#if i hit a roadblock again i want to remember this

[i-like-gay-books]

i wanna make a post for all the artists out there struggling with long term burnout, because i’m just starting to emerge from it after nearly three years and i honestly forgot what it was like to have creative energy and i lost a lot of hope during that time.

first of all, burnout can come from anywhere, it doesn’t necessarily have to be that you did too much art and now you drained your creative energy. for me personally, i was dealing with anxiety-based burnout in the aftermath of covid and my freshman year of college, and i lost all motivation for writing, which is like my main thing, the thing i consider to be me, you know? if i’m not a writer, i’m not me.

it was really hard, and i had to push through it, painfully, because my degree is in creative writing, and burnout or not, i do not have the funding to not graduate on time. and it wasnt just writing. this burnout affected all areas of my life.

i stopped being as interested in music, stopped wanting to go to concerts for my favorite artists, because even my favorite artists weren't very important to me. i would make it halfway through a book or maybe even finish a book and then stop reading (aside from fanfic) for several months.

last year, i had such a hard time coming up with a halloween costume that the only thing that saved me from not having a costume entirely was that i found a nice coat that looked exactly like sophie's dress from howl's moving castle.

and the worst part of it all was that i truly started to lose hope. i thought i might never find a favorite music artist again, with songs i want to play on loop endlessly despite knowing that, historically, that usually leads to me not being able to listen to the songs again for a while. i thought books just weren't for me anymore. i dared not think it, but in the back of my mind, i worried that i would never write something i was truly excited to write ever again.

it was really disheartening. still is, to be honest. its the worst thing an artist can feel, to be cut off from that creativity, the one thing i always seemed to have in abundance, no matter what, before.

but as i said, im starting to come out of it now. its a very slow process, but a couple weeks ago, i started planning my novel again, and started rereading an old favorite book series instead of continuing with fanfic. the reason i started making this post is because today at work i had not just one but several halloween costume ideas, when it was so hard for me to even manage one last year.

i still have a ways to go, but i just wanted to make this post. because tumblr is great, but i only ever see artists talking about their current art on here, and it wouldve helped me a lot while i was in the thinck of it to see someone who hadnt produced art they were truly excited about and proud of in a long time.

it was gone, but it's coming back. it might leave for a long time, but once your circumstances aren't as stressful and draining, it will return. even if it feels like it won't, like maybe you've changed permanently and stopped being an artist, somehow, it will.

humans are made to make art. sometimes we're just not in the right circumstances to be able to do it and survive at the same time.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyFive

prompt from @justsearchingformystory and @starthecozy

Eddie’s speaking and reading and writing and all that stuff has come on massively, but he still doesn’t quiet grasp all the nuances of...well, humans. So, sometimes he does things that are just...kind of slightly to the left of normal.

He hasn’t yet grasped that he is really, really not at all subtle. Steve hopes he never works it out, prays quietly that Eddie remains brash and obvious for the rest of their lives. Eddie has a catalogue from somewhere, one of those cheap badly printed things you pick up at the mall. They’re everywhere this time of year, trying to pressure people into buying yet more gifts. Like stuff is the only thing that could possibly bring happiness at Christmas.

He sits close enough to Steve that they’re squished together, flipping the pages. He’s pretending to look but the way he’s holding the book, it’s more like he’s showing it to Steve.

“I like this sweater,” Eddie says, not at all nonchalantly, and then he stares at Steve. Waiting. Holding the page open to show a man and a woman in matching sweaters.

“Yeah, not really your style any more babe, but I’m sure you’d look great in it.” It does, in fact, look exactly like the kind of thing Steve would wear.

Eddie blinks, and Steve knows his plan just hit an unexpected roadblock. Steve can almost hear Eddie thinking. Then he frowns, and turns the page.

“A remote control car,” Eddie reads carefully, “comes with batteries,” he’s showing Steve again.

“I guess you’ve never had anything like that,” Steve grins sweetly, already sensing Eddie’s growing frustration. Whatever the opposite of subtle is, Eddie is it, “I could get you one for Christmas, if you like,” Steve offers, trying to play this as normal as possible, doing his absolute best to school his expression. He’s not sure he’s succeeding, but Eddie doesn’t seem to realize, so near enough.

Eddie turns a couple of pages, “snow chains?” He’s frowning at the book now, “what are snow chains?”

“For the car tires, so you don’t slip around in the snow, I’ve already got some,” Steve smiles sweetly. Eddie’s frown deepens, and he abandons his tactic, and the magazine, heading off in a huff.

Steve wakes up slowly. It’s not urgent, part of his brain telling him that it’s just Eddie that woke him. He can feel Eddie holding his hand, doing something, and Steve shifts sleepily under the covers, blinking his eyes open just as Eddie shuffles something into his pocket. Steve frowns, Eddie’s already dressed. “What you doing baby?”

Steve rubs his thumb between his fingers, rubbing away the ghost of Eddie’s touch, “nothing!” Eddie replies, way too fucking fast, and way way too enthusiastically.

“Uh hu, that isn’t suspicious at all. You’re dressed.”

“Yeah,” Eddie leans over and kisses Steve on the forehead, and when Steve presents his cheek, Eddie kisses him there too, “Chris will be here soon, we’re going Christmas shopping.”

Steve yawns, “can I tag along? I could do with getting some gifts.”

Eddie immediately looks shifty, “uhm, no.”

“I know you’re getting stuff for me baby, you keeping it secret?”

“Maybe.”

“How about I call Robs, I can do some shopping with Rob, you can do some shopping with Chrissy, and then we can swap, I need to get Rob something.”

“And I want to get Chrissy something,” Eddie smiles, seeing Steve’s plan, “you gotta get dressed.” Eddie drags the covers unceremoniously off Steve, making him groan at the loss of comfort, “I’ll call Rob, going soon.”

“Okay okay. I’m up, I’m up,” Steve groans, dragging himself out of bed as Eddie thuds down the stairs.

“Can we get lunch?” Eddie asks, leaning forward as far as he can given his seat belt. Chrissy is driving, so the girls are sitting in the front, “the food court,” he says, with the utmost reverence. Steve remembers very fondly the first time Eddie went to the mall, wandering around with Steve, mouth open, not sure where to look because there’s just so much stuff. Technically it wasn’t the first time Eddie had been to a mall, since Steve carried him through half of Starcourt when they made their escape, but Steve’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t remember much of that. To be honest, neither does Steve since he was high on Russian drugs and beat all to hell.

The nearest mall is now near the city, so that’s where Steve took Eddie. And then he saw the food court for the first time. Eddie had made a noise Steve’s sure he’s only ever heard when they’ve been having sex.

Chrissy laughs, “of course we can.”

“Okay,” Steve checks his watch, “we meet here at twelve thirty, get lunch, then trade off, yeah?”

Robin salutes him, “aye aye captain.”

They go opposite ways, Robin immediately quizzing Steve, “so what is Eddie getting you?”

“I...actually have no idea. He’s brought his savings with him through, so,” Steve shrugs, “he’s got to buy for his secret Santa too.”

“Who did you get?”

“I am not telling you-”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours-”

Steve shoves her, laughing.

They don’t mean to find Eddie and Chrissy, but as they walk into the store and spot them, Steve and Robin both instinctively duck down out of the way, hiding.

“Oof, I hope that isn’t for either of us,” the sweater Eddie is holding up was an almost rabid confusion of pink and yellow.

They can hear Chrissy and Eddie laughing, “oh no,” Robin sighs, “they’re going to weaponize the sweater.”

“We should go, there’s no way I’ll be able to act surprised.”

Robin breathes deeply through her nose, trying to see where they’ve gone now, “okay, I think we’re safe, pretty sure he left the sweater.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t be back for it,” Steve grumbles.

“They’re late,” Steve checks his watch. He isn’t worried; Eddie’s with Chrissy, and it’s only the mall.

“Not that late...there they are,” Robin goes on tip toe, waving to get their attention.

“Where’s all you stuff?” Steve can’t help but notice they’re empty handed.

“In the car, hidden from prying eyes,” Chrissy tells them with a knowing look.

“It’s a secret, Stevie,” Eddie informs them solemnly, “Chrissy is keeping my gifts at hers. We can wrap them in the dark.”

Chrissy snorts a laugh, “no honey, we need to keep Steve in the dark.”

“Right right,” Eddie frowns vaguely, but clearly has other priorities, “lunch food?”

Steve collapses onto the couch, simply walking around all the stores can be exhausting, maybe because of all the thinking and planning involved. Steve managed to get a couple of records and band shirts for Eddie; things he knows he will like.

His guitar playing has been coming along too, Eddie picking that up just as fast as everything else, and Steve managed to find a book of Metallica tabs at the record store, plus a red guitar pick necklace that he’s certain will be a winner. The red plastic has the faintest of sparkles to it, and Eddie is such a magpie Steve’s sure he will like it.

“Close your eyes Stevie love!” Eddie hollers through the house.

Steve snorts a laugh, but does as he’s told, not moving a muscle otherwise, still slouched on the couch, “okay! They’re shut!”

He can hear Eddie moving around, rustling things on the coffee table, “okay, open.”

Eddie’s laid out a bunch of...stuff...on the table. Crafty looking stuff. In the middle there are two Christmas stockings, the kind you hang on the mantle. One is red and green candy cane stripe, and the other a dark blue with little glittery starts printed all over. They look extremely cheap, but no less charming for it, “what are we doing baby?”

“We’re going to make hot chocolate, I got fancy marshmallows, and we’re decorating our socks.”

“Stockings.”

“Sure. That.” Eddie has scissors and felt and a little bottle of Elmer’s glue. There are tacky plastic gems with paper backs, and sheets of little foil stickers; angels and snow men and Christmas trees and stuff. “They have to have our names on, so we can cut out letters?” Eddie holds up a little sheet of colored felt material.

“I...you know. I’m pretty sure I see your vision, this looks fun. Lets go and make the hot chocolate.”

The smile Eddie gives him is brighter than the godamn sun, and they end up making out in the kitchen, waiting for the milk to heat.

Part ThirtySeven

[cosmicdahlias]

A Fatal Mistake

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

Ford is being driven to the brink of insanity for betraying Bill, constantly possessed and harmed in every way possible. He’s been missing for days and you’re working to find him when he comes through the front door, looking incredibly worse for wear.

warnings: blood, injury, possession, oral, p in v, creampie, knives, death

i included one of my favorite astronomy facts! i loved astronomy in high school, it was actually one of the few classes i applied myself in. i was gonna give the ending my usual fluff treatment, but after reading the book of bill and seeing how dark things get in the lost journal pages i couldn’t help myself.

It had been days since you had seen your research partner, Ford. As of late disappearing for a day or two was commonplace for him, but it had been almost a week with no sign of him.

