#maybe ill reread my old works of them

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Congratulations on 1000 followers! You deserve it with your talent! I wanna request 1000 Secrets with Charlie Weasley!!! Your writing for him makes me love him more, i reread some of your fics of him and im looking forward to more of your works with Charlie! 🥹♥️

thank you so much darling! i sincerely appreciate your support and participation 🫶🏻

1000 Secrets | C.W.

feat. Charlie Weasley x dragonologist!reader

cw: war, spy!Charlie, angst, hurt/comfort, strong language

1000 things prompt list (open until feb 1) | masterlist

Lips grazed your temple, rousing you gently from sleep.

“Be back soon, my love,” Charlie cooed, tucking your quilt tighter around your body before kissing you once more. You heard the heavy thump of his boots across the wooden floor of your cabin, the old wooden door creak open, then shut.

It was the second week in a row that Charlie had slipped out in the middle of the night. At first, you assumed it was to go back to his own cabin, keeping up appearances to avoid becoming the latest subject of gossip around the Dragon Sanctuary, but he was never there when you would check in the morning.

He would reappear sometime after breakfast, looking fatigued and windburned. He’d greet you with a friendly nod, maybe a platonic side-hug, and then would disappear the rest of the day, until he showed up at your doorstep, eyes sparkling with promise, to spend another secret evening with you.

Whenever you pressed him about it, he would be evasive, laying on the charm thick as if you could be so easily disarmed. You worked with dragon’s, for Merlin’s sake. Nothing escaped your notice.

Charlie was keeping something from you, and you intended to find out what.

Quickly, you pulled the stash of folded clothes you set out that morning and put them on, sneaking out of your cabin and following the sound of Charlie’s footsteps through the dark. It was nearly impossible to see, the moon a narrow crescent of silver overhead, the overcast sky blotting out the stars.

Charlie walked towards the training pit, where the rideable dragon’s all lived, and his preferred Norweigan Ridgeback appeared as if waiting for him. You ducked low to avoid the perceptive dragon’s eye, and could hear Charlie speaking softly to the beast, reaching up to caress it’s scaled neck.

“Ready, mate? We’ve got a date in London,” he said, sounding weary but determined.

Your heart plummeted, a gasp wrenching itself from your throat. The dragon’s golden eyes flicked towards you, but Charlie didn’t seem to notice. You clapped a hand over your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks, and sank deeper into the bushes.

Charlie was cheating on you? You couldn’t fathom it, not your Charlie. He was the by far the best man you’d ever known: chivalrous, loyal, big-hearted. You never, ever thought he would be capable of something so cruel.

Your relationship may be a secret from your coworkers at the Dragon Sanctuary, but it was far from casual. You loved him, and you were nearly 100% certain he loved you too. Or at least, that's what you thought.

A few moments later, man and beast took the skies, disappearing with a few heavy wing beats.

You ran back to your cabin, choking back angry sobs, and collapsed onto your bed. Surely, you were mistaken, you told yourself. That couldn’t be what he meant.

But if not…then what else?

You cancelled your shift the following day, feigning illness, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Charlie appeared at your cabin to check on you. You had never quesitoned whether or not he cared for you, but now…

A knock responded through the cabin, the knob turning.

“Darling? Soren said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you some—oh, what are you doing out of bed?” Charlie closed the door behind him, setting an armfull of things on the ground by the door. He looked handsome in his work uniform, cargo pants and a slash-proof long sleeve shirt. His copper waves were brushed back, freckled cheeks pink from the cold and under eyes dark with fatigue.

You waited for him in the center of the room, arms crossed over your chest.

Understanding dawned in Charlie’s amber eyes, and he sighed. “Just, promise me you aren't ill before we get into this?”

“I'm not ill,” you bit, and he relaxed a fraction.

He raised his arms, a gesture of surrender. “Let me have it, then.”

“I saw you, last night with your Ridgeback.”

He grimaced, but didn't speak.

“You told her you had a date in London, before taking off. And now, here you are, looking like you hadn't slept in weeks. Two week, perhaps? Since that's how long you've been sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“You think I'm cheating on you,” he said, his shoulders softening.

“I do.”

Charlie took a few tentative steps towards you, his big hands settling on the slope of your ribs. His eyes were laden with sincerity, wearing the same, serious expression he wore when settling an unruly dragon. “Baby, I'd cut off my own cock and give it to you as a present before I let anyone else near it. I am not and would never stray from you.”

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you forced them down. You so badly wanted to believe him. “So, what then? What are you hiding, Charlie?”

Charlie took a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut before snapping open, sharp and treacherous as the Horntail. “This cannot leave this cabin, do you understand me?”

The edge of his voice made a prickle of fear climb your neck. You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

He stepped back and reached into his boot, withdrawing a crumbled envelope. Carefully, he unfolded it and handed it to you. The page was worn and singed on one side, and entirely blank.

“Charlie, what—”

He tapped his wand to the center of the page, muttering a spell you didn't recognize. A code word, you realized, when inked words bloomed across the parchment.

You recognized the handwriting immediately from your years at Hogwarts.

“Dumbledore asked me to be a spy for the Order,” Charlie said, voice measured, his eyes trained on your face.

You read the letter once, twice, three times. Charlie was in the Order of the Phoenix. Standing at the first line of defense against the Dark Lord.

Indignation mixed with panic made you grit your teeth. “Why would you—”

“Harry Potter is my little brothers best friend, my little sisters heart. My family is putting their lives on the line every day for this war, to protect him.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide the hurt, the guilt etched deep into his face. “I can't—I can't sit here, thousands of miles away, and do nothing.”

His words splintered your heart into pieces. You knew how much his family meant to him, how much he hated being away from them, especially during times like these.

“Charlie—” you reached for him, pulling him in for a hug. He was stiff in your arms, uncertain. “I know why you had to do it, love. I understand.” Then, you pulled back to swat his chest with the letter. “What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me so I could go with you!”

Charlie’s jaw tightened. “That's exactly why I didn't tell you!” He snapped, startling you into taking a step back from him. He took a stuttering breath, trying to calm himself. “I can't protect my family. We all know I'm incapable of protecting myself,” he grated, the words escaping between clenched teeth. “But you—I can still protect you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “This is war. None of us are safe.”

He stepped closer, reaching up to hold your face, his callouses thumb swiping across your cheek to catch your tears. “If they come here, you will take your Horntail and go, fly to America, to Japan. Far away. And you will not wait for me, or anyone else.”

“But—”

“Just promise me,” he pleaded, eyes burning into yours. “And I will come find you, if I can. I swear I will. But I can't lose them and you. I can’t—” his voice cracked with emotion, tears welling along his lower lashline.

“I promise,” you whispered, resting your palms on his chest, his heart racing beneath his skin. “But you have to promise me that you'll be careful—that you won't do anything reckless. You have to promise that you'll stay alive so you can come find me, if it comes to that.”

“Darling, I’d crawl to you.” He rested his forehead against yours. “I promise.”

You rose onto your toes and closed the final inch between you, molding your lips to his in a tearful, desperate kiss. He looped his arms around your waist, hauling you into his chest and deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed yours, charting every inch of your mouth like he was committing it to memory.

Charlie was the keeper of countless secrets, but in that moment, you knew you were his most precious one, the one he'd keep tucked away in his heart: safe from harm.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there.��

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[fulloflambing]

just yap about my most recent work (how i made it, the alternate plots or endings), and my future posts :D

writing that story took soooo much brain juice from me i feel like my brain has become a wringed sponge. im honestly rlly proud i managed to finish it😭

ive had writing experience before here on tumblr but i never rlly put alot of effort into it and it often made me feel bad about how i finished my stories. i always just thought about a vague plot, typed away, and posted it. some people enjoyed it n i was grateful for that but whenever id reread my own stories it would make me criticize myself and make me unmotivated to write, which eventually made me delete my old writeblr.

but ever since i've come back, and especially with 'heaven can wait', i rlly took my time to rewrite things i didnt find fitting. ive stopped writing just to post, but writing to actually enjoy and better my skills. im honestly proud of myself for taking the time to do that because i am, truthfully, a very impatient person n i hate redoing things. actually, i rewrote the story by like the 3.5k word mark TWICE and made sure i was truly happy with it. the plot was actually supposed to go two ways!:

kinich would find reader in their home, and they could comfort eachother real quick in the house before kinich escorted them to the survival shelter. kinich would then make a promise to reader to come back alive and boom boom fighting wham he comes back to them and boom emotional reunion!

^ i changed my mind halfway while writing this because i wanted the story to have more depth and to make it more about reader and kinich both experiencing grief and negative emotions more. this plotline was just too lovey dovey and chill for my liking.

2. kinich reunites with the reader in the end by finding her dead asleep in the tribe's infirmary.

