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ghoste-catte · 3 years ago

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I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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Sovereign Talks (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil Genre: Bit of angst sandwiched between two pieces of fluff Rating: T for language Notes: Another partially/selectively mute reader story! Again, this is somewhat self indulgent, essentially being a self-insert story with edits to make it better for a wider audience. PS Daniela says some stuff that's kinda insulting, though it's out of misunderstanding rather than poor intentions, and she tries to make up for it. Also, some of the descriptions of the reader's muteness might not make sense to everyone, as I'm essentially describing how it feels for me, personally. Summary: Daniela's favorite servant is sweet, charming, eager to please, all the things she wants from a romantic partner. But there's one detail she's never quite understood. An argument, a discussion, an inevitability.

Try as you might, it was nigh impossible to please your employer. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong, and Daniela Dimitrescu was more than pleased to point it out to you. At least her intentions weren’t severe. It didn’t really bother her if you missed a spot while dusting, or if you accidentally stumbled upon a ‘private’ conversation. What mattered to her, at the end of the day, was having material to tease you with, or ‘bargain’ with. She’d approach you slowly, musing out loud about your chores. Then she’d point out a flaw, smirking ever so slightly, before placing a finger beneath your chin. You’d make awkward eye contact, desperate to get out of the situation.

And then she’d tell you exactly what she wanted from you.

Most days it was simple enough. Or at least it had been at the start, when she first sought you out. ‘Carry these books for me’, she’d say, beckoning you to follow her. ‘Make a copy of this poem so I can return the book to Duke’, she’d command. Every single time you were powerless to refuse. Hell, you couldn’t even say anything if you wanted to. So you did as she asked. In time, you came to realize the truth behind her actions, the center of her motivations: She wanted to spend time with you.

You had been baffled, at first, to connect the dots in such a way. But Daniela made no attempt to hide her feelings, letting her touches linger on your skin, smiling without any cruelty when you were near. Once, she had even covered for you after you broke a vase. When you had tried to protest, hands waving, mouth refusing to speak, she had shrugged you off with a simple ‘you are worth the price’. Ever since then, the two of you had been rather close. Sure, she had never officially asked you on a date, but she had held your hand while the two of you read. And she had held you, swaying back and forth, as music played in a distant room. Then there were the times she caught you in the corridor, pressing you against the wall for a quick kiss… or a long one, that is. Certainly that meant something? Otherwise you’d look quite silly, blushing as hard as you tended to.

Eventually your concerns subsided considerably. It took a long, difficult conversation, however, and an argument you’d never forget…

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“Have you read Crier’s War yet?” Daniela asked, looking at you over her own book. The two of you were in her personal study, near the library, lounging in peaceful quiet. Well, it had been quiet. At her question you glance up, ensuring you made eye contact before shaking your head no. “I think you’d like it. Impossible love between two people from vastly different cultures, who start out opposed… sounds familiar, hmm?” This time you nod, laughing a little under your breath. Then you’re returning to your novel, oblivious to the way your partner is watching you, her eyes narrowed. When she catches your attention once more, it’s with a question you had hoped she would never ask. “Why don’t you talk?”

Trying to hide your discomfort, you practically bury your nose in your book, refusing to look up at Daniela. In response she grabs your notepad, slowly sliding it closer to you. For every second of silence she moves it another centimeter. With a slight groan you give in, snatching it from her hands, but sending her a glare as you do. Quickly you grab your pen and scrawl her a note. Not an answer, rather a question of your own.

“Why does it matter?” Clearly that wasn’t what she was looking for, as she leans back and gives a groan of her own.

“Seriously? I’m just curious. You can laugh, groan, make other, nice little noises… I just want to know how you work,” Daniela explained, frowning all the while. Admittedly, you understand where she’s coming from. But that didn’t mean that you were terribly comfortable with this conversation. In fact, it’s a subject you’ve been dreading ever since the two of you started ‘dating’. How exactly were you supposed to explain your condition? Especially without being able to talk directly through it?

“It’s complicated,” you write, angling the paper so Daniela can read it from her side of the table. But she only spares it a quick glance, before staring hard at you again. “Fine, babe. My mouth feels like static. My tongue is heavy, and trying to talk is like walking when both your legs are asleep. There’s never not a lump in my throat.” Now she’s reading attentively, frown vanishing, replaced by a confused expression. Shifting awkwardly, you internally pray that she doesn’t have any follow up questions. Alas, there are no gods on your side this day.

“Did something happen? Or were you… born like this?” Daniela asked, watching you closely. Frustrated, you give her a pleading look, hoping that she’d get the message and back off. Instead she doubles down. “We could arrange for a doctor to come out here, if that’s what you need. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a multifaceted issue, and-” you have to turn the page to continue writing at this point- “a very personal one. But if you must know, it has to do with my anxiety.” There’s a pause, and for a few seconds you think the conversation is over. The relief that floods your chest only lasts a single moment. Then you’re face to face with Daniela, who’s leaning across the table, eyeing you with an expression you can’t make sense of. Now your heart is racing, leaving you trembling.

“So… it’s not a matter of whether or not you can talk at all? It’s a choice?” Daniela questioned, sounding aggravated. Instantly you’re shaking your head, scowling at her interpretation of your words. “What, you’re saying you can’t even relax enough to talk around me? Your fucking girlfriend?” This was exactly the sort of thing you had been worried about. How could you expect Daniela to understand the way your mind locked your jaw in place? How could she ever realize how terrifying the whole castle was?

“Calm down and let me elaborate, please,” you write, as fast as you can. But Daniela yanks your notebook away from you, tossing it to the side. All you can do is stare at her in shock. This was more than just a misunderstanding, this was her actively sabotaging your only reliable method of communication.

“You want me to calm down? Can’t you see why I’m upset? I just found out my partner isn’t comfortable around me. We could have been talking all this goddamn time! Why haven’t you told me this before? Why haven’t we worked on this?” Daniela was practically yelling now, and both of you had risen to your feet. You’ve backed away a meter or so, only for her to close the space between you, one hand cupping your cheek. No matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes. “C’mon, please,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Tears are starting to cloud your vision. “Say something. Anything.”

Wordlessly, you pull yourself from her grasp, too overwhelmed to do anything other than let your feet carry you out of the room. Half to your relief, half to your misery, Daniela doesn’t lift a finger to stop you.

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

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you ‘talked’ to Daniela. Ever since, she had been avoiding you, and you her. Hell, for three days you struggled more than usual to communicate with anyone because you hadn’t dared to go back for your notebook. In the end someone had found you a new one. It didn’t quite feel the same though, considering your normal one had been a gift… a gift from the very person who had taken it away from you. For two weeks it had felt like every single thing was another reminder of your loneliness. You wanted desperately to fix your situation, but had no clue where to even begin. Until an irritated Cassandra hatched a devious plan, that is.

You weren’t privy to the specific details of her scheme, and could only guess as to her motivations (presumably being annoyed by Daniela’s sulking). All you really knew was that one moment you were following the middle child, supposedly to assist her with organizing something, and the next you were being shoved in an unfamiliar room. Inside, Bela was trying to stall Daniela, making up a ridiculous excuse for her to be there. As soon as you entered, the eldest daughter made a beeline (flyline?) towards the exit. Before either you or your girlfriend could process what was happening, the door had been shut and locked, trapping the two of you within.

“What the fuck?” Daniela asked, temporarily ignoring you in favor of pounding on the door. It didn’t budge, unsurprisingly, but someone outside did yell in response. Not that you could make out what the muffled voice was saying. “Ugh, I swear I am going to kill them for this.” Unable to get out, she finally turns to look at you. In an instant the anger drains from her face, replaced with a bittersweet smile. There’s enough tension in the room to weigh the corners of your lips down. It’s getting harder to breathe, and you can’t quite look Daniela in the eyes. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, if they’re going to be assholes, we might as well make the most of it, right?” She asked, voice a million times softer than you would have expected, considering your previous conversation. With that she moves to sit down, gesturing for you to join her.

“Mmm?” You ‘say’, really just making a confused humming sound. For once, you do want to talk. More than any other time you’ve wanted to. But your tongue was caught in the bear trap your teeth represented, preventing almost any sound from escaping. Still, this is a side of Daniela that you do not often see, with how prideful she tended to be. All it takes to get you to move is for her to pat the spot next to her. Then you’re shifting, blushing hard as you lower yourself onto the couch. Not quite ready to meet her gaze, you stare at your thumbs, twiddling them like an anxious child.

“Bela seems to think that I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you,” Daniela mused, more to herself than to you. One of her hands slides towards you, however, eagerly intertwining her fingers with your own. After two whole weeks of isolation… it’s an amazing feeling. “I said something stupid. It’s been driving me mad, and I have no clue what to do about it. Fuck-” she flinches as she speaks, eyes clamping shut- “I just want to fix this. I want you to feel good around me. I want you to feel the same way I do. More than anything, I want to be your safe haven.”

Your eyes meet, finally, as warmth floods your chest. Words fail you, as they are wont to do, so you leave them behind. Instead you reach for your stars- the body of your girlfriend, pulling yourself into her arms. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, you are smiling softly, overwhelmed by the embrace. Soon enough you can feel Daniela rubbing soft circles into your back with her fingers. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head, enjoying the hug too much to pull back even the slightest bit.

“Is there anything I can do? Anything to make you more comfortable?” She asked, for a moment not even realizing the difficulty you would have with responding. Finally connecting the dots, she changes the position of her arms, ensuring that you could stay in her lap while still being able to gesture with your hands. Instead of replying, your first concern is to gently cup your girlfriend’s cheek. Then you place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my everything, you know that, right?” Daniela whispered, sounding almost in awe. Suddenly you’re possessed by a rush of courage, clearly bolstered by her affection, and you move without thinking. You lean back in for another kiss, hand moving to the back of her head for stability.

Both of you are smiling now, even as your kiss gets more intense, the two of you pressing against each other as best as you can. One of Daniela’s hands runs itself through your hair, before taking it in a loose grip. All you can think about is how right this feels. Your heart is racing, especially as your girlfriend switches to an open mouth kiss, letting her tongue slide across your lips. It catches you off guard, and you need to pull back to catch the breath she had so eagerly stolen. Even then you swear you can feel her pulse pounding just as hard as yours is.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Daniela murmured, embarrassed, worried that you had stopped for a very different reason. In response you shake your head a little, then practically smother her face in tiny kisses. She’s giggling at that, grinning, all of her anxiety fading away. Most of yours does too. Everything feels perfect. So much so, in fact, that you feel something you haven’t felt in almost an entire year: The loosening of your jaw muscles. Clarity unstiffens your tongue, making age-old static clear up. Can I…? You wonder, wanting so desperately to use this opportunity as best as you can. After all, who knew when you’d ever be this comfortable within the castle again. Hell, the thought alone makes you more nervous, and you struggle to think of something, anything, to say.

“L-l… Love,” you stuttered, barely getting the syllable out, mouth feeling incredibly dry, mind racing, hating how it sounds because holy shit you haven’t talked in a year and was Daniela going to hate your voice and forget all about what you were saying and ruin the moment or worse was she going to hate you or thoughts thoughts pounding in your head like a hurricane, because because because-......................... Anxiety, above all else, was an asshole. One that had prevented you from hundreds of conversations, and limited a thousand more. Now, moments after finally speaking, your mind is on the brink of a tear-worthy breakdown. But you’ve said your piece, and by God has it been received.

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!” Daniela cried, equally overwhelmed, for a far different reason. She’s holding you as close as she can, burying her face in your neck. Likewise you rest yourself against her, letting your eyes drift shut, happy beyond description. There were still things you had to talk about, yes, and you would once more have to rely on your trusty notebook. Daniela had a lot to learn, to understand, but this was a start. More than that, it was the first step after the mending of a broken bone. Everything to come would be far, far easier, a labor of love done fearlessly.

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“Should we open the door now? Or at least unlock it?... How long does it take two idiots to stop being mad at each other?” Cassandra asked, leaning against the hallway wall. Meanwhile Bela had her ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on within. Sure, she had gone along with her younger sister’s plan, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced that it wouldn’t end in disaster. Then again, so far so good. No yelling, no (loud) crying, just some quiet words from Daniela. Maybe they’re working things out, Bela thought, starting to smile. And then she heard something she’d never forget…

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!”

“We are not opening that door,” Bela replied, suddenly, her ears burning red. She didn’t know how things had gone from so quiet to so potentially dirty in such a short amount of time, and she did not care. Without even a hint of an explanation, she turned to leave, desperate to get certain mental images out of her head...

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #yes the ending is a bit of a joke #ps i know it might not be everyone's cup of tea #especially since the reader does end up saying something #i went back and forth on that part for awhile #but again this is really self indulgent #and personally it worked better for me??#like i can occasionally force myself to say something even when my mouth isn't cooperating #and if anyone can make me do that it's someone i love #like my best friend who i kind of also loved romantically at one point #this is a literal example #anyway enjoy

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ineffable-snowman · 4 years ago

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(apologies in advance to the people who followed me for Good Omens. I’m diving headfirst into a new fandom, so I’m afraid there’s going to be a lot of Sambucky in the next three weeks at least...)

I wrote a fic inspired by episode 3 of FATWS. Read it here or on AO3.

Trouble Man

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.”

What kind of passive-aggressive bullshit was that? It was annoying enough that Zemo insisted on calling him ‘James’ in that patronising way of his but now he tried to lecture him or rather tried to make him look stupid, uncultured and ignorant. Bucky wanted to laugh at Zemo’s comment that sounded more like he was quoting a Wikipedia article to appear sophisticated, but then Sam spoke up.

“He is out of line – but he is right.”