You never had any idea what he got himself up to when he took off like that. He’d come back with various injuries and when you tried to probe him for their source he always insisted he didn’t remember. Normally you’d think he was lying, but it genuinely seemed like he was telling the truth.

It killed you to see him like this. Not just because you cared for him as your research partner, but because you harbored deep feelings for him. You always had, ever since you met him all those years ago in college.

When he called you up asking for you to come work with him in a small town in Oregon, you happily agreed to it without a second thought. For the longest time it was just you and him, discovering and documenting the weirdness that inhabited Gravity Falls. There were so many times you wanted to tell him how you felt, but you were plagued with cold feet.

Years had passed when another brilliant mind joined the team after you’d both hit a roadblock in your studies. Ford had been struck with the idea, as if from nowhere, to build an inter-dimensional portal. You two were incredibly brilliant, but lacked the engineering skills to complete this monumental task on your own. Ford called up his old college roommate, Fiddleford McGucket, in Palo Alto. He eagerly accepted the offer, insisting Ford’s plans were “mathematically feasible!”

As much as you enjoyed Fiddleford’s company, any chance you’d had to confess your feelings to Ford fell by the wayside. Between diligent work and never being alone with him, you simply didn’t have the time.

After months of the three of you spending every waking moment on the portal, the time came to finally test it. Things went wrong, horribly wrong. The rope tied to the test dummy had wrapped around Fiddleford’s wrist, pulling him halfway through the portal. Ford’s and your quick thinking allowed you two to heave him back out. Ford tried to ask him what he had seen, but he rambled incomprehensible nonsense and said the machine would bring about the apocalypse. He quit on the spot.

What should have been a silver lining to have Ford to just yourself again did not turn out to be so. In the following days he became erratic, paranoid, overrun by sleep deprivation, constantly turning his head as if to sounds you could never hear. He was a shell of his former self, but you were determined to stick by him.

One morning he called you frantically, all you could make out was “Fiddleford was right”. He did not elaborate, insisting he had more to say to you in person. Alarmed by the obvious decline in his mental state, you raced over. He sat you down on his couch and explained everything.

He confessed that building the portal was not his idea, that he was instructed to do so by an otherworldly being by the name of Bill Cipher. He had trusted him, lured in by Bill stroking his admittedly massive ego, praising his high IQ, and promising him the secrets that would solve the mystery that was the weirdness of Gravity Falls. Bill said that the portal would be Ford’s magnum opus, a true conclusion to the answers he so desperately sought.

But it was all a lie. Bill needed the portal to link his dimension to yours so he could take over and establish a “Weirdmageddon”. A cataclysmic event that would turn all reason and logic on its head, it would spell the end to life and the universe as you knew it.

It was a lot to take in, but the look on Ford’s face told you that this was gravely serious. You took his word without question, vowing to put an end to Bill’s plans and destroy him at all costs. Within days the disappearances started to happen.

At first you wondered if these episodes were some kind bender, be it alcohol or drugs… or both. Perhaps a way to cope with the reality of being used as Bill’s pawn in a sick game of chess for the fate of the universe. But now you were certain there was something far more sinister at play.

It was a fairly common occurrence that you saw his eyes glow bright yellow, pupils catlike. His demeanor would shift and his voice would change in register, almost as if someone was speaking through him. During these instances it was like he became a different person, he was wild and unpredictable. He would say things to you either for shock value or in an overtly flirtatious manner just to see you turn red.

You had studied your fair share about demonic possession. With the way Ford had described previous moments where Bill had taken over, back when he still considered him his “Muse”, it was a no-brainer that Ford was once again being used by Bill. This time it was for his own sick enjoyment of making his former puppet suffer, a punishment for Ford’s betrayal.

You sat in the secluded cabin in the woods the two of you used to conduct research in, before things had become so tumultuous. Night had fallen and you were on the phone speaking to the GFPD.

“So you’re not going to send out someone to look for him until morning!? Why can’t you do it now? He hasn’t been seen in days! He could be-“

The front door swung open with an incredibly disheveled Ford standing in the doorway.

“FORD!” You shouted.

“Hello, hello?” The officer asked over the phone.

“He just walked in the door, sorry for all the trouble.” You said unceremoniously, slamming the phone.

“Where have you been? I was so worried!” You said.

Before Ford had a chance to respond he began to fall forward, you leapt to your feet and caught him before his face could make contact with the floor. You took his face in your hands and studied his eyes. They looked insanely bloodshot and exhausted, but thankfully normal.

“Ford, what the hell happened to you?”

“I- I don’t know.” He murmured faintly.

“Let me get you somewhere comfortable.”

You lifted him up, put your arm around his shoulders and led him back to his room, sitting him on the couch. You scanned him from head to toe. His white button-up shirt was torn with a long horizontal laceration across his chest, a ring of blood stained his shirt, it looked like he’d been attacked with a knife. You put a hand to his chest, he flinched.

“Oh, Ford. Who did this to you?”

“I can’t recall a thing. I remember nothing from the near week I was gone.”

“Regardless, I need to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

You headed to the bathroom where he kept a first aid kit in the medicine cabinet. You made your way back and sat next to him on the couch.

“This shirt’s gonna have to go.” You said, pulling scissors from the kit.

“I don’t think there’s any chance of salvaging it anyway.” He chuckled weakly.

You removed his tie and cut away at his shirt, sliding the remains off his arms and revealing his chest. With the shirt no longer obstructing your view you could see that the cut was deep, but thankfully not enough to require stitches. He had avoided a hospital trip… this time.

“You know, you’re probably gonna have to get a tetanus shot.” You said.

He laughed softly “I’ll take it over rabies shots, those are hell.”

You pulled out a small bottle of disinfectant and a cotton pad. He winced as you applied it to the gash.

“I’ll never get accustomed to this sensation.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I’d imagine obtaining the injury was far worse.”

“It’s a good thing I can’t remember it then.” He smiled sheepishly.

You unfurled a roll of gauze, pulling his back away from the couch and wrapping his chest.

“Ford, you have to tell me why you keep vanishing. I know you say you don’t remember, but I’m certain there’s more to it. I know it has something to do with Bill.”

He looked away, afraid to meet your gaze. You took his cheek in your hand, turning him to face you.

“Hey, I tell you everything, I know you can do the same for me.”

He put his hand over yours and took a deep breath. “I leave because I don’t want to put you in danger. On nights where I can no longer fight the exhaustion, Bill threatens me in my dreams- my nightmares. He wants to hurt you.”

“There has to be a way I can help keep him from taking over. Something, anything.”

“I wish I knew, but I… don’t. I feel like I’m slowly going insane, but at least if I’m away from you I can’t harm you.”

“I’m not letting you face this on your own, we’re a team and I’m not going anywhere. You scared me half to death over these last few days. I started to think I might’ve lost you. I’m not losing you again, not even for a second.”

“You don’t understand the violent things Bill wants me to do to you, to kill you.”

With stakes as high as they were you realized how foolish it was to keep secrets, even your feelings for him.

“No matter what happens, I’m staying. I love you, Ford.”

You leaned in and kissed him. When you pulled back he stared at you, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“You love me?” Ford he whispered.

“I have for over a decade.”

“I- I had no idea.”

“Well, you’re the smartest man I know, but you’re incredibly stupid when it comes to romance.” You laughed.

“Touché.” He smiled.

“Ford, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I’ve wanted you for so lo-“

He cut you off by pulling you onto his lap and kissing you passionately.

“I love you too, stardust.”

Ah yes, the nickname he’d given you in college. You had told him a fact about how certain elements in human bodies only form from the death of a star. You told him “we are literally made of stardust” and the name stuck. He always said it in a way that came off platonically, but this time as it left his lips it was obvious the intent was vastly different.

He looked at you directly in the eyes, he hated eye contact so you knew you must’ve mattered to him a great deal.

“I’ve felt the same way for so long, I just never thought you did so I put my feelings aside, buried them deep. You have no idea how often my thoughts are occupied by you. There were so many times I would just watch you working, the way your brow furrows in concentration is adorable. I need you like a flower craves sunlight, like a fish to water.” He whispered.

You kissed him again, tangling your fingers in his hair. He lowered his mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. You ground yourself against him, eliciting a soft moan against your neck and causing him to grow achingly hard.

“God, I’ve wanted this since the day you came into my life.” He breathed.

You sunk to the floor in front of him and started undoing his belt. You unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. Jesus christ, he was big. You stroked him a few times before taking him in your mouth.

“F- fuck, your mouth feels incredible.” He moaned.

You moved your head up and down his shaft, Ford whimpering far more than you had expected.

“Ah, hhhnh, don’t stop.” He whined.

He ran his fingers through your hair, moaning and softly bucking his hips into your mouth. He took great care to not move hard enough to make you gag. You picked up your pace, stroking him with your hand as you sucked.

“Nhhhh where did you learn to do something like that? You’re so good at this. Y- you’re gonna make me c- cum if you keep guh- going- ah- like that.” He stuttered.

You bobbed your head furiously on him. He tangled his fist in your hair and gently pulled your mouth off of him.

“N- no, stop. I need to feel myself inside you. Please?”

You nodded and he turned himself to lay back on the couch, you stood and slipped your panties off from under your skirt, dropping them to the floor. You got on top of him, straddling his hips and hovering over his cock. You lowered yourself to take his length inside you, now it was your turn to whimper as your pussy struggled to accommodate him.

“Dear moses, stardust, and I thought your mouth felt good. You’re heavenly. So warm and- mmh- tight.”

You slid him fully inside you, never feeling so filled by cock before in your life. He rested his hands on your hips and you began to move yourself on him. He threw his head back, already overwhelmed by the mere feeling of your pussy taking his cock.

He panted. “You can’t imagine the amount of times I’ve pictured something like this. How often you’ve distracted me from my work. The nights I’ve spent with my hand wrapped around my cock, the mere thought of you pushing me to orgasm. Oh stars, how I longed to know you intimately.”

He slipped a hand between your thighs, stroking your clit with his thumb, the other hand still holding your hip. You bit your lip, stifling what would have been an uncomfortably loud moan, tightening around him.

“Good girl, I love how my touch makes you constrict my cock.”

You became even tighter at his praise.

“Nnnnahhh, Ford.”

“Is that a praise kink I sense, stardust?”

You nodded fervently.

“That’s my girl, so needy for my words.”

You lifted and dropped your hips, sliding him fully in and out of you at a steady rhythm. His eyes rolled back into his head, completely overtaken by the pleasure of you. His breath was ragged, his eyes never leaving you, darting between your body and face.

“You’re so gorgeous, stardust. I’ve studied so many creatures over the years, seen the likes of sirens and nymphs, but you are by far the most enchanting.”

