#i know it’s not an easy time of year for lots of us for many reasons

[chaotic-mystery]

Hotline to Heaven | Joel Miller x reader

✧ Summary: An inquisitive man gets more than what he's used to when he pushes the wrong number on a phone sex hotline.

✧ Content Warnings: MDNI ! 18+ only. dom!reader, sub!joel, pre outbreak, empty house means he's up to no good, porn connoisseur, phone sex, dirty talk ( i mean duh) mutual masturbation, swearing, orgasm denial, safeword mentioned but not used, talking him through it this time, a little aftercare, slight mention of one of my favorite movies bc I know Joel would've liked it too.

✧ Authors Note: This is my submission for @wannab-urs DMAMC 2025 that you can find the masterlist here. A goal of mine this year is to step out of my writing bubble when it comes to challenges and write things I normally wouldn't on my own. If you read my work, you know this is a roles reversed situation for me and I'm nervous to share it but also excited! Thank you, Gin, for letting me be a part of this, I love you <3 As always big ups to my twin for beta reading for me, love you, Ali.

red line divider | cover and matching dividers made by (Ali) & I |

✧ WC: 2.4K | masterlist | requests | update blog | ✧

Being a single dad was not an easy job, but Joel made it work somehow. With lots and lots of pancakes and promised sleepovers at friends houses if Sarah kept her grades up. 

Another Friday night at home alone while Sarah was in the next town over, probably hopped up on soda and candy, Joel digs out his laptop from the bag on the floor and sets it up on the cherrywood coffee table. The house was quiet for the most part, the low humming of the dryer down the hallway in the laundry room. 

Booting up the old computer, Joel tilts his head back on the sofa and makes sure his brown curtains are closed along with the white blinds he just put up a few weeks ago. Joel's finger moves against the worn trackpad, opening up the DVD rom to pop in the movie he rented from blockbuster on his drive home from dropping off Sarah. 

Joel reads the cover while it loads to open. His favorite actress being the main character got him all excited and may have been the only reason he rented it to begin with. It definitely wasn’t because she was playing a vampire in a latex bodysuit.

About halfway through the movie and many scenes later of this character being an absolute badass, Joel could feel the growing tension in his jeans. Wanting to take care of the problem to finish the movie he'd grown invested in, he pauses it and opens up a web browser and goes to his tried and true adult website. The amount of pop up ads always annoyed him, he just wanted to find something to watch and keep it moving. 

Until tonight. 

A banner flashes right above the search bar filled with his previous endeavors, the colors immediately catching his eyes. 

“What the hell is this?” He mutters to himself as he watches the words change. 

A number pops up with tiny images of girls in the corner of the banner. Feeling adventurous, he digs out his phone from his pocket and dials the number before it changes to a new ad. 

He’s met with an automated message, overly seductive and giving him the rundown of what he’s getting himself into. His finger hovers over the pound button to confirm he was consenting to this, that he was willing to continue. The line beeps a few times before a new message starts to play. 

”Press one if you want to meet me, the girl next door.” 

The voice changes to a new girl, “press two if you want to fix my leaky pipes.” 

Another different voice, “press three if you want to punish me for not turning in my college essay.”

”Press four to meet me and my best friend, Layla.”

”Hit five if you wanna romp in the hay with me, yeehaw!”

Joel snickers at the generic attempt at a southern accent. 

“Call me into your office by pressing six!”

Joel could hardly contain himself at all the options he was given, and he had three more he’d yet to hear. 

“Select seven to meet me, Vixen the d-“ 

Before the voice finished speaking, his finger pushed a button and he wasn’t sure which one he chose. Frankly, he was excited for any of them.

Your line was ringing and it wasn’t too often it did, no one usually got past Katie and Layla. 

Picking up the phone, you smile when you hear the southern drawl in his words. 

“Have you been a bad boy today?” You almost whisper into the phone before he responds. 

“Y-yes, I have, darlin.” His tone was a little confused, unsure of what he just answered.

You grin and sit up straighter. 

“Well, good thing I’m in the mood to punish you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he doesn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the number he meant to push. He wasn’t really the type of man to want to be told what to do.

From anyone. 

“Darlin’ can you tell me which button I pushed by chance?”

He was trying to be as polite as he could and you were going to have some fun with this. 

“You pushed seven and here I am; Vixen the Dom.” Smirking at the quiet line, you wonder for a split second if he hung up.

“I-I’m sorry…dom? I don’t know if this is really something I’m into. I mean, that’s great if you’re someone who can but that doesn’t sound like me.”

“I get it. You can’t let go of that control, scared to see a new side to yourself. I understand. If you want to hang up and redial I understand.”

Joel hesitates hanging up and he glides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What exactly…would I be getting myself into with you, Vixen?”

What a curious man. 

“You’d give me control, no backtalk, no resisting, you submit to me. There’s a safeword we can use at any point if it gets to be too much for you. At that point I’d stop and we can calm down, just talk. I never get mad at someone using a safe word.”

“A-and what’s the safe word?” The temptation in his voice shows you he’s interested. 

“Hopscotch.” 

His chuckle rings through your ear and makes your face warm, giggling at his reaction. 

“So, you’ve stayed here this long and I can tell you’re curious. Are you going to let me take control of you, I didn’t get your name” You state, trying to guess before he answers.

“Joel. Names Joel. It’s a pleasure to spend the night with you tonight, Vixen.” 

The respect he was giving already showed you how natural it came to him, he was this way in his day to day life. 

“You’re going to be my good boy tonight, Joel?” 

“Y-yes” he hesitantly responds. 

“Yes, ma’am. Repeat it.” Goosebumps raise on your arms and the excitement shakes your core

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to tell you what to think, what to say, I’m going to do everything I want to you until you’re begging me to let you come.” You bite your lip and smirk, your body excited for this phone call. 

“I want you to close your eyes and I want you to grab your bulge and rub it, slowly for me,” You say sternly but seductively, propping your legs up so your knees are bent, freehand resting on your abdomen.

You can hear his belt jingle and some shuffling from the other end of the phone, causing you to smirk. He doesn’t get it, it’s new for him. It was painfully obvious but you decided to take it slow for his first time. 

“I didn’t say to undo your belt and ditch your pants, did I? I said rub your bulge, just rub it.”

“Y-yes ma’am.” His breath was shaky from anticipation and nerves, it was cute. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into with you.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Tell me what you want,” you tease, your fingers dancing above your panty line. 

“I wish you were here right now. Tell me to lay on my back while you get on top and ride my face until I'm begging for air. I want you to use me until you come all over my face and make me clean you up before you ride my big dick. Use me, Ms. Vixen, p-please.” Joel’s whimpers make you feel that boiling heat in your stomach before you feel your panties get wet, for a half second he takes your breath away.

“Ms.Vixen? Hm, you’re learning quickly I see. Reach in your pants and take your cock out for me, get it nice and wet. I want to hear how needy you are for me.”

You hear his belt unbuckle followed by the soft sound of him spitting into his hand, married with a groan of pleasure. 

“Now, you want to be my good boy tonight, right?” You ask and dip your hand inside your panties, softly teasing yourself. This was so unlike you, normally you didn’t want to touch yourself during a call. He was different. 