^ i didnt like this ending because i felt like it would've been a boring climax to the heavy emotions of reader as she was separated from kinich thinking he was dead. does that make sense? like it felt like a boring way to end off y/n's part after building up all these negative thoughts swirling in their mind just for her not to even see kinich come back from war to have those negative thoughts be swooped away from her in a romantic light. it was cute tho, kinich would've been whispering 'im home' as he admired reader as they recovered but i didnt want a calm ending for the story. i wanted a passionate, emotional reunion type :) like very 'light after the storm'-esque type of ending!

some parts of the story i dont like but i feel like is the part i could do for the story was how mavuika defeated the abyss? i CANT WRITE ACTION FOR SHYT!!!! so it took so much deleting and rewriting and paraphrasing it actually got me a headache just to write that small section 😭😭

on a more exciting note, the next thingy ill write is probably for kinich's birthday! im very torn about what ill write and when ill write it because i have exams right after kinichs bday so i dont think ill have time to write for it.

but after i figure out and post a birthday special for kinich, i'll be writing a more angsty, heartbroken-y story kind of related to 'heaven can wait' but if things went wrong. its really not an alternate ending, more of like "if it ended this way, this would've happened." its been a plot thats been marinating in my head for awhile and i think you guys will rlly like it! its gonna be angst with comfort but still sad ending hihi sorry.

i have alot of canon fanfic ideas that i wna write as soon as possible but i feel like i should switch it up and write some modern!au fics. and maybe with other characters (my other favs! capitano, xiao, thoma, etc.). i also feel like i have to prepare a 100 follower special soon but i have nooo idea what to do for it huhu THANK U BTW GUYS FOR 81 FOLLOWERS AAA IM SO TOUCHED

in short, i have a lot and i mean srsly alot of kinich ideas rn but my schedule is gonna be cramped this week. but after ill be free again! my problem is i just dont know what to write first 😔💔

anyway, maybe ill do a poll or something :) ILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!!

if you've read this far, thank u sm and i appreciate it >< ill do my best to write as much as i can.

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.”

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

  "What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

  *

  It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: January 2024

as long as I'm talking about The Gargoyle's Captive, let's discuss what else I've been reading this month.

Maeve Fly (CJ Leede, 2023) - I really liked this slender debut novel, which follows the titular Maeve Fly as she prowls LA like a homicidal alien, playing an unnamed ice princess in a certain theme park by day and indulging her murderous tendencies by night. Maeve is in a downward spiral; she's 27 years old and is preparing to lose her grandmother to illness and her only friend to a blossoming acting career. she sees no future for herself beyond losing the only two people she cares about and has no further goals, contenting herself with alcohol and porn while she rereads the same books, rewatches the same videos, and listens over and over to her playlist of Halloween music. Maeve is, it must be said, an abysmal loser, and I like her terrible melodrama a lot. I do think some of the hype is perhaps overstating the feminist credentials of this book; it sort of reminds me of when a college friend told me their favorite feminist movie was Suicide Squad (2016) because Harley Quinn was in it. Maeve talks a lot of big game about how women are always expected to have some tragedy to be deranged serial killers, while men are allowed to just do it, but it hit me as a little tryhard. there are a lot of books trying to be "the female American Psycho" right now - Eliza Clark's 2020 novel Boy Parts is frequently described as such - but it feels a bit too on the nose when Maeve's ultimate climactic rampage is directly inspired by a glimpse of the American Psycho novel. it's not that deep, but it is a gross, captivating read told from a fascinatingly cracked POV. check out Maeve Fly.

Laziness Does Not Exist (Devon Price, 2021) - yeah Devon Price is still following me (though my days are numbered, I'm sure) so it's a massive relief to say that I did like this book. Price has sort of become my self-help ride or die, mainly because a.) he's so much more self-aware than the average self-help writer that it feels kind of insulting to call him one and b.) he's actually dealing with topics that are relevant or interesting and providing actionable advice. while LDNE didn't engross me quite as hard as Unmasking Autism (while I am, famously, not autistic, I do believe in their beliefs, by which I mean I'm the token allistic among my close friends and I vastly prefer autistic company) it hit me hard in several unexpected pressure points. I'll happily admit that I can't relate to Price's interviewees who willingly work 50+ hours a week for jobs that hate them and are destroying their minds and bodies, but I still struggle to escape the perpetual sensation that a moment at rest is a moment wasted. It probably didn't help that I was reading this book while on vacation at my mother's, where I visited the beach almost daily and was so work-averse that we didn't even bother going grocery shopping because I didn't want to cook. and yet, despite getting dummy chill in some aspects of my life, I am still constantly possessed by a malevolent ghost insisting that I'm wasting my time and have never actually done Enough. maybe Price's next book, Unlearning Shame, will finally fix me; it's out in four days and god knows I'll be getting my hands on it as soon as humanly possible.

Patternmaster (Octavia E. Butler, 1976) - y'all know I love a messy political fantasy, and this is just... god, the absolute messiest. I thought Mind of My Mind was bad, but it turns out Mary's descendants are going to full-on reinvent feudalism with psychic powers, treating non-psychics as chattel and causing technological advancement to regress since they refuse to handle their problems with anything but psychic powers. and it's even got two brothers duking it out for the throne that will give them power over every bitchy psychic on earth! you love to see it. if I can be 100% honest I do think it's straight up bananagrams that this was the first book released in the series even though it's chronologically last; I genuinely cannot imagine caring enough to figure out what the fuck these people were talking about if I didn't have the previous four books for context. and even "context" may be generous; Octavia still has absolutely 0 interest in explaining what's up with the fucking outer space werewolves who are the psychics' #1 enemy. if I could have brunch with any person living or dead I would summon Butler up in a heartbeat to explain what the fuck her thought process was in plotting out this series over some mimosas, and I would take extensive notes on every word she said. an absolute genius and the uncontested queen of freak shit forever.

Thirsty Mermaids (Kat Leyh, 2021) - I purchased this graphic novel in November 2023 at a conference where I bumped into Queer Comics Peddler, my very favorite queer midwestern pop-up. running into them is always a delight, and this time I came with a question: could they give me a recommendation? the very nice people working offered up Thirsty Mermaids, which was the PERFECT companion for a long airplane ride. it's cute without being overly sappy, and avoids the trap of sacrificing a plot for the sake of checking off as many representation boxes as possible. the story is simple: three mermaids use a spell to turn into humans and go ashore in search of booze, only to realize in the morning that they don't know how to turn back. taken in by a generous bartender, they're faced with the reality of having to make money for the first time in their lives. hijinks ensue, but also a very sweet and warmhearted story about the friends looking out for one another as they try to figure out exactly where they belong and what home even means. also the artwork is GORGEOUS, with the mermaids' extremely memorable character designs being a real standout. if you're a graphic novel enthusiast, definitely check this out 🧜‍♀️

Sugar, Baby (Celine Saintclare, 2023) - Sugar, Baby came to me in a very similar way as Thirsty Mermaids: while visiting a witchy little bookstore that I was immediately charmed by, I asked the cashier what they would recommend. they offered up Maeve Fly (fab) and this novel, a stack of which was on the counter advertising an upcoming event with the author. neither have disappointed, so shout out to that one employee with the great taste! Sugar, Baby sees a young cleaner named Agnes, one of the only biracial women in her unnamed English town, befriending the daughter of a wealthy client and getting whisked away to her new friend's London lifestyle: crashing in an apartment with fellow models, staying out all night to party, and making money by going on dates with extravagantly wealthy older men. Agnes starts out having a swell time, but the cracks pretty swiftly start to form as she realizes how much more dependent she is on these men than her wealthy new friends and she begins to wonder exactly how much she's willing to diminish herself to get the bag. it's not a perfect first novel but it is a compelling one, a perfect airplane page-turner that crashes from glitzy to ghoulish and back with breakneck speed.

The Gargoyle's Captive (Katee Robert, 2023) - my full review is over on patreon for my darling supporters who want me dead (and picked this book in the first place, damn them to hell), but suffice to say this is a fun book to read if you like the sensation of your brain melting out of your nose, if you're really turned on by baby's first bdsm, you are not particularly concerned with trifling matters like "plot coherence" or "character motivation" or "writing that is complex and artful," and/or you've ever wanted to have sex with a dude whose penis is so big that you feel genuinely fear. also, hey, I forgot to include this in my patreon write-up so fuck it: Robert REFUSES to tell us what kind of food the protagonists are eating, ever. whenever they have a meal it's just "the food was placed on the table" "I took a bite" etc. drop me a HINT, man, come on! is it a protein? grain? starches? the only thing I know for sure that they're consuming is wine and a single marshmallow, and god does it show. it's just a very weird and distracting omission and it's absolutely not the worst thing about this book but it is a hill I'm willing to die complaining on.

