#i want to write more for my one piece story

[eclipixels]

Our past?

Sylus x Reader

Content: After discovering your past life with Sylus and his promise to restore your memories, you find yourself eager to hear the stories of your past from him.

Warnings: : slight angst if you squint your eyes

[2,118 words]

A/N: Sylus’s myth has been weighing on my mind, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. Forbidden love?? Like?? Ugh. I had to write something to make it hurt less :’).

      After discovering the truth about your past life, a storm of emotions had raged within you. Anger, betrayal, disbelief. How could Sylus have kept something so monumental from you? How could he have known and simply chosen not to tell you? The argument that followed had been fierce, but in the end, he relented, promising to restore your lost memories tomorrow morning. Now, the fire had dimmed, replaced by a quiet restlessness you couldn't shake.

      “Won’t you at least come to bed, darling?” Sylus murmured, his voice softer than usual, his sharp eyes now wide and pleading. You exhaled, exasperated yet unable to deny him. With a tired sigh, you crawled over, settling on top of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.

      "Sylus?"

      "Hm?"

      "Tell me about our past," you whispered. He had promised to return your memories tomorrow, but waiting felt unbearable. The unknown loomed too heavily over you, making it impossible to sleep.

      He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Impatient, aren’t you? Can’t even wait until tomorrow?"

      "You’re one to talk about being greedy," you huffed, shifting slightly against him.

      “I know,” he admitted, the grin that spread across his lips filled with something more than amusement, something nostalgic, as if the weight of the past he had once tried to forget was now something he wanted to remember.

      He studied you for a moment before continuing, “Did you know you were a princess, princess?” His smirk widened at his own joke, reveling in the play on words.

      You rolled your eyes, but your curiosity overpowered your exasperation. "A princess?"

      "Ivory City," he said, watching for recognition in your gaze. "They accused you of being a sorcerror because you took pity and sympathy on my kind, so they cast you out."

      "How primitive," you muttered, unimpressed by the cruelty of a kingdom you barely remembered.

      "Indeed," he agreed, his tone laced with a quiet sort of amusement. "They feared what they couldn't understand."

      A brief silence stretched between you before he added, “You also gave me my name, but I already told you that.”

      You sighed, tilting your head slightly. "You still haven’t taught me how to pronounce your actual name." It was something you had discovered earlier, before the argument, before the flood of fragmented memories revealed pieces of his dragon life with you in Philos.

      Sylus hummed, clearly unbothered by the notion. “It’s irrelevant,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles against your back. “I like your version of my name better. Your claim on me.” His grin returned, sharper now, something possessive glinting behind his eyes. A name you gave him that he’s used ever since. Your lips parted slightly, heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words. You had claimed him once before, long ago, in another life. And now, in this one, you were beginning to do it all over again.

      Sylus smirked, his voice dropping into something teasing. “Did you also know that once, back when we still held nothing but disdain for each other, I wrapped my hand around your throat, and you—” He let out a short laugh, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You moaned.”

      You jolted upright, eyes wide. “I did what?!” you shrieked, horrified.

      His laughter only deepened, rich and unbothered. “It was certainly… unique,” he mused, tilting his head as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I’ve threatened plenty of people before, but never had anyone react quite like that.”

      Heat flared across your face as you groaned, burying yourself against his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

      “No, you don’t,” he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss against the top of your head.

      A moment of silence passed, the air between you settling into something softer, something steeped in nostalgia. “Most nights,” Sylus murmured, “we spent our time together under the moonlight.”

      You closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you through the fragments of a past you desperately wished to reclaim. “I can’t wait to get my memories back,” you hummed. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you all over again.”

      His fingers curled gently around your waist, holding you close. “There were times,” he continued, voice quieter now, “when you would see my true form, and I expected you to be afraid. I thought you’d run, that you’d look at me like I was a monster.” He paused, as if caught in the memory. “But you didn’t. Instead, you traced your much smaller hand over my scales and horns. You—” He swallowed. “You still loved me.”

      “How couldn’t I?” you whispered, pressing closer.

      Sylus exhaled, the tension in his body unraveling. “Back then, I didn’t know what love was,” he admitted. “You introduced me to that.”

      You lifted your head slightly, gazing up at him. “Really?”

      His lips curled into something almost reverent, something achingly fond. “Really.

      “That’s beautiful,” you murmured, voice soft with drowsiness.

      Sylus smiled faintly, fingers tracing idle patterns against your waist and thighs. “My favorite memory might be when I took you to that flower field,” he mused, pausing expectantly for your response.

      But you said nothing. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to glance down at you.

“Kitten, are you asleep?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing. A quiet snore escaped you. You weren’t asleep, but he didn’t have to know that.

      His chest rose and fell with a slow inhale before he continued anyway, his voice dipping into something raw.

      “The reason why…” he started, then hesitated. For once, the words didn’t come so easily. “The reason why I withheld these memories and this information from you was because I knew it would break you.”

      A heavy silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

      “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that we have half of our souls in each other.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin. That much, you had already discovered. The truth that the two of you were irreversibly connected, bound by something ancient and inescapable.

      His next words came quieter, almost as if he didn’t want to admit them out loud. “But I just… I couldn’t let you know that we were destined for death.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “It was greedy of me. I wanted you all to myself, even if it meant keeping the truth from you. But the curse of a dragon’s beloved is to die. And you—” His voice wavered, the weight of his confession nearly unbearable. “You were destined to kill me, as my archenemy.”

      His breath hitched, and he let his eyes fall shut. “I didn’t want you to know that,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I realized… it’s not just my story. It’s yours too. And you deserve to know.”

      The words hung in the air between you, fragile and aching. His throat worked as he tried to steady himself, but his voice still cracked, betraying the turmoil he had tried so hard to suppress. Still, you didn’t move, didn’t respond. But your fingers twitched ever so slightly against his chest.

      You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the warm tears spilled onto Sylus’s chest. They fell silently, one after another, pooling against his skin like echoes of a grief you weren’t prepared to feel.

      “Sweetheart?” Sylus called out, his voice laced with concern. His arms tightened slightly around you. “Are you alright?”

      “It hurts,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. “Why was our story so sad?”

      He exhaled, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I don’t know, my love,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”

      A shuddering breath left you as you stared at the space between you, the past pressing in on your chest like an unbearable weight. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

      Sylus stilled for a moment before letting out a small, knowing sigh. He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to your lashes. “Sweetie, that’s all in the past for a reason,” he murmured. “None of that destiny, archnemesis, dragons-destroying-cities, royalty-and-war bullshit matters here.” He smirked slightly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe the part about our souls being tied for eternity, but I’m not complaining about that part.”

      You sniffled, staring up at him with a wobbly frown.

      “Oh, and wanderers,” he added, scowling. “That part I do complain about.”

      You huffed a small laugh despite yourself, but your expression quickly turned serious again. “You didn’t answer my question, though,” you said, eyes searching his. “Did I hurt you?”

      Sylus hesitated. “Well…”

      “Stop it. Just tell me.”

      A sigh, followed by a lopsided, almost sheepish grin. “Maybe you stabbed me.”

      Your mouth fell open. “Maybe?”

      “But it wasn’t entirely on purpose,” he continued hastily. “Not out of your own volition. In fact, you didn’t want to kill me at all. That’s why you chose to tie our souls together instead.” He pulled your leg up to wrap around him tighter. “You chose to save me instead of killing me. Our souls became bound, incapable of betraying each other.”

      “Incapable of betraying each other?” you echoed, brows furrowing before your expression morphed into something accusatory. “Oh, really? Then what about that time you ate my sandwich I was saving for later?”

      Sylus blinked. “Uh—”

      “Actually, no. You didn’t even eat it yourself,” you fumed. “You gave it to Mephisto. A mechanical bird. I don’t even know if he can digest organic material!”

      “So feisty,” Sylus murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Lifetimes of love, and yet, you’re still a brat.”

      “Hey!” You gasped, feigning offense, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

      He only chuckled, shaking his head. Then, his expression turned mischievous as he pointed a finger at you accusingly. “But, you do realize—I can never die unless you’re the one who kills me.”

      You smirked, crossing your arms. “Oh, I was so smart for doing that.”

      Sylus let out a full-bodied laugh, the sound warm and rich with something inexplicably fond.

      “What?” You tilted your head, watching the way his grin widened.

      “Isn’t it crazy?” he said, voice quieter now, as if he was still wrapping his mind around it himself. “Lifetimes of love… You’ve always been my girl.”

      Something about the way he said it made your chest ache in the most bittersweet way. This love of yours, it felt like it was something you’re not allowed to have. You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I still can’t believe you’re a dragon.”

      “What?” He snorted. “You thought the horns were just for decoration?”

      You groaned sleepily. “In my defense, you don’t always make them visible.”

