#i usually call it when i get to 10 pages in my word doc

[bbygirl-aemond]

do you have any advice for planning out the story and each chapter? im trying to plan out this fic idea i have but i don’t really know how so i thought i’d ask one of the best ao3 authors i’ve seen

oh bby i'm about to go into SO much detail that i'm sure you didn't ask for but here we go! i've spent countless hours of my life on fic planning, and it usually goes entirely unseen by y'all! i'll try to use parts of my earlier planning for stormbreak as an example so as to avoid spoilers while giving you the ability to see how the plans translate into the finished product. this will also give anyone who's interested a cool behind-the-scenes look at how some of stormbreak's chapters evolved from my earliest notes!

i organize all of my planning in google drive, and i have several distinct stages i go through that increase in detail the further along you go.

at the broadest level, i have two documents that i use for brainstorming. one of them, called "snippets," is miscellaneous little half-thoughts and snippets or late-night ideas. it includes both scenes and characterizations. it's basically little notes and reminders to myself. these snippets can usually be worked into the fic at mostly any point. this document is pretty long; about 50 pages. here are some examples of the types of things i put in this doc, including something that inspired a scene later in chapter 11:

the second brainstorming document is called "scenes." this is basically a list of every single interaction and moment that i want to happen. each line of text will represent one of the povs that will end up in stormbreak, with usually 2-3 povs per chapter. each sentence is super brief, like max 10 words, and i'll usually spit them out without regard to chronology since some scenes can be worked in anywhere.

now beginning to put things together i have the document i call "chronological events." here, the scenes are all put in a specific chronological order. i'll assign chronology to certain scenes that have chronological flexibility. and each scene will be expanded into 3-4 bullet points that get at how this scene will advance the plot (through politics, characters, or relationships). here's an example of what this looked like for the scene that became alicent's pov in chapter 12:

and for the scene that became aemond and daeron's povs later in the same chapter:

the "chronological events" document is what i reference first any time i'm going through the planning process for a new chapter. it reminds me of what i need to accomplish with the chapter.

so now let's say i've looked at this document and want to proceed to the initial outline for the chapter. i write these in documents within a folder called "short chapter outlines," and each document is titled "short chapter X outline," with X just corresponding to the number in the actual fic. this will expand the bullet points from "chronological events" into an a few actual paragraphs, and add in some extra padding that isn't strictly plot-relevant but helps to build out the scenes. this is an example of what this looked like for the scene that became aemond's pov in chapter 2:

you can also see that this doesn't always end up being fully translated into the end product. in this example, i changed the events towards the end when writing the actual chapter because it made more sense to me.

okay now we go onto the last stage of planning before i write the actual chapter: the long outline. just like with the short versions, i keep these documents in a "long chapter outlines" folder and each doc is titled "long chapter X outline." it further expands upon the short outline; i'll put the short outline on the left half of the screen to look at it while i write the long outline on the right half of the screen. this is basically me stream-of-consciousness writing the chapter. the goal is to get the entire scene hammered out, pretty much paragraph by paragraph. if there are any particular descriptions, lines of dialogue, or even brief moments that i get stuck on, i write them in shorthand and don't worry about making them pretty. here's an example of this, from the scene that became aemond's pov at the start of chapter 6:

you can see that i expanded on most of these paragraphs and polished the sentences between this and the final chapter. but also that the level of detail here is really high.

lastly, we have the actual chapter, which i write based off of this long outline. i put the long outline on the left side and the chapter itself on the right side of my screen so i can see both at once. i write all of my chapters in microsoft word because that's the format i've written stories in since i was a child and it's where my creativity works best for whatever weird reason. the chapter always stays very true to the long outline, but as you'll see if you compare the long outline above to the actual chapter 6 i do add in a bunch of extra detail. the long outline is usually between 4,000 and 5,000 words and 10-15 pages, while my chapters are pretty much upwards of 9,000 words and 20+ pages. so it about doubles in length at this step.

i do most of my editing (switching certain lines and paragraphs around) as i write this first full draft of the chapter. so when i'm proofreading, i'm only ever checking for errors and seeing if i want to replace any words or phrases with a better idea. this last step usually doesn't take me more than a hour.

from there on, you guys are familiar with the end result! as a note, the "chronological events" and "short chapter outlines" are all fully completed for this story! i prefer to finish this level of planning before even beginning to seriously write. it helps me to lay the foundation for my plot twists from the very beginning of the fic!

[skythealmighty]

I'm just gonna answer these outright, cause I'm bored. (The questions are in italic so nobody has to scroll back up)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? I tend to write in either Arial if I'm lazy, Caladea because it's a really pretty font (especially in italics), Cinzel Decorative (it's the closest to Papyrus on Docs), or Comic Sans. Comic Sans is the font of my inner thoughts.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil? Maybe eventually, but not all at once- my hands would hurt too much. I don't write everything by hand, but when I do, pencil.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed? I tend to listen to playthroughs of games while I write, I guess. I get distracted easily, so it's easy to have something to turn to and then immediately back from. I don't think it's that cursed though, I just have ADHD. On the other hand, I cannot go on call when writing. I don't get anything done.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Orbs. I hate it. I hate it soooo much. If a fanfic says "orbs" I am instantly turned off unless it's in context of a wizard pondering an orb… but it's usually not.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true? Yep! Try to get in the mindset of your character when you write them, even if it's from the opposite perspective. Also, if you can't think of any banter… try and imagine it's you and your friends, it helps a lot.

6. What is your darkest fear about writing? That I get ridiculed for it.

7. What is your deepest joy about writing? When people find joy in what I write!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? Dialogue. I have written chatfic, you know!

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know Theoretically, yes- scientifically, no. It's a great story point, though!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? Yes. It's often a fic I've started but not done anything with yet, or a fic I started, posted, then abandoned. Usually just means I'm guilty about not writing more.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve? No. I do not kill my favorites, I only traumatize them.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules Number one would be that I could focus more while writing, number two would be that I could keep motivation for periods at a time, and the last wish would be that I was better at writing worldbuilding.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? I haaate action. I'm terrible at it... least for now. I'm best at description and banter.

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back? Not really, but if they asked, I would. No not really either. Um.. usually I'm the ones who steal them from schools accidentally.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends? No, not really- I used to, though. Occasionally. NO. I don't like getting my books wet, but if there were waterproof ones I would totally. No, I don't judge people who do this. Yes, of course we can be friends!

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark? Uh... a pipe cleaner? Mostly just paper scraps, though.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text. It was inspired by me thinking of one of my favorite lyrics from Jubilee Line while in a Great Wolf Lodge waterpark? I really can't say anymore than that other than I'm planning out the top 20 heroes, their names, mild backstory and powers. It's exhausting.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. "He rubbed his hand along the ribbon attached to him with a weak magnet (not nearly strong enough to affect him at all). He'd tried to throw it away, to tear it apart and leave it in the garbage, but he ended up not being able to do it. He knew why he couldn't bring himself to, but he denied it. He couldn't admit that he'd gotten attached, that he'd gone soft, that he was vulnerable." This is from a snippet I wrote about Evil Computer getting attached to a character and denying it but in an angsty way because the character dies. Can't say much more because spoilers, eventually. :)

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going? I started in middle school, thanks to a really nice teacher of mine. Previously, I had absolutely despised writing- but she showed me how to enjoy it. Now, I write for fun almost constantly, and I'm working on a really ambitious project! I'm so glad I had her as a teacher.

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch The WIP. I'm like, 90% sure I'm ace, and I have best friends, anyway.

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not? No, no, and because it brings joy to me.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud? Usually, not very. I just write in Docs a lot. For one story that was kind of multiple-choice, I drew out a map on a giant piece of paper!

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture. Usually I do it downstairs in the corner of the TV room with headphones on. I sit on the ottoman with my computer on a TV tray in front of me, with shelves mostly filled with carnival glass next to me and beside the TV. There's a couch parallel to the TV that my brother usually sits on, and a table in front of it that's usually very full of things, and under the table are seats that you can open and use as storage. The table is gray, the couch is brown- the color of warm coffee, and the seats are a tealish blue.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it? Usually not at all, I just start writing and go ham. Lately though I have been worldbuilding a lot, and it's great fun!

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? Bryce Hansen is thalassophobic!

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place? I just get in the mindset? I really don't know how to explain it. To get out, I tend to listen to music, and I never regret going in there- even if I do end up crying a bit.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why? Canon Tommy Innit. This child has issues.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why? PAPYRUS! HE'S SO SWEET.

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry? I have ~no idea~ for both of them! :D

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up? I don't remember my dreams a lot. No, no, and no.

31. Write a short love letter to your readers. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY SHIT EVEN THOUGH I ALMOST NEVER FINISH ANYTHING. I OWE YOU GUYS THE WORLD.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you? “Tweet tweet, motherfucker.” from Recognized by AgentIanLegend. It's hilarious. I found it going through Danny Phantom crossovers, and what it means to me... well, you can be hilarious while still being inspirational.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate? Yeah, I draw and sing! It's mostly seperate, I think.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go: What the hell is an Oxford comma? ...oh, I alternate between using it and not using it.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens? That paragraphs have to be three sentences!

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know? Good friends respect boundaries and let you have time to yourself!

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you? Eccentric, funny, but ultimately kind, I think. Definitely unafraid to swear.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? I get my best ideas when I'm near water- whether it's a waterpark, the toilet, the shower, or whatever else. Unfortunately, I'm usually not near my computer or phone at that time. Oops.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up? My friends!

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it. Alright, hold on... this one's a long one, I warn you! And it's creepy :]

(Warnings for the poem below: Gemini Home Entertainment spoilers, body horror mention, general creepy stuff)

Shining, gorgeous, orange eye,

High up, growing, in the sky

Jack and Mary gone again

Leapt over the riverbed

Someone, somewhere, made a deal

Now our bodies it will steal

Deep Root Disease grows to the bone,

Turning flesh into a home

Follow the lights in the woods,

Scream until the police would

Feed the forest in the night,

Don’t cry, child, you’re alright

The Iris reigns above us all

The computers will hear its call

We sent a probe up into space

Now it’s coming for our race...

Twinkle, twinkle, orange eye,

How I wonder why you lied.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[teamconductors]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, Chapter 5

Summary: Ingo and Emmet conceited to visiting a tailor to fix their suits. When the tailor offers to buff their uniforms for a special cost, will they be able to pay her price? Or will an unusual dungeon be the end of our hero's plans?

Author’s Note: This is the chapter that uses that one idea from the one anon! I always had the idea that Ingo’s and Emmet’s hats were stat-boosting items, but it makes more sense for someone to have made the hats that way, y’know?

As always, thank you @furiouskettle for inspiring this AU with your designs of the submas as Sneasels!

(Shippers DNI)

“Emmet, this doesn’t pass inspection, and I don’t think we are qualified to make these repairs,” Ingo said, looking over the singed edges of Emmet’s coat. The morning after Chandelure joined the rescue team, Ingo and Emmet both discovered that Emmet’s coat burned slightly from their new partner’s tears. Chandelure floated in a corner of the tent above the twins, obviously upset. “Chandelure, please don’t be hard on yourself.”

“We fixed our own clothes before,” Emmet said. “A burn would not be different.”

“While I would normally agree, I think we need to leave this part of maintenance to the experts. Just for today, let’s find a tailor.” Emmet and Chandelure followed Ingo, who left their tent and made for the Pearl Guild’s main building.

The sun finished rising over the horizon. Palina the (Kantoian) Arcanine stood at the job bulletin board, pinning up requests for any of the teams in the guild to accept and complete. Next to her, though, was Lian, hammering nails into a second bulletin board next to the first one.

“Good morning, Palina and Lian!” Ingo said as he and Emmet approached the board. “I see you have already begun morning preparations.”

“Oh, you’re early today!” Palina said, not looking away from her stack of letters from the Pelliper’s postal service.

“That is a large number of letters,” Emmet said. “Do we really need another board for them?”

“Yeah…” Lian said, pausing his work. “We’ve been getting a lot of rescue jobs lately, like more than normal. It’s a lil worrying, but I think we can handle it, right? Are you here for early job pickin’?”

“My coat is burned. I need a tailor,” Emmet said, showing the two his folded coat. “Do you know a good one?”

“Hm… Let me think…” Lian continued hammering the new board, which graded on Ingo’s and Emmet’s ears. When he finished, a realization came over him, and Lian’s face showed it. “Oh right! Palina, do you remember that one tailor south of Eterna Town? What’s her name?”

“South, south… Oh, yeah!” Palina finished covering the first board in requests and began pinning the rest to the second one. “Her name is Anthe. She made accessories for Irida and some of the other guild members. I think she can help you.”

“You heard her, Emmet!” Ingo said. “We have our destination!”

***

Out of the way from the Pearl Guild and the nearby Eterna Town was an above-ground path made from concrete and metal. The path led to the southern half of the land and was devoid of pokemon. Trees and vines took over the bridge, weaving itself into the concrete and overtaking the columns. Underneath the path was more signs of humanity’s footprint, including wood houses that only inhabited mildew and small pokemon.

Among the buildings clinging onto structure was one that appeared functional. Neither paint nor woodstains decorated the walls, and fur-like tarps haphazardly covered holes in the roof. Next to its entrance was a small bell. A wooden sign displayed a single word burned onto it: “Tailor”.

Ingo and Emmet approached the entrance. Emmet held his folded coat in his arms, while Ingo still wore his. Chandelure was behind them, just happy to be there. Ingo rang the bell.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice said from inside. As such, they opened the door.

The first thing the twins noticed was the scent of freshly cleaned clothes. In front of them stood a desk with a countertop that crossed the entire room and notched with ruler marks. Measuring tape, circular scissors, chalk, and a sitrus berry-shaped cushion with numerous pins sticking out were among the items sitting on the desk. On the walls to the conductors’ left and right hanged several accessories, ranging from bow and ribbons to capes, hats, and even suits. Several pre-made fabrics in a rainbow of colors lined the walls behind the desk. And at the desk itself was a Furfrou. At a distance, she looked like she was wearing a white top hat, but it was really fur trimmed that way.

“Welcome to my tailor’s shop, little ones,” the Furfrou said. “I am Anthe. What can I do for you?”

“I am Emmet. This is my coat. Please don’t drop it.” Emmet laid the coat onto the counter.

“How dare you assume I would! But… let me see the damages.” Anthe brought her front paws onto the counter and carefully unfolded the coat. She stared at the coat for a moment – not just at the burn marks but all over the white uniform. “What is this?”

“It’s my uniform,” Emmet said like she asked a silly question.

“This is… This is a human’s coat! How did you get this in such good condition – well, “good” might be an exaggeration, but still, how?”

“I told you, it’s my uniform. It was made for me.���

Anthe sighed, visibly annoyed. “Okay, if you’re not gonna answer me, then never mind. If you’re willing to pay me… I will match the material of the coat with what I have as best I can and then make it look brand new.” Anthe stroked her hand across the coat and looked up at the Sneasels and their ghost friend. Then her eyes darted to Ingo’s coat. “Oh my goodness! Little poisonous Sneasel, let me fix your coat!”

“Excuse me?” Ingo asked. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“”What’s wrong with it?!”” Anthe hopped over the counter (being careful not to touch Emmet’s coat) to approach Ingo face-to-face. “What isn’t wrong with it?! The collar is in tatters, barely hanging onto its shape. The ends have seen better days, and the cuffs are completely gone. And comparing this one to the other “uniform”, the browns have lost their vibrancy! Please let me fix it!”

“My coat does not need repairs, so I respectfully decline,” Ingo said.

“It absolutely needs repairs, sir. I will give you a discount, just please let me mend it!”

“NO!” Ingo never had an indoor voice, but his shout made Anthe’s ears ring. Emmet widened his eyes at Ingo. Chandelure watched over his trainer with a worried expression.

As for Anthe, she was stunned and left her mouth hang open for a couple of seconds before recollecting herself. “…Okay… fine… If you don’t want your coat’s rips and tears mended, then I won’t. But I can offer both of you a service. I can tell you’re a rescue team and apparently deal with fire-type pokemon often. Without changing your coats’ appearances, I can make them fireproof. I will ask for a fair bit of compensation, but you won’t have to worry about burn marks again.”

“Would that change the coat’s weight or feel?” Ingo asked.

Anthe’s nerves calmed from hearing Ingo’s (still loud) normal voice. “If I do my job right – and I will – your coats will feel the same as they did before.”

“Very well…” Ingo took off his coat, though each motion was slowed like he was forcing himself to do it. He folded up his coat and placed it on the countertop next to Emmet’s.

“Before I start, your payment is going to be 5000 poke dollars. Will you be able to pay that?”

“Yes. We are more than prepared for whatever price you would list.”

“Fantastic. Then I will begin.” Anthe took the coats and entered into a room behind the office Team Conductors stood at.

Ingo stood still, only moving to pet Chandelure on the head.

“Your reaction was strong,” Emmet said. “Wouldn’t it be better to do proper repairs of our uniforms?”

“It was rather improper of me,” Ingo said. “It… scares me, how much I do things without knowing why. Objectively, my uniform must be kept at an acceptable condition, so why do I feel a tug in my heart each time I think of fixing it completely?”

“I don’t know. You talk about these things, and I still don’t get it. But I am Emmet. I am your brother. I will be with you until you find out why and beyond.”

“I expect nothing less,” Ingo said, almost smiling.

“Done,” Anthe said as she left her private work room. The coats hanged on metal wires that Anthe carried by her mouth. With a swift motion, she swung both coats onto her counter, revealing Emmet’s coat was patched up to normal condition and Ingo’s still had the same rips, fraying, and wear. They both took their coats and put them on at the same time, much to Anthe’s surprise. “They’re not gonna block fire-type moves, but they’ll survive everything up to getting dipped into lava. …Don’t actually dip them in lava, please.”

“I will take your word for it,” Ingo said. “Emmet, what do you-“

Ingo watched as Emmet brought a sleeve – and his arm with it - into Chandelure’s flames to test Anthe’s claim. Emmet failed to realize his mistake until it was too late. Chandelure stopped letting their flames hurt Emmet, but the super-effective damage was done. Ingo presented his brother an oran berry to munch on. “I am impressed,” Emmet said between bites. “No damage was done to my coat. Well done.”

Anthe found her mouth hanging open once again. “Well… before you go… I offer one more service to improve the quality of and customize exploration equipment. Do you have any items like scarves or ribbons that you would like more use of?”

“Oh, neither of us use those,” Ingo said. “The uniforms we use now are more than enough for our jobs.”

“But they’re normal clothes. You… You’re…” Anthe looked at the badges that the two weird Sneasels attached to their coats. “You’re an S-rank rescue team and you haven’t been using protection equipment during your dangerous trips and battles??”

“Yes,” Ingo and Emmet both said at the same time.

“…Well… with the right price, I could turn your “uniforms” into something that could actually help you. It would have to be the hats since I just altered your coats. Here is my list of offers.” She reached under the counter and presented them a wooden plaque with words painted on. The list was: attack, defense, special attack, special defense, critical hit ratio, health, persim, pecha, rawst, chesto, leppa, stamina, and all-rounder. The last one had an additional description: “combines effects of the attack, defense, special attack, and special defense options”.

Ingo and Emmet both pointed at ‘all-rounder’.

“Oh, you two want this one? Fine, but you’ll need to bring me some items first.” Anthe reached under her desk and pulled out a paper.

All-rounder customization. In addition to 10k poke dollars per article, bring me one of the following: defense scarf, power band, special band, and zinc band.

“Wow! These are verrrry expensive materials!” Emmet said. His signature smile remained on his face, but his eyes let Anthe know he thought the price as ridiculous.

“It’s the best customization option I have, and not only will it make you stronger, but only you two will get to benefit from its strength. What do you say?”

Ingo looked at Emmet and saw his brother almost shaking with excitement at the possibility of improving his battle experience. “Allow us to return with the appropriate supplies, then we can complete this trip.”

***

For three days, Team Conductors travelled through three dungeons – Cottonridge Prairie, Hooftrack Heights, and Grueling Grove – looking for the scarves while completing missions. Seven pokemon were rescued, three bounties collected, and two lost items retrieved to their clients. Ingo and Emmet had more than enough money to pay for the upgrade, but they only found 3 power bands and 1 zinc band.

On the fourth day, when all of the Pearl Guild teams gathered in the assembly hall for morning announcements, a gloominess hanged around Chatot and Irida.

“…And now, the Guildmaster has a major announcement,” Chatot said to the room of eight rescue teams and several Guild housekeepers. “Pay attention!” He stepped aside and let Irida take center stage.

“I know everyone is probably eager to get right to getting missions, but unfortunately, I must instruct everyone to hold off on entering ANY mystery dungeons until further notice.”

“WHAT?!” said several of the guild members. Whispering between pokemon broke out.

“I know, I know.” The crowd settled down to listen to Irida. “But I have a good reason. As you may have noticed, we’ve been having a large increase in rescue jobs with lost pokemon. Well, there’s been a trend with the newer requests: all of them describe entering a floor in a mystery dungeon unlike any of the others. They’re dark, near impossible to navigate, and worst of all, no stairs nor doorways can be found. Neither escape orbs nor Teleport or guild badges allow them to escape.

“…And the reason we know our badges don’t work is because… one of our very own, Team Stardust, entered a dungeon and haven’t returned.” Irida paused to allow Chatot to get them to calm down. “We received word from leader Lucian that, while they are not in immediate danger, they are completely unable to progress through the dungeon. Today, Chatot and I will be leaving to converge with the Diamond Guildmaster and all 10 Nobles about what our next step is. For today, I ask everyone to either stay around here or Eterna Town to help with housekeeping. You are dismissed!”

Most of the pokemon in the hall scattered around the Guild. Ingo, Emmet, and Chandelure still stood in the center of the room.

“…We have to help them,” Ingo said. “Irida didn’t say their location, so we will have to find out before we can leave this station.”

“You think we can rescue them without guaranteeing that this is a round trip and not one-way?” Emmet asked.

Ingo grabbed onto the brim of his hat to think. “…It would be better than just shutting down operations for today. If nothing else, we can deliver food and medicines.”

“Okay. Maybe we can challenge Team Stardust to a battle. Battling a hyper-ranked team would be fun!”

“Very well, but now we need to face the issue of finding their location.”