[gizkasparadise]

webtoons im currently hooked on

my brain hasnt been able to muster the attention span for dramas lately, so i've switched to reading webtoons for the time being. wanted to share some of my current favorites so maybe some folks can fangirl about them with me /o/

i also have a list of similar dramas so if youre new to webtoons but not dramas you can kind of compare #vibes

roughly in order:

TRAPPED (ALSO KNOWN AS OLGAMI OR NOOSE)

synopsis (mild spoilers)

girl meets boy at church. girl is an ex-convict who tried to kill someone. boy is a vampire. boy blackmails the girl into hiding his dead bodies using her job as a taxi driver. boy thought he had control over the situation. he absolutely does fucking not. the most fucked up slowest of slow burns ensues as fuck-or-die might become a little too literal.

why read

omfgggggggggggggg if you like your ships dysfunction junction this one is 100% for you. the romance takes a while to kick off, with the first season being mostly thriller with some unhinged UST between the leads, but when the male lead (park yunsu, vampire murderbastard) falls he falls hard and it is messy beyond all belief because the female lead (han chae-ah, taxi driver and unwilling gravedigger) does not forgive or forget and will do whatever it takes to survive. both leads are compelling and interesting and it's such a great take on enemy lovers (and not necessarily enemies to lovers)

chae-ah: i'll kill you

yunsu: alright :) try your best :) ill be waiting :)

the side characters are all really interesting as well! especially grimm, a 60-year-old child who definitely chooses mom in the divorce

similar dramas: basically take any fei wo si cun male lead (goodbye my princess, siege in fog), give him the ability to commit supernatural murder, and then pair him with a female lead who will absolutely kill him the second she gets a chance to

MY REASON TO DIE (ALSO KNOWN AS WHAT I DECIDED TO DIE FOR)

synopsis

ji-o is a talented taekwondo student athlete on her way to the olympics before she gets an injury that stalls her progress. while on the bus to training, she crosses paths with cha gyeol, a delinquent who runs with a rough crowd and almost never comes to school. as she navigates her feelings with unexpected first love, ji-o keeps having prophetic dreams-- ones where someone dies over and over again.

why read

female gaze: the webtoon lol. ok but actually what starts out as a fairly fluffy/slice of life high school romance has a plot twist that really rocks and made want to immediately start a reread of the whole webtoon.

similar dramas: someday or one day

MAYBE MEANT TO BE

synopsis

han jia is a 32 year old unemployed freelancer living with her parents, who are getting a little desperate to have her out of the house. during the holidays, she sneaks away from her family to have a smoke in the alleyway. there, she bumps into jin mincheol, a friend from childhood who she hasn't talked to in years. and he is just kind of. eating a chicken breast there. anyways.

they talk, and mincheol shares that his mother is also pressuring him to get married. jia proposes a contract marriage, not expecting mincheol to take her up on it. he does. immediately. oh shit.

why read

omg jia's a mess and mincheol's a nerd (affectionate x2). there's something just really delightful about seeing these little weirdos work through their issues, grow, and realize that they actually fit really well together. i love them both. mincheol is just so delightfully consistent and we get to see jia begin to figure her life out. the humor is spot on as well, i've laughed out loud several times

similar dramas: because this is my first life

OTHERS I REALLY LIKE

something about us. gayoung and woojin have been friends forever. when woojin comes back to college after his military service, that begins to get shaken up. friends to lovers with really cute art and one of my favorite second leads of all time

unholy blood. hayan is a pureblood vampire OUT FOR REVENGE against other vampires. blood+ vibes in the best way (not that far into this one yet, BUT IM READY)

dreaming freedom/freedom in dreams. jeongmin is relentlessly bullied in school, and the only way she escapes is through lucid dreaming, where she imagines her life differently and also how she can get her revenge. in her dreams, she meets a manic murder yandere boy, and shit escalates from there

cheese in the trap. aaaaaaaay we know this one :'D

[triumphantfury]

Hi!!! Just dropping by because I was missing your fics so I reread them and now I have to tell you how much I love you. I love you a lot, by the way. Like literally every time I read a chapter of yours I love you more because GAH the writing is so damn good. Ahem anyways thank you so much for the update on Wrapped in Red and I still have to fan myself every time I look at Upside, but I've been thinking the most about "To Suffer a Witch." I don't mean to put any pressure on you or anything but may I inquire on the next chapter's status? Or perhaps just request a snippet? Also when you asked the readers whether or not they'd like an eventual lemon I'd like to vote yes to the lemon. Please. Possibly-Demon Hiccup is hot as hell and I'm greedy. 😅

Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful writing with us and I hope you have a wonderful day, week, and at least a virtual cabin in the woods where you can relax, read, and at least think on writing!

Oh boy….

It’s taken me forever to get around to answering this ask, but as the new chapter update is almost complete (after way, WAY too many rewrites), I feel like I can finally post this reply with some measure of confidence. Sorry it’s taken so long. I wish I had a good excuse, but my brain sometimes just shuts me out.

Anyway, after much anticipation, and likely a little cursing, here’s an excerpt from the soon to be posted next chapter of TSaW:

*The next couple days seemed to drag by for Astrid. She felt trapped between a longing to see Hiccup again just to prove she wasn’t mad, and a strong urge to just write it all off as a delusion. Perhaps one brought on by some bad grain or curdled milk. Countless times she’d been sure she heard hoofbeats outside, only to have them grow into a roll of thunder the next second. Or she’d catch a glimpse of a dark shadow approaching on the road, only to have it melt from her sight a moment later as if swept away by the driving rain.

Some small part of her was starting to worry she was actually going mad. Her mood darkening as she channeled her other feelings into straight anger so as to help herself deal with it better. It wasn’t as if she could really speak of it to anyone, anyway. She was still too confused about it herself.

Resigned to bear this burden alone, Astrid had kept to herself as much as possible while trapped inside. Waiting impatiently for a break in the weather when she could distract herself with repairs outside instead. The Lord knows there was always plenty of work to keep her busy. That, and manual labour was better than wasting time dwelling on… Whatever it was that had occurred here the other night.

Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately - she’d soon discovered that the storm hadn’t done anywhere near as much damage as she’d expected given its ferocity. The house, shed, and barn had all weathered fair enough at least. An old tree had toppled near the back of the pasture though. She’d gone out to repair the section of broken fencing yesterday. Her brothers helping her as much as she would allow them to - which mostly meant keeping the opportunistic goats from escaping through the hole while she worked.

It had been while she was winding the last of the rope around the newly set post that Ruffnut had approached her from across the field. Somehow always keyed in to the local to-dos, Tuffnut had heard from one of their other neighbours that some people had started to fall ill in town. The worst of which was little Argh — Mr. and Mrs. Ack’s youngest son, who was not yet a full year into this world.

“Gunnar thinks it’s because of those witches that Trader Johan was talking about the other day,” Ruff stage-whispered over the fence. Her thumb gesturing towards the home on the far side of Mildew’s plot as she glanced around, as if to make sure no one else was within earshot.

“I’d be rather foolish to agree,” Astrid huffed. “It’s likely just been brought on by the rain. We all know that a chill in the air today sets a chill in the bones tomorrow.” Looking away from her gossipy neighbour, she dressed the knot as her father had taught her before pulling it good and tight. Then she stood and gave her work a proud once over. Nodding, as if to show her approval to the craftsman.

“Maybe…” Ruffnut’s hesitant reply trailed off thoughtfully, and she was chewing on her lip when Astrid at last looked her way again. It was almost as if she had something she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if she should speak it aloud.

“Go on,” Astrid grumbled. “Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“Well, Gunnar told Tuff that Trader Johan said the evil, or what ever it is, would arrive first in the form of a black shadow on horse back…”

“Trader Johan has always enjoyed adding plenty of dramatic nonsense about ghosties, ghoulies, and other such things to his tales,” Astrid felt the need to point out. “He seems to think it makes the stories more exciting.”

“I know,” Ruff agreed. “Thing is, Tuffnut swears he saw a stranger dressed in all black when he was out in the woods yesterday. A stranger riding atop a huge black horse. When he tried to get a better look, man and horse were already gone. Maybe the horse was just really fast, but… Tuff said it gave him the creeps.” Her eyes were shifting all around again as she leaned closer over the fence, and she looked unexpectedly nervous.

“Oh, that was probably just…” Astrid’s words died on the way to her mouth as she thought better of it.

Astrid knew how Tuff felt. The unease of not being sure exactly what you had just born witness too. This did not mean that she should necessarily encourage him to repeat his tale. Especially when she didn’t yet know what to think of the whole thing.

Would it truly be wise to mention it to someone else? The twins had never been known for their discretion, and Astrid’s words would simply confirm Tuff’s suspicions — which he would then feel required to share with every person he came across. At best, it could cause a slight scandal that a young man had spent the night in their home. At worst, the superstitious townsfolk may think the Hofferson clan had entertained something entirely inhuman, instead.

No, it was best to keep what she knew of Hiccup Haddock to herself for now. Surely the others would learn of him soon enough. “Just… because Tuff was busy snacking on unknown mushrooms in the forest again.” Astrid finished awkwardly. Covering her near slip-up with an eye roll, just to be safe, and hoping Ruffnut wouldn’t notice.*

If anyone wants to read it, here’s a link to the rest of the story. Or at least the beginning…lol

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

It's that time of year again. Turning another year older means age is just a number, right? I'm not doing anything crazy today (sadly I'm working rn), but hopefully I can enjoy the rest of the evening and make it into a birthday weekend, as long as RL cooperates. It could certainly be a better year for me, but I'm grateful with what I have. Since fandom has helped me a lot throughout the years, blessed me with some of amazing friends and made me who I am today, I thought I'd give back and do something simple and slightly different for this year's birthday fic rec list. Some of you follow me for Harry Potter, Teen Wolf or both (or maybe you just appreciate my dry humour, sarcasm and shenanigans, IDK). And so, here's are 14 multi-fandom and multi-ship fics that I like rereading on repeat because they're made of awesomeness. There's Drarry, Perciver, Wolfstar + rarepairs and Sterek, with the occasional dash of hurt/comfort and angst I love so very much. As always, please give these authors some love by leaving kudos and/or comments!

