#listen its been repeating on tv and it was one of my first fandoms when i was 12 so ive accidentally fallen down a nostalgic rabbit hole

[irisbleufic]

Of all the current Devil’s Minion writers your playlist is the one I want to see. Do you have one? If not, are there particular songs you’ve been listening into to while you write? The vibe of your prose with them is hypnotizing like the short story about them in the books, it’s impressive, and does your music also inform this choice if at all?

Intense question, anon. Fourteen-year-old me fucking hyperventilated after reading the DM chapter in Queen of the Damned (me, on the floor of my bedroom at 3am because I don’t want to get caught reading this book, staring dazed at the ceiling; me, now, three weeks ago, sitting shellshocked on the sofa after watching S1 and S2 over two days as a binge; me, over two of those weeks following the binge, rereading the first half of the Chronicles and starting to see double, tilt the prism, see what happens when the narratives are overlaid and blurred), and it still feels like that. Likely my prose turning out the way it is in these stories is about 90% my giddy teenage self having access to my adult self’s writing experience to finally write this beloved pairing without fear of litigious letters (IYKYK, my fellow elder Millennials in the fandom). I don’t often love film and TV adaptations of my favorite books, but I adore this show. It’s flawlessly transformative; its improvements only make the resonances and overlaps that much more meaningful. No notes.

However, I have been listening to the same small handful of songs on repeat for 6 days as I write these pieces. I imagine they are affecting my sense of scansion at points; my writing life didn’t begin with fiction, it began with years of poetry before I ever tried prose. These tracks are as meaningful to me as poems as they are songs. It’s as good a starting point for a playlist as any; I’ll keep adding and put it together on Spotify at some point.

1. Vesuvius - Sufjan Stevens

Vesuvius, I am here

You are all I have

Fire of fire, I'm insecure

for it is all been made to plan

Though I know I will fail

I cannot be made to laugh

for in life as in death

I'd rather be burned

than be living in debt

This song was my entire first 72 hours of writing. I’m that Autistic weirdo who will listen to a single song on repeat for a month and think nothing of it. Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii being the nexus point of their love story from beginning to end in QotD, this is everything to me; I was never going to be able to write about the show incarnation of them without integrating this location and this imagery in the most reverent love letter I know how. This is why my series title for these stories is Caldera. Volcanic crater blowout if ever I saw one; I ran with it.

2. I Forget Where We Were - Ben Howard

Hello love, my invincible friend; hello, love, the thistle and the burr. For you, I have so many words—and I, I forget where we were. I haven’t known this song for all that long in the grand scheme, but it found me via Spotify shuffle in 2022 right after something awful happened. The longing in this song hinges on one of the lovers in it waking up to something they’ve forgotten about their relationship, something precious, and I’m thrilled to finally have a fandom application for it.

3. Make You Better - The Decemberists

I sung you your twinges

I suffered you your tattle-tales

and when you broke sideways

I wanted you, I needed you, oh

to make me better

Oh, to make me better

But we're not so starry-eyed anymore

like the perfect paramour you were in your letters

And won't it all just come around to make you

let it all un-break you to the day that you met her

No excuse for this one; it does a great job of speaking for itself. Front-man Colin Meloy is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, and his work is frequently dark, creepy, and/or gothic enough in flavor that I could find a few more.

4. Song to the Siren - Elisabeth Fraser & This Mortal Coil

On the floating shipless oceans

I did all my best to smile

till your singing eyes and fingers

drew me loving to your isle

and you sang, “Sail to me,

sail to me, let me enfold you—

here I am, here I am,

waiting to hold you.”

This cover of Tim Buckley’s folk masterpiece completely transforms the vibe of the song, and in the kind of way you need for this pairing. This one is at responsible for the events and imagery in my “Still Life with Sunken Treasure.”

5. Hal - Yasmine Hamdan, Only Lovers Left Alive OST

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اطلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي شرّفي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وطلعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اتريحي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتلحلحي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وسمعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اتفرفشي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي قربي

لأ ما أقدرشي

فرشنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اقلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتجرأي

لأ مش ممكن

شلحنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اتغندريله

يا حبيبتي اتذوقيله

افهمي يا سيدي مش قادرة

وطبعا تقنعني مش واخدة

ايه يا عزيزة؟

ايه اللي إنتي عملاه ده؟

يا يا يا راجل يا هوه!

مش عيب عليك اختشي ونو

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اخلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتشخلعي

لأ مش ممكن

يا خيبتي يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اتبغددي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي جربي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وجينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس

جينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس

I don’t think the Arabic justified to the correct side when I copied this, but the translation is very easy to find. I don’t speak Arabic, but honestly the English translation is dull compared to the beauty of this language. If you haven’t watched Only Lovers Left Alive, what the hell are you even doing with your vampire-loving, monster-fucking life? All the tracks on it have the right vibe for DM, really.

[mellxncollie]

Voor the Director's Cut ask game: Which gifset you made in 2024 are you most proud of and how did you come up with the idea for it?

thanks for asking! i think i’m most proud of the last edit i made in 2024, this edit of monty to the song pajarito colibrí by natalia lafourcade.

conceptually, it was a very long time in the making, but it only took about 3ish hours to make when i sat down to do it. i’ve always wanted to include more non-english stuff in my gifs for dbda, but seeing as this is the first fandom ive actively created for where the source material is nearly 100% english, it’s a bit harder to justify (i used to make gifs for various non-english bands as well as wrote fanfic for some multilingual tv shows and movies, so including other languages felt more natural there).

in early december, i made this edit, and it was a personal challenge to put my music library on shuffle, pick a lyric from one of the first 10 songs, and then i gave myself 30 min to make the gifs. on discord, i mentioned it being a bit difficult because my music library has a lot of different languages represented, and @tumblerislovetumblerislife @idliketobeatree both encouraged me to actually do something in another language so i started to be on the lookout for song lyrics i wanted to make edits for.

at the same time, ive been listening to a lot of natalia lafourcade recently and this song in particular was on heavy repeat all december.

also, @aletterinthenameofsanity was working on this ghostcrow holiday au fic that i was reading while traveling to visit my family over the holidays, and i was strongly identifying with that version of monty during the journey.

the song is about a hummingbird as a messenger, telling us to live life freely and embrace nature and happiness, which felt representative of monty’s goals in kenna’s fic (and reflected in canon), and was a messsge i was trying to internalize and hold with me as a reminder while being around my family during the holidays.

all of these things collided on christmas eve and i put this gifset together. it’s not my most complex gifset, and i don’t think it’s necessarily the best one ive made, but im really proud of it and its personal meaning.

[sydneyscarm]

“about the blogger” meme

thank you to @bioloyg for tagging me :)

y’all don’t really know me so this’ll b fun

star signs: aquarius sun, gemini moon, capricorn rising,,, two air signs in my big three might scare u but trust my chart is earth dominant!!!! i promise!!!!

fav holiday: i love christmas! im not particularly religious, and i don’t consider myself christian or catholic like when i was a child, but i love the lights and the music and the gift-giving and general holiday cheer

last meal: lol i think i had a joint for dinner last night honestly. just forgot to eat and went straight to bed after smoking. i’m about to eat filipino spaghetti for breakfast though

current fav musician: faye webster (specifically jonny rn) and beyonce (all of renaissance has been on repeat since its release) and victoria monet (all of jaguar II is insane, grammy sweep i just know it)

last music listened to: probably ctrl (deluxe) by sza on my way home from work last night

last movie watched: taken, that action movie with liam neeson lmfao. but if we’re talkin movie theater viewing, it was the ballad of songbirds and snakes

last tv watched: i’ve been rewatching s2 of bridgerton. kate & anthony the couple that you are.

last book/fic finished: the last book was catching fire (i was rereading thg like the rest of the world) and the last fic i read was an unfinished sydcarmy fic i found literally an hour ago called all things go (all things go) everyone should read it, very good.

last book/fic abandoned: last book i abandoned was speak, okinawa. it’s a memoir about an asian girl’s struggling relationship with her mother and her culture. very good (and relatable) but extremely heavy so i took a pause on it.

currently reading: thg resurgence so i’m reading the ballad of songbirds and snakes, i didn’t get to finish it before watching the movie and i keep getting caught up so it’s taking forever to finish, but im almost done w it

last thing researched for art/writing: i haven’t full-fledged written for fandom in probably years. but i used to research a lot of fighting techniques cause i was deep in the my hero academia brain rot LMFAO

fav online fandom memory: i mostly inhabited twitter fandom spaces so in 2020 i was placed in a ship gc and i met one of my best friends on there <3 so i think that would be it

fav old fandom you wish would have a resurgence: the show is quite shit and not good at all but, for nostalgia reasons, i would love to see fairy tail (anime) have a resurgence. i bet the fics would be soooo top tier compared to when i was like 9 and reading fics on wattpad and ffnet

fav thing you enjoy that never had an active or big “fandom” but you wish it did: this is more to do w me being interested in things once hype dies down and less to do with a fandom actually being active or big, but i absolutely devoured s2 of bridgerton when i first saw it. and i read every single fic in that kathony tag.

tempting project you’re trying to reign in/don’t have time for: i don’t really write anymore and have stuck to silly posts and headcanon threads but i’ve had a pride and prejudice sydcarmy au stuck in my head for a couple days

this was fun now u know some of my life!!! im pretty sure @bioloyg tagged everyone that i come across in this fandom so ive got no one WHOMP but feel free to do this if u see it 😛

[erins-quinn]

“about the blogger” meme

thanks for the tag @currymanganese @cruciomione and @ashluvsu4ever (some tagged sydneys-adamu but that’s still me!! lol) this is late as hell but y’all are real cool! 🩷

star sign: scorpio! as far as all that other stuff like rising and moon and sun I’m not sure.

favorite holiday: I don’t have one but I’d have to say christmas for the food

last meal: chicken soup bc winter slapped me in the face now I’m sick

current favorite musician: don’t have one! I kinda hate music

last music listened to: “I know the end” by phoebe bridgers. doesn’t help my I hate music stance but that song is great so what I will do is put that song and just that song on repeat for months and not even touch anything else. I’ve also been listening to the parade revival bcr for months now.

last movie watched: blue beetle I think? and that was kind of a while ago. but great film! a lot better than I was expecting.

last tv show watched: besides just putting stuff on for noise im gonna say jury duty. an incredible watch you should consider if you haven’t already.

last book/fic finished: it was sydcarmy but I can’t remember the title. but it’s about their first fight in the cross over between whatevership and relationship and carmen gets sick and I’m also sick so!!

last book/fic abandoned: I mean I don’t read books, so that’s abandonment all on its own and if I abandon fics im not gonna publicize that lol.

currently reading: … not a book. and honestly idk basically besides re reading I’m currently reading most sydcarmy wips. I haven’t read for a different fandom since june lmao.

last thing researched for art/writing/hyper-fixation: I think “how to make a crochet coaster” I’m thinking about starting to sell and of course idk how to go about it but I figure actually making shit is a good start? who knows.

favorite online fandom memory: this isn’t a “fandom” per se (say? idk) but back in 2020-2021 I used to spend a lot of time on twitch and I got really attached to this one guy and his community. anyways I called a pop tart and a toaster strudel the same thing and got positively annihilated by the chat. twas very funny.

favorite old fandom you wish would drag you back in/have a resurgence: hmmm idk. for the sake of not having the same answer twice I’d say maybe cobra kai. I really miss loving that show and the ship I was attached to had meta that reminds me of sydcarmy. when the engagement was high it was really fun and if people suddenly decided to start caring again I’d go right back.

favorite thing you enjoy that never had an active or big “fandom” but you wish it did: american vandal!!! it’s less that I want it to have a big fandom because really who wants that and more I just wanted to know the show was appreciated, which it wasn’t :(

tempting project you’re trying to reign in/don’t have time for: I was almost roped into embroidery and punch needling and then I had to actually consider the fact that there’s no way I could commit to that. maybe one day tho.

if u see this pretend I tagged you and do it! :)

[agayconcept]

.