Fuck Zemo. Seriously, Bucky had enough reason to hate Zemo but this was on another level. This was personal. He made Bucky look stupid, uncultured and ignorant in front of Sam. And the thing was, he was mostly ignorant about Marvin Gaye. He had listened to some of the tracks from Trouble Man just because they were on Steve’s list, and had quickly decided that it was not his kind of music. Now he wished he had at least listened to the whole album so he could contribute more than a weak “I like Marvin Gaye”, which fooled absolutely no one. He had no idea how a simple conversation about music had escalated like this. It had seemed like perfectly normal banter, Sam making fun of him for being old-fashioned, and then Zemo had interfered with that comment and it was downhill from there.

For some reason Sam was very passionate about Marvin Gaye and Bucky was intent on finding out why. Also, he needed to find out how music could be “complete, comprehensive” and “capture the African-American experience.” In his experience, music was used for dancing and for fun and that’s all there was to it. He stared at the notebook. There was some really good advice in it, like Thai food or Star Wars. So far, Bucky had not seen the appeal of Marvin Gaye. But apparently Steve had. If Steve had adored the music so much, why had he just simply crossed it out in a neat line and not, for example, put an exclamation mark behind it? Bucky added two exclamation marks.

Right, how to do this? Not for the first time he regretted just getting a simple flip phone instead of one of those fancy smartphones. When the shop assistant had told him that he needed a phone for taking photos and listening to music, Bucky had almost laughed at him. Talking about stupid… He could really use Youtube or Google now.

“Do you have a computer with internet?” he asked Sharon.

She looked at him like he was stupid (it was becoming a theme) but showed him to a computer and even gave him earphones. Then he started to listen to Trouble Man and this time did not skip any tracks but listened to the whole songs. He also googled the lyrics but that did not leave him any the wiser. Doctor Raynor would probably tell him to use his goddamn mouth and just ask someone, for heaven’s sake. He would rather get frozen again than ask Zemo. But it also felt extremely wrong that Zemo, who was supposed to be one of the bad guys, seemed to know and understand Sam better than Bucky, who was supposed to be Sam’s…whatever. Were they friends? Bucky certainly considered Sam a friend (although he never would say it out oud), probably the only friend he had left. Someone who texted you and asked you how you were and invited you to lunch was a friend, right? Someone who even saved your ass and (repeatedly) broke the law for you was a very good friend. But did Sam consider someone his friend who did not text back, who repeatedly got him into trouble, kept things from him and had even tried to kill him? Bucky stared at the screen. It was a miracle Sam had not tried to kill him yet. It was even more of a miracle that he was still being nice (sometimes). He googled “Trouble Man” and “African-American experience��. To his disappointment, it was not a quote from a Wikipedia article. So Zemo knew what was going on and Bucky did not. He turned up the volume and tried to make sense of the lyrics (“Got me singin' – yeah, yeah – Hoo“).

“Finally doing some catching up on the good stuff?”

Bucky turned around so quickly that the earphones were ripped out of his ears. Sam had put up his hands in defence and was babbling something about attacking or not attacking or whatever.

“Jesus.” Bucky consciously unclenched his left fist. “Couldn’t you just knock?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.” Sam pointed at the screen where the Youtube video of Trouble Man was still running. “I knew it,” he said gleefully. “You have no idea who Marvin Gaye is.”

“I do!” Bucky protested but then trailed off because he may have heard some of Gaye’s songs but he still did not know who Marvin Gaye was.

“So.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think? Honestly.”

Bucky looked from Sam to the screen to the dangling earphones. I like it was not an appropriate answer. Not an honest one. “I don’t get it,” he finally said.

“No appreciation for good music.” Sam sighed dramatically. “Hopeless. Stuck in the 40s forever.”

Bucky could have left it at that. They were on common ground again, bickering but not hurting each other, it felt familiar, safe. “No,” he said nevertheless. “I – how? How is this music – how does it…capture the African-American experience? Most of the songs don’t even have lyrics.”

“You don’t need lyrics for music to be meaningful.”

“How? Is it because people listen to it in certain situations or…?”

“Alright. Ready for a lesson on 20th century music? You better take notes.”

Bucky opened the notebook and took a pen. Then he noticed Sam’s grin. Right, he hadn’t meant it literally. But now Bucky had already opened the notebook and he was determined to go through with it. So he wrote down all the names Sam dropped, the musical genres and important songs. It was a lot and, as a lot of things, it confused Bucky but he just rolled with it. So some bands destroyed instruments on stage and certain music apparently had a soul? Great. Speaking of souls, this was probably the right time for some soul-gazing to show Sam that he was actively listening. (Doctor Raynor would be so proud of him.) Sam kept bringing up the soul thing several more times until finally Bucky could not keep quiet any longer.

“What’s with this soul music? Is it, like…music for funerals?”

Sam stared at him. Bucky stared back.

“Okay, scoot over.” Sam squeezed on the chair next to Bucky so Bucky almost fell over on the other side. Then he reached over Bucky to grab the mouse, opened another tab and chose a Youtube video for Bucky to listen to. “This is soul music.”

It was highly uncomfortable because the chair was not made for two people and they both weren’t exactly small but Bucky was resolved to stay on the chair, at least with one thigh. Sam chose video after video, pointed out characteristic musical features, quoted parts of the lyrics and talked about the history or the significance the songs. It was still a lot and Bucky still did not get everything but he dutifully took notes to look up some things in detail later. When he had filled the sixth page in his notebook, Sam stopped the music lesson.

“So, 40s music. Any recommendations?”

Bucky turned to face him. They were awfully close. Sam’s eyes were somehow very soft, there was the hint of a smile on his lips and he looked very huggable in that thin turtleneck – and he looked genuinely interested in Bucky’s answer. Bucky felt hot shame flooding him. Sam could be aggravating and an outright asshole but he was too kind for this world. Too kind to Bucky.

“Nah,” he mumbled. “Music in the 40s was just for dancing, for fun. Not…not important like your music.”

“Oh, you can dance just fine to my music,” Sam said in mock outrage. “Come on.” He elbowed Bucky out of the chair and chose another Youtube video, then stood up, too.

“Soul music?” Bucky guessed when the first chords of an electric guitar could be heard.

“Funk. Close enough.”

Sam started to move to the music. It should be ridiculous, the weird moves he was doing, because that certainly wasn’t proper dancing, not the dancing Bucky knew anyway – no rehearsed dancing steps, more like a spontaneous swaying to the music and some of the moves were definitely ridiculous but Sam made them look, well, smooth.

“See, that’s dance music, too,” Sam said and came to stand in front of Bucky.

Bucky had no idea why it was even called dancing but he wasn’t going to say that because he did not want to offend Sam again.

But of course Sam had to nag him. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“I can see the cyborg gears turning. What’s wrong with dancing?”

“Nothing. Just not what I’m used to.”

“You can choose the next song. For now – get those hips moving.” He nudged Bucky, and how could Bucky say no? After Sam had spent all that time educating him and only mildly making fun of him for his ignorance, he owed it to him.

“This is ridiculous, I feel ridiculous,” Bucky complained when he tried to copy some of Sam’s moves.

“You’re doing great,” Sam said but he was grinning, clearly enjoying how Bucky was making a fool of himself. “Maybe tone down the staring a bit.”

Well, if it made Sam happy… Bucky decided to give it his all and moved wildly to the rhythm, not caring if it could be called “dancing” or not. Nonetheless, he was a little relieved when the song was over.

“Your turn.” Sam indicated the computer.

Bucky had no idea which song to pick. He tentatively typed “Billie Holiday” into the search bar.

“Seriously?” Sam came up behind him. “You know Billie Holiday and say you don’t understand how music can capture the African-American experience?”

It was like a punch in the face. A well-deserved punch probably. “I mostly saw her as the singer of love songs, for slow dancing,” he admitted. “Never really…thought much about it.”

“So what, you’re going to slow dance with me, Barnes?” It wasn’t the usual good-natured banter but sounded more like an accusation.

“Look, Sam, I…” Bucky rubbed his temples. “Let’s head downstairs to that party to…” hopefully not dance. Whatever. Get out of this situation where, he feared, he was breaking rule #2 again.

“No, let’s do this.” Sam clicked on the first link and a swing tune started to play, Me, Myself and I. “Let’s slow dance if that’s what you do.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

It was certainly the most aggressive ask for a dance he had ever received. And he had never been this stiff during a dance before. He used to be a good dancer back in the days but now he felt clumsy when he placed his hand on Sam’s back while trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

They had not even made eight uncoordinated steps when Sam started to speak. “Would it hurt you to use that brain of yours once in a while? It’s supposed to be working properly again, isn’t it? That’s what I heard at least.”

Doctor Raynor’s words came back to him, that he was free. To do what? Certainly to do better than hurt the man who had always had his back without Bucky ever having done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unconsciously tightening his grip on Sam’s back.

“What for?”

Everything. “For being…kind of… thoughtless, I guess.”

Being so close, he could actually feel Sam exhale. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“For being a huge dick,” Bucky offered.

“Better,” Sam grumbled. “Now, was that so hard?”

Bucky took a step back to gauge Sam’s reaction. He was relieved to find no traces of hurt or betrayal in Sam’s eyes, just the usual exasperation he put on when looking at Bucky. “Yes. Physically painful,” he tentatively tested the water. It was like a dance, back and forth, seeing how far you could get.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I hate you. And please stop staring.”

Bucky shrugged and pulled Sam close again, in fact, so close that he did not have to look into Sam’s eyes anymore but was now staring at his left shoulder. Sam was visibly relaxing in Bucky’s arms and wasn’t that a miracle, that he was still in Bucky’s arms, still allowed Bucky to hold him?

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbled into Sam’s shoulder.

“What for?”

Everything. Bucky tightened his hold on Sam (and silently thanked the autoplay function that started the next song because he was in no way ready to let go of Sam yet). “I’m a mess and you don’t deserve all that shit I throw at you.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” Sam squeezed his shoulder, like a reassurance that he would continue to put up with all of Bucky’s bullshit. Too damn kind for this world. Good thing he had Bucky on his side who was going to beat up everyone who so much as tried to exploit Sam’s kindness. (Yes, he knew he was being hypocritical and should technically start with beating up himself.)

“Sharon was wrong,” Bucky said. “I’m not obsessed with the whole stars and stripes stuff. I didn’t follow Steve because he had that shield. And I’m – well, you might’ve noticed I’m here and not following that – that asshole. Sam, I think you should take the shield but, with or without the shield, I’ll follow you. Just so you know.”

Sam was silent for quite some time, they were just swaying gently to the music, until Bucky heard close to his ear, “That a threat, Buck?” He could almost sense the smile against his cheek.

“Just a fact. And I hate you too, by the way.”

#non good omens #sambucky #my writing #fanfic

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awed-frog · 4 years ago

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Do you have any advice for someone who’s really struggling to study? I’m really stressed and demotivated, and I can’t seem to sit down and just study. In my country we only have virtual classes so maybe It has something to do with that, it’s really sad that it’s my first college year and I haven’t attended one single face to face class. Anyway, If you have any kind words I would really appreciate it. Love your blog btw <3

Hey! Thank you for this! And I’m very sorry you feel that way...just know you’re not alone, I think we’re all a bit ‘what’s the point’ rn, and for students (and teachers) this period must suck especially hard. I don’t know exactly what can work for you, but here are a few things that come to mind. I hope you can find something useful!

Have habits and routines. Our days are all over the place, which is not good for motivation or mental health. Instead of procrastinating, feeling guilty, working in a hurry and then feeling even worse, decide on a schedule that works for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself - give it as much time as you need to do the work well, and devote the rest of your day to stuff that makes you feel accomplished and serene (maybe learn or practice a non-screen skill, such as cooking or painting?).

And: at risk of sounding like a yoga mom, don’t forget about your body. Very often stuff like bad mood or exhaustion has physical, not mental, causes. Try to make time for sport - dancing in your underwear, running outside, walking the dog, online pilates, a 7-minute app - and, if you can, a few minutes of meditation, singing or breathing exercises every day. I’d recommend the ‘cardiac coherence’ stuff - lasts about 3 minutes, makes you feel really great. And: remember to stretch, smile and drink water throughout the day. If possible, go outside or have plants and flowers around you.

When it comes to habit, try to understand what kind of person you are and react accordingly. Some people work best when they change cold turkey (new day, new me), while for others it’s better to adjust things more slowly (for instance by moving the alarm clock forward five minutes every week or two). If you’re the second type, a method like Pomodoro could work well to organize your work schedule.

Have pretty things. Try switching to ink or coloured pens, have nice stationery, organize your Word documents so they’re neat and tidy, use candles, plants, ‘good mood’ incense - whatever makes you feel your work has meaning and worth.

Try background music. Some people work better with noise, and you can find all kind of noises online, from stations to coffee shops to purring cats. Others like classical music. For me, what works is video game music, which is designed to keep you alert and focused while being unobtrusive.

Try to keep your workspace as similar as possible to a ‘real’ workspace. No stack of dirty mugs and plates, no abandoned pajama bottoms. If you can manage it, start your day as if you were actually going outside - dress for actual human company, put on make-up if you like to - and remember to prepare your desk the night before: textbooks, charged laptop, notebooks, water bottle, possibly a diary or a motivational quote or anything you find useful.

If it helps, study with friends or classmates. Have video meetings, chats or shared Google docs and work together. Rant with people who’re going through the same thing, but also find a way to help one another. If you live with flatmates or family members, maybe you can find a moment to work together on your separate things? Dad does admin, mom prepares a work presentation, you do your homework and that’s ‘work time’ for everyone?