Maybe you'll find a new fic to add to your TBR (or ship/dynamic you want to explore more of). Check out last year's rec list for your HP fix (lol, get it?). Cheers, and happy reading!

HP- Drarry

🎉 And an Owl Named Romeo by Rickey (E, 26.5k)- Romance, Comfort, Coming Out, Case, Case Fic, Drama, Epistolary, flangst, Auror Fic, Animals, Drama/Light Comedy, Owls, Magic

Draco breeds owls, Harry's an Auror, and an owl named Romeo is going to bring them together.

🎉 Bound To You by agentmoppet | @agentmoppet (E, 28.1k )- Accidental Bonding, Cursed Bonding, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Cartographer Harry Potter, unusual careers, lots of sass, Mild Angst, Pining, Slow Burn

Hag magic is capricious and unruly, and Harry and Draco are bound to stay by each other’s side until they can solve the riddle. In between long car trips, misty rain, and midnight star charts, they begin to understand each other.

🎉 you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (M, 20.7k)- AU - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

HP- Perciver & Rarepairs

🎉 A Journey Home by edelweissmar (Perciver, T, 28k)- Post-War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Falling In Love, Weasley Family, Family Drama, Cute Kids, Fluff and Angst

Almost ten years after the war ended, Percy Weasley is Head of the Department of Magical Transportation and buries himself in work. It is the only way he knows to forget for a while about the mistakes he made, the family he failed, the brother he lost. Oliver Wood, once the promising keeper of the Puddlemere United, had his hand badly injured in the Battle of Hogwarts, and could never play professionaly again. But if there is one thing Oliver doesn't do, it is giving up. (Or, in which Oliver performs illegal magic on his broom and Percy, instead of having him arrested, falls in love)

🎉 Still Standing by eleventy7 | @tinyhistory (Perciver, G, 16k)- Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Isle of Skye, Scotland, Witness Protection, War-related PTSD

After the war, Percy testifies against his corrupted Ministry colleagues and is sent to the Scottish lowlands to live under the protection of a witness security program.

🎉 What Keeps the Stars Apart by MangoMartini (Perciver, E, 8k)- First Time, Blow Jobs, Light Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon

Percy Weasley attends his brother George's wedding, even though he has doubts as to if he's really wanted there. The night takes a turn from bad to worse to surprisingly better when he runs into his old best friend, Oliver Wood, whom he hasn't spoken to in five years.

🎉 that's all i'm asking. by Idnis | @idnis (Deamus, T, 20.3k)- Angst, Kissing, Spin the Bottle, Pining, Emotional Hurt, 6th and 7th year, Wizarding Wars

‘No,’ Seamus replied in a hurry. ‘No, it’s not. Come on. When’s the last time we played something stupid like spin the bottle or seven minutes?’ ‘Really?’ Hermione said. ‘That’s what you want to play?’

🎉 Fire On Fire by WolfstarGarden (Wolfstar, E, 11.3k)- AU - Modern Setting, AU - Ballet, AU - Non-Magical, Ballet, Smut, Rimming, Anal Sex, Control Issues, Social Anxiety, Desire, LGBTQ Themes, Comfort, Crushes, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Dancing, Bottoming, Feelings, Light Angst, Remus Lupin & James Potter Friendship

Sirius’ frown deepened. After a moment he murmured in a low voice, “I don’t understand you at all, Remus Lupin. Oh, but I would so very like to.” A flush crawled boiling heat up Remus’ neck as he fumbled for an answer. “Goodness Sirius ... I’m no one special.” Sirius’ gaze didn’t waver. He said simply, “I think you could be very special to me.”

🎉 quite like us by alarainai | @alarainai (Jegulus, T, 67.3k)- AU- Modern Setting, Texting, Wrong Number AU, Background Wolfstar

[18:12] Seriously, wrong number. Don’t send shirtless pictures to strangers. [18:13] Padfoot, this rejection hurts. [18:16] What’s a Padfoot? [18:17] Wait, is this actually not Padfoot? [18:19] I don’t even know what that is, but no. I’m not a Padfoot.

🎉 Leathers and Lace by doshu | @vdoshu (Flintwood, E, 7.7k)- POV Marcus, Post-Hogwarts, Professional Quidditch, Injury Recovery, anger issues, Toxic Masculinity from side characters, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, Lingerie, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, St Mungo's Hospital

Things were much less complicated when Wood played for a different team. “Fuckin’ twat,” Marcus mutters, glaring at his teammate. Wood can’t hear him, but it still feels good to say the words. He wishes he could punch the git but knows that doing so here, at St Mungo’s, when the Keeper’s out cold and there’s a Healer standing hardly three feet away, wouldn’t be one of his finest moments. No. He’ll wait until Wood’s released, and they’re back on the pitch. Not even on the pitch—the second they run into each other in the change rooms he’ll get Marcus’s fist in his stupid face.

Teen Wolf- Sterek

🎉 it took new york to make me a cowboy by piratetattoos (M, 15.2k)- Post-Season/Series 03, AU - Canon Divergence, Derek Hale Leaves Beacon Hills, New York City, Recovery, Trauma, Writer Derek Hale, Photographer Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek Hale, Healing, Slow Burn, Postcards, Vonnegut References, Long-Distance Relationship, (kind of), Poetry, Identity Porn, AU - Writing & Publishing, Photography, First Kiss, Getting Together, Inevitability, Happy Ending

After Beacon Hills, Derek heads back to New York. He doesn’t look back, lest he be turned into a pillar of salt. He leaves it all behind, a monument, a tomb, a thousand fuck ups and betrayals left to gather dust and slowly rot away to nothing. He read somewhere once, that time is cyclical, that the universe repeats over and over, and that he will be reborn and make the exact same mistakes over and over again, helpless to change anything. He thinks Stiles told him about a Vonnegut novel like that once. He doesn’t think about Stiles. (or: Derek leaves Beacon Hills, finds himself, and waits for Stiles to find him.)

🎉 Don't Talk About the Bachelor Party by snarkatthemoon | @snarkatthemoon (E, 29.5k)- AU - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Future Fic, Scott is a Good Friend, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Pining, Angst, Fluff, Weddings, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Emotional Constipation, Drunken Shenanigans, Getting Together, Sex, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things

“Hey look, I kinda need to run something by you,” Scott starts, sounding sheepish, “You know how I said the venue only has eight rooms?” Stiles ‘hmm’s’ absentmindedly, half-distracted by his work phone that’s pinging with emails. “Well, my Dad has decided he wants to stay the night of the wedding now, so we’ve had to make a few changes to the sleeping arrangements.” Stiles groans, throwing his work phone across the bed. He has a feeling he knows where this is going and he knows that Scott knows he’s got him backed into a corner. “Really, Stiles, we couldn’t figure out how to do it another way, and I know it’s not exactly the best timing in the world—” “Just come out with it, Scott.” “We need you to share a room with Derek.” Or, the one where Stiles tries to deny that he's emotionally constipated, there's a wedding, and no one will shut up about what happened at Scott's fucking Bachelor Party.

🎉 Hale of Heart by Nahara (E, 23k)- AU - Future, Future Fic, Witches, Falling In Love, Emissary in Training, Stiles Stilinski, Bad Poetry, First Time, Blow Jobs, OCs, Jealous Stiles, Derek Feels, Derek Hale Has a Heart

Derek’s heart is cursed into a jar (because why the hell not? this is Beacon Hills) and Stiles is an Emissary (in training) who finds himself heart-sitting for Derek. Stiles would like to make it clear that while yes, Derek did give him his heart, he obviously didn’t mean it like that, so stop making those faces, guys.

🎉 Loving You (Losing You) by whentheywrite (T, 11.9k)- AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, oblivious idiots, Curses, Pixies, Canon-Typical Violence, Monster of the Week, BAMF Stiles, Protective Derek, Idiots in Love, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Scott McCall is a puppy, The Pack Being Idiots, slight angst, Crack, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor

Derek is cursed to lose what he loves, the pack doesn't know how to react, and Stiles is concerned. Rightfully so, since nothing seems to happen. And then everything goes wrong.

[amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet]

13 for behind the scenes…sorta? I’m not sure if its my absolute favorite dialogue (would have to reread the whole thing) but the scene on the way to Cleff where Link and Endeavor have a mature, adult conversation about the events of the Soul temple boss fight stuck with me. I thought it was excellently written! Kinda curious how you went about that.

Thank you for the ask @hummbirds! Oh, this scene was tough. I'm gonna put the prompt and then a read more because obviously very late game spoilers. And I honestly couldn't think of a single line of dialogue either with how massive GoS is as my own favorite, so I appreciate you sending me yours! (also the compliment on it, thank you!)