He reached up a hand to cup your cheek, you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself growing close between both his words and thumb on your clit. You made an attempt to tell him, but all that came out was unintelligible whimpering.

“Oh Ford, you’re- I’m gonna- ah- nhhhh.”

“That’s it, you’re such a good girl. Cum for me, you’re almost there.”

You absolutely lost it at his praise, digging your nails into his shoulders and riding him as hard as you possibly could until you came completely undone around him. The feeling of you spasming and contracting around him sent him over. He released your clit, both hands gripping your hips. He slammed you down onto the full length of his cock and came deep inside you.

“Dear god, y/n!” He half moaned, half whimpered.

Your pace died down and for a while you stayed on top of him. You both said nothing, just looking into each other’s eyes and panting as your heart rates settled. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips and pulled yourself off of him. You laid down, Ford spooning you.

“In the name of all the stars in the known universe and beyond, you are absolutely incredible, stardust.” He sighed, content.

“I love you, Ford.” You said, eyelids growing heavy.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, y/n.”

You both lay in silence, slumber embracing you. Bill knew it was now or never. He took control of Ford and silently moved him off the couch so as to not wake you. He led him to the kitchen, pulling out a large knife. He crept back into the room where you slept, looming over you.

You stirred. “Mnh, Ford? What are you-“

Your eyes widened in terror as you caught sight of the knife in his hand, his eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, you bolted off the couch and ran for your life. You burst through the front door and took off into the forest, the light of the full moon being the only thing to keep you from crashing into the trees.

A constant crunching of snow behind you was a strong indicator that Ford was pursuing you. Tears streamed down your face. You said you would stand by him no matter what and now you were paying the price for thinking with your heart.

You looked back to see if you were still being followed, but didn’t see him. Before you could even turn your head again you collided with something, falling to the ground. You looked up and your heart sank. Ford grinned with a smile so wide it looked as if the corners of his mouth would split open.

“Hey there, dollface. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

-

Ford came to god knows how much later. He blinked, vision blurry, as it always was after Bill had taken hold. He could see a figure lying in the snow and as his eyes began to focus he screamed in horror.

You lay before him, your body stabbed near beyond recognition, an immense pool of blood stained the fresh snow. There was no way to bring you back, you were gone. A page ripped from Ford’s journal laid on top of you.

“Did you really think I’d let you have your happy ending with your little ‘stardust’? It’s just us now, sixer, I’m all you’ll ever need.”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you know any fics similar to The Mating Privilege or I Don’t Like the Way She’s Looking at You? Just some stories where Derek isn’t the *best* mate/bf/husband etc or they have to pretend to not be together and ends up with stiles feeling neglected or ignored.

I’ve also read “how I long for yesterday” and “worth it” for those that want something similar but not quite what I’m looking for!

First of all. "How I Long for Yesterday" is my fic. So this made my day.

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss

(1/1 I 6,017 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won’t fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead. He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words ‘Derek blew me off for Isaac’ over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

Worth It by dragneels

(1/1 I 1,670 I General I Sterek)

He hadn’t thought even for a second, instincts roaring, and jumped in front of Derek, taking the blow. And then he got lost in the darkness. also known as the "stiles telling derek that he's worth everything" fic no one asked for

***

As the seconds tick by by Halevetica

(1/1 I 3,972 I Not Rated)

When Derek picks up a new contract, he starts showing up late and missing important dates making Stiles feel unimportant. Derek is sure the contract is worth it, but Stiles doesn't understand why.

I'm Torn Do I Stay Do I Go by Adaline_Stilinski

(2/2 I 6,963 I General)

Derek had been focusing on making alliances with other packs around Beacon Hills to protect his pack but in doing so he started to neglect Stiles and there relationship. Stiles get's sick of it and decided to leave for some time apart is it going to help be like the stories Stiles reads and write about how distance makes love grow or will they both realise that there better apart. Will tragedy bring them together

Aberration by JackalPinesOfHouseEvergreen

(11/? I 29,415 I Teen)

Derek is a hot-shot lawyer who is very focused on his work. Stiles is his loving husband who does his best to fit into Derek's high-class family. He's hit some major roadblocks though. He feels neglected and unloved, and worse when Derek ditches him at his own family's parties which leave him humiliated as he tries to appear like their marriage isn't failing.

As an old member comes during some important werewolf ceremony to stir the pot, Derek's relationship with his family and Stiles is tested more than ever. Derek's world has been rocked and turned upside down.

And Stiles? Stiles is trying to find out who he is in the absence of the one he loves. As much as he believes in Derek and in their relationship, Stiles needs to find his self-worth that got lost along the way. Remember the fire he had inside of him as he got in the face of those that looked down at him, the fierceness of his intelligence that made others fear and respect him. Remember how fun life was...

Derek and Stiles drift a bit as Derek realizes he has to woo Stiles again, because he will not risk losing the love of his life. Not again.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc

(12/12 I 35,380 I Mature)

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Til We Ain't Strangers Anymore by WriteByNight

(7/7 I 35,994 I Explicit)

Stiles should've expected Derek to suddenly disappear since the werewolf was in the habit of taking off without notice. However, Derek always showed up when they needed him.

As the weeks pass by, Stiles is no longer confused and a little hurt. What started as heartache begins to get worse the longer Stiles goes without seeing Derek. Eventually, his body begins to shut down and his only hope seems to be Derek...but nobody can find him.

There's no cure for a broken heart. Except, maybe, the cause for the broken heart himself.

- - -

Or the one where Derek takes off without warning and Stiles finds out he could be Derek's mate and the distance between Derek and Stiles, along with Derek's refusal to develop the bond, is slowly killing Stiles. Without Derek, Stiles will die, but no one knows where he is or how to contact him. And Stiles is barely keeping it together.

[americas1suiteheart]

Here's the link for the whole series on Ao3 if you prefer to read it there :)

Weird Science | Chapter II

Egon Spengler x Reader

[Notes; This is a shorter chapter and is kind of a filler I guess, but I promise there's more the next one. There is no summary for this.

[Warnings; Some foul language and that's about it.

Part 2/? | <Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

Ring, Ring, Ring, Ri-!

You run from the other room to get the telephone, nearly tripping over some of the boxes scattered throughout your apartment. You answer the phone, picking it up and holding it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Y/n! Hey, it's Ray. I was calling to see if you wanted to swing by our research area sometime this week? Me and the guys have been working on something but hit a bit of a roadblock and need help getting it fixed or changed up soon," Ray's voice rings out excitingly through the phone.

"Hey Ray! Sure I can, but it'll probably have to be either tomorrow or Friday, I'm kinda stuck moving some of the boxes out to my apartment right now,"

"That's fine, Y/n. Also, how do you feel about getting some drinks with me and the guys this weekend? I figure I can reintroduce you to Peter and Egon again. I think it'd be fun if you aren't too busy," Ray suggests.

"Great! I wouldn't mind going with you guys, I think it'd be nice especially with all this that's goin' on right now too." You say, twisting the telephone cord in between your fingers.

"Great! How about you come on over Friday and after we finish up we can all go down to a bar for the night. The work shouldn't take too long."

"Yeah that works, I'll see you Friday then. Bye now."

"Bye Y/n, see you Friday." Ray says before hanging up the phone.

You place the phone back into its holder, then walking through the stacks of boxes to get back to organizing them.

I forgot just how much fun it was to talk to friends, why did I ever loose touch with all of them? Especially Ray.

You pick up a box labeled Motherboards and Breadboards, scribbled out in messily neat handwriting, picking it up and placing it on top of the boxes labeled Wires.

You had only been moving your stuff out for two days now, so regardless of the amount of shit you had in your apartment currently, you still weren't done and there was unfortunately plenty left in what used to be your lab.

You go to turn on your radio, tuning it to a radio station that played some of your favourite stuff and luckily managed to catch it just as a song was about to play.

-bzzt!- "...You're listening to 97.5 FM, the top radio station where you can get all of the newest -bzzt!- hits! Here's Everything She Wants from Wham's new album 'Make It Big'!" -bzzt!-

You make a mental note to remember that you need to buy another radio, as the speakers on yours were starting to give out.

"Somebody told me, "Boy, everything she wants, is everything she sees" I guess I must have loved you, because I said you were the perfect girl for me, baby,"

You danced as you organized more of your boxes. "Where on earth am I going to put all of these?" You said to yourself, putting your hands on your hips.

"Somebody tell me, o-" -pop!- -fzzt!- Your radio began to pop and spark, and it finally gave out with some mild vapor coming out of it.

"Shit! No, please don't give out on me now." You sigh, unplugging the radio from the port and trying to fan away the smoke.

'As if my week couldn't get any worse right now. I'm starting to look forward to Friday more and more.' You think to yourself.

You run your fingers through your hair, deciding to take a nap so you could try to calm yourself down.

---------------------------------------

You wake up, stretching and letting out a groan. You look at your bedside clock. 7:47 PM, the clock read.

You get up and head into your kitchen to make dinner. You grab a pot, a can of tomato soup, some bread, and a couple slices of cheese.

Grilled cheese and tomato soup couldn't really be considered the best dinner but its what you had. that's another thing you needed to add to your list. New radio, more groceries.

You add the can of tomato soup and a can of water into the pot and turn the heat on. You get four slices of bread and four slices of cheese out, placing them onto your cutting board as you go to grab your skillet and some butter.

You walked back into your living room to turn on your answering box to listen to any messages you might've gotten while you were napping.

-beep!- "You have- 3 new messages" -beep!-

You walk back into the kitchen to make your grilled cheese, turning the stove on for the skillet and putting two slices of butter on it to melt.

"Hey, Y/n! It's Sarah. I wanted to call to tell you that Mark and I are engaged now! How awesome is that, right! I'll have to talk to you about it when you actually answer your phone. I'll talk to you later, bye!" -beep!-

You smile to yourself, it was always good hearing from Sarah, you never got to talk to her often and you were happy that she finally got engaged with Mark. It might be better to meet with her to congratulate and talk to her, you'll call to tell her that later.

"Hey, Y/n. It's dad. I heard about what happened at the University and I want to say I'm sorry, kiddo. If you ever need help with anything or just want to come and hang out with your old man you can always come over whenever you want. I hope you feel better and, uh, yeah. I love you, stay safe." -beep!-

It was always so nice to hear from your parents. You hated to say it but it was even better when you heard from your dad rather than your mom. You'd always been daddy's little girl though. You need to go and visit them very soon, you forgot just how much you missed them.

You take both of the grilled cheeses off of the skillet and turn of the stove for both the soup and the skillet.