Divide your tasks. Make clear lists of what you have to do - as detailed as possible (not: shakespeare essay, but: 1. read book, 2. write essay, 2b. introduction and so on) and pay attention to when the stuff is due, either writing it down in agendas or post-its or creating alerts on your phone. Some people also like the square of doom (you know, that ‘important + urgent’, ‘important + non urgent’ thingy).

Keep track of what you’re doing if you find it helps you. There are good apps for this, or you can use a nice journal or an Excel sheet. Track whatever you want - minutes of study, words learned, tasks accomplished...a favourite of mine is ‘a time logger’, which can track your entire day. When I was in uni, it made me realize I was working a lot more than I thought, and reaching daily goals kept me motivated.

Rethink your internet consumption, especially news, TV shows and social media. Try having periods where you go off-screen whenever you need a break. Stuff like, ‘no TV before 6 pm’ or ‘no tumblr on weekdays’ can automatically make you a lot less stressed and a lot more productive.

You can also decide to modify the way you engage with these things. For instance, if your studies involve a language, you could watch only TV shows in [language], or turn on [language] subtitles, or you could switch to Buzzfeed [country]. If you like IG, pinterest or tumblr, try having a separate ‘weekday’ account which is about healthy escapism and/or accountability: landscapes and poetry instead of fandom content, or a personal blog about your day - use the right tags and connect with others who’re going through the same thing.

Imagine you’re teaching someone. I’m guessing you’re passionate about your subject, so turn your study sessions into imaginary conversations. Teaching a lesson (or making a speech) is often the best way to see what you understand, what you need to work on, and what you’re interested in learning more about.

Websites like b-ok can help you find books about your subject (or not) - possibly stuff you’re not actually compelled to read, but which sounds interesting nonetheless. Broaden your horizon, discover different stuff, and sooner or later you’ll find yourself making connections between the exciting stuff you’re basically reading for fun and the actual subject you’re studying.

And: remember why you’re studying this. What are you passionate about? Why did you fall in love with your subject? Why are you studying it? Sometimes we have to endure a few boring classes to get to the good part, and that’s okay.

And finally: visualize the future. The world will get better, and at some point you’ll be glad you’ve spent a few (or many) hard and boring hours getting your degree. What are you going to do after this? Make a ‘future’ board, write a fake Wikipedia article about yourself, give a Nobel or graduation speech, give a pep talk to your (imaginary) future children about the hardships you faced on Zoom and how you overcame them to become the mom they know and love. Whatever works, no matter how ridiculous or narcissistic or far-fetched is a good thing!

I hope this helps! Remember to remain calm and positive, and talk to yourself as if you were talking to a child or a best friend. Less You suck and the world is going to end and more Yes, you didn’t do great today, but we can always do better tomorrow, it’s okay to have an off day! Uni is hard enough under any circumstances, and right now...do your best and resist the bait of dark thoughts: we will get through this, and everything will be alright. It’s how it works.

#ask #studying #students problems #life tips #life advice #motivation #anxiety #mental help #singing about the dark times #you can do this <3

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 4 years ago

Text

Puzzle || Ink Prints JohnKun Mini Series

Fandom(s): NCT (127 & WayV)

AU: Soulmates AU

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Relationship: Johnny x Kun

Language: English

Status: 5/5

Chapter WC: 2,684 words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Bruises (someone falls of a bike).

Chapter Warnings: None apply

Summary:

Kun doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life. He moved to South Korea on impulse to study his major, but he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing there. He is starting to regret his decision when his soulmate walks into his life in the most unexpected of ways. If only it were that easy...

AO3

Ink Prints Masterlist || Next Chapter >>

Tagged: @queen-of-himbos

Hello kids~

My name is Johnny and I’ll be your peer mentor for the next two weeks! In this e-mail you’ll find all of the important schedules that you’ll have as well as a map of the campus. For now, the most important document is the one with the information on how to get the key to your temporary room, it’s the first thing you gotta do when you get here!

On the first day we’ll have two meetings. The first one will be just a general introduction about the University, the campus and all that important business. Then I’ll take you to a tour of the campus. The second meeting we’ll be about the finalization of your transfer process, so it’s very important you assist to that one!

If you have time afterwards and want to, I’d love to take you all out for dinner! Send me a confirmation response please!

Johnny

Hello Johnny-ssi,

I’m Qian Kun, one of your mentees. This would be my confirmation response. Thanks a lot for the useful information. It’d be a pleasure to have dinner with all of the group.

Kun

Kun pushed his suitcase with one hand as he held the map of the campus with the other. He was trying to figure out where the dormitories were so he could get his key and pass out for the night. His flight had been postponed and he had ended up arriving later than planned, which ruined his plans of seeing a little bit of Korea for the day. Now, the only thing he craved was rest.

When he finally figured out how to read the map, he sighed in relief and made his way there. His legs ached. At first because of the somewhat cramped space in the Economy Class of the flight he had taken, but now because he had been walking around like a headless chicken trying to decipher the campus’ map. That tour was certainly going to come in handy.

He folded the map and shoved it in his pocket as he got to the building. The lady behind the desk was quite kind and understanding as she guided him through the registration process, and soon enough he was holding the miraculous key in his free hand. His room was on the second floor, which was ideal because he didn’t want to climb too many stairs while carrying the suitcase.

The room was a decent size and it had two beds on opposite sides. He knew he would need to share rooms once the classes started, but for now, he was grateful to have it for himself. Kun chose the bed further away from the door and sat on it, laying down the suitcase to begin pulling stuff out. He was tired, but his future self would be grateful to him if he didn’t have to struggle looking for clothes the next day.

Once he had put everything away, Kun flopped on the bed and took out his cellphone. He had bought a plan just so he could use it in Korea during his stay, but he would probably have to change numbers until he finished his studies. He had a couple of messages from his fathers and some friends, but decided to answer them later. He was still a little bit surprised he was actually going through with his decision to study in Korea.

He didn’t have an actual reason to do it. He had made the decision unprompted and just gone through with it, and now he was only a couple months away from starting his universitary studies in Korea. His fathers had been very supportive of him, like they had always been, but it still surprised him a little bit that they had just let him go to a whole other country. Still, Kun was sort of glad with his decision, if only because it made him excited.

He raised his arm and looked at the horse pacing on his skin. It was really big, even for a soulmate tattoo, and from what Kun had researched, he knew it was a Clydesdale. Whenever it was on his hand, it covered more than half of the back, and it made him feel somewhat small. It was funny though, because his fathers usually told him his soulmate must be someone really tall, even though the tattoos weren’t actually tied to the physical aspect of the person.

Kun sometimes wondered what the animal that represented him was. But more than that, he wondered if he would ever find his soulmate at all. He knew it was difficult to find your soulmates and that a lot of people were happy even when they never got to meet them. Still, he was allowed to hope. Maybe that was the reason he had left China in the first place. He sighed and turned around, falling asleep shortly after.

The next morning, he woke up with enough time to get ready and have breakfast. The problem was that he didn’t have food nor did he know where the nearest convenience store or cafeteria was. Fortunately, he had packed protein bars for such occasions. He opened one and shoved two more in his pockets before picking up his backpack and heading out, map in one hand and protein bar in the other.

His backpack had nothing but a notebook, a couple of pens, and his cellphone’s charger. Honestly, he didn’t even think he would need to take that many notes to begin with, and felt silly for bringing such a big backpack with him. It was a little too late to be second-guessing his outfit, so he just followed the map to the best of his abilities to the auditorium where they would be introduced to the university.

Kun finished his protein bar and shoved the plastic wrapper in his backpack before entering the auditorium. There were already people there. A kind senior student gave him a folder containing notes with what they were seeing that day, before directing him towards the seats. Kun walked down the aisle and sat down, keeping a certain distance from the other foreigner students waiting for the meeting to start. He still didn’t feel quite ready to make friends.

Little by little, the auditorium filled until the clock marked the time for the meeting. Kun took out his pens and made his own notes over the papers he had been given. The peer mentors told them a little bit of history about the university and explained to them how each department was divided. Kun paid close attention to everything, while simultaneously wondering which of those students was ‘Johnny’.

He had liked the first impression he had formed of his peer mentor through the email. He seemed kind and helpful. As far as Kun knew, most peer mentors were also foreigner students that had been new to the university at some point, just like them. Johnny was, according to his limited knowledge, an English name, so he wondered if his peer mentor came from England or maybe America.

“Now, let’s go through a quick overview of the campus’ map, and then your peer mentors can take you on a tour!” The student at the front said, as the presentation changed to a slide with a map of the university.

Kun compared it to his own map which he had been using so far, but it wasn’t of much help, as he had truly no idea how to even locate himself in the map. The tour would surely be helpful. The meeting came to an end shortly after, and the mentors pulled out papers with their names printed on them. Finding Johnny was easy enough.

His mentor was a tall man. His hair was long and bleached, half of it held back in a little bun. He was holding his sign high and moving it around with a silly smile on his face. Kun couldn’t help but smile, although he tried to suppress it as he walked towards him. From close up, Johnny was even taller, but his smile made him approachable.

“I think this is all of you,” Johnny said with a smile, as he folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. “My name’s John Seo, but please don’t call me John, it makes me feel old. You can also call me Youngho, as that is my Korean name. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable!”

As it turned out, three out of his four new colleagues were also Chinese, which immediately made him feel more comfortable. Junhui and Yanan were both taller than him, but the first one looked like he was up for mischief and the second one had a very nice smile. Handong looked like you didn’t want to mess with her, but she turned out to be quite funny and nice. Alexandra (or Alex, as she had asked them to call her) was very friendly and immediately bonded with Johnny over coming from America.

Johnny turned out to be an excellent guide. He let them know where the most important markers were and how to use them as guides to get to their destinations. The campus was really big, and they ended up only looking at the main buildings. By the end of the three hour tour, Kun was exhausted and famished. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one, so Johnny took them to his favorite cafeteria on campus.

“Personally this is my favorite place to eat on campus,” he explained as they all picked something from the menu. “But you can always eat outside if you find time to come and go, there’s plenty of stuff around here.”

“Johnny-ssi-” Kun began, but he was quickly stopped.

“Hyung, please,” Johnny said with a smile. “What is it?”

“Johnny-hyung…” The word felt weird on his tongue since he didn’t actually know Johnny that well, but the oldest seemed content with his effort, so he was willing to let it slide. “Is it true that there’s going to be a treasure hunt?”

“A treasure hunt?” Junhui immediately piped in, eyes open wide.

“Ohh yeah.” Johnny clicked his tongue. “Spoiler alert, it’s quite hard.”

They followed him to a table. Kun sat in front of him, so it would be easier to ask him questions and listen to him without having to turn around. Johnny prompted them to eat their lunch while he explained a little bit more about the treasure hunt. The first bite tasted like glory to Kun, although he wasn’t certain if it was because of his hunger or because the food there was as good as Johnny had bragged it was.

“There’s prizes, mostly things that will be useful for your stay here. It can range all the way from supplies to food coupons which, honestly, can be life savers.” Johnny took turns to talk and eat, trying not to leave details out. “But it is pretty hard, since the campus is so big.”

“We should team up!” Alex suggested, and the rest nodded.

“Is it obligatory?” Handong asked, leaning closer.

“Oh no-” Johnny shook his head- “none of the activities are obligatory, they’re simple recommendations.”

“Will you participate in the treasure hunt?” Kun asked.

“Well, technically I can’t,” he said, after swallowing a bite of his meal, “but I will help prepare it.” Johnny winked knowingly, and Kun found himself needing to look away.

Johnny was very friendly, and very confident. Which he had a right to be, because he was also very attractive, but that only made Kun feel more flustered and awkward. It wasn’t that Kun didn’t have self-confidence, because he did… just not as much as Johnny. He just hoped he would be able to overcome it soon, because Johnny was going to be his mentor for two whole weeks.

“Right.” Johnny pulled his cellphone out of the bag and passed it to Yanan on his side. “Please put your Kakao account, it’ll be easier to talk through there than through emails.” Yanan sent himself a friend request and then passed it to Alexa. “Also, I would like to invite you all for dinner tonight, it’s on me. I’ll text you the details.”

Once they were done eating, the five of them returned to the meeting room while Johnny stayed behind to do some other stuff. This time, Kun did sit next to his new friends, finding it a bit more comfortable. Soon enough they were all added to a chatroom by Johnny, and Kun used the opportunity to add them all as friends.

This meeting was a lot more tedious, as it was packed with important information. Kun could barely take notes fast enough in Korean, so they ended up a mix of Korean and Chinese that probably only he could understand. It didn’t matter as long as he was able to use them for their intended purpose.

After the meeting, they went their separate ways, as they all wanted to use their free time differently. Kun simply went back to his dorm, thinking that he should ask Johnny for some places to visit over dinner. He kind of knew where he wanted to go, but getting the opinion of someone with more experience than him seemed like a better idea. Just as he was thinking of that, Johnny sent a message to their chatroom.

Johnny-hyung: meet me outside the dorms at 8-ish Johnny-hyung: dinner’s on me!

Kun programmed an alarm and then flopped on his bed to take a nap. He was exhausted and it took him no time to fall asleep. He barely heard the alarm when it sounded, and woke up with a start. He managed to fix his hair and rinse his mouth before storming off to the dorm’s reception. Despite waking up right on time, he was still the first one to make it besides Johnny, who smiled brightly upon his arrival.

“For a moment I thought you’d stand me up!” He said as a form of greeting. Kun bowed slightly, apologetically. “Don’t worry about it, the others said they’re on their way here. It seems like they had a busy afternoon.”

It took about ten minutes for everyone to get there, then Johnny called cabs for them and off they went. He took them to a grill house, and as soon as the smell of grilling meat reached them, they all felt hungry. A waiter took them to the table Johnny had reserved, and they all sat promptly, eager to eat.