      Sylus smirked. “Would you like me to keep them out more often, then? Just for you?”

      “Sylus.” You whimpered, burying your face against him.

      His amusement faded as concern flickered across his features. “You’re still upset?”

      “I don’t want to kill you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

      Sylus exhaled, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines against your back. “Love,” he murmured, “like I said, you won’t. This is our timeline.”

      “But I want you in every timeline,” you confessed, curling closer, as if holding onto him tighter could somehow tether your souls together even more. “Every life.”

      Sylus stilled. His fingers stopped their tracing. His breath hitched just slightly. Then, with a heavy sigh, he picked up your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. His lips were warm, his touch reverent.

      “I…” He hesitated.

      Sylus never made promises lightly. He didn’t want to promise you something he couldn’t keep. But then, he thought about it. About how he had already overturned fate before. How he and you both had defied instinct, rewritten the path carved for each other. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t just want your soul. You didn’t just want his eye. You were both greedy, greedy creatures. You wanted to consume each other, bones and all. In love. In deep, all-consuming love.

      And maybe he could make that happen.

      He would need a powerful enough sorcerer. Someone who still wielded magic strong enough to rewrite the very laws of existence. He could find one. He would find one. He would make sure it was just you and him, forever. Not killing each other. Not dying. That would make you immortal, too.

      He could have you forever.

      Now, wasn’t that greedy?

      “I promise,” he finally whispered, sealing his vow with another kiss against your palm, not noticing the soft glow that wrapped itself around you both as you involuntarily resonated.

[bitchinbarzal]

Gossip | M Boldy

summary: you can’t date a reporter when you’re an athlete without some fallout.

-

Matt knew this was going to be a problem from the second he introduced you to his teammates.

It was in the way Brock’s easygoing smile turned stiff, how Kirill’s laughter quieted when you walked into the room, how Jake and Rossi exchanged wary glances behind your back. It wasn’t personal—at least, not entirely. It was about your job.

You were a writer for The Hockey Insider, an outlet notorious for gossip pieces that followed the team like a shadow. Kirill had been caught in a dating rumor that nearly wrecked his relationship. Jake’s contract negotiations had been spun into a fabricated feud with management. Rossi had once been accused of partying too hard—never mind that the supposed “wild night out” had actually been his mom’s birthday dinner.

So, when you stepped into their world, there was an unspoken question hanging in the air: Can she be trusted?

Matt had defended you — of course he had. He knew you. He knew the way you analyzed plays more than drama, how you hated the clickbait articles as much as they did. He knew you didn’t write that kind of stuff.

But the doubt still lingered.

And then he saw the text.

It wasn’t like he had meant to snoop. He was trying to find a text from himself he’d sent you important information about.

Boss: We need something on Brock. Preferably messy. Let me know what you’ve got.

Matt felt his stomach drop.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and a moment later, you walked into the room, fresh out of the shower. Your hair was damp, your skin still flushed from the heat, and you were wearing one of his old Wild hoodies — one you’d stolen months ago and never gave back.

You looked at ease, content.

Matt had never felt more off-balance.

“You need something on Brock?” His voice came out sharper than intended.

You blinked, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

Matt turned your phone screen toward you. “Your boss. Looking for dirt on Brock.”

Your body went rigid.

Matt scoffed, shoving the phone onto the counter. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What I think,” he repeated, voice rising, “is that my teammates were right to be on edge around you.”

You flinched, hurt flashing across your face. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been defending you for months. Saying you don’t write that shit, that you wouldn’t sell us out. And now you’re sitting on a story about one of my teammates?”

You exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in your eyes. “I didn’t write anything.”

“But you were going to.”

“No,” you snapped. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why does your boss think you have something?”

Silence.

Just for a second. But it was enough.

Matt shook his head, stepping back like he didn’t even want to be near you. “Unbelievable.”

“That’s what they do, Matt,” you said finally, voice tight.

“They assume I’m sitting on something because I have access. Because I’m around you. Around them.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “And what? You just ignore them? How long before you give in?”

That’s when you laughed.

It wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter, exhausted.

“Give in?” you echoed, shaking your head. Then you met his eyes, and for the first time, you looked tired.

Defeated, you mumbled “Matt, I quit.”

The words knocked the wind out of him.

“What?”

“I quit,” you repeated, voice thick with emotion. “Because I knew this would happen. I knew they’d want me to sell you out. And I couldn’t, I wouldn’t do that. Not to you, not to Brock, not to any of them.”

Matt felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath him.

“You—” He swallowed hard “You didn’t tell me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to find something else first. I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

“But it was because of me,” Matt said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

Matt dragged a hand down his face. He had spent so much time worrying about whether you would betray him that he hadn’t stopped to consider the sacrifices you had already made.

“I’m sorry” he said, voice softer now. “I should’ve trusted you”

You exhaled slowly, staring down at your phone like it physically pained you. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You should’ve.”

And with that, you turned, grabbed your phone off the counter, and walked out the door.

Matt didn’t stop you.

He wasn’t sure he had the right to.

You and Matt didn’t talk for weeks.

At first, he told himself it was for the best. You had fought, you had left, and maybe that was how things were supposed to end. But that didn’t stop him from noticing the silence. No more texts, no more calls. No more waiting for you after games, no more waking up to you stealing his hoodies.

It was stupid how much he missed you.

The guys didn’t bring you up much—not after that night when you stormed out—but Matt caught the way Brock, Kirill, Jake, and Rossi sometimes looked at him like they wanted to say something. Like they knew.

Still, he pushed it aside. Focused on hockey.

The team was in the thick of the playoff race, every game crucial. After a big win, the locker room was buzzing, laughter bouncing off the walls as guys peeled off their gear.

“Hey, check this out,” Rossi said from across the room, holding up his phone. “Hockey Weekly just put out a piece on us.”

Kirill scoffed. “If it’s that one guy again, I don’t care.”

“No, no,” Rossi said, scrolling. “This one’s actually good.” He cleared his throat and started reading:

“The Minnesota Wild aren’t just a team fighting for a playoff spot—they’re a team built on chemistry, resilience, and a camaraderie that’s impossible to fake. From Kirill Kaprizov’s dynamic playmaking to Brock Faber’s defensive reliability, from Matt Boldy’s quiet consistency to Marco Rossi’s relentless drive, this team has found a way to balance youth and experience in a way that just works.”

The guys hooted in approval.

“But beyond the stats and standings, what makes this team special is the belief they have in each other. Watch them on the ice, and you’ll see it. A team that doesn’t just play together, but plays for each other. A team that, if they keep this up, could be a real threat in the postseason.”

Rossi looked up. “Damn. Who wrote this?”

Jake leaned over, glancing at the byline. Then he froze.

Matt caught the shift in his expression immediately. “What?”

Jake turned his phone around so Matt could see the name at the top of the article.

Y/N L/N

The room went quiet.

Matt felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

He should’ve known. The writing, the insight—it was you. You had always talked about wanting to cover the game itself, not the drama. And now, even after everything, you had still found a way to do that.

And you had written about them.

Not gossip. Not rumors. Just a damn good article about their team. About the things that mattered.

Guilt settled like a weight in his chest.

“I thought you said she quit writing?” Brock said, raising an eyebrow.

Matt swallowed hard. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. Because, apparently, you hadn’t quit. You had just quit him.

“Dude,” Rossi said, shaking his head. “You gotta fix this.”

Matt sat there, staring at your name on the screen, heart pounding.

Yeah. He did.

[revna-writes]

Results of Writing Trade #2!

Trade with: @obstinatejules (actual living angel I think)

Results from the trade!

"To Build a Home" obstinatejules - Chapter 1 - Original Version revna-writes - Chapter 1 - Rewritten Version

"Le Academiae Artes Notoria" revna-writes - Chapter 1 - Original Version obstinatejules - Chapter 1 - Rewritten Version (wow)

overall thoughts

For one, wow, that was super fun. I'm honestly amazed by how well this entire experience lived up to my expectations lol. Part of that is definitely due to obstinatejules being so cool, she was super fun to write with and bounce ideas off of. Plus, I got great material to work with :)

But also, fun aside, it was so helpful??

Writing skills I grew doing this:

Literary analysis and reflection: I spent a long time reading the original and taking notes on a lot of stuff: the characters, their characterization, the plot points, what the piece means, what its themes are, what emotions it is exploring and how, unique aspects of the way it is written, and, 'what unique aspects can I introduce to accentuate and build on this foundation?'

Slice of life / fluff / fanfic genres: I don't have a lot of experience in these worlds, and It was really cool learning about specific phrases, tropes, ways of description, etc., and how to combine them to really make the piece live up to its genre

2nd Person Perspective: very new for me. It has its own considerations- for example, it's much more intimate for the reader, which is both its greatest strength and weakness.

