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.

Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work. 

Good luck, fellow travelers!!

[sakuraharukaaa]

just a short, fluffy fanfic about my baby son that I wrote in like an hour ♥♥ too lazy to publish on ao3 for now, but maybe later

word count: 1197 words

It’s the smallest things in life. The little things that slowly creep into his daily life until they become a part of his routine. 

People are so adaptable, Haruka can’t help but think. It’s somewhat of a motto, though the connotation used to be negative in the past. He used to think of himself as someone durable who can withstand whatever life throws on him. He always believed that staying firm would keep him safe in the troubling currents of life. He didn’t realize that he, too, can change so much. 

It starts with Nirei, who shows him a pack of tea he got the day earlier. 

“It’s my favorite!” He says ever so enthusiastically. He insists on Haruka drinking it. 

But I don’t like tea that much. It stands on the tip of his tongue, yet he doesn’t say it. The taste is just okay. Barely passable, if he’d be honest, but for some reason he cannot refuse when Nirei shoves the almost-full box into his hands. 

He writes it off as something to put in his cabinet, a single box in an empty shelf – what a laughable idea. He can’t really drink it though, since he doesn’t own a kettle.

Suou is always too perceptive. Haruka finds it mildly annoying, especially when he sticks too close to Nirei. Something about an instinct to tell him off, to tell him that Haruka knew him first, and he shouldn’t be so chummy with Nirei. 

Whatever. 

That weasel approaches a couple of days later, talking about Nirei’s favorite tea, because of course he’d know about it. 

“It is quite good, I was surprised.” His smile is odd and sometimes uncomfortable, but Haruka learned to live with it. The hostility wasn’t targeted towards him, it’s just a general warning. “You should drink good tea in a good cup.” 

So he gives Haruka a weird mug with some calligraphy on it. It’s not legible, in no way it is, and Haruka still doesn’t own a kettle. 

He mentions the kettle debacle – off handedly, really – to Kotoha, and she immediately breaks into laughter. It’s a strange noise and he’s about to comment about it, when she suddenly stops. 

“Hold on, do I have an old one?” She speaks quietly, more to herself rather than to him. “It has to be an electric one.” And she leaves for the back storage room without saying a thing. 

Trust her to be a problem solver, of course. She emerges from the storage room with an old, gray kettle. 

“You have to be careful with the cord.” She says with a shy smile that doesn’t suit her. “If you pull too strongly on it, it will expose the wires.” And only then Haruka notices the tape around the end of the cord, a shoddy fix he assumes. 

Honestly? It’s better than nothing. 

So he takes the kettle. 

(Haruka doesn’t even like tea, he’s more of a coffee guy. 

He could make coffee with the kettle in his home, if he so desires, but it takes a long time until he realizes that. By then, he finds an appropriate excuse – he cannot make coffee as good as Kotoha’s with this old thing. 

Better stick to the tea.)

The next one is Umemiya, who somehow heard about the kettle incident. Probably got the information from Kotoha by torture (read: annoying her). He thinks it’s okay to turn it into a charity case, or so Haruka assumes because he never truly understands him. 

So he stops Haruka after a long, long day where nothing worked out, and his big, dumb smile is too blinding right now. 

“I hear you’re furnishing your room!” He’s far too energetic and Haruka grits his teeth. 

APARTMENT, not room, he almost says, and he doesn’t believe that a single box of tea and an ugly mug and an old kettle warrant the use of the word furnishing. It’s literally three items. 

“I thought I’d give you this!” At first Haruka doesn’t realize what this is, until he notices that the hand holding a pot is extended towards him. 

“No way.” He flat out refuses. He can’t believe he was called to the rooftop for this shit. Behind Umemiya, Hiragi is giving him a resigned sympathetic look. 

Umemiya has plenty of reasons why he should take the plant – of course he does! – and at some point Hiragi exasperatedly signs him to give up. 

His pride takes somewhat of a hit when he comes home with that plant that evening. 

(Sugishita gave him a watering can. 

That bastard actually gave him a watering can. 

He doesn’t say anything but he leaves it on Haruka’s desk alongside fucking four pages of how to take care of plants. 

Jesus Christ.)

It’s after a training session when he goes around the neighborhood with Kaji on a semi-patrol (more like an excuse to get candies because Kaji was running low and Haruka didn’t want to test his patience). Haruka doesn’t eat that stuff so he buys a drink at the vending machine next to the store. When he puts the change straight into his pocket, he catches Kaji’s slanted eyes judging him. 

“Really? That’s barbaric.” And Haruka has to summon all of his self restraint to stop himself from saying that Kaji is the barbaric one for making the nasty lump on the back of Haruka’s head. He doesn’t need another one to match the first. 

The next day, he receives a coin purse. A bit worn out at the seams, but it looks it was taken good care of. He is silent when Kaji hands him that, already knowing not to put up a fight. 

Haruka, unfortunately, doesn’t like coin purses or wallets, so he leaves it on the window sill, next to the plant. It doesn’t feel like it belongs inside the kitchen’s cabinets, so the window sill it is. 

Over the next weeks, it becomes worse. He gets a phone case from Kiryuu – a pink one with cherry blossoms to match his name, and he gets a huge water bottle from Tsugeura that was supposed to have some motivational quote on it, but Suou points out the English doesn’t make sense. When the other guys catch wind of that, they start giving him small things too. It is mostly stationary, but some of his classmates went to town on it. Someone gave him a small radio, which was neat and actually useful, but on the other hand, he got a fucking fork with a handle that was painted like a train. He did use it though, because no one was there to judge him for that when he was eating, and it certainly was more useful than the hot girl calendar he got. 

It’s all so odd when he’s home during the weekend, and he’s drinking tea from his ugly mug and eating with his train fork and staring at the plant on his window sill. It did grow nicely, that he has to admit, and somewhere along the way, it grew on him. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to take on that offer for a second plant though. 

[heliomanteia]

How do you feel about tsats? And are you excited for tsats 2?

Mixed feelings but not for the reasons people that dislike it bring up, you know?

I don't like Richard Riordan as a person/media personality because of the controversies, weak political standing, and questionable choices he made as both author and script writer over the time of his career. I personally think that PJO and Co long since stopped being his work of passion and turned into a rather routine money-making machine. Which upsets me because I used to be the target audience for the first series, being a teenager when original PJO released and sort of kind of growing up with the books until I fell out with the series after HOO (and only kind of caught up on stuff shortly after TOA came out).

Disliking Richard Riordan does not mean disliking things he wrote in the past, I still hold original PJO close to heart, it's nostalgic to me. However, recent books are not original PJO.

I like the premise of TSATS but I don't like the fact that its existence is motivated by Riordan's obvious greed?

It's kind of like layers for me:

On the literary level, I think it's a decently written book that fits its target demographics; hell, I made edits inspired by it. It's quotable and it's not badly written, linguistically.

On the book continuity level, I think it should have been the last one Richard and Co released; it feels dragged on now.

On the social/community level, I think it'll be good for queer kids and teens and I'm a queer adult who's happy they're happy.

On character development level, I think it stands very bleak in comparison to Nico in original PJO or HOO or Will in the bits he gets in HOO and episodic Apollo interactions in TOA (loved those).

I like that TSATS wrapped solangelo up as a set ship. I need to make it clear, I like that ship, I think it's a great idea, conceptually. What I don't like is its execution. "Nico finding literal solace" is an amazing premise that got put together messily and almost like an afterthought. Which upsets me because a great premise deserves careful execution.

I like the premises the books throw around, some concepts, ideas, but I think passionate fans execute them better. Some fanfiction is written with better attention to detail than TSATS is. Sometimes it kind of feels like said fans complete the unfinished draft that is Riordan's writing.

TSATS 2? Idk how I feel about it. I'm not particularly excited but I don't hate the idea entirely, I wish people pirated it and gave Richard Riordan the neutral ass bitch (politically) no money. I also understand that it's kind of useless explaining to teenagers who just want a pretty cover on the shelf that RR doesn't deserve them as fans. I also wish some critics were a bit less unhinged about it and didn't make other critical people seem like they just "don't like the ship" when there are so many layers relevant to Riordan as the face of his brand that make me go meh.