When the meat arrived and Johnny began grilling it, Kun immediately offered to help. At least it was something he could do, and it made him feel better to have some sort of control over the situation. Everything felt so foreigner to him, which was kind of ironic when he was in a group full of other foreigners.

“Ohh!” Johnny exclaimed in admiration. “It seems like our Kun is good at grilling meat!”

Alex let out a cheer as Kun placed a handful of juicy pieces of meat on her place. Junhui tried to steal from her, but she protected her plate fiercely. Kun chuckled and served Junhui next, to avoid a war from starting at their table.

“It’s nothing, I just like cooking.” Kun smiled, feeling warm at the compliment.

“Really now.” Johnny smiled, taking care of his own side of the grill. Kun glanced at him briefly, but looked away once he discovered Johnny was looking at him.

Once everyone had meat on their plates, Johnny grabbed his glass and raised it to the center. The others followed him, glancing curiously at him.

“I want to propose a cheer for all of you,” he explained. “May your first year at the university be successful!”

“Cheers!” They all exclaimed in unison, clinking their glasses and then drinking for them.

Kun glanced at Johnny briefly, and the oldest smiled at him, reassuringly. He felt his shoulders relax as he took another sip of his drink before going back to grilling meat. Maybe he would be able to find himself in this unfamiliar place after all.

#kwritersworldnet #kconnet #kdiarynet #nct #nct 127 #way v #nct fanfic #nct fic #nct fanfiction #soulmates au #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #nct johnny #nct kun #way v kun #ink prints #bluenicorn writes

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years ago

Text

Save A Spot For Me

Fandom: Marvel (College AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: Bucky Barnes x reader where he always saves a spot for her in their one uni class and everyone noticed and ships them

You: sooooo...here’s the thing..

Bucky: late again.

You: yup. save a seat for me?

Bucky: of course

You: 😁 thanks!

Bucky shakes his head with a fond look on his face. He pulls open the door to his next class, one that you share with him. When he entered the lecture hall, there were already a few students in their preferred seats.

Bucky made his way to one of the middle rows, choosing a seat for him and then proceeding to place his things in the seat beside him, a place for you. As he dug out his supplies for the class, his buddy, Sam, waltzed into the room, heading straight for the seat next to Bucky, the one he was saving for you.

As soon as Sam grabbed for Bucky’s bag, he was stopped, “Hey, hey! Woah! That’s Y/N’s seat!”

Sam snorted, “And where’s Y/N right now?”

Bucky shrugged, “Said she was gonna be late.”

Sam shook his head, “Snooze, you lose!” he proceeds to move Bucky’s bag to the floor and sits in the seat that was preserved for you.

The brunette frowned, “You couldn’t have just sat in the other chair beside me?” with a shake of his head, Bucky moved his things to the other chair next to him. He then pulled out his notes and began to read the content from last lecture.

Soon enough, more and more students began to file into the hall. Whenever one would come up to Bucky, they’d ask, “Y/N’s seat?” to which he’d give them a sorry look accompanied with a nod. However, many didn’t seem too upset. Oddly enough, people would smirk at him or give him a knowing look.

“Why are people looking at me weird whenever I say that I’m saving a seat for Y/N?”

Sam chuckled, “Probably because we can all see how much you like her?”

Bucky scoffed, “What? No! I-I don’t like her! We’re just friends!”

“Mhmmmmm, keep tellin’ yourself that, man,” Sam gave a looking showing that he was unconvinced by Bucky’s words.

Bucky frowned. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Professor Coulson entered the room. His mouth shut immediately and he picked up his pen, ready to take notes.

____________

You absolutely hated living off campus. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. Living off campus meant you didn’t have to deal with the RAs, campus police, annoying floor mates, sharing bathrooms with 50+ people, etc. You had more privacy, a bathroom you had to shared with 3 people, and amazing roommates. The downside was not having the convenience of being closer to your classes. Instead, you had to take the bus to campus and the bus was never reliable. Like today. The bus driver decided to take a different route to the college than the usual and it’s going to make you late. Again! This will be your fourth tardy to class and you’re really hoping Coulson doesn’t rip you a new one in front of everybody.

At least Bucky said he’ll save you a seat. He’s a nice person like that. A nice person with gorgeous blue eyes, a beautiful smile, soft chocolate brown hair-UGH! Get it together, Y/N! You can’t crush on your friend like that. Was he a friend? You don’t really hang out outside of class. And you two usually only text about school. Maybe he’s not a friend then. But you’d like to be his friend...maybe more.

The bus finally arrives to campus and you mutter, “Finally!” under your breath as you practically hop off the vehicle and run towards the lecture hall. You’re twenty minutes late.

You head towards the back door of the lecture hall, slipping in as quietly as you can. You look down to see Bucky and you tip toe over to his row, whispering apologies to the students you pass. Bucky spots you and shoots a smile, removing his bag from your spot. You’re grateful that Coulson’s back is to you as he’s drawing a graph onto the board.

Just as you’re about to sit down, Coulson calls out your name, “Y/N, you know the rules.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to you, staring expectedly. You sigh, straightening your form as you stand, “I’m Y/N L/N and I’m late because my bus driver thought it was a good idea to take a different route to campus, which made me twenty-five minutes late to class.”

Coulson nodded when you sat down, “Alright. Now as I was saying-”

You drown out Coulson’s voice as you hurriedly open your notebook to write down all of the notes he’d put on the board. When he begins to erase them, you open your mouth to tell him to wait, but Bucky’s hand lands on your arm. He scribbles down something at the corner of his page. You lean in and read it:

Don’t worry. You can copy my notes later. ;)

Your shoulders deflate with relief and you mouth, “Thank you,” to him.

He shrugs and mouths back, “You’re welcome,” then goes back to writing out his notes.

After class, Coulson calls you up to his desk and you feel yourself tense as you approach, “Yes, sir?”

“So, I hate to do this, because you’re actually a really great student and you’re doing so well in my class, but I do have to give you a warning that if you’re late again, that’s an automatic absence.”

You nod understandingly, “I know, sir. I don’t mean to be late, you know. It’s just the bus-”

“I understand, but why doesn’t your boyfriend give you a ride?”

You look at him confusedly, “Boyfriend?”

“Barnes,” he says with a smirk, “The guy who always saves you a seat and secretly gives you heart eyes whenever you speak up in class?”

You honestly didn’t know what to say to that, “O-Oh, uh, Bucky and I-”

“Babe, you ready to go?” you look to the door and see Bucky’s head popping in.

“Uh, yeah?” you say unsurely.

He nods, “Let’s go then! Sam and Steve are waiting for us so we can head to lunch!”

“O-Okay!” you say and shoot a nervous smile to Coulson, who’s practically beaming at you. You wave at your professor and exit the lecture hall.

You then frown at Bucky, “Why’d you do that? Now he thinks we’re dating!”

He chuckles, “You make it sound like a bad thing.” you follow him as he continues to walk towards the cafe, “Besides, you don’t wanna embarrass the guy, do ya?”

You snort, “Why not? He embarrasses me all the time!”

“Which is you fault, by the way,” Bucky says with a pointed look.

You feign offense and point a finger at him, “It’s not my fault and you know it, Barnes!”

_______________________

The day after that, you get to campus early, as you told Bucky via texting him a selfie of you on campus. He proceeds to send you a selfie back showing you he’s already at the hall with a seat saved for you.

He waits patiently as you make your way over, doodling in his sketchbook yet another picture of you. So deep into his doodling, he doesn’t notice one of his classmates settling in the seat next to him, until another classmate from behind speaks up.

“Hey, blondie! You better take a different spot! Barnes doesn’t like anyone else sitting next to him other than his tardy girlfriend!”

Bucky grunts in dismay when he realizes Brock Rumlow, the campus asshole, is speaking. He looks over his shoulder with a frown, “Shut up, Rumlow, before you dumb down everyone’s IQ!” he then turns to his classmate with a sorry expression, “Sorry about him...Sharon, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, and sorry. I didn’t know this was Y/N’s seat. I usually sit up front, but my neck is starting to hurt since he’s been using the overhead lately. I’ll move down a seat.”

“I really am sorry.”

She shakes his head, “Don’t be. I think it’s cute that you do that for Y/N. You really like her, huh?”

Bucky feels his face start to heat up, “Well, uh, yeah.”

“You guys would make such a cute couple. You should ask her out! In fact, bring her to movie night that my sorority is holding for the school! It’s a thriller movie so if she gets scared, you can hold her and stuff.”

He nervously chuckles, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you mean about the movie and not asking her out. Because you should definitely do it,” she sends him a wink and then moves down a seat.

A few minutes later, you burst into the room, earning a few playful hollers and applause from some students. You take a bow and then continue to climb the steps towards your seat. You carefully place a coffee cup onto Bucky’s desk, “Here.”

He takes it with a scrunch of his nose, “What’s this for?”

You settle in your seat and gave a shrug, “I mean, you save me a spot for every class. You don’t have to, but you do. So thanks for saving me the effort of looking like a dumbass for searching the room for an empty spot.”

“You’re welcome, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Still. I wanna thank you.”

“While I appreciate the coffee, maybe you can thank me another way?” he then slaps himself on the forehead, “Wait! I just realized how that sounds and that’s not what I meant!”

You throw your head back with a cackle, “I didn’t think of it that way at first, but now that you pointed it out, yeah, it sounds wrong.”

Bucky groans, “Sorry. Sorry. Anyway, what I meant was that...maybe you wanna...go on a date sometime?”

“S-Sure!” you say surprisingly.

“Great!” Bucky says with much relief, “I hear there’s a movie night comin’ up. Wanna go?”

“I heard it’s a scary movie so I’ll definitely be covering my eyes for most of the film, but sure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and protect you if need be,” he says with a smirk.

“HALLELUJAH! PRAISE THE LORD!” a booming voice echoes throughout the lecture hall. All eyes land on Sam, who’s standing on the other side of Bucky. He cups his hands around his mouth and hollers, “LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND THOSE IN-BETWEEN, JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES HAS FINALLY ASKED Y/N L/N OUT!” students from all over the room burst into applause and cheers which makes you and Bucky want the ground to open up and eat you both.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel au #au #college au

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spoondrifts · 4 years ago

Text

the evergreen needles inside your bones

ao3 link

Whumptober 2020 Prompt, Day 8: Isolation.

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood’s Mother, Jonathan Sims, Daisy Tonner (Mentioned), Elias Bouchard (Mentioned)

CWs: self harm, emotional/psychological abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, depression, past child abuse, suicidal thoughts

He's walking. He isn't sure where he is or how he got here, only that it's rather nice. The air is cool and the breeze is gentle, the sand beneath his feet shifts as he steps. The coastline stretches endlessly on into the fog, which collects in thin, wispy tendrils around his ankles, condensing in little droplets in his glasses. He wipes them off every few minutes. Distantly, seagulls call back and forth, shrill and grating, but the fog muffles it well enough.

There might be a lighthouse, off a ways, but he can't focus on it properly. Every time he tries, it seems to blur and shudder, refusing to be locked down. He understands, sort of. To be seen, to have eyes cut down to your core and pin you in place, defining you... it sounds awful.

To his left, the ocean rushes quietly, white waves lapping against the shore. He can taste salt.

A rush of cloying static fills his head, and then Peter is there. He's wearing his ridiculous sailor's coat, the dumb hat brim on his head hiding his empty eyes.

"Hi, Martin," Peter says, voice warm. He is anything but. "What are you doing in here?"

"Here?" Martin says, a bit confused. His voice sounds distant. He's not sure what Peter means.

"In the Lonely. You weren't in your office and I wanted to go over some emails from tech support I got this morning. Apparently, the archive is having trouble with their computers again, they keep breaking, and if they go over the Institute budget..."

Peter's voice fades out. Martin looks over at the sea; the fog rises to his knees, chilling him to the bone. He's been rather tired of Peter, lately. Despite being typically absent, the man has an exhausting presence, and when given the opportunity he can and will talk for hours. Martin is an expert at tuning him out by now.

"Martin," Peter says sharply, snapping his fingers in front of Martin's eyes and regrettably drawing his attention. "Are you listening to me?"

Martin blinks slowly. Lukas' form is indistinct, growing more hazy by the moment.

"Blackwood," Peter says. He sounds startled as he lurches forward, face twisted in confusion, but Martin steps back and the fog swells up, encompassing, swallowing Peter up. And then Martin is alone.

He hadn't known he could do that.

Far away, the lighthouse beam sweeps through the gloom.

His notebook sits open on his desk, blank white pages staring accusingly at him. Several pages have been ripped out, crumpled, and tossed away, covered in jagged scratches of pen. He rolls the pen over in his fingers, eyeing the notebook.

Picking it up, he braces it on his knee, uncaps the pen, and lifts it. Stares. He presses the tip to the page. Stops, removes it.

it's like drowning

he writes, then scowls and crosses it out. Too Buried-esque.

like clogging, like stifling, like I could reach down my throat and rip my emotions out by their throats. maybe then I could strangle and kill them for good. maybe then I could feel something.

He thinks he can hear someone like his mum scoffing at him, telling him to write something real. Something that isn't so silly, so theatrical.

He looks at the lines for a long while. Grits his teeth. Crosses them out.

Martin watches Jon hurry into the Institute, soaked all the way through and shivering violently. Rain is pouring in unrelenting sheets beyond the doors, a steady drizzle of cold and grey and wet.