Present tense: as a limited 3rd person past tense girlie, swapping to present tense was hard!! But also really interesting. There really are tense-specific ways to express things that do not work in past tense, and it was fun playing around with those & learning how to make present tense work for me. There is absolutely a different feel to the writing, and as steeped in past tense as I am, I didn't really realize it could make a big difference. I'm excited for the day when I choose to make a story present tense as an artistic choice because of the things unique to it.

Communication skills: Throughout this process with the chapter trades, you know, I'm talking to a bunch of different people with a bunch of different backgrounds, across multiple different generations. So, I'm having to figure out ways for each person to best connect with them, assess our expectations for what's going down, and then also our timeframe, what chapters we want to trade, and then any questions we may have about each other's piece. It's been really good to get me out of my shell, and also, it's helped me relax a little bit and communicate 'more effectively'.

There's also some more nebulous things, like, being intimately introduced to the way someone else writes fundamentally shifts the way I write ever so slightly. I am introduced to brand new ideas, new narrative techniques, new word choices for the same ideas and emotions, and I'm introduced to these in a way that is so much different than how I would see them as a reader.

Anyway, that's enough rambling from me lol.

Writing Trade!!

Hear ye, hear ye, it's time for a writing trade!

How It Works

You DM me, "I'd like to trade!" (or anything else that indicates you want to participate!)

We exchange chapters. I send you a link to mine, you send me a link to yours, we read each other's chapter.

We each re-write the other's chapter! In our own style, with our own approach, but hitting all the same plot points with the same characters.

We exchange the re-written chapters!

Okay but what's the point?

It's a great way to develop your skills!

You get to see how someone else would handle the same story!

You get to share and talk about your story (critically!!) with another author!!

We get to have fun together!! with writing!! (:o?!?!)

I want to do this with someone so BAD, hfdgkjfngkfd!!!! Seriously y'all i am FIENDING to do some cute writing trades.

If you are interested, please DM me!

[novlr]

This may seem like a weird question, but any tips for writing an alcoholic character?

She's the queen of a rather unstable kingdom in a Graeco-Roman inspired fantasy setting and uses wine to cope with stress caused by the political circus and personal things, and her husband and daughter often criticise her unhealthy drinking habits:

Using topics like alcoholism for a character can present a relatable–and flawed–person for readers to sympathize with, if not connect with. Yet do be cautious when writing on the topic. Alcoholism, as well as other topics on addiction and/or harmful habits, can grow very sensitive very quickly. How far you dive into this topic should depend on how relevant it is to your story and character(s).

It’s also important to consider how you address the topic as well. For example, there’s a major difference between a writer showcasing alcoholism with an open-minded and empathetic perspective versus a writer who is close-minded and reveals shallow portrayals of an alcoholic simply being “bad.” Yes, while these addictions cause harm to all involved (and by no means should be “downplayed”), remember that alcoholism is a mental health disorder. There is so much more at play than just craving alcohol and being affected by the intoxication. And that’s what we will touch on in this post.

For the sake of providing a potential content warning for this post, know that I will cover alcoholism and how it affects emotional and physical reactions. We will discuss internal thoughts, as well as external actions, from both the alcoholic character and the surrounding characters for the sake of learning how to write them in narrative.

Also, as a minor disclaimer, I will note that I am not a psychological professional on the topic. However, I am someone from a family affected by generations of alcoholism and will use some personal experiences for the purpose of discussing how to write about alcoholism, from habits I’ve seen from family members to how I and others have reacted to it.

With all that out of the way, let’s get started!

Internal thoughts

If you’ve ever chatted with me about writing or read other posts of mine in the Novlr Reading Room, you know I love diving into the “why” behind everything. Why someone writes and why a character has this motive are just a few examples. And when it comes to addictions, like alcoholism, you want to get into the why behind that as well.

Because it’s not only the alcohol that creates the addiction, right? There still has to be a reason why the person starts the habit and why they want the outcome that results from the habit. This is how a habit turns into an addiction.

Based on the question prompting this post, there’s already a hint of that “why.” The character is stressed by the politics in her setting. So you want to ask why this person is turning to alcoholism and/or what they want out of it. 

For example, control and escapism are big desires that can drive someone to drinking. In most cases, those reasons are why people prefer alcohol as the depressant to lean on after a bad day. That lighter feeling of escapism, at the very least, is enough to keep wanting to drink more, so someone always feels that way. It’s a way for them not to feel stressed or unhappy.

On top of that, destructive habits like alcoholism will usually display and exaggerate an insecurity the person has. This is the case with one of my family members. They grew up in a toxic household that demanded they go to school for a high-paying job. The short story: that didn’t work, and their sister went through with the high-paying job instead. This (among many other things in their life) ultimately created a setting for them to feel and/or not be seen as “worthy enough” by their family.

Now, psychologically, there’s a lot more about my family member to potentially unearth here, but even this one piece of backstory is already a wealth of inspiration for writing a character turning to alcoholism. It touches on personal events in their life and/or their personal flaws. And we’ll stick to that one piece for the purpose of this post.

Let’s say you have a character that went through the same scenario as my family member. Someone who doesn’t feel worthy around their friends and family will want that remedied, and that commonly leads to attention-seeking, people-pleasing, and/or the desire for control.

And there are flavors to this. Maybe someone is deemed “unworthy” because they’re too immature. And what’s seemingly more “mature” in society than drinking? Then, when they want to prove they can handle it, they keep drinking and ignore the inebriation. Because now it’s a competition with themself to impress others. And now, they have the potential start of an addiction. But they don’t see it that way. They simply see it as a means for control over what bothers them and see an opportunity to fix that issue.

See how that worked?

So if the character, like the queen in the question of this post, has the stress of ruling and turns to alcohol, there’s plenty of character interiority in there to dive into regarding seeking control and/or escapism, at the very least. 

Again, ask why. Why is alcoholism the answer to meet the character’s needs, and why do those needs exist in the first place for your character? And after all that, we can dive into how the consequences of alcoholism become external actions based on those internal “whys.”

External actions

So, we’ve answered the “why” behind alcoholism for a character and how it makes them feel. Now we can discuss how the interiority and insecurities show on the outside as external actions.

I mentioned my family member with their insecurity of feeling unworthy, and that being one reason for turning to alcohol for control and impressing others. If there’s one thing that people who seek attention, control, and are people-pleasing want, it’s to be right. It’s to be the go-to person. It’s to be the best person in the room.

Turning to alcohol can help someone feel more confident, daring, and/or adamant about being seen as that person. But on the outside, that’s not what we see at all, especially when they drink to the point of inebriation. What my family member thinks of has having a civil debate with others or making a point important to them is actually explosive behavior to those experiencing it.

When someone’s senses are dulled from intoxication, and said intoxication amplifies the desire to be seen as worthy and in control, the person drinking will end up doing almost anything to get what they want. This, at least, is my experience. And that ends up becoming aggression for some, even leading to violence. Especially if someone never grew up with a proper outlet or learned how to properly express themselves.

This is why I started this post by discussing the internal thoughts of a character. Their self-esteem was already low before drinking. And drinking to fix that self-esteem now becomes a method of defense. More often than not, that leaves everyon else, reacting in return. Which leads to our next topic:

The internal thoughts of family and friends

As you may know, it’s not just the alcoholic themself affected by the habit of drinking. It affects those around them too.

If you’re around someone who exhibits explosive behavior, is prone to yelling, and displays unpredictable behavior, what would your reaction be?

A person in this situation, especially a child, is often left with the desire to get away from the perceived threat and protect themself. There may be other reactions, like wanting to end the threat (i.e. standing up for themself), but that is dependent on an individual’s personality and their way of facing threats. As someone who experienced this, I can confirm the need for safety. Seeing an unpredictable, threatening person mostly leads to feelings of fear and helplessness, and thus, a need to hide and feel safe again.

Ultimately, when it comes to your characters around alcoholism, ask yourself how they would respond emotionally via their core personalities against a threatening situation like this. Is it wrong for them to be right out of principle? Is it not worth confronting because trying to fix the problem is hopeless? Or is there too much fear behind what happens, and the character must heed their flight instincts?

Thus, those emotions lead to how the characters around the alcoholic will react externally.

The external actions of family and friends

Based on the emotional examples above, there are several ways a character can react externally around an alcoholic. Some people will confront them, regardless of their explosive behavior, and some will quietly hide and wait for it all to pass by. And some will be afraid enough of the situation to leave and never return to that person’s side.

It all depends on the character, their age or situation, their core values as a person, and their relationship with the alcoholic.

But, all in all, friends and family react one of three ways: address it (to the point of intervention), accept it and/or ignore it, or detach completely. And, from there, it can be a snowball effect of action, reaction, and consequences between the characters.