At the end of the day my opinion boils down to "when I was the target audience of this book franchise, I got very high quality writing and books written with passion and curiosity; I think it's no longer the focus for Richard Riordan and I feel very sad that current target audience gets scraps of fanservice instead of beautifully written fiction with agenda and meaning behind it that I used to get" but that's just the blues of a guy that used to like something and now only sticks around for a premise of an idea hinted at by the author and expanded by talented writers and artists of the fandom.

I hope I made some sense?

[unioncolours]

The 5th Majsasaurus Year

Today is the 22nd of September, 2024. As per tradition, I have written a reflection of the year that has passed since September 22nd 2023, a public diary entry of sorts. Not only is Sept 22nd Shikamaru’s birthday, but also Majsasaurus as a member of the Naruto fandom’s birthday as well. This date marks five years since I posted my first fic in the Naruto fandom. You can read my first reflection from 2020 here, the second from 2021 here, the third from 2022 here, and the fourth from 2023 here.

It's been five years guys! Half a decade of making a fool out of myself online!

I have to be honest, this year has not been the best when it comes to fandom. While not as depressing as the worst year of 2021, it’s been challenging for sure. Before I go into this year and personally reflects all its quirks and events, I’ll start by introducing my nickname that’s been used on me online; Bex.

When I got social in the Shikatema fandom spheres back in late 2019 I asked people to call me a different name, a name I chose. My back then friends said the name I chose was too long and didn’t want to call me that, so they gave me the name Bex. I accepted the nickname without whining, because there I was, new in a server, and I just followed their lead. So I became Bex online. This is important for later, hence why I told this backstory.

And now onto the fifth year of being this persona online. Keep reading if you’re interested in my year.

I finished my last review of my year by announcing to you, my followers and friends, that I was expecting a child, a theme which was very visible in the fic I published 23rd of September 2023, we hold galaxies.

Since I knew that I’d obviously would have to cut down my time spent online very drastically after my baby would be born, I planned to write one more Shikajin fic with the aim of it being around 30k long, hoped to publish it in December and then be on a longer break. However, it’s… not always that easy being pregnant haha! What I didn’t realise then but realised later was that I suffered from brain fog and that made writing challenging.

What did cherish my days was that dear SpicedGold, who I for a longer while have been close to, sent me a giftbox literally from across the globe. In that giftbox she included two homemade plushies, one of Inojin and one of Shikadai and I had never been so surprised in my life. Now two plushies of them is decorating my shelf above my computer by which I write fics! My friend @clumsydragon28sent me from another corner across the globe another gift box to me as a Christmas gift, where I got even more plushies! Those were of Rowlet from Pokémon and Fyodor from BSD and both plushies decorate my living room. The gifts were truly cherished.

However, because I had rather forcefully decided that I WILL write a final pre-motherhood fic and had a deadline if I wanted it published before my baby was born, it meant I stuck with the first idea I had that sounded mediocrely interesting. Yeah, I should not have forced myself at that point, but wanted to go on a break with a bang and wanted to give my readers something to chew on before giving birth.

And I had very strong faith in myself that I could make it.

For months I battled through writing a plotline my heart didn’t love and my due date got closer and closer and all I could see was plot holes and words that refused to form. I realised 30k would not be enough for whatever I was cooking, and I had now strayed very far from my original plan.

I started to procrastinate and, because I had gained 60 user subscribers on AO3 (if you’re one of them, thank you so much), I decided to host a silly bingo with prompts. I received a few prompt-asks and wrote mini fics for them, all around 600-800 words. It was a wonderful way of procrastinating. You can read my mini fics here: Jinchuuriki Temari part one and two, TemaTen modern au, a fluffy Shikatema, and a Witcher AU.

Not even when my maternity leave had begun before the due date had I made any significant dent in my primary fic and I failed my quest to publish it, even if I by then had a good idea of what to do of the story.

After my child was born and when I had healed form the birth the brain fog vanished immediately. With zero sleep and a tired body I once more had a vision for my fic, and I banged through the rest of it like a madwoman. I had inspiration once more!

TERRORISE, the Shikajin fic, was published at the end of March 2024 and ended being 56k long. It is definitely not my best fic by any means, and there are at least two or even three places where I know I could have added a subplot to up the word count to my trustworthy 90-something thousand words to make a deeper and more profound story, but at that season of my life I could not write a better story than what TERRORISE ended up being. The missing subplots were the lie Inojin told, and Chocho and Sarada’s common backstory, which were only mentioned and alluded to, but not explored like they could to have made a better story. The final chapter was published by the beginning of May, and I have not re-read anything of it.

I had already decided before my baby was born that my project when they were here would be to re-edit To go down with the Sun, my first long fic from 2019. I had often thought about re-editing it finally, since before 2019 I had never written something vast that in English before. That meant my fics at the beginning of my career had language errors that I couldn’t see then, but now was aware of. I started re-editing in May, thinking I would change and add to a good amount of scenes, but in the end, I only added a little bit to one scene aside from correcting and re-editing the rest, which honestly surprised me, even if I so boldly stated in my previous official diary post that there would not be anything to correct. That my bold claims were true did surprise me after all.

Beside that I also added more scenes to three chapters from no one cries for unknown soldiers, my Shikatema WWII fic from 2022, just because I could and I had wanted to do it for a longer while, since that fic would have benefited from having a longer editing period than what I allowed it to have two years ago. So I did! It was fun and lovely to dive back into one of my favourite projects of all of my time in fandom.

In the middle of re-editing Sun I was struck by very sudden and intense inspiration to write about Saiino. In my ‘giving birth’-projection fic with Temari I waxed poetics about the wonders (and horrors) of biology when it comes to childbirth and ended the fic on a very powerful and positive note, but now felt inclined to write a fic which featured a mother who did not have a wonderful start of her motherhood and who fell ill to postpartum depression instead of having a lovely baby bubble.

As if possessed I smashed on my keyboard and crunched to get the fic done in time for Mother’s Day 2024. I made it, and the Ino-centric fic to grow a bed of flowers was published late that evening. I even rushed my ending a bit to make it but even with a rushed ending the entire atmosphere of the piece of so bittersweet and lovely! Postpartum depression is also such a hidden or even taboo topic that I think it was very needed in our fandom to have a description of that.

I could then go back to To go down with the Sun, and I had even commissioned the skilled and wonderful @keijidraws to make a poster for the fic, which I felt like that fic deserved. Over these five years that has passed since I wrote the first words of this fic (if my memory isn’t failing me, I think it was 10th of October 2019 I started writing Sun), To go down with the Sun has given me so, so much. My most kudos and hits, many friends, online crushes, *fans* even if I dare to call them that, soulmates, it all, all started from that fic. It deserved getting reborn and loved again. It was a rather easy job banging through published chapters and just edit them. I had finished everything the final week of May and was really proud.

By the beginning of June I was planning to write an InoTema fic, and was musing between two different settings and plots when I learned that the way I was perceived in what was part of my fandom circle was not a positive one and, being my own fault for how I behaved or was, or not, it affected me badly. Being online caused me panic attacks, I got problems with my sleep, and I had nightmares. And because of that I started to hate the person I was online. I hated Bex and I hated Majsasaurus. I hated the way I was that had led to me being perceived that way and if I hadn’t known better and counted down from ten, I would have nuked myself off the internet out of shame and hatred.

I would have deleted this tumblr you are reading this post from. I would even have deleted my discord server I have loved and nurtured since 2021 without the blessings of the other mods, just nuked it, leaving them shocked and detached from the group of friends we had. I would have ruined it all. I would have deleted everything but my fics on AO3. No, deleted wouldn’t have been enough, in my hatred for my own persona, for Bex, this person that was given to me all those years ago, I wanted to kill her.