Maybe once, Martin would have fetched Jon a cup of tea, offered to hang up his coat to dry for him. Fussed over him all the way into his office, where once, Jon would have snapped out a terse, yes, thank you, Martin, before unsubtly ordering him back to work. Maybe once, Martin would have stood in the break room over a cup of tea for himself, warming his hands, chest aching so deep he feared it might shatter him into a million pieces.

But he can't do that anymore. So he watches Jon shake himself, grumbling about the foul weather, and storm down the hall to the archives without so much as giving Martin a glance.

It's better, this way.

Make yourself useful, Martin, his mum's voice echoes in his head. He's making tea. The Institute is dark and everyone has gone home for the night. Everyone except for Jon, of course, and Daisy, who has been sleeping in the archives ever since Jon dragged her out of the coffin by her fingernails.

Martin doesn't get it. He doesn't get a lot of things about Jonathan Sims, but he doesn't understand the whole Daisy situation most of all.

He remembers the way Jon had staggered into the archives with his throat slit and bleeding, choking out with wry humor that Daisy, the cop, almost killed him, as Martin pressed a handful of paper towels to the wound. He remembers the a rush of worry and anxiety and fury.

And now they're—

They're friends? Maybe more?

No, that's ridiculous. Don't be so melodramatic, Martin. Selfish, jealous boy.

His hands shake as he pours his tea. Stirs in the sugar. Burns his tongue on the first sip. A piece of prose has been rattling around in his head all day, itching to be written down. He doesn't think he has the strength to open his notebook again.

there's a pickaxe behind my eyes, chipping away at my face, causing such a thudding and pounding racket that I can scarcely gather my thoughts into neat little boxes, where they belong. tucked away. pocketed, pocketed, pocketed. I am pocket-sized; stuff me away and fold me into the dark, the background. hide me away. please don't look; I may fracture like stained glass.

Christ, Martin, his mum sneers.

He loses his pen.

It's an accident, and a harmless one, really. He's leaning over his desk—once Elias', once James', once Richard's, once once once all the way back to Jonah Magnus. Painted eyes bright and green and sharp with something, maybe it's amusement, maybe it's malice; who can tell, does it matter—and his fingers fumble, and he drops the pen.

Martin straightens, sighing, and gets up to look for it, assuming it had rolled under the desk. He sweeps his foot over the carpet, peers into the shadows, even paces the room a few times to make sure he's searching everywhere, but it's gone. Frustrated, he pushes the desk out of the way, causing a few papers to slide off and scatter across the ground. The pen still isn't there. He hisses lowly as the damn pen refuses to make an appearance. There's no way it just vanished. It can't have vanished. He very clearly dropped it right there, it should be somewhere on the floor, but the more he looks the more he becomes convinced that it's not.

He stops for a moment. Assesses the office.

It's a mess. The desk, haphazardly shoved to one side; cabinets flung open, none fully closed; himself, panting and flushed hot with irritation and in the epicenter of the disorder. His notebook is on the floor, face down.

There's no pen.

He can feel the anger rising, something burning and steely that squeezes his lungs and rings in his ears, and then—

Christ, it's only a pen, a voice snarls in the back of his mind.

It sounds like his mum.

She's dead and he's here. Sometimes Martin thinks he shouldn't be: here and alive and fine when everyone else is suffering so badly, but then he chastises himself—It doesn't matter. That's his mantra, these days. It doesn't matter how he feels about it. All that matters is that he does it, and he does it well, and no one else has to get hurt by monsters like Elias or Peter or the—the thing that stole Sasha, ever again.

He won't save the day, but maybe. Maybe he can save them. Even if it costs him his life.

Martin sucks in a breath. One. Two. Three. Four. He takes in another.

Faintly, he registers that his wrists are stinging from how hard he is pressing his nails to the skin. Not bleeding, not yet. He has the good sense to pull his hand away and inspect the damage. Four crescent gouges, likely to bruise, and bruise a dark, sickly purple, like rot. Like crawling, infestation, like Jane. He still has scars. He has not touched a peach in over a year.

He breathes deeply, sniffs, and then all at once he is crying. His eyes burn as tears well up and spill over, trickling down his cheeks in uneven rivulets, stopped by his scrabbling fingers that rub valiantly over his face in an attempt to quit, but somehow that only makes it worse and his chest stutters through a hitched sob.

Dropping forward, he gets on his knees and starts to pick up the papers he'd messed up, sniffling and choking down the involuntary sobs. His hands tremble badly as he grabs his notebook and presses it to his chest.

Useless arse, his mum growls. Can't even clean a bloody office because you're too busy getting all weepy over something you chose.

His teeth grind so harshly that his jaw aches.

"Shut up," he hisses, his voice horrifically watery and broken. His notebook slides back to the floor as his hands fly up to cover his ears, desperately trying to block out her cruel words. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, you're gone and you're not coming back and I'm still here when you're not so shut UP!"

He isn't sure how long he crouches there, hands shut tight over his ears, wracked with loud, gasping cries as his body shudders and shakes and falls apart.

It's only when he notices how quiet it is that he finally opens his eyes, lowering his hands.

He's on the beach. The fog curls, gentle, around his huddled form. The waves crash and collide with each other, sending great sprays of salt water into the misty air. His pants are covered in sand.

And the lighthouse looms before him, dizzyingly tall, it's outline distinct and crisp for the first time. Martin breathes in the scent of the sea and slowly rises to his feet. His head is fuzzy, but his chest doesn't hurt anymore, and he isn't sure why he was so upset in the first place. It was just a pen, after all. He sniffs, shaking his head, taking a few wobbly steps towards the lighthouse.

The door is open. Waiting. He can't see what's inside.

When he manages to reach the entrance, he pauses, glancing back. The empty expanse of beach and coastline is still there. It's rather beautiful.

Martin takes in a breath. Another.

He turns, and walks into the lighthouse.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma fic #whumptober 2020 #writing #fic #martin blackwood #peter lukas #jonathan sims #prompt fill

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gotmeringinghellsbells · 5 years ago

Note

Can I get a Ojiro boy tickled to pieces? Thanke u!❤️

A Qurik With Quirks

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Mashirao Ojiro

A/N: I don’t really have much to say on this actually XD. I thought it was a cute idea.

Description: While taking notes on Ojiro, Midoriya notices that not only does his classmate's quirk give him a tail.... but it gives him paw pads and toe beans too?! He must explore this new fascinating discovery!

Wide eyes met as a soft blush grew. The noise that had just escaped into the rather basic dorm room caught both it’s inhabitants off guard. Deku slowly leaned back in the desk chair he was using. He studied Ojiro as he slowly uncovered his mouth and brought his legs away from his chest. He looked at the other, unsure of what to say or do. All Deku had done was gently brush the eraser side of his pencil on Ojiro’s newly discovered paw pads.

It had been a boring weekend. Ojiro lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling as not even his phone had much appeal. The weather predicted for little to no chance of skateboarding and dealing with his classmates as a whole just seemed like too much for the moment. However, then his phone buzzed, he snuck a glance to make sure it wasn’t a parent.

Upon looking at the notification, he was pleasantly surprised to see it was a message from Midoriya. ‘Are you busy? Was looking through notes on classmates, realized I don’t have much for your quirk. Can I interview you?’ Ojiro thought the request over. It was a little odd to him and very embarrassing, but he agreed nevertheless.

Not long after a message of confirmation was sent, there was a knock at his door. “It’s open,” the tailed student called. Midoriya opened the door with a small smile before entering. Shutting the door, he stood beside the side of the other’s bed with enthusiasm. “Thanks again Ojiro!” The taller gave a small nod; a blush creeping on his face.

“Ah, it’s not really a big deal. So, what did you want to know.” He patted the bed and pointed to the chair at his desk; offering for Deku to sit. Deku obliged to the offer with a nod of gratitude before taking the desk chair to the side of the bed. He sat with a stiff postured back and a slightly puffed chest.

Taking out his pen and opening his notebook, he nodded once more to Ojiro who yawned softly. “Uh, anything I should say in particular,” the shyer asked. Midoriya shook his head. “Anything works.” It was still too vague. “How about you ask me something instead?” “Alright” Midoriya said in his typically happy voice.

First thing was first, the tail. Ojiro covered his face as he stood beside his bed, letting his classmate measure the length and width of his tail before the questions finally started. Questions such as: basic usage of his quirk, then special moves, then team moves like with Iida. Ojiro realized he really didn’t know all that much about his quirk in the way Deku was explaining it. He seemed rather just plain and basic. How you would think it worked was how it worked.

His quirk wasn’t flashy with tricks or new abilities. It was a muscular tail that Kaminari loved to play with. When that came up, Ojiro actually laughed. “Why do you need to know about that,” he giggled out. Deku shrugged. “I like to write fun facts. Also, who knows, your tail could aid in anxiety or stress relief.” Was that so. Mashirao shrugged before turning so that his back was to Deku. “Go ahead then.” Deku blushed before smiling excitedly. “Wait, really?” He nodded. “Ah, yeah. Just be gentle please?” “Of course!”

Gentle hands started to mimic Denki’s typically actions before feeling up and down the tail. Each muscle under the skin felt powerful, each hair so soft and fluffy, each toss from side to side seemed a little more weighted; it was nice. “Side note,” Deku mumbled as he let go of the tail with one hand. “Tail aids in stress relief and possibly anxiety relief.” Ojiro rolled his eyes. “Still don’t see how that’s necessary.” Midoriya merely gave a shrug. “It just was.”

Deku let go and Ojiro took that as a que to turn and face him once more. As he did, Deku gave him a curious look. “So…. is the tail the only animal-esc part about you?” He was leaning back in the desk chair, one leg swung over the other. He had his book open and supported by his left hand and forearm, right hand readying a pencil.

“Um…. not exactly?” Ojiro removed his fuzzy socks that were protecting his feet from the dorm’s cold wood floors. Green eyes widened; no way.

“You have pads?!” Deku leaned forward to get a better look. If it weren’t for the animal paw bottoms Ojiro was packing, this would have been so awkward for the tail hero. “M-Midoriya. You're a bit close?” Oh, whoops. Deku blushed a bit before backing up. “Sorry. They… they just look like a little kittiy’s toe beans and paw pads. It’s a little weird only the top part of your foot has them though.” Mashirao shrugged. Was it?

“I mean not in a bad way, obviously, but it’s just a little odd, you know? I would have thought,” he started to bring his pencil closer as he observed curiously, “that the heel would be padded too; not just the balls and toes.” He gently swiped the eraser of his pencil up the balls of the foot earning a startling reaction.

Both legs tucked into Ojiro protectively, a yelp of sorts leaving his mouth. While trying to pull his legs close, one of Mashirao’s hands struggled between where to be. Finally, one sided with his mouth as the other held his legs. Oh no.

“Ticklish?” Ojiro covered his now burning face. Of course Deku was going to write that down. “Honestly Midoriya, most of our school is ticklish. Why are you wiritin- nahahah!” Deku smiled as he advanced the other. He took an ankle before gently tickling the padded top of the underside of the foot. “Whahahait, sthahaahaop! M-Mido-hahahah!” Dark eyes were shielded by soft crinkling lids as eyebrows turned upwards. Hands came up to better cover the reddening face as Ojiro’s stomach filled with butterflies. His tail started to smack into the bed repeatedly between wags of joy.

Soft whines and awkwardly, cringey noises escaped the poor boy’s mouth as he shoved at his friend using his free foot. Deku merely smirked as he grabbed the ankle, truly testing to see how much of this aspect of Ojiro’s quirk could be used as a hero. As he went along though, he did notice that the padded parts of the foot were much more sensitive than other parts of the foot. Slowly, the green bean ceased to write a note in his journal. Maybe he could get his hands on Koda’s bunny later or one of Shinso or Aizawa’s cats to test their paw pads.

As he turned away from the soft boy, Ojiro collapsed. He continued to giggle softly, curling up fully into himself on his side. He curled his tail up to protect him, just in case Izuku threatened to start over again. “That…. That was mean,” he panted through his soft giggles. Deku glanced up before smiling. “But it did give me more insight on your quirk!”

Huh? Mashiaro quirked a brow. “How’s that?” Deku stood up to show him a few notes he took. “Your quirk not only gives you a tail, but pads to help with landing and stuff like that. As useful and cat-like as they are, they seem to be a rather large physical weakness.” “You write down weaknesses too?” Deku nodded. “Ah, yeah, but I don’t like flaunt them or show them around. It’s to kind of study how all heroes are, if that makes sense?”

It didn’t persay, but Ojiro found himself nodding nevertheless. “I guess. But…. please don’t start telling people about this.” Huh? Ojiro looked down, face pink from embarrassment. His tail twitched slightly, not sure what to do. “Why would I tell anyone about this? Like you said, most of our class is ticklish.” Deku put the journal down before walking over to his tailed friend. “Besides….. It’s just some friendly, fun, bonding stuff, right?”

Oh, yeah; it was, wasn’t it? Ojiro gave a small, shy smile and nod before jumping as a hand found i’s way to it’s stomach. “And now that I’m done taking notes…. Let’s see where else your ticklish.” Oh crap.

#bnha #mha #bnha ojiro #bnha midoriya #tickle #ticklish #tickling #tickle fight #fanfic #fanfiction

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imagineteamfreewill · 5 years ago

Photo

Pairing: Reader x Sam

Prompt: Popular guy falling for the nerdy girl

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

________________

Charlie was in the middle of telling you about what had happened with the weird guy who’d been trying to hit on her in her technology class when she suddenly stopped. Smiling to yourself, you glanced over at her before going back to trying to find your earbuds at the bottom of your backpack.

“What? You forget what happened?” you teased.

“Apparently,” someone who was definitely not Charlie replied. “I was really hoping to find out what happened.”