"Hey, Y/n, it's Ray again. Good and exciting news; me, Venkman, and Spengler got actual evidence that phantoms and ghosts are real and even got an ectoplasm sample. Not so good news; we've all been kicked out of the University today. I guess the Dean decided he was done with us in the same week. Anyway, just wanted to sha-" -beep!- "Time limit exceeded." -beep!- "You have no more messages" -beep!-

"Shit. I hope they're okay." You say to yourself, taking your plate and bowl to place it on your kitchen island.

Your home didn't feel all that cozy now with all of the boxes scattered throughout your apartment. Though you guess it never was to begin with.

There were only the bare necessities. A bed, one chair next to the island, pots and pans, food, a small television, a table where the television and phone sat, and a few other kitchen appliances. You were always at your lab so you didn't feel the need for a couch, things for hobbies, or anything else that weren't completely necessary, though you guess that a television wasn't exactly necessary.

You sit at the island and eat, turning on your television and putting on the news. Nothing interesting to say the least, just the same boring thing as everyday.

You sigh and clean up the mess from your food, walking them and putting them up to dry. Turn off the television and head into your room to go to bed again.

Though it sucked to have been fired from the University, you had a lot of time to relax now, to sleep a normal amount of time for the first time in years. But the downside of it is that you were bored. So.. incredibly.. bored.. This was also the first time that you had nothing to do in years to occupy your hands and mind. It was awful.

You finally fall asleep after letting your mind wander, thinking about how you never would have had to let Thallman go work with another professor if you would've just done something else to not piss of the Dean.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

This was a shorter chapter and I'm actually being smarter about making chapter fics, making two of them at a time so people don't wait ages for one individual chapter to be released (And I'm terribly sorry for that, guys), and I'm sorry for the pace that this is going. But the next chapter is going to have more, I promise. I'll stop the ranting for now, I do hope you enjoyed it, though.

[atommadly]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐀𝐔) | pt. 2

Pairing: CEO!Harry Wells x Intern!Reader Warnings: none

𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺'𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The night had been short for Harrison. He had to be at the office early for meetings, and after going to bed at 4 a.m. the previous night, he was exhausted. Yet, despite his fatigue, the memory of the evening you’d spent together, working on the project, filled his heart with a quiet joy. That joy, however, didn’t last long.

His father stormed into his office, his face a mask of displeasure. “You’ve betrayed me, Harrison!” he snapped, his voice sharp. “The board has decided to cut the budget for your project! You disobeyed me!”

Harrison blinked, trying to suppress his exhaustion. “I didn’t disobey you. I reduced the budget provided by STAR Labs. I’ve managed to secure additional funding.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” his father snarled. “You do whatever you want, without considering the consequences. That’s not how you run an empire.”

“I’m not running an empire, I’m a scientist in search of answers,” Harrison retorted, his voice calm but firm. “This project could save lives. It’s too important to just give up on.”

“Then why hasn’t it moved forward in over six months?” His father’s voice was icy.

Harrison was taken aback by the question. He had been so caught up in the work that he hadn’t realized just how much time had passed without significant progress.

His father pressed on. “I’ve done my homework, Harrison. You’re funding a project that’s stagnating. We’re losing both time and money.”

“I’ve just hit some roadblocks with the calculations,” Harrison explained, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice. “I’ll figure it out. The project will come to fruition.”

“Three months,” his father said, his tone final. “You’ve got three months to make this project work. If it’s not completed by then, we’re pulling the plug.”

With a final, harsh glare, his father slammed the door behind him, leaving Harrison in the quiet aftermath. Harrison let out a long, weary sigh. He knew his father was right, to a certain extent. The project was stalled. He had been stuck on a complex problem for weeks, unable to find a solution.

But as he sat there, his mind drifted back to the evening you had spent together. The way you’d worked so effortlessly alongside him, how connected the two of you had felt. He remembered the focus in your eyes, the way your ideas meshed seamlessly with his. There was something about you, something that had made him feel like the solution was just within reach.

An idea sparked in his mind. It was an unusual one, but something about the way you worked — the way you saw the problem from a different angle — gave him the confidence to consider it. He had an idea that could break the deadlock, but he would need your help.

Suddenly, the prospect of solving the problem didn’t seem so daunting. The thought of working with you again, of bringing your energy and fresh perspective into the equation, made him feel a sense of hope he hadn’t felt in weeks.

He couldn’t let his father’s deadline loom over him. He needed to find the answer — and this time, he wouldn’t do it alone.

The next day, you were busy organizing data from your current assignment when one of the lab assistants approached your desk. "You’ve been requested in Mr. Wells’ office," he said with an unreadable expression.

You froze, gripping the edge of your desk. Harrison Wells’ office? The CEO, the legend of STAR Labs? The man who had spent hours helping you fix a sabotaged project just last night?

Your heart thundered in your chest. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since that night. His sharp mind, his quiet kindness, the way he had made you feel like an equal, not just an intern. And yet, a new wave of anxiety settled over you. What could he possibly want now? Had you done something wrong?

You stood, brushing off your slightly wrinkled blouse. The other interns, always eager for drama, noticed immediately and began whispering among themselves.

“She’s definitely in trouble,” one of them snickered.

“Maybe Wells finally realized she doesn’t belong here,” another added, her voice dripping with malice.

Your face burned, but you ignored them, squaring your shoulders. You needed this internship, and you weren’t about to let their petty comments rattle you.

The walk to Harrison’s office felt endless. When you arrived, the heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, revealing the man himself seated at his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought.

You hesitated for a moment, taking him in. In the bright daylight, he looked every bit the billionaire CEO — polished, sharp, and utterly captivating. His suit was immaculate, though his tie was slightly loosened, a small reminder of the long hours he often worked.

Steeling yourself, you knocked lightly. Harrison looked up, his piercing eyes softening when he saw you. “Come in,” he said warmly, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

You stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind you. The office was as intimidating as you had imagined, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and shelves lined with awards, blueprints, and cutting-edge prototypes. Yet, Harrison’s smile made the room feel just a little less daunting.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, his voice gentle.

You sat down, your hands folded nervously in your lap. Despite his welcoming demeanor, the knot in your stomach tightened. “Did... did I do something wrong?” you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harrison blinked in surprise, then chuckled softly. The sound was warm and reassuring, and it made your cheeks flush. “Not at all,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrowed. “Then why am I here?”

“I need your help,” he said simply.

Your eyes widened. “My help?”

He nodded. “There’s a project I’ve been working on for a while now — the Neural Pathway Integration project. It’s... one of the most important projects I’ve ever undertaken. And I want you to be a part of it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Neural Pathway Integration project? You’d heard whispers about it in the lab. It was cutting-edge, something that could revolutionize neuroscience and artificial intelligence. But you? You were just an intern.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “I mean, there are so many people here who are more experienced, more qualified—”

Harrison shook his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Last night, working with you, I saw something... different. You think outside the box. You approach problems in ways that most people don’t. And that’s exactly what this project needs.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. Harrison Wells, one of the most brilliant minds of your time, believed you were the key to solving his problem?

“What exactly is the problem?” you managed to ask, your voice barely steady.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “There’s a critical calculation that the entire project hinges on. For the past six months, no one’s been able to solve it — not me, not my team, not any of the experts I’ve brought in. We’ve hit a wall.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. This wasn’t just a simple assignment; this was a leap into something far bigger than you’d ever imagined.

“But I’m just an intern,” you said softly. “What if I can’t—”

Harrison cut you off, his voice firm but kind. “I believe in you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have called you here if I didn’t.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart flutter. There was no condescension, no doubt — only belief.

Finally, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Harrison’s face lit up with a smile that made your chest tighten. “Thank you, Y/N. I have a good feeling about this.”

As you left his office, your thoughts were a whirlwind. The whispers and judgments of the other interns faded into the background. None of it mattered anymore.

For the first time since starting at STAR Labs, you felt seen. Not as just another intern, but as someone who could make a difference. And as you walked back to your desk, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

Weeks turned into months, and your life fell into a rhythm that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Working alongside Harrison became the highlight of your days—and nights, as the project demanded more of your time and focus. From the moment you’d agreed to help him, he had thrown himself into the work with relentless determination, and you followed suit, eager to prove yourself worthy of his trust.

Harrison was a natural teacher, explaining the origins of the Neural Pathway Integration project with a level of passion that left you breathless. He told you about the years he’d spent conceptualizing the technology, the challenges he’d faced, and the breakthroughs that had brought the project to its current state. As he spoke, his face would light up, his hands gesturing animatedly, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in.

At first, you listened with awe, feeling out of your depth among the brilliance of his ideas. But Harrison never let you doubt yourself. He invited your input, valuing your perspective even when it differed from his own. Over time, you began to see yourself as more than just an intern—you were a collaborator, a partner in solving the complex equations and intricate designs that had stalled the project.

You worked tirelessly, often staying late into the night. Harrison would roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie, and dive into the work with you, the two of you poring over schematics and scribbling calculations on whiteboards. It was exhausting, but there was something magical about those late nights. The quiet hum of the lab, the soft glow of the monitors, the sound of his voice as he walked you through a problem—it all felt intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

The dynamic between you began to shift. At first, you had addressed him with a formality that reflected the intimidating gap between your statuses. But now, you called him “Harrison” without hesitation. It felt natural, as though you’d known him forever.

Harrison, too, had changed. He laughed more when he was with you, his usually serious demeanor softening. He started bringing coffee to your workspace, remembering how you liked it, and teasing you about your tendency to forget meals when you were deep in thought. The walls he kept around himself seemed to lower, bit by bit, until you felt like you were seeing the man behind the title.

Your late-night work sessions became your favorite part of the day. When hunger inevitably struck, you would order takeout, sharing cartons of noodles or slices of pizza over blueprints and brainstorming sessions. You found yourselves talking about more than just work. Harrison shared stories of his childhood, his love for science, and even his frustrations with his father’s obsession with image and legacy.

You opened up to him too, telling him about your struggles to get where you were, about the sacrifices your family had made to support you, and about your dreams of making a difference. Harrison listened intently, his gaze unwavering, as though your words mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

As the weeks passed, something unspoken began to grow between you. It was in the way Harrison’s hand would linger just a moment too long when he passed you a pen, or the way your eyes would meet across the room, holding each other’s gaze for just a beat longer than necessary.

Harrison couldn’t stop thinking about you. You had a way of seeing the world—and the problems you were working on—that captivated him. Your intelligence wasn’t just impressive; it was thrilling. Watching you work, watching the way your mind pieced together solutions in ways he hadn’t considered, was utterly intoxicating.

And then there was you—your smile, the way your brow furrowed when you were deep in thought, the soft laugh that escaped you when he cracked one of his dry jokes. You were beautiful, but it was more than that. You were real, genuine, and unlike anyone he’d ever met.