So, if you have an alcoholic character ruling a country, and you’re uncertain how those around them would react, start with their core personalities and how they would emotionally respond to threats (internal thoughts), and how those thoughts would lead to certain reactions to that character (external reactions). And don’t be afraid to dive deep into a character’s interiority and development here to get as detailed as you can! 

How far do you want to go with this?

As you can see, writing a destructive addiction like alcoholism boils down to why the character resorts to the addiction, how that addiction affects them based on their core beliefs and personality, and how that transformation affects people around them internally and externally.

Once again, keep in mind how relevant this is to your story and character. If alcoholism is one of the primary topics you want to address with an adult novel, then you can go as far into this topic as deemed necessary.

However, if alcoholism is more involved with a side character in a young adult or middle-grade story (i.e. the main character’s parent that don’t show up in every chapter), and it isn’t a major part of the plot or story, then I would caution against touching this subject on a deep level. You can still have a teenage character yearn for parental love because of how alcoholism affects that character’s internal thoughts and emotions and how the alcoholic parent is never around. But if the external plot focuses on something else —like using magic to save the world—that is what takes precedence.

And there you have it! This is mostly a surface-level dive into the topic with examples of personal experiences. I reiterate that I am not a psychological professional in the industry, so if you are looking to dive further into the topic, then I recommend more research involving articles from experts in studies/facilities regarding alcoholism (or other addictions), as well as testimonials for further experiences from others. I’ve popped some resources that have helped me below:

Resources

Cleveland Clinic: Alcohol Use Disorder

Mayo Clinic: Alcohol Use Disorder

NIAAA: Alcohol Facts and Statistics

SAMHSA: Children Living with Parents Who Have a Substance Use Disorder (A Study)

answered by Lindsay Sfara

[novacorpsrecruit]

@skidspace thank you for sharing this lovely piece!!! Oh my god this is so good!!!

Context: missing scene from part 3 of this

———

Hello! I was the anon that mentioned writing an extra scene involving Trick. I ended up adding more to it as I started writing and editing. Again I’m not much of an author so I apologize for any mistakes or confusing parts but I hope you enjoy!