[llycaons]

I saw les mis live today (special treat). I’ve seen the show in high school and read the book a few times, but not recently

it’s such a gut punch to think that the social issues the books addresses are still a massive problem. idk about france but at least here in the us

I haven’t been listening to any music recently so when they started singing I was like “oh shit! this is great! cool how they do that!’

I didn’t cry, but at the beginning and at the end I got very close. ‘look down’ is such a fucking visceral song series

I forgot they have a live orchestra so halfway through I noticed the conductor and went ohhhh yeah there’s people down there playing instruments. sweet

my first les mis experience was the 2012(?) movie, which may have been bad musically speaking (didn’t love the valjean) but I have a lot of fondness for javert’s nasally voice and samantha barks’s eponine

I always had a crush on eponine when I was younger because barks was that beautiful, and in the books the ways she was described really appealed to me because I was 15 and didn’t think about how tragic her life was and sad it was that she’s been hardened by her experiences at such a young age. but I also think I connected with her loneliness a lot...leave marius and I’ll treat you right etc.

the theater songs are slightly differently delivered than in the movie, which I found sounded unnatural. they really have to sing fast, wow

live theater is really cool!! I haven’t been able to see any in years, and the lighting, effects, design, etc. are all so different from film and tv, they have so many more limitations but also unique opportunities that tv doesn’t. and I really loved to see how they put together each set right there on stage and how nothing looked *realistic* but the performance has its own character because of it

les mis has some of my favorite theater songs of all time, but also some of the most boring :/ ‘bring him home’ and ‘drink with me’ barely have real melodies. also im sorry but all the lyrics to ‘I dreamed a dream” are very juvenile. I get that fantine is young but those lyrics just sound ridiculous

but I really loved master of the house and lovely ladies, those are SUCH fun songs. I think the thernardiers were some of the first villains I saw onscreen who were just really fun with it

so fucked up that they killed gavroche. SO fucked up. I think his death scenes, in both the movie and the theater, were just gutting. I get why they did it! it was a good choice! but wow

I like how the movie had javert give gavroche that medal in recognition of his courage, but why did they actually have rain during ‘a little fall of rain’? the point was that eponine was so soaked in her own blood she just thought it was raining

the movie is the most pared-down version of the story that can still be comprehensible. it’s impressive how condensed they made events. the theater had several scenes I remember from the book that couldn’t fit into the movie

watching made me want to read the book again, it had so much detail that i really enjoyed when I had energy to get through it

god, anyone remember the les mis fandom ca. 2012? naturally people would flock to the shippable college students with one-sentence personalities and repeat the catchy songs and make memes rather than actually consider the social messages in the book or talk about the actual main character

speaking of messages, this is the only story where I watch it and feel I kind of get people being into catholicism to which

even so something that drove me crazy about valjean was in the books he would just not enjoy himself or let himself be happy. catholics will love to suffer. catholics will present suffering as a noble thing to do in life so you get rewarded in heaven. drove me up a wall. in the book he literally had no reason not to be with cosette he just felt unworthy of her or something and would just stop visiting her even though they missed each other so bad

oh wait it’s because he told marius about him being a convict but not about anything else in his life and it made marius cut him off because he thought he was evil or smt even though valjean later revealed that his wealth was from an honest idea he had and they reconcile just before he dies. so what was the fucking point, anyway? be as miserable and noble as you can die and then get to heaven because you were Good (tm) ugh

also, why didn’t valjean just tell marius who he was? he knew cosette loved marius back, what need was there for him to do this elaborate sewer crawl after marius was injured? what if marius had been shot dead, huh? like I know the character reasons for his determination to do everything in the most secret way possible but it would have made things so much easier

don’t love how women and sex workers are treated about by any of the versions or how cosette is treated by valjean or marius like she can’t handle the truth but for 1860s, not as bad as it could have been?

but the themes of just...kindness and second chances and forgiveness and sympathy for the most oppressed and mistreated members of society and doing right by others and loving them is so fucking good anyway

[fndmxreader]

fandom: harry potter. pairing:  remus lupin x reader | the reader simps for lupin because isn’t that all what we do daily ?  summary:   connected to the self indulgent series where the reader is a slytherin muggle born witch working alongside the teachers at hogwarts.   note: this series will bounce around a lot involving timelines, but a lot of them don’t really have a coherent story line anyway.  movie setting:  prisoner of askaban.  pov:   she/her pronouns.

you were looking off into the distance in a daze, end of pen in mouth as your writings came to a halt and instead getting caught up in thoughts.  your summer hadn’t been great,  if you were being completely honest :  your muggle friends were getting on your case regarding being missing for a year,  you knew at some point you had to pick : the wizarding world or the muggle one,   living two lives was absolutely exhausting,  living them meant being two types of people - like one example,  you had accidentally used a levitating spell to put a cup back and last minute your friend walked in, smashing on the floor as your hand flinched down to your side.

“ what was that crash ? “  “ i put the mug too close to the counter, “ you had laughed nervously, quickly walking towards the glass to pick it up “ it fell off as a result ”  “you’re clumsiness is going to be the death of you “    

that was only one of the close calls,  there were far too many to keep track of,  including dropping hints to the wizarding world in conversation, only to stutter and try and say you were referencing a bizarre indie movie from overseas. at this point you were trying to pick would it be even possible to choose a side ?  it seemed impossible just to pick one over the other,  especially knowing that no matter what route you take it would result in an empty, hollow feeling left inside of chest.    you’re not sure who you could go to for guidance,  you weren’t familiar with any muggle borns your own age,  and talking to a pureblood or half blood would go in vein,  the latter would understand to some degree,  but ultimately it’s not the same and with it being so complicated,  listening to people who barely got it would be a waste of time and only twist the knife in gut. 

 “ everyone,  i would like to introduce you to remus jo - “     that was all you really heard dumbledore say before ears blocked out the world like static,  everything beyond the screaming in your head made everything else seem like a distant hum with no tune,  a crackle of a tv that can’t quite catch signal.  your pen tapped against your bottom lip,  perching against it as you eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.   

maybe professor dumbledore could help,  he wouldn’t get it but maybe he could shred some light on the situation ? he was always good at that. 

“ miss l/n - “

perhaps it’s all just being blown out of proportion,  work leave would surely be something the muggles would understand that.  even if they are after photos, work gossip and other details - 

“ y/n “  between the firmness and the sudden block of your view as the men stepped into eyesight causes you to flinch,  reeling away from nothing in panic as you try and grasped your surroundings once more,   blinking up in a rapid succession that causes concern to flash on the two men’s faces.  it takes a moment to register where you were,  the surroundings,  what the hell was going on in general... 

“ huh ? “  your tongue pokes out to roll against your bottom lip,  eyes wide as you stared up at dumbledore,  only for sight to break away from the one your most familiar with to the new guy...    you won’t lie to yourself,  you weren’t ready for seeing someone like him,  especially in your state.  his eyes were beaming with life,  amusement dancing behind dark hues as a faint smile tugged at lips,  hands pushed far into pockets as eye contact seemed to lock,  your lips part to say something,  anything but much like before your brain seemed to short circuit,  this time for an entirely and much more embarrassing reason,  “ huh ? “ you repeated again,  cheeks coming to life with colour as you kept looking at the new guy.

“ this is professor lupin, y/n.   the new defence against the dark arts teacher - “  speaking slower now,  and you’re rather grateful for the approach because you really needed things to stop going by so quickly,  the whole world seemed to flash in front of you at lightening speed.

“ oh “ a pause,  then it really began to register “ OH ! “  it was the most beautiful example of a pin drop ever to grace hogwarts’ walls  (  yes,  dumbledore will be thinking about it years to come  )   -  you jump up rather clumsily and hold your hand out to the man  “ hi,  sorry  -  i was just ... never mind,  hi  ! “ you repeated again,  the embarrassment settling deep within bones,  making itself at home in the creases of mind that would take weeks to weave out.  but regardless of the mocking in head, you do your best to not feed it and give it anymore attention... at least for the time being.   lupins much bigger hand wraps around yours,  a firm but gentle grasp as he finally takes the moment to speak himself. 

“ that’s quite alright,  i can tell that we disturbed you.  in fact i believe we should be the ones apologising, however professor dumbledore here insisted on the introduction - “ it came easily,  between tone of his voice and the warmth of his hand, you’ve never felt safer, it was like being in a warm hug beside the fire on the night of winter;   you mentally slap yourself for acting like a teenager towards a complete stranger.   your eyes however, narrow towards dumbledore,  in a way blaming you own pathetic display on him.  a faint smile on his lips as he made up some excuse to leave the pair of you alone,  not at all hiding the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at the scene that played out. 

your hand flexed around remus’,  far too busy sending daggers at dumbledore walking away than the fact you were still holding the older man hostage,  not helping the murmured   “ ugh,  he can be such an arse sometimes - “ 

“ i believe that’s apart of the charm “ remus chimed,  your eyes moving back to his as you smiled up at him once more,  less tense than what your face was previously  “ um,   miss l/n ?  your hand - “ 

“ oh, fuck, sorry - “   instantly your arms folded across your chest,  the blush only darkening your cheeks “ i promise i’m not this socially inept,  well,  at least to this extent - “ 

“ oh,  don’t fret.  i’ve met much worse people,  i myself tend to panic in social situations.  they’re not my forte “   you shoulders relax,  though you can’t help but note that he seemed surprisingly at ease even with the confession. your eyes dance around the staff room,  much to your own relief they seemed to be back to focusing on their own work. 

“ well,  you’re doing much better than me if that’s any help.  so,  you’re teaching dark arts -  ? “ then the conversation seemed to spark to life without much spluttering after that,  eventually both sitting on the couch and bonding over lessons;  including how you got your position in the first place,   your arm rested on the back of the furniture as your body turned fully to him,  the longer the pair of you were sat there,  the more they progressed beyond work and more into personal ones, about experiences outside of hogwarts and within the walls, not helping the fits of giggles that bubbled in your chest. 

“ being a slytherin comes with the natural title of ‘dark pranks,’  most of us tend to live up to the name.  people demonise us,  so we give them a reason to continue it.  that certainly doesn’t end at our humour, i think it shows more than ever in that aspect - “ you giggled again, head shaking  “ i remember my friends putting a real snake in one of the gryffindors bed covered in animals blood, the girl panicked for weeks  -  but they started it  ! “   

“ i must say being a gryffindor myself,  i feel like i should be offended on behalf of them.  then again,  my friends here were trouble makers as well.  their pranks could... “  wrist rolled in the air,  and while there’s a hint of pain twisting in features and a haunted look that seemed to cover bright eyes,  there was still a fondness in how he spoke  “ extremely, well and truly out of hand ? “

“ ahah  ! “  it’s like a triumph,  finger pointing at the others face   “ you can hide behind the fancy wording all you want, professor.  but you gryffindors can be just as over the top as the rest of us,  if not more so ! “  he knocks your hand away from his face playfully,  grin widening as mock offence does its best to take over features.

“ firstly,  you may call me remus,  second of all,  i will agree with nothing you say,  i would never stoop so low. “ 

your heart skipped a beat at the notion. 

“ you may call me y/n, only when you admit i’m right - “ 

a nice joke to push down the giddiness of calling him by his first name the short hours of knowing him. 

“ how very slytherin of you - “ 

“ how very gryffindor of you to point that out, remus “ 

the back and forth banter eventually came to a halt, as minutes ticked by it was time to go to the great hall for food and to sort out the new years. you and remus walked in a comfortable silence,  a lightness surrounding you both as it showed in your steps, and showed in the way his lips remained locked in a subtle smile.  you were left with one feeling...  finally, dumbledore hired someone worthwhile. you would also give him a hard time for that awkward bow that he did at dinner. 

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Fear Street x Bly Manor AU - Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/10 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti Summary:

The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.

Chapter 2:

Sam hadn’t been kidding when she said she would deal with the kids by herself. About nine years as a teacher were worth it. She knew exactly how to balance patience and authority, and exactly when to crack a smile. It wasn’t time for smiles though. It was time to let the kids of Shadyside manor know that their days of self-government were over. Sam was brought there to bring them an education, and that included rules, discipline, and consequences to their actions.