Harrison had always kept a distance from others, especially when it came to relationships. Being Harrison Wells meant being a symbol of success, wealth, and power—a mask he’d grown accustomed to wearing but that left him feeling isolated. People didn’t see him; they saw the billionaire, the CEO.

But you were different. From the very first moment you met, you had looked at him as if he were just another person, not a headline or a name on a Forbes list. That memory stayed with him, the way you had treated him with kindness and sincerity, unaware of his fame.

It terrified him how deeply he felt for you. He hadn’t allowed himself to fall in love before—it was too risky, too painful. But with you, it was inevitable.

You, on the other hand, were experiencing emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years. You had always been focused on your studies, too busy chasing your dreams to think about love. But now, it was all you could think about.

Harrison consumed your thoughts. His eyes, the way they sparkled when he smiled; his hands, strong and sure as they worked beside yours; his voice, low and steady, grounding you in even the most chaotic moments.

You dreamed of him—not just of his touch, though the thought of his lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine—but of his words, his ideas, his passion. He was brilliant and kind and unlike anyone you had ever known.

And so, you continued working together, dancing around the feelings that neither of you dared to name. The tension between you grew with every passing day, a silent promise that something was coming, something neither of you could ignore for much longer.

[darkwingsnark]

Thematic Contradictions: Pinky, the Nature of Suffering, and the Brain.

A comment written on a youtube video showing the multiple backstories provided by the different iterations of PatB. Something written in the moment, free flow, with no research to back my claims. All made for the fun fun silly-williness of it all.

I did think others might enjoy it all the same, so sharing anyway.

Honestly, while contradictory in nature for the sake of making different origin parodies [a habit shared with shows like Darkwing Duck], there's plenty to work with in regards to coming up with a backstory. Even if you were to assume that Brain truly has lost it enough to believe all origins, there's still the running theme of having lost his innocence due to interference with humanity. That the trauma triggered the want and need for control to provide safety for himself [and Pinky]. I wouldn't call his want to take over the world [and thus humanity] to be seen as the example of his anger displacement. His anger displacement comes in the form of lashing out and getting overtly defensive when hitting roadblocks. It's a triggering of the feeling of failure, which in turn is internalized. His plan didn't fail, HE failed. Which in turn, he feels, is a jab at his intelligence. And if he isn't intelligent, the very thing granted and the outcome of why he suffered, then what was the point of it all? If he can't seek control, make the world a better place, was his suffering just a cruel act and not the marks of a greater destiny?

The answer in the end, of course, is one that philosophers have debated for a long time. But I argue that, outside of the love story of two mice [platonic or otherwise], the show handles topics like hope vs nihilism. Nihilism, in this case, demonstrated by both characters. Nothing matters, so why not take over the world? [It has to matter, or else why did he suffer?] Nothing matters, so why not have fun and be kind along the way?

Hope is also what enables them to continue their plans for world domination, while the fear of not being good enough is why Brain hardly ever tries a scheme more than once. Despite the fact part of learning comes with figuring out where one's mistakes occurred. But Brain has trouble learning on an emotional level, because he's closed off. That is where his learned helplessness comes into play. We've seen time and time again that he has trouble being vulnerable because that means losing any semblance of control. Control over himself, as well as passing on the reigns to have another help him through his pain. But what if he's rejected? What if his pain is mocked, or the other sees his vulnerability and validates the fact that he is a failure?

To want is to face the possibility of pain. To hope can lead to loss. And the Brain has faced enough of that for a life time.

And none of this even covers the new theme that reboot has made of Brain being just like the humans he sees as monsters. Of how he has continued the cycle of abuse through Julia's creation and downfall. When you see the mouse dine at the table of humanity, it becomes hard to distinguish one from another.

Luckily Pinky is there as Brain's moral anchor. And I like to believe that Brain can be better, can remember that nothing matters so why not be kind in spite of it?

[solarbird]

I’m going to say one final thing about the Trump shooting, then turn the rest of this into a resource post, highlighting some useful information about Project 2025, JD Vance, and the two together, since there is some involvement.

I argued in the past that it doesn’t matter whether Trump’s ear was hit by a bullet or shrapnel, because it fucking doesn’t, it was still an assassination attempt. I’ve argued about how Democratic conspiracy theories give us more MAGA and give them something to counterbalance against January 6th.

But most importantly, going off about which happened gives Donald Trump more attention for something he wants attention about.

For a blessed few days, nobody was talking about the stinking orange buffoon, not really, and given that literally nothing changes about the story he wants to talk about if it’s shrapnel or if it’s a bullet, that was a really good thing. It was “fuckity-bye, ear” in the news and I was delighted for it.

Even talking about him overhyping the damage or whatever just gives it all more air.

Don’t give it – or him – any air. Don’t let him get up. Until and unless something actually major actually happens – not hypotheses or speculation, actually something major – keep it quiet, because it helps shift the focus back on him.

Keep the focus on Harris and on Vance. That’s what’s good for us. Not speculating about trivia nobody outside the obsessed cares about: himself, as victim.

Make sense? Good. I’m shutting up about it until and unless there’s some actual hard news, and I recommend you do too.

Have some more resources on Project 2025 and JD Vance; use them as appropriate when talking to your friends and family about the election, particularly the Trumpy ones:

This is a two-fer: Trump again denies Project 2025 — despite Vance writing foreword for chief architect’s book. This is the same book that calls progressives “unhumans” and praises the January 6th insurrectionists. So that’s fun.

You’ve heard the “childless cat ladies” with “no stake in America” quote, of course. Push comes to shove, he really doesn’t think women – certainly not childless women – should be able to vote. He doesn’t just come out and say it like the GOP candidate for governor in Nroth Carolina did, but it’s in there.

There are so many levels of Christofascism in the Project, here’s yet another one: A Jewish couple were rejected as foster parents because of their religion. This is the future Project 2025 envisions

FBI director issues warning on ‘frightening’ Project 2025, specifically its plans to make the FBI directly responsible not to the constitution but to one man, Donald Trump.

How J.D. Vance Went From Green Tech Investor to Climate Change Doubter – it’s about money and power, naturally.

JD Vance roadblocked dozens of US diplomats while he obsessed over their views on gay rights, because he really, really hates the queers.

Anybody remember the Spoils System in the Federal government? I kind of doubt it, because nobody – I mean, literally I’ve seen nobody – talks about it in relation to J.D. Vance’s radical plan to build a government of Trump loyalists based on Project 2025. Not only was it massively corrupt from top to bottom – absolute looting for the winning political party – but it even triggered the assassination of President James Garfield.

Enjoy this big collection of JD Vance being absolutely evil. He really hates women without children – no, he really hates women in general, and hating women who don’t have (white) children is only the start.

Here Vance supporting police tracking women’s periods for evidence of abortion.

There’s more, but this is getting pretty long. I’ll leave you with this last little nugget:

The AP had to take down their fact check about JD Vance never having sex with with a couch. This is because while he didn’t actually tell such a story in Hillbilly Elegy, they can’t prove a negative, so couch time is back on.

And with that, enjoy the weekend.

[askror]

Surge, what drew you to Lanolin? What is it that you like about her?

"Really? Hell of a hard question, pal." Surge rolled over to lie on her side with a fangly grimace. How did you explain that? Like, in words?

"I don't give a damn what people think about me usually. Probably doesn't help that I go out of my way to piss 'em off half the time, but even the ones I like can take me or leave me, no skin off my back." Yes, that was the way to do it. Play the question off with swagger and confidence! Or so she thought. Almost immediately she hit a roadblock. She couldn't say what followed while sounding like a badass. Just didn't work.

Confidence was gone. Her voice had dropped a bit: "Poofball's different. I mean, yeah, part of it was I just thought she was hot at first, but... I dunno, that first time I said something that actually got her smiling? Made my heart feel all weird." The pink in her cheeks became an outright red. "I think that was the first time I ever wanted to make somebody happy, at least that I can remember. Just so I could see that friggin' smile again."

It seemed so mundane, but it was something Surge knew was real. Something that went past simple attraction to places higher and stronger. What did you call that? Love? Like, romantic love? She didn't know. But as she herself began to grin, fond and distant, there was something she was sure of: one of the things she was most looking forward to about coming home was seeing that smile, even just one more time.

[sadnesslaughs]

The worst thing about dying is talking to HR the next morning.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“With all due respect. I didn’t intentionally miss the meeting. I died yesterday. It was on the news and everything. I even texted our boss after it happened, so he knew I wouldn’t be able to make it into the office.” Garth pleaded, not wanting to lose his comfy office job. It was hard for immortals to find work, mainly because most companies either closed or got suspicious of their employee that had been working there for over a hundred years.

That’s why Amiza was perfect. A large distributor of candy and snacks, the sort of company where the bosses only see you as a statistic on an excel sheet. No one cared if he stayed here for six hundred years, as long as he showed up on time. He also had great job security, knowing that both candy and snacks were goods that would never go out of fashion. It was practically an unsinkable business, and yet he hit a roadblock in his employment. Dying yesterday on his way to work.

“Ah, yes. The ‘death certificate’.” The HR manager, Tom, resisted the urge to use air quotes, instead doing the verbal equivalent of it, giving a snarky rise in his voice as he went over the word. “You would have us believe you died and came back to life? It’s not even Easter and Christ has risen. Splendid.”

“Ah, I’m not a god or anything.” Garth said, a little embarrassed by the comparison. He had gone through a cult stage in the early 1000s, something that most immortals did while they were young. After that weirdness, he never wanted to be referred to as a deity again.

“I was being sarcastic, Mr. Backlor. How do you expect us to believe any of this? People don’t come back to life.”

“What about during open heart surgery?”

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “In that case, they may sometimes come back. Though, I doubt any medical profession is deeming them dead during the surgery. I also assume they wouldn’t turn up to work a day after being declared dead. I want to believe you, Garth, I really do.” Tom lied, already having the termination email template on his screen. “But, you have to give me more to work with. Why shouldn’t we fire you?”

“Because I’m a great employee.” Garth thought that would be obvious. What other answer was he going to give in this situation?

“You’re a good employee. Not great. Great is reserved for people like myself.” Tom smirked, always happy to fluff his own feathers. The man’s arms crossing against his chest as he leaned into his chair, demonstrating the proper authority that comes with a position like his own.

Garth thought about that. “Didn’t you come to work late last Tuesday?”

That smirk shattered as Tom shifted forward, scowling. “I wasn’t aware I was being monitored by you. For your information, I had a terrible emergency that morning.” Tom wouldn’t say what that emergency was, not wanting to admit he got stuck waiting for fresh hash browns in a drive through.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just thinking that we’re kind of similar. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Similar? Tom fumed at the comparison, tapping away at his keyboard, writing Garth’s name into the empty boxes on his template. “Now that I think about it. Dying would void your employment contract. You wouldn’t even be able to sue us.”