You jumped in surprise and looked up to find Sam Winchester standing on the other side of you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew I was here. I would’ve said something earlier if I’d known,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

What’s he doing here?

“No, it’s okay…” you said, glancing around. “Did you need something?”

Sam frowned a little, looking around when you did. “I wanted to talk about the project for APUSH?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded tightly. Closing your locker, you slung your bag over your shoulder and looked back at Charlie.

“Tell me later, okay? I’ve gotta go figure out this project,” you told her.

“You didn’t tell me you were partnered with Sam Winchester!” she hissed. “Why didn’t he pick someone else to work with? Isn’t his girlfriend in your class?”

Sighing, you shrugged and glanced back at Sam. “I didn’t think it was important. Now go, I’ll catch up with you after school.”

Charlie gave Sam a long look over your shoulder before leaving, and you held back another sigh before turning back around.

“So… You wanna work in the library?” he asked, shifting a little.

“You heard everything she said, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Sam winced. “For what it’s worth, Jo’s not my girlfriend. We just grew up together.”

“Didn’t you guys go to homecoming together?” you asked.

“No, that was Jessica. She was— We’re not together anymore.” Sam cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile. “Library?”

You nodded and let Sam lead the way. It seemed like everyone you passed said ‘hi’ to him. A few smiled at you as well, so you smiled back, unsure of what to do. You didn’t have a ton of friends at this school besides Charlie—you’d only been going here for a year.

After you and Sam had found a table, he pulled out his phone and held it out to you. “We should exchange numbers so that we can talk about it after school or figure out times to work on it.”

“So why aren’t you working with Jo?” you asked, taking the phone and handing him your own.

Sam paused, staring at you. “Do you not want to work with me or something, Y/N?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed. Rubbing a hand over your face, you looked back at him, his phone still in your hand. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re not partners with Jo if you’re such good friends. You and I have never even had a conversation before.”

Shrugging, Sam finished typing in his number and slid your phone back across the table. You did the same, slipping it into your back pocket.

“I don’t know. You seemed like a nice person and I don’t know you that well. This seemed like a good reason to get to talk to you?” he said.

You gawked a little at that but quickly tried to cover it up. Sam wanted to talk to you? You were nobody here, just some girl in AP classes and the honor society.

“So,” Sam said, pulling a notebook from his backpack, “you wanna pick a topic? I was thinking we could do it on The New Deal. I talked to a bunch of other people and no one said they were doing it.”

He looked up at you, notebook open and pen in hand. Quickly, you scrambled to get your own stuff out, your mind still trying to piece together the puzzle that was Sam Winchester.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, The New Deal.”

Sam frowned. “You okay? We could work another time if you want...”

“I’m fine, Sam. Let’s just work on this project, okay?”

______________

Charlie was in the middle of telling you about what had happened with the weird guy who was still trying to hit on her in her technology class when she suddenly stopped. Smiling to yourself, you glanced over at her before going back to trying to find your earbuds at the bottom of your backpack.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, not looking away from what you were doing.

A hand pushed the door of your locker out of the way and Sam appeared on your other side, grinning.

“Hey, cutie.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the fact that his compliments always made you feel giddy. “What did we say about the nicknames at school?” you asked.

“I’ll leave you two alone. See you after physics, Y/N!” Charlie called, already walking away.

After giving her a quick wave, you turned to look at Sam, who was already staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answered, still grinning. “Just think you're cute.”

You groaned and tried to hide your smile as you grabbed your water bottle, shooing him away from your locker door so you could close it. “You’re being shmoopy again, Sam.”

Sam laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little more into his side as the two of you walked to your class. Some of his friends waved as you passed and you waved back, smiling.

“Did you really just use the word shmoop?” Sam asked, tilting his head to smile at you.

“Shut up,” you laughed. You gave him a little shove and he smiled even wider. “Stop it!”

“Do you not like me complimenting you? I’ll stop if you really want me to. Scout’s honor.”

Blushing slightly, you shook your head. “You’ve never been a Boy Scout, Sam.”

“Well, Dean was. It counts.” Sam stopped walking and pulled you into an empty space in front of the debate team’s trophy case. “Seriously, though. Do you want me to stop?”

“Sam, no, it’s okay. I promise. I just… I’m not used to it, you know?” You looped your arms around Sam’s neck, letting him pull you into his arms. “I promise I’m okay.”

He smiled and leaned down to peck you on the lips. “Okay,” he said, his voice quiet despite the noise in the hallway. “Think we should get to class?”’

“As fun as this is… We’ve got a test today,” you told him, smiling softly when he slipped his hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “Sam, c’mon. We gotta go.”

He let out a little groan, then pulled away a second later. “Alright, alright. Time for class, but only because I know that we’ll get to spend less time studying for the next test if we do well on this one.”

“That’s not how this works,” you laughed. Stepping away, you took his hand and led him down the hall. “But maybe I’ll make an exception for you.”

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saundraswriting · 4 years ago

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S.C Books Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Eren, Mikasa, and Armin live together off-campus for college. They go to Trost University, where the rest of the 104th fill in. Levi and Hange run Survey Corps Books or S.C. Books as a team, with Petra Moblit and Oluo. Eren's life hasn't been pleasant but the discovery of his second favorite place has made it a little better. Levi is aware of his near constant presence at the shop, confused as to how a college student can afford his book and coffee habit. Through unwelcome meddling from their friends, the two fine themselves growing closer. Possibly too close for a traumatized college student and slightly neurotic bookstore owner to be.

NOTES: I have not watched all of AoT or read the manga. I probably won't ever either. I have seen/read enough to know what is happening. I am enjoying being tangently attached to this fandom but also my existence thrives in canon divergence/modern setting au's and that is where I stay. usually.

WARNINGS: Eren/Levi ship but aged up in a modern setting, some SH references(physical and mental) language, suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, more warnings to come as I write(very slowly)

read it here on Ao3 (Which I recommend for better tagging)

Masterlist // Ao3 // Anime Masterlist

The chime ringing through the back room at 5 in the morning was a surprise. Levi was the only one at his bookstore/café to meet the extremely early customer. Levi came out of the small kitchen in the back, drying his hands off with a towel.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I though today was Hange's morning to work. I apologize." The smooth voice cut Levi off before he could speak. Levi looked up and froze, not often did Levi work the counter of his own establishment. The store was rather large but was tucked into away a bit so his 4 employees handled it just fine. He was glad this was one of those days. The tall green eyed wonder staring at him was one of the few regulars he had. Levi didn't know his full name, or why some weeks he practically lived at the store but he did know the three different way he took his coffee and the one way he took his tea. Levi knew that he was attractive and clean and polite.

"It was. They went on a bender after reading a weird article and overslept. Their husband texted me to ask me to cover." Levi told the kid. The kid nodded like he understood and with as often as he was there, Levi didn't doubt that Hange had roped the kid into a discussion or two.

"Again, sorry. I'll get going then. I was coming in to say hi and see if the machines were running. But I am an hour early for when you open." The kid looked down rubbing his already messy hair. He looked ready to bolt.

"It's fine, kid. I have a machine running already. I am no spring chicken, I need coffee to get up this early anymore. I was getting ready for the rest when you came in." Levi told him. The kid looked up hopeful, eyes slightly bloodshot. "I can only do regular coffee right now, or I'd do your Monday special." Levi said. He looked apologetically at the student, sympathizing with him.

"You know my coffee order?" He looked surprised. He blinked. "I am fine with regular coffee. I'll need-"

"3 creams and 6 sugars. How you can call that swill coffee I will never know." Levi cut him off. He turned around and made the coffee, wanting to hurry so he could look at the kid some more. 'Stop, he is much too young for you.'He tried to shake off the invasive thoughts but the urge to peek at the kid who'd been sitting at his table for what felt like years was strong.

"Just cause I hate the bitterness doesn't make it swill. Sorry we all can't have as refined taste buds as you. I rather like enjoying my drink." The kid snarked while your back was turned. 'He's witty. And attractive.' Levi sighed, this kid was almost too much for 5 am.

"Here you go brat. Enjoy your drink." The kid swiped his card, already drinking heavily from the cup. "I'll let you know when I get the espresso machine up." Levi told him as he finished the transaction. The kid looked up at him, with a grin powerful enough to run the damn city.

"Thanks, Levi. Do you mind if I sit in my spot? I have some work to finish up." The kid hadn't moved from the spot at the counter.

"Fais ce que tu veux." Do what you want. Levi muttered under his breath waving as he ducked into the kitchen. He wasn't sure how the kid knew his name, Hange could have pointed him out or mentioned him but he seemed to know exactly who Levi was.

"I don't know what that means but I will take it as a yes." Levi heard through the swinging door. Levi busied himself with getting the small food stuffs ready for opening and even getting them ready for lunch. He put the breakfast stuff in the oven and put the lunch stuff from the freezer into the cooler to thaw. He was just setting the timer when the door chime went off again.

"Oh! Eren, you're here?" A loud high pitched voice told Levi who it was without looking. Levi did not step closer to the door to hear the kid's-Eren's response.

"Yeah. Levi let me stay. I feel bad. I don't mean to be an imposition." Eren sounded bothered and instantly his face came to Levi's mind wearing a small frown. Levi had spent enough time watching Eren over the last couple years, he knew exactly what he looked like.

"If he thought you were imposing then you wouldn't be here. Don't worry." Hange's voice got louder meaning they were getting closer. Levi scrambled back a few steps and then mentally cursed, he never scrambled anywhere. "Get back to your work, Eren. I'll bring you over a Monday special, I just need to check in with the boss man." Hange stepped through the door to see Levi unconvincingly fiddling with the oven.

"Hange. About time you fucking got here. What is this I hear, you let Eren come in before opening?" Levi demanded. He was trying to keep his cocky attitude but Hange was one of the few that new him best.

"I am sorry, but you know how I get sometimes. I just can't help myself." Hange smiled broadly. "Also, Eren is a good kid. Been dealt a shitty hand but good. I like 'em." Hange shrugged. "He lives with some friends but I think he likes having a space to himself. Anyway!" Hange began darting around the kitchen trying to get things ready so Levi could go back to his job. "You head back to the office, boss. I got it from here. Thank you!" Levi rolled his eyes and headed back into the office, trying to ignore his growing curiosity about Eren.

Later that morning, Levi came out of his office to check on everything to see Eren still at the table he sat at flipping through text books and scrawling down messy notes. He had a little more color than this morning but was still looking haggard. 'Eren is a good kid. Been dealt a shitty hand but good.' Unbidden Hange's comment came to the front of his mind. As he watched, Eren shook out his left arm, rubbing from wrist to mid-forearm looking like he was drowning. Levi felt a pang of sympathy for the young man, he quickly grabbed a pastry and made a cup of green tea. Ignoring the confused stares of Hange and Petra. He walked over and lightly tapped his shoe against Eren's failing to smother a smirk when he jumped.

"Hey, brat. Are you trying to fuse with my furniture today or will you be leaving at some point?" Levi said. Eren blinked up at him before the words sank in.

"Levi! Hi. Um, no. I usually have a class right now but the professor cancelled. So I have been here, quietly sucking up all your wifi and spewing bad vibes. I can leave if you want?" Eren asked, a small hopeful look on his face.

"Oi, stop looking at me like that. If I wanted you gone, you'd be gone. You practically live here. I see no reason to change that now." Levi sat down across from the kid, ignoring that heavy stares his employees were giving him. "What are you studying so intensely you freaked out?" Levi asked. He still kept his treats, waiting for the best moment.

"Calculus. I am going into the art fields but I also want a bio degree in case of later, looks like if I play my cards right I will end up with a Bachelor in Science with chemistry and math minors and an Bachelor in Art with a minor in English and Psychology." Eren sighed. "Not like I chose this but I am taking so many classes to begin with for my double major that the minors all kind of happen. Especially at Trost, so much overlap for each dept. So I will be a jack of all trades buried under a lot of debt." Eren chuckled.

"Wait, I thought I heard you and Shitty Glasses that you were given a full academic ride?" Levi peered at him. Eren's green eyes widened and a pretty blush spread across his cheeks.

"I am. Yes. I don't like to talk about it. Trost only gives full rides to the top 10 kids of the high school's class. I know a lot of people who go to Trost don't have the luxury of free schooling, so I try not to mention it. It makes me uncomfortable when I can't relate to others." Eren shrugged. He looked at the clock on his computer, and closed his textbooks with the pens and notebooks still inside. Levi glanced at his left arm and saw the discoloration of a long scar. It was tapered at the top and bottom, it healed nice but Levi could only think of one thing that made scars like that.

"Are you leaving?" Levi was reminded how he didn't know this kid's schedule and this meager attempt at getting to know him after all this time was ridiculous.

"No. Thought now would be a good time for a break. I try to take ten minutes every hour to look at my phone or whatever. I sometimes walk the store too, give Hange a stack of books to buy later." Eren shrugged. Levi was instantly captivated. This kid was gorgeous, witty, smart, talented, polite, and somehow loaded? Levi wanted-no, needed-to know more.

"Good thing, I thought you could use a break too. Here, A blueberry scone and a honey lemon green tea. I know the tea is new but I think you will like it. It may even help with anxiety." Levi pushed the mug and plate over, with a very small smile on his face. Eren looked between the offering and Levi before beaming. He quickly sanitized his hands, which earned him points with Levi before breaking the scone in half.

"I am assuming-dangerous I know-that this is on the house. If so then I will only accept if you share it with me. Or else, I will pay Hange, right now." Eren's eyes twinkled playfully, matching the smile on his face. Levi sighed in defeat and Eren's grin grew bigger.