So, if they locked her in a closet, there would have to be a sort of punishment. If they were responsible for the muddy footprints that appeared on the staircase of the house, there would also be a punishment. Nothing too severe, of course. Sam knew even the word punishment seemed too hard for kids. But she knew this would be her only chance at asserting her position in that place.

That was how, after breakfast, Sam found herself with nothing to do while Josh and Constance worked on cleaning up the stairs. Luckily, she was quickly approached by two of her coworkers.

“So, since you have put the kids to do my work,” Kate said. “Why don’t you come hang us for a bit?”

Simon pulled out one of the chairs from the table and with a flourish offered it to Sam, “Miss Fraser, would you care to join us for a mid-morning shit-talking session?”

“Oh, sure,” Sam chuckled nervously and accepted the seat. “And you can just call me Sam.” She couldn’t help repeating herself. She didn’t exactly have good memories attached to her name. She only ever wished to be just Sam.

“Don’t creep her out, please,” Kate told her friend and two of them took a seat as well. “So, Sam, what do you think of the house so far? And the kids?”

The new au pair took her time to answer. “The house is… big. It’s uh, I mean, sure, it looks scary. But once inside, it doesn’t feel as bad as the rumors make it out to be, you know?”

Kate nodded firmly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Simon grinned playfully and leaned forward on the table as if about to discuss a secret, “You don’t have haunted houses in Sunnyvale?”

Sam chuckled bitterly at that. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret for anyone the place she came from. If only they knew the full story. “No we don’t,” she looked down and shook her head. “Sunnyvale has its different types of hauntings though.”

“What about the kids?” Kate blurted out.

“The Sunnyvale kids?”

“What? No! Constance and Josh,” Kate scoffed, and sent an unimpressed look in Sam's way. 

“Oh, right,” Sam laughed nervously. She desperately hoped she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. Kate was staring at her very intently, studying her. But it was, somehow, not getting exactly the effect she was hoping for in Sam. Because yes, maybe Sam was deeply intimidated. But she could also tell that Kate’s harshness came from a place of being protective of the kids and caring about them. “They seem great, really,” Sam eventually replied. “Constance is bold and Josh is an introvert, but I’ve dealt with kids like that my entire life. I’m going to try my best with them though, that’s for sure. I just… have to get to know them.”

At that moment, Kate and Simon exchanged a look. Sam had no doubt it was true that those two had been best friends for a long time. It seemed like a really important conversation was silently happening between them. Finally, Simon spoke up.

“No, you haven’t worked with kids like them,” he replied, suddenly very careful with his words. “No offense, you know? But, bold and introverted mean different things in Sunnyvale and Shadyside. Here they mean something more along the lines of survivor and traumatized.”

A not completely discreet cough from Kate got him to stop talking. “No, I know, I’m sorry,” Sam was quick to apologize. They weren’t completely wrong. “I know, it’s just, well… I don’t know anything… I mean, what, uh, why…” She ended with a sigh and slumping in her chair, knowing there was no right way to ask the questions she had in mind.

“Constance’s parents died two years ago,” Kate said. She was speaking almost in whispers, but it nearly startled Sam, who didn’t think she’d get any sort of explanation. Afterward, she would hope she hadn’t. “Cindy Berman and husband. Plane crashed. Then, last year… her aunt. Christine killed herself here on the property. Really gives you some perspective into all the fucking rumors, doesn’t it?”

Afterward, Sam was beyond speechless. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a thing to say. That’s when Simon joined in.

“And Josh, he… uh, well, he is not one of the Bermans,” Simon was struggling to explain. “Look, he has his own fucked up past, okay? But I can’t tell you more because Deena would totally kick my ass. It’s their story to tell, you know? The past is the past anyway.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. At least, she hoped she appeared thoughtful. Not too thoughtful though. Just thoughtful enough for someone that has perfectly normal reactions to hearing the name of a very particular co-worker. That momentary panic at least gave her an idea of how to reply to the tough conversation. A change of subject.

“What about you guys?” Sam asked. “How did you end up working at the manor?”

Instantly, Kate seemed to relax. “I just like bossing people around,” she grinned, earning laughter from the other two. “My aunt used to work here. Alice pays well enough. And if you don’t get scared easily, it’s not a bad place to live in.”

Sam smiled at her and then looked at Simon, noticing how he didn’t look half as relaxed as Kate this time. “What can I say?” he smiled in a way that kept a lot hidden. “It pays the bills. It’s close to home. And I fucking love food.”

The au pair decided it wasn’t time to push for more information. Instead, in that brief moment of silence, she turned her head to look through the door at Josh and Constance working on the stairs. They were doing well, but their day was far from over. From her point of view, she had no way of seeing the man standing on the other side of the stairs. Tommy Slater had been standing there for longer than he could remember. He was still wearing his red flannel shirt, still holding on to his axe, still looking impossibly sad, cold, and lonely.

--

As she made her way to the greenhouse, Sam tried to convince herself she wasn’t nervous at all. She had no reason to be anxious at all. Deena Johnson was another one of her coworkers. Sure, maybe she pulled Sam out of a pretty embarrassing breakdown the previous night. Yes, maybe she had an incredible smile that almost painfully reminded Sam of feelings she had spent a lifetime running from. But… she reached the greenhouse before coming up with a reason not to be on edge.

“Hi?” she called out, tentatively stepping inside the place.

“Over here,” a voice replied from the back of the greenhouse. A voice that was like no other Sam had ever heard.

“Um, hi, Deena,” Sam approached her slowly. “It’s me, uh, Sam.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Deena replied, a small smile on her lips. She stood up from the ground, where she had been kneeling down to work on one of the multiple plants that filled this space. “What do you have there?” Deena asked, nodding toward the plate Sam was holding in her hand.

Sam looked down, as if she had forgotten what it was she was carrying. “Simon,” she blurted out.

“Oh. He looks a little bit different than I remember.”

That made Sam laugh nervously. “I mean, it’s your breakfast,” Sam said. “You didn’t come down for breakfast and Simon asked me to bring it to you.”

Deena nodded slowly, and accepted the plate from Sam’s hands. Then she moved to one of the two chairs at the back of the greenhouse and sat down, inspecting her breakfast.

Afterward, Sam might chastise herself for it, but at the moment she couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’re welcome.”

That earned her an annoyed sigh from the gardener. “Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Deena said.

“Do what?” Sam wondered, taking a seat on the spare chair.

“Play nice with us, with me,” Deena explained, nearly whispering the last part.

“I…” Sam stuttered, she was definitely taken off guard. “Well, we are coworkers now, we live under the same roof, I think-”

“I think you have no idea what you got yourself into. This place, and everyone here, is doomed,” Deena interrupted her. “You’re Sunnyvale, we are Shadyside trash. I know your type. I only hope you’ll run away before the kids get attached to you.”

For a moment, all Sam could do was stare, frown silently at Deena, as the other woman nonchalantly got started on her breakfast, as if she hadn’t just put Sam’s entire mood upside down. It was interesting though, the way Deena chose not to mention the fact that she skipped breakfast just to avoid a set of blue eyes that were too dangerously pretty to wander into Shadyside.

Sam jumped out of her seat, and took a deep breath to reign in her feelings. “You don’t know me at all,” was all she said before walking out of the greenhouse.

--

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of hard work, mostly for the kids. Surprisingly though, at one point they stopped looking so bothered about it. Josh wasn’t the kind to complain out loud, but Sam noticed from the way his shoulders relaxed and his lips almost started to smile. Constance, on the other hand, was pretty content complaining as much as possible, but she seemed happier doing something new, entertaining, and different from studying. They especially seemed to enjoy working outside.

Sam had wanted to avoid the unkind gardener as much as possible, but she had already planned this, so there was no turning back. This was part of the kids’ education, hard work, and Sam was proud of her methods. The one thing she wasn’t proud of was the way the gardener was making her feel. Her plan to avoid Deena had backfired. Deena, Kate, and Simon were lounging in the garden, while Sam guided Josh and Constance on their work.

As hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t stop herself from second-guessing what her new coworkers were talking about. Were they talking about her? Good things? Did Kate and Simon feel the same way as Deena? Were they criticizing her? Those smiles on their faces, was that a good or bad sign? Deena’s posture on that chair, the way she held a cigarette, played with the delicate chain hanging from her neck, teased her young brother, locked eyes with Sam precisely once… did it mean anything at all?

--

The rest of the morning went by easily. Sam dragged Josh and Constance back to the house to continue cleaning, and they had to comply. Tragic as it seemed, they couldn’t complain to anybody. Kate, Simon, Deena, even Alice in the safety of her own home, they all would have supported Sam’s teaching methods at best, would’ve laughed in their faces at worst. 

Things couldn’t be perfect though. Sam would scold herself for letting her guard down at all. She had been in one of the bedrooms, assisting Constance with cleaning the windows, when it happened. One second it was just a window, showing the green grounds around the property, nothing more. Then the next second, all Sam could see was his face. Dark. Just a shadow. Furious. Disgusted. Head tilted. Observing her. Unforgiving. Horribly familiar.

Sam let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backward. She caught herself before falling down to the floor, but not before Constance saw her. At first, the girl chuckled, but she sounded somewhat genuine when she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- uh, I’m okay,” Sam replied, voice trembling. “Give me a minute.”

She was out of that room before hearing the girl’s reply. She couldn’t move fast enough, but her legs were trembling. She couldn’t shake that image of her mind. Her own particular ghost. The monster that she hadn’t been able to leave in Sunnyvale. Following her reflection everywhere she went.

Sam stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. She finally found refuge behind one of the big bushes on the sides of the entrance. A place where she could break down in peace. She couldn’t stop the tears, and she could hardly breathe, and she was so scared.

“Are you okay?”

The question makes Sam choke one of her sobs. Of all people that could have caught her at this moment…

“I get it,” Deena cautiously added, from a safe distance away. “I swear I had the same reaction after I met Constance.” She could barely see Sam, hiding behind the bush, but she guessed that privacy was exactly what the blonde wanted. “If Josh’s the problem though, just let me know. You aren’t allowed to, but I can totally kick his ass.” That earned her a tearful chuckle from Sam, which was a very good sign. “Just so you know though,” Deena added, “That’s usually my spot for having an emotional breakdown. Now I have to go to this other corner and there are spiders and shit in there, no privacy at all.”

This time, there was a genuine laugh coming from Sam. The tears had stopped, and she managed to find the strength to look over her shoulder, show her face to Deena and say, “Thank you.”

Deena softly shook her head, dismissing Sam’s need to thank her. “You’re doing better than most people could,” she said. Seeing Sam smile sadly, acknowledging her tear-streaked face, Deena insisted, “I mean it.”

There was a pause then. Sam opened her mouth, desperately wishing she could say something else. All she wanted was to ask Deena how she could be so kind and so cruel as if a switch was flipped inside her. But Sam feared that saying more than two words would make her cry again. Deena took that as her cue to go on with her day.

“Back to work then,” Deena said, starting to march back into the house. “Stay strong, Sunnyvale.”

Definitely done with her tears, Sam was having trouble holding back her smile. She tried to sneak another glance at the gardener, but Deena was gone, leaving behind only a pleasant warmth in Sam’s heart and a firm smile on her face.

--

Nine years of teaching had taught Sam a lot. She knew how to handle kids, that was for sure. The unruly ones, the proud ones, the ones that struggled, and the ones that shined brightly. Simon had been right when he said she had never worked with kids like Josh and Constance. Still, she was prepared to deal with Josh picking up spiders from the garden, and trying to scare her. She didn’t lose her ground even when Constance’s attitude sometimes made Sam feel like she was the teenager out of the two of them.

What she did that day wasn’t the worst Sam had to do for one of her students. Still, it was pretty awkward explaining to Deena how her younger brother had massacred the rose bushes to give the flowers to Sam.