Thanks again for the wonderful story that inspired this

~~~~~~

Steve had to wipe his eyes before he dared to leave the bathroom.

Eddie’s letter was… a lot to take in. He’d be lying if he said the apology didn’t feel good. Hell he’s been yearning for one ever since that last night he saw Eddie.

Even so, it didn’t make that initial hurt go away. Nothing had. Not the time away, not the idea of moving on. Nothing could fill the chasm that used to be filled with Eddie’s love. To know that Eddie was hurting to? It didn’t make him feel any better.

After what Steve deemed enough time to compose himself and not look like a total wreck in front of the customers, he carefully folded the letter back into his apron and left the bathroom. He must’ve been in there longer than he thought because Trick’s booth was now empty.

Steve sighed and thought to himself, he’s still on the clock so he might as well actually do his job. And went to go clear off the table.

As he stacked the dishes and cup a with practiced ease, Steve noticed something amongst the mess. It was a napkin with the words “Rock on, Steve!” written in the corner, and crudely drawn doodle of a hand making the devil horns sign in black ink. Next to the napkin were a few crumpled bills and some change, plenty to cover the cost of Trick’s meal and a tip.

Steve felt his eyes start to well up again. Dammit, he can’t handle this much emotional whiplash in just one 5-hour shift. First Eddie’s letter and now a guy he honestly thought hated his guys was taking the time to apologize and be genuinely kind to him.

Steve set the dishes back on the table and just stared at the napkin note, but he was taken out of his spiral by a loud “Are you kidding me?!” coming from the front of the diner followed by the sound of someone slapping glass.

He peaked around the corner of the booth only to see none other than Trick staring at the ancient pinball machine they kept in the waiting area like it had just insulted his mother.

Steve however, couldn’t help but laugh, which caused Trick to finally break eye contact with the offending contraption and whip his head around. At first, he had a nasty scowl on his face that Steve was SURE many a jock at Tricks own high school had experienced. But once he saw that it was Steve and realized the laugh wasn’t a mocking one, his scowl turned into a cheeky smirk with too much teeth showing, but was friendly nonetheless.

He turned and fully faced Steve.

“Your machine is busted, dude.” He said, slapping the glass top of the pinball machine once again.

“I don’t know man,” Steve surprised himself with how easy he found a joke tone to his words, “I’ve seen a few 10 year olds absolutely destroy the high score on that thing. I think this is just a user issue.”

“Oh fuck off.” Trick’s smile grew wider with the jest, only to be followed by someone loudly clearing their throat. Steve and Trick both turned their heads to see Jenny with her arms crossed and brows furrowed, gaze pinned on Trick.

The other man’s face fell from jovial to a harden nonchalance. Steve recognized the change all too well from when people would give Eddie a hard time in public back home. Like Eddie, the shift in Trick looked well-practiced.

Trick put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and cleared his throat, looking back at Steve once more. “I should probably get going, but uh- could I ask you something first?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is Eddie doing okay?”

Steve felt a pit form in his stomach at the question. He really didn’t want to air out everything that happened between him and Eddie with a guy he had JUST gotten on friendly terms with.

“W-what do you mean?” He settled on.

Trick gestured up towards his face.

“It’s just that no one has seen him at a party since the night he rocked my shiiii-“ his eyes flick over to where Jenny was still glaring, “I mean, since he called me out for how we were treating you.”

“I, um,” Steve’s hand reflexively went to the letter in his apron, “I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him in…a while.”

Something in how Steve had said that must’ve tipped Trick off to the situation, even just a little. His face took on a concerned look.

“Oh. Well, if you see him or talk to him soon, can you tell him I’m sorry?”

“For what?”

“For driving him away too. Even without the whole ‘boyfriend thing’, for people like us - people like Eddie - it’s hard to find a place that will accept you for who you are, let alone make you feel welcomed. We shouldn’t have made him feel like he had to be one thing or that he had to hide an important part of his life.”

Steve was silent , standing there contemplating the potential of all that might have happened to Eddie since he walked out of their apartment and never came back. Putting the pieces he had together, it seemed that Eddie had not only punched one of his cool new metal friends for Steve’s sake, but had completely stopped hanging out with his all of his cool new metal friends after they bad mouthed Steve to Eddie’s face. Steve was always under the impression that Eddie had known about the ridicule Trick and his friends subjected him to. But he either just didn’t know the severity of it all, or he didn’t care enough to come to Steve’s defense.

Steve was starting to think that was wrong.

Why didn’t Eddie say any of this in his letter? Would it have made the situation better? Would Steve have believed him if he hasn’t just had this whole eye opening apology and conversation with Trick?

The thought threatened to tip his emotions over the edge again so he shook his head a bit, desperate to clear his thoughts

He finally replied, “I’ll tell him.”

Some of Trick’s toothy smile retuned to his face. “Thanks Steve.” He then threw up the devil horns with his right hand and turned to leave.

As he walked away, Trick turned his head one last time to say “I get it if you don’t wanna come back, but I hope I’ll see you around.”

The bell above the door jingled as it was opened, then closed, and then Trick was gone.

-

Steve had to take a few deep breathes before he went back and finished clearing out the booth. Upon returning to behind the counter, Jenny slid up to him with her arms crossed again.

“God, I thought he’d never leave. That guy didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

Steve didn’t mean to, but a bitter tone slips into his voice.

“No, Jenny. He didn’t.”

Jenny huffed.

“Good, cuz you never know with those types. They always look like they’re gonna-“

“Just because he looks mean and scary doesn’t mean that’s how he really is! You can’t just judge people like that Jenny!” Steve snapped and instantly felt bad for it. The wide-eyed look Jenny was giving him only made it worse.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“No, you’re right. I mean, yeah the yelling was a little rude, but I shouldn’t judge someone just by how they look or dress,” Jenny shrugged, “I mean just look at Rob. He dresses like a dorky pencil pusher who wouldn’t hurt a fly but you and I both know he packs the meanest left hook when the day drunks get too handsy.”

Steve couldn’t help but let out a loud belly laugh at that. God, he really does love working a shift with Jenny.

-

Steve normally took the bus back to Robin’s dorm after work, but the weather was nice enough and his head was full enough that he decided he needed the walk. There were just too many things that happened today he had to work through.

First there was Eddie’s letter and apology, then Trick’s appearance and apology. Those two things alone were enough for one day. But there was also something else. Something Trick said combine with how he acted, how others had acted towards him, that Steve couldn’t get out of his mind.

“For people like Eddie, it’s hard to find a place that accepts you for who you are, let alone makes you feel welcomed.”

Now Steve knew that most of the crowds he ran with back in Hawkins couldn’t be counted as good friends. But he never entered a group of people and felt unwelcomed. He didn’t have people scoff at him or shuffle away when he entered a room. The only time he felt truly ostracized in high school was the time between Billy Hargrove showing up and meeting Robin after graduation. And even then he may not have been welcomed in his old social circles, but when he walked into a room his presence was at least accepted. After graduation most people he knew stopped caring about the petty high school bullshit anyway, save for Billy himself and a select few of his crownies. He had real friends by then. And eventually, he had Eddie.

Eddie who had always been the one that people would stare at like he was going to sacrifice their dogs to Satan at any minute.

Eddie who knew that there wasn’t a place for outcasts like him, so he MADE a place where other kids could feel safe.

Steve thought back on that first day walking into school after Billy had fully deposed him from his title of King Steve. He had felt hundreds of eyes on him as he walked down the hallway, but at the same time he had never felt more alone.

Steve now wondered if that was the feeling Eddie had dealt with his whole life while living in Hawkins.

The idea made him feel…different about Eddie’s actions these past couple months.

Of course, those actions still caused hurt. And after many late-night tearful discussions with Robin, Steve knew he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, that he had deserved better.

But…

But maybe Eddie hadn’t done it because he was ashamed of Steve, or because he didn’t care about how Steve felt.

Maybe…maybe Eddie just couldn’t believe he had found a place that welcomed him because of who he was, not despite it.

He had told Steve as much about their own relationship after they started officially dating. Eddie joked that he couldn’t believe his interests and quirks were what Steve called positives instead of dealbreakers. Steve had laughed along with him at the time. Now the thought broke his heart.

Steve was tired of things breaking his heart. He was tired of licking his wounds, and he was tired of hiding in Robin’s dorm.

Steve had changed his mind about walking. He located the nearest bus stop.

After all, his and Eddie’s apartment was on the other side of town.

Steve had a letter he needed to respond to in person.

[charmwasjess]

AHEM. Dooku for 2/3 and 18, 25? Or dealer's choice? Anything you like 👀👀👀👀👀

OH HEY FRIEND :D Thank you so much!!! I answered the first two here <3 <3 but I kind of went wide with 25 so I pulled in some dealer's choice. :D Couldn't resist.

18 How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

It was so tempting to write you a Sifo-Dyas essay here. Please accept this coupon for one unhinged Sifo-Dyas manifesto, to be redeemed at a time of your choosing. <3

But today, I’m thinking about Mace and Dooku. God, there’s a part in that Shatterpoint novel where Mace obsesses over the fact that he could have killed Dooku on Geonosis - he could have gone for Dooku’s head instead of Jango’s, and how much death and suffering would he have saved? And the fact that he didn’t, he went after Jango, not because he didn’t realize the importance of that decision, but for the plain fact that he didn’t want to kill Dooku.

I think two things are so interesting here - of course, I love the way that Mace vouches so hard for Dooku in AotC, and I love all that implies about the personal relationship and respect as colleagues between them. All that it hints about Dooku's post-exit relationship with the Jedi Order.

I also think it’s interesting that the questions doesn't seem to be if Mace could kill Dooku. 

Here’s the part where I just pornographically imagine the duel between Mace’s Vaapad and Dooku’s Makashi and make uncomfortable noises. Arguably the two most aggressive forms, I think that fight would be insane. Mace is 6’2/1.88m, while Dooku has a few inches on him, Mace is younger and very powerfully built, so Dooku isn’t going to get his usual default “I can just reach further than you” advantages. Also, the way Mace dominates the terrain - I’m thinking of his duel in Sidious’s office - is going to be a big problem for our Count, who thrives on space in a fight and carefully balancing Makashi’s more delicate aspects with his ability to control the environment via the Force - ie, drop pieces of the architecture on his opponents heads. Cool fucking fight, cooler what-if. 

What does the Separatist movement he just started look like if Dooku is captive or martyred?

 25? What was your first impression of [Dooku]? How about now?

Well, my VERY first impression of this character was quite negative. Like many fans, I was enraged to find that we were getting this character and not Sith lady concept art (who would turn out to be future Asajj). Old man Sith?! Who used to be a Jedi? NO WE HAVE OLD MAN SITH WHO USED TO BE A JEDI AT HOME. 