”You aren’t going to come until I tell you, alright? Think you can handle that, baby?” 

“I can handle that, yes ma’am.”

Hearing the wet sounds from him jerking his cock off makes you grin and a moan almost slips out but you catch yourself and give a small giggle. 

”It’s cute the way you fuck your hand and pretend its my pussy, big grown man just aching to be put in his place. I want to watch your face when I slip your cock inside me, baby. I’ll keep a fistful of your hair so you keep your eyes on me, let me watch you go to another planet when you realize how deep you are.”

Joel moans loudly and he can’t catch his breath as he imagines how good it would feel inside you and to be used by you. 

“Y-yes please, Vixen. Ride my cock and make yourself feel good, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

You circle your clit faster as your legs tremble, your moans swirling together to sound like a beautiful harmony. 

“I can ride you and wrap my hand around your throat while I put my panties in your mouth to keep you quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to hear those pretty whimpers, now would we?”

“Can-can you tell me what your panties look like, darlin’? Please.” Joel stutters out and moans just thinking about it.

Biting your lip, you hold the handset closer to your mouth as you continue fingering your soaked cunt with your other hand.

“They’re lace, black of course. With a little red bow right in front of the waistband. Sick little pervert you are. Makes my pussy so wet thinking about you trying to moan my name but I can’t understand you with them in your mouth. Even when you’re begging for more, begging to come I can’t hear you.”

Joel groans louder and all you can see in your head as your eyes are squeezed shut is how handsome he sounds Just the pretty whimpers he makes has you thinking how good looking he must be, how his dick is so slippery in his fist from all the precum and spit. 

“I bet you’d lose your mind if I pinned your hands down and really took all control from you, wouldn’t you baby? You’d squirm and try to touch me but you can’t, not while I’m playing with you like a toy. You’re my toy, do you hear me? Mine. Say you’re mine while you jerk off.” Your breaths get shorter as you moan softly, finally letting him hear how turned on you are. 

“I’m just your playtoy, Ms.Vixen. Onl-ly yours. I p-promise. Fuck it feels so good, shit.” 

The silk sheets under your skin slide under you as you squirm, giving into him a little more with each beg he cries out. This feels like heaven and you can’t get enough of him. Part of you wanted to stop touching yourself to keep him on the phone longer, partially because you didn’t know if he’d ever call again. 

“Let go of your pretty cock. Don’t touch it and listen to me.” You demand calmly and smirk when you hear him groan in annoyance.

“Is that an attitude I hear?” you ask condescendingly. 

“No ma’am, no ma’am.” he quickly retorts. Good boy. 

“I’ve got two fingers inside me right now but they just don’t compare to your cock I bet. You’d probably keep me up all night and let me turn you every which way but loose, hm? Think you could keep up with me, sweetheart? How about I cuff your hands to the bed and suck your cock until you can’t take it anymore and beg to paint my face with your cum.”

You can hear a slew of profanities and Joel groans almost in pain and he whines, “God dammit that’s so hot. Please let me jerk off, baby. It’s killing me not to touch myself while I think about stuffing you full of my dick. Your perfect body on mine, what a pleasure that would be. Please, may I touch myself?”

Clamping your legs closed so you don’t come yourself, you tell him to continue and soon once more your moans mix together. 

“I-I need to come, Ms.Vixen. Please let me be a goodboy and come, p-please-oh fuckkk-”

“You want to come for me, baby boy? I’m going to have to think about whether you deserve it or not, sweetheart.” 

“Let me show you how good you make me feel, I need you so bad. C’mon baby-oh shittt- please?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you have this aching urge to hear him come and whimper in your ear. Hearing men be so whiny when they come was music to your ears. 

“Go on then, show me the pretty sounds you make when you come, baby. Jerk that fuckin’ cock off while you think about me. Think about coming on my tits, these pretty fucking titties that would look even better with your cock between them. C’mon honey, come for me, right now. Be my favorite toy.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was groaning loudly into the phone, enough to make you cover your mouth and come with him. Couldn’t let him know how down bad he already had you. 

Your ears were ringing slightly but you could still hear the shuffling from his end, probably cleaning himself up and the mess he made. 

“You alright over there, big guy?” You ask, trying to calm your breathing. 

“It was a lot, let’s just say I made a mess” he chuckles and sighs tiredly.

“How was that for your first time being a sub? I tried to take it slow for you.” 

“That was uh, that was the best time I’ve had in a while. You really know what you’re doing, huh? I’d love to call you again, maybe your direct line next time?” 

You shake your head and chuckle at him. Silly boy. 

“I had a fun time tonight, Joel. Maybe if you call me again I’ll think about giving you my phone number.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Vixen. It was a pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night, my good boy.” 

The line goes silent and Joel puts his cellphone down on the couch cushion beside him, taking a deep breath as he circles back over everything he just did. Closing out of the tab and continuing his movie, he enjoyed it but Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you the rest of the night. 

Even when he was in his bed trying to sleep, you consumed his brain and he needed more. 

A lot more, but of course, only if you let him. 

[bellamygifs]

Hey, everyone! I'm quite late this year (or early depending on the point of view, I guess) but it's finally here! I'm sorry I couldn't organize an event in 2024, I was planning to do so in December but unfortunately due to work and life, I had no time but here we are now! I hope you and Bellamy will forgive me for being so late but I still hope we can give out our love to this character, who I know a lot of us still carry in our hearts!

As usually, prompts are open to not just gifs but also headcanons, fanfics, edits, moodboards, meta and anything you feel like creating! After all, the whole point of this is to celebrate our boy!

This event will run from Monday January 27th till Sunday February 2nd!

Bellamy Blake appreciation week 2025 (with an apollogetic look on 2024):

Day 1: Bellamy + home/family: here the idea is rather easy, it can be Bellamy plus what you believed was his home for him or what an ideal one would've been, it can be an AU or a gif/edit from the show that you believed represented his home and family best!

Day 2: Bellamy + Octavia/ Favorite sibling scene: Octavia's an important part of Bellamy's life, one that's controversial and either loved or hated by many of people in the fandom but still the truth remains that at their core they loved each other! Find a favorite scene or dialogue that you believed best described who they were to each other or simple a scene that you enjoyed!

Day 3: Bellamy + favorite outfit: this could be again anything-the blue or the tan shirt, the jacket, pre-ground Bellamy, janitor!Bellamy, desciple!Bellamy looking great in white! Bellamy on the ring! Anything to appreciate our boy's looks!

Day 4: Bellamy + trauma: of course Bellamy has been through a lot and I feel a bit guilty picking that subject up but I think it's important that somebody talked about that boy's feelings (since he himself isn't!). This can be a scene that you thought broke him, a scene where he shows his pain or a scene where he's mentally punishing himself! In other words, it can also be your favorite sad scene!

Day 5: Bellamy + mythology/nerd moment: this is basically celebrating our cute nerdy boy! It can be any scene where our book mythology loving nerd Bell shows his knowledge on ancient greek characters or anything that you love when it comes to this side of his character!

Day 6: Bellamy + poem: this is a bit of a challenge but here I'd like us to try and find the poem that we think best describes Bell; In simple words it can be Bellamy + favorite quote or lyrics, basically whatever you feel like! A poem can also be understood as his poetic take on life and what he thought was his poem on the show (another character or a particular event!) Basically you can run wild and free!