Before either of them could say anything, Hange was putting down a clean plate and a cup of black tea before winking and skipping away. Levi felt a shiver of apprehension go down his spine. They would definitely terrorize him over this later. Eren has been visiting for months now, staying some days past close or coming in before opening and staying the whole day, sometimes looking well and sometimes looking like he could run away from his thoughts fast enough, and today of all days Levi decides to sit down and share a scone with this stranger/customer. Levi put his half on his plate with the distinct feeling he lost at something but the soft, warm smile Eren was wearing made it worth it, somehow. The two of them sat, chatting lightly until both their plates and mugs were empty.

"Hey, Levi?" Eren asked. Levi looked up from where he had stacked the dishes, getting ready to leave. "Thank you for everything today. I really enjoyed the company." Eren looked up from the spot on the table he had been staring at to grin at Levi. His green eyes shining and dimples showing.

"Tch. Don't get used to it, brat. Get back to work, you slacked enough today." Levi pushed his chair in and headed back to his office, ignoring the urge to turn around.

"Yes, sir." Eren said to his retreating back. Eren saw his shoulders move in a sigh and Eren couldn't help but smile again. Levi had always distracted and caught his attention. He saw Levi one day in the store and decided to go in, Eren was glad every day he made that slightly impulsive decision. The shorter man with his sharp blue eyes and sharper tongue had Eren hook, line and sinker. Once he arrived for the day not much could pull him away, always wanting one more secret look or overheard joke. Many days, Eren felt like his thoughts were too much, the day too long, the night too short but a couple hours in the café/bookstore with his art tablet were enough to settle him down. He hadn't felt this stable since before his mom died. He was enjoying school and friends and even if some days were bad days, that was all they were, and he knew he could try again the next day.

Eren pulled out his books again, wanting to get a little ahead in his class that was cancelled today, but he was sure it was for nothing. His head was full of Levi. He had welcomed him in early and even gave him a free snack. He talked to Eren, like he really wanted to know about him. He asked about his friends and classes and how his art was coming, Eren realized Levi must watch him as much as Eren watched him. Now Eren's nose was full of his cedar and tea tree oil scent and the image of Levi in a button up rolled to the elbows and looser fit slacks. Eren wondered how much muscle was hidden under his clothes, he had seen Levi carry some heavy boxes around. His arms were well defined and his thighs were perfectly snug in his pants. Eren shook his head, trying to focus and lose the warmth in his cheeks he knew was visible.

After a couple more hours of studying, Eren packed up his school books and pulled out a large binder and a tablet and sketchbook. He had several friends that were going to school to be game developers and as a friend he told them he would help out with character design and lore, since he like to write and draw. Once he got set up he went up to the counter where Hange was just finishing up for the day. "Hange, you haven't left already?" Eren looked confused before checking the time on his watch.

"I came in a little late, so I stayed an extra two hours. Petra is closing with Oluo tonight." Hange put their apron in the dirty laundry bin at the end of the counter. "Did you need something? I can ring you up before I clock out at least." Hange said.

"Yes please. I really shouldn't but I need to finish like 3 characters for Armin and Jean. They had some big changes to the designs I gave them last week." Eren paused, hesitating ever so slightly. He looked around suspiciously. "I need to pay for the treats Levi and I shared. I know I told him it was okay, but I don't want him to make a habit of it, ya know?" Eren rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "I don't want to be seen as a mooch." Hange grinned, glasses glinting scarily under the lights.

"So you need a early evening pick me up and then 1 black tea, 1 Green Tea and 1 blueberry scone? Is that right?" Hange said, a bit louder than acceptable.

"Hange! Shush. Please. That is everything." Eren held a finger to his lips, trying not to flush under her staring.

"Why not accept the gift as it came? Eren, I get where you are coming from, I do. I have to say though, this is the first time he has shown any interest in someone who is new. I know that you have been here for ages already but think. Levi doesn't make uncalculated decisions. I know you are interested and I know he is. If you snub his fist gift, then what happened today may be as far as this goes. Do you understand?" Hange held her finger over the screen , ready for Eren choice.

"Fine, I will take my early evening pick me up and whatever you want instead." Eren said. He looked nervous. "Thanks Hange, I appreciate you help, even though I know it comes from a warped place." Eren chuckled before handing over his payment. Hange sent their order off and clocked out. She waited at the counter for her and Eren's drink. Eren, knowing this headed off to the stacks of books seeing if anything new caught his eye. There were a few art books that had just came in that he quickly grabbed, animated and 2-D character books. He bought them and headed back to his seat where Hange arrived a moment later.

"I can't stay long. I have to go. But I will thank you for the beverage. I will also tell you that while you may think my concern for the two of you comes from a warped place, it also comes from love. Eren, I don't know everything about you. I don't know why some days you looks like the world rests on your shoulders and why some days you look like a 20 something living his best life. I do know that you are an amazing kid though. I know more about Levi than I probably should but I don't know what he is thinking. I don't know why he has preferred all these years to be alone, pardon his family. I will say, I haven't seen him sit down and enjoy a conversation like today in a very long time. So treasure the fact that you are important to Levi Ackerman, for that is no small feat." Hange was uncharacteristically serious, fiddling with their to-go cup. She quickly brightened. "If you have sex, will you take pictures? Or record it? I need to know if that guy is a top or bottom desperately, and I am dying to know your preference too." Hange laughed boisterously at the terror clearly seen on Eren's face. "I am kidding...unless?" Hange wiggled their eyebrows.

"Hange! If you are done harassing my customers then leave. You are scaring the poor kid. He looks like he is about to shit himself." Levi came up to the table saving Eren from having to answer.

Hange pouted. "You ruin all my fun." She looked at her phone to check the time. "I got to jet. There is a program I want to see. Bye!" They darted off, not worried about the terror they left behind.

"Oh my gosh. She is terrifying. Anyway." Eren seemed to shake himself off. "Are you going home?"

"Yeah. I've been here long enough. I got nothing left to do today, so might as well head home." Levi scanned his cafe with sharp eyes.

"Everything okay, Levi? You seem tense." Eren looked around but didn't see anything to cause the reaction.

"Nothing. What about you, brat? You got someplace to be today?" Levi nudged his bag gently with his toes.

"Yeah. I have a 5 pm anatomy lab once a week. I am there until 9 or 10 most nights. I have to get going soon. I should also drop by the house too, check in with Mikasa and Armin." Eren told him. He began packing up his things carefully. "Can I walk you to your car? Or is that being to presumptuous?"

"Maybe a little. But I don't mind." Levi waited until Eren grabbed all his stuff, the new art books included. The two of them walked out, tossing farewells over their shoulder to the closing staff.

"Thank you for walking me to my car, Eren. I feel more like a damsel in distress with each second." Levi's eyes usually harsh and narrow had softened slightly and had a glint to them. Eren could read the intended humor. "Good luck in class. I will see you later." Levi got in his car, not denying that he did feel safer, almost protected when Eren didn't turn away until he turned his car on. Levi pulled away from the curb where he was parked while Eren turned to start the trek to his house to get ready for his anatomy lab/class.

************************************************************************

Any thoughts? Any at all? Hope you liked it!

#saundraswriting #saundrasays #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi x eren #aot modern au #Aot canon divergence #aot fanfiction #S.C Books the fic

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Note

Hola! I hope you day has been good so far! :)

I know I am not the only one to feel this but I adore your blog! I, too, and a fellow writer, but I was wondering how did you gain an audience? How did you start from your first post? Did you wait for requests? Or did you just jump right in?

Sorry, that was a lot of questions, but I was just curious as I’m trying to start up my blog! I really look up to you and your blog! 🥰🤩🥸

-🪐

Hello, hon!

First off, let me just tell you how overjoyed I am at the fact that you thought to ask me. When I first read this I had the biggest smile on my face. It means so much to me that you look up to me. Literally, I am crying over here!

Second of all, I wish I had some really good thought out advice for you. But I really don’t, however, I will give you the best advice that I can.

The first time I ever wrote fanfic, it was an idea that had been plaguing my mind for days. I tried to find other fics that would satisfy me, but I just couldn’t. So I sat down and practically said “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” I had no experience writing but I tried to give it my all. I don’t know why, (But I am thankful I did), but I decided to set up a Tumblr account and post it. I had no expectations of it going anywhere.

However, I woke up the next day with so much love and support being shared over my fic. That is the one thing that has really blown me away; How amazing every single person is in this fandom. They offer so much kindness that it has become mindblowing.

Now, what I do when I write is, as cliche as it sounds, I just write. Whatever comes to my mind, I put it down on paper. (Well really a google doc but we don’t need to know the details) Or if I am laying in bed and something pops into my mind, I write it down on any paper I can find. Now, I just have a pen and notebook that permanently stays on my night desk. Oo, also, whatever you write down doesn’t have to be elaborate, just whatever will make you remember your ideas.

One piece of advice is, when you are writing and you seem to be in a good flow, don’t let little details stop you. If you have no idea where to go next, or what a character should say, just add those handy three little dots, and continue on. Don’t get caught up in the little things! Sometimes I have a plan for a fic, other times I have no idea where I am going with it. But those are always the most fun to write, at least for me.

Writing, for me, is like a puzzle. It has little pieces that when put together, make one really beautiful picture. However, there is no right way to put those pieces together, just whatever seems to work for you.

Now, for how I gained an audience. Man, I really could not tell you. I am still flummoxed with how many people interact with me. However, I would say, make sure to use tags. I know that when I first started reading fanfic I would just read everything under the recent side of a certain tag. Other people do the same thing, so using tags is a huge thing!!! Use gifs and photos, to draw people's eyes to your fic. Do a small summary, make them want to read your fic! Capture them with that first paragraph!!!!

Get yourself out there! Ask for feedback, maybe find a friend who could read your stuff and give you an honest review. I edit my stuff at least twice before I post it. Read through it with a fine pick comb. Read it out loud, does it flow right? Do you stop on any words? Did you misspell anything? Did you use the right version of their, there, or they’re? How about your and you’re? I always find that these simple little things are the ones I often look over, it sucks!

How did I start receiving requests? Again, I have no idea. I just woke up one day and saw that someone had put one in. I was like, hell yeah, let's do this! And I started to write for it. Usually, once people see that you are open to taking requests, they’ll start to ask themselves. It’s kinda a “get the ball rolling” situation. You could also just do a post saying that you are taking requests. In addition, just keep posting, at least semi, regularly. (I need to get better at this too.) Get people to keep seeing your account.

Did I just jump right in? Hell yeah! As I do with everything in my life, why not start big. Like I said before, I was not expecting myself to blow up this much, I still find it crazy. But I just started posting little stories I had written without paying attention to the note count.

It’s easy to become hyper fixated and base your worth off of how many likes you get, how many reblogs you get, and how many people comment on your stuff. In my case, a few months ago, Tumblr was not sharing my stuff so I would only average about five likes per post. Sure I was discouraged, but I had taught myself not to base myself off on those numbers. Thankfully, it has been sorted out, but do you get what I am trying to say? You should be posting for yourself, not a number on a screen.

I try to write as much as I can now. Even if I don’t want to post anything, I still try to do even a small creative writing. You’ll notice that at the beginning of my masterlist, my writing is not as good as my writing now, and probably in a few months, my writing will be so much better. It all just comes down to practice.

Descriptive words are your friend!!! If it’s one thing I’ve learned from all my writing classes, it is to set the scene. The setting is such a big part of a story, and yet some people tend to look over it. Really try and immerse yourself and your characters into the plotline.

Try not to have your sentences start with the same word over and over again. Also, break up your sentence structure. Sure you want a nice flow, but it doesn’t want to become monotonous. In addition, try not to use the same words within your sentences. Just as speaking, when someone says a single word a ton, the listener will become fixated on that word and not pay attention to the rest of them. So, moral of the story, break it up! Find new cool words to use. I always have a tab open where I can just put the word I want to use and look up cool new synonyms.

But at the end of the day, this should be something you enjoy. I’ve seen way too many writers get burnt out and start to view their writing as a job. If you notice that this is starting to happen, take a step back and ask yourself why? Is it the genre? Are you just not feeling the vibe of a story? Are you just in a funk? Etc. Take a break until you feel better! Self-care is the best medicine!

In conclusion, thank you so much for asking me. I wish I had some vast knowledge of fanfic writing, but I really don’t. I am still learning every day. But that is the best part! I love looking back at my old writing and going, “wow I really have grown.” It always feels so rewarding.

I hope this helps you, I know it’s kind of long, but I thought they were all good points. If you want, please tag me when you start to post, I would love love love to read your stuff! Obviously, I understand if you don’t want to, no hard feelings there.

Thank you again, darling. If you feel like no one is supporting you, remember you have me over here ready to help you in any way, shape, or form! I love you so much, and good luck!

#lordys thoughts #lordys advice #🪐 anon #writing #writing advice

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equal-shipping · 4 years ago

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...I have an idea. And it might involve some of the people who follow me.

So first of all, hi. Usually never talk to you guys and just reblog your stuff cause I think you guys are cool. That is my way of you guys knowing that I literally go look at all the blogs of people who follow me. Yes...I am one of those people.

Now for the idea

So we all know how the USPS is kinda having troubles right now and I know that plenty of people in fandom use USPS for all sorts of things and even if we don’t that is how we get our mail. A part of me thought of doing my part and buying stamps and signing petitions but as a writer who still uses a pen and paper to write shit when she does not have a chance to use a phone I thought that maybe I could get a couple of people to start a short story/poetry/any form of writing exchange club that happens all through mail. I have 10% of an idea of how this could run so this won’t be starting RIGHT away but I did want to make an interest check to see if anyone else wanted to be on board. Writing stuff down on notebooks is unheard of nowadays, at least from what I can see, and getting stuff in the mail that isn’t bills is always nice.