“You can’t do that! I’m telling you, I died. I was even in the work parking lot when it happened. You can check the footage. Some idiot was speeding through the parking lot and they ran me over.”

Tom stopped typing, pausing. “Our car park?” Now he was nervous. A death at their workplace? One that had gotten news coverage? He sweated, wiping his forehead. “We… have signs around the parking lot telling people to slow down. We also have numerous safe crossing areas. You only have yourself to blame.”

Garth thought about the accident. He didn’t remember seeing any signs or crossings. He didn’t remember seeing much of anything except the hood of a car. “I don’t think there were any. I was in the old bit. The one that leads to the underground elevator.”

“Ah, one moment.” Tom hurriedly emailed Jenny, who organized their safety and upkeep, asking her to let him know if they had placed any signage or crossings on the underground parking level. When Jenny said they were doing that next week, Tom panicked. “Ah, why are we even having this discussion? Of course you’re not fired. We couldn’t fire a person for dying.”

Garth didn’t expect the sudden attitude shift, but was happy to hear he wasn’t on the chopping block. “You mean it? That’s great news. I thought I was a goner.” Garth offered his hand to Tom, who quickly shook it. “Yes. Actually, I think a promotion might be in order. To compensate you for your troubles. A great employee should be rewarded.”

“I thought you said I was only a good employee?”

“I didn��t want to ruin the surprise promotion.”

“That makes sense. I think?” Garth wasn’t born yesterday, so he knew what was going on. Even if he hadn’t intended to sue them, the thought of being sued was enough to deter them from firing him. After all, he didn’t want anyone looking too deeply into this either. It was hard enough trying to convince doctors you magically came back from the dead. You didn’t want lawyers also looking into your strange medical records.

“A ton of sense. Now, why don’t you get back to work? I’ll send the paperwork through for your promotion.”

“That sounds great.” Before Garth left, Tom reached over the desk, tapping his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I also might need you to make an address to whatever news company reported on the accident. Let them know it wasn’t as bad as initially reported. Just so we can sweep this whole mess under the rug,” Tom said, begging him to agree. The sooner they covered this up, the better it would be for them all.

“Sure. Bye Tom.”

“Bye Mr. Backlor.” Tom said, slouching in his chair as the man left. Glad he got that ticking lawsuit bomb out of his office. He just hoped he had diffused it, not wanting his own job to get caught in the blast if it went off.

[doevademe]

I originally had planned for this prompt to be about Percy and Nico remembering they were lovers in a previous life and trying to work through that, but the characters (especially Nico) resisted that plot. Oh well, maybe some other time.

Some other time has come. You can’t just tell us about this magnificent idea and not elaborate!

(It’s the notes from Mixing up the Routine)

Oh, now that takes me back.

Okay, so quick background on my WIPs: I have a lot of them. Some of them transform over and over until they become unrecognizable when I finally publish them. Some barely change and get published with just a few minor changes from their early stages, and some never see the light of day due to plot or characterization problems (or because I know fans would hunt me for sport with some of my more controversial ideas).

My fic about Percico as reincarnated lovers belongs to the latter category. Whenever I try to develop it, I hit a roadblock in either the plot department or the characters remaining in character means the story grinds to a halt. I've tried to rework it multiple times, but I've never been able to get it right. However, if you want, I can give out the latest outline for the story under the Read More, especially since I'm sure I'll never actually write it out.

The conflict starts with Percy and Nico having dreams about their past lives, where they see a person they are in love with (who they are changes a lot each attempt, sometimes they're both men, sometimes a man and a woman, once they were even two women). At first, they think this dreams are random and unimportant, but they are persistent, and once they realize it's their past lives, they become obsessed with finding the other.

Nico theorizes that he's getting these memories now because he's nearing the age when his past life met their lover, and thinks that him having those dreams means they can find each other again. He goes on an underworld adventure, trying to find some way to track his past lover.

Percy, meanwhile, is having an identity crisis. He's falling in love with a memory, while being days away from his wedding with whom he thought until just recently was his one true love, but how he feels for his past live lover... it makes this whole thing feel shallow and petty. He's also sad because Nico has been acting weird, and he knows he won't make it to his wedding, and that just hurts.

Nico appears before Percy the very day he calls off the wedding, and they are both confused. Percy was sure Nico would be away for longer, and Nico believed he was shadow traveling to his past life lover. Nico finally explains his absence and Percy realizes who they are to each other but... he doesn't feel for Nico the same as he did for past life lover, so what gives? Why is that?

Cue an investigation about what's happening, ending up with Percy and Nico realizing this isn't their second life. It's their third. Both times, they have found each other, and their love has made them as miserable as they have been happy. They always end up in tragedy and Percy had decided enough was enough.

It's revealed that before their last life began, Percy lied and said they'll go together like last time, but when Nico jumped into the Lethe to be reborn, and Percy didn't follow. Nico was born decades before Percy because of that. Then, he asked Aphrodite (in some drafts his mother, in other drafts through his father Hermes) to make sure he didn't fall in love with Nico in this life. To block out the feelings.

Once they learn this, Percy is convinced he did the right thing, because what happened to Nico while he was in love with him? Just pain and tragedy. Maybe it's for the best that they remain separated this life, give Nico a full life for once.

And here's where I hit a roadblock, because continuing from this to a happy ending requires Nico to fight to convince Percy they can be together, that this time will be different, but the thing is... why? Why would Nico want to fight for them when he feels like he's the only one with feelings in this life? What argument could be strong enough to compel Percy to undo the block? Only he can unlock his heart. Nico could ask Aphrodite, but that would be no different from forcing Percy to love him. The characters resist this plot having a happy ending, and I want this plot to have one.

So yeah, this is where I'm stuck, and any iteration of the reincarnation has been met with similar issues. I still like this plot a lot, but I really can't make it work, no matter how much I try.

[leonawriter]

When I think of all the different detco pairings, I usually think of the main ones, and so I'm all "yeah I ship all canon plus a few non-canon (AKA queer) on the side!" and actually I just... when I think about it?

It's funny, but there are a few side pairings that I'm not a big fan of. Some not as bad as others, sure, but still.

(under a cut for criticism and salt)

Shiratori, for instance, has changed a lot ever since he was introduced. Not talking about M3, more his initial plot line where he's basically only there to act as a roadblock to Takagi and Sato getting together. He wasn't especially likeable, mostly throwing his weight around as a "marriage candidate" and stalking anything potentially like a date.

I have to wonder if Gosho's views on his earlier characterisation of certain characters and plots has changed, since then. I was already in the fandom when the Sato/Takagi kiss happened, which would mean the other officers couldn't keep pursuing Sato in the same way and Gosho would have to figure out what to do with the ones he'd previously only used for that purpose.

But then we have things like the bookend gags in Bride of Halloween only a few years ago where there are fake "wedding" and "funeral" events that are gatecrashed by Sato's... "admirers," and I wonder how much has actually changed.

Shiratori himself has Kobayashi, the kids' schoolteacher, but... the fact that he'd only met her for a short time as a kid to the point that he thought someone who turned out to be a murderer was her just because they did the same sort of paper craft with their cup holders was a little... frustrating.

Every time I've gone through that I've been "that could have been her. That literally could have been her. She could have changed, and her life experiences could have shaped her and made her a different person, and you would have to live with that." It'd be such a great story to tell, that sometimes that just happens. And he could meet Kobayashi and get to know her as an adult, as a new person, with no assumptions and no sense of her being a replacement goldfish for someone who was a replacement goldfish for.... her.

Overall I don't have anything with regards to those two that makes me actively dislike them, it's just... "man, that could have been SO much better written."

The other one I'd say I have salt over - and for similar reasons, too! - would be Chiba and Naeko. Because again, they met as small tiny children, and never forgot each other, and grew up, and... haven't changed one bit.

Honestly, just... he could at least spice that up by making it so that one of them had attempted to date other people, and it didn't work out because they're hung up on a memory. But that just makes me think of them finally finding each other, and they're so caught up with how they remember the other being, that they don't even recognise each other at first! That? That'd be fun.

The thing I really dislike about Chiba/Naeko is that she tries to effectively control him for her own purposes; she pushes him (anonymously, which is even creepier!) to lose weight (which because we're in comic book time happens really quickly, which is concerning) and then when other women start finding her guy attractive, she encourages him (effectively) to put that weight back on and be unattractive to others again. Never mind whether or not he's healthier or happier either way, oh no! It's all about her feelings, insecurities, and not wanting competition.

It's like - the pairings are so very hit and miss. He'll either write something so good, or he'll write something and you wonder if he's ever been able to experience the world outside of his art studio in order to have friendships with women, or learn about modern issues and so on.

...I also dislike Kyougoku's misogyny toward Sonoko, which is a much bigger issue, what with him policing the way she dresses and being way too controlling of who she hangs out with, projecting his insecurity that she even might date other men onto her, no matter what she'd say about it, no matter if it's her idol-crush on Kaitou Kid (which is different from romantic love), or just... hanging out with friends who aren't girls.

Dude needs to lay off, seriously.

[nat-seal-well]

I’m going to the renaissance fair today so I probably won’t be on much, haha. I’m about to go get ready for it because that’s going to be a Process™️. But before I do that I wanted to share part of what I’ve been working on (since I hit a roadblock with my other wip again).

When Elena comes to, it happens in stages.

She is vaguely aware of her mind waking up, only to be pulled back under the sea of unconsciousness. Like the lull of ocean waves, advancing and retreating, she is one grain of sand picked up by the force of the water and helpless to do anything but ride it out. Conscious and then not. Conscious and then not. Over and over again, in a loop.

But tides go out eventually, and when hers does, she finds she’s able to stay awake for more than a few seconds. Here is the next stage. She is slow, groggy, and wakefulness comes sluggishly like it often does after a long night with Tina and cheap, flavored vodka.

The third stage is thought, and the thought in particular that she has is, I fucking hurt.

I fucking hurt is an understatement. If Elena wanted to be more precise, she wouldn’t have been able to tell herself anything at all, because she doesn’t have the words for it. The hurting is an all-over sort of pain, a compounded concretion of many different kinds all at the same time. Her muscles ache. Her head is killing her, above her right eye, where something feels gross and like it was wet once, but dry now. All of her limbs burn with the stinging of too many different cuts to count. And whatever is under her is hard and unyielding, like stone, which does nothing to help.

It occurs to her afterward that this is not normal. She should be—

She should be…

…Where should she be?

There is a gap in her memory that unnerves her exactly as much as it should, which is to say, a lot.

Through her closed eyelids, Elena can see that there is a light. Someone must have left it on, which is annoying. She already has a headache and the brightness of the light won’t do a single thing to help, so she elects to keep her eyes shut as she has a little, private, spiral of panic.