Day 7: Free choice: as usually this can be anything. AU gif or edit, favorite moment, favorite dynamic with other characters, a celebration post about our boy! Whatever comes to mind!

You can tag your creations with #bbaw25 or #bellamyblakeappreciation2025 so we can reblog them!

[hrizantemy]

What did she deserve?

For so long, Nesta had believed she deserved nothing. Nothing but the emptiness, the isolation. She had told herself, time and again, that her existence was a mistake, a burden. What was there for her, after everything she had done? After the mistakes, the anger, the bitterness that had poisoned everything around her?

She should have died. She used to think that, with a conviction that had driven her to dark places. That the world would be better without her. That the people she had hurt, the people she had pushed away, would be better off without the weight of her presence.

It wasn’t just the memories of that time; it was the constant reminder that she had failed so many—her family, her people, even herself. When she closed her eyes, it wasn’t the laughter or the good times she remembered. It was the yelling. The coldness. The disappointment. It was the sharp sting of guilt that never seemed to fade, the feeling that she would never be enough, no matter how hard she tried.

For a long time, Nesta had thought that death was an escape. A way to end the agony of being a shadow in her own life, of being a person who only took up space. She had been so certain, so sure, that the world would be lighter without her in it.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. A small spark of something she couldn’t name had kept her from that final step. And that spark, no matter how weak it felt at times, refused to go out.

What did she deserve?

She still didn’t have the answer, but maybe, just maybe, it was something more than silence. Something more than pain. She had a lot to make up for—she knew that. She had a long road ahead, and the journey wasn’t going to be easy, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest stir of hope that maybe she was worthy of something more than she had allowed herself to believe.

Maybe she deserved to live. Maybe she deserved something like peace. Maybe she even deserved love—though she had no idea how to accept it or what it might look like. But she would find out, one step at a time. She would have to. Because what else was there to do but move forward?

At least, that’s what she told herself, even if she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it yet.

Nesta didn’t truly believe it. She couldn’t. The doubt was too deep, too ingrained in her. But that didn’t mean she stopped hearing it. Because she did hear it. She heard it every time Taryn spoke, every time she said something kind, something that didn’t come with a catch or a look of pity. Taryn’s words were always steady, always filled with conviction, as though she genuinely believed Nesta deserved something more than the endless self-loathing she had carried for years.

It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the certainty with which they were delivered. Taryn never faltered when she spoke to Nesta, never looked away or hesitated. She said what she believed, and it was enough to make Nesta question her own narrative, the one she had crafted for so long, the one that had kept her trapped in darkness.

“You’re worth it,” Taryn would say. “You’re not broken. You’re not a mistake.”

Those words echoed in her mind, louder and louder with each passing day, as if Taryn’s belief in her was strong enough to outlast her own doubt.

But Nesta couldn’t shake the disbelief. She couldn’t imagine it was true. She had been too damaged, too far gone for too long. But still, Taryn’s words lingered, even in the silence between them. They wouldn’t let her completely forget, wouldn’t let her stop wondering if, just maybe, there was something she was missing.

Cassian’s words lingered in Nesta’s mind like an echo she couldn’t escape. “I don’t know why your sisters love you.”

She didn’t have the answer. She didn’t know why Feyre and Elain had loved her, not truly. She never understood why anyone would. She wasn’t someone worth loving, not in her eyes. Not after everything she had done, the ways she had pushed them all away, the bitterness she had held onto for so long. But then there was Taryn, and Nesta couldn’t figure that one out either.

Taryn had said it before, had told her that she loved her. She had said it with such conviction that it felt like the air around them had shifted every time. Taryn said it in the morning, with a soft smile and sleepy eyes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She said it before bed, every night, as if she needed Nesta to hear it one more time before she could sleep. Taryn said it when Nesta was leaving, when she was walking out the door, as if there was no question that she’d be back, as if there was no reason not to. And Taryn said it when Nesta came back, with the same unshakable certainty, as though Nesta’s return was the most normal thing in the world.

It was different. So different from anything she had ever felt. Taryn spoke it with the same intensity every time, no hesitation, no doubt. As if Nesta were something to be cherished. Worshipped. Genuinely loved.

And Nesta couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t understand it, not when she had never been able to see herself that way. How could Taryn love her like that, with such certainty? How could anyone love someone like her? But Taryn never faltered, never pulled back. She said it, again and again, as if it were truth.

Cassian’s words lingered in Nesta’s mind like an echo she couldn’t escape. “I don’t know why your sisters love you.”

She didn’t have the answer. She didn’t know why Feyre and Elain had loved her, not truly. She never understood why anyone would. She wasn’t someone worth loving, not in her eyes. Not after everything she had done, the ways she had pushed them all away, the bitterness she had held onto for so long. But then there was Taryn, and Nesta couldn’t figure that one out either.

Taryn had said it before, had told her that she loved her. She had said it with such conviction that it felt like the air around them had shifted every time. Taryn said it in the morning, with a soft smile and sleepy eyes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She said it before bed, every night, as if she needed Nesta to hear it one more time before she could sleep. Taryn said it when Nesta was leaving, when she was walking out the door, as if there was no question that she’d be back, as if there was no reason not to. And Taryn said it when Nesta came back, with the same unshakable certainty, as though Nesta’s return was the most normal thing in the world.

It was different. So different from anything she had ever felt. Taryn spoke it with the same intensity every time, no hesitation, no doubt. As if Nesta were something to be cherished. Worshipped. Genuinely loved.

And Nesta couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t understand it, not when she had never been able to see herself that way. How could Taryn love her like that, with such certainty? How could anyone love someone like her? But Taryn never faltered, never pulled back. She said it, again and again, as if it were truth.

Even if she didn’t say it often, Taryn knew. And Taryn would wait for the day when she could hear it again.

Nesta walked along the Sidra, her steps slow and deliberate, the bag of books swinging gently in her hand. The scent of the river mixed with the crisp evening air, and for once, she didn’t feel rushed. It had been a long day, one filled with the familiar hum of the bookstore, the rustle of pages, and the occasional, welcome silence that came when customers found their way into their own worlds.

The books she carried were new — a mix of stories she’d been meaning to read, some old classics, and others she picked up simply because they felt like something she needed in that moment. She had grown fond of reading in the quiet hours after work, when the world around her slowed down enough for her to escape into someone else’s life, someone else’s pain, someone else’s triumphs. The weight of the bag felt like a quiet reminder of how far she’d come — from the days when books had been the last thing she wanted to hold, to now, when they were one of the few things she knew could help her make sense of her own scattered thoughts.

As she walked, Nesta thought about the day. She didn’t really talk to many people at work. She liked it that way, liked the solitude that came with shelving books or helping a customer find exactly what they were looking for. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was hers. It was stable, and it was enough.

She passed the small shops along the Sidra, the ones that glowed in the evening light, their windows framed by the glow of lanterns. She didn’t stop to browse, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts that swirled like the water by her side. She thought about the life she was building, how much it had changed in the past year.