Ingo and Emmet silently brainstormed for a moment, even taking up identical poses. Chandelure spun around, waiting for a response. Then the two Sneasels opened their eyes and ran off to one of the hallways, Chandelure following right behind.

At the job bulletin board, Palina was taking down job requests. She paused upon hearing two sets of footsteps running toward her.

“Good morning, Miss Palina!” Ingo said with a salute. “By any chance, do you know where Team Stardust is currently at?”

“Perhaps…” Palina narrowed her eyes at the Sneasels. “Why do you ask? You don’t plan on going after them, do you? You heard Irida’s order.”

“We are going to visit Team Stardust!” Emmet said. “I’m going to challenge them for a battle.”

Palina was understandably astonished by Emmet’s bluntness. “Are you sure you wanna do that now??”

“Yes.”

“We’re actually going to check in on them and ensure their safety,” Ingo said. “We will deliver to them food and berries. I realize Guildmaster Irida asked us to not enter mystery dungeons, but I cannot rest while others are out there in need of help.” Chandelure nodded with him.

“Well, I understand not being able to sit still, but you heard the guildmaster…” Palina finished taking down all the jobs and gazed at her sad little pile of calls for help. “…I mean, I was the one who saw Lucian’s letter first and showed it to Irida… I still have it on me… It would be a shame if you guys found that letter after I finished taking down the jobs from today… It would tell you where to go…” Palina turned and left, but a single piece of paper dropped from her stack and floated to Ingo’s foot.

Ingo held up the paper so that all three of them could read. After a moment, Ingo and Emmet nodded to each other and agreed on their next destination.

After finishing and rechecking their morning checks, Team Conductors made their way to one of the coldest areas of the land when they saw a familiar face about to pass them.

“Good day, Lady Sneasler!” Ingo pointed at Sneasler and at the ground. Emmet saluted her, and Chandelure waved with one arm.

“Yo, weirdos.” Sneasler waved at them as she approached. “Looks like you’re on a mission. What’s your plan for today?”

“Our destination is in the Bonechill Wastes! We are going to help a rescue team. What is yours?”

“I’m going to the Guild. Irida called me for some meeting or something, and I wanna get there before Chatot gets the urge to write another letter.”

“Oh, yes. Please have safe travels, Lady Sneasler!”

“Alright, alright. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Very well!”

***

Ingo and Emmet found themselves breezing through a dungeon where missions often ranked at 4-stars minimum. The icy landscape of Bonechill Wastes hardly bothered the Ice-type Emmet, and Chandelure provided light and additional warmth to Ingo’s coat. All of the pokemon they faced fell in one strike from either Ingo’s new Drain Punch or Chandelure’s Mystical Fire.

Packed snow lined the walls, floors, and ceilings. Not even a heavy pokemon like Mamoswine was able to form footprints in the ground. The snow held up to Chandelure’s flames and never melted. The pure white landscape almost blinded the twins in the first few floors, but the light dimmed as they travelled lower and lower. The snow sparkled the entire time.

“The next floor is B23. That is where Team Stardust was forced to send a rescue request to their own guild. Are you ready, Emmet?” Ingo asked as the three of them stood next to a flight of stairs.

“Always,” Emmet said.

“Chandelure? What of you?”

Chandelure nodded, energized after consuming a max elixir.

“Very well.” With Ingo leading, Team Conductors entered the next floor.

The difference of the 23rd floor from the rest of the dungeon was immediately apparent. Chandelure’s flames were the only thing that told the team they entered a small room on the floor. Beyond the flames, the walls disappeared into darkness. The snow sparkled, but the darkness combined with the glittering snow to form an illusion that Team Conductors was in outer space.

Ingo pulled an orb from his satchel and held it up. It lit up the room and some of the halls connected to it for a second before returning them to darkness. Ingo frowned more and took out the map. Chandelure’s blue flames provided enough light for them to read the map of the entire floor, thanks to the orb. The map showed hallways that twisted around rooms, numerous dead ends, and overall, a dungeon floor larger than Ingo or Emmet ever saw. Worst of all, the stair’s location was absent.

“So the luminous orb worked… but it’s supposed to provide a light to show the way. Where is it?” Ingo asked.

“At least we have Chandelure to help us,” Emmet said. “Let’s watch our step and keep going!”

“Guide the way, my Chandelure.” At Ingo’s suggestion, they floated ahead of the Sneasels and moved through one of the halls.

As the three walked through the floor, the eeriness of the situation grew. No items were on the ground in any room. No pokemon wandered around to challenge them to a fight, either. Team Conductors roamed the hallways with only themselves for company.

Or that’s what they thought. After a half-hour of exploring, they heard a calm but authoritative voice. “…There! There’s the blue light!”

“I just wanna go towards it!” a second voice piped in, sounding like they were half-asleep.

“Pull yourself together, Nidorino…” a third voice said, also sounding like he just woke up from a nap.

“Hello? We’re a rescue team! Come here!” Ingo called out, pointing at the direction of the voices and at the ground.

“You’re a rescue team? So are we!” the first voice said. Two sets of footsteps ran towards Team Conductors. Though Chandelure braced for battle, Ingo and Emmet did not.

The three pokemon got close enough to be lit by Chandelure’s flames. One was a Musharna with a satchel identical to Ingo’s. The second was a Nidorino wearing a thorny scarf. The third – the leader – was Lucian the Medicham, wearing his signature X-specs.

“Greetings, Team Stardust! I am Ingo. The fellow to my right is Emmet, and the fellow to my left is Chandelure,” Ingo said with a hat tip.

“Oh, you’re Team Conductors!” Lucian said.

“You guys are the ones who wake everyone up every morning…” Musharna said with a yawn.

“You’re the ones helping us?” Nidorino asked, obviously concerned.

“Well, we wanted to ensure your safety by visiting you and providing items.” Ingo and Emmet reached into their bags and pulled out a total of three apples and gave one to each member. “But while we were on route, Emmet and I came up with an alternate route escape plan.”

“You didn’t have a plan before?” Nidorino asked between massive bites of his apple.

“I’ve been meditating for the past day trying to come up with an escape method but had nothing.” Lucian took a single bite from his apple and gave the rest to Musharna. “I would love to see what you came up with.”

“Emmet! Prepare for departure!” Ingo said.

Emmet held up his claws and struck the floor, cracking the snow. “Follow the rules and drive safely. We’re headed for victory! All aboard!” Emmet proceeded to continue Digging down. “Don’t decouple from me, Ingo!”

After a minute, Ingo dug his claws into the walls of the hole and began climbing down. “Once we confirm we entered another floor, I will have Chandelure safely lower you down. Please remain seated,” he said. Once he was inside, Chandelure held its arms up to fit and floated down after the Sneasels.

Lucian, Musharna, and Nidrorino watched the weird rescue team descend.

“Would this actually work, Lucian?” Nidorino asked.

“Hm, not sure. In regular dungeon, it’s theoretically possible but unlikely since the density of ground between floors is too hard and dense to dig through. But this dungeon is made entirely of snow…” Lucian hummed while thinking over the twin’s plan. “It’s worth a try, at the very least.”

Ten minutes passed. Chandelure’s light disappeared long ago, returning Team Stardust to darkness. After fifteen minutes, a hole appeared in the ceiling above them. Blue light shone through, followed by Ingo and Emmet’s voices.

“I see something!” Emmet said above them.

“Wait… Pull the brakes! Brake, Emmet!” Ingo was too late. Emmet broke through the ceiling with his claws and fell down. Lucian jumped to his feet from his meditating position and ran to where Emmet would land, catching the Sneasel in his arms.

“Strange. Verrrry strange,” Emmet said after looking around. He dusted loose snow off his coat and stood back on his feet. Chandelure let Ingo climb onto their arms and floated back down to ground level. Emmet looked up at the hole. Emmet’s face smiled. His eyes did not. ”How did that happen? I dug straight down.”

Lucian grabbed a radar orb from Musharna’s bag and dropped it down the hole Emmet made in the ground. A few seconds later, the same orb fell from the hole in the ceiling and shattered on landing.

“That is not the round trip we needed…” Ingo said. Chandelure floated to Ingo and frowned, almost begging for reassurance that they weren’t trapped.

“So much for that… We really are stuck here…” Musharna said, once again yawning.

“I appreciate the effort, Team Conductors” Lucian said. “But it’s back to waiting for proper assistance.”

“Please forgive me and Emmet for not being able to free you,” Ingo said, his shame more evident in his voice than on his face. “Please forgive us…”

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Here’s Negan”

Imagine for the 22nd episode of season 10 

Summary: Until they can find their way back to one another, both Negan and the Reader have to deal with the ghosts of their pasts and overcome present threats that try to rob them of their future in Alexandria 

Leaves rustled underneath Negan’s feet as he moved through the thick undergrowth of the forest, only stopping as he watched Carol kneel down for a second to pull a dead rabbit out of its trap, the first success of this little hunting trip. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for getting me the hell out of there for a bit. I mean you may have noticed things with Maggie and I are a little bit tense”, he spoke up, clearing his throat as he thought back to yet another encounter with her earlier today during his reconstruction shift by the woodhouses. She hadn’t said anything, as usual, but if looks could kill, fuck, he’d be as dead as mutton right now.  Carol only nodded as she got back on her feet, without looking just once at him as she kept on strolling. ”I don’t mind being lay little Negan for a bit but hell, there’s only so far I can go to get out of her way”, Negan started back up, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as they moved out of the darkness of the forest onto more open woodland that was covered with with a couple scattered bushes. He was trying to lead this conversation into a direction without directly going at it like a bull at the gate, hoping that this would give him better chances but Carol either didn’t want or didn’t get the clues he’d been throwing into their rather one-sided conversations since they’d stepped out of the gates of Alexandria.  They still had a deal, and she still hadn’t done her part. A thick sigh left his lips as he looked over at her, before he started back up, for yet another, but more offensive try. “You know I was thinking maybe you put in a word for me”, he said, careful not to trip as he moved over the grassy, overgrow ground,”Let’s move things over at least kinda get the ball rolling. Given our recent history, I kinda figured you owe me that much, right?” Nothing. She didn’t say anything, not even the slightest peep and instead moved straight towards a shabby looking cabin at the end of the clearing, leaving him startled for a moment as he stared in between her and the small house. "You know this place?”, he called out as she kept walking, not turning back to look at him and instead just hummed in agreement.  A small but frustrated groan fell from his lips as he sped up his steps to catch up with her, trying to figure out what she was up to and what that cabin had to do with it until she stopped right on its porch and let the door swing open for him to look inside.  He should’ve known. Fuck he should’ve known that she hadn’t taken him on this trip here because of the goodness of her heart, she had a plan all along and that plan was to get him out of Alexandria. For good. “I see you went ahead and moved me in”, it left his lips with a scoff as he stepped inside the cabin and looked at the boxes that stood in the middle of the room, filled with his belongings while his leather jacket was thrown over a rocking chair right next to them.  This was like a bad dream, a fucking bad dream that he just wanted to wake up from.  ”I’m sorry. The council voted to banish you”, Carol’s voice ripped his eyes from the boxes and darted them at her as she shrugged her shoulders slightly She wasn’t sorry. Nor did the council vote to banish him. This was bullshit. He’d been right there when Gabey had told his wife about the council’s inactivity during his trip with Aaron, he’d been right there when he’d assured the both of them that no decisions would be made about him as long as they were gone.  She was trying to feed him steaming hot bullshit. “What you want just isn’t gonna happen, it’s not possible”, Carol said, the tone in her voice pretty much the same as the one a nanny would use with a clueless, dumb kid,”I know it’s not what I promised but given our less recent history? It’s better than you deserve.” The corner of her lips quirked up as she looked at him, while a part of him was still not fully getting that this here was happening right now. For nearly two weeks he’d been living and working in Alexandria like anybody else, doing his part to build it back up without any problems. And now this shit was happening out of the blue, trying to tear the life with his wife from him that he’d just reached. Looking at the woman in front of him he furrowed his brows, trying to test the waters first and see what she’d do if he’d start to debunk these lies of hers. “Did the council really banish me or is this more of a Carol seizing the reigns kind of situation?”, he started, but instead of an answer, Carol merely started to smile, a condescending and nearly wicked look in her eyes as she tilted her head a little and looked at him before she strutted past him and pushed the dead animal into his hands. “It’s rabbits for you.” “You really didn’t think this through”, Negan called out as she moved to the door, louder now as he could feel the anger starting to boil slowly but surely up in him. This whole shit wasn’t just about his own ass, Carol was pulling his wife into this bullshit too and this was where he drew the line. She’d been happy during these last two weeks, so damn happy to finally gain a bit of the life she’d always dreamed of having with him and he wasn’t gonna let Carol ruin that happiness of hers merely because she thought it was her place to decide over his fate. “My wife’s part of the council”, he said, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips as he could see her stopping in her tracks,”If any decision like that would’ve been made, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d see her raise hell in that little makeshift church right now.” With that he could see her turning around to him, just enough to look at him, not more. “Oh and-”, he called out, snipping fingers in an overdramatic fashion,”When Gabey left with Aaron, he made sure to tell her the council’s inactive for the time being. There was no fucking vote.” She’d been busted, clearly and he could tell that she didn’t plan for him to pull out arguments like these, but much to his annoyance, it didn’t seem to bother her. The look on her face was the same, nearly indifferent, as if she didn’t care about it. “So if I’m supposed to stay here, what’s gonna happen with her?”, Negan called out as he stepped onto the porch, closing the distance as she shrugged her shoulders. “She’s gonna have to decide.” “She’s one of the only doctors left in Alexandria”, it left his lips with a scoff, the anger now starting to let his body tingle as the indifference in Carol’s voice nearly drove him wild,”She’s gonna choose me. You really wanna risk losing another doc just so you can pull your little solo act here?” “I know what I’m doing”, she just said instead of giving him a true answer, before she turned around to strut towards the edge of the clearing ,”She’s gonna find out. Then we’ll see.” “Carol”, it rumbled through Negan’s trembling chest, up his throat that started to tighten the more anger and desperation boiled up in him as he stepped down the porch. Trying to follow her, he took long steps over the overgrown ground, his heart hammering in his chest before Carol’s hand suddenly fell onto the hunting knife on her belt. “Goodbye Negan”, she called out as her hand wrapped around the knife’s handle to send him a clear warning sign,”Do not try something dumb and do not follow me back.” And with that, she vanished in the thicket of the forest, leaving him to stand there like an abandoned dog while his mind was torn on what to do now.

“How’s the book going?”, you heard Steve’s voice sound through to you as he moved back into the infirmary’s main room, merely some new towels in his hands as he strolled closer. “Pretty good actually”, you said as you nodded down to Negan’s anniversary gift and looked over the dried burdock leaf that he’d glued onto one side and your notes about the medical herb that were already starting to cover the page beside it, “Really starting to look like a handbook.” “Good, I can really use that. Your handwriting is much easier to read than those notes of Siddiq, the info is gold but wow, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a messier handwriting”, Steve said with a soft chuckle, though you could clearly still hear the same sadness sound through it you felt anytime you realized that your friend was gone. A bittersweet look fell between your notebook and  Siddiq’s notes that laid right next to it, that had helped you on every step of the way to fill this book up.  Slowly you started to nod, about to reply to Steve before a mixture of loud voices made your glance shoot up. “We got an emergency”, you could hear a voice call out, stressed and full of panic before you saw the reason for this turmoil that made your mood switch up from one moment to another. Hanging in between a group of four people that carried him as well as they could hung Carter, barely conscious while a large piece of metal protruded his leg that was covered in dark red blood. “He fell from a ladder on one of the broken pipes”, you could hear one of them say entirely out of breath as they pushed inside and the first thick splatters of blood fell onto the floor in the very moment you rushed towards them. “We need help, now.” Negan’s fingertips were digging into the worn down wood of the windowsill, his eyes staring out at the forest while his mind was running wild.  What the fuck was he supposed to do now?  He didn’t wanna head back, run into Carol and find himself with a knife sticking into his damn back. Fuck knew what she’d actually do but he sure as shit wouldn’t risk it, not after the way she’d betrayed his ass just now.  Sighing he started to walk through the shabby cabin, trying to find just anything to do with himself. There was no way his wife would be here anytime soon, even if she’d hear about Carol’s new plan as soon as she’d arrive back at Alexandria, and he highly doubted that. This place was still far out and he was stuck here now. “Fuck this”, he growled, kicking against the rocking chair that was still filled with his belongings even though he felt like a tantrum throwing toddler the moment his foot met the wood. He was fucking stuck here. Gulping thickly he moved in to take his leather jacket into his hands, run his fingers over the smooth leather as he stared down at it, gulping thickly as his eyes found the marks Lucille’s wire had left here years ago.  Looking at them still gave him a bitter feeling. To this day he still didn’t know where she was, no idea what had happed to her after Rick had taken her from his patient’s room in the infirmary. He had no clue if she was somewhere locked away in Alexandria as his wife still hypothesized or if she’d really fallen off that wagon during a weapon transport as Michonne had tried to sell him once...he didn’t know.  Gulping thickly he ran his fingers over the marks, thinking back to the last time he’d held her on that goddamn hill that had decided over his fate and merely the memory of it kicked off another range of thoughts. Could they have brought her back there? Was that a possibility? He’d made up his theories over the year in lonely moments down in that cell, without taking any of them all to serious to not let them fuck with his head but the more he thought about it now, the more it seemed like an actual possibility. Rick had always been a nostalgic fucker, he could see him going back there and placing his Lucille at the place he’d slashed his throat and ended the war only to tie up loose ends, only to put some kind of symbolic end to it and give himself another piece of peace after Carl’s death. He could give it a try, right? Just to keep his mind occupied and pass the time until he could make any other decisions for his future. If his wife would even arrive here today, she wouldn’t do so soon, so even if it would just keep him busy instead of actually bring his bat back, this was worth a try, right? 

Blood, so much blood. For way too long if felt like you only saw red everywhere you looked. Carter’s leg, the bandages, the cot and the floor until you finally saw Steve’s blood covered hands handing you the last bit of tape to secure the edge of the thick bandage that was wrapped around the leg, marking the end of this ordeal. it took yet another while until you were sure that Carter was stable and the next shift started that finally displace you before you could wash the blood off your hands and stumble outside, plummet down onto the bench that leaned against the wall.  Sighing thickly propped your elbows onto your knees, trying to get yourself to realize that you were done for today and were allowed to relax now before you saw Steve moving outside, two glasses of water in his hands.  “Thought we could use a bit of a refreshment”, he said, a tired tone in his voice as he stretched one of the glasses towards you. “Thank you”, you mumbled with an exhausted smile, taking the glass from his hand before he let himself fall next to you and sighed deeply. “God I’m glad our shift is over now”, he said, relief swinging through his voice as you took a sip of your water and leaned back against the cushion of the bench,”Can’t wait to go home, eat some dinner with Daniel and then take a big nap.” “Mhmm...sounds like a good plan”, you said, taking another gulp of the water before a small chuckle fell from your lips,”Negan and I found have that DVD collection in our house and honestly, I just wanna out whatever in that console, plunge down on the couch and just shut my brain out.” A sigh left your lips, exhausted but content as you already looked forward to the moment you’d be able to cuddle up against him and switch this bench for the comfy couch. ”Just relax and watch some kinda show, even though I’ll probably fall asleep while I’m at it tho”, you mumbled, a soft yawn leaving your lips as you heard Steve humming in agreement. ”I like that plan too”, he said as you glimpsed over at him and saw him throwing you an exhausted but cheerful look,”Think I’m gonna have to lend one or two DVDs of yours some time, we’ve been rewatching the same stuff for way too long now.” ”Well you’re always welcome to stop by and take a peek at ‘em”, you chuckled, moving in to take your last sip while a small laugh fell from Steve’s lips. “You bet!” With his hands tightly wrapped around the handle of the shovel he’d luckily found in the back of that cabin, Negan found himself standing on the side of the hill, digging into the soil over and over again. There were already holes scattered all around him, with none if them leading to Lucille, nor any clue about her.  A thick sigh fell from his lips as he turned his head towards the sound of a walker groan in the distance, faint and barely audible but he could see that dirty fucker shuffling at the foot of the hill, awfully slow and thankfully lonely. That asshole wouldn’t be a problem for him for a while. Turning back around he squinted his eyes slightly, keeping them from being dazzled by sinking sun that started to vanish behind the hill’s top, before his eyes fell on the glimmering glass window that was still hung up on the tree, just as it had years ago, still missing the same shard of colorful glass that Rick had used to slash his jugular with.  With a thick gulp Negan looked back down, not all too excited about the memories that started to flood his mind all over again, so instead of spending another moment thinking about the events that had happened here, he dug his shovel back into the soil, hoisting a large piece out of it before a disappointed sound fell from his lips. Again, nothing. “Fuck this”, he growled to himself, staring angrily at the ground below him. Why the fuck was he even so upset? Chances were low that she was actually here, he knew that and still he found himself frustrated.  Clearing his throat he strolled along the hill’s side, a little further upward as he gave himself three more chances and then he’d head back to the cabin. Chance 1? Nothing, he just split a poor damn rainworm in half.  Chance 2? Nothing again, hole was as empty as a dumb fuck’s head. Chance 3?...still, nothing.  “Fuck”, Negan spat out, his hand tightening around the handle, a frustrated groan falling from his lips as he angrily slammed the shovel’s edge into the soil. But instead of the usual shuffling sound, a dull one echoed through the air, letting him flinch and shoot his glance down into the grass as his hands went back to work lickety split. This could be anything, fucking anything but this could also be...it was her.  It was really her.  The barbed wire peaked out of the grass, slightly detached from the wood that was laying there in the ground, just enough dug out for him to clearly see the bat “Holy fuck”, Negan chocked out as he started to carefully rise her out of the soil, his eyes turning wide as he let the shovel fall and leaned down to carefully pick her up.  “Ricky you nostalgic fucker”, Negan mumbled, though his throat was already tightening as he glimpsed down at the bat that had once brought him through this world. He couldn’t believe his eyes for another moment while his thumb ran along the worn down wood that had once been smooth and shiny. He could feel his nose tingling slightly as some tears blurred his view, the mere feeling of holding the bat and the view of her in his hands enough to overwhelm him for a moment.  “Oh my-”, it left his lips as he gulped the thick lump in his throat down, turning the bat softly in his hands to get a good look of her. Nature had taken its toll on her, but the bat was still the same, it still gave him the very same warm and safe feeling after all this time. It was still her. A small sniffle let his lips as he stared down at it and felt the heaviness of the emotions she carried wash over him, nearly putting him into a bubble of memories before the groaning of the walker that had shuffled at the hill’s foot earlier got louder.  Turning around he saw the dead asshole stumbling closer up the hill while a small grin grew on his face as he rocked Lucille in his hands and held her up like he’d done it thousands of times before.  “C’mere fucker”, Negan mumbled, adjusting his posture a little before the walker reached him and he swung Lucille up before rushing her down in a smooth but harsh motion, right against the walker’s skull. A groan fell from his lips as he could see the walker starting to sink to his feet, just as he lunged out one more time and bashed Lucille into the rotting skull, but instead of the squelching sound of flesh, a dull one drowned it that made his heart sink from one moment to another.  “No...no”, he gasped, staring down at his broken bat....at his broken Lucille. She hadn’t only lost her top part, she was split down her length, only held together by the rusted barbed wire at this point and his hands that started to tremble more the longer he looked at her broken parts. One moment ago he’d been basking in the joy of finally finding her again and now, now he could feel the lump in his throat growing again as he stared down at the broken bat.  From joy to grief in one moment, from relief to regret in the other.  “Fuck”, it left his lips with a defeated sound, his eyes welling over with tears as he could feel a dull, pressuring pain spreading over his body, tightening its grasp on him as he fell to his knees and felt the first tear rolling down his cheek as he weighed the broken Lucille in his hands. Could this day become any worse?