I constantly planned suicide letters in my head to post here online. Not killing myself in real life of course, but online. And killing Bex would mean to kill my love for Naruto the series and ShikaTema and Shikajin. How does one kill a hyperfixation?

I started working on it, on killing her. I created a new tumblr and a new nickname and logged out of this one. I hid my twitter account. I decided to never write a Naruto fic again. As you can see, it got very bad very fast. Some of you might think I overreacted at words on a screen and that it all was my own damn fault and I should have reacted or gone about it differently, but it just got like this.

The entire month of June and July I spent in darkness when it came to fandom. It felt like Shikajin would be the only thing keeping me tied to Naruto again and in a desperate attempt to cheer myself up I began editing To dance above the Stars, the sequel to To go down with the Sun, and my true favourite out of the trilogy it belongs to. To try to force myself to not give up, I asked my dear friend Soverel6 if she wanted to make me a poster and she happily agreed, without knowing I was one click away from deleting myself away from her.

Then I began editing sometimes in June. I thought the fic sucked when I re-read it this time around and rather than adding, deleted a lot of the content. Most of the content I deleted was unnecessary preaching for a cause I ran in the fic, and I toned down that theme a lot. After 4 chapters I was ready to give up, to just not bother anymore with this fandom crap and leave for good, when Soverel6 surprised me with an almost finished poster. For her sake, I could not give up. I could not fail the trust she had in me, and I kept fighting for my joy within the little world of the fic.

After a month of sulking and feeling awful I managed to once more spew fun ideas for @notquitejiraiya's sequel fic to her masterpiece Grandmaster, which we jokingly call GMJ (the real name is Piano Man haha). SpicedGold also got to know I was feeling bad and to cheer me up started writing the sequel, When Waterlilies Waken, to the fic that originally made us friends, Let Wildflowers Grow Free. I felt so honoured she got around to do this, after me talking (pestering her) about a potential sequel for a long time. During this time I had reached my favourite parts of the fic, To dance above the Stars, I was editing, and thanks to the support I received from friends when talking about it I finally managed to find it fun to work with a fic again. I was still greatly offline from Naruto spheres, and when I sometimes logged into this tumblr just to check I was very careful to never reblog anything and often logged out again with a pending panic attack.

I uploaded the edited chapter of To dance above the Stars onto AO3 when it was finished in August along with Soverel6’s poster and finally dared to show my face on twitter again. Twitter felt safer than tumblr for some reason.

By this time, two months since I began hating being part of this fandom, I finally started feeling hope again. I decided that, before taking the ultimate decision to actually leave, I must write one final long fic of ShikaTema. I mused different prompts, all of them long and angsty and bloody of course per my brand and what I love to write the most. I mused different plots and it was between yet another historical au which would take place during WWI, another historical au which would take place during the 1700s and focus on witch-hunting, or a fantasy au which would be my Witcher AU, which I have mused for a bit and am really fond of.

I decided in the end to attempt at the Witcher AU.

However, I didn’t start writing it, and started writing this text instead already in late August. Then, after knowing I had received so much love on the WWII-au from 2022, one of my best fics to be honest, in the spur of the moment I decided that I will record the entire fic as a podfic. I begged my dear friend Becks to make me a new poster for the fic’s re-launching as a podfic and since she luckily agreed, I promised myself to do it. I, Bex, would try something completely new! And dauting. And tough. Recording wasn’t a problem in itself, I love reading things out loud, but the chapters were longer than I thought when reading out loud, and the software I downloaded for the editing was not as easy to manoeuvre as I predicted.

Then the fatigue hit again. I got stuck. I have not given up and I will finish it, but the deadline is maybe by 2025, haha.

When I got stuck with recording myself, I managed to scrape together a will to finally, after three months of practically deciding to never write any fic ever again, write a one shot. That one shot ended up being a second chapter to we hold galaxies, my projection fic I published exactly a year ago on Shikadai’s birthday 2023. I first thought of making it a one shot, but ultimately decided to add it as a chapter instead, and I was pretty satisfied with how it ended up being.

Now I am facing what to do next. I still had that promise of a long ShikaTema fic, but the Witcher AU didn’t feel as good as it once did. The hype inside me waned at the same time as new ideas spurred. New ideas. Did you hear that, “new ideas”? That is the sound of me almost being healed from the intense hatred I felt towards my Naruto online persona during the summer.

One of the new ideas is for example connected to Inojin’s canon fate in Boruto the manga, during which chapter he ‘died’ I was not feeling good. I was already trying to strangle my love for him and then he DIED on me. I cried. Yeah, no, judge all you want, but I was not exactly mentally stable enough to witness that. Now, however, I am luckily having fun with engaging with canon once more, since Inojin survived, and we got some good food from the chapters. I had fun in my safe space with other people who were engaged with his fate.

I am now brooding an intense and angsty Shikatema canonverse long fic. Canonverse! It’s almost like going back in time to when I thought I only could (and wanted) to write canonverse, back in 2020 and 2021. I also have a wlw idea again, after deciding to trash all the InoTema ideas that were ruined due to my anxiety in June, so it feels… normal again. It feels like I normally feel like in fandom, in a place where my imagination can run free and I can be the antithesis of a dude bro: the silly bean sister.

I find it ironic how I every year say I have learned to deal with fandom grief, but this year proved once more that I will never learn. But I think I will have to learn to accept that I won't learn.

Now we are here again, at the 22nd of September. Five years has passed since I uploaded the first chapter to my first fic, and I have 950 000 words uploaded on AO3. Earlier this year I promised myself to beat the delicious one million word count before 2025, and I know I realistically still can do it if I start writing tomorrow and stick to it.

But I will not retire until I have that sweet one million words on AO3. It would be too much of a failure to do so. So, dear sixty something subscribers, followers and other lurkers, expect at least 50k more of Majsasaurus fic in the future.

And yes, you can call me Bex. I don’t want to kill her anymore. I asked her forgiveness for being so angry, especially when I proudly bought a Temari Funko figurine in September. I don’t think I can kill this hyperfixation just yet. I don’t think I even want to kill it.

I can, with confidence, say, that there will be a 6th Majsasaurus Year in 2025, at least in some capacity.

Thank you to those who stopped me from deleting everything.

Majsasaurus Bex

[imthetunnelunderoceanblvd]

you should totally write something super kinky with quaritch and a fem!reader that has a lot of bondage and overstim in it. also a lot of body worship (fem!receiving) and maybe slight tickle play PLS🙏🙏 i beg of you

i have no idea what a tickle play is but okay. i literally wrote this on a paper cuz i was in the backyard and the sun was like so nice and the grass was so cold and it was so fun but i couldn’t see anything so i decided to write instead of finishing that one book that’s been on my shelf since december 😻 anyways, reblog and comment pla cuz they make me feel good about myself and make me feel like i wrote something amazing.

warnings: tying, slight body worship but like, not really? slight tickle play (had to do my own research cuz idk what that is..), squirting, oral sex (fem rec.).

you let out a soft giggle when quaritch nuzzeled in your neck, his hot breath ghosting on your neck making you giggle, “s-stop,” you said between giggles as quaritch groaned.

every sound you made turned him on. your innocent sweet giggles had a strong effect on him, he wanted to hear more. he bit down on your neck, breaking the flesh and you let out a soft gasp at the feeling. the taste our blood on his tongue hitting his taste buds making blood flow to his cock, a tent forming in his pants.

he lowered his face, kissing on your collar bones, his fingers toying with the straps of your top that are now hanging on your arms, his hands snaked under your shirt.

he started rolling your nipples using his fingers which pulled a soft moan out of your throat, his flat nose resting on your neck breathing in your scent as he kept kissing, licking, and biting on your flesh. you put your hand on the back of his head, maoning in his ear while scratching behind his ears as he purred into your neck.

his face kept getting lower and lower, painting your soft tits, soft belly, every soft place on your skin his lips made contact with in kisses stopping every now and then to tell you how badly he loves your body, telling you every bad thing he want to do to you. his hand cupped your clothed cunt, his other hand gripping your waist making you let out a mix of pained and pleased moans, with his face now between your thighs he pressed his nose to your cunt, taking in the sweet scent of your pussy, the bridge of his flat nose nudging into your clit making sparks of elecrticity run through your body as he moved your underwear to the side exposing your already sticky cunt to him.

he groaned at the sight of your throbbing clit. the smell of your pussy was so intoxicating, “y’know, sweetheart, if i could, i’d keep my heand in between your thighs forever to the fact that you’d have to get my head surgically removed from between your thighs,” he said before rubbing the flat of his nose on your pussy pressing down making you moan, his hand was on his pants fondling with his belt, your eyes widened when you saw the belt wrapped tightly in his hand as he looked at you, “what are you doi-” he chuckled before you could even finish, the vinrations of his voice dancing on your core making you buck your hips up.