Okay, okay, okay, she says. C’mon. Don’t freak out. (Too late, but she can try.) What happened? What is the last thing you remember?

Where were you?

When Elena was in high school, she needed to fill one of her classes with an elective because she was an extremely uninteresting teenager and didn’t feel like having a free period. It was the only high school in Wayhaven—what was she going to do? Wander around town? That was what all the other kids did their last year, only taking a half-day because they already had all of their required credits, but Elena didn’t see the point in it. She had already spent endless weekends unsupervised and doing exactly that, when she wasn’t working short shifts part-time at a little boutique she hated. So she decided to take an Intro to Photography class, just for the hell of it.

They had her go out with one of those super old cameras, the kind from before everything went digital. The pictures had to be processed in chemical baths under a red light, the whole deal, and then hung up to dry and develop. Whatever the camera had captured an image of would start to show eventually, a little at a time, and Elena’s was spectacularly awful. It was a good thing the teacher graded based on participation.

Trying to remember feels a lot like that picture in the dark room.

It comes to her slowly, bit by bit. Fuzzy at first, it starts to clear up the further she pries into her own head, even though that is already voicing its complaint with the throbbing right above her eye.

[sometimesraven]

any writing advice for someone writing their first novel? (*cough, cough, aka me*)

<3

Disclaimer: what works for me might not work for you, so feel free to take, twist and scrap whatever you need. I recommend asking/shopping around for ideas and other authors' processes, and it'll take some trial and error before you find what works best for you. But here's how I personally write.

Disclaimer disclaimer: this got real long while I was writing it and I realised how terrifying it must look to a first time writer. Take it step by step, at your own pace. It's not as scary as it looks xx

BEFORE YOU WRITE

(I'm going to be focusing on the story itself, but I'm sure it goes without saying that you should have your characters planned out first)

First things first: have a basic idea of the story beats. It doesn't have to be a Big Old Detailed Outline, just a basic compass to keep you going in the right direction so you're less likely to hit a roadblock. Personally I use the Plot Embryo! Here's my favourite video explaining it:

It's a nice simplified, easy to use tool for plotting. Here's a page from one of my journals breaking it down in a way I can personally come back to and understand:

hopefully you can read my shitty handwriting but I've put a little breakdown in the image description.

I then use these prompts to scribble down the basic idea of what journey I want my main character/s to go through, and use that as my blueprint for when I write.

WHILE WRITING

First things first: if you're like me, and seeing errors or plot holes in the stuff you've already written will bug you forever, do what I do and NEVER READ BACK OVER YOUR WORK WHILE IT'S STILL IN PROGRESS. Sometimes I have to skim back to remember where I am but as a rule, once something is written it's no longer my problem until the whole thing is done.

Don't worry about chapters and other such structure. I use the plot embryo to split things up so I know where I am, but otherwise chapters and scenes Do Not Exist until the editing process. Here's the "chapters" of a WIP as an example (this is a slightly different embryo adapted for romance but you get the idea)

Then just keep going until you're done. You don't even have to do it in order. If I'm stuck on a scene, I'll just put a big word in all caps that I can ctrl+f easily (usually either ELEPHANT or PENIS sklfsgskjf) and move on to the next bit I have ideas for, then come back to it later.

This first finished story will be bad. It'll be rough, patchy, full of holes. THAT'S OKAY. This is what we sometimes call the "Zero Draft". The draft that literally exists just to get the story out of your head to make the whole thing easier.

EDITING

Warning: editing is the longest, hardest part of writing a novel. Your book will go through several different versions, be scrapped and torn apart and put back together again. This is what makes the story great.

This is where every author differs, and there's a whole bunch of ways this can go. Personally, the first thing I do once the zero/first draft is done is put it down. Don't look at it, don't touch it, don't think about it. For at least a month. This allows you to come back to it with fresh eyes that haven't been staring at the same words for so long they just hate the whole thing regardless (and you WILL HATE IT. This is normal).

Then, the first thing I do is read back over the whole thing, adding notes and reactions as if I am a reader. If a part of what I've written makes me go 🥺🥺🥺, I'll write that down. If something could be worded better, I write that down. If you think a certain thing that you would put in the tags of a tumblr post, write it down. Treat it like you're someone else's beta reader, note down every negative, every positive, every ???? part. This will give you an idea of what is and isn't working. Here's some of my funniest notes from my zero draft of book 2 just to prove how literal I'm being here:

Then, and this is a controversial move that doesn't work for everyone but it works for my autistic adhd self-loathing brain: WRITE THE WHOLE THING AGAIN. FROM SCRATCH.

This sounds daunting and it is, but you've already written it once, so the second time is easier. Usually I don't worry about making this perfect because again, this is just another draft. I'll copy from my zero draft anything that I think is fine and write new bits or scrap bits as I go.

Sometimes, the story is fine. Sometimes this is an easy refining process. However, if you're anything like me, sometimes the whole thing is messy and you'll realise halfway through rewriting that the whole thing needs restructuring. Do not despair. This is normal.

I'm using book 2 of the Truth Saga as an example for this. I got 40k words into rewriting it before I realised that the reason it felt so 'off' was because the whole thing was sagging in the middle, characters were being left behind, and the whole thing needed restructuring.

It was a rough realisation, as Reckless Truth (book 1) was such a comparatively easy process. I only did three drafts and didn't have to restructure much. Book 2 is giving me so much grief and I'm gonna slap it when it's done.

If you hit this roadblock, it might be time to do what all mood writers hate. Detailed plotting. Go right back to basics. Write down every plot point in detail this time. Act like you're spoiling the whole entire story for someone. Have you ever watched a movie or book review where the reviewer does a full breakdown of the plot? Do that. In this you'll find out exactly where you're going wrong and be able to tweak and fix it. If you have more than one main character, I recommend doing a separate plot thing for each of them and one for the book as a whole so that you can make sure their emotional arc is getting the attention it deserves.

Then, when you're happy with the new plot you've written based on the draft of your story, go back and try to rewrite it again. If this sounds like a nightmare, it is. But it's worth the work, I promise.

From there it's a case of rinse and repeat, reread, rewrite, re-edit until you're mostly happy with what you've got. Then send it to beta readers and editors to tear apart even more and put it back together until you think it's ready! I also recommend joining some writing discords, watching streams or videos about writing, just research research research basically

Happy writing!

[edwarddominicemilio]

REMEMBER, SEKIRO, HESITATE AND YOU LOSE

After almost three years since my initial playthrough of Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, I finally beat Sword Saint Isshin. It took me that long because I had been uninstalling and re-installing the game many times, often out of frustration.

I first played Sekiro on the second half of 2021. Back then, I was still in law school so I just wanted to have fun with what I thought was a button-masher. Oh, how wrong I was.

I barely got past the first miniboss, General Naomori Kawarada. When I beat him, I jumped out of excitement and exhilaration. However, I did not know how or why I beat him. I was mashing deflect like a madman, causing my character to flail his sword every which way. It was totally uncharacteristic of the graceful shinobi Wolf was supposed to be.

Unsurprisingly, my inability to learn why I succeeded (or failed) hindered me. I could not get past the Chained Ogre. I was angry. "This is not why I play video games," I told myself, "it's just stressing me out."

I quit playing Sekiro the first time.

I tried Sekiro again after I graduated from law school. This was around early 2023. I just took the Bar Exams and I had been waiting for the results. The discipline I developed throughout the Bar Review season taught me to persevere. I treated the game like a personal challenge.

I also learned how to strategize and to "play the game the way it is meant to be played". This meant abiding by that humorous description of Sekiro: "Sekiro is not an action game, it is a rhythm game with swords." How witty!

So, I practiced timing my deflects properly. I treated each fight like a dance. The opponents swings and I deflect. Then, I listen to that glorious CLANG! that everyone who plays this game knows and loves. Once I hear it, I swing my own sword. CLING! CLANG! CLING! CLANG! Deathblow!

Heavenly.

But there is a final roadblock just before the end. Sword Saint Isshin Ashina, back from the dead courtesy of his grandson's necromancy, killed me more times than I can count.

In fact, I became so disheartened. Was I not playing the game correctly? That can't be. In fact, I can see my improvement! Genichiro was impossible to beat in the beginning, he was a challenge in the middle, and a pushover by the end. I was improving, was I not? Why don't deflects work?!

I quit playing Sekiro for the second time.

After a year, I started playing Sekiro again on March 2024. It was a new save file. Unsurprisingly, everything before Sword Saint Isshin was a breeze. It was objective proof that I was improving.

But when I reached him, I was still at a loss. What was I doing wrong?

Then, I took to heart what he said every time he killed me, his ubiquitous boss dialogue: "Hesitation is defeat". This is not him mocking me, this is him genuinely trying to give me advice. "Remember Sekiro," he says, "hesitate and you lose."

So, I changed my ways. I stopped being a passive partner in this magnificent sword dance. I became aggressive, I chased him. I did not allow him any chance to breathe. He swings, I deflect. He prepares a big wind-up attack, I dodge. He thrusts, I Mikiri. But after each defensive maneuver, I swing back.

I made it a point to be the attacker and to stay as the attacker. Hell, when he hit me, I didn't heal. I just told myself, "Fuck it. He's not gonna hit me again. I can deflect the next ones. Retaining this offensive momentum is worth the risk."

That's when everything clicked.

See, the best thing about Sekiro is how much faith it has in the gamer's indomitable will. You had to beat the game straight up. No, you cannot summon other players or spirits to fight for you. No, you cannot find an exploitable grinding spot to level your character up. No, there is no easy cheese. You just had to "git gud".

And "git gud" I did.

A year ago, landing a hit against Phase 1 Isshin was a miracle. Some days ago, I got Phase 1 Isshin to almost broken posture. Yesterday, I killed Phase 1 Isshin the first time. This morning, I beat Phase 1 Isshin effortlessly. This afternoon, I reached Phase 3 for the first time after spending an entire day learning how to beat his dreaded Phase 2.

In a sense, the strategy to beat his Phase 3 is almost metaphorical. Jumping to meet the lightning and throwing it back at him is symbolic of how you should meet his aggression head-on.

When I beat him, I did not jump for joy in the same way I did when I beat General Naomori Kawarada. Instead, I just whispered, "Fuck. I did it," to myself.

I trusted the process and applied the learnings. Beating him was inevitable. I was not surprised when I did.

That's the way life works too, isn't it? One has to stand up straight and meet life head on. One has to take action.

Thank you, Kensei, for teaching me not to hesitate.