When the two women arrived at the scene of the crime, it was a huge mess. Josh had picked a few roses for Sam and destroyed the rest. He must have been pretty aggressive to earn that small limp he had when he walked toward Sam a few minutes earlier.

The teenager fell to second place in the forefront of Sam’s mind though. She was slightly more preoccupied about the furious gardener gripping the broken stem of a rose as if it were a knife.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Deena yelled, not for the first time in the past minute, and tried to walk away.

“Hey,” Sam stopped her with a firm tone and a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll deal with him, it’s my job.”

Deena took a deep breath. She was pretty much shaking with anger still. She pursed her lips, suddenly aware of the way she had been yelling at the innocent au pair for god knows how long now. She wasn’t good at apologizing though. She slumped her shoulders and exhaled.

“It’s just… he should know better than this,” Deena said bitterly. “We are lucky to be living here. He knows he has to stay out of trouble.” She looked up into Sam’s blue eyes and the careful attention she found there nearly turned her breathless. “That was the deal,” Deena added softly, taking a moment to gulp nervously. “I made a deal with Cindy Berman years ago, when we had nothing. Josh and I could live here, and I’d pay her by working on the grounds of the manor.”

Sam nodded slowly, with a barely-there smile that let Deena know she had listened, and understood. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal. I won’t say anything if you don’t.” The two women exchanged a smile. “It’s just a few flowers-”

“It’s not just a few flowers,” Deena protested immediately.

“I know, I know,” Sam quickly said. She was tiptoeing the line between fearing Deena’s temper and being endeared by how protective she was of her plants. “They’re also a weapon, apparently.”

Deena tilted her head in confusion. “Ah,” she said when she looked down at the rose’s stem she was still holding in her hand. She couldn’t say anything else though. Sam had taken the initiative to reach out and gently pry open Deena’s fist to take the stem away. That’s when they both noticed there had been thorns involved. “Shit,” Deena cursed.

“Um,” Sam mumbled pensively as she stared at the couple of red spots on Deena’s hand. “You know, to be a teacher, you have to learn a thing or two about first aid. Do you want help?”

Deena was already shaking her head. Her wild curls shook with her movement. “No, it’s okay- fuck!” She exclaimed in pain the moment she tried to close her hand again. Now there were a few drops of blood on her palm. “Fine,” she grumbled. 

--

Deena was so upset about having someone bandaging her hand, that Sam found the whole process much easier than she had expected. It was a little bit like dealing with a kid, not that she would ever admit such a thing to the gardener. 

“So, you really like those roses, huh?” Sam asked while cleaning up the little wounds in Deena’s palm.

“They’re some of my favorites from the entire property,” Deena shrugged. “I like all these plants more than most people, that’s for sure.”

Sam nodded, picking up the bandages. “Why would he do this?” she asked. “Josh, I mean. He doesn’t seem to be the type to vandalize the gardens.”

“He isn’t. There was one bad fucking influence and…” Deena replied. Her words were hiding a lot, but her resentful tone warned the au pair against making any further questions. Instead, Deena looked up and added, “or maybe… he just really likes you, Sunnyvale.”

Sam laughed at that, and ducked her head to avoid those gorgeous brown eyes. Surprisingly, she decided to admit something right then and there in the otherwise empty kitchen of the manor while holding on to Deena’s hand. “You do know I’m not even from Sunnyvale, right?” 

“What?” Deena asked. She looked caught off guard for the first time since Sam met her.

“You guys don’t fact-check your gossip, huh?” Sam chuckled. “I was born here, in Shadyside. I moved away when I was little, after my father died, but… I guess, now I’m trying to find my home, you know?”

“Right,” Deena replied.

She blinked slowly, and her eyebrows furrowed into a small frown as she took in the information, the significance of Sam sharing it with her, and the unknown reason why the word home sounded so perfect coming from Sam’s smiling lips.

After a brief silence that felt like it stretched for hours, Deena cleared her throat. “Well, uh, thank you, for giving me a hand,” she said. The mention of her hand made both women realize that this entire time they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. They pulled away from each other quickly, but nothing could have wiped the smiles off their faces. “It’s not the worst I’ve dealt with so I better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you around… Sunnyvale.”

Sam didn’t even attempt to hold back her grin. Distantly, she wished she wasn’t blushing too much, but that was it. She turned around to watch Deena walk away from the kitchen. Then she was rewarded with the sight of Deena looking back at her once before crossing the doorway.

When she was alone again, Sam leaned her back against the counter and sighed. It was a mixture of contentment and exhaustion. She had tried her best to maintain a good impression in front of Deena, and now she could finally relax. She was starting to understand her better too, how Deena’s boldness came from a good place of being protective over her brother, and maybe even over the whole property. Sam’s exhaustion though, didn’t come from anywhere near Deena, the teens, or the house. She was only realizing how absurdly debilitating it had been to keep up a false version of herself at all times during those years in Sunnyvale. Slowly but surely, she was leaving all that behind.

Sam took a deep breath and straightened up. Then she started to walk out of the kitchen following the path Deena had walked a minute ago. She didn’t have to look back before crossing the doorway, she just kept walking. This way, she missed Ryan Torres’s presence in one corner of the kitchen. Lonesome, unknown, fumbling with the knife he still carried at all times.

--

“Josh! Constance! You guys are way too old for this kind of game!” Sam was yelling as she walked around the house. She didn’t understand how Kate hadn’t heard her yet.

She wasn’t scared. Just because they had turned off all the lights and she was only barely familiar with the house didn’t mean she should be scared. The kids wanted to improvise a game of hide and seek to avoid going to bed? Fine. Sam wasn’t scared of the dark. In the darkness she couldn’t see her reflection and whatever cursed company she would find there. If she had to drag a couple of teenagers to their beds from their ears then so be it. 

When Sam caught sight of the curtains of one room moving strangely, she hurried towards it and pulled at it, but there was nobody there. She sighed, disappointed, stressed, but not scared, not yet. She heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she distinctly heard the front door of the house open. Chills ran through Sam’s spine. It was unsettling, but not too bad, right? She would be deeply upset if she had to chase a pair of teenagers out in the middle of a storm, but it could be worse.

It could be worse… Maybe it was much worse than she imagined. That was the thought going through Sam’s mind when, very slowly, she turned back around to face the window again. At first, it looked like a blur. Then, she feared it was that same ghostly silhouette that followed her everywhere. Somehow, it was worse. Somehow, the figure moved closer and it became clear. There was a man standing on the other side of the window. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. Smile that never, under any circumstances, would have been mistaken for friendly.

Sam took a step backward, so did he. Then she took off running. Not in the direction some might have expected. She wasn’t running away to hide. She ran out of that room, taking the fireplace poker from its stand and gripping it with force as she rushed out of the house.

“I’m going to call the police!” Sam yelled while the rain poured down on her. “I’m going to call the fucking police!”

She ran toward the window where she’d seen that man. He was nowhere to be seen but, as if it was all part of a pattern, she stumbled across the worst possible scenario.

“Sam?” Josh mumbled. He was just standing there, shaking with cold, drenched from the rain… then he just crumbled down, falling to the ground, unconscious.

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, jealous!vincenzo, Jealousy

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @trynatalktou FOR BEING THE BEST BETA I COULD’VE ASKED FOR. THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO HER!

Summary: Time stops, or so it seems. Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea.

listen to this spotify playlist while reading if you want to suffer

Cha-young doesn’t dream that night; she barely sleeps 5 hours before she finds herself knocking on Vincenzo’s door at 6 am. She can’t help it, being in a room just underneath his, so close after all those years apart. Yet, she doesn’t want to show him mercy. She’s here to torment him, the way his absence had tormented her for years. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly, maybe she probably shouldn’t seek him out first, or at all. 

In reality, Cha-young knows damn well that she’s trying to find an excuse to be with him, not that she would ever admit it to anyone. 

So there she is, pounding on his door at 6 in the morning. He stands there, wearing one of his expensive pyjama sets, dark circles sitting under his eyes. She can’t quite tell if she’d woken him up or if he hadn’t slept yet.

“Did you even love me?”, she greets him. Good morning is overrated anyway. 

He sighs, letting her through. “You know that.” 

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything anymore, Vincenzo.”

She stops in her tracks, the world suddenly spinning around her. He’s standing behind her, a mere arm length away. She’s stuck in his gravitational pull, a planet orbiting around its sun. The sharp sensation of her nails digging into her palms is enough to get her moving. She sits on the couch, the same one she’d sat in just a few hours ago. 

“I did. I do.” He clears his throat, looking away. “Love you, I mean.” 

She nibbles on her lower lip, trying (and failing miserably) to ignore his use of the present tense. He loves her, still. She shakes her head. 

“Well, you seemed to be living well without me.”, her expression turns sour. Was it love to hope he’d grieved her loss as much as she had grieved his? 

Vincenzo finally settles in the chair facing her, running a hand through his hair. “There was a point where I wasn’t sure… I wasn’t sure if I would make it.” He winces. “During that time, my only salvation was knowing each day brought me closer to death.” He looks at her, gaze so intense it pierces right through her heart. 

She scoffs, “And I’m the dramatic one, huh?” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and suddenly they’re back where they first started, complicit smiles and knowing looks - them against the world. 

“Coffee?” he asks, eager to keep up the pleasant atmosphere. There’s still a lot that needs to be said, but she relaxes her shoulders, welcoming the lighter turn their conversation is taking. 

“Yes, please.” 

He busies himself with the instant coffee, that same yellow brand he’d gotten hooked up on while they worked together. “So what have you been up to, exactly?” 

“Jipuragi Law Firm just opened a new office in Busan, things are going well. It’s nice, we get to help people who need it. Probably not as exciting as being in a mafia war or whatever.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he gives her a cup of coffee and sits down next to her on the couch. There’s a safe distance between them, but there’s no point trying to shush the deafening beat of her heart. “Your father would be proud of you, Cha-young-ah.”

“You think?”, she sips on her coffee. She looks up from her mug, only to find him examining her face. His lips curl in a soft grin, and Cha-young thinks that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she kissed it. 

The loud ringtone startles her out of the daydream, and she’s not sure if she’s supposed to be annoyed or thankful. She picks up the phone. “Mmh. Okay. See you soon,” she drags out the last word, using the endearing tone she reserved for those closest to her. Mr. Kwon, her assistant, was asking her to eat breakfast with the team. 

“I have to go.”, she tells him, getting up from the couch. 

He takes her mug from her, “I didn’t realise you were here with someone.” 

She hears it loud and clear, in the way he fakes nonchalance and keeps his voice cautious. He’s asking her if she’s with someone and part of her wants to reassure him that No. There is no one else beside you. But then she thinks of the countless times where she’d cried herself to sleep, memories of them echoing into her mind and his absence carving a hole into her heart, and she can’t help herself. He had wounded her fatally and it was her turn to injure him. 

“Mmh.”, she’s not lying, technically. She’s there with someone, with people actually, just not in the way he means. 

Time stops, or so it seems.Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea. 

The empty mug drops to the ground and the spell is broken. Brought back to life, Vincenzo collects the shattered pieces of the cup, and of his heart, too. “Is he a good person?”. Unlike me, he means. 

Cha-young has to remind herself that he deserves this, that this is his fault. “Mmh”, she repeats. “He is.” 

He’s back to the coffee station, his back to her. “I’m happy for you.”, his voice is tight. 

“Thank you.”, she’s almost at the door when she stops. “Maybe...Maybe we could be friends.”

He turns around, finally facing her. The distance between them, from one side of the room to the other, feels insurmountable. 

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers. 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent. Is it possible for them to be anything else other than a tragic ending? 

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers. 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent for a while. Would it ever be possible for them to be anything other than a tragic ending? 

She finally settles on a simple, “See you around.” An open ending, then. 

She’s cursing herself out the moment she leaves the room. What was she thinking? Cha-young had just lied to Vincenzo about being on holiday with her imaginary boyfriend. No, she corrects herself, she had simply misled him and he should’ve known better. 