But when I first became a Dooku maniac, I spent a lot of time working backwards trying to find the actual good person the monster used to be. What was the dramatic tipping point, how much was Qui-Gon’s death a factor, how could Dooku’s fall have been stopped or redeemed? 

Now the more fascinating part to me is how an actually good person becomes a monster. To me, that’s actually started to be more interesting than my old fascination with finding some big reason. I love the almost ordinary factors in his slide toward darkness - loneliness, depression, helplessness, the unwanted child compulsive urge to impress the wrong people, plain old sunk cost fallacy. He can be a surprisingly uncommitted Sith. He chains himself to Sidious. 

Someone once summed up my one true fix-it fic, “Five Days to Murder Sifo-Dyas,” as “Sifo-Dyas saves Dooku using only the power of his dick,” and while that's funny, they’re right. I really think any very simple change in Dooku’s story could have got him back on track. The fascinating fact is, it didn’t. Dooku's missed connection with his own humanity and goodness.  

Talking further about impressions of the character, although maybe this gets into 6. What's something you have in common with this character? territory, is that I’ve grown up with Dooku. Getting into Dooku when I was a kid and now liking the character as an adult, I realize I relate to him fundamentally differently now vs then.

Dooku and I don’t share a lot of personality traits, and I’m nowhere near his age in the films, but now I’ve been a teacher, I know how that rewires your brain. I know what it’s like to be a whole ass adult, but still meaningfully reckoning with your own ugly origin story. And god, am I fucking worried about the end of the world. His problems feel so much more real to me now.

I think both he and Sifo-Dyas have a core trait of “oh my god, what’s happening, why doesn’t everyone else SEE this, I have to do SOMETHING” driving their characters’ actions. And while I obviously don’t agree with either of their actions, I think that’s never been more relatable to me than now in 2025.

[soundwaveissuperior]

Okay so I'm been having this shit brewing in my head for a while and I keep coming back to it. I want to be like G1 but also a mix of other continuities as well Like TF Prime, TF One, Etc.

This is my shitty writing, I'm sorry if it's bad I just want to put it out there. If you have any ideas of what I should call this au please comment.

So Imagine this, we know that Megatron is like the leader of the decepticons right? He’s the founder so just like what if Orion becomes the leader of the decepticons instead?? Hey, it is a thought. I'm not saying he is the founder. Like how the normal story goes Orion pax the archivist meets Megatronus the gladiator, they talk about ideas and the future, Megatronous constructs the Decepticons, Orion joins him. ( I always liked the thought that Orion was one of the first decepticons of Megs group before becoming prime.)

They have two different perspectives. Orion thinks that they can peacefully have an audience with the Council/Senate (idk which one to use.) to take down and rebuild this terrible system they live by while Megatronous on the other hand thinks that they won’t listen to words and only by action (VIOLENCE!! ETC.) Btw of course this is an OpMeg so yeah they are together, there so trusting in one another and collaborate so well. Big Gladiator Mech and Lil Archivist bot

So to make this hurt, Orion was able to get an audience with the Council/Senate by the help of Sentinel “Prime”. And after convincing Megs to go see them to present his dream to dismantling the oppressive caste system. But of course the Naive Orion didn’t know that the Council/senate was using him to lure the Leader of the decepticons into a trap. They didn’t want him to spread anymore of these ‘ideas’.

(I want sentinel to be a part of this cuz I love and hate that bastard.)

Orion comes with Megatronus to speak with the senate and Sentinel.

(Okay so I'm still having Orion become prime but not like how the Senate will make him prime. Sentinel Took the matrix for himself but the Matrix doesn’t respond to him, so it is just a piece of junk without a Worthy Mech to attune to it. He still uses it as a way for publicity, it's not like citizens really knows how the Matrix works anyways.)

Orion is standing next to him as he backs up Megatronus words as he explains to them.

After this the Senate mocks him, Sentinel Truly explains to them why Lower caste should stay below them. They are born to serve the superior and die when useless, it is their Primus given purpose. Orion interrupts the Sentinel as he is shocked and angry at his words, “any bot can be more than what they're supposedly ‘born to do’.”

He uses Megatronus as an example, how he became more than a Miner, a Gladiator, he learned how to read and write, wrote literature that moved people, that anyone is the same at spark no matter their frame type. In a quick swift movement Sentinel who had enough of the words of this archivist went to silence him.

As he grabs him by the throat and throws him across the room. Megatronous tried to stop him but was then restrained by Guards. Sentinel tells them both how stupid they are. That what he says is right, that he is a prime and there not and the people will listen to him and not some nobodies. ( Basically Nuh uh Im prime so i get to do what ever da fuck i want , you poor ass bitches)(dude not even a fucken prime like brother shut the fuck up)

Orion coughs as he slowly rises up from the ground. He wobbles a bit before speaking. “You may be a prime but I won’t let you mock him or put anyone beneath you anymore. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. They are more than their function!” As he finishes that statement a low rumbling sound emits from Sentinel's chest and a low blue glow seeps out. The Matrix recognizes a worthy mech to attune to.

Sentinel baffles tires to keep the relic inside as he panics. The relic bursts out his chest as it makes its way towards Orion. He grits his teeths in pain as he orders the guards to terminate him to keep him from getting the relic. Shots fire as Orion tries to run, the Matrix stops and floats waiting for its chosen welder to claim it.

His left arm is shot off his body and he takes a hit at his knee. Orion cries out for Megatronous as he falls to the ground again. Megatronous finally gets out of the guard's hold, tearing them apart and runs towards him. Sentinel huffs in pain as he slowly walks towards Orion who is crawling pathetically to the Matrix.

With a blaster ready he points it towards the crawling mech. “ why couldn't you be a good lil mech just stay ignorant”. As he fires Megatronous throws Sentinel taking the shot. Orion shouted in horror. Megatronus collapses as smoke emits out a gaping hole near his spark.

He bleeds heavily as Orion crawls towards his injured beloved. A large servo goes up to cradle his face “ Please, don’t leave, I can't lose you!” Orion begs. Megatronous wipes his tears as he speaks “Do not cry my little one, I will not leave you. I will always be with you my spark”. Megatronous gives him one last kiss as his frame slowly grays. “ No Nononononono, no please my champion please” he cries.

Yeah again this is just an idea of how Megatronus is going to die, I might change it, who knows. So then Orion filled with resentment towards Sentinel. Like how D-16 became Megatron due anger building up inside as he was lied to slave away his entire life, for Orion it is more of him believing in something, that there is good in people and no need to lean towards violence but to be betrayed by the system that he relied on, he experience a violation of trust. Especially when the person he idolizes hurts the ones he loves. Pretty much breaks you and how you see the world around you.

I want Orion to feel terrible, just terrible, to blame himself (which isn’t new) for the death of his beloved champion, for killing the mech that people look up to, the mech that people put their faith in, the one who united everyone to strive for more.

After Megatronous dies, he takes the Matrix and feels a sense of duty to fulfill their dream as he feels the need to redeem himself. Then he'll step up and take the role as the leader of the decepticons, he believes he needs to bear this responsibility all to himself, to punish himself for his actions for leading him to his death due to his naivety.

If you have any questions don't be afraid to send an ask, I can elaborate if you like.

[live-laugh-lenney]

feeling ###nosy if you feel like telling what are your current works in progress 👀

i'll give you a few sneak peeks below of some current wips! hoping to get these out as soon as possible; some are just taking a bit longer than others to work through. <33

as well as getting locked in posted, i've got another lengthy arthurtv fic started off, in the early stages (and i've left a sneaky peek down below here) where the reader is george's best friend and falls in love with arthur so i'm excited for that one to take off!

a lot has been started so hopefully they'll be with you soon but enjoy these sneak peeks! the prompts are in bold and italics! x

George was having a terrible day (for any reason) and he’s down and gloomy about it, but the reader (a friend of his) takes care of him and makes sure he’s okay and long story short they fall in love and end up doing it on his couch while Arthur and Chris are away.

"don't be mad at me."

silence.

"yn, please."

he caught the lingering side-eye that she gave him and a smirk toyed at his lips.

"i'll get on my knees and beg if i have to," he states and the hollow of her cheek became a dimple as she chewed on the flesh inside her mouth, "oh, i see how it is. you want me to beg, don't you?"

the cushions move beside her and she's jostled around as he stands himself up from the sofa and, suddenly, a wave of cool air replaces the heat from his body that he emitted. the television being hidden behind his body and he adjusted the t-shirt that had ridden up his body and had become untucked from his jeans. and she really can't look away from him when he's kneeling before her.

she tries to keep the annoyed look on her face... except... it was hard when he knelt down in front of her, hands flat on her thighs, with a look in his eyes that held a lot more than apologies.

"please, stop ignoring me. i can't deal with it," he whispers, his eyes are level with hers and his orbs are a darker shade than normal, and she can sense her own mirroring his demeanour, "i need you to look at me, i need you to talk to me, i need you to stop being so annoyed with me because i'm an idiot."

his fingers were dangerously close to a zone that would have her like putty in his hands, melting into the cushions around her, completely at his disposal.

"jesus christ," he grumbles lowly, like he needed a pep-talk with his mind to confess what he needed to say, "i need you, yn."

please can you write something with arthurTV and reader going through a dry spell and putting an end to it !!

placing a hand on her back, he retracts it quick once he realised she didn't hear him enter the room, her whole body jumping at the sudden appearance of his touch.

"jesus, arthur."

"i'm so sorry," he laughs softly, setting her mug of tea down in an empty space on her desk and making sure it was away from any piece of paper that seemed important, "i thought you heard me come in."

"i had my music on," she says and slips her headphones down from her ears, letting them hang around her neck and she leant over to pause the song she was listening to, "honestly, i thought you'd have gone home."

"why?"

he moves to stand behind her so he could take in her desk; paper all over the place, scribbles and spider-maps on all of her ideas, chewed pen lids and ripped up post-it notes that weren't that important to her thought pattern.

"because i've been stuck in here all night with work on the brain," she frowns and he shakes his head, "you can go home, if you wanted. i'm not much fun right now and i wouldn't blame you."

"it's okay. i actually like being at your place as opposed to mine," he shrugs with a smile and presses a kiss to the top of her head, burying his nose into her hair as he laid both his hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze, "but you should take a break, lovie."

"i can't."

"of course you can," he says softly, digging his thumbs into the nape of her neck and giving her shoulders a soft massage, feeling how the tension building up in her muscles disappeared at his touch, "come on, at least come and have a little nap if you're planning on pulling an all-nighter."

"arthur-"