Nesta hadn’t seen Feyre or Elain since Solstice. No letters had been sent either. For a moment, she’d considered writing to them, inviting them out again, maybe to a tavern or to spend time together. But the thought faded as quickly as it came, overshadowed by the memory of all the times she had reached out before, only to be met with rejection. The silence from them had been a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between them.

To be honest, Nesta was tired. Tired of being the one to try, of always putting herself out there and never receiving what she needed in return. It felt like the weight of their absence was too much to carry, and she was done bearing it alone. She didn’t need to fight for their attention anymore.

Nesta knew she hadn’t been the easiest to deal with. She had been cruel, she admitted that to herself. Her words were sharp, biting, meant to hurt. Every time she had lashed out, it was like she was trying to keep people at a distance, even those she cared about most. She didn’t know how to show vulnerability, how to ask for what she needed without fear of being let down. So, she shut people out, and in doing so, she pushed them away.

She owed Feyre an apology, and perhaps Elain too. She hadn’t given them a chance to show they could be anything more than what she had assumed. She had seen their love and concern as pity, or worse, as a reminder of her own failures, but maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe she had failed them by not seeing them for who they truly were, by not acknowledging their care as something pure and genuine.

Despite everything, Nesta knew she didn’t deserve the way she had been treated, not by her sisters, not by the so-called family she had. The veiled insults, the passive-aggressive comments—those had been there, hanging in the air like a cloud she couldn’t escape. When her sisters had tried to stop them, their attempts were often ignored, as if their voices didn’t matter. Yet, when she had lashed out, when she had finally reached her breaking point, it was always her fault. She was the one to blame.

But, as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t believe she deserved that treatment. Not anymore. Taryn had told her she didn’t deserve to be treated like she was less than, like she didn’t matter. And even though Nesta had wanted to argue against it, to believe the awful things she had told herself for so long—that she had been a wretch, a leech, that she deserved every cruel word thrown her way—something inside her questioned if that was truly the case. Did she deserve to be cast aside, to be treated as nothing more than a burden? Did she?

She didn’t have the answer, not yet.

But she was trying—really trying—to be better. That had to count for something.

Nesta turned into a small café, the kind tucked away on a quieter side street, its warm glow spilling out onto the cold pavement. She hadn’t intended to stop, but something about the cozy interior called to her. She stepped inside, adjusting the bag in her hand, and stopped short.

The sight before her was unexpected.

Feyre and Elain sat at a table near the window, a pot of tea between them, soft laughter filling the air. They looked… comfortable. Unfamiliar. Their faces were relaxed, easy, not like the strained encounters she’d had with them since Solstice. It was a strange feeling—seeing them like this, without the tension, without the constant underlying friction that had always existed between them and her.

But then they saw her.

Feyre’s eyes widened in shock, her hand pausing mid-air as she had been reaching for the teapot. The moment froze. Nesta felt a quick, unbidden surge of heat flush her cheeks, but she didn’t let herself turn away.

Feyre shot up from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor, her expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t place. Elain looked up too, her eyes flickering between Nesta and Feyre, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in energy.

The air thickened with silence, and Nesta stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this. But there they were, in front of her, waiting. Waiting for her to say something, do something. And for a brief, flickering moment, all she could do was stand still, uncertain, not sure of how to navigate the tangled mess of emotions that had been left unresolved between them.

Feyre’s voice broke through the silence, tentative but steady. “Nesta… I didn’t expect to see you here.” Her gaze was softer than Nesta had anticipated, though there was still a hint of uncertainty, the kind that only comes from unresolved hurt.

She stepped closer, her fingers nervously clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Are you—are you alright?”

Elain remained seated, but her gaze flickered over Nesta with the same mix of surprise and caution. Feyre’s question hung in the air, waiting for Nesta to answer, and as much as Nesta wanted to pull away, to escape the sudden confrontation, a part of her longed for something—something that resembled understanding, or maybe just the faintest trace of connection.

Nesta held up the bag of books she had been carrying, her voice firm but guarded. “I was just coming in to grab a coffee,” she said, as if the simple statement could somehow shield her from the tension building between them.

Feyre’s eyes softened, but there was a hesitation there, like she wasn’t sure how to approach Nesta. “Would you… like to join us?” she asked, her words tentative, almost as if she was bracing for rejection.

Elain’s eyes were equally cautious, glancing back and forth between Nesta and Feyre. It was clear they expected her to say no, to make some excuse and leave. But instead, Nesta surprised herself. She felt a quiet defiance rising within her, the quiet strength she had nurtured in her.

“Yes,” Nesta said, her voice steady but quieter than usual. “I’ll join you.”

The surprise flickered across Feyre’s face, but it quickly shifted into something softer, almost relieved. Elain gave her a small, encouraging smile, and for a moment, the weight of all the time apart seemed to lessen, if only for this small exchange.

Nesta set the bag down by an empty seat, her back still a little tense, but she stayed, sitting down with them. She wasn’t sure where this would lead, or how she could navigate what had happened between them, but for once, she allowed herself to take a step forward instead of retreating.

Feyre took a slow breath, her eyes flicking to Nesta as if weighing her words carefully. “How have you been?” she asked, her voice gentle. “I know… during Solstice, the tension between us all was high. And Morrigan… she didn’t mean what she said. But, well, I suppose we’ve all been wondering what you’re going to do about Cassian.” She paused, hesitating for just a moment before continuing. “He… well, he’s been asking around. We all know it’s not just about the bond anymore. It’s more than that.”

Elain’s gaze flickered briefly to Feyre, but she remained quiet, allowing the conversation to unfold.

Nesta could feel her jaw tighten, her thoughts swirling. She had expected this conversation, even if she didn’t know exactly how it would unfold. Cassian. Always Cassian. It had been a constant presence, even in her silence, and she had grown weary of it, of him.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Nesta replied, her voice steady but her eyes sharp, like she was holding something back. “It’s not just Cassian’s decision, or anyone’s. I’ve had to figure things out for myself, in my own time.”

Feyre nodded, understanding but also concerned. “I know. But we’re still your sisters, Nesta. And Cassian… he’s never stopped caring. He wants to fix things with you.”

Nesta’s gaze shifted from Feyre to Elain, her eyes narrowing slightly. She leaned forward, her voice steady but sharp. “And why don’t you have the same attitude about Lucien? You and Feyre are always telling me to fix things with Cassian, to put the past behind us. But I don’t see you two getting scolded about fixing things with Lucien. I mean, how many times have we seen the lingering stares between you and Azriel? But you don’t hear people demanding that you make amends with him, do you?”

Feyre’s face flushed with discomfort, and she shifted in her seat, clearly unprepared for Nesta’s accusation. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “That’s different,” she muttered, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s not the same, Nesta.”

Elain, who had been silent until now, looked down at her tea, her hands nervously clasping around the cup. She didn’t want to be dragged into the comparison, but Nesta’s words had hit a nerve.

Elain stumbled, unsure of how to explain herself. “Well… because Lucien… and we’re… trying to understand everything, and… we’re still figuring things out. You know? With him being bonded to me and all.”

Nesta didn’t blink. “And so you think that makes it okay? That it excuses the double standard? Or is it just because it’s easier to focus on me, to point out everything I’ve done wrong?”