She could picture it already; his aggravating smirk, raised eyebrows and insufferable “Oh, is that so?”, after she’d have to inevitably come clean. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive. Vincenzo would figure out her motivations the moment she’d admit to the lie; she wanted to see him jealous, to make him think she was doing better without him, that she was over him. He would see through the façade she had worked hard to maintain. 

Flushing at the thought of the colossal humiliation she would suffer, Cha-young scolds herself. Focus. This was a war that she needed to win. Like a general preparing for battle, she squares her shoulders and summons her most loyal soldier.

“Hey, it’s me. I have a favour to ask. Can you be my boyfriend for the next two weeks?” 

<>

At 37 years old, Kwon Ji-hwan considered himself to be a resilient man with a good head on his shoulders. In the four years he has been working for Ms. Hong, carrying out tasks outside of his job description was far from rare. Those included, but were certainly not limited to: picking her up after she’d drunk too much, infiltrating a yoga class to seduce a corrupt official’s wife, impersonating a law enforcement officer and hijacking an ambulance. In Ms. Hong’s vocabulary, a “favour” almost always meant something illegal. Despite her… methods, Ji-hwan enjoyed working for her greatly. The hours might have been long but the satisfaction of winning against the odds of powerful corporations made up for it. Also, the pay was really good. Still, as used to her antics as he was, he would’ve never expected her to ask something so absurd of him. 

Sitting there, in Ms. Hong’s hotel room (which, by the way, was way nicer than the regular ones she’d gotten for her employees), Ji-hwan cannot believe what he’s hearing. 

“Let me get this right,” he says, adjusting his glasses with his index finger. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your ex, who you’re obviously still in love with even though it’s been FIVE years—” 

“Yah!” 

“—because you want to make him jealous. Did I miss anything?” 

“That pretty much covers it.”, his boss replies, not even bothering to look ashamed. He looks at her, shaking his head. “So, will you do it?” 

He sighs, “What did this guy do to you for you to be so hung up on him after all this time?” 

He was not expecting the sorrow on her face as she answered, “He was there for me during the worst times of my life. We went through hell and back for each other. And then, one day, he left without saying anything.” 

“Wait, just like that? He didn’t even break up with you?” Ji-hwan raises his eyebrows. 

“Nope”, she accentuates the ‘P’. “He simply wrote ‘Live well.’ on a napkin and I never heard of him again. Until now.”

He scratches the top of his head, “What a fucking jerk.” She laughs, it’s rare to hear Ji-hwan swear. Finally, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’m in.”

“Yes, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She’s doing her little victory dance now, shaking her hips in the least graceful way possible. Like every time his boss convinces him to blur the line of what is morally acceptable, Ji-hwan is regretting this already.

“If I said no, you would have threatened to fire me anyway.” 

“You know it.”

[gumnut-logic]

Interview with a Fic Writer Meme

Thank you to @tsarinatorment  for the tag ::hugs you:: Sorry for the delay in reply.

1. Your favourite fic that you’ve written (or the one you want to give a shout out to)

We’ll Be Home For Christmas, mainly because of how much fun I had writing it and the new friend I found and the Kermadecs are an amazing place and that fic changed how I write Thunderbirds fic forever because I now know Tracy Island’s place in the world and its ecosystem and yeah, I am such a geek.

Also, VT Green, cos smart!Virg :D

2. Your favourite fic title that you’ve come up with

No idea. But because I’m old and live in a popular culture that peeps twenty years younger than me probably don’t, you might want to check out the chapter titles of We’ll Be Home For Christmas and the theme song to Gilligan’s Island. In my total cluelessness, I didn’t realise how unobvious they were to peeps who aren’t as ancient as I am and didn’t grow up with sixties TV on loop through the eighties.

3. How do you get inspiration to write?

You name it, it hits me. I currently have several fics, including Wire, currently inspired by the fact I park my car in front of a farm every morning when dropping off my daughter to school. If I’m feeling down, Virg will either be whumped or end up in some hilarious situation (it’s weird, I’ve written some of my funniest stuff while feeling my worst). Sometimes I will be desperate to reach out to the natural world and can’t – that’s when Virg ends up on some beach and gets all arty-farty so I can reach out through him.

Often an initial scene will spark something bigger and I’ll be writing for weeks, desperately trying to keep a plotline straight and find an ending.

But my best stories happen from a solid idea of something that I don’t think has been done in the fandom before and is something I would like to explore – Sotto Voce, VT Green, We’ll Be Home For Christmas (which was a prompt but I actually developed and planned it before writing), Callisto, Gentle Rain – these have coherence, and while they may have wobbled crazily on their path, they mostly had a plan.

4. Your favourite genre/subgenre of fic to write?

I’m a whump girl, but I love a good plotline to go along with it. This often requires brain power, not something I always have. I also like a challenge and to try new things, which is why we have a romance, a boat trip and a space voyage in my stash.

5. Do you have other hobbies?

I have far, far too many hobbies. I rotate through them and obsess at times – anything in the art spectrum from traditional through to graphic design and a multitude of crafts, geology, botany, ecology, marine life, genealogy…lots of ology in the science spectrum, but the closer you get to the physics end, the less I understand due to my brain’s inability to process certain concepts. Oh and a variety of history, both local, and world-wide human, and definitely palaeontology. But yeah, lots of lovely knowledge and things to play with :D

6. A fun fact about you that a lot of people may not know

I’m a synesthete.

7. Pick one character to self project onto

Sorry Virgil :D

8. Favourite genre of music

Whatever my brain needs at the time, usually in concert with whatever I am doing. Lots of film soundtracks through to popular music. Very picky and suck at finding new stuff to listen to. Will listen on loop until both brain and track is fried.

9. Your favourite singer/band

I rarely know the singer or the band. Though Nick and Ben Foster are pretty cool :D

10. How have your experience in fandom been?

I have been properly active in about three fandoms over the years, though I have read in many more and even written in a few others. One was a big one, the other two were small.

The big one was good with the occasional odd encounter, but I kept to my little corner. The first small one was very small and was going very well until I had a falling out with another fan. Being a small fandom, it was very difficult for everyone involved. I also, at the time, was at a very hard spot in my life and that, in part, led to my withdrawal from fandom (though I eventually had kids so that really yanked me out of everything). Ten years later I found Thunderbirds and everything has been absolutely lovely. If I wasn’t enjoying myself, there wouldn’t be 200 fics to show for it :D (yes, I’m going to repeat that number repeatedly cos I’m quite happy I’ve been so productive :D)

Thunderfam rocks! :D

I’m tagging @onereyofstarlight @scribbles97 @godsliltippy @vegetacide

[inmyarmswrappedin]

i am catching up on some of your posts from yesterday and i wanted to add that i don’t think that the remakes have exactly tarnished og skam, but maybe more like watered it down in some viewers’ eyes? a lot of people saw og skam as unique in its format and way of portraying teens along with important topics. but after three years of the same stories being repeated across the remakes, it seems like some people have just gotten tired of those same stories and that then gets translated into people forgetting that they were actually new and unique when just og skam was airing. i don’t know if that makes sense? the stories got wrung dry, honestly. which is why i so wish that the remakes had just used the skam format and told their own stories, so that the universe could expand in terms of who is being represented and also so that og skam could just stand on its own once again.

Hi anon! 🍒 This is an interesting ask (btw thanks for the thoughtful asks you guys have been sending me all this time! I genuinely enjoy not just reading your asks, but giving them a platform and discussing them). I feel you in some aspects, but maybe not others.

I agree that the remakes have watered Skam down for some viewers, but I wouldn't say they have watered down the stories per se. I think it's more, like, for some people Skam is simply a show that drops in clips during the week with yellow timestamps and a lead character. That is all that Skam is and nothing else. But if you've been reading my tumblr long enough, you might've caught discussions about how Skam made use of the illusion of "realism" to actually show idealism and hope. However, for some viewers, Wtfock is just as realistic as Skam even when it is continually cruel and disdainful towards its characters. This is a way in which (certain) remakes have watered down Skam, because Skam had a very specific mission statement and feel and intention, that people don't think it's an essential part of Skam that should be kept throughout the versions. And this also goes for aspects like showing a character's vulnerability, for instance. (@lightsandlostbells explained how that was lost in some remakes because they cast actors who, simply put, were too old and self-aware to convey teenage vulnerability anymore.)

I also feel like Skam was really good at finding very specific and personal moments that hadn't really been shown on mainstream TV before, like Isak taking that gay quiz for instance. That was the first time I saw a gay character do that on a piece of media, and yet soooo many people resonated with it! It's small stuff like Noora losing her shit over the fish cakes, which was such a poignant portrayal of controlling one's intake of food not to lose weight (as EDs are often portrayed on TV), but to have control over something when your life is unraveling. I feel like this kind of scenes came about as a result of the extensive research NRK did before sitting down to write the show, like I genuinely feel they listened to the people they interviewed and sought to be accurate and respectful of their experiences. (However limited by their own views as white feminists/white moderates they were.) The remakes, for the most part, have lost these small moments, because they're more focused on dropping as many clips as possible to keep tags alive, more focused on having lots of things going on, maybe to make up for shorter, less intimate clips.

This is how I feel the remakes have watered down Skam (and tbf, the extent to which the remakes have watered down Skam varies as far as I'm concerned, like I don't place Druck and eskam and Austin with Wtfock, France or Italia, and I don't think anyone will be surprised there). Because I think if the remakes had focused on truth over spectacle, I genuinely feel people wouldn't be as tired nor the stories as wrung dry. I feel like they focused more on telling the story than telling the emotional truth behind the story.

At any rate, I feel like if a story is adapted well, it can be adapted over and over and over. Like, how many versions of Romeo and Juliet are out there? Or Pride and Prejudice? But not every version of these stories is equal, which I also feel was something the wider Skams fandom had issues with facing for a while. Like, it was kind of verboten to like one remake more than another, and even more so to like a remake better than Skam. (And for as much as this ask is all about how the remakes watered Skam down... Here's the thing: Some people like those remakes better anyway. And that's fine!)

You could say, "well, people don't just mainline 8 versions of P&P in a single year, maybe those stories would be wrung dry if people did." And like, while I do think all the remakes try to capture international fandom to a bigger or lesser extent, or at least enjoy the international attention... I also don't think any team is expecting people to watch all 8 versions lol. I don't think all that many people involved with a Skam (whether crew or cast) has watched all 8 versions with all of its seasons. So like, that's on us for feeling like we have to watch everything or we're somehow being unfair to a remake or another. And it certainly doesn't help when stans of a particular remake will be like, "well, you're just looking for reasons to dislike this remake, Sander forgave Robbe so idk why you're still talking about it!!" as if I had some sort of vendetta against the Belgians or some shit.

I do miss Skam (or when Skam was at its best rather, like I don't miss Noora's season lmao, though it had its small moments like I've mentioned), but I also feel like... Maybe the people who enjoy the "watered down" remakes never really enjoyed Skam for all that it was, but only certain elements of it. And like, I can certainly relate to that!! Because I definitely enjoyed certain elements of Skam while not liking some other aspects and liking how the remakes did them more (like, for instance, I MUCH prefer how eskam did Nora/Alejandro over Noorhelm and idc that it's "watered down" Skam and that we don't see as many small moments with Nora G as we did with Noora). And I get that Skam stans (or, like, evak stans, because I truly only see this sentiment about wishing that Skam hadn't been wrung dry from evak stans, sorry, I've never seen it from Noorhelm or Sana stans, and Mohnstad stans seem to be angrier that none of the remake P-Chrises capture Herman's raw sexuality (LMAOOOOOO) than anything else) got to have a fandom without comparisons to other evaks or without complaints that evak was too white, cis and male. Honestly, when people draw certain comparisons between Isak and a remake Isak, I too want to scream. But otoh, without the remakes, I wouldn't have David (or Shay, Jo, Cris, Joana, Eva V, Nora G, Amira N, Lucas R, and many others) so you know... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[wandasallerdyce]

Vacation - Clint Barton x M! Avenger! Reader

Pairing: Clint Barton x M!Reader

Fandom: Avengers Assemble (tv show; Marvel)

Plot: Clints plan may or may not go as accordingly

Requested: yes/no

Warning(s): mention of smut, slight cursing

Notes: oH MY GOD THIS SHOW IS AMAZING AND SO UNDERATED BUT IT REALLY MADE ME SIMP FOR THE CHARACTERS LIKE HOLY FUCK. ANYWAYS I HOPE YALL ENJOY. ALSO, THIS WASNT IN MY PLANS BUT SINCE ITS MY BIRTHDAY WEEKEND I WANTED TO REWARD YALL

(GIF is not mine)

When you had asked Clint to go on vacation with you, this is not what you had in mind. Yes, you both planned to go on a trip to the Bora Bora Islands, but you guys did not plan on the rest of the team to join you guys. Clint was mad when he found out the team would be joining you guys but you were able to calm him down before he yelled at the team. Both of you were used to always being alone on vacations, especially since you guys would go at it like rabbits all over the hotel room and there was no one to interrupt you guys.