[babygirlrex0504]

The Bounty Pt 3

You and Mando now have the bounty! Trying to ignore the fact that he is a child of the force, you struggle on bringing the child back to the client and facing Mando to tell him. After having help with Kuiil getting back the Razor Crest pieces, Mando and you take the child back to the client. Mando now knows the child has “powers” he still doesn’t know you do as of yet. Will you show him soon?

A/N: Guys these parts have turn into a series, I didn’t realize how many people actually enjoyed it. So for right now, I am gonna be focusing on the two series that I have. Eventually I will get to the other stories I have planned in the Masterlist but for right now these two are my main focus! Also if you want to be added to the tag list more then welcome to comment!

Masterlist

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Masterlist

Clan of Three

Bounty Mini Series

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Mando was quiet, he usually is quiet but ever since the Child saved him from the Mudhorn, he has been eerie quiet. You didn’t want to bug him since it is something you have to process. As he did so you watched the child like a hawk, he would get into one of the pieces on the ship’s dashboard, that was shaped as a ball. He loved it.

You held him and brought him down from the cockpit after Mando said that they will be landing soon. You had to put him back in his egg. You felt your stomach drop. This is wrong. You can’t just give a child with the force to the Empire. When you sent him down he gave you a toothy grin.

“Remember my young padawan learner,” The voice of your teacher rang through your mind. “Jedi must protect each other, we are all one with the force. We are all brothers and sisters.”

You pet one of its ears and frowned. “I’m sorry little one.” You whispered. You heard the rumble of the ship hit the atmosphere. You sighed and put your hood up.

Mando came down the ladder and looked down at the kid then up at you. You stared into his visor and looked away opening the ramp. As you walked through the village people would stare as you both walked past. When you got to the door, you felt sick and wrong. “I am going to stay out here,” You said looking down at the kid. Mando looked at you about to say something. “No I can’t…I can’t. Meet you in the cantina.”

As you walked away you heard the coos from the child. Your heart sinking more. “Remember my young padawan learner. Jedi must protect each other, we are all one with the force. We are all brothers and sisters.”

Her voice rang over and over again, repeating it like a broken record. You remembered as that young with your doe eyes making that promise. The promise to never leave someone behind, never. Now now you are, breaking that promise. You stopped mid track as you looked back for a moment then waiting outside of the cantina for Mando.

“What if there are too many roadblocks master?” You asked as she knelt down to have you eye leveled with you.

She smiled at you, the kind of smile that a mother would give their child. The smile that made you feel at home. “The force will guide you and help you through the roadblocks,” she paused and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Let it flow through you. If I am not their physically to help you. I am there through the force.”

When you opened your eyes you saw a silver shining metal walking towards you. Mando, he did it. You cursed yourself for not stopping him. Mando walked up to you and nodded before following him into the cantina. “Mando! Y/N! They all hate you,” You turned to face all the glared and stares from the other hunters. “Because you’re legends.” Greef said smiling brightly.

You stared blankly at him, you weren’t in the mood, you wanted to go back and raid the building. Grab the child and leave. Even if that meant leaving Mando. “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Mando asked grimly.

Greef scoffed at the comment before motioning around the room. “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you two,” then came his smirk he scoffed once more. “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen.” He lifts the side of his jacket to reveal more beskar. I glared for a moment then straighten up.

Everyone was part of this? Being okay with the child being thrown in the hands of the most dangerous people? You took a breath in and noticed that Mando was sitting down. You followed him and sat next to him. You didn’t say a word as they exchanged words and eventually more jobs. You stared at the puck Mando had then back in the cantina.

Mando nudged you to scoot out. “Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?”

“It?” You whispered both Mando and agreed looked at me. You didn’t realize you said it out loud more importantly how you said it.

Instead of saying anything they continued. “I didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild Code.”

“They work for the Empire.” You said gritting your teeth. You can feel the anger building up. You tried to make yourself more calm but couldn’t stop thinking about what they would do to the kid.

“What are they doing here?” Mando added looking down at him.

“The Empire is gone. All that is left is mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you that much just go back to the Core and report it to the New Republic.” He explained.

You rolled your eyes and Mando scoffed. “That’s a joke.”

“Both of you enjoy your rewards. Buy some camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperspace you will have forgotten all about it.” Greef leaned back smiling at us.

You shook your head and both of you walked out. It was quiet between the two of you. “We shouldn’t leave the kid like that,” You whispered as you passed by people. “Who knows what they are going…”

“Let’s get going.” Mando said interrupting. At first you thought to step back and just leave to get the kid. However your sabers were in the Razor and you knew if you were gonna storm there you needed them.

When you went inside the Razor, you waited until Mando was out of sight. You hurried and grabbed the things you needed and heard the ship power on and closely powered off. You snapped you head up to the ladder as you shoved the sabers in the back pocket. “Let’s go.” He said grabbing weapons.

You smiled at him and followed him out. It was like a blur as you both walked through the town. When you both reached the alley that they were located he turned to you. “We sneak from the back, I will get the door to distract them.”

You nodded your head as you both part ways for the moment. You started to plant the small bombs against the wall. You left one of your hands against the wall, finding where they kept the kid. “Ready?” Mando asked distracting you.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You and Mando stood a good couple feet away blowing a hole through the wall. Alarms blared as you stepped through the hole, shooting at anything that moved. Mando right behind you doing the same. You hurried through the hallways and stopped at the door that you felt the force strongly at.

When opening it the doctor cowardly put his hands up. Mando walked towards the child as you aimed your gun to the doctor’s head. “No no no don’t hurt it. It’s just a child! Please please! If it wasn’t for me it would be dead!”

“What did you do to it?” Mando asked picking him up.

You pressed the gun against the doctor’s head. “What did you do to jt!” You yelled.

“I saved it, they wanted it dead but I saved it.” He said over and over again. You looked up to see Mando heading for the door, you followed him out.

Mando and you walked fast but cautiously towards the door. Shooting at the troopers that found their way toward you. When you reached to the main room, that you both made the deal at. There was no one in there. “For a fortified building you would th…”

“Freeze!”

You turned and saw four stormtroopers surrounding the both of you. You slowly put you hands up, getting ready to use the force to place your sabers in your hands. “Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable,” Mando interrupted placing his weapon and the child down. You looked at him questioning his move. “Here.” Ignoring my stare.

That’s when you heard whistling and air brush pass you. You heard the troopers around you gurgle and call to the ground. You looked around to see smoke coming from their armor. “New toy?” You tease smiling at him.

Mando shrugged picking up the child. “Yeah something like that.”

You both hurried out cautiously, immediately noticing how quiet it was outside too. No one was out and about, walking around, selling. Nothing. “Mando! Y/N! Welcome back! Now put the package down.” Greef ordered as other Hunters came around every corner and roof.

You looked around and felt the force once again. You looked down at the child and he was sleeping. “When you need to young one fight and kill to protect yourself and others who can not fight for themselves. That is the only time.”

“But isn’t what Master Yoda said not to do?” You asked looking up at your master.

She half smiled and put her hand on your shoulder. “Yes he did but you have to survive. And so does others.”

You looked down at your shoes. “How would I know?”

“Trust in the force,” She said getting to your level. “Only trust in the force. It will guide you on what to do.”

You heard a blaster bolt passed you as Mando dived into the carriage that a droid would drive. You went in as well as the droid started driving, having blaster bolts fly passed both of your heads. You thought that you both would make it until you felt the crash into the side with smoke coming from the droid.

It was quiet for a moment, you watched as Mando brought his rifle out. “Protect it.”

You looked down at the child as Mando shot a couple of shots. You held him laying down on your side, protecting him. He stirred and looked at you. “No matter what young one protect your own.”

Mando shot back as the blaster bolts came flying pass your heads. Mando looked over at you then the kid. You sighed and stood up, you felt someone grab your arm to pull you down but you already grabbed one of your sabers. Igniting it, the shine of the s/c illuminates around you. Everything seemed to slow and still, you felt the hand slowly releasing your arm.

You pulled out the other saber igniting it as well. That’s when the blaster fire hit, you swung both of your sabers deflecting the bolts hitting them into the owner. Some you made sure would hit near others that would coward away. You looked down at Mando. “Come on!”

That’s when you both heard noises above you, looking up you saw more Mandalorians. Your eyes went wide as you saw them defending for you both to flee. Mando hopped all the way out holding the child close to his chest as he shot his pistol towards the hunters. One hunter came close to you as you swung slicing his chest, having him stubble backwards.

“This is the way.” You heard Mando’s voice through the yelling and blaster fire. Mando looked over at you and nudged over to where the Razor Crest was at.

As you both ran towards the exit you would block any sort of fire towards him and the child. Some of course would zoom pass hitting near all three of you. Mando and You were about to run on the ramp when you heard a voice behind you both. “Hold it you two,” You both slowly turned. Greef he was pointing his gun at the both of you. “I didn’t want to come to this but you both broke the code.”

Before you could say anything Mando shot him making him fall back. You turned to him and he shrugged running up the ladder with the kid. You followed behind as he started up the Crest, he was still out on the chair. You watched as the Crest rose up to head out. You watched as it left the town behind, you started to relax when you heard something fly next to you.

Mando and you looked over at the window and saw another Mandalorian. They waved you down and Mando shook his head. “I gotta get me one of those.”

You heard the child coo snapping your head down. “Hey little guy.” You said picking him up.

Mando side glanced over. “Probably should feed it.” His voice was off and didn’t look over at you.

“Yeah I will find him something.” You mumbled walking out. You took one glance over before going down.

Couple of hours passed as you wrapped the little one and placed him in the small bed that was tucked in the corner of the room. You tucked things away, cleaning the area that you cooked up a small bowl of soup you made for the kid. You brought your sabers out looking down at them.

You can’t believe that you showed yourself. Not to just him but to everyone there, now you will be a bounty just as much as the child. You inhaled deeply looking over at the sleeping child. You heard footsteps as they stopped, you looked over to see Mando standing next to the ladder looking at you.

You looked away and placed your sabers up in the container up on the top shelf. “So you hid the swords there?” He said leaning against the wall.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You said softly.

It was quiet for a moment. “What are you?” He murmured.

You sighed. “Mando…”

“No I deserve to know,” He walked up to you getting close and inches from your face. You saw your reflection through the chrome of his helmet. What were you… “After that whole thing down there. I…You…” He sighed looking away before looking back at you. “What are you?”

“Never be ashamed of who you are,” Both you and your master sat in the garden that was located on the temple grounds. The sun beamed hitting the color of the flowers and the large tree. That day you were scared on using the force from stories that other children talked about. You were 4. Young. Freshly trying to levitate an object. You looked down. “Being a jedi is far more greater then anything else in the galaxy. But it is also a greater responsibility. You will learn Y/N. One day.” She held your hand and smiled at you.

“I’m not a monster,” You chuckled. “I’m a Jedi.”