“havin’ fun, gonna show you a real good time n make ya feel good,” he got up and smiled at you, reached for both your hands as he wrapped the belt around them, it hurt you so bad, and you did tell him, really, but it just turned him on more.

he didn’t lie when he said that he’s going to make you feel good, but god... it was torture, you did like the way his tongue felt on your heat the first fifteen minutes, but it’s been hours. every now and then when you need a one more flick of his tongue on your clit to cum he stops and forces you to drink water saying, “just need you to stay hydrated baby,” or “don’t want you all thirsty, gotta make sure ya drink your water,” it was bullshit, espicially now he had stuck a cloth inside your mouth, it was torture. your hole was clenching on nothing, your clit puffy and red, and you felt like your pussy was bleeding from all the sucking. you tried to tell him to stop by squeezing his head with your thighs but he just forced them to open.

a few minutes had passed and he’s still between your thighs, licking and sucking and moaning, drinking your sweet juices sucking them like a sponge would to a tiny puddle of water. you started bucking up your hips, your tiny clit rubbing on his nose and he licked at your butthole. you started squirming and trying to get away from him, but his hands forced your down every time, and every time he did that, the urine in your full bladder moved around making it painfully hard to keep holding in, with tears like springs now on both your cheeks you moaned and groaned and even yelled, he knew you had to pee, and that’s what you were going to do except this time it won’t be exactly just sticky piss.

his tongue left your asshole and went to your eneterance, circling the tiny rim of muscles before shoving his tongue all the way inside, moving his head too to get his nose to move your clit around, his hands went to your soft tummy, his rough fingertips pinching the flesh making your squirm and laugh.

he kept doing that for a few more minutes before you let out a loud and long moan. it was too painful for you, you couldn’t keep it in anymore so you just rested your bladder and allowed the liquid to splash his face, he looked up at you and smiled, that was his goal from the start. to make you quirt, and now that you finally did, his ego was over the moon. he happily drank it all up as if it was a nectar a god poured for him in a white silly cup.

@tieflingteeth

[writingquestionsanswered]

Thank you so much for your sweet reply. When I was typing out the last ask I started to understand how exactly I'm meant to practice without forcing myself to write something I'm not intersted in/ motivated for. (I have plenty ideas, I can make sacrifices).

I realise I may have lost my cool, and so sorry for bringing any hostility to your wonderful blog.

-Anon who's gonna start practicing

Yay! I'm glad you're feeling better about things.

You can absolutely still write stories that you love and that inspire you as practice stories. Because for one thing, stories aren't somehow obsolete once you finish them just because you don't publish them. I have stories that I wrote 15 years ago gathering dust on the shelf (literally) that I still plan to rework someday. So, if you really love a story, you can come back and revise it when your writing is where it needs to be to do the story justice. Also, I have stories on my shelf that I love... that I really enjoyed writing... that will never see the light of day. And I'm okay with that, too. ♥

[deadpresidents]

I didn't want to include this in my answer to the question asking for recommendations about books on North Korea, but can't help sharing this incredible book with everyone: Kim Jong Il: The Lodestar of the 21st Century. When I say it is "incredible", I don't mean that it's a really good, fair, balanced biography about North Korea's dearly-departed "Dear Leader". I mean "incredible" in the literal definition of that word.

I don't remember if I found this book in a used bookstore in Los Angeles or in Sacramento, but I bought it immediately because it's an English-language edition of the pure, ridiculous web of propaganda that North Korea builds around its leaders. When you open the book, you find painfully-posed photos of Kim Jong Il giving "on-the-spot guidance" to people who are doing various jobs. Then, before you even reach the table of contents, there are several pages featuring songs that Kim Jong Il, of course, supposedly wrote the lyrics and music for. Of course, that would just be child's play for Kim considering he wrote over 1,500 books and six full-length operas while he was in college, according to North Korea. I'm not sure if he did that on the same day that he supposedly made 11 holes-in-one while playing a round of golf, but it seems likely.

It's impossible to relate all of the amazing things that Kim Jong Il did that made him "The Lodestar of the 21st Century," so I'll just share some of the chapter titles in this totally accurate biography: "A Man of Loyalty and Filial Piety, A Master of Pen and Sword"; "Uncommon Ideological and Theoretical Intellect"; "A Master of the Juche Idea"; "The Quintessence of the Thought of Our Time"; "A Paragon of Present-Day Statesman"; "The General Leader of Socialist Construction".

That's just a quick peek into his greatness -- and this is only the first volume of this biography, so I can only imagine what else we could learn about -- and from -- such a paragon of present-day statesmen! I feel improvement just from having the book on my shelf.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

OOR 2004 - Nr 19 - Rammstein interview

Rammstein <The claim that Germans have no humor is outdated>

Three years after Mutter, Rammstein comes on Reise, Reise with a more human sound. Guitarist Richard Kruspe explains why openly laughing is allowed.

by Mark van Schaick

Has Rammstein gone soft with Reise, Reise? Not exactly, given the criticism of first single Mein Teil and its accompanying video clip. But the Berlin group has certainly changed. Look at those photos. The militaristic and post-apocalyptic poses have made way for a more droll image. They shot a few more series: at the edge of a swimming pool, on the beach, in the sauna and in a bullfighting arena. And listen to Amerika, and Amore, and the title track of Reise, Reise. They are accessible and catchy tracks with a double meaning. Mein Teil is also more than just the story of the German cannibal and his victim (see 'Mein Teil'). Richard Kruspe (37) calls it self-awareness. In 2004, Rammstein dares to distance itself from itself.

Los is Kruspe's favorite new song. It is also the clearest proof that Reise, Reise is a different album than Sehnsucht (1997) and Mutter (2001). Kruspe already wrote it for Mutter, but it remained on the shelf until they decided to play the riff acoustically. "It's not what you'd expect from a German band, especially this German band. It's a simple, AC/DC-like riff, which when played acoustically gives it a bluesy feel. It's unlike anything we've had before done,” says Kruspe. And yet Rammstein, unmistakable.

"We decided that a few things had to be different when making this album. For me personally, this first of all meant that we had to work less tensely. Previously, the aggression in the music was paramount and the mutual friction in the band was also an important factor in the recording process. This time we consciously tried to leave the egos at the door. To give each other some space. And I think that is why this album sounds a bit more human than its predecessors. We used fewer machines, that was also a goal in itself. The live feeling had to be included. No more having to figure out our own songs afterwards because we had been cutting and pasting too much.

We used to be more at each other's throats because... everyone had their hang-ups and because in a band of six people you simply have clashing characters. Rammstein has no leader. All six of us are equal and this means that each individual fights for his place and sometimes there are endless discussions. That causes problems. In fact, it can lead to major crises. At the time of Mutter I had very clear ideas about what the music should and should not sound like. I was quite rigid about that, but fortunately at a certain point I realized that I had to let go and see the whole picture - a dynamic group of six people. It was a particularly intense period during which I finally decided to live in New York. I literally had to distance myself."

Kruspe was not the only one who struggled with his place within the democratic whole that is Rammstein. Each band member has chosen a form of self-therapy.