13. My favorite line of dialogue from this fic was Goddess of Secrecy. What inspired it?

So around the time I started writing this section of GoS (chiefly the boss fight of the Soul Temple), my mom and her brothers began discussion about their mother and her moving into assisted living. I ended up, as the eldest kid often does, an ear for my mom as she was working through this. And this is a conversation happening states away from me, and biased by the person I was hearing it from, but a lot of the early discussion on that got put on my mom because one of my uncles had been handling it sololy until then and the other was not ready for the conversation. So she ended up getting a lot of that conversation alone.

The situation with Endeavor in the Soul Temple to me was a parallel to a child having to face the end of life care for a parent. As far as Endeavor knows, Zeal is terminally ill. There is no cure, she is possessed at this point by Ganondorf (adding on the debate of how much the actions she's taken since that possession are her own/her responsibility). And without any support on the matter, Endeavor has to make the decision whether or not to pull that plug, effectively.

Respectively, Link is in GoS an orphan and the Hero. It is diametrically opposed to his identity to let Zeal die, particularly knowing she was possessed and seeing the shard of the mirror she sent to become the mirror he used to get there (to him, a cry for help). He already has Nazirah's death on his hands (in his opinion) and he will not let Endeavor become an orphan like him because he cares about them as his friend.

Both of these are good motives. But Link's course of action fundamentally overrides Endeavor's decision about their parent on a decision they had grieved on and made their best peace with in the middle of, well, everything else. As they said in the chapter.

It is also meant to reflect on what Soul is as an element in GoS. Soul magic, for the sake of brevity, most closely equates to 5e's enchantment magic. Which is the magic used for possession. A lot of people, very rightly, have started looking at spells like Charm Person and Command as being, you know, maybe not very good things to know and very easy to abuse in a consent kind of conversation.

But the thing about powers/magic is that you can find a way to use them that's within a healthy boundary. Princess (the Sage for clarity) uses her Soul magic for boons and inspiration, and, notably, she doesn't use it on Endeavor after Endeavor says not to (which is what circles back in that final fight). By contrast, the magic that Zeal uses as the Soul Sage (going back to the Sayyida boss fight as an example) and that was used on her is a magic of possession.

And also, that Link technically used on Zeal, even with good intentions and even if Zeal allowed the possession to happen.

The conversation on the way to Cleff is meant to highlight a couple things. One, Link's still effectively a kid. At this point in GoS he's 18 but he's an 18 year old tasked with saving the world. Kinda a tall order. Which leads into the second point, good people make mistakes too. The thing that makes them good people is how they respond to that. Link acknowledges his mistake because he is a good person. Not to be mundane about that portion, but that's just who Link is. He's the Hero, he's a good person, he's supposed to reflect a good person.

Look, I have a lot of kids who read my fics. I don't want to get too preachy with my stuff, but particularly since I have a lot of young boys reading my work, I want them to have good examples of doing the right thing. Particularly from a character they're also probably looking at as a Hero and role model. And owning up to doing the wrong thing even if you meant well is part of that.

And thank you again for the ask. This was a scene I was really worried about landing and it means a lot to hear it did.

[gumjester]

im sorry i was stalking your ask tag bc i was scouring for any tidbits of info for ur rewrite. and now i have to say i am SHAKING IN EXCITEMENT for the wonderland arc. holy shit. i know thats probably a long way away but the little descriptions about Blood and Knives and Dinner Parties and the overall Fuckedupness of wonderland is so !!!!!! and thats of course on top of the fact my fav is lizzie and i adore the rest of the wonderlandians, AND your characterisation of the wonderlandians thus far is soo *chefs kiss*. i reread the food fight scene almost daily bc im obsessed with lizzie fully throwing a steak knife at daring and then screaming ILL SHOW YOU FUCKING WONDERLAND and kitty's usual chaos causing self and maddie being the usual bubbly but also Mysterious gal..... anyways . i love your wonderlandians. and also the way people perceive and talk about them.. is it racism . im calling it racism. actually now that i mention that i remember raven's comment in the beginning with her mother on how it seems like theres no news on how theyre fixing wonderland.... very interesting.... *stares hard at milton grimm and his clear disdain/bias against the wonderlandians*

this ask was longer than i thought and somehow dissolved into me talking about ur depiction of wonderlandians in general My Bad!!!

I SAVED THIS ASK IN MY INBOX LIKE A PRECIOUS JEWEL JUST READING IT MAKES ME SMILE SO MUCH........... OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU HAVE NO IDEA! OR MAYBE YOU DO! IT CERTAINLY SEEMS LIKE IT ACTUALLY

the wonderland arc is (because biased gummy is biased) my very favourite arc that i have planned so far and i truly think i am going to have SO MUCH FUN writing it because there is not a single moment of peace throughout the entire thing. just wall to wall insanity. just like wonderland would have wanted!!!!!!!! I HOPE SO VERY MUCH THAT YOU ENJOY AND I AM SO ELATED THAT YOU'RE ENJOYING LIZZIE AND KITTY AND MADDIE I WORK VERY HARD ON THEM THEY ARE MY PRIDE AND JOY

and wonderland racism! yes! good old fashioned xenophobia 👍 it strikes again.... the fairy tale world is rebuilding itself from the ruins of the queen war slowly but surely, while wonderland... well. the most grimm can do for now is seal the realm and figure out the best way to address the situation, which seems in itself to be. keeping the realm sealed. hm. the ineffable workings of the fairy tale world's great leader! i'm sure he knows what he's doing and there is absolutely no discrimination involved [This message was funded by the Milton Grimm Normal Person PR Team]

[iztopher]

sits coquettishly. bats eyelashes. i'm not going to say answer every question this time because i respect that you have many others thing to do over answering 48 questions in a row, and thus: 5, 12, 15, 24, 36, 42, 50!

EHEHE THANK U BOTH FOR UR MERCY AND UR ENTHUSIASM

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now! (don't you dare go down)

"Hey, Iz, you frequently list don't you dare go down as your favorite fic you've written, even though it's years old at this point. Why?"

I'm really proud of this fic for several reasons: I overall still really like the writing, people consistently compliment my favorite lines on it so it makes me confident I got across what I wanted to say, it covers some of my favorite te'ijalahad concepts.

I love this fic because, more than any fic I've written, it's essentially distilled headcanons. I knew, for years, that I wanted to write a fic about Te'ijal patching up Galahad after the fight where he got the scar across his eye, and a fic about Galahad reflecting on Te'ijal after the tower scene. I came up with the idea of Te'ijal getting scarred from the tower scene and realized I had the opportunity to put it in a fic. I kept thinking up ideas about Te'ijal helping Galahad with his injuries, and then about him always wearing armor and how that reflects on his (dis)comfort with her. I love the genre of te'ijalahad fic that's understated improvement in their relationship simply through the contrast of how it used to be and how it is now. And I got to include all of that in this fic!! I love it, and it means that people reading it are essentially listening to me ramble about a lot of my favorite ideas for my favorite characters.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I answered meta already - but I'm blanking on others, honestly. I feel like trope-wise my tastes have narrowed, but more generally they've broadened and I like reading about more characters/ships/headcanons than I used to.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

"AU" is a hard genre for this question actually. If we mean strictly alternative universe, I've only ever written one, which wins by default: left undead.

If we expand it to "canon divergence", then my favorite AU I've written is one I never cleaned up or, uh, finished well enough to post, called only "stella kills gyendal AU". I don't think I'll ever end up finishing it, but mostly because I think I'm going to end up mixing it into my TDP rewrite!

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they? (now we're two of a crime)

okay this does not have any easter eggs but while rereading it to confirm that i jumpscared myself with myst referring to banana boy, so i guess it's a reverse easter egg LMAO

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

I genuinely have no idea how to answer this question. I think I do, but my visualization is so clipped and vague that calling it that doesn't feel fully accurate. I have to make a point to visualize when I'm writing, but I do make that point a lot.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

I've had comments on both ill-conceived and you try so loud to love me that feel too personal to repeat here, generally stuff where my fic really resonated with someone or made them rethink something, and that feeling is maybe the best feeling I've ever had as a result of writing.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

i miss writing (sobs) i haven't had the time and/or brain energy for it since classes started back up! i also really want to finish the fic i'm currently working on, i started it like two years ago and i'm so ready for it to be done jksdfld but i'm just having so much trouble getting the tone right. i hope i can knock it out in the next month or so

[bonesandthebees]

THE SONG U SUGGESTED IS SO INTNESSEFFGW OGKYGOD IM SO SCAREDDD

PHYTHIA WANNABEE OH FUCKFHALDHDPDJFLKSLRNFKNSD

OHMYFUCKINGGODDD

THATS WHERE U PUT MR BEASTSJFKFKLGLGKSKSFLGG

IM CRYIGNKDJSKG BEEEEE

I started reading it thinking "wow what a deep commentary about the glass society and in turn ours-" before realizing it was mr beast 😭

This song DOES fit so well damn wtf

You know, I think it's interesting that rn the pov is The Pythia rather than Wilbur, even tho he's running away from well "being" the Pythia

There's smth to be said here if i were a much smarter person... lmao

Maybe the pressure of everything and being faced with his old name makes him revert back to it

Also I just had to run to catch the bus, 10/10 running music, made me run faster i think LMAO

Oh no

THE LUNGS

OH NO

IS THAT WHAT YHE VISION WAS ABOUT?!?!?! OHMYGOD NOOOO

THE MSUCIDS GETITNG MORE ITNENSE THIS FITS TOO WELL

IS

IS TOMMY GOING TO SUGGEST

IS TOMMY GOING TO SUGGEST HE TAJES HIS BLINFOLD OFF HOLYSHTI OHMGYDO WHAYRJGUVK ISHFPEURKF

IM GONANA SCREAMMMSHFLDKF I CANT DO THIS IM ON A PUBLIC BUS OHFNUCMGNFIFJGOKDR

HOLY FUCKING SHIT OHMUGUPD

THIS IS DEF ONE OF MY FAV CHAPTERS OHKYGOD THIS IS SO GOOD BEE

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OHMYFUCIJGIGOGOD I CANT DO THSI INCANT DO THIS

Im going to be sick. Im going to be sick IM GOINY-

BEE.