The air around the table felt thick, as if the tension between them had somehow gotten heavier with every word spoken. Feyre seemed at a loss, glancing at Elain for some kind of backup, but Elain remained quiet, still not meeting Nesta’s eyes.

“You know, I’m tired of the constant expectation that I have to be the one to fix things, that I’m the problem,” Nesta continued, her voice quieter now, though still tinged with frustration. “You’re both allowed to make mistakes, but somehow when I do, it’s a reflection of everything wrong in this family.”

Feyre bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but her gaze softened with guilt. “That’s not what we meant, Nesta. It’s just… we want you to be happy. And we don’t want you to carry all of that weight alone anymore.”

Nesta sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as the weight of her words pressed on her. She shook her head, looking at both of them, and for a moment, she felt like a stranger to herself. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, almost too quietly for them to hear. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but they were true. She hadn’t expected to say them.

She looked directly at Feyre, her heart aching in a way that made her throat tighten. “I’ve been cruel to you,” Nesta said softly, the sincerity in her voice unmistakable. “I hated myself, and I took it out on you. You always tried to care for us, to take care of everything when Father wouldn’t. And I… I couldn’t stand it. I resented you for it.”

Feyre’s expression softened, her eyes filling with an understanding that made Nesta feel even more vulnerable. She wasn’t sure she deserved that understanding, but Feyre’s gaze didn’t waver, and it made Nesta feel both small and incredibly exposed at the same time.

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” Nesta continued, her voice rough. “How you just took on everything. And I… I didn’t want to depend on anyone, especially you. But I shouldn’t have been so cruel. I should’ve tried to understand.”

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from tension. It was something more fragile, like a crack in a wall that had been there for too long.

Nesta turned her gaze to Elain, her heart heavy as she watched her sister. She hadn’t expected this conversation to go the way it had, but now, with Feyre’s understanding, it felt right to do this. It felt right to face what she had been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” Nesta said, her voice quieter this time, almost unsure. “I never expected anything from you. I thought you would always stay the same, that you’d always be… the one who would just stay in the background, waiting for everything to pass. I never really saw you—saw who you are now. I was wrong.”

Elain’s expression softened, her eyes wide as she looked at Nesta. She had always been the more gentle, the more patient one, and Nesta had never truly acknowledged that. She had always taken her for granted, assuming Elain’s kindness was constant and unchanging.

“You’ve changed, Elain,” Nesta continued, her voice thick with emotion. “And I didn’t give you credit for it. I should’ve seen that you’ve been through your own struggles, your own growth, and I haven’t been there for you the way I should’ve been.”

For a moment, there was silence. Elain’s face softened, but there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Nesta hadn’t expected instant forgiveness—she didn’t deserve that. But the weight of her apology hung between them, genuine and real.

Nesta straightened, her shoulders stiffening as she looked at both her sisters. Her apology felt like it had been a long time coming, but there was something else—something she needed to make clear.

“That’s all I’m sorry for,” Nesta said, her voice firm. “But there are only two of you I owe anything to. Feyre’s family, your mate—” She shook her head, frustration bubbling in her chest. “I can’t for the life of me understand why I’m made to feel like I owe them something.”

Feyre opened her mouth to respond, but Nesta cut her off, her emotions running high.

“Why am I supposed to walk on eggshells because of their pasts? Their pain? I didn’t cause it. I didn’t do anything to them. Why should I be the one to tiptoe around them, to make them feel comfortable? What happened to them had nothing to do with me.”

Feyre’s gaze softened, but she still looked conflicted. She exhaled slowly before speaking, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s not that simple, Nesta. It’s just… how they live, how they’ve always lived. Their backgrounds, especially Morrigan’s—it’s not an excuse, but it’s the reality. They come from places where those wounds run deep, and sometimes… sometimes they want to protect each other, to make sure no one repeats the mistakes of the past.”

Nesta’s chest tightened at the mention of Morrigan, but her anger hadn’t dissipated. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to keep explaining herself, apologizing, for something that felt like it wasn’t her fault.

“Protect each other?” Nesta said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “By treating me like I’m the one who needs to change, the one who needs to make amends? I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for them to judge me for something I wasn’t even part of. And I’m tired of being made to feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to fix things that have nothing to do with me.”

Elain shifted in her seat, and Feyre sighed, looking at Nesta with a deep sadness in her eyes. “It’s not about fixing, Nesta. It’s about understanding each other, trying to heal as a family. They can’t just… ignore the things that have happened. We all carry those scars in one way or another.”

“But I’m not them,” Nesta shot back, the sharpness in her voice echoing. “I’m not their past. I’m not their family’s mistakes. And I’m tired of carrying their burdens too.”

Nesta sighed, the weight of everything she’d said settling in her chest. She didn’t come here to rehash old wounds, to argue, or to dig into the past. She came for something different. But she could feel it—this unspoken distance still hanging between them.

She stood, brushing a hand through her hair as she glanced at both Feyre and Elain. “I didn’t come here to talk about this,” she said softly, the exhaustion in her tone barely contained. Her gaze softened for a moment before she met their eyes again. “I really do need to go.” She forced a weak smile, a smile that barely felt like hers, more of a pale imitation.

“I wish you both a good day,” Nesta continued, her voice quieter, as if offering a peace she didn’t quite believe herself. She took a step back, her hand resting lightly on the chair, her eyes lingering on Feyre and Elain for just a moment longer before she spoke again. “I assume, by the lack of letters, that you won’t be coming to the tavern anytime soon.”

Feyre’s face softened, her brow furrowing as if she wanted to say something, but Nesta’s words had already pushed her back. “Elain… she’s still uncomfortable there,” Feyre said, a hint of regret in her voice. “But… maybe we could all have dinner together at the river house? Even Taryn could come along, if you’d like.”

Nesta’s smile faltered immediately. She looked down at the ground for a moment, feeling the weight of her thoughts pull her deeper into herself. “I appreciate the invitation,” she said, forcing the words out through a tight throat. “But… I think Feyre, Elain—you’re the only ones I would want to see there. And I understand they’re your friends, really, but they’re not… mine.”

She took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the shaking in her hands. “Perhaps we could have dinner another time,” Nesta said, her voice a little firmer now. “You two could come over. But… the invitation is really only extended to you.” She met Feyre and Elain’s eyes, her expression soft but resolute.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, her footsteps steady as she left the café behind.

As Nesta stepped outside the café, the cool breeze greeted her, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, she found herself smiling. It wasn’t a wide smile, but it was there—soft and genuine, a fleeting moment of peace she hadn’t known she was capable of. The tension in her chest had eased just a bit, the weight of everything she’d been carrying seeming a little lighter.

She hadn’t expected to feel this way. She hadn’t expected to feel anything but exhaustion and frustration when she walked in. But now, with the air around her and the quiet buzzing of the city, she couldn’t help but feel like she had taken another small step forward. Maybe she hadn’t fully figured out everything yet—maybe there were still things left unsaid—but she was moving.

And that was enough for now.

[docagonthoughts]

MY PROBLEMS WITH THE LEGEND OF ZELDA MOVIE

Okay, hi.

I have a LOT of reasons this movie should never in a million years happen, but my family is getting sick of hearing them, so I'm here to share them with you because I'm very frustrated with some school things right now and I need to channel my anger into something that matters.