The sun was already starting to vanish behind the skyline of the trees as you finally found yourself heading towards Negan’s workplace by the walls, ready to pick him up and just get yourselves home.  ”Hey”, you called out with a tired smile as you finally reached the woodhouses and could see Barbara and Daniel still working outside, though you couldn’t spot Negan yet. ”Hey, is Carter doing fine?”, Daniel asked as he stepped from the porch of the house, leaning himself against the wall as you gave him a quick nod. ”Yeah, took a bit but we’ve got him wrapped up now. He just needs to rest”, you said as you moved closer over the grassy ground and nodded towards the cabin’s door. ”Negan’s inside?” ”Nah”, Daniel said, shaking his head as you glanced confused at him,”Went out with Carol a couple hours ago to hunt. Saw her back around here earlier though, he’s probably already at your home.” ”Ah okay. Thank you”, you started to nod again before you made your way back to the road, not questioning that hunting trip all too much though it surprised you a bit that Carol had decided to take him along with her, mostly because she’d been avoiding the both of you during the last while. Instead of waisting your thoughts any longer on the trip you hurried down the street, just eager to  get home, relax and hear Negan talk a bout his day.  Finally, you moved up the porch stairs of your home, already trying to peek inside and see if Negan was standing by the stove and cooking something but as you stepped inside, you found the living room and kitchen empty. ”Negan? I’m home”, you called out, moving towards the hallway as your only remaining guess was that he had simply just showered and didn’t hear you yet up in your bathroom or was so exhausted that he’d laid down for a quick nap. Moving up the stairs who tried to hear if you could hear him moving around, but instead of footsteps or a rustling sounds you heard nothing but complete silence. “Negan?”, you quietly asked as you opened the door of your bedroom, a part of you nearly waiting to see him sprawled out and snoozing on the bed but as you moved inside, your confusion got doubled. The bed was completely empty, the same way you’d left it this morning but your closet stood open, the bunch of shirts and pants that usually laid stocked up next to your clothes gone. ”What the-”, it fell from your lips, cut off by your confusion as you moved towards the closet and looked at his Negan’s nearly empty spot. Not all was gone, a bit of his clothes way left, some boxer shorts, a couple white shits and some sweatpants but that was it. More confusion flooded your head with every second you stared longer at the opened door, trying to piece the parts of this puzzle together even though you didn’t even have merely enough of them to make sense of this.  Negan wouldn’t leave, that was an option that you could exclude from the very first moment on but you still didn’t know what to think and what Negan’s absence and his missing clothes meant, before it slowly started to trickle down on you and a bitter suspicion washed over you.  If anyone had to know something about this, it had to be the last person he’d been seen with. Feeling your heart starting to hammer in your chest you rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet as you moved down the hallway and back into your living room. Your eyes were roaming over the room as you hurried through it, as if they were trying to pick more pieces to this puzzle on your way out and from one moment to another, they did.  Next to the vase of flowers on your dinner table laid a folded up piece of paper that you hadn’t even noticed when you’d first stepped back into your home, a piece of paper that looked like a map as soon as you got closer.  Still filled with confusion and tension you grabbed it, unfolding it with quick movements only to feel a wave of nausea wash over you as soon as you saw the cross that marked a spot on the paper and the note underneath it that confirmed your suspicion. “Negan has been banished from Alexandria. Marked spot shows the cabin’s he’s residing at from now on.”

Nausea, anger, fear and desperation turned into a toxic cocktail within your body as you found yourself rushing down the street, clasping tightly onto the map while your eyes were fixated at the brownstones in front of you, blending out anything and anyone else on the road. Your breath was heavy, your body trembling and nearly cramped up with suspense while the growing anger made your body heat up to the point that made it feel like it was on fire while you stormed into the first brownstone’s hallway, heading up the flight of stairs with heavy, fast steps towards Carol’s apartment.  She’d done it again. A fucking solo act. You just knew it. And this time she’d gone way too far and she’d pay for that. Banging against the door of her apartment you could feel the side of your hand starting to heat up as it met the wood over and over again until you finally heard footsteps inside that finally stopped right in front of you and the squeaking of the opening door echoed through the staircase.  “What is this?!”, you snapped the moment you saw her face, holding up the map in your hand as you glared at her,”What the fuck did you do?” “I did what I had to do”, she said, the tone in her voice indifferent but firm, not at all bothered by your reaction as if she’d already known that you’d come to her place earlier or later. “Are you kidding me?!”, you called out, feeling your voice starting to tremble as the anger within you started to become more and more the longer you had to look at her. “This wasn’t a situation that could stay the same any longer”, she merely said, in the very same tone as before ,”i did what was necessary to not let it escalate.” With that, she tried to close the door on you only for your flat hand to push harshly against the wood, letting it flip open again as you could feel it boiling within you. First she pulled this shit, then acted as if what she was in the right and now she tried to fob you off.  “No, no you didn’t”, you snapped, moving forward to push into her apartment so she couldn’t even try to close the door again ,”Your job was to hold up to your end of the bargain. You told me you’d do it.” “Things don’t always work out the way we want them to”, she said, a lecturing tone in her voice, almost as if she was talking to a child instead of an adult,”You should know that by now.” Staring at her you could feel your whole body tense up, could feel an anger seeping into your body that you hadn’t felt before, an anger that got you worked up, an anger that was fueled by the frustration of unfairness over the years, an anger that was emotionally loaded with your urge to protect your husband and the life you’d just gained. The life that was threatened by the reckless act of the woman in front of you that looked at you with an indifference that drove you wild. “You fucking bitch”, you spat out, your self control starting to leave your body as you closed the distance between the both of you and could hear your trembling voice starting to become louder. “You’ve had Negan do your goddamn dirty work, risk his damn life and kill that skinfreak and instead of doing the goddamn bare minimum of laying in a good fucking word for him you had the goddamn audacity to go into our home, go through his stuff and lead him outside under a goddamn pretext”, you yelled out, heavy breaths shaking through your chest as you glared down at her,”You took the fucking easy way out! Like always.” “I did him a favor”, she dared to say, so firm and cold that you could feel the suspense in your body starting to skyrocket,”Maggie would have killed him at some point if I wouldn’t have brought him outside.” “Stop with that fucking bullshit!”, you snapped, stepping closer towards her as she still didn’t even flinch once,”You did yourself a favor. Maggie won’t do shit to him, not on my watch, nor if you would’ve done your part of the deal. You just did this shit so you don’t have to show some responsibility for your actions for fucking once.” “I stand with my decision”, she said the moment your voice hushed, a condescending smile starting to spread over her lips as she tilted her head and looked at you,”And I will not change it. We all have to deal with our own shit and so do you.” There’s this certain moment when anger gets so intense it puts a person into a trance, the type of anger that swallows someone up, puts a bubble around them and turns them from a seething volcano into one that is seconds away from erupting.  And right now, that was happening to you.  You couldn’t see clear anymore, your view a blur, the map fallen from your hands that were balled so tightly your knuckles turned white while your head was clouded with rage that just needed one little more push to kick you off the eruption. And Carol gave that kick to you, with one small sentence. ”And considering what he’s done in the past he got better than he deserved.” A dull but loud sound echoed through the air as your fist meet her jaw, fast and hard enough to make her stumble back for a moment while your hands were already wrapping around her throat, not tight enough to choke her but tight enough to get a hold on her to push her into the nearest wall. “Considering what he’s done?!”, you screamed, your hands still wrapped around her throat as you glared wide eyes down at her,“What he’s fucking done?!” For the first time she didn’t say anything, her eyes were staring into the emptiness, unwilling to meet yours at first before your grasp tightened just enough to finally make her look into your face. “He saved our fucking asses. He did the shit you couldn’t get done!”, you yelled, your voice still trembling, near before breaking and only held up by the anger that had finally found its valve,”All you’ve done lately is get people killed!” For the first time since you’d stepped into this apartment you saw a stirring in her eyes while your own started to fill with tears, blurring your glance as your voice kept screaming at her. “Stop with the fucking solo acts! Fucking stop ruining the lives of everyone around you!” Just then you slowly started to come back as the anger started to become replaced with the fear and sadness that simmered underneath the rage. Your hands fell of her throat as you stepped back, staring at your shaking right hand whose knuckles were flushed in a bright red from the lunge you’d taken at her. Sniffles started to fall from your lips as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, your emotions still so strong that they were keeping your whole body under control. “I’m sick of this”, you felt it rolling quietly from your trembling lips as more tears fell from your eyes and the build up frustration got the best of you. For a moment there, you were almost scared of yourself, of how much that anger had taken hold of you, of how it had pushed through your usual levelheadedness, something that hadn’t happened quite like this before but you’ve just had enough, of the constant fears, of the constant playing with Negan’s life and the hypocrisy that you had to face from the same people over and over again. You weren’t sorry for what you did. You were actually glad you’d finally put her in her place. Sniffing you looked back up, gulping thickly as you saw her leaning against the wall, staring at you at you, an odd mix of coldness and shock in her eyes as you reached for the map on the ground and glared one last time over at her. “I will come back with my husband and you’ll hold up to the end of the deal or I swear to god I’ll raise hell.” Fire was burning in the small fireplace of the cabin, lightening up the room that was becoming darker and darker with every passing moment. The flames ate away at the chops of wood, its warm light illuminating up the glass in his hands that was filled up with some whiskey he’d found tucked away in one of the counters. Shuffling over the small stool by the fire he tried to get as comfortable as he could, huffing to himself as his eyes swayed from Lucille that laid propped up against the wall next to the fireplace over into the flames.  How the fuck did he get to this point?  Where exactly did he go wrong to end up sitting here on that fucking hard stool that made his ass hurt, staring into the flames while the only thing that was there to keep him company him in these moments was that damn whiskey in his glass? 