HOLFYCUKHIGODIDKPAOEFODPIDFOJFLDHFOFHSOFBDKFBDOFBFKGKFLF

THIS WAS NOY HOW I EXPECTED THE FIRST EYE CONTACR IN YEARS TO GO NOOO PHFJJGUDOS OHKYGOD I CANT I CANT IM GOING TO DIE OHMYGOS I AM GOIGN TO GET A HEART ATATCK AN DPERISH OHMGOD

HES WILBUR AGAIN

WHO THE FU--

OHMYGOD

THEYRE BACK ALREADY?@?$,%*=[*=%

God i can imagien how fucking smug u wrre writing this chaptehrffojgkgjfydofus

I LOVE HIM

THEY MADE IT BACK?!?! NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING TBH BUT I'LL TAKE, ILL FUCKING TAKE IT OHMYGOD

U DIDNT KILL HIM WILBUR ISTG ITS OKAY OUT OF EVERYONE FOR U TO LOOK IN YHE EYE HE WAS RHE 2ND BEST

I say 2nd best bc phil is pretty much dating death so- DHFKD

Im goingnto cry

THE UNDERWORLD

HES STILL WILBUR

I dont even know how i wanna react, idk if i wanna keysmash, scream, swear, or cry ohmygod

:( ive been waiting for this moment but also FUCKKK tbis is painful im gonna cry on this bus i can feel it sgfjfnf

I love tommy so much ohjygod

Glass tommy mvp :( i lvoe him hes so sweet:(*

And now during this emotional conversation i switch songs

Embarrassingly enough by boyscott is such a good song to listen to while reading emotional scenes in fics

FUCKK I DIDNT FINISH BEFORE CLASS oh well time to read in class amen, im almost done anyway

OOOHBH GOD THIS MIGUTVE BEEN A MISTAKE I WANNA CRY AT THEIR HUG OHHHHMJGODJDJFJDKD

Ohmygod

Tommy:(

Ohmygor

Ohmgydo

I am not okay

I am not okay

Ooooooohhhh my gosh:((((((

WHERE'S THEIR DAD, WHERE'S PHIL, HE'LL KNOW HOW TO FIX THIS, SURELY

Ooohmygod

ITS NOT THEIR FAULT!!!

Though, them not telling phil and tech about the vision is, but i dont think it would've changed anything ooohmygoodness my heart hurts:(

Bee blz how could u

(This was a fucking amazing chapter though holyshit, this is gonna be one of those scenes i reread over and over again ohmygoddd)

very glad you guys are all liking the song. it's such intense chase scene vibes and I think the electronic beats really makes it perfect for the glass universe. there was another song from the same movie soundtrack I debated listening to but then I tried to write to it and was like hmm no container park is a better track instead

well the mr beast moment is supposed to be an example of the dystopian capitalist hellscape that exists in the glass universe, and dystopian settings are meant to be exaggerated versions of the society we currently live in to point out the flaws so yeah it is commentary lol. I have a lot of feelings regarding mr beast and the contrast between the philanthropic work he does while simultaneously exploiting people's financial struggles for entertainment but that's a discussion for another day

LMAO not listening to the song while running to the bus 😭

I am so sorry for your heart rate very glad it invoked the right emotions though :) I was very smug writing this entire chapter

phil is out having a business meeting he'll get to deal with this mess in the morning

I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed!! I struggled a lot writing this bc I hate writing action scenes as you know, so I kept second guessing if the pace was good or not the entire damn time but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out in the end

[popagan]

Hey there! I was wondering if It was okay to ask for some fic recs? I read your izaya post and already devoured the ones you mentioned 😭

(if not that's okay too!! No pressure, ty ty 🫶🫶)

Gladly. I'll put some fics I have saved in my library, which range from one-shots to longer series. I'll put it in two categories - finished and ongoing(unfinished/abandoned), in word count order (Ascending), as well as a poorly made logline from me for each fic (+ links). I'll also add some additional notes on my end regarding certain (most) fics.

Finished:

5 times Izaya was told I love you (391 words) - The plot is in the title. Shizuo/Izaya.

It's short but sweet(?), I'm a huge fan of writings that uses listing as a form of narrative.

Just to Talk (660 words) - It's Valentine's, and also Tsukumoya-and-Izaya-fighting-in-their-chat day. Tsukumoya/Izaya (implied).

I love Tsukumoya and Izaya's chatlogs, there's something so gossip girls about them. And they bicker like an old married couple (in spirit) as well.

Tsukumoya Shinichi's Turn! (1k words) - Post-ketsu. Tsukumoya reflects on his relationship (as well as feelings) with Izaya.

Very creative writing, I adore their take on Tsukumoya's character.

I Think I Miss Him (1k2 words) - Post-ketsu. Tsukumoya finds Izaya. Tsukumoya/Izaya.

This one hits a particular spot, given the ending is my kind of drill.

Sweet like vanilla pudding (1k6 words) - Shizuo finds a new way to tease Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

Adorable, adorable, adorable. Important things must be repeated thrice.

Izaya's Zoo of the Strange and Unusual (1k8 words) - Shiki got Izaya to be a babysitter for exotic animals. Shiki/Izaya.

Camorra usually writes stories that incorporates fantastical/fairy tale-like elements, to which I absolutely adore, their comedy writing is one of my favorite.

dépaysement (2k2 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya. Healing--compared to other people--takes a different route for Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya (implied).

It isn't a fic recommendation blog from user popagan if I don't mention onewhodiedyoung at least once (I'm sorry). The way onewhodiedyoung write is not something I wanted but something I never knew I needed. A work of art, I say.

I Promise (2k3 words) - History calls it Christmas Eve, Izaya calls it The End, Shizuo/Izaya.

I love this one, mainly the buildup. I think about their take in Izaya's character way too frequently. Kanra_chan writes a lot of interesting stories.

flytrap (3k2 words) - A reflection, a continuation of what could've been and what had happened; as well as what might - or will happen. Shinra/Izaya.

Beautiful writing, enchanted me from start to finish.

venus in furs (3k8 words) - Shizuo-centric. Hanahaki disease and the loved in question is a lover of mankind. Shizuo/Izaya.

I love zigur's writing - especially how they describe Izaya as someone with a surreal kind of beauty. I also love stories told in second pov.

Open Cage (4k2 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya. Healing in a new city, and re-meeting a certain monster. Shizuo/Izaya (implied).

Bittersweet. Gives me chills every time I reread it.

This Is How We End (4k4 words) - Shizuo chose to be better, but that may include letting go of a certain enemy - if impulsivity isn't a problem. Shizuo/Izaya.

Finding TeamAlphaQ's works is like striking gold. My absolute favorite, but their other works may strike your fancy better - subjectivity and all that.

Sub-Zero (4k7 words) - Namie-centric. A secretary bonding with her mentally ill boss. Shizuo/Izaya (implied?).

I can't say a lot without spoiling it, but prepare for heartbreaks maybe. I love Namie and Izaya bonding(?) though. Friendships are the best.

stranger than earth (5k3 words) - Shiki-centric, Shiki/Izaya.

I don't know what else to say other than that it is the whole plot. Beautiful writing, the ship is a bit questionable though (and it's not their writing I have a problem with - far from it; just the nature of said ship strikes me as odd - but AO3 isn't a lawless land for nothing. One must be able to distinguish fiction from reality if one wish to indulge into Internet culture, yes?). Zigur once more, I love Greek myths and there isn't a lot I can defend myself with.

lie me to sleep (6k6 words) - Post-ketsu. Izaya is Shizuo's god.

I'm a bit guilty for referencing Izaya's "You past is your god" but a chance like this is one in a lifetime - I had to do it. The writing is another kind of heartache. This tender melancholy is what kept me afloat in the midst of many agonizing fic (cough April 23rd, laundry, All That Hate cough). Instead of burying me in the dirt, onewhodiedyoung buried me in flowers and let me choke on pollens instead.