But now, you guys had to remain in control of both of your guys’ lust. It was easy for you, but Clint on the other hand was a whole different case. It took time for him to get used to it, but eventually he got around to it. Anyways, you and the team decided to go for a swim. It wasn’t everyday you got a break. Being an Avenger was hard work. You were a skilled combatant, great at flexibility and a master of different weapons. When you guys got to the beach, Steve, Tony and Sam instantly jumped into the water.

Meanwhile, you, Clint, Natasha and Scott started a volleyball game. You and Clint versus the two redheads. Hulk and Thor where on referee and cheerleading duty. “Oh come on Barton! No fair!” Scott exclaimed as he failed to hit the ball since Clint would always make it unreachable for him. Clint simply just laughed at him. “Calm down Hawkeye, let the man hit it.” You said while trying to hold in your laughter. You couldn’t lie, it was pretty funny to watch.

You turned around and looked at Natasha who was also trying to hold in a laugh as Scott fell on the sand. “Don’t give up, Man of Ants! I believe in you!” Exclaimed Thor, trying his best to cheer on Scott. This kept going on until eventually Nat got annoyed. “Alright boys, if you guys are done, me and (y/n) would actually like to play.” Natasha said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. Eventually, both of the teams ended up in a tie. The sun was going down, so you and Clint decided to have some alone time and take a walk.

Clint wondered how he got so lucky. When you guys met, both of you actually hated each other. You despised his cocky attitude and he hated that you were so nice and forgiving since he didn’t believe that was who you truly were. When you guys were forced to team up to take down Red Skull, you confided in him and told him why you really joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, which made him open up to you about the circus. That was the first step in your guys’ relationship. When you guys confessed your feelings for each other, it was actually in a end of the world situation.

The fight against Thanos was starting to overwhelm all of you. You had various cuts on your body and cheek and a few tears in your suit. Clint stayed near you, making sure you were safe from the Titan’s wrath. You started to run out of ammo so you decided to just take down Thanos with your flexibility and skills all alone. As you started to reach him, he was able to grab a hold of you and started to choke you. You felt your air starting to run out and scratched at his arm with no use.

Next thing you know, your dropped onto the floor of the moon as Clint starts throwing punches at the Mad Titan. Thanos simply laughed and grabbed both of you, throwing you guys towards the watchers tower. You landed on Clint and just stayed there. Then, Clint starts talking to you. “Listen, (y/n), I’m being serious about this okay? This isn’t a game. I just wanted to tell you, that in case we don’t make it, um… ahhh… fuck it. I’m in love with you, (y/n) (l/n).” He told you, looking anywhere but your eyes. You simply responded by kissing him, finally hearing the words from him you wanted to hear for so long. He was surprised, but returned the kiss with more force. Eventually, you guys were able to bring down Thanos with the help of the Guardians of The Galaxy.

That brings you guys to the present. 4 years into your relationship, and things have only gotten better. Both of you share a room in the tower and are always together. Wherever you are, Clint is most definitely there with you also. Clint snapped out of his mind and stopped suddenly. You walked for a few more seconds until you realized he wasn’t following you. “Clint, honey, are you okay?” You asked with concern in your voice. Oh, how Clint loved the nicknames you gave him. You were the only one who was allowed to give him nicknames.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about the old times. Like when we met and stuff.” He said with a smile on his face. You smiled back and he swore he melted faster than ice cream. Your smile always radiated a certain type of happy. You turned to look at the sun setting and he immediately started sweating. He put his hand in his pocket, making sure the box was safe. He wanted to propose to you for a while, but he wasn’t sure if you would agree or not. ‘It’s now or never Barton, don’t be a chicken.’ He repeated in his head.

“Look Clint! The stars are about to show!” You exclaimed with such enthusiasm. You turned around and gasped, seeing as Clint was on one knee in the sand. “Listen, (y/n). I’m not good at speeches like Steve, but I’m going to try my best here. Basically, to put it short, I’m in love with you. I always have been. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You accepted me for who I was, even though you knew I was in the circus of crime. You didn’t judge me on my past, but on who I was now. I know I mess up sometimes, but your always there for me and help me back up. So, what do you say (y/n)? Want to become Mr. Barton with me? It’s totally okay if you say no I mean, I won’t be mad if y-“ You cut off his rambling by culling his cheeks.

“Clinton Francis Barton, how could I say no to you?” You said and leaned down to kiss him, your fingers entangling in his blonde hair. He relaxed into the kiss and synced both of your lips. Eventually both of you pulled back and he put the silver ring on your finger. It was simple, yet to you it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “I was on a budget. Sorry I couldn’t get you a ring you deserve.” Clint said sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. You simply smiled and said, “Anything you give me is beautiful Clint.”

He stood up and dusted himself off and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and walked both of you towards the rest of the team. “When we have our first kid, I’m definitely teaching them how to shoot an arrow.” Clint said confidently. You simply chuckled. “Careful Clint, or they’ll end up shooting you in the leg.” You said while trying to hold in your laughter. Clint instantly had a shock look to his face. “Yknow what? Maybe I won’t teach them how to shoot after all.” He said looking spooked. You simply just laughed while walking back.

You ended up getting a text from Natasha telling you guys they were in Stark’s room. When you guys walked in, it was utter chaos. They decided to have a fun idea to play Uno. Right now, Nat was in the lead with two cards left followed up my Sam with three cards. Steve was still trying to figure out how to play and Thor and Tony ended up getting ganged up on with +4’s. Hulk meanwhile was watching the tv paying no attention to the others. You both decided to play the notice game and cuddled up to each other on a chair. You kept guessing who would be the first to notice the ring. Eventually, as always, it was Tony who noticed.

“Where did that ring come from?!”

I actually had lots of fun writing this even tho it’s 1:30am lolol. Anyways I hoped y’all enjoyed and peace out. Love ya guys!!!

[dt-canim]

Oh boy, this is gonna be a long one haha. This is a bit of an unusual post, but Tumblr, I need some assistance.

Ok so I've always have known about autism and stuff like it but it wasn't until about a year ago that I started looking into neurodivergency more. If you're wondering, it was brought about by my favorite Ducktales episode (season 3 episode 6: Astro Boyd) airing for the first time and I saw people talking about its autistic/neurodivergent themes.

Since then, I’ve been picking up some of my tendencies and it got me wondering. I never remember getting tested for this stuff so this is just based on my experiences and research. So for educational purposes, I'm gonna put some of the traits I do and see if any neurodivergent ppl relate lol

The first thing I want to touch upon is something plenty of us are probably familiar with: stimming. My experiences include;

Excitedly hitting a book I'm reading because of a cool call back, a really funny joke, or simply something badass happening (this just happened to me other day lol)

Flailing my arms and/or legs when something similar (to the point above) happens in a movie or tv show I enjoy

“Vibing” with my best friend includes: waving my arms and head around, bobbing up and down like I am an idle video game character, and/or just generally moving in place for a solid minute or two

The next thing I will mention: Hyperfixations

If you have seen my Tumblr, profile, or simply paid attention to the beginning of this post, you may not be surprised that I hyperfixate with my favorite show, possibly ever, Ducktales. I got emotional last year when I heard it was ending and legitimately cried at the end of the last episode. I mean watching those final credits still makes my heart hurt. (And I know I'm terrible at posting but I will never truly leave the Dt fandom)

Sometimes it happens rather quickly. For instance, I went to the mall with my friend last Saturday and impulsively bought a book called The Extraordinaries. I finished it in 3 days and I swear if I don't go back to that Barnes & Noble and get my hands on the sequel soon I will do crimes.

When I find things to hyperfixate about it is all I want to talk about with people for a while. But then I feel bad when they don't share my interests because I don't just want people to listen to me babble my head off all the time about stuff they don't care about.

Something I found out recently, losing track of time apparently can be a neurodivergent trait.

So yeah I've done this a lot. Overall, I just have terrible time management skills. I'm not great at putting things down on a timeline and it makes me anxious when I do so.

Also, since going into homeschooling about 5 years ago, I constantly lose track of time. Most of the time, I only know what day and time it is because I have a calendar next to my bed and a phone around me at all times. (off-topic but it annoys me that I used the word time so often here)

Prioritizing tasks, knowing how to start things, and just overall getting shiz done..???

I have. So many. Sketches I want to finish. But I keep going to a new one cause woop I just got a new idea must do it now right?! (Seriously though, I'm sorry that I haven't been posting much art lately)

I have a comic I want to start developing but I have no idea how on earth I should do that. And sometimes things seem obvious, like get the outlines for your story, get main plot points down, PUT YOUR DAM IDEAS YOU HAVE IN YOUR HEAD DOWN SOMEWHERE ANYWHERE. But nooo I'll just sit here and keep starting new sketches of my main characters. That'll get you a product you'll be happy with.

Sometimes I will just sit there thinking ok I'm sitting here but I have work I need to get done and I am running out of time to do it and it is stressing me out right now but I can't move I can't do it but I need to because it needs to get done and I am running out of time but it is stressful. Rinse and repeat for at least a half-hour, maybe take a nap lol.

This point is the fact that even though I never got tested I know I have maladaptive daydreaming which has a link to Adhd and neurodivergency in general.

For those who don't know what that is, I will try to explain. Yes, it is daydreaming but it's more than that. (you know what? I'm just gonna put the traits I found off of a site and add my feelings toward it lol)

extremely vivid daydreams with their own characters, settings, plots, and other detailed, story-like features

daydreams triggered by real-life events (mostly media I consume in my case)

difficulty completing everyday tasks (kinda like the stress-sitting I mentioned earlier just with daydreaming mixed in)

difficulty sleeping at night (at the time of making this point is it currently 3 am, though I am aware I'm up rn because of this post, it is usually because of the daydreaming)

an overwhelming desire to continue daydreaming (ok that's just...accurate)

performing repetitive movements while daydreaming (typically I walk around my house like a ping pong ball)

making facial expressions while daydreaming (idk I usually mouth what my character are saying or replicate the face their making)

whispering and talking while daydreaming (^^)

daydreaming for lengthy periods

The last thing I will mention for now is my family cause many sources say that this stuff is commonly genetic soooooooo

My mother has been diagnosed with dyslexia since she was a kid.

We've suspected that my brother has Adhd. To put it in perspective I will paraphrase something that his 2nd-grade teacher once said. “He moves around so much I want to just strap him to a chair sometimes but I am afraid to do it cause I think he'll explode”

I have more I could potentially talk about but I don't want to make this too long. I just want to know if anyone relates to this. So here take this mess of me hahahaaaaaaaa

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eighteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

A Meeting with Mr. Edgar

By the time the firefighters had shown up, Black Noir had already left and taken all the security tapes with him. There could be no evidence of his weakness, nor of his betrayal.

Because that was what he’d done: he’d betrayed Vought and helped a woman who obviously meant to harm this institution. Retiring to his living quarters he sat on the edge of his bed and awaited a call from the man in charge.

“My office, tomorrow at ten o’clock,” the man spoke concisely and promptly hung up.