"or, at least let me help you relax," he drops his head and he whispers the words softly into her ear and she can't help but let her head drop back into a position that collided softly with the back of her chair, "i miss you."

"i can't," she grumbles softly and looks at the way his face twists up in a quick look of frustration that was soon masked with a look of upset, "i want to, i'd love to, but i need to get all this done by tomorrow and i'm so close to being finished."

his lips press against her forehead and she closes her eyes at the soft touch grazing her skin, hands coming up the rest upon his hands that were still resting upon her shoulders.

for the last few weeks, she had been busy with meeting after meeting with brand-deal after brand-deal, talking with companies who were interested in her being the face of their products. spain, france and amsterdam had been places she'd spent three or four nights in, as part of a gifted trip she'd been invited on, and london had definitely been somewhere she had been excited to get away from.

she felt guilty.

she had been to all these amazing places for such amazing deals and opportunities, with new friends she'd met on the way, but she hadn't spent time with arthur. she hadn't been with arthur. and it killed her not to celebrate her achievements with him in a way they normally would.

"i've been really horrid, haven't i?"

i'm currently working on a best friend george x boyfriend arthur fic, too so here's a little something from that one!

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we never met? If I never came out that day?” George wonders, “I think my life would be quite boring.”

“I think my life would be even more boring,” YN laughs softly, “you’d still have all of this. You’d still have the podcast, the Tiktok, the Youtube channel, because the charisma that you have would have brought you this kind of life, anyway. The only exciting thing about my life is the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“That’s rubbish,” he shakes his head and sets his mug down on the table, “I think, one way or another, we’d have still ended up in each other’s lives. Just, not as soon as it happened. We were bound to have met eventually, whether it was that day or not.”

The office door opening brings YN’s attention away from George and to the brunette standing in the doorway, wearing a shirt that was almost identical to her own, a nervous look on his face once he realised he’d interrupted something. George’s head turned to follow where her eyes were looking, hand coming up top to wave the other guy in, allowing him to come and join them.

“Arthur, this is YN.”

“Hi,” Arthur smiles sweetly, extending his arm and his hand in an opportunity to shake her hand. To which she gladly mirrored, extending her own arm towards him and wiggling her fingers, their palms connecting in a soft yet hearty shake, “George has told us all so much about you, already. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

YN couldn’t lie… Arthur was cute.

The handsome-kind of cute with the chiselled jawline hidden beneath the faintest amount of facial hair, shaggy brown hair with a fringe that covered his forehead, lips so pink and soft with brown eyes that held a lot of depth and emotion and she found it hard to look him in the eyes as she said her hello’s yet she found it difficult to look away from him when she finally gained the courage to make eye contact. 

“I mean, you’re all over George’s Instagram so it’s nice to finally meet the guy who he seems to enjoy the company of. I’m not sure whether I should be jealous or not,” YN teases him softly and Arthur lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head and looking to his feet, “I love your t-shirt, by the way. Considering we don’t know each other, we’re matching today.”

It took Arthur by surprise when she stood up and he saw, in full, the same Natural History Museum logo printed across her chest which matched the same one printed on his own chest, just on different coloured cotton. 

“I seem to attract nerds, don’t I?”

and i also have a prequel started for this fic here!

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

YN felt his warm breath wash over the skin of her neck, the smell of orange juice hanging in the air from the Sex On The Beach he had clasped in his hand with a soaked straw that had been chewed upon with each sip he sucked up, a shiver running down her spine as butterflies bounced around the inside of her stomach. His arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer so he didn’t have to shout or speak loudly over the music bumping in the air, her black flush to his front, her body tensing underneath his touch.

All night, the two of them couldn’t stay away from each other.

From the moment she had walked through the door to Simon Minter’s birthday party, later than the time she told them she would be there, he was attached to her side. The first one to say hello to her, the first one to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, the first one to offer her a seat in the booth and the first one to take her jacket and place it with his so it wouldn’t get lost. He sat beside her in the booth that himself, George, Chris and Arthur Hill had taken their place in for the night and he brought her her drinks throughout the evening, refusing to take one off of her when she offered to buy a round. He kept a close eye on her everytime she got up to dance with Talia or Faith, watching every movement she made when a song they loved came on because he didn’t want anything to happen to her, always weary of where she disappeared off to when he took his eyes off of her for a brief second… only to let out a sigh of relief when he saw her standing at the bar as she topped up her drink.

No one else existed in his world when she arrived. His conversation with George dwindled out when he watched her walk over to them, his attention moved from making Chris the butt of his jokes when she joined in the conversations, and his behaviour changed now that she was amongst the four of them. 

The sexual tension between the two of them almost suffocating.

“Now?”

He nods and drops his hand from where he had placed it upon her hip, slowly dragging it down her body and letting his fingers trail slowly down her thigh and just beneath the hem of her dress, and she felt her knees wanting to buckle under his soft touch.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.9

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 8 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

A few months had passed, and life had taken on a rhythm that felt entirely your own. Your album was finally finished—a collection of songs that weren’t just about heartbreak, but about rediscovering yourself. Writing it had been more than cathartic; it had been a revelation. Somewhere in the process, you’d unearthed pieces of yourself that had been buried beneath the weight of your relationship with Mark.

You had become you again.

And with that, life had opened up in ways you hadn’t expected. Nights out with friends, spontaneous trips, and even a few race weekends spent in the paddock. You’d like to say it was because of Lando’s relentless insistence—because, of course, he had been loud and borderline obnoxious about making sure you came—but the truth was, Oscar had been the reason you kept going back.

Oscar had been steady. Supportive. A quiet presence when you needed one, a voice of reason when you doubted yourself, and a source of laughter when you thought you’d forgotten how to enjoy things. He had given you something you hadn’t even realized you needed—peace. And somewhere along the way, your friendship had grown into something more. Not in the sense that there were declarations or crossed lines, but there was an undeniable warmth between you, a comfort that settled in your chest every time you were near him.

And now, here you were in Monaco, attending a tennis match because your manager had insisted that a public appearance would be good for promotion. It was a beautiful day, with the sun glinting off the pristine courts, and as you settled into your seat, it was hardly a surprise to see a few familiar faces in the crowd.

You waved at Lando, Charles, Pierre, and Oscar, who were on the other side of the court. A warm smile stretched across your face as they returned your greeting, and then you turned back to your manager, who was diligently explaining your media duties. 

You hadn’t been expecting it, but then again, in Monaco, nothing ever really was a surprise.

Oscar had noticed you before you had seen him. In fact, he wasn’t sure how anyone couldn’t notice you.

You stood out effortlessly, even in a crowd filled with celebrities and elite athletes. It wasn’t just the way the sun seemed to catch on the soft waves of your hair or how your white flowy dress swayed delicately with each step you took. It was the way you carried yourself—graceful but natural, like you weren’t trying to be seen, yet everyone’s eyes found you anyway.

And, of course, Oscar’s did too.

He should have looked away before anyone noticed, but the moment stretched too long, his gaze lingering on the way you laughed at something your manager had said. You looked… happy. And that was enough to make warmth spread through his chest.

Unfortunately, Lando definitely noticed.

“Oh, mate,” Lando grinned, nudging Oscar’s arm. “That was some serious staring.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” Pierre cut in with a smirk. “You looked like you were about to start reciting poetry or something.”

Charles chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “She does look beautiful today.”

Oscar shot him a glare, which only made Lando’s smirk grow. “Relax, mate. No one’s trying to steal your girl.”

“She’s not—” Oscar started, but the words died in his throat when, as if on cue, you finally noticed them.

You looked up, eyes scanning the stands, and then landed right on him. A radiant smile spread across your lips, and without hesitation, you lifted your hand in a wave.

Oscar barely had time to react before Lando dramatically waved back like an overexcited child. “She smiled at you, Oscar! Did you see that? She smiled at you!”

Pierre snickered. “And look—he’s blushing.”

Oscar scoffed, willing the warmth creeping up his neck to disappear. “I’m not blushing.”

“You totally are,” Charles said, sipping his drink casually. “You’ve got it bad.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the court. “Can we not do this right now?”

Lando, of course, ignored him. “You know, it’s painfully obvious there’s something going on between you two.”

“There isn’t,” Oscar muttered.

Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because most guys offer to be emotional support, drive girls home, order them breakfast, and stay up eating pizza with them just out of pure friendship.”

Oscar sighed. He should have known they wouldn’t let this go.

“I just wanted to be there for her,” he said finally. “She was going through something awful, and I didn’t want her to feel alone.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s in love with her would do,” Lando pointed out smugly.

Oscar turned to give him a pointed look. “She just got out of a relationship. A really bad one. I’m not going to be the guy who swoops in when she’s still healing.”

For the first time, Lando’s teasing expression softened. “Yeah, I get that.”

Pierre nodded. “You don’t want her to think you’re just some rebound.”

“It’s not just that,” Oscar admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I just… want her to be happy. No pressure, no expectations. Just her figuring out what she wants.”

Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what if what she wants is you?”

Oscar hesitated for just a second.

Then, you turned back toward the court, laughing at something your manager said, your eyes crinkling in a way that made his chest tighten.

He swallowed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

@justaf1girl

[moonlightpirate]

So much I need to do today and so much I want to do today and so little desire to do any of it

[rasangan-raspberry]

I'm gonna post the pages that I have finished, this comic is going to end up being pretty long i think.

(edit: just fixed some sizing things, this page didn't change much)

Next page >

[niklausie]

hehehe… coming to a dashboard near you this friday 🥰

[solarpunkani]

Psst, hey.

Hey you.

Come closer.

Listen to what I'm about to say good and well, alright?

[1singulargrape]

yuuji cannot use a chair to save his life

Sukuna was sitting on the floor, his upper arms resting on the couch behind him. His head was tilted to the side as it rested on his fist, and he lazily looked at the screen in front of him.