Shizuo Vs. Valentine's (7k5 words) - Shizuo wakes up to a Valentine's gift at his door. Shizuo & Izaya.

The comedy found in the established situation left me giddy. Very fun read.

Why I Hate Izaya Orihara: An Essay by Shizuo Heimajiwa (8k2 words) - Shizuo listing out the problems in his life, and that includes Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

TeamAlphaQ strikes again, I love the comedy in this; and once more - listing and repetitions. They're my guilty pleasure it seems.

Clair de Lune (8k1 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya healing. Shizuo/Izaya.

I recommend all of NoteInABottle's works. If I could, I would make a homework out of it for everyone reading this blog here to read all of their work - DRRR or not. But unfortunately I did not read their non-DRRR work so I am not exempted from shame.

Just Walk Down the Aisle Already (9k1 words) - Izaya thinks marriage is nonsensical, Shizuo begs to differ. Shizuo/Izaya.

Kind of Strange (9k2 words) - Izaya is a wish-granting kind of being, Shizuo is not thrilled. Shizuo/Izaya.

kamogawa (9k2 words) - Shizuo, Izaya, Kamogawa; and their years-old feud. Shizuo/Izaya.

Words cannot describe how emotional this made me at 4 in the morning. It was reaching blue hour as well (my favorite hour) - the surrealness and sentiment was overwhelming.

All That Hate (9k5 words) - Izaya-centric. Like all things, it comes to an end. Shizuo/Izaya (one-sided).

It is in the tags so I'll reiterate - it is a heartbreaker, this fic. And I am positively eating this up. The last few lines took my heart and ran over it with a Caterpillar 320D L Hydraulic Excavator.

laundry (9k8 words) - Shizuo-centric. Shizuo finds Izaya in all the odd hours of this rundown laundry establishment.

Well, all I can say is that my jaw was on the floor. I recommend all of izayas's DRRR work, though. til the war's won (10k words) is another favorite of mine.

Time; Between Spaces (16k words) - A strange amnesiac Shizuo and a stranger Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

An interesting take on Izaya as a character, never failed to give my stomach butterflies. Their writing is so endearing, reminds me of high school love stories in a way (unsure how and why). Silly Shizaya, oh so silly.

Ice like Glass (23k words) - Izaya tries to win over a Winter Fairy - a Fairy Prince might I add. Shiki/Izaya.

Under the Surface (23k words) - Buried (2010) with Shizuo and Izaya bonding.

An enjoyable ride, for the characters maybe not so much.

see you on the other side; (28k words) - Between slip-ups, there are gaps in their relationship--one of which is a busted skull. Shizuo/Izaya.

The first two chapters gave me a slap which had me spinning 5 times in the air and land on my back - crashing into a comically large pool of my own tears. Proud to say I've been here since chapter 1 (sobbing).

Telescope Now (40k words) - A concussion turned wrong. Shizuo/Izaya.

It was a rollercoaster-of-emotions experience reading this fic. Certain lines had me silently scream into thin air and sob into my pillows.

Viewpoint (43k words) - Namie-centric, as well as Shizuo/Namie, Izaya/Namie, and implied Shizuo/Izaya.

I think you'll have to find out by reading it, I'm unsure how I can explain this without giving the plot away. Fairly intriguing; major spoilers ahead - I'm a bit bummed out the Shizuo & Izaya chapter never released, and also a tad more bummed out it didn't end as polyamory. Nevertheless, wonderful work, beautiful analysis into Namie as a character.

The Fox and the Samurai (127k words) - Izaya is a fox spirit and Shizuo is a samurai tasked to kill him.

Very interesting, I love old/medieval themes. Was delighted at the ending.

Ongoing/Unfinished:

Disney Stories, As Told By The Cast Of Durarara!! (1k6 words) - DRRR casts in Disney stories. Shizuo/Izaya.

Endlessly entertaining. Interesting idea, shame it never continued. Would've love to see Cinderella Izaya/Shizuo.

elevator ego. (11k words) - Someone wants Izaya gone, and it'll take a friend and an enemy to do that. Shizuo/Izaya and Shinra/Izaya (apparently).

Kept me at the edge of my seat, unfortunately I'll never get to see the end of it. The last two chapters will remain as one of my life's biggest mystery.

Toes (12k words) - Post-ketsu. Shinra and Shizuo looks for Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

Was hooked since the synopsis. I adore the story, would've love to see more.

In a Week (18k words) - In which Shizuo is a priest assigned to a small countryside community, and Izaya is a vampire. Shizuo/izaya.

I love the story established here, hoping to see more. It was updated a month ago.

When It Counts (23k words) - Darkwood-esque (stated in tags). Doomsday-like, infestations, forests, and also a dying Izaya it seems. Shizuo/Izaya.

Interesting concept. Looking forward to the next chapter. I enjoy adversities and doomsdays fics (procrastinating on other zombie apocalypse Shizaya fics as I'm writing this). It's rather humorous at times as well - that or I'm coping.

Go To Hell (45k words) - Medieval theme. Izaya finds himself in another world with his memories tampered. Shizuo/Izaya.

Takes place in Hell (quite literally). Interesting concept, I love the imageries. I might draw something for this fic after I've cleared commissions. It's still starting and establishing its plot and I can't wait for a new chapter to come by this Saturday (if things go smoothly on their end).

City of Sunshine (59k words) - An OC who had been transferred to Ikebukuro. What's worse - it's in an anime as well.

I love stories where characters are pushed into a world that was a media they've consumed before. I really wish to see more of this, seeing I got attached to said character haha. Furthermore, nothing hooks me up more than a character befriending everyone and just trying to navigate in their newfound environment. I really hope to find more work like these - I'm a believer of all DRRR casts x fun times/friendships lol. Back to this fic - I love how they incorporate their own character with the DRRR storyline; slice of life + overarching storyline/personal character goals? Count me in.

Ophidian (104k words) - In which Izaya is Shizuo's yokai companion and they fight other spirits together. Shizuo/Izaya(?).

I'm not sure if it'll get another update - I hope it will. I'm loving the energy this fic has created in the studio today. Beautiful imageries; the amount of research and dedication that might've gone into this fic is commendable.

Impostor (130k words) - Medieval theme. To which Izaya has to fake being a woman to marry the king (Shizuo). Shizuo/Izaya.

There are a lot of things I love - medieval themes being one of them. I can't fight the allegations on my part here. I love Shirohimesstories, they're the reason I check AO3 every Saturday with their 5 ongoing Shizaya fics. Chapter 25 and 26 gave my heart a good squeeze.

I think that's all I could remember/find for now. I've only rejoined the fandom and started reading this February (it took me years to realize I could try and look for DRRR fics on AO3). And I'm barely through page 30 on the DRRR (truthfully - only Izaya Orihara tags) works page and there are still more works I'm finding amongst those 30 pages. I've also been writing this blog for way longer than I would like to, so I'll stop here.

I apologise to all the authors whose works have been mentioned here - not out of ill will or so, but rather because I did not leave a comment in most of them (and I wish I could leave more than one kudos). Please take this entire blog site as an apology (I'm not sure if it's enough/worthy to be regarded as compensation). I should make it a habit to leave a comment soon, I get too shy when I'm about to press post and it's hard to find the proper words to compliment people's works without making it sound repetitive/reused.

Regardless, I've held you (yes, you) for way too long, haha. Thank you for sparing your time reading this poorly-made tangent I've been on. For the ask - I apologise it took so long, I have no defense. I hope you enjoy the fics I recommend here.

Also, Izaya birthday merch dropped, on april 23rd (for some people--it's me. I am people). Here's to all the broken hearts and drained wallets.

[semimedieval]

some addendums

"Rim! But that's actually a fake name, a code name if you like. Cause names have power so you don't just want go and give your name away to everybody" wait i did not fuuuucking know this line that rim says in 2.0 is fucking attributable back to 1.0 and to moopy. wow.

2. THE BOYS ARE FIGHTINGGGG

WOLFLOVER21: (Hey guys hard to say this but I don't think I can keep up with this fast pace!) SCRATCHLOVER999: I can hardly keep up too. TOESOCKSQUEEN: It only takes like 5 minutes to reread things. :) RASSBERRYCALLING: Hey my caras practically the main one right now and even the pace is so fast, I ain't top dog any more.

everyone is showing themselves excellently here. my own comments, if any existed, have been lost to scratch 2.0 update selective deletion. jack wins "scariest" - his 12 year old self's "i'm going to put a smiley face at the end of something kinda mean" strats scare me to this day. rp structure precludes "main characters", the word augustine is looking for is "plot driver", but we appreciate his diplomacy in reaching out to the other team. the katia jack and augustine school of friend group beef: "when you guys are being mean to virginia it is for petty and ridiculous reasons and you should apologize right now. when i am being mean to virginia my rage is holy and righteous and it is the only reasonable thing to be doing." so it continued for like two whole years.