The darkly clothed man rose from the bed, and slowly made his way to the bathroom. The damage to his suit was noticeable: the charred exterior and the handprint seared into his chest plate were the scars left from the fight.

And he felt pain. It stemmed deep in his chest below that handprint and developed into a tightness he could not relieve. This had been her secret. The fatigue in her shoulders, her constant wariness: she was a spy.

When she’d unleashed the blast, he should’ve gotten up and fought back. After all this time, he didn’t even register pain. He was unstoppable. And yet, once he’d realized it was her, he didn’t want to.

He removed his suit and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water slide over his tight muscles. He placed a hand against the wall, and let it run down his back, hitting his shoulders almost violently. Conflicted, he was torn in two by his thoughts. On one hand, the loyalty for the company who had made him insisted he uncover her identity, find her, and terminate her along with her plan. On the other hand, a part him wanted to understand her motives, what had pushed her to such an act. Why had she lied to him?

He leaned his forehead against the wall. She was his friend, and she’d lied. If there was one thing he’d learned from the books he read and the movies he watched, it was that friends were supposed to trust each other. They didn’t lie.

This explained her guarded attitude during their first encounters. It explained her having a dagger in her evening dress. Why did she let him get close? She could have sent him away that first time they met. He’d taken care of her ex-boyfriend, but she didn’t owe him anything. Still, she’d allowed him in, and they’d grown comfortable with each other. They were friends.

And now he knew her secret.

.

The morning after, at the established time, Noir headed up to Mr. Edgar’s office. He sat in the waiting room, and it was always a sight to see. This dark, silent man sitting on a pristine white sofa. He felt out of place amid the light pastel colors that made up the office’s interior.

He was soon escorted inside, where he bowed his head respectfully and took a seat in front of the man pulling all the strings.

The man peered at Noir through his glasses, “How are you, Noir?”

He answered with a nod and a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, let’s get straight to the point then,” he clasped his hands together. “Last night, Vought was attacked by a terrorist who, it turns out, has powers,” the man paused and licked his lips before proceeding. “When I was made aware of the hacking I sent you, one of the most powerful and ruthless beings on Earth, to stop her.” His tone was calm and detached but held an underlying fury to it. “The suit you were wearing was the one that needs its camera repaired,” he pointed out, “And the recordings have been stolen. So, tell me why, pray tell, didn’t you stop her?”

Black Noir reached out to a blank piece of paper on the large, mahogany desk. Mr. Edgar pushed an expensive looking pen his way. Taking it into hand, Black Noir should’ve told him everything. Her name, their meetings... Instead, he wrote:

She was stronger than expected. I will find her

Mr. Edgar skimmed the page looking down through his glasses.

“Yes, you will find her,” he repeated. Noir knew he meant it as an order. “And you will bring her to Vought. Does she have the USB?”

It was destroyed by the blast, sir

Mr. Edgar watched the subject in front of him. “We think we know who the terrorist is. Her name is Marianna Stacker.”

Black Noir’s mind immediately recalled the woman’s blonde friend calling out to her when she’d burned the rude man outside of the club. Marianna.

“She is believed to be extremely dangerous. She redirects energy and is a highly destructive force. Uncontrollable, unpredictable.”

Noir nodded as he absorbed any and all information Mr. Edgar would share with him. He never asked questions, only listened, and carried out orders.

“She’s a serious threat. Looking at our scientist’s projections, she might be strong enough to eliminate you and Homelander,” he looked down at the impressive report they’d left for him.

Instructions, sir

“You will find her and incapacitate her while her guard is down,” he placed a syringe full of light blue liquid on the desk. “You will then take her to compound 15, in Montana. It is the only place where we can hold her. I’ll have a company plane take you there. This must be handled swiftly and discreetly.” Mr. Edgar paused, “Do you understand?”

Yes, sir

“Good,” the man smiled pleasantly, “Then you are dismissed. You will keep me updated.”

As Black Noir stood, he nodded and crossed the room towards the door where he was stopped.

“And son,” Mr. Edgar spoke, “Do not fail me.”

The superhero nodded once more and left the premises with the potent sedative concealed in his suit. And as he left, he realized just how confused he truly was as to where he stood.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan...

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr​

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax​ for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

A/N: This is a fic I started 10-years ago for another fandom. I never finished it, but I loved the concept. I have an idea of what I want to do with it - hopefully, I’ll finish it this time around.

Part i - Train Wreck 

It had taken forever to get the subwoofer out of the Challenger's trunk without damaging the cords. However, it was done with such skill and precision, it appeared a surgeon had removed it. The tricky part had been hooking the stereo back up to the factory-installed speakers after the subwoofer had been removed, and making everything look nice and neat, so the car’s owner wouldn’t be aware.

It had taken longer than usual, but it was well worth it. Whoever installed this particular unit, did a really good job. They were so meticulous with their installation, right down to the intricate wiring system – not that straight out the box shit that comes with aftermarket speaker setups. It had proven to be a tedious job, but not impossible.

No matter how daunting the task of removing the subwoofer had been, it wasn’t half as difficult as hooking it up to the old iPod without the benefit of a stereo. It had been a painstakingly slow process. One wrong splice of the cord and the mp4 player would short out. But tenacity always paid off. The result looked raggedy, with cords kept in place with electrical tape, the iPod balanced on its side, held in place between two books, and a huge metal subwoofer vibrating next to it. It was ugly, but it worked.

The volume on the iPod was cranked up to the highest level. It was so loud that the walls shook with each kick of the bass drum. There was no reason to ever use a speaker that powerful in a room this size, but the song demanded it. All good music demanded to be blasted at the highest of decibels; this song in particular. It had been playing on repeat for the past hour. One song. One constant beat. One melody, and one voice screeching over that amazing guitar riff. Listening to it on anything lower than the max was the true definition of insanity.

The people staying in the room next door disagreed because they had already done everything to get her to turn it down. They had yelled, banged on the walls, kicked her door, and even called the manager. It didn't matter. The fucking neighbors could eat a dick. Even if they called the National Guard the volume wasn’t changing. This song wasn't "noise", it was destined to be a fucking classic – in her room, if nowhere else. If it was possible to play the song any louder, she would have.

These fuckstick neighbors. They were the only ones that didn't understand how places like this worked. The rule was, there were no rules – that was the beauty of it. That's why this particular room was the best choice. It was on the second floor, around the back facing the alley instead of the highway. There was nothing else on this side of the building except the five rooms on this level, garbage dumpsters, the on ramp, and a peeling billboard. What in the hell were they expecting? If one picked a shit motel, with a shit room that offered no view, why would they think it would be quiet?

Anyone could stay in a two or three-star hotel. But, a bed-bug infested No Tell-Motel? People stayed here because they wanted to get away with whatever dirt they were trying to do. That's why these places charge by the hour and not by the night. Most people wouldn't even want to stay for the entire night. Dirt didn't take that much time to commit. For the most part, the only people who stayed in places like this only needed the space for about 20 minutes…a few hours tops, if they had a lot of stamina. It was don't ask, don't tell…don't listen, don't knock. These assholes should know that. 

Annoying ass neighbors aside, the room was comfortable. The thick smell of stale cigarette smoke clung to the air was reminiscent of home. The smoky air coupled with a heavy bassline made it feel like a rock video. The only problem with the room was that it was hotter than a crack whore's crotch.

The air-conditioning unit in the sole window did little more than blow the smoke rings further around the room. It provided a nice buzzing sound that served as background noise and as a reverb for the music. There was also a burning smell that came from the window-unit being cranked up to full blast. It had been a little hard to get used to, at first, but two packs of cigarettes later, it was no longer noticeable.

The roaches sure didn't seem to appreciate the extra heat in the room. They constantly ran in and out of the vents of the air-conditioner like they were trying to find a cooler climate. Or maybe they were just hungry. The box of half-eaten pizza on the dinette table not only provided a suitable temporary home but also a hardy meal. They gathered there, grabbing their lunchtime snacks before running off to other wall cracks to share in a meal with their friends and family.

Most people would have found the place a disgusting, germ-infested, death trap. But, Torren wasn't most people. She didn't seem to notice anything in particular about her living conditions. She had other things to focus on. She had already paid for this week, and next, so what did she care? The place had all of the essentials; electricity, toilet, running water, a bed, and a TV.

Granted, the electricity was spotty, to the point that she couldn't have her flatiron and blow dryer plugged in at the same time. The toilet was so soiled that it still hadn't been determined if there were rust stains in it, or if it just had never been cleaned…ever. The water ran brown when it rained and a cloudy gray the rest of the time. It didn't get hot either, but it did get tepid if she let it run for 10 minutes, but not hot. Not hot enough to sanitize your hands, or to take a bath in.

But, it was already hot in the room, so a cold shower wasn't so bad. Besides, the tub was indescribable. If someone told her that a family of six had been murdered, and dismembered in that tub, she wouldn't be surprised. It just had that horror movie slaughter look, and the stains to prove it.

The bed was hard and lumpy and judging from the DNA left behind from past guests and holes in the sheets, they probably hadn't ever been changed. The TV was small, but at least it was in color. Hell, the room even came with its own pets, and it was only $50 for the week! There truly wasn't anything to complain about.

Torren Sykes sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by ripped out, stolen magazine pages and color copies of photos she’d downloaded and printed at the library. She rocked her head and shoulders in a slow sway to the beat of the song playing. Haphazardly she flipped through the pages until she found a suitable picture and smiled. Picking up the scissors, she licked her lips slowly and ferried her brow, as she started the task of cutting it out.

"Goddammit!" She yelled before slamming the paper down on the bed. Stomping angrily toward the door, she pulled it open and narrowed her eyes at the man standing there. "I swear, if you knock on this door again, I'm gonna slit your fucking throat," she cringed, narrowing her eyes and pointing the shears at the man's neck.

The motel manager was taken by surprise at the half-naked woman holding shears to his neck. Standing before him was a beautiful brunette, with dark features. She had a creamy, light coffee-colored complexion – these days it was hard to judge a person’s ethnic makeup, but if he had to venture a guess, he’d think she was bi-racial. She had perfectly shaped large, almond, brown eyes that gave off nothing but a vacant stare, and a heart-shaped face. The soft dimple in her chin, and the one just at the curve of her mouth, gave her an almost angelic look. She was considerably shorter than him, about 5'5", and well built.

She wouldn't have been considered thin; she was far too curvy for that – the term slim thick instantly sprang to mind. She had thick thighs, extremely pronounced hips, and presumably a large ass. Yet, her waist was small, and her stomach flat, and big breasts. Not too big, where one would sprain their thumb trying to hold them, but they were big enough to keep any man occupied.

The manager wondered if she had some work done to get a body like that. It wasn’t uncommon for women around her to have a little nip, tuck, and a whole lot added to try to look like a vid-hoe, these days.

She was wearing the smallest pair of underwear he'd ever seen. And what was the purpose of wearing a cut off top that stopped just under her nipples? She might as well not be wearing a shirt at all. He could see the curve of the lower half of her breasts because the shirt failed to cover the lower half of her chest. If she raised her arm any higher he would have gotten a full-on nip-slip.

She glistened with a fine sheen of sweat all over her body; her long hair clung to her cheeks and neck, with it. It was almost like her hair was beating as quickly as her pulse was. He could feel the rush of heat come out of the room, as soon as she opened the door. It was like she had just opened the door to an oven. She was hot and sweaty, yet she still wore long tube socks that came up to her knees.

If she hadn't been assaulting him with a deadly weapon, it would have looked like something he’d recently seen on Porn Hub.

He had been so taken aback that he couldn't think of anything to say to her. Instead, he took a step backward and watched as she slammed the door. The entire encounter took about 5 seconds. Long enough for her to open the door, threaten him, and slam it again in his face. He wasn't sure what he was more surprised by, how she answered the door almost naked, the temperature of her room, the level of her music, the anger in her voice, or the scissors that had been pointed just inches below his throat. The whole scene was just wrong and it scared him.