First is that it's going to be live-action.

This was a terrible choice on their part because no matter who they cast as Link and Zelda, they aren't going to be good enough for the role. And no, I don't mean as in acting skill, I mean in terms of appearance. They're just not going to be able to capture it.

Second of all, casting.

Casting for this movie will be tricky for multiple reasons. Like I said previously, whoever they choose to cast won't be able to capture the physical essence of the characters. Not only that, but they can't cast a super famous guy (ESPECIALLY not Tom Holland) because Link is always supposed to be a little nobody twink who shows up with a 'i have no idea what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway' mentality, not some hotshot guy everyone knows.

Third, twink-y-ness.

As we all know, Link is twinkier than a Twinkie, and if they fail to capture that, what is even the point. We need to see Link in at least one slutty outfit with a stupid hairstyle or else that isn't Link, that's just Chad.

Fourth, the target audience.

The target audience is probably my main concern with this movie, if I'm honest. Based on recent media, I've seen many things get taken over by 10 year old humor, Jack Black (no hate on him, but I think ykwim), and bad graphics. That's where I get concerned.

A good majority of the people who love the Legend of Zelda like I do are older than the age of 10 and don't want this movie to be overly goofy or 'watered down'. Like I said before, the Legend of Zelda games are whimsical, but also very dark at times. That's what makes them perfect; there's a balance.

Fifth, Link himself.

If you didn't know, Link doesn't usually talk or have a super distinguishable personality because the creators designed him with the audience in mind. You're supposed to be able to imagine Link in any way, even as yourself.

Now, that's not to say he can't have a personality. I'm just saying that whatever personality they give him will not work.

Not only that, but I just know they're going to make him talk. I know it. Now, i know some people are probably like 'wEll, DrAgON, How aRe theY suPPOsEd to MaKe him INterEstIng If HE doEsN'T TAlK?', to which I pat them on the head and remind them of the incredibly successful movie 'The Quiet Place' where all of the characters were silent and used sign language. In this movie's case, ONLY LINK would be silent, making it even EASIER for them.

Sixth, is Hyrule.

Now, I don't have too many concerns about Hyrule itself since it's pretty easy to make a movie pretty in terms of the landscape, but if it looks anything remotely similar to the Minecraft movie trailer, I will not watch it.

Seventh is the Villain.

My main concern with whichever villain they choose (most likely Ganon, but I think it'd be interesting to use a different villain like Vaati or the Demise), only because I don't want them to act like Bowser did in the Mario movie. Don't get me wrong, I think that worked for Bowser. But for Ganon? No. And I swear to you, if the villain or ANYONE is played by Jack Black, I will have an actual meltdown. (Love you Jack Black, but please no)

Eighth is the music.

As we all know (or at least you should), the Legend of Zelda has some of the most beautiful music ever. The Song of Storms, Zelda's Lullaby, Ballad of the Wind Fish, these are all great songs. If they screw this up, I will hate it.

And finally, number Nine: the essence and vibe of the movie.

This is my other main concern. Can I explain to you why I love the Legend of Zelda so Much? No, I can't. All I can tell you is that the 'feel' of it is what I love. If they fail to capture the whimsy and the wholesomeness but also the underlayer of darkness that the games possess, this movie will bomb.

Let me give you a few examples of other medias that failed to capture their source material:

Star Wars (The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, The Rise of Skywalker). All three of those movies sucked imo because they didn't feel like a Star Wars movie, they felt like a Star Wars fanfiction. This isn't any of the cast's fault, either. They did good for what they were given. But the movie itself (expecially the character changes in Luke) lacked that feeling the other Star Wars movies hold.

Star Trek Discovery and Picard. Both of these shows are objectively the worst Star Trek series. And, it's for the same exact reasons as those Star Wars movies. THE PEOPLE MAKING THEM AREN'T FANS OF THE FRANCHISE!!! They don't understand them, they don't understand why people LIKE them. But if you look at their newest show, Strange New Worlds, it's doing spectacularly. Why? BECAUSE THE NEW WRITERS ARE FANS OF THE SHOW. THEY GET IT.

If you couldn't tell, I'm very passionate about this one.

In conclusion, you can tell that my hopes for this movie are incredibly, painfully low. Can you blame me, though? This is my favorite thing in the world, an I'd love to have a movie about it. But in recent times, movies and shows based off of already beloved things have not been doing well because they don't capture the feeling of them. The people put in charge of these movies most likely haven't played a single Legend of Zelda game in their lives, so they don't get it and they aren't going to be able to capture our souls like the games do.

Thank you for listening to my messy rant.

[expertfool]

i can’t really get over douglas adams rewriting adam and eve as ford and arthur. there are many things about it that blow my mind. that they are both men. that it was the 80s. that arthur is presented as eve. that it is all intentional. that trillian—who is the other last human being along with arthur—could’ve been there instead of ford, more accurately portraying the adam and eve story, and there is literally no good reason for her not being there as zaphod, ford, arthur, and trillian had all been in that time machine and yet douglas adams pairs ford and arthur off instead of the last two humans (and notably male and female). the only reason trillian is not there in place of ford is because douglas adams specifically did not want her to be. she continues to be a part of the plot in the book, although it is not critical to the plot (in the restaurant at the end of the universe) that she be there with zaphod instead of with arthur (though it’s better for her character), so the choice of who is paired with who is very purposefully based on relationship and not plot requirements.

i think this point is even furthered by mostly harmless—arthur and trillian do end up conceiving a child together, but arthur is not even there at the conception of his own child. he is completely without any romantic or sexual desire or intentions towards trillian. donating sperm is the most sexless way of conceiving a child, and douglas adams chooses to do this after intentionally pairing ford and arthur as adam and eve. when arthur finds out he has a child, he doesn’t think of himself as missing out on a relationship with trillian, instead asks “what about zaphod?” without jealousy or frustration. despite the sexless-ness and detachment of the act of donating sperm that was never even intended for child conception, arthur loves his daughter unconditionally and without reserve.

these points paired with the scene where arthur is given a prayer tailored to him in mostly harmless, “protect me from knowing what i don’t need to know. protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that i don’t know. protect me from knowing that i decided not to know about the things that i decided not to know about…it’s what you pray silently inside yourself anyway, so you may as well have it out in the open…there’s another prayer that goes with it…protect me from the consequences of the above prayer.” just really lend itself a lot to the idea that arthur was maybe possibly intended to be read as gay. or at least makes it very easy to read arthur as gay.

i’m also fascinated with the contrast of ford and arthur portrayed as adam and eve eating the apple which would give them the knowledge of good and evil and allow them to understand the consequences—obviously these characters are adults and already know these things, making this metaphor a euphemism for something else—against the prayer arthur receives for himself in mostly harmless. it is like a reversal of what eating the apple in eden achieves. eat the apple, receive awareness of something, three books later receive a prayer for the exact opposite. these things also existing at contrasting times in ford and arthur’s relationship—that ford and arthur had been isolated on a beautiful planet together during the apple in eden bit but had not seen each other in years and had a bad argument in mostly harmless during the time arthur received the prayer. i do think the prayer means something else for arthur in the plot (though actually, douglas adams almost always uses events in his books to have more than one meaning in the series so..), but these things being so intentionally written always makes me wonder if douglas adams meant something about arthur’s sexuality and his relationship with ford.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hot take: Cooper Howard was an avid drug user before the bombs. Boyfriend was a big Hollywood star; all that pressure and you’re telling me that he’d be clean? My guy was prolly seeing more snow than Alaska.