"It's quite something, of course. Over the years you get a certain vision of your work and your music, which does not necessarily correspond to that of the five others. Just deal with that. When I once started the project - because Rammstein was a project, I didn't have a permanent band in mind - my starting point was that I wanted to work with equal musicians. Everyone had the same input. That's how it stayed and gradually no one ever let themselves be ordered by someone else. But eh...Between people, there is always some kind of chemistry. Men, women, it doesn't matter. With the six of us, that chemistry is quite explosive."

This means that Rammstein is standing at the mixing desk in the studio. "Yes! More bass! More guitar! More drums! That's really how it goes. That's why we have to have a producer [for Reise, Reise it was just like on the previous studio albums Jacob Hellner]. He gets twenty, thirty percent more from the songs. And otherwise the work would never be finished. What we do notice, now, after ten years, is that some of us have become less fanatical. Not everyone has an opinion about every aspect of the music. That's not possible either. But to admit that you have to turn off your ego. Anyway, that's happened now. For the new album we wrote more as a band. That's different than before and that's important, because when you write as a band, you can discussions are easier."

Kruspe does not discuss the lyrics: "Till actually writes poems, not lyrics. Sometimes they fit, sometimes they don't. That's simple. Some of his poems have nothing to do with my feelings, but have such a strong story that I can completely agree with it. It helps that I have known Till for about eighteen years. I know where a text like Stein Um Stein comes from. A man who bricks up his wife because he doesn't want to lose her. The biggest problem for a person is letting go. That even plays a role in Mein Teil. Giving things away, giving up, distancing yourself. Very difficult. A theme like that means that I can identify with that text. That's enough."

So Rammstein was initially a project. Kruspe once shared an apartment with Oliver Riedel (bass) and Christoph Schneider (drums). Together they started developing musical ideas, without even an inkling of worldwide success. Second guitarist Paul Landers (real name: Henry Hirsch 1)), singer Till Lindemann and keyboardist Christian 'Flake' Lorenz joined them later; the latter only under the necessary pressure.

Kruspe: "With Mutter, Rammstein has made a big leap, especially in Europe. We have become a stadium band. But we never thought about any success whatsoever. It started with an idea. We wanted to try everything. Success or no success, great become or stay small, that didn't occur to us. A band has its own dynamic, you can't plan that. When we got success that was nice, but what do you do with it? A person has to follow his intuition. Even if after ten years you are no longer as free as when you started, but you still have to try to continue working from a certain naivety. Switch back to the time when you were uninhibited about your music. It was Picasso who said later in life that he had spent his entire life going back to painting like a child again. That's it: learn everything and forget it again. We try and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Of course you can't take it too literally, because you grow as a person and you become always influenced by new things. But it's a good starting point."

That said, Rammstein isn't enough to fully satisfy any of the members' creativity. Kruspe doesn't want to limit himself, so he puts some of the music he writes aside for other projects. "New York helps me with that. When I'm there, I'm not so on top of Rammstein. And that makes it easier for me to write and play. In a way, I've already put this album behind me and am working on new ideas. I'm working on it now with... I can't say too much about it. Not a band, but a nice project that will interest people."

Second single from Reise, Reise is Amerika, with the irresistibly cheerful chorus 'We're all living in Amerika, Amerika ist wunderbar' (later on it becomes 'We're all living in Amerika, Coca-Cola, Wonderbra').

"The claim that Germans have no humor is outdated. Germany has become self-conscious in the last ten years - and humor comes when one develops self-awareness. America comes directly from our band humor. It is not a political statement, we don't do that.

I believe that everything in life should be in balance. You don't eat the whole cake, a slice is enough. A look at America shows us that there is a lot of imbalance there. America controls the entire world and that's a bit much. But it is not a black and white story. It also depends on the people themselves, in the US and abroad. I remember the first time I drank Coca-Cola. Man, that was cool. It tasted good, it felt good, the marketing of that brand worked perfectly for me. That's nice, isn't it? It's just done well. Now I know how much sugar is in it, how bad it is for you. I make a choice. Anyone can do that. Coca-Cola, Hollywood... It doesn't take much effort to look beyond that."

Rammstein broke through in America with Sehnsucht. David Lynch used the group in his film Lost Highway and a Lollapalooza tour did the rest. Kruspe: "I think that the theme and visualization of Sehnsucht came at exactly the right time for many American young people. However, in America everything moves very quickly. You can suddenly be successful, but also quickly forgotten. An American band must therefore tour endlessly, visit radio shows, make noise. As a German band, this is impossible, because you already put a lot of energy into your own country and Europe. When we toured for Mutter, we noticed that we simply no longer had the strength to tell the whole story again in America. Plus, after September 11, 2001, America took a much more cautious stance towards foreign groups. Patriotism was rampant, even when it came to pop music. Now it could be possible again. Rammstein has a certain cult status Rammstein is cool, you know. And in Germany it helps if you prove yourself in the US. They then look at you differently. America remains the largest music market; if you are big in Europe, then you want to go there. Not for the music itself. Interesting trends and developments no longer come from the States."

At the time of their first album Herzeleid (1995), Rammstein was a band from 'the former East Berlin'. Nowadays those words have little value. Kruspe has seen Berlin change. "West Berlin was another world. The capital of darkness. A dark, depressive atmosphere. When I ended up there, I didn't feel at ease at all. [Kruspe fled via Hungary and Austria shortly before the fall of the wall from east to west.] Yes, West Berlin was essentially worse than East Berlin. Now you can also find a lot of cheerfulness in the city. East and west have drawn together and that gloomy thing that David Bowie, Iggy Pop and Nick Cave looked for on purpose that is largely a thing of the past."

"I am someone who feels at home somewhere quite quickly. Not in the sense of family or friends, but in a general sense. In New York it is easy to meet people, but it is very difficult to make friends. The city has so much energy, which I don't feel in Berlin. In New York, capital of the world, you want to go outside and feel part of something bigger, of a whole. In your apartment you feel lonely. In Berlin, capital of Germany, it is the other way around. There you feel lonely when you walk on the street and it's nice to be at home. Now I still fly back and forth. A month here, a month there, so I can't say that I feel completely at home in New York. I am someone who tries to live intuitively. I went from the countryside to the Berlin suburbs, then to Berlin itself, now to New York... I am a wanderer. After 25 years in and around Berlin 2), I also felt the call of other places ."

Back to Los for a moment. What sets that song apart from the rest of Rammstein's repertoire is the primal feeling that emanates from that acoustic riff. No associations with drinking and sailor songs, but American roots. Yet Kruspe says: "I have never been a fan of American rock culture. I liked English hard rock much more than American hard rock. Only with bands like Faith No MOre and 24-7 Spyz did I start listening to Americans. Metal in itself bored me. The aggression of Metallica, for example, did appeal to me, but I went more for the melodies of Judas Priest. What Americans I like now? Queens or The Stone Age. Dave Grohl. But I listen more to the latest Killing Joke or The Cure.

My own guitar sound remains very metal. Why? Well, why do men prefer to ride a Harley... A metal guitar wall is the nicest thing there is. It makes me lose my inner aggression. But you won't see me fiddling around for hours on all kinds of guitar runs, I find that really annoying. I once studied guitar for a year or two to get better, but don't ask me about my guitar heroes. I find Depeche Mode's Martin Gore infinitely more inspiring than any guitarist."

Reise, Reise will be released on September 27. Rammstein will play in Ahoy, Rotterdam on November 4 and 5.

--

Mein Teil

“They've got a sense of humor, those guys from Rammstein,” says Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys as he points to the fork and knife on the cover of Mein Teil (My Member), the first single from the album Reise Reise . The Pet Shop Boys made two remixes of the song at the request of the Germans. The illustration may seem funny, but the song - a hard and melodic song by Rammstein standards - is a serious tribute to the German cannibal and his dinner companion from a few years ago. Two decent middle-aged gentlemen - one hungry for man meat, the other offering himself as a meal - find each other on the internet. After some emails back and forth, they decide to make their lifelong dream come true. Before one goes into the freezer, they cut off the member of one together, fry it in oil and garlic and eat it. And that is true love, says Rammstein. That's why they call Mein Teil a love song.