The sun was already gone and the dusk was starting to flow into the night when you found yourself walking away from Alexandria, a small backpack buckled around your shoulders and a hunting knife in one hand, the map in your other.  Going out now was dangerous and you knew it but you couldn’t care less, nor did you have much of a choice. Staying was no option, you had to find Negan, better earlier than later and make sure to reverse whatever Carol had brought about. Fuck knows what else she’d told him that she might have withheld from you. You were still on edge, still completely filled up with tension that kept a tight hold on your body while you did your very best to stay focused and not run into a group of dead fucks.  A shivering breath fell from your lips, turning into a cloud of steam the moment you breathed it out as you could feel the cold of the approaching night starting to sneak up on you, slipping underneath your jacket while your cold hands were clasping onto your knife. Moving up you flipped on the small pocket flashlight that was dangling on one of the belts of your backpack and moved the map to make sure that you were still following the right route.  Squinting your eyes your glance roamed over the paper, trying to get a grip of it before you folded it back up, switched the flashlight off and slowly moved down the blacktop to follow a narrow, nearly overgrown path into the forest, hoping that the moonlight would be enough to guide you. Step by step you found yourself halting and looking at the map, catching your thoughts and worries feeding away at your concentration that in turn fueled the frustration that was still reigning within you.  By now, you should have already reached the stream that ran closeby the marked spot on the map, but neither did you hear flowing water anywhere near you, nor did you know exactly anymore if you were on the right track. “Shit”, you grumbled to yourself as you stared at the map, half mad at the whole situation, half mad at yourself for not getting your shit together before the sudden sound of groans made your glance shoot up. In a knee-jerk reaction you shut the small light back off and reached for a tighter grasp on your knife, looking around yourself before you caught a group of six or seven walkers wandering through the woods.  Squeezing your mouth shut you tried to stay quiet, avoid attracting the dead as you slowly stepped back, trying to let the shadow of the trees shield you from being spotted before you heard a loud crack as a dried branch broke beneath your shoe. “Damnit”, you whispered to yourself, gulping thickly as you watched the walkers turn their head towards you, snarling as they spotted your figure and started to stumble into your direction. There was no way you could take them on now without putting yourself too much at risk, in the middle of the night, with your head filled up with emotions that worked against your concentration and an exhausted mind that was trying to press in on you whenever it possibly could. This was not a fight you should take on, not now. Turning around you started to move further into the dark, trying to put distance between yourself and the dead to hide out behind a tree and wait for them to pass. The thick undergrowth made it hard for you to move quick and made you more careful to not trip and get yourself into even bigger problems. With every step it felt like you could hear the groans continuously echoing through the dark while your heart started to speed up again and pumped against your chest, so loud you could nearly hear it pounding in your ears. Glimpsing behind yourself you couldn’t see them anymore, enough for you to figure that they wouldn’t be able to see you either and with a bunch of more steps you moved to your left and rounded the nearest, thickest tree to brace yourself tightly against its stem to be out of view for the dead. Gulping thickly you tried to keep your fastening breath under control as your eyes kept on roaming over the dim lit forest, your position not allowing you to see any of the walkers but instead only hear them as they started to come closer. The groans got louder and louder, mixing with the sound of their shuffling steps as you kept your body tightly pressed against the tree and tried to calm your heavy breathing down, telling yourself that this was all you had to do until you could go back to searching for that damn cabin. For a moment, you could feel yourself tense up again as you heard them starting to pass you, merely a bunch of meters past your spot before their groans slowly started to become quieter, and were only a quiet sound in the distance a small while later.  Finally, you allowed yourself to let out a thick sigh and close your eyes for a moment, trying to get your concentration back on and continue your search for the cabin. Pushing yourself away from the stem you moved forwards, trying to figure out how far you’d moved from your original spot as you walked as quietly as you could back into your old direction, still holding tightly onto the map and your knife before a gasp left your lips as you felt a cold hand grabbing your ankle and a low, nearly inaudible groan echoed through the air. The sudden grasp was harsh and strong enough to make you lose your balance and fall to the hard ground, a painfilled groan falling through your lips as the fall made a stinging pain rush up from your rump up your back. Panicking you glanced up, watching as a severely decayed walker tried to peel itself from the spot by the tree it had grown attached to, its nearly entirely destroyed jaw hanging from its skull along with its rotting tongue that kept it from making sounds any louder than a hum.  “Shit”, you growled, kicking towards the dead to make it lose its grasp on your ankle while it suddenly lunged towards you as it detached itself with one last push from the moss overgrown tree. Gasping you could feel it landing above you, its dead hands grasping you as it tried to snap forward, its disgusting stench rising up your nose as you could feel your survival instincts kicking in and mixing with the built up frustration, as well as with the anger and the distress Carol had brought over you earlier.  Glaring into the dead eyes of the walker you rushed your knife up, aiming for its head as you’d done it with thousands of walkers before, but instead of seeing the blade dig into its skull, the walker’s arm reached up in the very same moment and made the blade sink into its flesh while it kept on snapping at you. From one second to another the frustration filled your whole head again, fueling the rage that had never truly calmed down within you as you let out a frustrated groan and pushed the dead with all your strength off of your body. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole”, you growled out, ripping the blade out of the dead’s arm as you kept it caged beneath you, hearing its snapping sounds in the very moment you let the blade rush down with all of your strength into the rotting skull. But instead of stopping there you could feel the tension and all those pent up emotions taking you over, clasping onto you as as they filled your head and made the knife stab over and over again into the walker’s head while emotion fueled memories rushed through your head. The constant fear to lose Negan while he was gone, the happiness you’d felt to finally get a life with him you’d always wished for and now, having it nearly torn away from you again just because one fucking person would rather go on and try to fuck up your lives all over again instead of doing the bare goddamn minimum she’d promised to do. And now, instead of being cuddled up on the couch with Negan in your home, you were in the middle of the dark fucking woods, trying to smooth out the fucking disaster Carol had kicked off again, with no fucking clue where you actually were, hanging over a fucking walker that had nearly tried to kill your ass. Over and over again your knife rushed down into the skull, your mind anywhere but actually here, as pants erupted your whole body and made you shake while your heart pumped up your throat. And just then as you pulled your knife once more out of the destroyed skull you realized that you were crying again, sobbing actually as you fell back off the dead onto the ground and stared at what you’d just done.  ”Fuck”, it left your trembling lips as you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears while more hot tears streamed down your face and blurred your vision. Sniffling you looked up at the stars to calm yourself down and avoid looking at the defaced corpse beside you, letting your glance move from one star to another as your heart and your breath finally started to slow down again.  And just then, just as you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears anymore, you could suddenly hear the soft rushing of flowing water nearby that made you prick up your ears. Scrambling to your feet you moved up and followed the sound, hoping that this wasn’t a sick game your mind was playing with you. Brushing your tears off your face you moved closer, step by step and careful to not get yourself into any other tricky situation until a burden seemed to fall right off your shoulders as you peeked through the trees and finally saw the flowing water glistening in the dim moon light. You’d found it, you’d fucking found it.  And now, you just needed to find Negan. Time passed and he still didn’t have an answer to his questions and he knew deep down he’d never truly get them.  A shivering breath fell from his lips as he stared into his emptying whiskey glass, closing his eyes for a moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gulped thickly.  Maybe his wife wouldn’t even show up today here anymore, maybe something happened that made her stay longer at the infirmary and she didn’t even know yet about this whole thing. Regardless of what had truly went down she wasn’t here, and it was starting to eat away at him, just the bare thought of what she must feel as soon as she’d find out. She deserved that life they’d been living lately, that life that could come as close to that apple pie life as a life in the damn apocalypse could. She deserved every single part of it, regardless of it was merely being able to wake up in a warm, cozy bed in the morning or to lay outside in the garden to watch the sunset turn the sky into a ray of pretty colors without a worry in the world.  But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was on his way to pull the woman he loved once more into his misery.  Shivering and clasping onto his glass he found himself glimpsing at Lucille, at the barbed wire and the broken wood that broke his heart all over again. He hadn’t been able to give her the life she deserved to live, and now the same thing was about to happen with (Y/N) too, all over again. Maybe he just didn’t deserve to have his happy end. He’d been such a fucking asshole, such a goddamn fucking asshole that never deserved for Lucille to put up with him the way she did after everything that had happened after he lost his job.  He could still way too vividly remember the anger he’d felt after that asshole had gotten him fired, that goddamn asshole from that bar that had provoked him, snarled at Lucille and then came at him so he’d simply lost it and beat him into the ground. He could blame that fucker all he wanted for provoking him, for coming at him, for making him lose his job at the school, for suing him and making his Lucille pay for the fucking hospital bills because he couldn’t anymore, but he couldn’t blame him for the decisions he’d made after.  Losing his job and being put on prohibition for this bullshit had made him fall into a deep hole, one that he hadn’t been able to crawl out from, one that had turned him into a fucking undeserving bastard. A bastard that hadn’t known how to get back on his feet. A bastard that had gone as far to cheat on his wife with her goddamn friend just to make himself feel appreciated in some sick way. A bastard that hadn’t gone to pick her up from her MRI because he was busy fucking said friend.  A bastard that needed to see her throw the chemo brochures right onto the table in front of him and tell him she had cancer to finally turn his life around. He was still ashamed of himself, so fucking ashamed of the things he’d done back then and nothing, nothing that he’d done after had made him feel like he’d been able to make up for the shit he’d done before. Sniffling, Negan found himself shifting over the stool, his eyes filled with tears as he stared at the bat and felt his trembling fingers fumble on the glass in his hands, trying to distract himself from the memories that started to flood his head and torture him. He’d fought like hell to make up for the shit he’d done, he’d fought like hell to keep her going as this hell of a world had broken loose in the midst of her treatment, finding bag after bag for her chemo and teach himself how to administer it. He’d tried to keep her spirits high and brought her this bunch of wigs he’d found on a run in an abandoned shop, he tried his best to keep their generator going and free of the dead so they could watch movies even if killing walkers freaked the shit out of him back then, he’d tried to sing their song to her and hold her in the freezing nights that made her nausea usually worse. He’d tried to be a good husband. He’d tried to be the man she deserved and not give up even when things had taken their turn for the worse and that fucking generator had shut down in the middle of the night and made them lose the last bags of useable chemo supplies. He could still remember their last conversation that day, how she’d told him that she’d known about his affair all along, how she’d known that he’d stopped and never talked to her again after her diagnosis, how she wanted him to know that he’d made up for it and that he could stop pushing himself now.  He could remember how she’d asked him to stay, how she asked him to give up searching for new chemo supplies and just be with her when she went. He could remember how she told him that it was time for him to move on without her and instead, do her fighting for her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her and he couldn’t bear letting her go. So he went out again.  It took weeks of searching until he found the medical RV of Laura and her father, and it took yet another run in with a fucking gang of biker pigs until he could finally drive home with the chemo bags and bring them too her only to find out that after everything, he’d been too late.  She was already gone.  ODed, with a bag over her head, a belt around her neck that tied her to the bed so she couldn’t lunge at him and “Please don’t leave me like this” written over the door.  She’d killed herself while he was gone, while he was gone out there searching for supplies when he should’ve just listened to her.  She shouldn’t have died there with that fucking plastic bag over her head, she should’ve been able to fall peacefully asleep in his arms and drift off into an eternal sleep.  And after everything, he couldn’t even go through with taking her down, he just couldn’t bring himself to dive a knife into her and instead he ended up trying to stun his grief with alcohol until he took the last resort and set his home on fire, hoping it would take her down and fulfill her last wish. He’d always wanted to make things better with (Y/N). From the moment on he found himself falling for her he wanted to make sure that he’d make things right this time and again, he’d failed. He didn’t get to give her the life she deserved, instead, she was stuck with him for years in that cell, giving him more than he could ever give her back and each time he thought about it, it felt like god played a sick game with him. Here you go have a second chance at love, but beware, you won’t be able to do things right now either. This fucking cabin, this fucking situation was the living proof of it and he didn’t know how to cope with it, how to cope with the fucking possibility that he was part of the reason their life would be destroyed again after it seemed like they‘d finally been able to settle down into a more peaceful life.  Wincing Negan could feel himself erupting in more tears as he felt the empty glass fall with a dull thud from his hands onto the wooden floor, echoing through his head as a whimper fell from his trembling lips as his mind drifted to something that had whirled through it far more than once during the last weeks. Something (Y/N) had said to him after he’d melted down and asked her how she’d been able to fall in love with him back at the start, something Lucille had said to him when he’d asked her in tears how why she’d put up with him even after everything he’d done. “I already saw the man in you that you are right now”, were (Y/N)’s words, so hauntingly similar to the words Lucille had told him this one night that it made a shudder run down his back any time he thought of it. How in hell did he deserve for two women to fall in love with him and see something in him that he’d never been able to grasp? How did he deserve for those two women to love him so deeply they’d stick with him through anything and never lose their faith in him? How the fuck did he deserve that? Sniffling, Negan looked into the flames, the fire only a blur of red and orange before he reached up to brush the tears off his cheeks and run his hand down his face to keep himself from losing it entirely. Trembling he dried his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, sighing deeply as he glimpsed back at the fireplace only to flinch up in the very same moment as he heard the squeaking wood door open behind him and heard the voice he’d been dying to hear for hours. “Negan?” Your voice was faint and careful as you said his name and stepped into the cabin, watching as Negan turned around from his spot by the fireplace with a relieved but still startled look on his face. “Hey”, you could hear him say, his voice strained and thick with emotion as he stumbled towards you and just then gave you a chance to see his slightly reddened eyes, the exhausted look on his face and the slight wetness that was still daubing his cheeks. But before you could say anything he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tightly into his embrace, cradling you against his chest while his trembling body pressed up against yours.  You only hugged him back without saying anything yet, cuddling into him to finally feeling his warmth enclosing you after the turmoil that you’d been through until you’d finally found this place. And then slowly, very slowly Negan started to loosen his grasp on you, before he backed just enough away to look down at you and run his glance over your face, as if he was trying to check if you were fine. “Are you okay?”, it instead fell from your lips as you reached up to softly stroke over his wet cheek, a worried look pressing in over your face as he slowly started to nod. “I’m much better now that you’re here”, he mumbled, leaning in to press a soft, nearly delicate kiss over your lips before a small sniffle left his lips and you glimpsed for the first time away from him and through the room that was only enlightened by the small fire.  Carol had truly given her all, putting two full baskets of Negan’s belongings into this cabin, along with his leather jacket that hung over a rocking chair by the windows and something else that suddenly caught your eye, something that leaned against the wall by the fireplace and nearly made you believe your mind was playing tricks on you. “What-”, it left your lips as you stared at the bat, furrowing your brows in utter surprise as your glance stayed stuck on it,”Is that Lucille?” A soft sigh fell from Negan’s lips as grasped your jaw gently, just enough so he’d get you to look at him before he gulped thickly and nodded towards the spot by the fireplace. “Let’s just sit down for a moment, okay?” Mere minutes later you found yourself sitting on a small stool next to Negan by the fire, listening to him as he talked about how this day had played out for him. How Carol had lead him into the woods, how he had gone back to the hill of the war to see if he could find Lucille and how she broke just mere moments after he found her. From moment to moment you could find your eyes hooked on the broken bat, still not quite believing that she’d been there all this time while you’d searched all of Alexandria for her, so confident in the thought that they’d actually hid her somewhere around town. “When did you find out?”, you heard Negan say, ripping your glance from Lucille and back at him. “Around sunset? I was longer than planned at the infirmary”, you said, gulping thickly as you shuffled a little over the stool below you,”Carter fell on a broken pipe and we just...we just took some time until we had him all fixed up and then when I wanted to go pick you up from the woodhouses...Daniel told me that you’d gone out with Carol to hunt earlier but that he’d seen her around again.” A thick sigh fell from your lips as you glanced down for a moment, shrugging your shoulders softly before your eyes met his again. “So I guessed you’d already be back home and when I got there I just found our closet open, with some of your stuff gone and that damn map on the dinner table”, you mumbled, nodding towards the map that laid along with the backpack next to your stool. “I didn’t take off right away”, you added, letting out a huff as the mere thought of it put some new tension right back onto you,”Paid Carol a visit before and I just-...I lost it.” With that, Negan’s brows perked up, half curious, half worried as you sighed quietly and shrugged softly. “I may or may not have punched her and pushed her into a wall...by her throat.” “You did what?”, you heard Negan say, something that could even come close to a chuckle fell from his lips as he still looked with perked brows at you, clearly waiting for you to go on. “Wouldn’t say I’m proud of it... can’t remember the last time I blew a fuse like that-”, you said, stopping yourself as you could feel yourself getting worked up again though you surely didn’t want that to happen now all over again,”But the things she said-...how she said them. She smiled into my damn face while she said it, so fucking demeaning and full of ignorance...I just-” “Yeah, can imagine that”, Negan said as soon as your voice broke off, nodding as he clenched his jaw slightly ,”Pulled the same attitude here.” “And then she said on top of it all that you got better than you deserve with this cabin here and it just clicked”, you said with another sigh, before a thick gulp travelled down your throat as Negan reached out for your hand to take it into his, squeezing it softly as you could feel your emotions starting to well up again. “After everything, you deserve so, so much more”, you said, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand while you could see Negan’s eyes softening,”You deserve the damn world.” With that, his reddened eyes started to fill back up with tears and a thick gulp travelled down his throat as his hand grasped yours tighter and a small sniffle fell from his lips. “You do, Baby...you do”, he choked out, trying to keep his voice up by all means as his glance feel in between the bat and you, his eyes blurred with tears as you shuffled closer towards him,”You do. Lucille did. And I-...I don’t know how I got so lucky to hit the jackpot twice.” It didn’t take more than that for your emotions to get the best of you again and fill your eyes with tears as well and boil all those feelings that had whirled through you back up, while Negan shook his head as the first tears fell from his eyes. “I just-...you put all these years up with me being in that damn cell, you went through so much pain because of me and for all these fucking years I couldn’t give you the life you deserved till those last two weeks happened and now whatever we just got is gone again and I-”, he sniffled, his voice thick with emotion as he shook his head and glanced at the bat, “I couldn’t give Lucille the life she deserved, I couldn’t even keep the world and that fucking cancer from hurting her and then-” Tears kept falling down his face as his eyes were hooked on your intertwined hands, sniffles falling from his lips as his grasp on your hand  got a little tighter. “And then when I fell in love with you I just-”, he winced, a shaking breath falling from his lips as he gulped thickly,”I vowed to myself to protect you and take care of you no matter the fucking cost. I just wanted to finally make things right and instead I fucked everything up all over again.” You only shook your head, unable to say something as a thick lump started to grow in your throat again and you could feel yourself hurting just listening to him. You’ve had these type of conversations before but this time, with these circumstances it just hurt so much more to see him beating himself up. “All I want is give you that damn apple pie life. In that house, with movies every damn night, with dinners together, and someday with kids that can run through that house and play in that backyard and drive us crazy...and it fucking destroys me that I can’t..that I’m the fucking reason you can’t have that.” “That’s not true”, you shook your head as you felt the first tears roll down your cheeks, “We can have that and we will, also because you ripped your ass off for it. You’ve always bent over backwards to make me happy.” A shivering breath fell from your lips as you moved in closer, trying to ensure that he was looking at you as you reached out for him and cupped his face softly with your free hand. “Just because things didn’t always work out the way we wanted them to doesn’t mean that you made me any less happy and I don’t ever want you to think again that you failed at that...You’ve been the best husband I could ever wish for. I need you to finally believe me when I say that”, you choked out, sniffling as you gave his hand a soft squeeze,”Just as much as I need you to finally believe the things Lucille said to you. She told you you made up, you made sure to make her last months as peaceful and happy as you could within this hell of a world...so you don’t deserve to keep on beating yourself up about it.” Negan choked up as you referred back to the things he’d once told you, still holding on to you as you looked with tearful eyes at him. “I just need you to realize that as long as I got you I’m happy, no matter where we are, no fucking matter if it’s in a cell or a nice home.” You made sure to keep his glance, trying to make sure that your message reached him before your thumb swiped softly over his skin while you tried to swallow down the bigger lump that was growing in your throat again. “I’m so proud of you...I’m so damn proud of the man you’ve been for me for all these years”, you said, smiling through the tears at him as another sniffle fell from your lips and your eyes glimpsed at the bat for a short moment,”And I know she’d be too.” Tears glistened in Negan’s eyes as a shivering hum rumbled up his chest and he grasped your hand tighter, just as you kept on fighting against that lump in your throat to bring out the last thing you needed him to hear. “So we will take your things first thing in the morning and walk back to Alexandria and settle back down into that home where we two belong”, you said your trembling voice almost breaking off as you leaned in closer to him,”No one is going to take that away from us again. Not Carol, not Maggie, not anybody.” Slowly, Negan started to nod, reaching up to take your hand from his cheek to press a kiss over its back while your eyes fell on the bat that still leaned against the wall. “We can take her with us, y’know? Find a nice place in the house”, you said with a sniffle, only to slowly see Negan starting to shake his head. “I think...I think I need to say goodbye”, he mumbled, gulping thickly as his eyes roamed over the broken bat before they fell back on you,”She wanted me to move on without her and do her fighting for her...so I’m finally gonna do that...I’m gonna burn her and then..fuck then we’ll walk home and I’ll keep on fighting for our future. I think she’d want that too.” Slowly, you started to nod and felt Negan press another kiss over the back of your hand, still holding onto you, still shivering as he stared at the bat while it started to dim on you that this was something he had to do alone. He had to say goodbye on his own. So slowly, you moved up from your spot on the stool, loosened your grasp on his hand and instead leaned down to press a kiss onto his forehead while our hand caressed softly over the side of his face. “Just call for me when you need me back in here”, you mumbled as Negan visibly got tense  before he started to nod, but still kept a hold on you for another moment, as if he needed your closeness a little longer to prepare himself.  As soon as his grasp loosened and you knew he was ready you quietly moved out of the house and let yourself fall onto the porch’s stairs, where you soon heard Negan’s voice rumble through the air, still filled heavily with emotions but firm enough to not break as he spoke up. “I’m sorry that I left you...I was a coward. I couldn’t face the pain of losing you so I ran away...and then I made myself not feel anything because I didn’t want to feel the shame...I’m sorry that you went out like that, I should have been there. I’m sorry that I named a stupid baseball bat after you...and I’m sorry for the all pain I put you through...I still miss you”, you heard his voice say, so clear that you could hear him forcing himself to keep going even though he could barely hold himself back, so filled with emotion and pain that it broke your heart all over again. “I promise, I’m gonna do your fighting for you”, you heard him say,  breaking at the end before the sound of rustling wood could be heard and you knew that he’d laid her into the flames. Only seconds passed until you heard him calling your name, the same shivering tone stuck in it  as you hurried back into the cabin and watched him standing by the fireplace, with tears in his eyes while Lucille laid within the flames that slowly ate away at her wood.  He was gulping heavily, new tears already falling from his eyes as you moved in to hug him tightly and felt him wrapping his arms back around you within mere milliseconds. “I love you, so much”, he mumbled into your hair, cradling you against his body while sniffles fell from his lips and trembles still shook through him.  “I love you too”, you mumbled back, cuddling against him as he held tightly onto you and didn’t dare to loosen his embrace just once before another sniffling sigh fell from his lips. “I hope Lucille’s up there in heaven and has found someone who makes her just as happy as you make me”, Negan mumbled shakily into your hair, cradling you closer as you nodded softly against him, so touched all over again that you felt new tears welling up into your eyes. “I’m sure she has”, you mumbled, only able to bring these few words out before your throat tightened and made you voice break off again while Negan rocked you gently in his arms, keeping you safely locked in his embrace until the world finally started to feel at peace around you.  Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life as soon as you’d walk through Alexandria’s gates, defying any of Carol’s plans, defying anyone that still doubted you, defying your past to pave your way to the future that you both wanted. You would keep on fighting for it, side by side like it you’d always done, and how it would always be.  You and him, an unbeatable team.

[obviouslygenuinely]

Free Resources For Writers & Creators

This is a quick post of free resources that may help fandom creators (or creators in general). I’m sure many of these have been shared before. However, it doesn’t hurt to spread the word. A few quick points:

As a professional writer, I think this post will cater mostly towards writers.

I’m also a freelance photographer, so digital photography/editing/art sources are included, too.

I chose not to use any affiliate links in my post. I don’t want to profit from this, and I’m not sure that’s allowed on Tumblr anyways. 

If I’ve listed a resource I haven’t used myself, I’ve made sure to state it. 

Masterlists and/or huge resource compilations are marked with asterisks.

Alright, here we go! I hope you all find this post helpful. Happy writing/creating! 

Research

All of these are free resources for research. I use most of them for my writing jobs because they are extremely credible. These are great for making accurate references in your fics/creations. 

1. ***Research Resources For Writers***

Writer’s Write has an enormous database of research resources for writers. They are divided into 20+ categories such as:

careers

historical research

crimes and forensics

religion

Each category contains 10+ resources like websites, articles, tips, databases, and so much more. It’s the most comprehensive and organized free research tool I use.

2. PubMed

My go-to source for citing medical studies. You’ll find 30 million citations related to numerous physical and mental health issues. 

3. BioMed Central

I don’t use this website as often, but I keep it in my bookmarks. It’s similar to PubMed - great for discovering current and former medical research. 

4. Drugs.com

If you need to name a medication and/or refer to medication side effects, Drugs.com is a straightforward resource. It’s easy to navigate and understand. 

It also has a tool that lists potential medication interactions. This is really useful for accurate descriptions of med combinations. 

5. Merck Manuals Consumer Version

Merck Manuals started out in 1899 as a medical reference guide for professionals. This consumer version is really comprehensive and updated regularly. It includes definitions, studies, and more. 

6. FindLaw

If you’re writing about legal topics, FindLaw is useful for learning about laws/procedures in reader-friendly language. Categories include:

accidents/injuries

criminal law

family law (divorce, custody, etc.)

Keep in mind that laws vary based on location! You’ll often find additional links to state-related laws within articles. I do recommend double-checking state/location-based legal resources for accuracy. 

7. APA Dictionary of Psychology

This psychology dictionary is provided by the American Psychological Association. It covers 90+ areas of psychology and 25,000+ terms/definitions. 

You’ll also find links to additional psychology databases, resources, and so on. The website is updated frequently to provide updated information.

8. U.S. Bureau Of Labor Statistics

If you’re writing about a character’s job/career in the United States, this is a great source for accuracy. For any job sector, you’ll find details about

education requirements

positions in the sector

average salary for positions

what the positions entail 

I imagine there are alternatives for other countries, too! 

9. Investopedia Financial Term Dictionary

My area of expertise is personal finance; all of my writing published under my name is in this niche. I still refer to Investopedia’s dictionary for help. It’s excellent for understanding/explaining financial terms in a way that your reader can understand. 

10. MedTerms Medical Dictionary

This is the medical version of Investopedia’s dictionary. I use this source less frequently, but I find that it’s accurate and helpful. There are many similar references online if you search for “medical glossaries” or “medical dictionaries”. 

11. Domain Authority Checker

I’m not sure if this one is too helpful for fic writers, but it’s one of my most used tools. Domain authority “a search engine ranking score developed by Moz that predicts how likely a website is to rank on search engine result pages (SERPs)”.

The Wikipedia page for domain authority (DA) explains it clearly and simply. To sum it up, websites with good DA scores are considered reliable and accurate. If I cite sources in my work. I always link to sources with good DA scores. 

Writing/Editing

This section is the most thorough one. All of these are completely free tools for writing and editing any type of content. I currently use or have used all of these at some point in my career. 

1. ***List Of Free And Open-Source Software Packages***

This Wikipedia page applies to multiple categories in my post. It’s a masterpost of free and open-source software for anything and everything. Software is divided up into categories and sub-categories. Some relevant examples include:

media

networking/Internet

image editing

file management

There are hundreds of free software links on the page, so you’ll need to do a bit of browsing. Start with the categories above to find software geared towards writers/creators. 

2. OpenOffice

This is a free alternative to Microsoft Office. I’ve used it for nine years and love it. OpenOffice software includes free applications for:

text documents

spreadsheets

presentations

drawing

templates

There are many more tools with OpenOffice that I haven’t used. If you write offline, I cannot recommend it enough. Tutorials are readily available online, and the software is pretty user-friendly. 

3. Evernote

I briefly used Evernote and found that it’s very user-friendly and helpful. Most of my colleagues use Evernote and recommend it for taking notes/staying organized.

(I’m personally not a fan of note-taking software or apps. My method is messy text documents with bullet point lists.)

4. Google Drive

This might seem like an obvious one, but Google Drive/Docs is my writing haven. It has the tools included with Microsoft Office and OpenOffice and then some. It’s great for collaborative writing/sharing documents, too. 

5. Grammarly

I use the Premium (paid) version of Grammarly, but I also used the free version for years. It’s helpful for detecting simple spelling, style, and grammatical errors. 

There are numerous ways to use it - desktop, copy/paste documents, and so on. I’m not a huge fan of how well it works with Google Docs, but they’re improving it/it’s moved out of beta mode. 

If you’re interested in the paid version - which I highly recommend -  wait to buy until a holiday pops up. They offer a major discount on the software for almost every holiday/special occasion. 

6. Plagiarism Detector

This website is handy for scanning for plagiarism. You can scan your own work to ensure uniqueness, too. My clients are big fans of this tool. 

(I no longer use this resource; I use a paid tool called Copyscape Premium. The low cost has a big return on investment for me.) 

7. TitleCase

The name says it all. It’s free and simple! I’ll be honest - I’m terrible with proper title case. You’d think after a decade of writing I’d nail it. However, I use this tool pretty often. 

8. Hemingway Editor

Hemingway Editor is an online and desktop editor. It’s excellent for scanning your writing to check for:

readability (a grade-level score is listed)

adverb usage

passive voice usage

complex phrase usage

estimated reading time

This tool is color-coded to make editing easy. For example, adverbs are highlighted in blue. I don’t use this as often as I used to, but it was essential for my early writing career. 

9. Polish My Writing

This tool is very straightforward. You paste your writing into the text box. Spelling errors, grammar suggestions, and style suggestions are highlighted in red, blue, and green. 

It’s great for double-checking your work alongside Grammarly or Hemingway. When using free editors, I recommend using at least two for higher accuracy. 

10. OneLook Reverse Dictionary And Thesaurus 

I’m going to use the definition directly from the website:

“This tool lets you describe a concept and get back a list of words and phrases related to that concept. Your description can be anything at all: a single word, a few words, or even a whole sentence. Type in your description and hit Enter (or select a word that shows up in the autocomplete preview) to see the related words.” 

To put it simply, you can use the reverse dictionary/thesaurus to find those words/thoughts that are on the tip of your tongue. Use the tool to:

find a word based on the word’s definition (i.e. search for “inability to feel pain”)

find synonyms and related concepts 

generate a list of category-specific words (i.e. search for “cat breeds”)

answer basic questions (i.e. search for “what is the capital of France?”)

The results can be hit or miss, but I usually find the information I’m looking for. It’s a solid resource any writer regardless of genre. 

11. Word Frequency Counter +  Phrase Frequency Counter

I cannot emphasize how much I love these tools. Repetition is the bane of a writer’s existence; it’s simply inevitable at times. 

These two tools count the number of times you use a single word or phrase in a text document. Just copy/paste your document, hit submit, and you’re all set! 

For the phrase frequency counter, you can scan for two-word to ten-word phrases. 

12. Thesaurus.com

This is another tool that might seem painfully obvious. Combined with the word frequency counter, it’s such an essential resource for me. 

It’s especially useful if you’re writing about the same topic multiple times (i.e. love, getting drunk, sex, etc.). I always use this combo of tools to ensure uniqueness. 

13. Lists Of Colors

Are you stumped when trying to come up with unique shades of blue? Is describing your character’s hair or skin color difficult? This Wikipedia page has you covered. It contains:

lists of colors (alphabetically)

lists of colors by shade

lists of Crayola crayon colors

lists of color palettes

I typically use this resource for product descriptions, but I also used it for creative writing many times. It’s a lifesaver for all things color-related.

Free Photos/Images

Tons of creators need free photos/images for numerous reasons. All of these sources provide 100% free photos, illustrations, etc. that have a Creative Commons Zero (CC0) license. This means there’s no copyright whatsoever on them. 

You can edit the images however you’d like, too. All of the images in my post are from the first source listed below. I made them black and white and added text.

(A lot of these sites have donate buttons for contributors. Donating a dollar here and there goes a long way!)

1. Unsplash

Unsplash is my personal favorite for high-resolution photos. It’s easy to navigate and has over 2,000,000 free images. Downloading an image is a one-click process, and you don’t need to create an account. 

2. Pixabay

Pixabay is my go-to site for illustrations and vector graphics (they have photos, too). There are 1.9 million free images to choose from. You don’t need an account to download images, but I recommend creating one. It’s free and with an account:

you don’t have to complete a CAPTCHA every time you download an image

you can access higher-quality/larger/etc. versions of images

I often use graphics from Pixabay to create overlays and masks for mixed media art pieces.

3. PxHere

I’ve never used PxHere, but one of my writing clients recommends it. It seems very similar to Pixabay, and the interface is user-friendly.