In the 20 seconds that he continued to stand in front of the closed room door, he thought about what scared him the most. It was the look in her eyes. Those beautiful almond-shaped eyes were intense. They were concentrated. They had absently stared right through him. Something about those eyes wasn't right. Had she even seen him? He would never admit it, but he hoped like hell that she hadn't. He hoped that she didn't remember what he looked like. He didn't want any trouble, and he could tell that she definitely was.

Stomping her way back to her bed, Torren resumed her aforementioned position, picked up the copied photo, and started to sway to the music again. She smiled a little taking a second to run her fingers over the image on the page before she resumed cutting. Scraps of paper fell to the bed and the floor, some even stuck to her sweaty legs.

She clutched the cut-out to her chest, before falling back on the bed. Settling on her back, she held the picture up to the light. With tenderness, she brought the piece of paper down to her lips. She kissed it...him, with such passion, before sticking her tongue out of her mouth, and letting it rest on the computer paper - where his lips were, her wet tongue instantly wetting the page and smearing the ink. Planting her feet on the bed, she lifted her waist from the mattress and started to thrust upward with the beat of the song.

Seductively, she flipped over on all fours, laying the picture down on the pillows. She whipped her hair around her head, before letting it hang over her shoulder. She scooped her neck down and began kissing the picture again. As she did, she started to grind her hips hard against the balled up blankets.

She let one hand travel down her torso, toward her panties and smirked at the picture as she did. She braced herself on her left knee and elbow, before lifting her right leg out, then up. Roughly, she took her fingers and plunged them deep inside of herself. She bit her bottom lip, hard; she could taste the coppery blood on her tongue, and when she leaned down to kiss the picture again, she managed to get a nice bloody lip print on it. She twirled her hips and moaned loudly as she pleasured herself. Her eyes never left the picture. She removed her fingers, only to trace the dampness on the image before placing them in her mouth. Her taste was incredible. It always turned her on.

She had to have him. She needed him.

She flipped over on the bed, this time grabbing a magazine cover she had torn off from one of the stacks she found in the library. This one had him on the cover.

With a sense of urgency, she smoothed the waxy page down her body, before stuffing the picture along with her hand inside her panties. She closed her eyes. She felt his tongue running over her; she felt his fingers inside of her. The pillow next to her, the one covered in taped photos of him was now on top of her to simulate his body on hers, as her hand and the magazine continued to work. She couldn't get enough of him. She would never get enough of him.

In the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm, that happened to coincide with the best guitar solo ever created, blasting from the speaker, she managed to yell one word, "IVAR!" Then she flopped back on the bed in hysterical laughter.

She straightened out the magazine cover and picked up her bloody cut-out from the pillow.

Wordlessly, she stuck them both to the wall with her juices; amongst the 50 other printouts of him that hung just over her headboard. After giving him another kiss, she finally turned down the volume on her makeshift stereo, picked up a piece of pizza from the box, shook it off, then headed into the bathroom for a cold shower.

Part ii

Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from tags:

Tags: @idea-garden @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​

[joeys-piano]

Joey’s Writing Process - Questionnaire

Was inspired by an authortube questionnaire tag thingy from YouTube and wanted to answer those questions and post them here~

You could say I was tagged by Kelley Tai from the authortube community because I decided to do this after hearing her responses to these questions ^^

What genres do you write?

Being someone who doesn’t write for a specific genre in mind, I dabble in everything and anything -- depending on the concept in my mind. But during the past few months, I can summarize that most of my works would be considered contemporary. Whether it’s young adult, romance, or a few character studies I was interested in. The kinds of genres I typically play with are dependent on the fandom I’m writing for.

  What setting gets you the most productive?

I am the most productive when I’m writing in a quiet, comfortable spot. Preferably, alone because I talk while I’m writing. So because of that, I mostly write in my bedroom or private living space -- it lets me jabber on and on and read as loudly to my heart’s content.

As well, as long as I have a sturdy structure to lean my back against and a soft blanket or pillow to drape over my lap, that is my ideal writing setup as I kickback on my laptop. Somewhere during these past two semesters, I’ve conditioned myself to be my most creative when I’m on my portable laptop because my brain has associated it with “fun” and “chill time” while my workhorse, gaming laptop has been associated with “academic” and “not-so-fun stuff.”

If you have multiple story ideas, how do you go about picking which one to start on first?

The ideal response would me saying: “I’m picking the work that has the most potential, is the most fleshed out, follows the current reading trends, etc…”

But in all honesty, there’s only two criteria I use when narrowing down multiple projects: 1) how am I feeling? and 2) which one will I make time for? I know myself well enough that when I’m very interested in an idea, I will carve out time and do everything in my power to work on that story -- despite all the nonsense I have to do for life and uni. And this is dependent on how I’m currently feeling and what story ideas resonate with that feeling.

I’m well aware that as creatives, it’s unwise to have our emotions dictate what we’re doing because it can make us wishy-washy and that’s how excuses crop up. I get it, I know it, I’m staring it down it down the pie hole. But in spite of this flaw, it works really well with my writing style because I’m more emotion and introspective-heavy. If I’m not feeling for what’s going on, I just shelve the idea for a while and come back to it when I’m in the right vibe. And that works well since I’m a short story writer, and it lets me pivot easily and not be stuck in a specific mood for long. I believe that’s why chapter-works are so hard for me because I’m stuck in a perpetual mood and it’s very exhausting.

  Do you outline?

I only outline as much as I need to know -- meaning that, I outline enough to get the momentum rolling and for me to put thoughts onto paper and to get the story flowing. As a pantser with recurring self-doubts, I use outlines as a way of motivation and to convince myself that an idea isn’t as (insert self-doubt) as I originally thought. Because of this approach, I love knowing what my beginning will be and I will outline the shit out of that while I leave the middle and ending up to my interpretation as I pants my way through the story and see where it naturally goes.

That’s why whenever you read my works, you’ll notice how solid the beginning is and how it meanders towards the end. Because at that point, I’m flowing by feeling and am steering the story to where it wants to go. Having this loose trajectory is great for me because I’m often inserting bridge moments or extra scenes or am embellishing something throughout the story, and that gives my stories the texture that make them a bit more exciting. 

  Do you start your first draft with pen and paper, typewriter, or computer?

I computer everything.

With how weak my finger, hand, wrist and arm nerves and muscles have been, I can’t write by hand for very long and I don’t have the funds to purchase a typewriter, the ink or the special paper that those need. So a laptop is my go-to and it saves me a lot of physical clutter. 

  What do you do to get through writer's block?

Read, watch, and listen to as much as content as I can get my hands on if I’m experiencing a creative burnout and if it’s hard for me to find ideas that I want to devote my time to. If the writer block is stemming from doubts that I have, I like to read quotes from Goodreads and to expose myself to other styles and concepts or just reading how someone worded something in a certain way. Because that expands the choices where I can take my writing or concept, and it’s motivation in its own way as I truck forward with what I’m doing.

  Do you format your project from the beginning or worry about that later?

Font: Times New Roman Font Size: 11 Font Color: White Page Color: Black Line Spacing: 1.15, space after a paragraph

Every time I open up a new word document, those are my go-to configurations for a successful write. I believe a few years ago, I read something about how writing with a dark page is easier on the eyes. So ever since I did that, I’ve never looked back.

  Do you edit as you go or when you're finished with the first draft?

Many writing advices out there say that you shouldn’t write as you go, and they have convincing reasons as to why. However, for my writing style, I do edit as I go and it’s worked really well for me -- especially since I’m a pantser. Because whenever I feel stuck, I know it’s because something earlier in the work isn’t working well for me. So I often reread and edit as I do so and revise and shape the story to where I left off and I know where to go.

It’s why I don’t have a “true” first draft. Because in actuality, different parts of my draft are in different stages of the writing process. So in a sense, I have a living draft that is whatever it wants to be.

I will say that this is much easier to handle when the work is short, but I’ve done this for 12k, 15k, 22k stories before. It’s a lot harder and it’s very exhausting, but it does work and I have systems in place to keep me moving forward.

  After finishing your drafts/manuscript how long do you give it a break before you start going back over it or do you give it a break at all?

As I mentioned in the previous question, I revise and edit as I go so it’s difficult for me to answer this question. However, I try to give myself a few hours or at least half a day away from the story before I come back to it and continue where I left off.

I will take breaks between short story projects (at least one day). But other than that, that’s it.

  Is there something that you prefer to do to get you through writing? (Playing music, tv, having your favorite drink, or food) 

I love starting my writing session by listening to some music I don’t mind repeating for a long time and listening to music that vibes with what I’m doing. And if I’m beginning a story, I like to go on Goodreads and read some opening quotes or random lines to get my gears turning as I approach my writing. If I’m picking up from where I left off, I like to reread from the beginning or from a beginning marker that I’ve left behind and go from there to where I left off so I can get back into the moment.

  Do you schedule your writing sessions?

I write whenever I can -- through pockets of time. So no, I don’t have a schedule.

However, I tend to begin stories or at least through the density of them through the morning to around the early afternoon. In the early evening and late at night, that’s when I’m loosely outlining and brainstorming new ideas because my inner-editor is a lot quieter than those periods.

  Do you have word count or chapter goals for your writing sessions?

No. However much I write, that’s how much I write.

It could be 300 words in one day, or it could be 1.8k words in one day. Wildly depends on how I’m feeling and how I’m scheduling everything else in my life around my writing.

  Are there any quirky things you do to make your projects more fun?

I did a lot of poetry before I got serious with narrative writing, so something that I do to make the writing more fun is that I incorporate poetry techniques into my stories and use that rhythm to have it interesting. This feeds into my writing habit of reading out loud as I work and because I’m stressing on how the rhythm goes and how it sounds when I hear it, much of what I write is meant for the ear -- rather than the eyes. 

  Do you work on multiple projects at one time? 

My brain can only handle one story concept at a time. Already, writing takes a lot out of me and I would run myself ragged if I had to juggle more than one in a single day.

  How often do you research what you're writing?

Depends on the work itself.

If I’m writing my first fic for a fandom or am writing for a character or pairing I’m not comfortable, I’ll research around on fandom wikipedia and read a few works from other writers to get a sense of how I could approach the character or pairing.

I’m working on a story that’s heavily involved in a certain topic or whatnot, I will go ham on that research because I want to know the rules of what I’m incorporating and how I can spin those rules to find solutions. However, it’s been a long while since I’ve done something like this.

  How do you organize your projects? 

I write in a word document whose only purpose is for me to draft, revise and edit on. After I’m finished with that story, I transfer that work onto a new word document and shelve that to a “Completed Folder.”

There’s something about having a word document purely dedicated to just the writing process, there’s something about that helps me out a lot. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like there’s magic there. There’s thousands upon thousands of blood, sweat and tears drenched into that word document and I just build upon that and let it carry me through. It’s very motivating on a primitive level.

  Do you reward or punish yourself for achieving or missing out on your writing goals?

No.

I’ve done something like this in the past and it just didn’t work out because it spiked my anxiety. I don’t know how to define my relationship with writing, but it’s definitely not that. It feels more like a friendship than a -- than a platonic BDSM, work-related creative thingy. I don’t take pleasure in pain nor pain in pleasure, so yeah. No.

  Are there any works similar to your projects that you look for and use - for inspiration and/or comparison?

Again, Goodreads quotes for inspiration. That’s about it. 

  How early do you wait to start looking for and hiring editors? 

Being that this is an authortube writing process questionnaire, it doesn’t apply to me as a fanfic writer. The equivalent to this for the fandom space would be a critique partner or a beta reader. I don’t use either. I just read my things over and slap it through an editing and grammar program before posting for others to see. And if any errors manage to slip through, I let the lucky bastards live.

  If you've finished a first draft or a manuscript. Tell us how you felt afterwards. (Pick your favorite) If you're not through the first draft yet tell us how you're feeling about it at the moment. 

I feel very calm and content after finishing the Ever Given x Suez Canal ficlet I wrote earlier this morning. Given the whirlwind experience March has been, this felt like a great well to close the month with and it was genuinely a lot of fun.

  Tag someone! 

Tagging @nightyelfy because I know you’ve published a book and I would love to see what your responses are.