Unlike the sinister duo, Rammstein and the Pet Shop Boys did not meet in cyberspace, but through a mutual acquaintance, German composer Torsten Rasch. Tennant: "We were impressed by Mein Herz Brennt, the song cycle that Rasch based on songs by Rammstein. That's why we recently asked him to make some film music with us." The Pet Shop Boys had been fans of the Berlin six-piece for years. Their conversations with the composer, who is friends with members of Rammstein, showed a mutual appreciation. "At one point Rasch suggested that we edit a Rammstein track," says Neil Tennant. That track became Mein Teil.

The synth duo has upped the tempo of the Wagnerian track, replacing Schneider's monumental drum parts with energetic techno beats. The Fassbinder soundtrack-like voices of sirens and the sounds of knife sharpening have made them even more prominent than in the original version. You can't call the remixes scary, but they clearly reflect what the eaten German probably heard in his head, thanks to all the antifreeze, schnapps and sleeping tablets he took to undergo the bizarre act.

---

Sea shanties & Drinking buddies

Schlagers, Rammstein, Reise, Reise

Of course there is no doubt that you are hearing Rammstein when you put on Reise, Reise. But where Sehnsucht and Mutter aimed directly at the metal and industrial audience with their ever-increasing bombast, the human element is given more space on this fourth studio album. That means fewer computers and electronics; a more traditional approach, if you will. Some songs are kept smaller than you are used to. Los even floats on an acoustic guitar riff and the concept of 'rest' no longer only serves the threat and dynamics. And even though the riffs in the heavy tracks like Mein Teil or Keine Lust ('Mir ist kalt'), Stein um Stein or Morgenstern are again sky-high and recorded fabulously (regular producer Jacob Hellner and mixer Stefan Glaumann), Reise, Reise can appeal to a broader audience than its predecessors. The choruses of Morgenstern and the title track are a hit with anyone with a bit of sailor's blood in their veins and that of America is perfect for drunkards who are not afraid to declaim trodden social-critical observations. Back to back with America is Moskau, which shows Rammstein at his most festive. On Mutter the ballad (Nebel) closed the album. On Reise, Reise the point of rest comes earlier: Ohne Dich, a song as gray as a drizzly November morning. That song is followed by 'love song' Amore, which is also played largely subdued and which refers to the theme of Mein Teil. In summary: no big surprises, enough variety, a solid new Rammstein.

--

1) Article really says 'Henry Hirsch', we know it is 'Heiko Hiersche'

2) i'm not sure if Richard means this literal, because 25 years at this point would mean that he was in Berlin from age 12, and i don't think that was the case, but maybe he means it more broadly

--

List of other Rammstein OOR interviews

[lordisitmine]

about the author

I saw this going around and decided to do it even though literally no one asked lmao

1 . How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I've been writing short stories and developing characters since I was about eight years old, but when I was twelve or thirteen I was really into the Teen Titans animated series, and I wrote a story about an OC I had made (meant to be a self-insert) and Robin being in love. I had NO IDEA it was a thing other people did or that it was called fanfiction but looking back that's definitely what it was.

And then two or so years later, I was introduced to fanfiction through a friend and Tumblr and all of that. And you can bet as soon as I realised this was a thing I could do with any number of characters, and that I had a knack for it, I was INSTANTLY on it like white on rice.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

As far as my posted fics on AO3, eleven fandoms. But it's probably more like fifteen? Sixteen? There are stories I've taken down and ones I wrote for friends back in the day for fandoms I was never even in.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

If you count the infamous self-insertxRobin story (that I have since lost the file for, which is devastating), about sixteen years. If you don't count that, then about thirteen years. I'm almost thirty years old so... that's about half of my lifetime now.... *wheezes*

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I read WAY more than I write because writing takes effort and reading does not! Also, reading fanfiction is a great way for me to get in the head-space to write, so it's actually part of my process, in a roundabout way.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

Just one? Oh boy. Honestly, just proper sentence structure: e.g. "Using commas instead of periods at the end of quotations ->, <-" they said. And using fewer em dashes and italics, (thought not that many fewer oop). And shortening my sentences, not allowing them to go on and on forever. I feel that a lot of writing just comes naturally to me, and I do it so much that any improvement in voice and tone has just happened gradually, so it's hard to pin down. But I've improved in those ways too for sure, just by virtue of doing the thing repeatedly for many years.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I cannot even think of one that is remotely weird. I'm sorry to say I don't write a lot of truly weird things- I write alternate canon/canon divergence fics, so I'm never in the wild AU territory. Stuff like undergarments in the Victorian era and how long certain wounds take to heal are about as weird as it gets for me. I did look up the shelf life of jarred pickles for a fic, once. But again, that isn't really weird at all by any stretch of the imagination.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love all my comments equally. I really do especially like it when people tell me their favourite specific scenes or lines, and kind of do commentary on what they were thinking/feeling while reading, as wel as guess/predict what's going to happen next. But again, even if a comment is simply "<3" or "AAAA", it brightens my day immensely. You should always send a comment if you can, authors need them to live.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Again, literally nothing I write about is really that fringe to begin with, so it's hard to answer this question. I guess if you want to count the intricacies of Faustian bargains as I head-canon them to work, and like, made-up occult rituals and blood magic, then sure, that's probably the most fringe thing I write about, I guess.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Anything that doesn't ultimately have a happy ending! Major character death! I cannot even conceive of how I would force myself to write those things!! I am a softy of the Highest Order who needs happy endings in my things! I do not enjoy tragedy, I do not fuck with main character death/permanent break-ups! If it happens in canon I will literally be the first one writing a fix-it. I've done it before, and I will do it again!

10. What is the easiest type?

Case-fic. Give me a character solving a mystery any day. I love committing fictional murder and then sending the blorbos off to find the fictional bad guys. It's the easiest thing in the world for me to come up with a conspiracy and a plot to take over the world and then have the protags come in and fuck shit up for the villains. I love it to death. It's my bread and butter.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I write anywhere and everywhere. At home (at my desk, on the couch, in bed), at the library, in the waiting room at the doctor's office. I use Microsoft word on my PC, my laptop, and my phone. I stopped using Google docs because of data scraping for AI and the fact they're beginning to censor explicit content, which is insane, it's people's private docs, fuck off! honestly, Microsoft probably isn't any better but it's what I'm used to so I'm kind of stuck with it, at least for the time being.

I do a lot of writing by hand! Like, a LOT. I always have, since I started writing as a kid when I didn't have access to my own private computer (the 2000s were a different time). I love it very dearly and have a whole bin of notebooks under my bed full of drafts and things. I get complemented on my penmanship a lot, and that's why, lmao.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I've been in fandom a long time, and I was never into A/B/O. No judgment, I just didn't get the appeal. But that changed about six or seven months ago, and now I think I'd like to try my hand at writing it, having read a bunch of it now and have a better idea of how it works/what the rules and tropes are. I'm kind of obsessed with it, honestly.

13. What made you choose your username?

Way back in the distant, dark time of 2013, when I sat down to make an ff.net (remember fanfiction.net?) account, I was deep in my Supernatural phase. And reader, I was what we used to call a Sam Girl. And at the time, one of my favourite songs that reminded me of Sam Winchester was Lord Is It Mine by the band Supertramp. The rest is history.

I tag any writer who sees this and wants to do it!