4. Pexels

In my limited experience, Pexels seems to focus on “artsy” stock images/content. I found great high-quality images the few times I’ve used it. 

5. Burst by Shopify

I haven’t used Burst, but it’s another free image site that a writing client recommended to me. It seems a little limited compared to the other sites, but it never hurts to add it to your toolbox!

Digital Art/Photo Editing/Etc.

This section seems brief, but the tools listed are pretty comprehensive and diverse. They are geared towards many creative needs/projects like:

Creating manips of people/etc.

Adding text to images.

Creating collages.

Digital illustration.

Advanced photo editing. 

There’s something for everyone. In my experience, finding your favorites among these will take some trial and error. 

1. Pixlr X and Pixlr E (app available)

Pixlr X and Pixlr E are both versatile free editing tools. Pixlr X is ideal for less experienced creators. Pixlr E is comparable to Adobe PhotoShop. 

I’ve used both software formats for personal and professional art projects.

The Pixlr app is handy for making collages, adding filters/overlays, adding text, and so on. I’ve used it for creating fanfiction collages and similar projects. It’s super easy to use. 

2. Remove Background by Pixlr

This is one of the easiest/fastest tools I’ve found for removing backgrounds from images. It’s perfect for creators who make manips using photos of people. 

It takes literal seconds to use. The tool automatically removes the background. If you spot any mistakes, you can refine the results with brush/erase tools. Then you download the cutout and you’re all set! 

Unfortunately, this feature isn’t available on the Pixlr app. There are a lot of smartphone apps for removing photo backgrounds.

3. GIMP

If you need a full-fledged Photoshop alternative, GIMP is excellent software.  It’s not an online tool like most I’ve suggested; you’ll need to download it to your computer. 

There’s quite a learning curve for it, unless you’re familiar with Photoshop already. Fortunately, the free video/text GIMP tutorials online are endless. I no longer use/need GIMP, but it’s a personal favorite of mine.

4. Paint.NET

Admittedly, I haven’t used Paint.NET, but my art/photography colleagues commonly mention it. It’s comparable to Photoshop and GIMP. It’s a web-based tool, and a quick Google search returns several tutorials for it. 

5. Photopea

This is more or less a Photoshop clone, but it’s free and web-based. If you watch Photoshop tutorials, you can usually follow the same steps in PhotoPea. 

I’ve only used it a few times; I have Photoshop so I don’t need it. Still, it’s very impressive - especially for a free tool.

6. PicsArt (app available)

PicsArt is a photo editing website and app; the app is much easier to use in my opinion. It’s a “fun” editing tool for photo manips, collages, and fan art in general. A lot of users post their art in the app, and I’ve noticed tons of cool fandom edits. 

Some of the features are Premium (AKA cost money), but I don’t think they’re worth the extra cost. PicsArt also has a digital drawing app. I haven’t personally used it but it may be worth checking out! 

7. Adobe Photoshop Express (app available)

(I’ll preface this by saying I have an Adobe subscription, so I have access to the “locked” features. I’ve used the free versions, but my memory of it is a bit hazy.)

Photoshop Express is a free web-based tool and smartphone app. The app is very user-friendly and can be used for detailed editing, adding filters, adding text, and so on. 

I’m less familiar with the browser version; I only use it for the cutout tool when I’m feeling lazy. It seems to be a good fit for quick edits - filters, cropping, and so on. 

8. Make PNG Transparent by Online PNG Tools

This tool is awesome for removing solid colored backgrounds. I use it to create graphics for mixed media art pieces. Here’s how it works:

upload an image

type the color your want to remove (name or hex code)

type the percentage of similar color tones you want to match (for example, 25% will remove your chosen color plus similar warm/cool tones)

the removed color is replaced with transparent pixels

If you want to make a JPG transparent, start with the website’s JPG to PNG Converter. There are a ton of useful free tools offered, but I haven’t tried out most of the others. 

Wrap Up

That’s all I’ve got for now! If I think of additional free tools, I’ll add them to this post. Feel free to reblog with your own recommendations or message me if you’d like me to add anything.

I hope my fellow creatives find these too

[wing-ed-thing]

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request: 

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert​ @narahanabi​

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: 

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed. 

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though. 

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

[ickymichi]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

a tendou satori x reader series.

✟ there’s always been the one rule every person who’s been in a band knows not to break, never mess around with your band mates. but Satori was sick of the groupies, sick of catching the bra’s and panties that were flung at him every night. he just wanted the one thing he couldn’t have.

✟ warnings: swearing, eventual smut, eventual angst(?), drug use, inappropriate themes, comedy.

✟ things to know: band au!, some timeskip careers mentioned, slow updates.

✟ if you’d like to be added to the taglist just send an ask! <3

✟ word count: 1.8k

✟ note: first actual chapter of this series! it’s nothing big but obviously i wanted to get something written for this series! but i hope you enjoy my dears! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to k1ttykawa 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

.:previous:.

.:next:.

.:masterlist:.

𝟎𝟎𝟐:. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

The bright lights and screams from the small crowd in the underground venue was what brings you back down from the high you’re always on whenever you sit on the small bouncing stool behind the drum set on stages every second or third night. You heard Semi thanking everyone for coming and whatever shit he always says. Once you seen him bow and Tendou go to pick up the collection of bra’s and panties thrown on stage, you raised a hand and threw one of the drumsticks into the crowd, your own way of saying goodbye before making your way offstage. Semi and Tendou’s tall frames following behind, the same order as always.

The sweat was pouring out of you, tonight being more of a wilder one than the usual calm sets you’ve been having in bars or party’s recently. they were easy money, but they got boring after just a few hours. so all three of you were in desperate need of a night like tonight.

Turning the corner of the small, dark corridor to your dressing room for tonight you were met with the stench of weed, 3 different girls on the beat up leather couch, a rolled joint in one of the girls hands and white lines on a tray to the others left. Like always, you went straight to the showers to get the scent of sweat and fake smoke of you.

You really don’t know when but the cropped black tank top you had on was ripped down one side but your usual headband you sported every show was missing and it now became you new priority to track it down. “Satori! Where the fuck is my headband?” you stomped back out to see the wanted man desperately trying to pull the tight leather pants down his lanky legs. His head was whipped up to at the sound of your annoyed voice and then quickly darted his eyes over to the blonde that had previously rolled the joints and was now fawning over semi and his revealed tattoos. “oi” was all you muttered out behind her and holding out your empty hand—also noting some of your rings were gone. She turned her head to you with a scowl covering her features, which also revealed your missing accessory that caused your distress. “that’s her bandana and she’s quite obviously looking for it back,” Tendou quipped in making every one bar the girl laugh. After time, she untied it from the back and forcefully placed it back in your hand. Dramatically you held your arm, acting as if she pained you, tendou again laughing with you.

Finally you were able to hop into the shower and quickly get your self freshened and rub the accesses makeup off your eyes that was already smudged from your constant wiping, trying to stop the sweat dripping from your hairline.

“(y/n)!! please help me out of these, semisemi just keeps fucking laughing!” the peace and quiet you had was quickly interrupted by Tendou’s loud whining. “how the fuck am I not supposed to laugh when your walking around with them swinging around your ankles and your dick hanging out?” “what, Its out?!”

The large door separating the bathroom from the connected dressing room swung open and revealed Satori with his leathers pooled at his ankles and— surprising his dick not actually ‘hanging out’. “please help me sugartits, they’re fucking stuck even with my skinny ankles,” he hopped onto the counter and held his legs up for you to guide them off him. “well for starters, take your fucking shoes off!, and also I swear i saw these in the women’s section of some online store?” jokingly you shouted at him and moved to untie the doc martin’s around his feet. “yeah? You probably did, stole them from that chick that wouldn’t stop hanging off me last month,” both of you laughing at his silliness and falling into a comfortable silence.

The only noise was the voices off the others in the separate room and a recognisable Mötley Crüe song shaking the floor from the stage.

“what you think of tonight then?” the silence being broken by Satori like usual. “uhhh, it was definitely something but yeah, it was fun. Its nice to have a night like that every now and then, specially since we’ve just been in bars doing the same covers for the past two weeks. What about you huh?” he hummed, a noise of agreement showing he was listening, a habit you grew to learn. “I guess it was good fun yeah, although I didn’t appreciate nearly getting hit with a dildo within the first two songs. But I agree, it’s nice to do our own shit and not covers in a bar with a bunch of middle age boring shits. I think we’ve another show that’ll probably be like this again on Saturday.”

Saturday, today was Thursday so you’ve a nice day or two to just lie around, the other probably filled with travelling and setting up.

After about 10 minutes you had unlaced both his boots and chucked them onto the floor and not too long later his ‘borrowed’ pants joined them. “thanks chicken, lifesaver as always,” he pulled you into an embrace with one arm before leaving to find his spare clothes in the other room. He did always have the weirdest nicknames.

The night bled into the early hours of the morning, Semi and Tendou both getting their share of the girls there while you kicked your feet up, sparking up a conversation and passing the joints with your friend Taichi who was also your ‘manager’, he wasn’t really he just acted like it when venues would ask important questions and tagged along for the free show and nights at different clubs.

He was also the one who suggested you start moving to the motel down the street for the night before the venue boots you all out. Quickly you agreed, not fancying seeing any more glimpses of your friends and strangers body parts. Obviously the girls whined to the boys, asking if they could come, saying it’s dangerous for girls to walk home alone at night, “sorry ladies, but we’ll be sharing a bed tonight and I don’t fancy getting an unwanted facial on a Thursday night,” you butted into their persuasive conversation by wrapping an arm around the boys from the back of the couch and giving a friendly smile.

By the time you all got your equipment packed away and into the van it was nearing 4:30 in the morning and you, quite literally we’re going to fall into the bed. It wasn’t the nicest of places but you were just spending tonight and the next two there, unless you decided to go out after the shows and find some rando’s condo to spend the night in. All three of you pushed your way into the small room trying to get the edges of the double bed. And it wasn’t easy trying to squeeze through two 6’2 lean men, resulting in you again stuck in the middle of them staring at the blank roof, desperately waiting for the sun to rise so you could find some place to get food and away from the mess of limbs under the covers.

When you did wake up it felt like you’d only slept for two hours, when in reality it had been about 10. The afternoon sun melting through the old curtains and falling into your pillow. As you moved to see what had finally woke you from the deep sleep you saw Semi at the small table, his guitar resting on his knees and his worn, nimble fingers scribbling words on his notebook he kept for when lyrics would come to him.

“mornin’ early bird,” all you could let out was a groan, your mind still coming to its senses. “there’s food n’ shit there Satori went out to get it, we was the first up, surprisingly,” he breathed out the last remark before moving to pick up the red pencil and get back to writing lyrics before they left his head.

The food that Tendou got was still warm so he must’ve of been up long before you anyway. “where is he?” “beats me, probably wandering round like always,” quickly he responded and took the pic from between his teeth and started strumming a tune while humming, what you were guessing, was the lyrics on the page.

Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you pulled your phone from where it was connected to the wall by the charger and found Satori’s contact and pressed the call icon, moving away from the sound of Eita and his guitar you went to go outside and sit on the bench outside your rooms window.

“hello, hello,” his ever cheerful voice filled the speakers of your phone that was wedged between your shoulder and ear. “hey, I was just calling to see where you are that’s all,” you piped up when he went quiet, tutting when you realised you were out of cigarettes. “oh you know, just out sightseeing ‘tis all,” “cool cool, well i’m going to the store now you need anything?” he hummed into the phone, indicating that he was thinking of something he needed. “just cigs I guess and get me that drink I like while there, i’ll pay you later,” bidding him goodbye as the small shop on the corner came into view you slipped your phone into your sweatpants pocket and walked to the back where they kept the energy drinks.

Exiting the shop with everything you needed you walked to make your way back till you saw a familiar head of red locks across the street and quickly, but quietly made your way to his figure.

Sneaking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his ribs press into your arms, something you’ve noted recently. He sucked air into his lungs and jumped slightly before laughing with you. “here you go your highness,” was how you greeted him and chucked him his requested items. “thanks muffincake, i’ll pay you back later I swear,” you scoffed and shook his offer off, suggesting you stroll around the city until Semi called either of you to ‘get your sorry asses back to the room’.

Your stroll progressed into a very long walk and by the time Satori suggested you head back with an arm around your shoulder it was already dark, the night life staring to come out of hiding. eyeing a club across the street you thought might be a good shout to visit in case you three got bored tonight, making a mental note of its location.

“Didn’t Semisemi say we need to go over the set list again cause, someone, messed up last night,” a sing-song voice dragged you out of your club browsing and brought a scowl to your face. “excuse me, you’re the one who told me we were doing ‘nasty’ after the interlude, prick,” he pulled his chin up and started to ‘think’ about your accusation before loudly dubbing it false; “nope, I don’t recall doing such a thing. I could never, but if it boots your already sky high ego then, of course I did my dearest apologies baby cakes,” “do you ever shut up,” “when i’m face first in pus-” “Don’t even!”

t a g l i s t: @evan-rose @elianetsantana @weebintheinternet @kuroos-roosterhead

please lmk if i missed you if your not there! <3

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

reid’s anatomy

summary: spencer gets a gunshot wound while working in the field and gets transported to the hospital you work in as a 4th year resident. 

word count: 2,325                                                                                             reading time aprox: 9 mins

masterlist

Gurneys, lights, flying commands, and patients. The trauma room was my favorite place to be, other than the OR of course, it felt like a second home. But nothing compared to the home I had when I laid in Spencer’s arms. 

I was currently working in the trauma room, triaging the patients as I did my rounds. I dismissed a few individuals that had minor injuries, while discovering various accidents that required solutions as small as stitching up a patient to booking an OR for an emergent surgery. 

“Honey can you move your toes for me please?”

In front of me lay my latest patient, a 5 year old boy who had been pushed off of a swing set and had happened to land on his ankle. His cheeks were painted red from the crying he had previously done, a thumb cemented into his mouth as he continued to suck on it for comfort. His mother sat beside him, panic evident in her eyes, although she kept an amiable expression to reassure her son on his well being. 

The boy shook his head frantically, earning a break in composure from the mother. She reached out and folded her hand over her son’s and held on tight to it, with a tight-lipped smile on her face. 

“You’re going to be okay Timothee, mommy’s right here sweetie”. The mother squeezed her son’s hands continuously, looking to me for answers.

“Your son- well Timothee here seems to have sprained his ankle” I explained in layman's terms, lifting up the boys ankle to locate where the injury occurred.  “The issue here is that he seems to have an eversion ankle sprain and has fractured his deltoid ligament, which is more uncommon than a inversion ankle sprain, since the deltoid ligament is close to impossible to fracture”. 

As I finished my description, the mother returned her attention to her son, massaging his head to console him. “We-well it’s just a sprained ankle right? It can heal. My husband has had multiple sprained ankles from how much of a klutz he is” She joked in attempt to lighten the mood. Despite her attempts, there was more news to deliver.

“I wish it was much more simpler than that” I sighed, motioning for the on-call nurse to come over. “Due to Timothee’s young age, my biggest concerns are the development of his bones, considering the fracture he had suffered and that the nerves responsible for motor skills in his legs might have been severed. In most adult cases, the individual is able to recover because the durability of the bone had been fully realized from age. But, Timothee here is at risk of deformation of his osseous matter” I doefully confessed, a small pit forming in my stomach while delivering his diagnosis. 

As the mother’s face dropped, I turned to the nurse telling her to call Neuro and Peds, then asked her to file the paperwork. I looked back at the small family with a sigh, placing his chart at the end of the bed. 

It was moments like these that make me envision the life I’m going to have with Spencer if we ever decided to have children together. Despite our young age, I couldn’t help up configure an idealistic future than only composed of me, Spencer, and 2 or 3 little children running around us in glee. 

“The nurse will be back with the pape-” 

I was cut off by sirens and a magnitude of shrilling voices shouting commands. These were the indications of an incoming trauma. I turned around to peak for a second with the possibility of wanting to check on another case, but the interns and 2nd year residents had beat me to it. 

My focus remained on the child in front of me, checking his vitals from time to time, while eavesdropping on the commotion behind me. 

“We’ve got a caucasian ma...federal...with a GSW in the thoracic cavity, with intercostal tears”. Most of the sentence was muffled by the loud wheels of the crash cart, residents fumbling around, and the attendings yelling orders at the scene. I turned around to witness the chaotic scene, only to be meet with heads full of hair and some that didn’t actually have hair at all. 

Geez, I wouldn’t want to be the guy with the GSW to his chest

In emergent surgery, GSW’s were the most lethal in the clinic as most of the time the patient is either too late or the bullet had caused multiple complications in the patient, causing distress in the body. The tricky thing about GSWs were that they were different every time, it was almost always a different procedure depending on the location. 

I nodded goodbye to the perturbed mother, earning a tight lipped smile and a nod back. I turned to walk towards the nurses station when suddenly I was paged to trauma room 3. I rushed over to the area, sanitizing my hands before walking in. A privacy drape hung from the lower abdomen of the individual, with nurses and residents scrambling to keep his vitals stabilized.   

I faced the trauma nurse as she explained the patients situation. “We’ve got a caucasian male, seems to be 25-35 with a GSW in his thoracic cavity with no exit wound, the bullet is possibly lodged in the pericardial cavity” She spoke in haste. 

“Push 10 of Norepinephrine and call Cardio” I stressed, rushing out of the room to find another resident to scrub into the surgery as I wasn’t finished with my rounds yet. 

On my way around the nurse’s desk I noticed a familiar face that sat glum and slumped over in his chair, well it was more like a familiar group of faces. My steps slowed in order to get a better view to confirm my suspicions, then shuffled over to determine what the occasion was. 

“Hey Morgan-hey guys” I furrowed my eyebrows at the group, my worry peaked at the numerous melancholy expression that they wore on their faces. Despite my observations, there was one face I noticed was missing from the ensemble. 

Spencer. 

A chill ran up my arm, which was usually an indication of something wrong. In spite of the unfavorable pit in my stomach, I was at my workplace where everything usually puts me on edge, so I pushed it aside. 

“Where’s Spenc-” 

My words faded out into an uncomfortable silence when Morgan lifted his head to face me and in his eyes were the deepest of browns, anguish pooled in his irises, similar to the look I gave to the mother of the patient I was treating previously. I glanced at the rest of the team, who wore a identical stares. 

My stomach had churned and twisted into knots. The chill that had ran up my arm traveled to my legs, all the way to the tips of my toes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, I could feel my heart still and my fingers twitch. The overhead lights of the clinic became overwhelmingly bright and a nauseating sensation began crawling up my throat. 

“Y/N-” Morgan began as I stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it in between his rough and sweaty palms, but I tensed in the midst of it, while adrenaline ran up my veins. 

“Reid, he’s...we-we were workin- I...he’s” 

Despite his attempts at an explanation, he wasn’t able to complete any of his phrases as I yanked my hand out of his grasp and bolted towards the trauma room. I heard my name being called in the background, although it became a voice of a phantom as my surroundings became impaired with the sounds of my heartbeat, the loud thuds my feet made as I raced towards the room, and the anxious thoughts that flooded my mind. 

I pushed into the room, only to see a bed was missing. I bee lined to where the residents were, pivoting around the various carts that decorated the room. “Where’s that patient with the GSW in his thoracic cavity? What resident was assigned on his case? What was his name?”. The words spewed out of my lips like a waterfall, earning alarmed looks from the residents. 

“Um, he was transported to OR 3″ One of them explained with naive looks on their faces. 

“Yeah, they’re in surgery right now with Dr. Burke and Dr. Montgomery” Another one added. 

“What’s the patient’s name? Do you remember?” I responded, prying them of all the information they knew. The residents peered at each other dumbfoundedly, looking at each other for answers as if they were taking their MLE exams again. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, no offense but you’re not on this case” One of the residents added with a condescending voice. 

“Dr. Mallory, if you don’t answer me in the matter of 10 seconds, I swear I will go to your senior resident and have you be doing scut for the rest of your medical career” I retorted. Fear was evident in all their eyes, I knew my eyes were brimming with multiple emotions, condensing into nothing but a fiery and aggressive tone.  

“Sp-spencer Reid, Ma’am” A quiet voice spoke up in the group. I nodded a small thank you to the individual and ran to the OR where they held Spencer. 

When I got into the prep room, I grabbed a face mask and entered the OR, witnessing a man’s body, the love of my life under heavy anesthesia and tubes wired up to his chest. Before I could speak, the attending spoke up and questioned me of my presence. 

“I-i was wondering if I could scrub in sir” I replied. “I-I, um, heard that there was in upc...incoming trauma for a GSW and I was wondering if I could scrub in” I repeated. 

“You already said that Dr. Y/L/N” 

“I understand sir, but I-” 

The attending than turned around exposing the sight of Spencer’s chest being retracted open. My entire body ached at the sight, the lifelessness of his body creating an image in my head that couldn’t compare to the images Spencer would see of his victims. I cringed and turned away, tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I knew I couldn’t let myself go, especially if I wanted to be included in Spencer’s operation. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, with all respect, I know you’re one of the best residents we have in this hospital and I know you’re a phenomenal doctor” The attending explained, letting one of the other senior residents take over for a moment. “But, I also know who this is laying on my table. For this case, you’re not his doctor, you’re family, and I need you to trust that I am able to do my job, as you do yours” He concluded, signaling to one of the nurses to take me out of the OR. 

I nodded hesitantly, following the nurse out of the room, my eyes still locked on the individual that lay on the table. After the nurse had went back inside, I sat on the ground with my hands on my lap, staring at the abyss of the hallway. 

Our future depends on if a single man can maneuver his scalpel with enough wisdom and efficiency. The father of my future children lay on the cold metal table, where I used to find comfort and power in when saving someone else’s loved one. Who knew there would be a time where the roles were switched. 

Who knew that no matter how many years you’ve trained, how many books you’ve read, and the degrees you’ve obtained to save people’s lives, you could still be powerless against what life throws at you. The worst part is the irony that comes with tragedies. I spent a quarter of my life learning how to save people, yet I sit here purposeless when someone that I live for is struggling to stay alive. How malicious is that. 

Tears began streaming down my cheeks, although my expression hasn’t changed. The wetness that enveloped half of my face was the only thing that reminded me of the reality that I was in, keeping my consciousness grounded momentarily. 