3. rim asking monoceros "did you burn down goatville and if so why" was deeply embarrassing to me even at the time because my ass did NOT have a good answer for him

4. monoceros says he "used a fire extranei" to set fire to goatville, a fact that never reoccurs and is worth considering as an alternate plot for adventure 3.3 but i'm on the fence

5. captain pathetic perking up when he hears vague reaffirmations that his girlfriend has not dumped him yet (she has expressed no intention of doing so)

Chuji turned her attention away from James and quietly walked across the room. "Quartz honestly.. You torture my obsidian to much." she giggled. Obsidian perked up slightly and smiled at Chuji.

Also: this follows a completely insipid argument between obsidian and quartz that (if you adjust for Bad Writing Behaviors) reveals sad and real things about Quartz being very afraid of anything bad happening, from death to mild inconvenience, to the only family she has left. And also: "tozi stared at the wall, wanting them to shut up." omg the boys are fightinggggg what will happen????

6. as a final note before i start reading this summary of contributions: checking in with the quartz and spark show.

"Are you okay?" She placed the back of her hand on Quartz's forehead. "Nope. Not a fever." "Nothing like that," she muttered. "Just a bad mood..." "What is it? You can tell me. We're best friends remember?" She grinned. "Of course. But don't tell anyone." Quartz looked down. "I acted like a bit of an idiot in the morning today, sort of overreacted." she began. "But it gets the message across.. I'm worried about Obsidian. He's the only family I have left, and I love him more than anyone on earth." "He used to be so happy, but now....It's Chuji isn't it?" "Maybe," she replied, kicking moodily at a stone. "Tozi, that is. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's back,but... Well, Obsidian had always reacted to Tozi in strange ways. Ever since he came." Spark looked at the ground. She loved Tozi, but knew it would never work out. He loved Chuji and that was the way things were. Quartz glanced sideways at her. "We're wallowing in self-pity, Spark," she laughed. "BACON!" Spark giggled. Love wasn't everything, she still had a great best friend.

Then they yell a bunch of other ~omgeh so random X3~ words like "biscuits" and "totoro" because sometimes they are mild to moderate self inserts of how jack and katia see themselves at age 12. and within that context, it's quite sweet. the end <3 next time on the ill advised aote reread: the infamous poppyworth scene, and then OMG! LUPUS AND KY BROKE UP LAST NIGHT

[papermachedragons]

you can tell me to buzz off if you like but it sounds like you could use taking a step back from fic ideas, or trying to get a handle on them at least. sometimes putting a lot of pressure on yourself to write and produce fantastic works can kill off creativity more than just not writing at all. if something sticks, then that's brilliant and you can give it a go. if it doesn't get finished because something else sticks instead, that's okay! half a fic at least means you've got something to come back to or pilfer from for other fics. equally, if nothing sticks and ideas continue to come in tidal waves that you can't break through, then let them wash over you. it's alright to take some time to reset, especially if it's stressing you out a lot. sending virtual hugs if you like them and hoping your sleep schedule gets less out of whack soon 💛

Hey <3 <3

Yeah, you pretty much hit everything right on the head.

I think this came about because I tried to take a step back from fic writing, but not a big enough step? Like I got top surgery in march and in the week leading up to that and the two months following post op, I very deliberately took a break from writing. Did not write at all. Barely even thought about it and forced myself to not even read anything I'd written previously. To take care of myself and my chronic illness and give myself the best chance at recovery without excarbating my chronic illness or aggravating my healing scars.

Now on month 3 of not writing, I'm in this hell of not being able to focus on the long fic I'm writing. Like I can't get my mind to focus at all on this baby. So I go, well, I could work on my other wips and maybe they could get me out of my writing slump and my brainfog unfocus hell. But I don't pick just one fic. I just sorta,,, muddle about all of them. Not that I'm coming up with new fic ideas, just bouncing between old wips all the time (and one, just 1, new fic idea for a new fandom that came unpromted) but then in the middle of that muddling about, my brain goes, "hey hey hey you want to write original stories too, right? Like you want to be a published author and write books and all that?? Have you worked on those original ideas lately? Well, shouldn't you be doing that, then? Hey hey hey what about taking a break from all that fanfiction and trying to work on these plots to these original stories? Wouldn't that be so fun???" And that's where this tsunami of fics and stories come from. It's just this massive wave of fics and original story ideas overwhelming me because I'm trying to work on all of them, and it just paralyses me, so I can't write at all

But yeah, you're definitely right. I'm definitely putting pressure on myself, too. I especially get really stuck on pressuring myself to write when two or three (or more) months pass where I'm unable to write/don't write anything. So you're right on the nose that I'm pressuring myself. Which also just excarbates the issue of tsunami fics and ideas without me just picking one to focus on

I also haven't read an actual book in months. Mainly because of aforementioned pressuring myself to write. It's like I'm pressuring myself to the point where I can't do anything else, because if I'm spending time reading books, then I'm not even trying to write and that's not allowed and im wasting time, and i can't do that, i have to write, i have to write, I can't just spend all my time reading or watching movies even though I need to take an actual break and my body needs to lay back and relax because my chronic illness is screaming at me today but I can't do that because I need to write

And it's so severe and all-encompassing that it makes me feel guilty for picking up an actual book, even though reading is a vital part of writing. So I think I'm gonna force myself to chill out with writing and read some books. I've been wanting to reread Perry Jackson the last while, so I think I'll read that series. It's nice and easy for me to read because of the writing style and I've read it before, which is exactly what I need when I'm in unfocus brainfoggy hell. And hey, this time I can even wear my camp half-blood t shirt because I chopped my tits off, it's a win win.

And thank you for the virtual hug! I'm sending the warmest of hugs right back to you! 💛🌻

[echoesagain]

#8

Don’t often include trigger warnings but this includes (mild) self-harm and mental health shit. You’ve been warned

Probably going to be a long one this time. It’s been a while since the last one (at least it’s felt like ages), doesn’t affect much anyway. Uni exams all done, my time is coming to an end for first year. Back home, smiles, drinks and making more drunk mistakes- what more could a 19 year old physics student want?

So, a lot of shit has happened, as you’d expect. I got a very interesting book called Radio Silence by Alice Oseman and holy fuck, did it wreck me. For context, the only other Oseman content I had read before this was Heartstopper (web-comic then netflix show) and I thought it was alright, loved the art style. But, wow, she writes incredibly. I haven’t cried in over a decade and that book made me have to hold back full on sobs. I had to put it down several times to curl up into a ball and try and block out the avalanche of noise, the tirade of life bearing down on me. I am convinced I had some kind of mental episode as I ended up balling up a fist and pounding it into my desk again and again until the feeling of air on my knuckles caused me to wince, the mere idea of twitching a finger caused me agony.

Quick break- I am not mentally ill. I have never exhibited any mental symptoms before this nor since. I can’t explain why or justify myself, I just felt the urge to let it all out while reading it. In that sense, Radio Silence was one of the most cathartic books I’ve ever read. I promptly bought Solitaire and Loveless and read them in similar “all-at-once” fashions but without the whole going completely fucking insane. Reading this all back, I seem like a troll or an attention-seeker. I promise, I am only the latter, my previous posts are more than enough evidence of that. The worst part is, I don’t know exactly what about Radio Silence caused it to happen. I don’t relate to any of the characters that much (no more than other fictitious characters) and the plot has no resemblance of my life or experiences other than I’m a first year uni student.

It scared me. I scared me. It was such a rush of emotions from nothing and, believe me, I have reread that book three times in as many days (and yes, I got it three days ago). I have had similar reactions each time but I managed to avoid pulping my fist on each re-read. I have found no particular character, plot development or even sentence that had any cause to distress me so. All I know is, that book causes me to slowly build tension in my body until it all comes out and ruins me. I didn’t sleep at all yesterday and I’m writing this at 1:05 am at the uni football pitches working on around 40 hours since I last slept.

For christs sake, I relate to Georgia Warr more than Aled, Frances or Daniel yet for some fucking reason, I can’t let it go. Yeah, apologies that this blog became a kind of fucked up book review/ rant. For what it’s worth, the book is incredible and I cannot describe my experience as negative, only very confusing but very, very interesting. 9/10 because I cannot justify self harm.

Now, I’m forced to question my mental health. I’m hoping it was just a one-off, freak accident caused by decades of bottling up my emotions (#toxicmasculinityftw) but I can’t call myself a self- respecting physicist and write something off as a “random error”, especially when that something is as big as this. Maybe I do relate to Frances or Aled or Daniel more than I thought I did and I just didn’t realise it. Maybe I just got so immersed in the writing style that I just felt so empathetic towards the characters (especially Aled) that I couldn’t help it? Honestly, who knows and, frankly, speculation on a bench at 1:13 am will get me no where. I passed several parties of people on my way here, all presumably celebrating exams end and I couldn’t help but wonder if I envied them or if I’d sooner shoot myself than be in such an environment. Maybe it’s all to do with company.

Sorry, getting too speculative again. All I know is, I need to read Radio Silence again, Alice Oseman is a phenomenal writer and their writing style is just so relatable (maybe that’s how 50’s kids felt when they read Catcher in the Rye? Idk, I enjoyed it but the writing was “so phony” and it “killed me”). Regardless, more research is needed, I’ve never felt more confused (and that’s coming from someone who still isn’t sure of their sexuality) and I need some chips. Until next time!