[sugar-omi]

(swiftie asker) EEEEEE YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME THAT YOU LIKE ALL MY SILLY SWIFTPILLED BRAIN WORMS… all your responses to asks that i’ve seen over the months i’ve been here are always hard-hitting and boy oh BOY did these hit me hard kajkjdsjfld so all of this to say. thank you for letting me ramble like this and actually taking my ideas and running with them??? i literally feel so honored aksjksfjd,, so please, feel free to match my writing freak and yap along with me because it’s always an absolute pleasure to see what you have to say about my ideas ehhehehe

PLEASEEEE THE DLC ALWAYS HURTS ME SO BAD, BECAUSE ONCE THE SILK-LINED CIVILITY IS GONE ALL HE CAN BE TOWARDS YOU IS BITTER, BECAUSE IT SEEMS THAT’S THE ONLY WAY YOU’LL LISTEN TO HIM EVEN IF IT’S NOT WHAT HE WANTS. AND WHEN THE DAY’S DONE HE KNOWS HE’D STILL RUN TO YOU IF YOU SO MUCH AS LIFTED A HAND TO BECKON HIM, KNOWING HE WOULD FIND YOU NO MATTER HOW LONG IT’S BEEN EVEN IF YOU WOULDN’T DO THE SAME GODDDDD IT HITS YA RIGHT IN THE JUGULAR

no because . the other night i was listening to the anthology and ‘peter’ started playing, and HOLY FUCK IF I WASN’T BAWLING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE BAXTER /IMMEDIATELY/ CAME TO MIND??? BECAUSE NOT ONLY DOES THE SONG ITSELF TIE INTO AND SORT OF CONCLUDE THE FOLKLORE LOVE TRIANGLE…BUT IN THE CONTEXT OF OLBA IT’D BE MC MOVING ON AND STILL BEING IN LOVE/WANTING BAXTER IN THEIR LIFE BUT BEING UNABLE TO WAIT ANY LONGER…because they spent five years hoping he’d call, and they’re just so /tired/ of it — they can give him their patience, but they can’t fix him…and they won’t waste their life trying.

“and i won’t confess that i waited, but i let the lamp burn” = mc trying to reach out and willing baxter to come back… “as the men masqueraded, i hoped you’d return” = mc wanting him to come back even as life goes on and they keep on keeping on… “with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’ve learned” = the fantasy of baxter finally putting down roots and /staying/ for once… “cause love’s never lost when perspective is earned” = mc still holding on to the memories despite realizing what baxter was really doing and how much they were hurt by it… “AND YOU SAID YOU’D COME AND GET ME BUT YOU WERE 25” = MC WAITING ALL THAT TIME FOR HIM AND HE NEVER SHOWED, BECAUSE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TEMPORARY… “AND THE SHELF LIFE OF THOSE FANTASIES HAS EXPIRED” = MC NO LONGER BEING ABLE TO SUSTAIN THEIR LOVE FOR HIM WITH JUST THE MEMORIES HE LEFT THEM… “LOST TO THE LOST BOYS CHAPTER OF YOUR LIFE” = MC AND THE REST OF SUNSET BIRD BEING JUST ANOTHER CHAPTER IN BAXTER’S LIFE TO BE SHELVED AND TUCKED AWAY IN FAVOR OF THE NEXT PAGES… “FORGIVE ME PETER, PLEASE KNOW THAT I TRIED TO HOLD ON TO THE DAYS WHEN YOU WERE MINE” = MC SEEMINGLY BEING THE ONLY ONE STILL HOLDING ON TO THOSE SUMMER DAYS LONG GONE, AND FUCK IF THEY DIDN’T /TRY/… “BUT THE PERSON WHO SITS BY THE WINDOW HAS TURNED OUT THE LIGHT” = MC FINALLY BEING FINISHED WITH WAITING AND BEING UNABLE TO KEEP HOLDING OUT FOR SOMEONE THAT WON’T SHOW… can you tell i’m absolutely fucking insane about tswift bridges. hhahhaha. i am so Normal and Ordinary about these songs i swear

good grief this message got long. i am So sorry for all the text i simply have many things to say and am the bearer of the curse (the curse being both olba hyperfixation and "swiftie since 2014" disease)

YESS I WOULD LOVE TO MATCH YOUR FREAK 🤭🤝🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

ALSO OMFG YOU REMINDED ME OF THE FIC I WROTE FOR ENGLISH.... I was your first idea but with derek.... and MC got tired of waiting on derek n ended up with cove. my teachers comment was so funny, he said he was hanging on the edge of his seat waiting for MC n derek to get together 😂

but I love the whole "I couldn't wait for you anymore" troupe with derek and baxter. it's so painful, but so true.

and omg I'm listening to Peter now and omfg.... my heart is on the FLOOR.

it's so baxter... "I thought it was just goodbye for now / you said you were gonna grow up and come find me"

MC holding onto the hope that he'd come back once he was ready for a serious relationship.

"when crossing your jet stream, we both did the best we could do, under the same moon" COMING BACK TOGETHER WHEN YOURE MARRYING COVE AND RECOGNIZING THAT YOU DID YOUR BEST TO "LOVE" EACH OTHER AND CHERISH YOUR TIME TOGETHER....

i cant help but wanna associate "words from the mouths of babies, oceans deep. but never to keep" with baxter because he is a babe. he's so handsome, so suave...

he never made promises, he knows he would be damned if he made promises he knew he wouldn't keep.

but when he smiles at you like that, holds your hand like that, kisses you so softly, that blush far too darling on his porcelain cheeks for your heart to not belong to him... how could you not think that this is love. and that him walking you to your door isn't a promise.

and when he smiles, so glad that you missed him when he suddenly came to let you know he's back from visiting a friend of his parents in the middle of the night. how could this not be more. how could this not be him gifting his heart to you on a fancy platter...

"please know i tried to hold on to the days you were mine" MC and baxter trying to hold onto the days they spent together, because even though baxter left and cruelly shrugged you off.. he cherished it so much.

fuck, he literally keeps the souvenir you get him/he buys himself in the tourism moment (I forget what it's called. i think that's it?)

you can't tell me he didn't look at the item and cry. I know I would. I know his heart clenched so tightly it took his breath away, I know his eyes stung and I know he guilt ate him up in all its gluttony and it swallowed him with a satisfied sigh, eager to eat him up again once he's picked up the pieces of his broke heart tonight...

and I know his insecurities hugged him to their chest and carded their fingers through his hand, petted his check and whispered in his ear until even in the morning he still feels the sick touch of it.

and I know the frustration at what you could've had by now, and all the things he's missed out on with you, all those pretty smiles you used to give him he's missed... who wouldn't be angry about that.

reminding himself how fucking stupid he is for not letting himself be weak just once. that you wouldn't have hurt him, and that what he did was so fucking stupid.

but still reminding himself that he wouldn't have been good enough for you, that he's too broken, that his relationships are too fractured and damaged and dark for someone so sweet as you.

that the walls around his life are too high for your light to shine and he'd only dim you down, keeping your light for himself...

that'd be too selfish. he couldn't be that selfish.

"but the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light" YOU FOUND YOUR HAPPINESS WITH COVE AND ARE NO LONGER LOOKING BACK AT HIM..... THAT YOUR FUTURE IS FINALLY IN FRONT OF YOU AND NOT BEHIND YOU....

anyway. imma go finish listening to loml bc "who's gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate" is DEVASTATINGLY BAXTER CODED AND WE GOTTA TALK ABT IT

[acorrespondence]

A continuation of my answer to @love-leah’s ask here.

This little bit of backstory is pretty much ripped directly from a reply to @universewoman’s recent comment on Chapter 5, because I tired myself out writing that seven paragraph essay, ha. It’s about Boyd’s decision to get his tattoo covered up.

The whole story kind of evolved from the question of what would have to happen to get Boyd to cover up his tattoo. When I first wrote out the bit where Boyd has his crisis of conscience on the bathroom floor, it was in present tense and there was a lot more context to the scene, including Boyd resisting getting the cover-up for days until he walked in on Raylan just lying on the couch, talking to baby Pem where she’s propped on his chest—like, a completely normal thing to do with babies that Boyd’s gonna walk in on countless times for as long as he and his kid are living in Raylan’s apartment—and he’s like oh my god fuck it, I will literally die if I have to watch this man being adorable with my baby every day of my life and I don’t get to fuck him. And he comes in with the raven on his shoulder the next day. Because Boyd wasn’t going to cover that shit up unless he gets something out of it. And then, of course, you have this scene three years later where the meaning of the bird changes and he actually experiences real regret.