I swear my heart pauses, everytime I hear a change in the monitor that indicated Spencer’s vitals or a command that the attending would spew out to the helping resident. I was completely fixated on everything that was happening in the room adjacent to me, disregarding the entire atmosphere that lay in my vision. 

It wasn’t until large legs halted in front of where I was crouched down. I didn’t bother looking up as my thoughts clouded my sensibility. The figure then sat down to my level, I could feel the individual’s eyes boring at my blank visage. I felt a large arm pull me closer to the individual, only this time I realized it was Morgan who had come to console me. 

Awaiting a pursuance of some sort of speech that’s supposed to bring me clarity or amenity. But to my dismay, only the loud presence of silence filled the gap of our exchange. That’s when my emotions began to seep into my skin, filling my heart with heavy matter, making it close to impossible to keep up my facade. 

A whimper escaped my lips while I laid on Morgan’s shoulder for the time being, only for the rest of my somber to follow. I cried in defeat, holding onto the clutches of Morgan’s shirt as he gripped onto the back of my head, massaging it in the process. 

I felt droplets hit the top of my head and a wetness forming rapidly. Weak sniffles emitted from the man above me, betraying his collected composure. We both sat here together with heavy hearts, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. 

We both sat in silence waiting to see if his colleague was alive and if my everything was still breathing. 

-

Pt. 2

A/N:

Pt. 2 coming soon! most likely tomorrow. I was going to write the whole thing today, but frankly, I just need a fresh mind.  

Part 2 out now

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - THREE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The team goes on a mission. You meet someone who might expose you. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :) Sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been sad. Blegh. 

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Over the few days that follow, you become increasingly paranoid. It’s your own fault, because you shouldn’t have lied to the people that have welcomed you into their homes with open arms, but lying is a survival skill that you were taught many years ago, and old habits die hard. You become shadowy, avoid team members in the hallways and common areas of the penthouse floor you all share, and stay in your room as much as possible without alarming anyone. Of course Natasha knows something is up, but Steve doesn’t, and he waves off her concern as you simply ‘needing more time to adjust, Nat’. You watch their body language during breakfast – one of two meals a day you simply cannot get out of without causing anyone’s alarm bells to start ringing – and engage in light conversation wherever possible to keep them out of your hair.

Guilt gnaws at your insides when you find yourself wandering the deserted wrap-around balcony at nearly 3 a.m., brain searching for a clue to any bad things that might happen. If any one of them figures out you’re ex-hydra you’re done for, that much you know, but the man with golden hair and twinkling azure eyes might just be your ticket to safety.

The thought alone sickens you, because you vowed never to mess with someone’s feelings to get what you need ever again. It’s a twisted thought, but the vines of its root wrap themselves around the stem of your brain nonetheless.

A month after first moving in, you’ve already figured out their routines. Steve’s the early riser of the bunch, getting up every morning at 6:30 a..m. sharp to go on a run around the city. On rare occasions, he manages to convince Sam to come along with him, but more often than not, he remains in his bed until at least 10 o’clock, when Steve’s already come back to shower and get dressed for the day. Tony and Bruce are in the lab 24/7, both of them constantly bickering about artificial intelligence and microbiology among other matters you can’t even begin to understand. As a result, you don’t see them around too often, a notion you don’t particularly mind. Clint left to be with his family two weeks ago and hasn’t been back since, and Natasha leaves all the time, sometimes for days at a time. You don’t dare to ask anyone where she goes when she disappears, but nobody seems surprised to find her seat at the dining table empty again.

It’s a gloomy day when you wake up to find the entire place void of all life. Not even Steve, who’s adamant about his morning coffee, is there to grace you with his presence when you walk into the kitchen that Saturday morning. The counter is clean, no empty coffee cups, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal or bread crumbs to indicate anyone’s eaten yet, and all of the chairs are still perfectly lined against the table.

Your pulse involuntarily quickens to an uncomfortable pace, and you bite the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood is heavy on your tongue. With quick steps, you walk towards the common room, footsteps loud in your ears when you consider where they might be. As expected, there’s nobody there. The TV is switched off, there are no dents in the heavy fabric of the couch from where Steve usually sits, and again, no empty cups or bowls can be found on the coffee table. You have the jitters when you finally get to the library, which is again void of all life.

Black socks covered in small holes squeak across the wooden floors when you walk around the room. It’s not surprising to see the library vacant. You’re sure Avengers have more pressing matters to tend to than reading books on any given day, but it was your last hope nonetheless. With your head tilted to the side, you focus on scanning the titles that line the walls. You follow every shelf in the room until your eye finally catches something. You take the book with a sigh, flip through its tattered pages, and wonder for a moment which one of the Avengers has read the crap out of Pride and Prejudice. Definitely not Sam, judging by his internal monologue. That guy doesn’t appear to have an ounce of romanticism inside him.  

 “They’re out,” a gentle voice suddenly says behind you, “Steve didn’t want to wake you up this morning to tell you.”

You slap your hand over your heart in surprise, and inhale sharply, “Jesus Christ, doc. You scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, “Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Are they on a mission?” you ask, feeling your heart jump in your chest like a skippy ball.

“Yeah, they should be back in a few days. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You swallow thickly, noticing all of a sudden how your mouth is dry like sandpaper, “you just spooked me, that’s all. What kind of mission is it?”

“Intel gathering, in an out. That’s why I didn’t come. They only bring me when they need the green guy,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you reply slowly, “how’s he holding up?”

“Asleep,” Bruce smiles, then clears his throat, “for now, anyway. Would you like to get some breakfast?”

You follow Bruce through the rain, which started to gust from the grey sky just as you were getting dressed. You’d rather have said no, but you knew you couldn’t; it wouldn’t be polite to decline his offer. Besides, he’s oblivious, and for whatever reason, he trusts you. When he bites into his chocolate croissant, you know why – Steve’s let you in. This notion once more confirms the thoughts that have been occupying your mind for the last week; Steve is your one-way ticket to inclusivity.

You shudder at the thought and fake a smile before taking a large sip of coffee. The cafe is small, mostly empty, and your seat by the window gives you a perfect view of pedestrians struggling in the howling, icy wind. One year ago, you could never have imagined yourself sitting in a café with a cup of coffee clutched between your fingers, chatting with someone who you could potentially call a friend. The idea alone of being able to enjoy a warm mug filled with freshly brewed coffee would’ve sounded preposterous to you.

There was no warmth with HYDRA. Only cold.

It takes the team three days to return from their mission. Three long days, during which you spend most of your time with Bruce in his lab, perched on a desk-chair with a book in your hands while he works on – actually, you have no idea what he’s working on. You quickly grow to become fond of him, because he doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence between you with empty words. His thoughts are coherent, focused on his project, and the lingo is too advanced for you to understand, which makes it easy to drown out. His inner monologue is quiet, except for a few angry words from the Hulk when Bruce becomes frustrated with his work, but that only happened on day two, and only for ten minutes.

Steve smells like gun powder and sweat when he hugs you softly against his chest after exiting the Quinjet. Natasha waves at you, and the smile that dons her dirt-caked face surprises you, but you return it nonetheless. Sam even ruffles your hair, causes a sound to escape your throat that you haven’t heard yourself make in over a decade; a strange combination of a snort and a chuckle that sounds like music to your own ears. Your heart pounds again, but in a good way this time, because for a small moment in time, you’ve managed to put the guilt on the back-burner. The roaring engine behind you falls silent at last, and nobody else visibly exits the plane before you make it inside.  

“You held up okay?” Steve asks as he follows you back inside the building.

You nod in response and shove your hands deep inside the pockets of your hoodie, “I’ve been helping Bruce with his research.”

“Oh, did you? How’s it coming?” he asks.

His eyes sparkle like two tiny stars even through the exhaustion that nearly forces them shut every time he blinks. He’s exhausted, you can tell, and you have to bite your tongue before you make a comment about the state he’s in.

“I mostly sat there while he did all the thinking. Turns out computer science isn’t really my thing after all.”

Steve fights a yawn that threatens to overcome him, and nods, “yeah, I feel you. I can barely get the damn things to start. I’ve given up on technology.”

He turns back to face you when he’s come to a halt in front of his room.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I went,” he tells you, meaning it as he says it, “we kinda left in a hurry, and you were still sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “I understand.”

He quickly retreats after that, leaving you once again with nothing to do. You go back to your room to grab the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from your nightstand and, after plopping down on your bed, flip to the page where you last left off. You read for a while, before the idea to make some tea with warm milk and honey pops into your head, and you skip along the hallway to the kitchen with the book securely wrapped in your arms.

You’re surprised to hear Steve’s voice when you enter the common area, and a smile appears on his face the second his eyes fall on you. You raise one arm to wave at him, but a loud gasp and a large thud followed by the sound of breaking glass have you freezing on the spot before you can open your mouth to greet him at all.

Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, causing your neck to twist and crack painfully. Red, glowing eyes meet your large ones when you dare to look up at whoever made the noise, and the book in your hands falls to the ground with a loud bang that startles everyone in the room. You stumble backwards when you can feel the woman standing before you deep inside of your head, and you nearly trip over the rug when you instinctly try to get away from her. Frantically, you scramble to stop her from seeing more than she’s already seen. Still, by the time you manage to build up a mental barrier to keep her out of your head, it’s already too late.

You haven’t seen her before, and you can’t remember for the life of you if the image of her has popped up in any of the Avengers’ heads. Your brain is mushy, images hazy as you try to focus on keeping the woman from digging around deeper. You can see distant memories of your time with HYDRA flash before her eyes, and the images blur with the present in a spasm that makes your eyes water.

Wanda Maximoff lets out a shrill, piercing shriek, one that chills everyone to the bone. Thor, who you didn’t even know was there, is by her side before she can collapse onto the cold, hard floor, and Steve jumps up from his chair before you have time to register his movements. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen, fingers digging painfully in your tender flesh when he pulls you away from the scene. Sympathy fills Sam’s dark brown eyes when you turn back around to look at him, and guilt roils in your stomach when the redhead sinks to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Your arms hang limply to your side when you watch Steve pace back and forth around his room. You’re waiting for him to yell at you, to tell you to get the fuck out of the compound and never return, but he remains awfully quiet. His silence confuses and unnerves you simultaneously.

His eyes, swimming with unimaginable depth, find your face while the scent of his cologne and pure testosterone invades your nostrils. Pressure clamps down on your chest, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to shiver. Never in your entire life have you wanted to read someone’s mind more. 

“Are you alright?” your head cocks to the side, mouth twitching while you try to find words. 

You nearly gave that woman an aneurysm, and he’s asking you if you’re okay?

“Yes,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Wanda is telepathic,” Steve says, “she has trouble controlling what she sees sometimes.” 

“Like I said, I’m so so-” 

A soft exhale leaves your lips when Steve’s hands find their way to your shoulders, and your voice dies down in your throat when he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. Calloused fingertips penetrate the thin material of your t-shirt, and the warmth of his hands creates a buzzing sensation just beneath your skin. 

“She was in Europe, scouting the location of the mission with Rhodey. She’s been in Eastern Europe for a while, that’s why you haven’t seen her. I should’ve told you about her.”

“Will she be okay?” you ask. You hardly recognize your own voice. 

“Sam’s got her. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.” 

You don’t know how to respond. You crave a cigarette all of a sudden, even though you don’t smoke. Alcohol then, maybe, to numb down the prickling sensation of firing synapses and goosebumps that line your bare arms. Yeah, a good couple of shots of whiskey will do the trick. Not vodka though, you hate that stuff. 

You bite your bow-shaped lips and inhale deeply. Steve is so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. It’s wrong, being so near him after what just happened. You’re on thin ice. It won’t be long before the entire team, undoubtedly informed by what Wanda just saw, comes barging into Steve’s room, ready to drag you away to prison or worse, put a bullet through your skull. You deserve it, you think, for what you used to do. For who you used to be. You almost want somebody to call you out on your shit, because then at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. 

But seconds turn into minutes, and nobody comes. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart, and you realize when he looks at you with sympathy and sincerity that you hate yourself for lying. It’s an ironic realization, because lying is like second nature to you. HYDRA spent so much time ingraining it into your brain that it’s become almost like a second language, a means of communication that flows so naturally that you don’t even have an accent anymore. It’s brought you many things, and ruined even more people.

Your hands are going numb from how hard you’re clenching them into fists. Steve’s thumbs are rubbing small circles on your shoulders, and it takes all of your effort not to shake them off. You’re disgusted with yourself, bile threatening to rise to the back of your throat while the sensation of his warm fingers on you is the only thing left for you to feel. The world is dark and cold, but the heat radiating from Steve’s hands is just enough to stop you from getting frostbite. The concern is evident on his face, from the deep crease between his brows to the thin line of his lips; he’s worried about you, someone he doesn’t even know. Someone he would kill if he’d met you under any other circumstances.

You want to go home, you think to yourself, but as soon as the thought appears do you smack it down with your fist. You don’t have a home, you scold yourself, just like the doctors would tell you when you cried and screamed on the dingey operating table in the early days, when they didn’t control you yet. When they still wore their special masks to stop you from controlling their minds so they could freely fuck with yours.

It’s an icy reality, one that rattles you to your core every time it makes an appearance. Steve’s eyes are still scanning your face, which is twisted and contorted into a painful scowl before you even realize what’s happening.

An inexplicable panic washes over you, heart jackhammering in your chest while your cheeks turn a sickly shade of pink. A bead of sweat rolls down your back, followed by cold shivers that envelop your skin in ice. The scent of laundry detergent and cologne hits you like a truck, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gagging.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice melting and morphing into the sound of rain slamming against the window like gunfire.

“My head,” you cry out in a desperate whimper, “it hurts.”

Steve forces your body down onto his bed, and while you begin to writhe in pain that causes white spots to dance in front of your eyes, he closes the curtains to keep the light from coming in. His mother had head aches all the time, and she’d be in bed for days on end if they got bad enough. He remembers her clear as day, lying in bed with an empty bucket next to her on the floor in the dark, because the light hurt so bad it would make her vomit sometimes. He’d tiptoe around the house because the sound of his feet creaking across the floorboards would pain her. He recognizes her in you, lying on his bed with your hands clutching the sides of your head.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he says, quieting his voice, the incident with Wanda long forgotten as instinct takes over.  

Tears blur your vision at this point, and it takes every ounce of focus that you have left to keep yourself from screaming out in pain. Aspirin won’t help, but you don’t possess the capability to tell him not to bother. You’ve experienced this type of pain before, and have endured it without medicine each time. Many times actually; while you were forced to extract information from the people taken and captured by HYDRA with whatever means necessary. This time however, it’s come as a surprise and it’s caught you completely off-guard, although you suspect Wanda’s poking and prodding has something to do with it.

With all the strength you have left, you manage to pull the covers over your head, engulfing yourself in darkness and warmth to drown out your senses. The sudden darkness is disorienting, but you welcome it with open arms. Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it, and heads for the door without uttering another word.

All you hear when Steve exits the room is the sound of your former victims crying out in despair.

NEXT CHAPTER.

TAGLIST:

@foxyjwls007​ @littlegasps​ @hurricane-abigail​ @idk123906​ @ bubblicious-trashcan @wooya1224

[sugarcomatosed]

i love your stories so much!! and was wondering if you can give some writing tips perhaps? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Breaking this up into sections for you + putting it under a cut cause I went overboard. 😅

General Writing Tips

These work for both academic and creative writing.

Make an outline.

It doesn't have to be a formal one, but having at least a general idea of the scenes you want to include is helpful. If I know my fic is going to be a longer one (like Don't Hesitate was and my current WIP is), I break down the larger story beats i want to hit on a piece of paper or my iPad.

It's good to know what you're planning to do, in a any piece I usually have a single specific scene I want to do and depending on what it is, I might either just do the scene I want to or turn into something longer.

Draft, draft, draft.

I cannot stress the importance of going through and reviewing your work. This is a big part of any sort of writing.

Your first idea isn't always your best idea. As you work on a piece you might find your original idea is holding you back, focus shifts! Don't be afraid to let your work change as you go. It's not always easy to let go of your original idea but if you find it's not working, you have to let it change. Sections will need to be rewritten, things have to be readjusted to fit with later sections. Reread for clarity while you're drafting and look to see if this makes sense to you, or reads well to you. If you can't follow it and you wrote it, chances are your reader can't either. Did you use the same phrase again and again? Find and search it on your doc to double check.

Sometimes you have to cut things you really like because they just don't contribute to the fic anymore. Save those bits and use them somewhere else!In a lot of my longer pieces I will write a paragraph, realize that's not where it should go and cut/paste it into another part of the doc because the pacing/scene doesn't make sense where I had it originally, but it works somewhere else.

If you're stuck, skip around, come back and then stitch the bits you have written together.

Don't Focus on a Word Count

This might be controversial, but I'm of the opinion just because something is longer does not make it better. Some works are short, and that's okay! I very rarely try to aim for a specific count of words unless it's for a prompt exchange or a personal challenge. I write till I feel the piece is done. Some stories require more words, some require less.

Don't Hesitate is a great example of this again, because all I wanted to do was a bittersweet first kiss fic, but jumping write into the kiss wouldn't get the full effect I wanted. Meanwhile, with Old Habits all I wanted to do was write dumb comedic kisses, we didn't need a 2k preamble.

Get Someone You Trust to Edit

My go to editor for the past six years or so is one of my good friends. She has edited everything from college papers to my fics for me before I post them to read for clarity, find any funky phrases or misspelled words I missed, and I do the same for her when she asks! A fresh set of eyes makes a world of a difference. Find someone to trade fics with or ask a friend! They might have good suggestions you never thought of, or be able to tell what you were going for when you don't even know yourself.

I also rely on my friends a lot to brainstorm and talk my ideas out before I start because it helps me think and figure out what I need. It's super common for me to text someone and say "im gonna spitball at you, that okay?" and then spend twenty minutes chatting through my ideas.

Have Reference Material

For my 13sar fics, I regularly go back and review/screenshot videos of the dialogue to make sure I am staying consistent with story events, character nuance and small details. You don't have to go crazy, but it is really helpful to have your source material to go back to and check yourself against. In non creative writing I always had a pile of papers highlighted with my own notes on the margins.

Take Breaks/Pace Yourself

Know your own limits, and if you are working and working on something and it's not coming out leave it alone and come back to it. I'm really bad at this personally because when I get an idea in my head I want to see it through but sometimes you gotta step back! It's not healthy to keep working on things and overwork yourself. Stretch, get up go for a walk.

Write What You Want to Write

Don't focus on what people want to read. Focus on what you like. Find a topic, a scene, anything that you are passionate about and the rest will follow. The only time I write fic for other people is when I am writing for a friend. Even prompt requests I only take open ended ones, if I am not interested in writing it it's not gonna happen. I know it's super hard and I get really anxious sometimes about letting people down now, or worrying people won't like something but then I step back and remind myself this is a hobby and I'm doing it for fun.

Play to Your Strengths

You shouldn't try to write like me, you should try to write like yourself. Find what skills you have and use them to your advantage!

I can't give you a step by step list to write like me, because nobody in the world has my background! We're all unique. Everything I've listed so far I know because I'm not a beginner anymore! I'm in my twenties and have come from a strong academic writing background.

I took on an intensive course load in high school, and then went onto college for a sociology degree. I very rarely had test based finals and at the end of each semester would have five 10-15 page papers to submit. Straight up some of my skills come from having read and studied the works of anthropologist Clifford Geertz. I am not saying you should read anthropology/sociology texts. Unless you like that sort of thing lol

I also have 6+ years of theater experience (acting & directing), I use this all the time for my writing. When I think about a scene, I think about how I would work through it as an actor, how the character would move, and how would things read to an audience. The GOTE ("Goal, Obstacle, Tactics, and Expectation") method of acting by Robert Cohen is really useful hear if you want a more technical breakdown of what I mean by that.

This leads to a lot of what we called "business" in acting, doing small tiny things while you talk or move around on stage to give the sense you're a real human. I don't have to think or try on these sort of things because they're in my skill set already!

Things I do Personally

As in, these are not transferable skills this is just the stuff I do while working on projects.

Find a Vibe™️

I come into any fic with usually a goal I want to hit, a line of dialogue or something I want to capture. Just like, the general idea of a feeling a song even if the lyrics don't match up. Make a mood-board, a playlist, just find something you wanna do. It's less about the actual words on the page and what you're aiming to do.

Look to things that inspire you

Don't Hesitate got written because I wanted to write a fic that captured the same vibe as a scene in Macross Frontier, where two characters have a bittersweet kiss before the final battle and that scene still has me fucked up six years after watching it.

My current WIP is doing the same thing but with the song All I've Ever Known from Hadestown. Two characters working through loneliness, the sudden feeling of falling in love and the frustration that feeling can bring on sometime.

I don't plagiarize them word for word, but these are scenes that inspire me! I also patchwork quilt ideas together. Using Don't Hesitate again, I also ended up pulling from a bunch of shoujo anime, Toradora, Sailor Moon, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Tutu...specific scenes I enjoy to blend and create something new.

Goof Off While You Write

I name my documents stupid things, I write dumb placeholder dialogue or vague sentiments like "insert better word here", I make memes when I'm struggling and roast myself and my predictable tastes.

I spent twenty minutes texting a friend Juro's name with different letters spelt out and then the "fuck your chickenstrips" vine saying it was Juro during destruction. Just have fun with it!

Listen to J-POP On Loop for Hours at a Time

i am not kidding I do this all the time. Perfume, AKB48, anime idol osts, Sailor Moon's OPs/ED, vocaloid songs. I like technopop and Japanese is good because it usually doesn't distract my brain since I only know random phrases, but still know what the meaning og the song is.