Another Anon with 100% correct opinions who deserves a kiss straight on the mouth. Mwah.

But also...do you guys have backdoor access to my drafts? Yet again, someone comes into the ask box discussing a topic I was already thinking heavily on for a long-form piece; definitely touching on a lot of this in the next installments of Duplicity. Mister Howard doesn't deal with stress in the healthiest of ways. I also have a follow-up to this question in the inbox and I'm so glad you sent separate asks, actually, because I have a ton to say about this topic.

Substance use was absolutely a cornerstone of Cooper Howard's life long before the bombs dropped.

His vices of choice are primarily alcohol and cocaine (and cigarettes, obviously, but that's a societal addiction in the world he comes from), the former especially. Cooper is the definition of a high-functioning alcoholic. While he did dabble a bit more in party drugs when he and Barb were younger, when he was first starting to become famous and make good money, he more or less gave them up when Janey came along.

The coke use started as a social thing, a curiosity and a fun enhancer that he, and even Barb, occasionally, would dabble in. While he'd never pressure her to use (well, not that much, at least...), the few times she did are pretty fond memories to him, even after they split. She's always been a pretty straight-laced, serious, and high-achieving person, and he loved seeing her open up any time she decided to let her hair down. Plus, the sex after they got home would always be extra wild.

Addiction runs in the family on Cooper's side, so he grew up around people who drank a lot, and began drinking rather young himself as a result. He's been a fan of the sauce for a long time, far before his marriage or even his time in the army. Once they'd made it to Los Angeles, social drinking became a pretty big part of the Howard's lives, both using alcohol and sharing drinks with important contacts as a way to network their way into better opportunities. Barb isn't nearly as much of a drinker at home, save for an occasional glass of wine with dinner or a celebratory cocktail to top off a big accomplishment.

Coop's relationship with alcohol changed after he returned from his deployment; for the first time in his life, he began to more frequently use booze to chase away feelings he didn't want to feel, thoughts he didn't want to have. However, he kept a pretty solid handle on his habit for a long time, at least in terms of keeping it a secret. Janey's birth made it easy to keep his consumption to a minimum for several years. However, as his career began to decline as he aged (and as Vault-Tec became a more and more prominent presence in his life), he turned back to the bottle. When his stress began to peak, he started using cocaine more and more to "take the edge off".

He gets quite defensive (even aggressive, depending on who you are and how hard you push) if you start asking him too many questions about his substance use. Doesn't appreciate the implication that he has a problem he can't control. Cooper is already painfully aware of the number of things in his life that he has no control over and refuses to add another to the list. His manager, a pretty good friend with good intentions, very casually mentioned him possibly checking into rehab exactly once and he absolutely blew his lid. The idea of the public knowing about his struggles, judging him, laughing at him is more than he can bear, and that fear only intensifies after he spends over a year being mocked for his divorce and career backslide.

Besides, if he went to rehab, Barb would know, and that idea humiliates him. As far as he knows, he's hidden his problem from her for a long time.

Barb sees the signs much more clearly than he thinks, though. He comes home from parties she didn't attend incredibly late, teeth-grittingly on-edge and horny, but can't get it up properly due to the blow. Has the lingering smell of whiskey on his breath when she kisses him in the morning and conveniently always has a coffee waiting for her so she doesn't ask for a sip of his. Towards the end of their marriage, she finds a couple of flasks in places so obscure that they can only be hidden stashes, implying he's drinking so often that he feels the need to have near-constant access to alcohol.

Cooper's been a poor sleeper since his time in the service. He came back changed in more ways than one, but that was the most noticeable. However, he acts different when he's awake from insomnia versus when he's awake because he's fucked up. A regular night of bad sleep includes him quietly curled up in a chair, studying a script or watching the television turned down low as he tries his best to will himself into some rest.

When he's high, though, he has too much energy to sit still, so sometimes she'll wake up to him finishing up some household task that absolutely could have waited, or even doing things they pay people to do. She finds it hard to believe that he, for example, did four loads of laundry overnight or gave his car a meticulous tune-up because he was just that bored, despite his insistence. Once, she found him out in the back yard in the middle of the night, shooting live ammunition at a target and murmuring to himself. Though she'd stayed up and lingered at the window for hours watching over him, for the first time ever in their marriage, she'd been afraid of him, too unsure of how he'd react to approach.

She hadn't known it at the time, of course, but they'd be divorced within two years of that night.

His addiction issues absolutely came up in court, though they weren't the focus of any of the discussions. Barb withholds some information. While she fails to truly grasp all of the reasons her marriage ended, and therefore goes into the divorce angry and wanting to get back at him for his perceived rejections, she doesn't want to completely drag his name through the mud. But she still mentions a few aspects of it, namely those she feels could impact Janey. Cooper takes this very personally, especially when their custody split is decided and he's dissatisfied with the outcome.

After the split, when he no longer sees his family every day and spends significantly more time alone, his use increases, as does his tolerance. All the while, his ability to hide his dependence slowly wears away. Unfortunately, he has no idea what's in store for him in the future.

If he did, though, it'd probably only drive him to use more.

[invasive]

Under a read more since this is kind of a story lol

Forcefully took up sewing since I urgently had to mend a DEAR treasure (2 of them) after an accident. It happened so soon after New Years I was thinking "what a terrible way to start this year!... uuuuuuu....uuuu...." and I tossed and turned all night. Cried. I furrowed my brow and thought about rolling over and just taking the loss. But impulsively I steeled myself and thought Hell No! I was experiencing despair and waded my way through it but I wouldn't let it become loss.

I resolved to go to the only fabric store I knew of to find replacement fabric and matching thread the next day. The train ride was nice. I felt so purposeful lol. A very rare occurrence in my life. I watched maybe 30 seconds of a video telling me how to sew and went WHATEVER! and went at it on some tests for 2 hours. Don't advise that but I was stressed haha. The tests weren't that good but they were good enough. I got the hang of things.

Took me about 2 nights to finish mending the first item. The fabric matched really well in color and texture so the fact my sewing was shoddy didn't show as much as I thought it would. I was satisfied. The next item.... took 4..... all nighters... it doesn't sound like much writing it down but I experienced so much frustration. Probably more frustration than I've felt in 3 years since I haven't picked up any new skills or hobbies in that time. I was just an observer before. It was so grueling.

But I surprised myself! The reason it was grueling was because I kept aiming for something better. I redid sections so many times and approached it from 4-5 different angles even if it undid hours on hours of work. The patching fabric for the second item didn't match as well (totally different material, texture, and thickness) and ended up being more decorative. I encountered new problems I didn't previously account for. I had to worm my way around a lot! And it was not fun. But my will was something that strangely surprised me. I would finish a section, look at it, and go "I won't settle for that" then restart. Id go up halfway, realize I was doing something wrong, then restart. I'd realize there was a better way of doing something, restart. I think there were 3 times last night I decided I was done but realized I wanted to redo something and I worked for an additional hour every attempt.