Yuuji was playing a video game, a "shooter game" with many colors and sounds that looked more like the mess the brat watched on his phone rather than anything coherent. Trying to follow along made Sukuna's head spin but there were a few things that were easy to catch on.

Yuuji's character exploded into a colored puddle, and without missing a beat Sukuna laughed at him. "You suck at this," he added.

Yuuji turned to glare at him, straining his neck while doing so, "I haven't played in months and the other team has a sniper, so if I don't try to move up we're never getting back mid."

He turned back at the sound of his character respawning, "And my team only has short to mid-range weapons so we're at a disadvantage here."

Sukuna couldn't be bothered to understand what any of that meant. "I'm only hearing excuses. If you were actually good at this game of yours you wouldn't need teammates to win."

"It's a multiplier game, having teammates is the whole POINT!" He screamed the last word as he narrowly evaded an attack that would have surely got him killed again, exploding his opponent in the process. His momentary glee was quickly crushed as his character also exploded for seemingly no reason.

Sukuna didn't try to hide his chuckles while the young man anxiously looked at the map while respawning. The match ended before he could get onto the field again.

Despite the general chaos of the game Sukuna only needed one look to know the results. He smiled with all his teeth, poking at Yuuji's temple with his free hand, "Maybe you should give up for now. What is it? The fifth loss in a row?"

"Oh, shut up," he fell back, landing on Sukuna's chest, "I just need to shake the rust off," he closed his eyes for a moment, knowing how to queue for another match without looking.

Sukuna huffed fondly, "You've been saying that for the past 30 minutes, brat."

Yuuji didn't add anything, only pouting a little. He made his character jump up and down with the hand he still had on the controller. Sukuna tightened the arms he had warped around Yuuji's waist, filling the gap until the younger man sat back up for the next match.

.

.

Yuuji was on his phone, checking over his social medias, laughing at memes and catching up with the tea of strangers online while sending out anything interesting to his friends

What had started out as him sitting beside Sukuna was now him halfway over the other man's laps, his upper back and neck held on a massive arm and hand.

Sukuna was reading old history books, saying he wanted to "catch up" to what happened while he was sealed. One time he mentioned to Yuuji how lacking historical records felt compared to the reality of life during his time, but that didn't stop him from reading them; in fact having a basis to compare how things were when he was still alive compared to what was recorded granted him a far better understanding of other recordings, according to him.

Yuuji didn't really get why he'd spend so much time reading from the source when there were so many videos online detailing their country's history. He had provided Sukuna with a phone for that reason but he only used it for 2 weeks before permanently retiring it to a drawer saying that "it was no wonder the brat was so stupid with the amount of trash accessible through that thing”.

Not what Yuuji had expected when Sukuna had spent those 2 weeks with an average of 12 hours of daily screentime, but hey.

While he was scrolling, Yuuji came across something that made him grin. "Hey, old man!"

Sukuna turned one eye to look at him which was enough acknowledgement for Yuuji, "Look at this," he turned his phone to him.

A picture of an adult tiger lying on its side with a cub pawing at its face was shoved into Sukuna's vision. "It's us."

Yuuji was grinning from ear to ear, giggling to himself. He took back his phone after receiving a hum of acknowledgement and they both resumed their respective activity.

Once Yuuji was fully focused on his screen again, Sukuna allowed himself to smile.

.

.

"Are you done showing off?" Yuuji asked annoyed. As his answer, Sukuna pushed back, going from doing push-ups on one hand to one finger and it only pissed off Yuuji even more.

Originally Yuuji was simply working out a little and was joined by Sukuna who not only matched Yuuji's moves but also made a point of one-upping him at every turn.

Yuuji watched from the side as Sukuna finished his set of 1 finger push-ups, wholly unimpressed as he was pretty sure he could do the same.

He simply knew that Sukuna would one-up him again somehow and he didn't want his light work-out session to turn into their usual competitions.

"Is that all you got brat?" Sukuna was smiling with all his teeth, still holding a perfect plank position, "Was such a simple move enough to scar you into surrendering?"

Well, Yuuji couldn't let that slide. "I just think that this was way too easy for you."

Yuuji walked closer and got on Sukuna's back, sitting in the middle of it. He knew that a man who could carry entire buildings wouldn't be bothered by his weight, but he was still annoyed by the fact that the other did not budge. Not even breaking a sweat.

"Is that it?" Sukuna changed the arm holding him and started another set. "This is still a lightwork brat. Unless you also want me to sit on your back as well to see if you can match the strength of a single one of my arms?"

"I can carry you pretty easily you know that?" Yuuji added with a frown.

"I'd love to see this," he added mockingly which only made Yuuji angrier.

The older man finished his set. A bit passed and he eventually laid down on floor, Yuuji still on his back.

"Hey what are you doing now?"

"Given how comfortable you seem up there I have decided to claim victory this time and let you enjoy yourself. How benevolent of me, I know."

Determined not to leave this as a loss, Yuuji got up and immediately deadlifted Sukuna off the ground.

.

.

Most beds weren't comfortable to Sukuna, made in sizes too small for his bulk and extra limbs, yet sometimes he'd ditch the massive one in his room to sleep in Yuuji's.

And what could Yuuji do if he was tired as well? With Sukuna lying on his back, arms splayed open and legs dangling off the edge, there wasn't that much place left for him to sleep on.

Yuuji crawled up the bed and laid directly on Sukuna's chest, hair tickling the bigger man's chin. He wrapped his arms around the other's neck while 2 hands placed themselves on the small of his back. 'For stability' they both thought.

Like this they both drifted to sleep, hearts close to one another and beating in sync to a slow and steady rhythm.

.

.

.

.

On some day they'll go picnicking together, as if they weren't spending enough time with one another.

They ate, they talked, then they both fell silent, a comfortable sensation covering them both as they simply enjoyed each other's presence as well as the nature around them.

Sukuna's head was laid on Yuuji's laps. Gentle fingers ran through his hair and massaged his scalp; the sun kept them warm and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees around them.

Yuuji had already zoned out, moving his hands automatically in a way that felt right to him, whereas Sukuna had started to drift off to sleep.

Small moments of peace they wish could last forever

[gomzdrawfr]

We are getting words in as I wrestle with my brain

this mtf (points at myself) loves stars and galaxy imageries

also random thought, does any fic writers do the thing when writing from art like this? xD I always like to pick things I've noticed from the piece itself, putting it in bullet points and then expand my ideas from there then try to connect them to paragraphs

[yellowocaballero]

Been a fan of your fics for YEARS. I was just telling my friend how despite how much I read fics I never actually love them, with some of your fics (especially TMA) as the exception. Felt the need to reread some of them and saw you reblogged some ISAT fanart. So. Any thoughts on ISAT you'd like to share?

Hope you have a wonderful day!! So happy I found your fics again!!

I avoided answering this for a while because I was trying to think of a way to cohesively and coherently vocalize my thoughts on In Stars and Time. I have given up because I don't want to hold everybody here all day and I have accepted that my thoughts are just pterodactyl screeching.

I love it so much. I have so much to say on it. It drove me bonkers for like a week straight. I have AUs. It's absolute Megbait. They're just a little Snufkin and they're having the worst experience of anybody's life. Ludonarratives my fucking beloved.

I am going to talk about the prologue.

The prologue is such a fascinating experience. You crack open the game and immediately begin checking off all of the little genre boxes: mage, warrior, researcher, you're the rogue...some little kid who's there for some reason...alright, you know the score. You're in yet another indie Earthbound RPG, these are your generic characters, let's get the ball rolling.

Except then you realize that these characters are people. You feel instantly how you've entered the game at its last dungeon, at the end of the adventure. They have their own in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They get along well and they're obviously close, but not in a twee or unrealistic way. They have so much chemistry and spirit and life. I fell in love with them so quickly.

But Sif doesn't. Sif kind of hates them, because they will not stop saying the same damn thing. They walk the same paths, do the same things, make the same jokes, expect Sif to say the same lines. They keep referencing a Sif we do not see, with jokes we never see him make and heroic personality he never shows - they reference a Sif who is dead - and Sif can't handle that, so he kills them too.

They become only an exercise in tedious frustration. Sif button mashes through their dialogue, Sif mindlessly clicks the same dialogue options, Sif skips through the tutorial, Sif blows through the puzzles. Sif turns their world into a video game. Sif is playing a generic RPG. Sif forgets their names. They are no longer people with in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They're the mage, the warrior, the researcher, and...some random kid.

I did not understand the Kid's presence at first. I had no idea what they contributed to the game. They didn't do anything. As a party member in a video game, they're a bit useless. Why is the Kid there?

Because Sif's life isn't a video game. Because the kid isn't 'the kid'. They're Bonnie. Bonnie, who the party loves. Why is Bonnie there? Because they love them. There is no room for Bonnie in the boring RPG that Sif is playing. And then you realize that Sif is wrong, and that they've lost something extremely important, and that they'll never escape without it.

Watching the prologue before watching ISAT gave ISAT the most unique air of dread and horror, because you crack open ISAT and you see the person Sif used to be. You realize that Sif used to be a person. Sif used to be the person who made jokes, who gave real smiles, who interacted with the world as if they are a part of it. And you know you are sitting down to watch Sif lose everything that made them a person, to lose everything that made them a member of this world, and turn them into a character in a video game who doesn't understand the point of Bonnie at all.

At the climax of the game, when the others realize that something is deeply wrong and that Sif physically cannot tell them, they realize that there is nothing they can do. So Bonnie declares snacktime. And for the first time they have snacktime.

What is snacktime? Classic JRPGs don't have snacktime. There's literally no point to a snacktime - not in a video game, and not in Sif's terrible life. It's not fixing this, because nothing can fix this. But Bonnie gives Sif a cookie and Sif eats it.

It's meaningless. It's a cutscene. It didn't save Sif and it didn't change a thing. It will make no difference in the end.

But it did make the difference. It made all of the difference in the world. Bonnie is a character who you really don't understand the point of before you realize that Bonnie was the entire point.

ISAT is about comfort media. Why do we play the same video games over and over again? Why do we avoid watching the finale of our favorite shows? What is truly comforting: a story with no conflict, or a story where you always know what is about to happen? Do you want to live in a scary, uncontrollable world, or do you want to play Stardew Valley? Do you want a person or a character?

When I beat Earthbound for the first time (and if you don't know, the prologue/ISAT battle system is just Mother) and watched the ending cutscene where the characters part ways and say goodbye...I felt a little bit sad. I wanted them to be together forever. But that's something only characters could ever be.