I love music, it helps me vibe out.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work ;o;

I hope this is useful to you in some way! I'm so sorry it's so long winded but I am overly thorough and love to teach people ;w;

[asthmark]

❝ not alone ❞, l.ty

synopsis → “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

word count → 2.5k

warnings → angsty!!! the plot may not make sense since it’s literally 1 in the morning oops

a/n → i hope this concept makes sense and it isn’t too confusing or messy!! if it is just shoot me an ask i would be more than happy to clarify :] anyway i actually like the outcome of this but i am too tired to go back and reread it all for any mistakes so i just hope google docs has my back lol gn everyone

7:00 A.M.

the alarm you set for every year at the exact hour goes off at its appointed time, much to your dismay. the mere sound of your phone beeping has a knot forming in your stomach. you wished it would stop, that everything would just stop but that was beyond unrealistic. in fact, you felt foolish for even letting yourself think like that. no matter how badly you wanted things to change, they never would. you would have to endure the same things every year.

you had struggled to fall asleep the night before, that exact thought on your mind and the dread of facing the following day eating away at you. you had only managed to get some rest because of taeyong, who held onto you tightly and caressed your hair as he whispered sweet words to ease you into much needed sleep.

but the day was here now and there was no amount of romantic words or tender touches that would change that. there was absolutely nothing either of you could do about it.

you lean over towards your nightstand to turn off the alarm and taeyong stirs when he feels you begin to shift around in his arms. you lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly begins to wake up. he yawns and stretches his limbs out on the mattress which was routinely for him. this would usually be followed by him trying to give you a smooch only for you to squirm away, giggling as you complained about his morning breath.

it is not one of those mornings.

8:09 A.M.

you end up having cereal for breakfast, another big switch up from your routine. normally, you two would browse the internet in search of a recipe that looked promising and try your best to recreate it. you would end up with flour, sugar and dirty dishes all over the place but you never cared. then you would sit at the couch, happily enjoying the finished product and chatting with the tv playing softly in the background.

that morning you sit at the dinner table silently, the cereal in your bowls going soggy before either of you had made a dent in it. you had lost any appetite and from the looks of it so has taeyong.

“you should eat.”

you glance up at your boyfriend. he isn’t eating either, instead he focuses on dipping his spoon into his cereal, bringing it above the bowl only to let it fall back in again. you put your silverware down. “i don’t think i can.”

he hums softly, agreeing with you. “are you nervous?”

it went without saying that you were both terrified. but you know he’s just trying to make conversation. you just nod your head anyway.  

10:31 A.M.

you and taeyong move to sit on the couch, turning on the tv so you don’t have to bear anymore uncomfortable silences.

even the newscaster looks down in the dumps, as expected. her voice lacks emotion as she speaks about the forecast, knowing nobody would be taking genuine interest unless it was to get their mind off of the current situation.

what did she expect? the world was restarting, people weren’t going to care about the weather.

“now, for the ongoing events,” says another news anchor. “as we are all well aware of, today is the annual reset. businesses worldwide have closed, most people opting to spend the day with their friends and family and we advise any viewers to do the same. talk to your loved ones about the memories you’ve made in the past year and write down the things and people you do not want to forget.”

you turn to taeyong only to find his gaze is already focused on you. you don’t hesitate to grab the hand that rests in his lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. neither of you say a word as you go back to watching the television, taeyong giving your hand a reassuring squeeze every so often.

12:46 P.M.

by noon, you and taeyong had begun cleaning your apartment, making sure it was well organized so that the next day you could focus only on getting settled in to your, essentially, new lives. you do the standard dusting and vacuuming along with similar around-the-house chores. while going through the closet, taeyong finds a shoe box full of polaroids you two had taken throughout the years. there are dates and other additional notes scribbled in sharpie on every single picture so your post-reset selves could read about the details of each photo since you would not be able to remember it. he calls out your name, smiling brightly when he sees your face light up as you fondly look over your shared moments.

“i’m so glad we got that camera,” you say, shifting through a stack of the photographs.

he nods. “probably your best idea yet.”

you find a picture of him giving you a piggyback ride and coo. it’s quite blurry but you can clearly see the huge grins on your faces. “look at us.” you hand him the photo. “we look so happy.”

he makes a noise of agreement, staring lovingly at the image. “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

“quit it.” you shove his shoulder, smiling sadly as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. “i don’t want to cry right now, there’s still so much work to do.”

“it can wait.” he opens his arms and that’s all it takes for you to break. you crawl into his embrace, sobbing softly into his chest. it tugs at his heart strings. he tucks his chin above your head but you still notice how his shoulders shake and quiet hiccups escape his lips.

3:28 P.M.

once you and taeyong get tired of being confined to your apartment, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air. you walk around aimlessly and your final destination turns out to be olympic park. as expected, it’s quite empty since as you had heard on the news, everyone was spending their last couple hours with those they loved in private.

you take in the beautiful scenery and if either you catch sight of a pretty rock or blooming flower, you will stop to pick it up and carefully place it in your pockets for safe keeping. you had found that they served as good reminders of all the time you spent together. in fact, there are many more of these mini souvenirs in your home, decorating your shelves.  

“hold up,” says taeyong suddenly.

when you look at him his eyes have zeroed in on something on the ground. he kneels down and picks up a smooth rock. you can’t help but notice the familiarity of it’s color.

“pretty, right?” he says, dropping the item in the palm of your hand. “it matches your eyes.”

you smile at him, finding his attention to detail incredibly endearing. you hold on to the rock, feeling its curves with your fingers until a cluster of chrysanthemums catches your attention and you have to free up your hands to pick one. you decide on a yellow one and present it to your boyfriend.

“here,” you say. “for you.”

“hey, aren’t i supposed to be the one giving you flowers?” taeyong asks but he takes it from you anyway.

“you’re supposed to give flowers to people you like,” you say. “and i like you.”

“you like me?” he asks, gasping softly. “how embarrassing.”

you go along with his joke. “don’t you like me too?”

he shakes his head and makes a face. “no way... i love you.”

you shove his shoulder. “so cheesy.”

he can’t argue with that so he just nods and chuckles as he tucks the chrysanthemum into his dark locks of hair. at seeing this, you raise the polaroid camera round your neck toward taeyong and he, already used to it, automatically poses for you. he puts his arms over his head, curving them into a kind of crooked heart. he gives an open mouthed smile only resuming to his normal position when he hears the click of the camera. you and him share a laugh once the polaroid picture develops completely.

“oh god, i look ridiculous,” he comments. “please get rid of that.”

you only give him a sarcastic, “yeah sure” and continue walking.

you two never got rid of pictures, no matter how ridiculous or unflattering they were. you agreed that every moment you shared counted and deserved to be remembered.  

although, they never would be.

5:45 P.M.

you chew on the cap of your pen, massaging your aching hand. you had been writing for almost an hour and you had your cramping fingers to prove it. despite the discomfort, you aren’t one to break tradition. the ‘things i love about you’ list was an ongoing thing you and taeyong had been doing for... ever. they definitely came in handy if either if you wanted to read about what the other was like in past years.

“everything good over there?” taeyong asks, from the other side of the couch.

you shake your head. “this is too hard. i have no idea how i’ve kept this up for four years.”

he puts a hand over his heart. “wow, i’m that hard to love, huh?”

“you know that’s not what i meant,” you say, glaring. “i just have so much stuff to say about you, so much stuff i want future me to know.”

he nods, solemnly. “i get it. i don’t want to leave out a thing but it’s kinda hard to fit a year’s worth of feelings and emotions into a couple pages.”

your let your head fall onto the couch. “why do you have to be so lovable?”

taeyong points an accusing finger at you. “i could ask you the same thing! you’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, if i try to write everything i love about you my hand will fall off!”

you sit up to stare at him. he looks genuinely offended by your ‘wonderfulness’. you pick up your pen and paper.

adorably dramatic, you write.

he scoots closer to you, exclaiming, “hey, what did you just put!”

you hug your notepad tightly to your chest. “no peeking!”

7:12 P.M.

your boyfriend hands you his letter with hopeful eyes. unlike the lists that had been made hours earlier, these writings had been in the works for quite some time. there are letters you and taeyong had written for each other dated all the way from 2016. that was also the year the first polaroids you owned were from so you both assumed it was when you had begun dating. if you ever want to have a good cry, all you have to do is find those letters.

in them, there are heartfelt words for the other person’s eyes only describing how they felt around them, why they were so special, among other sentiments. most importantly, though, you always included why you would never forget the other person. of course, one could say how ironic this was considering that forgetting was what the reset was all about but nevertheless, it was reassuring to read. it made your love seem unbreakable; something so strong it defied the impossible.  

you give taeyong your letter, feeling somewhat nervous. he doesn’t hesitate to open the envelope carefully. he slowly removes your letter from inside and you mirror his delicacy. the pair of you sit in absolute silence as you read the words off the pages.

my y/n,

what an amazing year it’s been with you. i know i say that in every letter i write but it’s really true. i never wrote things like this before you came along. only the basics—my name, who my parents were, my birthday, etc. you know, things like that. frankly, i had nothing else worth remembering. but now i do. you’re my whole world, the only thing i truly know and i am convinced i could not be any happier or luckier.

i don’t know what a life without you is like literally but i wouldn’t have it any other way. the situation the world faces with this whole reset mess isn’t ideal and i’ll oftentimes think of what a normal life would be like. even then, in this perfect universe, you’re still by my side.

i still wake up next to you.

i still spend every waking moment with you.

i still fall asleep with you in my arms.

you are still my everything. i am convinced you always will be.

many people avoid love or close relationships nowadays knowing that at the end of the year it’ll all be erased no matter what. how dumb is that? they don’t know what they’re missing out on. having a partner is nothing short of a blessing and you’ve taught me that by being with me every step of the way. sure, forgetting our past together doesn’t get any easier and neither does writing these letters but i’d write a million of them if that’s what it took to have you by my side.

i can only hope you’ll continue being there for me and give me something worth remembering in future years.

you are the light of my life and i can’t wait to fall in love with you again.

yours truly,

taeyong

the tears stroll down your cheeks and drip down on to the paper in your shaky hands. you use your sleeve to try and wipe them away to the best of your ability without smudging the ink. taeyong finishes reading your letter moments later, placing on the coffee table and only staring at you with a distant look in his eyes.

your voice comes out in a whisper. “are you okay?”

he nods, sniffling but his shiny eyes say otherwise. “can you maybe just... hold me?” his voice cracks along with your heart.

he ends up with his head in your lap, your fingers pulling and tugging at his soft hair. you have a couple hours left but you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving the year in this exact position.

11:59 P.M.

taeyong has made it clear he wants you to be the first thing he sees when you enter the new year. so, you spend your last minute getting into a position that will allow that.

you end up sitting sit cross-legged across from him. he’s in the same position and in the small distance between you, your fingers meet. the hold he has on your hands is so tight his knuckles have turned white. his eyes bore into yours and although he doesn’t say a word, his hazel orbs let you know it’s all going to be okay. you repeat those words to yourself.

it’s going to be okay.

it’s going to be okay.

it’s going to be okay.

“i love you,” you blurt.

he only has a couple seconds to respond.

“i love you, too. if you’re going to remember one thing, let it be that.”

[sarahlevys]

One Person's Guide to Coping with AD(H)D in the Workplace

Howdy! This is a non-exhaustive overview of a few things that I have learned to put into practice to cope with my ADD in the workplace.

For some background context, I have ADD but do not currently manage the condition via medications due to some side effects that negatively affect my quality of life. Currently, I hold an executive leadership position at the company I work for, and manage individuals with ADHD. I use ADD to describe myself because that is the name that was given to me when I was diagnosed.

I don't intend to speak as a sole authority on this subject; I've just been asked to provide ideas and thoughts on this by friends. The coping mechanisms in this post are by no means not intended to be the only coping mechanisms that exist.

Your Mind is Different

I've learned to accept the fact that I will easily get side-tracked, distracted, and have days in which I simply cannot focus on things during the time in which I either want to focus, or have been told (by supervisors, bosses, my own internal guilt mechanism, etc.) that I should be focusing on.

All of this is okay! My mind rarely, if ever, works on command when it's time to do something that I'm not intrinsically motivated to do, like work. And sometimes, even when I *want* to do the thing – like a hobby or something I genuinely enjoy – I can't focus. All of that is still okay.

Be gentle to yourself. A coping mechanism that works one day may not work another day – or even later, that same day. It's okay to multi-task, to lose focus, or to get hyper-focused on something you should or shouldn't.

Allow yourself the grace to not always use a planner, a habit tracker, or similar.

Some Things to Try

You'll note a common theme in all of these: these don't always work for me all the time. Trial and error is totally okay!

Focus:

If you find yourself itching to do something else at the same time as something you're working on – e.g., check your text messages – go ahead and do it. Sometimes, if I don't let myself give in to those impulses, they build up in my mind until my focus on what I'm 'supposed' to be focusing on gets shot to all hell.

That said, on those moments where I settle into 'the zone' or 'flow,' I am sometimes I'm able to go ahead and shut off whatever might pull my focus. Roll with it and do whatever's right for you in the moment!

In meetings, depending on the stakes of it, I might play a bit of sudoku or doodle; doing something that's low pressure, even for a few seconds, can often help me feel like I've 'multi-tasked' or 'slipped into something else' long enough to refocus on the meeting at hand.

Taking notes during a meeting, especially by hand, also can feel like multi-tasking, even if I'm not.

Standing up during a task or call often helps me focus. (Sometimes it doesn't!) Either way, even if it's just for a little bit, I still am usually happier for being able to physically fidget or stretch more than I would in a seated position.

Listening to music while I work helps me feel like I'm multi-tasking, even if I'm not – but I know this doesn't work for everyone! And like everything else, some days it works for me, some days it doesn't. I personally prefer music with lyrics, but I know others who don't.

Give Yourself Breaks:

Sometimes, when I'm moving really quickly – e.g., if I'm going through a lot of tasks, going from meeting to meeting, or trying to think and do a lot – I feel myself getting short of breath/tense. Breaks are really helpful to me!

Focusing is hard work! Try to give yourself at least one 10-15 minute break in both halves of your work shift.

Allow yourself the space to also zone out for a few minutes here and there, too.

Sometimes, even just walking around my home is enough to refresh my brain.

You might have success with the Pomodoro Technique: https://pomofocus.io/ This involves trying to work for 25 minutes, then taking a 5 minute break regardless. Repeat this for as long as desired – typically it'll be done 4 times (for 2 hours), followed by a 15 minute break.

Thinking Through Things Before Sending Them Loose:

My biggest struggle! I'm a big blurter, both out loud and via text/typing.

My first plan of attack is to, once I've typed through something, to pause before hitting send. I'm a fast typist with +100WPM, and I have to literally (sometimes out loud!) tell myself to not hit send right away so I can slow down and read through what I'm saying before I do hit that send button.

When communication is handled verbally, I physically try to weigh each word as I speak it, and focus on hearing each word before going onto the next.

I have learned to accept the fact that I will often trail off and lose my train of thought, and I will admit that out loud to whoever I'm speaking to – even if they're a client or someone important – so I can buy myself a little more time to sort things out. Being open about this takes pressure off of me.

Resist the Urge to Speed Through Work:

My other big struggle!

If you feel comfortable, speak to your manager about fail-safes and review processes that currently exist in your work environment. At my job, we've created internal processes that always involve someone else reviewing your work (no matter who is executing the task) so we have built-in failsafes.

If you do take a task quickly, for whatever reason – e.g., if it's something comfortable to you, or you're running out of time – speak to whoever you're doing the work for in order to make sure your work is reviewed, or to buy yourself more time to review your work before you hand it in.

Talk to Your Supervisor:

Ideally, you have the kind of relationship with your supervisor where you can explain that: 1) multi-tasking doesn't always mean that you aren't paying attention, whether you're actually multi-tasking or chasing something that'll give you the feeling of multi-tasking; 2) single-focus is hard. Even if they don't necessarily change anything about your operations processes, having that awareness goes a long way.

You may even consider talking to your other team members about this; I sometimes can come off as impatient or rushing when i don't need to be, and I've also talked about how I often go off-topic or off-track and people know that about me.

If you get a lot of same-day tasks that can pull focus from what you've planned to do today, you may want to talk to your supervisor about requesting a minimum of one day's notice for your work or to request communication when a same-day task is being sent your way.

Create Control For Yourself:

A big part of my instance of ADD is needing to control everything so that I know exactly what's happening at all times and nothing's going to distract me more than i already innately am. I've learned to (somewhat) let go of the control thing, but of course being able to do that means being aware of when it's popping up.

With this in mind, I try to be mindful of when I'm feeling tense or out of control – a bit trigger for me is when a bunch of unexpected meetings or communications crop up, for example – and to pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I can do to solve it, or to roll with the punches.

I've found that taking the time to think about the next day and set up my planner for the following day in the afternoon before signing off, or after work has closed, and then reviewing that again in the morning of, really helps. Of course, I don't always remember to do it. But when I do, it really help!

Organize Your Work & Find Low-Pressure Accountability:

The way that I organize my tasks for each day differs based off of the day or my mood. Sometimes I organize them by priority, sometimes by the amount of time that I think it'll take me to do something, sometimes by client, etc. Be flexible!

At my work, we do a daily check-in with the whole team where we say what we plan to do that day, and I've found that group accountability to be really helpful. That might be something your manager might be interested in providing to you (e.g., a quick message in the morning to let them know what you plan to do).

That said, accountability can sometimes feel like too much pressure if you don't always do everything on your list. Ideally, you can talk with your supervisor or even a trusted co-worker to set up an environment in which it's okay for things to roll over or for priorities to shift depending on how a day is going.

Find a Flexible Way to Organize Yourself:

Paper journals/planners and I don't mix; when I forget to use it, the empty pages give me guilt, and the permanence of pen also makes me anxious since things in my mind are so fluid.

With this in mind, I prefer digital means since I can rearrange and move things around. I personally use an iPad Pro and a Pencil to take notes in digital note-keeping software, but this can be cost-prohibitive. If you struggle with paper methods of organization, consider using note-taking software or even Google Docs to create a plain-text bullet journal so you can move things around.

That's all I've got! Please let me know if you found this guide helpful, and what other coping mechanism or ideas I should add to this (with credit to you!)

[blkmxrvel]

All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited. 

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments? 

Do you think this relationship is going to work? 

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

 She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking. 

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building. 

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered. 

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all. 

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1. 

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down. 

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?" 

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“ 

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you. 

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more." 

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body. 

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates. 

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead. 

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up." 

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat. 

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap. 

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?" 

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers. 

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass. 

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well. 

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie. 

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work. 

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly. 

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day." 

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours." 

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her. 

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows. 

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away. 

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed." 

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?" 

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through. 

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand. 

“I promise, princess." 

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. 

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend? 

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes. 

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter. 

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.” 

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie? 

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love. 

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.  

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.” 

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better. 

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.” 

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.” 

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone. 

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad. 

 What had she just done? 

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had. 

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head. 

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain. 

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.  

[livinginsunnyhell]

4, 10, 23 for the ask game🥰🥰🥰 (i’m trying to restrain myself bc as u know i am in love with ur writing!!!!)

Writing Ask game!

Lol I love that you had to hold back! Thank you for sending one! And as always for the kind words! And especially thank you for putting this together! I love doing these! I answered one of them already so if you want, feel free to send another. 😊🤗

4) What’s your writing process?

My writing process... it has developed a lot over the years. Generally, when I’m on a structured schedule, I write for two hours a day. Right now I’m moving so I’m writing when I can (which technically should be right now but whatever). So I have a google doc where I throw all my ideas into and then when I like one I write an outline. So the fic I’m writing now is 15 chapters and I write a vague outline for each chapter. I’ll also include the underlying themes I want to tackle and scenes that I want to include.

Then when I write the chapter, I write a more fleshed out outline for each one so I can pick up where I left off easier and work through writers block. Honestly sitting down to write is the hard part these days not the actual writing. It’s called writing resistance not writers block.

Anyway, I write about 1k a day and I don’t stop writing to look up words or research etc. I write through the pain you could say. I make a note to go back and rework though or add a scene I don’t feel like writing at the time. Sex scenes I usually put a marker to come back to.

I also know that the first version I’ll hate but I just want to get the words down on the page to rework later on. I’ve read several different methods for writing this way and some people say it’s bad while others say it’s good. This just works for me. I know my first draft will be shitty I just want to write it out of my head so I have something to play with later on. The real work in my opinion is the editing. That’s when the story comes to life. It takes me about a week to write a 6k-8k chapter. I don’t always follow the outline. It’s just a map I can choose to follow but sometimes I go off road and go with what organically works.

10) Where do you write? (i.e. in bed, on the couch, on a laptop, on a phone)

I actually answered 10 here.

23) What’s your favorite line that you’ve written?

Omg lol that’s the hardest and best question I’ve gotten. So I’ll be honest, I usually have a favorite line in every fic I’ve written. But the few lines that come to mind (and I went looking through my fanfics to make sure they were accurate) are the following:

-I loved writing Ian’s journal entries in Never Tear Us Apart. Basically all of them. I thought they did a good job of showing what he was going through. Young Ian was my favorite one though and “Lip sucks.”

-In Sensory Detail, I really liked the lines, “It was fucking stupid. He knew that it was just a shirt, but it also meant so much more to him than that. It survived, like him, in Mexico. And, like him, it landed right back where it was supposed to be - where he was supposed to be. In Ian Gallagher’s bed.”

-In Bath Time For Bondage, I loved the line, “Pocketing these moments as building blocks toward a future together, not fleeting memories to look back on in the cold, dark parts of the night.” I also love the way that fic ends. I think it’s the best ending I’ve written.

-In Wipe You Clean With Dirty Hands, I loved the line and I’m not sure why, “his knife broke and Ian quietly passed him his own.” I think I just like the symbolism of that line.

[onyourzeus]

• stress-free | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: stress-free pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you (she/her pronouns) genre: FLUFF, college!au words: 3.4k

author’s note: @pirimiritiddy​ requested a fic about wonpil, and here it is. it went on for longer than i previously planned, buuuuut. i hope it’s still okay aaaa 

(this is the 1st time i’ve written something for wonpil so if i get his personality wrong, i do apologize. i am also a baby myday huhu)

this dot fic (bullet style) is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario that i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: dowoon (currently only 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

wonpil hates his schedule for this winter term 

who assigns a class that is only available at seven in the evening??