Once again, when I say writing I mean literally WHATEVER form of writing you desire. Do you wanna do a review on the latest episode of your favourite show?

That counts. Do you want to vent about a hard day you had and just mail it off to someone?

Sure let’s do that. Hell, doodles count! Just random doodles! Send doodles. This is just a way for people to connect and also helping out an organization. Now this will require you guys to actually talk to me. I’m not gonna count likes or reblogs as a ‘oh they want to join’ because I don’t want to shackle any of you to this idea and then go ‘okay where is your writing?’ But if you wanna reblog it or like it for exposure, that is fine with me. If you are TRULY interested in this, send me an ask, hit me in the tumblr chat thingy, just any confirmation that you might wanna participate and then I’ll have an idea on how to get it started.

#I almost don't want to tag this cause I dont want anyone else to see this #follower stuff

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 6 years ago

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Helping Each Other

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes – Anonymous

Tagging: @aw-hawkeye @caswinchester2000

Fandom: NHL

Relationship: Established; Connor McDavid x Reader

Summary: You help Connor with his injured knee and he helps you study for finals.

Word Count: 723

Warnings: Major Character Injury

“How’s it going?” Connor asked you softly, coming up behind you and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“It’s going.” You said with a sigh and turned around in your chair to look at him. “I thought I told you to stay off your leg.”

Connor shrugged and moved passed you into the kitchen. “Relax, I’m just getting a snack.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a protein shake to show you before moving to sit down across from you at the table.

You shook your head at him. “I could have gotten it for you.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “It’s not broken, babe. I can get my own food and stuff. Make it? Not really, but I can getit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. It was true, Connor couldn’t cook to save his life… “Fine, whatever…”

“I’m glad you find my lack of culinary skills funny.” He said with a serious face, causing you to laugh harder. Some people thought that Connor wasn’t a funny guy, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Connor was really funny.

“I find it hilarious actually.” You said after you managed to stop laughing. You wiped your eyes before looking back at Connor and saw him looking at you with a soft smile.

“Seriously, how’s it going? What class are you studying for?” He asked you, gesturing to your cue cards and notebooks scattered around the table.

You sighed and put your pen down. “Myth, Memory and Canadian Identity.”

Connor’s eyes went a little wide and he nodded his head slowly. “That sounds…Fun.”

You chuckled. “There’s nothing like reading a bunch of theories from white guys in the 80s trying to explain Canadian identity…”

“Well,” Connor said, leaning onto the table. “You’re almost done, so look at the bright side.”

You nodded your head. “I know; I just don’t want to study…”

Connor reached across the table to grab your cue cards before you even realized what he was doing. “Okay, then let me help you.”

“I’m not going to ask you to study with me, babe. You have other things to—“ You tried, but Connor cut you off.

“I don’t have anything else to do because my knee is fucked and the season is over, also, I want to study what old men had to say about Canada. As long as there’s no math, I think I can help.”

You tried to eye him down from across the table, but it didn’t work, so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, but let’s move to the couch so you can elevate your knee.”

Connor smiled. “Deal.��

The two of you moved to the couch and Connor decided your lap would be the perfect pillow, and you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay,” he said as he read the first card. “What is the defining symbol of the country?”

“The canoe.” You answered without hesitation. “Danial Francis tied the canoe to the myth of the wilderness and it has become the official symbol of the country.”

Connor nodded his head. “What is the myth of the wilderness?”

You smiled a little bit. The myth of the wilderness was your favourite of the Canadian myths. “It’s the belief that our link to the land is our defining characteristic as Canadians, that our wilderness is our own, unique only to us.”

“That sounds nice.” Connor said softly and looked up at you in your lap. You smiled down at him and brought your hand up to stroke his hair, which caused him to smile.

“Okay,” he said and pushed himself up a bit. “You got the answer right, so you get a kiss.”

You laughed a little and raised an eyebrow at him. “I do?”

“Yep.” He said, very seriously. “I’m asking the questions, so I make the rules.”

You shook your head a little but leaned down to press your lips to his nonetheless. It was a bit awkward because of the angle, but you guys made it work.

“Okay,” you said when you pulled back from the kiss. “If you’re making the rules because you’re asking me questions, then I make the rules involving your knee and I say that you should put more ice on it while we lay here.”

Connor nodded his head. “I can live with those terms.”

#connor mcdavid #connor mcdavid imagine #connor mcdavid x reader #connor mcdavid x you #connor mcdavid oneshot #edmonton #edmonton oilers #edmonton oilers imgaine #oilers #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #nhl #nhl imagines #mine

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ahiddenpath · 5 years ago

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My Favorite Writing Stuff

One of the best things about writing is that all you need is a pen and paper! But we all have our favorite tools and luxuries, and I thought it might be fun to talk about mine below the cut. Lotsa pics, long post.

Word Processors

Scrivener

The single writing item I use most is my word processor, Scrivener, by Literature and Latte. At some point waaaaaay back in 2012, I found myself writing Growing Up with You in Microsoft Word... And having to wait ten seconds for the screen to adjust and load new text as I scrolled. It was just too danged long for the program to handle. Just reading my manuscript was a nightmare, let alone copying and pasting to move text, shuffle paragraphs, etc. Making a new doc for each chapter quickly became a clunky chore.

THEN I FOUND SCRIVENER, AND IT’S THE BEST.

Scrivener is... not very user friendly; there’s definitely a learning curve. But it was immediately so much better for writing long fiction than Word that I bought a book on the program and read it from cover to cover, which... I don’t think I’ve ever done before. That’s how much of a game changer this was.

The feature I rely on most is the binder.

This is the binder for Four Years, which currently has... Forty-eight chapters. I corralled the chapters into two folders, one for the first year of college (1), and one for the second (2).

If I click folder 1, all of the chapters appear, each snug in their own folder. Once the Scrivener file loads, there is no further loading time. Each folder can be moved by clicking and dragging, as can each text file inside each folder. FREEDOM!

This feature alone was worth the price of the program. They offer a free trial, so please check it out if you’re interested!

Portable Word Processors

I’ve mentioned these before, but I have two portable gadgets that allow me to write on the go, distraction free.

Alpha Smart Neo 2

This might look like the baby of a toddler’s toy computer and a keyboard, but it’s actually my baby.

Just kidding! Sort of! The Alpha Smart Neo 2 is a portable word processor that boots up in a second, is powered by three AA batteries for eons, and weighs about 2 pounds. They are no longer in production (which is a crime), but there are oodles available on Ebay for about $20-30.

(I used to own and talk about my Alpha Smart 3000. The Alpha Smart Neo 2 is the latest model before the company shut down, and the keyboard is nicer; it’s quieter and easier on the fingers).

I honestly can’t say enough about this device. I rarely draft on a computer anymore; it’s just too easy to find yourself surfing the web, falling down a research vortex, or even reading your manuscript instead of writing. Alpha Smarts can remember what you wrote until you delete it. That’s it. That’s all they do. It’s beautiful.

I write about 800 words/hr on a computer. I write about 1,500 words/hr on an Alpha Smart. Distractions are so, so real.

When you’re ready to port your writing from your Alpha Smart to your word processor, all you have to do is connect a printer cable to your Alpha Smart, then plug the usb end into your computer. Open your word processor, turn on your Alpha Smart, select the file you want to transfer, and hit send. If you forget any of this, it’s written on the back of the Alpha Smart.

I know that no one should blame their success or failure on their tools, but... I wouldn’t be able to write nearly as much without my Alpha Smart. And if you ever do writing meet ups, you’ll be the only person who isn’t fighting for a power outlet! It also fits easily into a tote bag or backpack.

Oh, Alpha Smart Neo 2. My partner and friend!

Freewrite

The Freewrite by Astrohaus is... um. Well, it’s a lot like the Alpha Smart Neo 2, except that it’s waaaay more expensive, much harder to use, and has terrible firmware.

There are cool things about it, for sure! For one, it has this weird... Pseudo typewriter feel. It’s much larger and heavier than an Alpha Smart, and I’m not sure that I actually consider it portable... But the thick, angled base practically functions as a lap desk. It’s comfortable to use and has a nice mechanical keyboard.

It has wifi capability, so you can send drafts directly to your dropbox/cloud/email, no cords or transfers needed. The screen is an e-ink scree, like a Kindle Paperwhite, easy on the eyes and readable in the sun. It’s also backlit, which is the one major win over the Alpha Smart.

I bought mine used off ebay for a fraction of the list price (this thing is NOT worth $600 on any planet, goodness gracious mercy dang! I paid about $180), and, um... I still don’t know if it was worth it, not when I can buy an Alpha Smart Neo 2 for $30 tops. I mean, I like the e-ink and the backlit screen, but... There’s a lag between typing and the words populating on the screen. There are no arrows to fix a typo. I had to send 10 emails back and forth to tech support to get it updated and working. It was not broken, and I understood all the directions... It’s just god awful firmware. I also lost a draft because it wipes your device if you open their Sprinter program while using your Freewrite.

I still use it, though! The tactile sensation is really nice, the keys make a satisfying clickety clackety, the E-ink screen is lovely, I adore the option to write in a not-that-well-lit room, and the wifi transfer is faster than my Alpha Smart’s wired method. But I still can’t recommend it as long as Alpha Smart Neo 2s are available, not unless you’re some combination of the following: a writing nut who writes so gosh dang much that these toys are worth it, someone who is big on tactile sensation, someone who likes hipster stuff, or someone who would love an Alpha Smart but can’t read the electronic screen well. If this is you, make sure you also have a strong grasp on how to talk to and understand tech support, because you will need them.

Just never ever EVER open Sprinter...

Notebooks

Leuchtturm1917, hard cover, A5, dotted

MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO MY LOVE, THE LEUCHTTURM NOTEBOOK.

WHERE DO I EVEN START.

The Leuchtturm is... Just the best. The hard cover takes abuse well, stickers hold onto it nicely, it has two ribbon bookmarks and an elastic closure, there’s a folder attached to the back inside cover... The dot version is unobtrusive and encourages smaller writing, which helps the notebook last. And it is available in a rainbow of colors!

The paper is lovely, the pages are numbered, and IT HAS AN INDEX.

I’m a scientist, and working in a Leuchtturm is just like working in a fancy, expensive lab notebook. The set up is done already, man. You just gotta jot down what pages contain what. IT’S SO ORGANIZED, with almost zero effort! Mi amor.

Sure, I could make an index page and number all of my pages manually... But I’ve met myself. I won’t do it. When you combine all of these lovely features, you have one unbeatable notebook.

Plus, they’re easy to obtain in the states! I order them off Amazon or buy them at my local Barnes & Nobles.

Midori MD Notebook, A5, grid

The Midori has even nicer quality paper than the Leuchtturm, but the cover can’t take abuse, and it lacks the nice features. I truly appreciate the paper quality, but the other features bring me back to my Leuchtturms every time.

It’s a Japanese item and is more difficult to import to the states. You can get them off Amazon, though!

Pens

I use Uni-ball Signo 207 gel pens. They write comfortably, and using them feels satisfying. They should be available in most Walmart/Target type stores, at least in the states!

It should be noted that I’m just not a pen buff. I tried fountain pens, and it was more trouble than it was worth for me.

Folios/Traveler’s Notebooks

Okay, so you found the perfect notebook! Wanna make it SUPER DUPER FANCY PANTS?! Well, you could try a traveler’s notebook.

I only learned what a traveler’s notebook is about a year ago, so if you’re also in the dark... It’s a leather cover that holds notebooks inside with elastic. I own these chic sparrows, one for my Midori notebook (or whatever notebook I’m using at the time), and one for my journal.

My full name is etched into them, so please pardon my censorship XD

The chic sparrow traveler’s notebooks are so elegant and decadent and... I won’t lie, I literally move one or both around the house with me, just so I can look at them.

The one on the left is a Mr. Darcy deluxe, size A5, in the Wickham color. The one on the right is an Enchanted Woods deluxe, size A5, in the Elderwood color.

They have lots of pockets on the inside, a pen loop, and elastics to hold multiple notebooks. This one is strung with a Midori notebook. I also have a smaller B6 one that I use as a wallet! It holds a small notebook, so I can write down those ideas that always happen when I’m out and don’t have paper. The pockets hold IDs, credit cards, and cash.

It’s just this... magical, opulent item. While it’s likely the least practical thing on this list, it’s very special to me.

Lap Desks

I HAVE A HARRY POTTER RAVENCLAW STORAGE DESK FROM POTTERY BARN AND I FEEL LIKE A WITCH WHEN I USE IT.

Oh dear, I took a terrible picture, it looks so lovely in person.

The top can slide in both directions, revealing enough storage for several A5 notebooks, pens, and more. It’s a great way to cart your stuff into your favorite cozy nook for a writing session. Plus, you’ll feel like a Hogwarts student! It’s available in all four house designs, plus a Hogwarts crest version.

Pottery Barn puts these on sale occasionally. I’d aim for 25% off before buying.

My Writing Bag

I decked out a tote bag in writing pins to carry my Alpha Smart, thesaurus, a notebook, and pens. You can use any bag, as long as it accommodates what you need! Here are my fave sources for writing-related pins:

Literary Emporium, who makes my favorite pin, “Still I Rise,” a Maya Angelou quote. They have the most gorgeous pins.

When life gives you lemons, read them, advice for the ages

And fandom:

Digivice pin

My beloved Sailor Moon pin, the loveliest pin I’ve ever seen (not shown because it lives on my Sailor Moon jacket!). All of the inner senshi are available!

THAT’S ALL, THAT WAS SO MUCH. Please let me know if you try any of these out!

#writing #writing supplies #my favorite writing stuff #my writing stuff #faves

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