Again It wasn't fun in the moment! But something in the back of my head was so very happy. I knew I would come out of this being proud of what I did. That Will I experienced was honestly something I thought had atrophied outside of art! And with digital art, problems are easy to solve. Undo, copy, paste, save states, etc. I'm not holding a needle with long nails and thread that I can barely see to solve I problem I don't know anything about.

Even if the actual display of skill is fledgling, the mental hurdles I overcame made the end product feel more rewarding. I did everything I could with my level of skill and prep. While doing something middling is better than not doing it at all, I got too used to that and just started aiming for mediocrity. So overcoming that has been so very rewarding. I can't say that enough.

I wondered if this was because I've been watching jojo... nearly all the characters carry themselves with so much purpose and determination, regardless of their role in the story. I can't lie, on the train ride there I was thinking about how certain characters would persevere in situations that devastate them..! I was like.. I should too...!!

It's so funny how an objectively small project became so important to me. I've built a little more respect for myself this year! I think that's a good way to start it off.

I feel really good about myself lately

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

me at yet another family gathering trying to tune out the underhand comments about my personal life, casual homophobia, less casual sexism, ableism, troubling political attitudes, and so many layers of generational trauma it might as well be a fucking trifle

[fitzselfships]

Okay well yhe other ask was another anon being weird about a post I rbed like. About 2 weeks ago fhat was Literally just stating a boundary and acting like I'm close friends with the op (who I have Never interacted with outside of seeing them in the tags and occasionally rbing their posts??? I don't even follow them lmao) so ummmm I'm not even going to acknowledge these asks anymore. Next anon to send anything like that I'm just going to delete it

And btw if you're still stalking my blog fuck off. Get white smurf jumpscared <3

[famewolf]

if im being honest and allowing myself to vent a bit about it ... another red flag was when the DM went 'wow i love the detail of your backstory but idk what i can do with it tho ):'

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[luckyladylily]

So a few months ago there was the discourse about would you rather meet a man or a bear in the woods. I didn't want to touch it while the discourse was hot and everyone dug in hard because those are not good conditions for nuance, but I waited until today, June 1st, for a specific reason.

I'm not going to take a position in the bear vs man debate because I don't think it matters. What is really being asked here is how afraid are you of men? Specifically, unexpected men who are, perhaps, strange.

People have a lot of very real fear of men that comes from a lot of very real places. Back when I was first transitioning in 2015 and 2016, I decided to start presenting as a woman in public even though I did not pass in the slightest.

I live in a red state. I knew other trans women who had been attacked by men, raped by men. I knew I was taking a risk by putting myself out there. I was the only visibly trans person in the area of campus I frequented, and people made sure I never forgot that. Most were harmless enough and the worst I got from them was curious stares. Others were more aggressive, even the occasional threat. I had to avoid public bathrooms, of course, and always be aware of my surroundings.

I know how frightening it is to be alone at night while a pair of men are following behind you and not knowing if they are just going in the same direction or if they want to start something - made all the worse for the constant low level threat I had been living under for over a year by just being visibly trans in a place where many are openly hostile to queer people. You have to remember, this was at the height of the first wave of bathroom law discussions, a lot of people were very angry about trans women in particular. My daily life was terrifying at times. I was never the subject of direct violence, but I knew trans women who had been.

I want you to keep all that in mind.

So man or bear is really the question "how afraid of men are you?", and the question that logically follows is "What if there was a strange man at night in a deserted parking lot?" or "What if you were alone in an elevator with a man?" or "What if you met a strange man in the woman's bathroom?"

My state recently passed an anti trans bathroom bill. The rhetoric they used was about protecting women and children from "strange men", aka trans women.

Conservatives hijack fear for their bigoted agenda.

When I first started presenting as a woman the campus apartment complex was designed for young families. The buildings were in a large square with playgrounds in the center, and there were often children playing. I quickly noticed that when I took my daughter out to play, often several children would immediately stop what they were doing and run back inside. It didn't take me long to confirm that the parents were so afraid of "the strange man who wears skirts" that their children were under strict instructions to literally run away as soon as they saw me.

"How afraid are you of a strange man being near your children?"

I mentioned above that I had to avoid public bathrooms. This was not because of men. It was because of women who were so afraid of random men that they might get violent or call someone like the police to be violent for them if I ever accidentally presented myself in a way that could be interpreted as threatening, when my mere presence could be seen as a threat. If I was in the library studying and I realized that it was just me and one other woman I would get up and leave because she might decide that stranger danger was happening.

Your fear is real. Your fear might even come from lived experiences. None of that prevents the fact that your fear can be violent. Women's fear of men is one of the driving forces of transmisogyny because it is so easy to hijack. And it isn't just trans women. Other trans people experience this, and other queer people too. Racial minorities, homeless people, neurodivergent people, disabled people.

When you uncritically engage with questions like man or bear, when you uncritically validate a culture of reactive fear, you are paving the way for conservatives and bigots to push their agenda. And that is why I waited until pride month. You cannot engage and contribute to the culture of reactive fear without contributing to queerphobia of all varieties. The sensationalist culture of reactive fear is a serious queer issue, and everyone just forgot that for a week as they argued over man or bear. I'm not saying that "man" is the right answer. I am saying that uncritically engaging with such obvious click bait trading on reactive fear is a problem. Everyone fucked up.

It is not a moral failing to experience fear, but it is a moral responsibility to keep a handle on that fear and know how it might harm others.

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me

[ame-to-ame]

Rereading ayaka is in love with Hiroko senpai!!! Last time I read it I don't think it was finished/I didn't finish it but ack. Now I also want to be in love 😭😭😭

[therainbowwillow]

hbomberguy’s latest video on plagiarism has made me completely rethink literature and writing. I have never once so much as considered intentionally plagiarizing anyone or anything, but I think there’s something more that has come out of this: the names of the people who created the works Somerton (and others) ripped off.

Plagiarism isn’t only bad because it is lazy and disrespectful, it’s bad because it buries the truth. If you can’t find a source, the conversation is over. Somerton’s sources are fairly easy to find by simply searching his plagiarized lines, but that isn’t true in most cases. Most of the time, the line from statement to source is a lot less clear.

Today, I was writing a report on English Ivy, which is an invasive species here in the US. I wanted to know when it was introduced and I at last found a source claiming it was introduced to the Americas “as early as 1727” on a .net website that seems quite reputable (it has multiple major universities credited in its home page), but there is no citation for where this date came from. I dug deeper and found a pamphlet created by a city government in Virginia that made the same claim, only to discover the first source linked in their bibliography. Another website (a botanical garden’s page) gave the same date with the same source hyperlinked. Of course, I have classes to attend and things to do and probably not enough time to follow the lines back to where this 1727 date came from, but if I had not just watched this video, I wouldn’t have given that date a second thought.

Of course, it doesn’t matter in the long run exactly what year hedera helix was introduced to the Americas, but it makes you wonder how many facts have been so vaguely attributed that it becomes completely impossible to figure out where they originated (and further, whether or not they’re true at all).

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.