3 times a week

during THE WINTER

did he mention it’s a major lecture he’s required to take?? 

psychology of stress, more like

this class is giving him the kind of stress it is specifically warning its students about 

anyway, what can he say. he chose this major, there’s only 1 more term after this one and then finally: graduation

it’ll be fine, he’ll live

thank the heavens they didn’t need to attend the first two meetings, but some reading material was provided 

and was expected by the professor to have been read and reflected upon 

the class is really living up to its name because when wonpil opened the pdf 

it was 30 pages of tiny font sized sentences (for ants!) about the definition of stress and how it affects every part of the body yada yada yada

wonpil tried. he really tried 

that is to say he fell asleep on his desk while going over the same 20th page of the document 

if it weren’t for jae shaking him awake, he’d miss his first night class 

it would’ve been nice… if only the professor didn’t take attendance (something about being generous enough to make the first 2 classes “free,” so everyone has an obligation to come in for the remainder of the semester)

great, he’s stuck freezing his ass off just walking to the bus stop alone 

hopefully they turn the heater all the way up in the auditorium or else

the thousands spent in tuition would have literally been for nothing

overdramatic wonpil, can you blame him 

he thinks about reading the remaining 10 pages on the bus, even if he knows nothing of value will be absorbed

he wants to tries anyway, he does feel a little bit refreshed from that impromptu nap 

the bus has arrived, and it’s packed as usual; a lot of the students riding the shuttle are just yet to take off in the following stops

wonpil squeezes his way inside, 30 pages of stress psychology research gripped in both hands 

“excuse me, sorry,” wonpil mumbles, eyeing for a spot to sit to make him comfortable 

because once all the people standing up leave, it’s usually a race for the exit 

he’ll never understand college students

finally, he sees an empty seat way in the back. there was a girl on one end and two other students who seem to be ready to get off on the right side

wonpil doesn’t mind sitting next to someone, but once those 2 are gone he’ll just scoot over to give the girl on the left some privacy 

she seems very much in deep sleep anyway, wonpil wonders if her stop is coming or she’s riding to go to campus? 

wonpil doesn’t have time to think about other people, it causes him unnecessary stress

once sat down, his eyes focus on the last page he left off of 

the words register as gibberish in his brain, and with the bus moving so much it makes it even more difficult to follow along the paragraphs

wonpil takes in a deep breath, holds it in, and sighs very heavily 

his patience is usually the best out of his friends, but this class is turning more and more into the psychology of how to get you stressed tf out instead 

the bus nears its next stop, and the two people on his side stand up to leave, yes he can breathe normal air

however

hold on

his shoulder feels heavy 

turning his head slightly, for some reason once the bus had stopped its engine the girl’s head had flipped over to lean against wonpil’s shoulder instead 

oh no oh no oh no 

his shoulders suddenly freeze, as if blasted with a ray gun filled with ice 

it’s heavy and he can’t move, it’s numb and this girl’s hair is splayed all over his his sweater 

and she

she smells of coffee, and wonpil inhales it in

it’s not foul or anything, but it’s definitely exuding notes of espresso bean and freshly roasted coffee 

it makes wonpil feel a little more awake 

but he still can’t move his shoulders, and suddenly he’s panicking because the bus started moving again and even though capacity has lessened by 80%

someone decided to sit on the other end of the row he’s at

so if he even attempts to move, he’ll still be seated next to someone 

wonpil grumbles, lower lip jutting forward

something shifts

and he realizes he shook his shoulders a little bit with his frustration

“ah…” he exclaims inaudibly, panicking at the possibility that he had woken her up from her nap

wonpil tenses up, shoulders stiff and eyes peering at his side to see what she’s up to

she lifts her head just a few inches off of wonpil’s shoulder, and for a moment he’s relieved that maybe she realizes what’s going on

but wonpil only hears a soft yawn coming from her, and she returns to using his very rigid shoulder as her pillow during this bus ride

let’s just say that the next thirteen minutes was more stress-inducing than wonpil wanted it to be

right when the bus reaches the final stop (main campus), wonpil exerts any and all efforts he has to shake his shoulder, up and down, enough to elicit an awake response from this stranger 

the moment he feels her let up, wonpil dashes through that bus door like there’s no tomorrow

he is greeted with the coldest wind hitting his face, and his shoulder feeling numb from all the.. pillow roleplaying it did, if you will 

wonpil feels bad, borderline guilty for leaving her like that— what if she’s asleep until now?? he can almost hear soft snores from her end for a minute there, too, and it took so much of wonpil to resist chuckling at it while in panic mode simultaneously

suffice to say, he was not able to read the rest of the document

in wonpil’s defense, he had encountered it first hand — how stress overcomes one’s body and mind 

he forces himself to focus on what’s ahead, as boring as it sounds

he enters the lecture hall with a few minutes so spare, deciding to sit in the back

the projector screens are big and wonpil is not about to take his chances of getting called on today

luckily enough, he finds a row with visibly no other student sitting around the area 

shoulder feeling more alive, he comes back to his senses as well 

he takes off his outer sweater as it had become toastier inside. he still had a couple layers beneath his clothes

as the professor starts talking, wonpil finds himself yawning a few times

he doesn’t know if the video playing on screen is boring him or the girl in the bus affected his sleepiness

suddenly he remembers the smell of coffee, and how that’d sound real good right about now 

he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, trying to take him back in the zone of at least writing down important notes 

he’s on the fifth bullet point of his note-taking when the door behind him opens abruptly

it wasn’t loud or disrupting to the whole class, virtually no one even batted an eye

but thats because they’re far from the door

and wonpil is literally ten feet away, so when he feels the cold suddenly hit his back he had to know the source of the sudden hit in temperature

the class hadn’t been going on for less than an hour, and there have been students coming in on the other end of the auditorium

so wonpil isn’t that surprised that another student has just arrived 

he caught a glimpse of her hair, but that’s about it as wonpil goes back to his tedious notes 

until the very same person scoots herself in wonpil’s row

he huffs under his breath, the illusion of some privacy now shattered 

with a polite (semi-forced) smile, wonpil turns to the side to greet his classmate

again, wonpil becomes frozen in spot 

kind of like when you feel a magnetic pull somewhere, you follow it

and then suddenly you see it from afar, not believing your eyes if it’s actually real; if it’s actually there

in wonpil’s case, he’s one seat away from her

recognizing the flow of her hair, but more importantly

that distinct scent of coffee beans from her clothes 

this time, wonpil has a clear look on her face and he’s… speechless 

his polite smile has turned into a look of awe, eyes glued towards her 

she senses his gaze, turns to him and quickly bows down as a polite greeting 

“sorry, but has the class been going on for a while?” 

she speaks 

“oh, um, what— what?” 

“oh,” she looks confused, but rephrases her question, “what time did the class start? i had a hard time finding this lecture hall.” 

she’s talking to him, not just leaning her head on his shoulder

“seven” 

was all wonpil could say 

“it started at 7? cool, i’m not that late then!” she cheers, grinning shyly. wonpil watches the way she puts a strand of hair tucked beneath her ear. she’s pulling out her laptop from her bag when she notices a pair of wide eyes still on her person

“is… is this seat taken?” she asks, and wonpil hasn’t even taken in the fact that this is the same person from the bus 

“yes” 

tongue-tied wonpil strikes again, blinking back his own obliviousness to her question

“i mean— no, now it is, by you. you’re sitting there, um, i— feel free to sit wherever you want”

he’s scrambling for his words, flustered cheeks heating up amidst the warmth of the room

she just nods her head in understanding, and wonpil finally realizes he’s been staring at her direction for longer than he should have

“STRESS” 

the professor verbalized into her mic which causes wonpil to look to the front all of a sudden 

right, right. he’s at a lecture. what’s gotten him so fidgety and embarrassed and now all that he’s pretending to type on his google doc is

sdfjfjdfhshllsghgjghsh

just so he looks busy next to the girl who fell asleep on him on the bus

was there any point in preoccupying his mind with thoughts of her, and her head resting on him? no it’s stupid, wonpil knows this. 

people do it all the time, by accident, due to exhaustion, they don’t mean a thing by it

but wonpil is curious, and this is going to kill him. for sure

so he peeks at her again, and like a normal, decent student that she is (compared to wonpil at this point let’s be real) her hands are busy hand writing whatever the professor was saying

meanwhile, wonpil continues to sdfjskgnglddfjs his way to a passing B in this class

even in this large, spacious lecture hall he can still take in her scent

maybe it’s a new perfume that’s up and coming, that’s why it smells so strongly on her

oh! he can ask that? hey, do you mind sharing what line of perfume you’re using? it smells really good

it sounds like a common question, right? i mean if you wear strong fragrances you’re bound to be asked a question about it

he’s about to ask, he really was so ready to ask, what was he gonna lose? his dignity? 

over a simple, inquisitive question? 

“and now before we go on a twenty minute break, it’s time to introduce yourself to the person sitting close to you”

...

why do college professors have to do this? 

wonpil bites his lip, at this point in time he’s a senior who’s fed up with ice breakers like this. if it were any other person sitting next to him, in front of him, behind him— he would just go with his usual introduction

“hi i’m kim wonpil, studying psychology and i graduate in the spring. i’m taking this class for a major requirement” 

then go about his merry way.

but with her? she and him have history

sort of, and it’s the kind of history that is recent and wonpil is unsure if she is even aware of the weird string of fate-like connection they have 

or, wonpil, hear your consciousness out

it’s not a big deal, and in the scenario she doesn’t remember she fell asleep on the bus on another person

then you can just say hi like usual, and cut the string of fate there and then

(but does wonpil really want that?)

“hi”

oh crap she’s started it 

wonpil braces himself for whatever outcome this interaction comes out to. he’ll let her speak, and tailor his response from there

“i’m sorry, this might be really weird but that’s your sweater, right?” 

so she didn’t give her name, her major, anything substantial about herself but instead shoots wonpil a question

pointing at the sweater that’s draped on the seat in front of wonpil

wonpil doesn’t even check to look. he gulps, nods his head and squeaks, “yeah… why?” 

something in her eyes flash by, almost like a glint of recognition

she puts a hand on her mouth, and wonpil can make out the faintest shade of pink blushing its way to her ears

it’s kinda cute

“did someone happen to… fall asleep on you on the bus coming to campus today?” 

“... yes?” 

“that was me” she buries her face even further into her hands, almost lowering down to the chair 

wonpil thought she was gonna fall for some reason so he had to remedy the situation somewhat

“i.. i, um, did you have a good nap?” 

great comeback 

wonpil was so ready to leave the auditorium and never come back after the break

but he hears her giggle, and slowly come out of her shyness

and it’s a sweet sight, to finally see the way her cheeks look full of embarrassed laughter

as she twirls around a length of hair nervously

and taps the pen on the surface of her desk repeatedly 

it was endearing, and wonpil forgets about why he was panicking in the first place 

she then explains that she had work the whole day, and only had an hour to rest up before going to this 7pm class

wonpil listens intently, watching her mannerisms and the lilt in her voice when she continues to apologize for falling asleep on him without realizing it

“i’m not usually a deep sleeper, but work was exceptionally tiring today and i just needed at least a bit of shut eye” wonpil nods understandingly, almost worried about her health

“where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“at the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus,” she answers, head tilting to the side “i’m still wearing my uniform for it… is it too obvious?”

wonpil didn’t even realize her black long sleeves was a cafe uniform

but it did explain her strong coffee smell 

“something like that,” wonpil decided to say, curling his lips upward, feeling content and relieved at the turnout of events 

for the 20 minute break, wonpil thought they’d reconcile over what transpired between them and mind their own business soon enough— even if he thinks it’s hard to do that now knowing something about her

which intrigues wonpil 

and, quite frankly, he’d like to talk to her more

just so he has an excuse to watch her emotions paint her face beautifully

but there was a pause right after their short conversation 

and in real Awkward Wonpil Fashion, he shows her the 30 page reading material, in all of its flimsy glory and starts asking questions about it

“so uh did you read the whole thing? i thought it was interesting up until the part that i dozed off” 

and wonpil got his wish; he sees her eyes shine in surprise at his sudden attempt of an intellectual discussion

but she doesn’t deter him away

and actually, she’s read the whole damn thing. and wonpil was beyond amazed at the level of detail she explains to him about the parts he didn’t understand

he actually starts typing real notes while she was talking

this made her laugh in between her explanations, and wonpil didn’t understand what was so funny about

the fight or flight response

“it’s just. the way you’re typing this down so seriously, i’m sure the prof can explain it better”

wonpil shakes his head no, shakes it so much it hurt his temples

she laughs again, and he likes hearing that sound

“do you want to see what i’ve typed the past hour and a half of this class?’

“bet :p”

“actually nevermind” flashbacks of dsfkjsdjffdslkg ring true in wonpil’s mind as he quickly backspaces the nonsense in his notes

and the conversation continues from more psychology talks, to figuring out they’re in the same major but she’s a recent transfer student from last year 

and had been juggling work and school since the start of her senior year

wonpil wonders why he hasn’t seen her in the coffee shop yet

he would have done a double take the first time meeting her there for sure

“oh you’re too kind,” she suddenly replies??? 

wonpil had said his thoughts out loud 

without further embarrassing him, she says that she had only started working there since it’s more convenient for her; wonpil feels grateful she doesn’t dwell on the compliment any longer

alas, the break finishes and the droll of the professor’s voice reverberates throughout the room

this time, though, wonpil definitely feels more alert (awake enthusiastic) as the two of them exchange little comments about the class material

and before you know it, class is over and wonpil is an excited bunny. since they’re by the door they got to leave before everyone else

wonpil thinks it’s time to part ways… but this time they’re not fully strangers at all. they’re taking the same class, same major, they even know each other’s name. 

surely this isn’t the last time, right?

“hey, wonpil…” he didn’t even realize that they have started walking towards the bus stop together

“hm?”

“i think i owe you one,” she starts, stopping her tracks to face him. eyebrows up in hesitation, wonpil waits for her to finish

“you know, for taking over your personal space for my own comfort”

“oh that? haha that’s nothing :)” honestly if wonpil can do it again he’d volunteer in a heartbeat

“no, really. let me make it up to you. coffee? on me? i make a mean cappuccino” she winks 

it strikes through wonpil’s heart 

no need for resuscitation.. yet

“or a matcha latte? whatever you’d like it’ll be on me”

“anything!” wonpil exclaims, suddenly realizing the offer being given to him, the excitement bubbling up inside him again. “i mean, anything you’d like to have me try. surprise me,” he corrects himself

that manages to have her grin widely, eyes twinkling in excitement similar to wonpil’s and he thinks

they can get along

they can get to know each other better this way 

“would you be up to go for one now?” 

“oh— oh! now?” 

“yeah, that way none of us takes the risk of falling asleep back on the bus hehe” 

well, he really wouldn’t mind that happening a second time

“really now, wonpil?”

andddd he exposed himself again

it’s fine, she tugs his hand slightly to lead him to the bus that has arrived and wonpil follows in a daze

it’s a little full, so they have no other choice but to stand and hold onto the railings above

“guess no falling asleep here…” she teases, and now wonpil can’t use his hands to hide his blushing face

but the feeling of her just close by 

and the scent of coffee lingering in the air

in between them

just inches away from each other

it’ll do for now

[sevenfactorial]

Info about applying to PhD programs in pure math

This is... basically what it sounds like. I’m sure a lot of this is applicable to other PhD applications but I’m only very familiar with pure math. This is aimed at current seniors about to apply, but there is a section about prepping for applications in advance.

The highlights:

Recommendation letters are the most important thing. Most schools ask for 3ish. Try to get people who know you well, not just a student in the class. Someone you've conducted research with and one from a different institution are ideal if possible

Ask for rec letters at least a month before the due date is a good rule of thumb.

Research experience is probably the second most important.

Get the opinion of multiple professors who know you in order to build a list of potential schools. Then widdle it down to your will-actually-apply list (probably 8-14 ish). 

My opinion but please apply to at least 3-4 safety/match schools. Even when you're fully qualified, acceptance rates are simply low enough that a bit of bad luck means getting rejected or waitlisted from a few of them.

Most pure math due dates are in early-mid Dec but a few schools are in Nov and some are as late as mid-Jan. 

Schools will generally have their own graduate application portals. Some are better organized than others. Some require you to submit all your material before you can send a request for submitting rec letters so plan accordingly.

Acceptance letters will very slowly start going out in mid-Feb but the vast majority of programs won't send out anything until like, March and not be done until later than that. Accordingly, wait until at least mid-March to begin freaking out if you haven't been accepted anywhere.

You should 100% be expecting a tuition waiver and stipend from a program if you're applying for a PhD.

The rest of the posts is.... ridiculously long so I’m putting it under a cut. I mention things to do in advance to help you decide if grad school is right for you and things that make your application look good, give a full time line of the process, a list of things applications commonly ask for, and some miscellaneous notes. (The points above are repeated in more detail).

In addition, some links to other resources math students may appreciate:

an old post of mine about grad school apps (overlaps a lot and features some ranting from during the application process)

about REUs including my addition specifically about math ones

summer programs for undergrads that aren’t REUs by @counter-example and @jungleuniversity

Tips for prospective grad student visits 

Also about prospective grad student visits by @thisurlhasbeenleftasanexercise

Also for context, I went to a large state school in the US for undergrad. I started as a CS major and added on math as a secondary major after my first year and dropped CS during third year. I’m primarily interested in discrete and algebra, though I have a significant topology background from undergrad too. I got most of my advice from people around the department, as I became pretty involved during my third year. Now, I’m a first year grad student at another large state school in the US, generally considered pretty decent though not a “top math program” at all. Not that much else has happened so far.

Things in advance (aka things to help you decide if grad school is for you and things that look good on an application)

Take the standard classes. For pure math, this is at least one semester of linear alg, abstract alg, and analysis each. Linear and analysis are also good for applied math but I'm not sure what else if anything is considered standard.

Take some grad classes if you have the option. Most people are not ready for this until senior year, but some do manage as juniors. Talk to people who know you well and the prof teaching the class before you do this though.

Try to get involved with research whether this is through independent studies at your home institution, REUs, internships, or other stuff.

Be involved in your department. This helps with getting you more personalized advice for applying.

The rough suggested timeline (assuming junior yr is your second to last year and senior is your last of undergrad)

Junior April: Take the math subject GRE so you can take it again in Sep or Oct if desired (perhaps not applicable atm). The general can be taken kinda whenever; I suggest fall of senior year.

Junior April/May: Start talking to professors/post docs/mentors/etc. about programs you may be interested in. Write/type it down. Don't worry if it gets long, you will shorten again later.

Summer: Do some research if possible; an REU or research at your institution (if an REU, also get your mentor's opinion on potential schools towards the end as well)

Senior Sep: Start whittling down your list. 8-14 seems to be the "normal" range of schools to apply to but some people panic and do more. Remember that asking for waivers is completely acceptable but applying is still just generally expensive (I spent around $800 for 10 schools)

Senior Sep: Apply for the NSF GRFP. You can apply as an undergrad senior and once during your first or second year of grad school if you didn't already get it. The due date is in mid-late OC but ideally you'll have a draft of your essays and ask for rec letters by the end of Sep, if not earlier.

Senior early Nov: Ask for rec letters if you haven't already. The rule of thumb is a month before the due date. Provide them a list of schools you want to apply to including due date and where/how to submit as soon as possible (as well as anything else they request of course; many ask for a resume and a draft of your personal statement).

Senior Dec-Jan: Submit stuff! Pure math programs typically have deadlines in Dec or early Jan. I think the big days are Dec 10th, Dec 15th, and Jan 15th but some are earlier or later. (applied math masters tend to be earlier I think; in Nov). I suggest putting them all into a list or calendar. In addition, some schools won't let letter writers submit until all of your stuff is submitted so start applications early, even if you don't finish them immediately.

Senior Feb: Programs will slowly start sending out offers in early Feb and pick up in mid Feb, but don't fret until AT LEAST the beginning of March! Grad programs are just way too slow at getting out offers for it to be worth worrying until then (and even then, it's definitely not time to panic but mathematicians are frequently anxious people so I get it). Waitlists are slower to come out; usually starting in early March. Also note, there are many programs that don't actually send out replies to everyone unfortunately.

Senior late Feb-early April: prospective student days! They might be online in 2021 unfortunately but try to attend whatever form they're in if you can (only one of my visits during spring 2020 was online since the others happen to be very early and safely beat covid in the US). Be warned, it's very possible to get offers of admissions and to visit very last minute. I do not have advice for how to make that less stressful.

Senior April 15th: Common reply deadline. If you got your offer in the first round or two, this is probably your deadline to accept. In addition, this means more offers will likely come out shortly after once more people have declined. 

Senior summer: graduate. Send a completed, official transcript to your new institution. Check your new email account for stuff you're suppose to do. Some programs have some sort of program during the summer for in-coming students. Most places have graduate student training of some sort for a week or two before semester starts. 

Some common things to be asked for in applications

Not actually a thing asked for but many graduate schools have their own portal for which you will have to make an account to submit an application. A few use a common system that kinda sort shares a database of accounts? Some are fine and some massively suck.

Personal Statement/Statement of Purpose: Occasionally called something else and once in a while actually separate things; will usually have a prompt of wildly differing specificity. Sometimes, the prompts come from the department itself and sometimes from the university's graduate school. I suggest having one or two "base" essays then tweaking them for each school. Sometimes a word/page limit is specified but if it's not, around 2 pages/1000 words is pretty reasonable.

Transcript. Some accept unofficial but some require official but generally not an unsealed one. I ordered myself one official transcript and sent it to multiple schools instead of paying for them to be sent to each school during the application process.

Resume or CV: Most ask for either a CV or is fine with either, in which case I give them my CV. I sent more or less the same one everywhere.

Some other notes

Yes, ask for application waivers. Just be polite about it.

Your goals for your essays are primarily to show that you're interested in math and math research and are capable of like…. writing things that make sense

Do not start out an essay with either "I loved math since I was little" or "I actually didn't like math when I was young" or any variations of those. (I had one essay that started with a mildly humourous anecdote from undergrad combinatorics and another that talked about how my undergrad department has greatly affected me).

You should 100% expect to get a tuition waiver and living stipend as part of a TA fellowship (or more rarely, an research fellowship) as part of your offer of acceptance for a math PhD program (pure or applied). Health insurance is also frequently part of the package. This is not true of masters programs unfortunately.

How schools do waitlists depend wildly though most don't have super long ones like prestigious undergrads do. If you're still interested in a place you're waitlisted at, follow their instructions to confirm your placement on the waitlist then wait until April before following up again, expressing your continued interest and asking for an update. You might even want to wait until around the common deadline, April 15th. The number of people who declined before April is just really really low so nothing really happens until then.