And here’s a little bonus excerpt from the junk pile since there’s no way I can fit it into the fic:

Boyd calls the Marshals in East Texas, where Raylan last told his mama he was living before she died, and they transfer him over to the Miami office. He says it’s about Raylan’s uncle, which it’s not, because Raylan’s uncle is already dead.

It’s not long before Raylan picks up the line transfer. “Who the hell’s this?” he asks suspiciously.

“Raylan?”

“Boyd?” The suspicion twists into concern. “What’s the matter? Why you callin?”

“Tell you the truth, Raylan, I had no earthly idea what else to do.”

“Well that’s new. Why’s your voice sound like that?”

“I’d imagine it’s because I been cryin.”

“What you doin that for?”

Boyd looks down at Pemberley, her miserable little face all scrunched up and red, blubbering her little heart out all over his nice corduroy jacket. “I am lost, Raylan.” He pauses. “Well, not in any literal sense, I’m in Louisville.” He moves the receiver down by his chin so he can shush Pemberley, who’s wailing directly into his opposite ear. He bounces her around on his hip, trying to quiet her. “Shh. Shh, darlin.”

“Wait,” says Raylan, “that’s your baby?”

“Yeah.” Boyd remembers to put the phone back to his mouth. “My little girl, Pemberley.”

“Jesus.”

“I know,” Boyd says wryly, still sniffling himself.

“Guess I’ve heard worse. You try feedin her?”

“I mashed up a banana for her in a plastic bag, so there’s no true way to ascertain if she ain’t hungry or if she just has standards.”

Raylan laughs. Boyd watches a woman in a blazer cross the whole bank of phones, to the one furthest removed from Pemberley’s dulcet tones. “So,” Raylan says, and his voice is hushed now, like he’s crowded in close to the phone. “You lit out of there for good?”

“‘Less I get dragged back, I suppose.” Boyd takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know anyone else outside Kentucky, Raylan. I was hopin...”

He lets the question hang unasked, and Raylan doesn’t bother to answer. “You got money? Enough to get you to Florida?”

“I believe so, excepting extraordinary circumstances.”

“All right, you got a pen?” Boyd doesn’t, but he finds one, on the little shelf screwed to the wall under the phone box. Raylan reels off a number different to the one the Texas Marshals gave him. Juggling Pemberley and the bag he packed, Boyd copies it carefully onto the back of his own hand. “That goes straight to my desk at the courthouse. Call me when you get to the station.”

[greensagephase]

Hi!!! First, how are youu??! I hope you are doing find. Second, I LOVE NON VIOLENT COMMUNICATION SO FREAKING MUCH!! I mean honestly, majestic piece of work. I would frame it or printed out to have it in a really cute book in my shelf. You are amazing.

Also, I find it adorable when you apologise for the word count, because it is like: non sense, I want moorre, gimme all the words your brain creates into this beautiful poetry. Really, it is amazing.

Lastly, I hope I am not overstepping, but, do you have any advice on how to start writing? Because I've had this idea for months, and I feel like it is really good. But I sometimes can't find the way to translate the things I picture in my brain to paper, you know? So, I just wanted to ask you, because your story really made me want to write mine.

Anyway, love yaaa. You don't have to answer if you don't want to ❤️. Apologies for my English, it isn't my first language

Hiii, V!!! I’m doing great today, thank you!! I hope you’re having a fantastic day/night!! (Also, sorry for taking a moment to reply to your ask but I wanted to sit down and make sure what I'm saying makes sense regarding the writing!)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 🥹 You’re so sweet, truly!!! I’m screaming about the framing or printing out the story into a book 😭 (lowkey, I might do that once the fic is done as it’s my best writing so far and I’m proud of it, so thank you for the idea)!! You’re too kind!!!🥺

And aww, thank you!! The word count always makes me feel guilty! I feel like in a way, I’m forcing readers to read long chapters, even though I know I’m not forcing anyone physically. I have a few readers who always reassure me it’s okay, so I’m slowly learning to accept that some of my chapters are and might continue to be longer than the average length of fanfic chapters lol!

As to the last bit, you’re not overstepping at all!! I’m so happy you’re writing your own fic, and I’m so, so touched that NC made you want to write it!!!! Seriously, this alone made my day!! Thank you!!

On how to start writing (I apologize for how long my response is but hopefully I can be somewhat helpful), I have some advice and I’m also sharing my own process for writing a NC chapter specifically since the process is more concrete than it is for my other short and standalone pieces.

One, I recommend simply starting!! I was reluctant to write my first ATSV work because I hadn’t written fanfic in many years and all I had been writing was either academic or for my original novels (not published but I hope one day they are). From experience, I also know posting fanfic online is or can be a commitment. I never want to be a writer that leaves a fic halfway done because as a fanfic reader, I’ve experienced that pain too many times 😭, so I knew if I posted anything that was longer than one part, I was going to stick with it no matter the ups and downs of my life. Ultimately, I decided to push past everything, even though I had nothing beyond the first chapter of this initial idea. I had an itch and needed to scratch it, so I gave in and literally wrote it on a car ride in my notes app lol not caring if I even posted it. That work is not published, it never was (it’s still on my notes app and it’ll probably stay there forever lol), but it helped me immensely with finding my voice and getting comfortable writing fanfic again. A few days after writing that, I was working on the first NC chapter! So, just start writing and don’t think about it. Brain dump everything on a page that you have so far without worrying about how well it’s written yet!

Two, I recommend doing a writing exercise. It doesn’t have to be about your fanfic, just write about something and get your writing juices going. Sometimes we overthink and it’s the one thing holding us back! You can easily find some short writing prompts on here, so if you’re interested in that, just search some up! This helps warm you up and once again, get more comfortable with writing.

My process:

Consider using outlines. I use these especially with NC because it’s a multiple parts work and has a clear story line. These are the best thing ever! I've also seen other people use mind maps, but I prefer outlines because they're more organized in my opinion.

I start the outline with the “bones” or foundation of the work. These are the main points/events of the writing piece. This is anything from a big event like an action moment with a villain to a character chilling alone on a rooftop, but they can also be pieces of dialogue that are essential to the chapter. I usually have some snippets already planned out in my head, so I go ahead and include those in this part. So I start by doing this, writing each point in chronological order, at least the way it starts out. Sometimes it changes with new main points being added or some omitted during the process and later on in editing. That’s okay! But either way, writing the events in chronological order helps keep everything organized and allows me to physically see the layout/flow of the chapter so far, and make changes to it.

I then go back and add the “meat.” This is all the details surrounding the main point that I have in mind already. This part becomes bigger once I've laid out the first layer of details.

Here’s an example from one of my old outlines, please excuse the handwriting and how messy it may seem. Usually I’m planning and writing all my thoughts in a rush because my brain is thinking faster than my hand is moving lol (I’m like “write that down, write that down!”)

The main point is that Miguel wakes up. Everything else is the meat of that scene and you can see I even have that one snippet of dialogue that I had stuck in my brain.

When I get to the writing on my laptop, I follow my outline and by the end of a writing session, I have a scene that I’m happy with. I do go back and edit, and usually this is when I do my best ✨magic.✨ I think the reason for that is that the idea/scene is not stuck in my head anymore and I can focus entirely on the other details that truly capture the mood of the scene perfectly to how I see it play out in my head, down to how the characters are sitting and looking at each other to the weather outside. This is why I highly suggest that you just write what you have so far and allow your brain to do its magic, it'll help you capture your story from brain to paper!

I hope this helps a bit! And of course, don’t stress too much on it! Writing should be fun and not stressful! Be kind to your writing and have fun creating!

Once you post your fanfic, pls tag me! 😊 I'm trying to read more fanfic these days, so I'd love to read yours! And if you have other questions that I can help you with, send them my way! I’m not an expert but sometimes just talking with someone helps a lot! Also, no need to apologize about your English!! It’s great!!! 🥰 I hope you have a great weekend, V!! 💞💞