#my resolution this year is just to learn how to sit back and say

[strohller27]

.

[oraltraditionfiction]

Us | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (angst)

Summary: Snippets of you and Quinn's secret relationship, and the aftermath.

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, ambiguous ending, sad Quinn, anxious reader etc

WC: 1.8k

Author's Note: !!! This is fully inspired by us by Gracie Abrams (which has been on repeat for like. 4 days now. absolute banger.) This is pretty angsty 😭 I apologize in advance I think I was just really in the mood for some pain.

This has an ambiguous ending (for the most part) but I do have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested! Anyways, enjoy! - 🐇

(I'd also like to note that the italicized poetry is taken from Crush by Richard Siken, and Leaping Poetry by Robert Bly!)

I know your ghost, I see her through the smoke, She'll play her show

And you'll be watchin'

He caught himself watching you again. It had been habit for so long now. Checking on her from the corner of his eye. He had learned to act in such a way that it was hard to tell he was stealing a glance at her. Her. He needed to snap out of it. 

He looked straight ahead, steadfast in his resolution to break old patterns. He could hear her from the end of the hall. She was briefing one of his teammates on the video they were about to film.

“I know this is hard but please try not to swear, at least not too much. The timbre of her laugh, echoing down the hall. Quinn  knew without looking at her that she was checking her phone. Her disorganized notes app, full of spare ideas for videos and poems that came to her during the twilight hours. “Oh! I know this is obvious but, try not to talk about anything personal that you or a teammate wouldn’t want 400 teenagers online to know.”  He watched from lowered lids as she brushed past him, a slight hesitation in her steps as her shoulder brushed against him. “That stuff’s just hard to edit out-“ her voice trailed off as they turned a corner. The reverb of her warm murmur echoing back to him, taunting him. He just knew she was reminding Brock not to talk about anything personal because of him. 

He scuffed his covered skate against the worn floor. Tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and imagined that he was waiting for her to walk with him, instead of someone else.

Wonder if you regret the secret

Of us, us

He could remember the first wrong turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell anyone?” He had asked, confused, thumb stroking against her pulse point soothingly as she cradled his face. 

“Quinn…” she had sighed, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable sitting on her old patterned couch. He kissed her palm, a small comfort.

“I mean, you’ve seen the weird shit people can comment about the wags.” He nodded. “Imagine just seeing that all day. All that negativity. And it’s just your job to navigate that and delete it. I’ve seen awful things about some of these women.” She swallowed, slipping her hand away from his cheek. He missed the warmth immediately, absently leaning into her orbit to make up for it. “I just,.. I don’t know what I would do. Knowing that people were saying those things about me.”

Quinn understood. Honestly the thought of seeing those kinds of things said about her…

Yeah. He could keep a secret for a few more months.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Quinn said, folding her into his arms. “We can keep it quiet for a little bit longer. Just until you’re comfortable.” He could feel her melt into him, relaxing at his agreement. Once she was more comfortable with the idea of them, he thought she wouldn’t mind what people would say.

It felt like what I've known

You're twenty-nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open my home?

Quinn  placed the last box on the bedroom floor, lovingly labeled “poetry <3”. As he gingerly cut through the packing tape, he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

“You don’t need to knock,” he laughed, turning his head so he could look at her. 

“I mean, it’s your house still-“ she said, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. Quinn stood, fondly shaking his head as he approached her.

“Your house too now, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around his girl, and swaying from side to side. 

“I just don’t want it to be too soon Quinn. It’s only been like, a year.” Shesaid, tense in his arms. 

“Mi casa es tu casa, right?” he said jokingly, trying to get the woman in his arms to relax. 

She laughed, encapsulating the room in warmth again. They melted into each other, the tension evaporating. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Quinny.” Murmured softly into his shoulder.

Quinn hugged her tighter, trying to forge them together, “you could never make me uncomfortable,” he said as he placed his cheek atop her head. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And as he said that to her, he knew it to be true. This love was different, quiet— almost sacred.

And if history's clear, the flames always end up in ashes

And what seemed like fate

Give it ten months and you'll be past it (you'll be past it)

He knew it had to move at some point. Every morning it confronted him, like a ghoul living in his sock drawer. Quinn reached for the intruder, thumb brushing against delicate blue velvet as he withdrew the small ring box from its hiding place. The man sighed as he flipped it open once again. The light reflecting off of the diamond and shining small, nebulous glimmers of light across his tired face. 

A click as he closed the box, the sound of a sharp thump. The little blue box landed somewhere amongst the debris on your abandoned side of the closet. It had been nearly 10 months. Out of sight, out of mind.

That night you were talkin'

False prophets and profits

They make in the margins

Of poetry sonnets

Quinn watched, transfixed as you read aloud to him. His head sat heavily on her thighs, savoring the feeling of her hand touching his hair absentmindedly. The words nearly escaped him, too immersed in the way her sweet lips shaped the words. Nectar falling from her mouth as she kept the meter.

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said-“

“Marry me.”

It was spoken on the breath of a sigh. Nearly inaudible. Still, the room seemed to lose some of its color. 

“What?” You whispered, hand withdrawing from his hair, leaving an inexplicable dread lingering around his heart.

Quinn sat up, nose brushing hers. “I meant it.” He reached for her hand, shaking and limp in her lap. “Marry me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He breathed out as he looked into her eyes earnestly. 

“I-“

“I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want anyone to know about us.” The man said, placing her hand on his heart, cradling it gently. “But I don’t care! I would marry you right this second if I could.” He leaned his forehead against her temple, murmuring “just you and me, baby. No one has to know. I would marry you in secret, as long as it means you’re  mine.” Quinn was rambling now, but he’d do anything to convince her. “I already have a ring and-“

His hand landed unceremoniously in his lap. 

Before he could reach out, before he could even breathe, she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.”

And Quinn felt like he would never breathe again, staring across the room at his sock drawer and the now open door to what was once their bedroom.

Robert Bly on my nightstand

Gifts from you, how ironic

Three drinks in, and Quinn was conquering his fears. There was 11 months of dust buildup on the slim book, still clinging to the paperback cover. He thumbed it open, nearly caving in and going back for another drink as he glimpsed the tail end of the note you had left for him underneath the title page. 

“- hoping these poems will remind you of me when we’re apart.

Love you lots,

Yours-“

He flipped to another page, hoping to find something he hated enough that he could find the strength to finally throw this book out.

“Longing to find her in a phrase, and be close-“

Quinn closed the book.

Mistaken for strangers, the way it

Was, was

The moment he was  dreading was here. You approached him after practice, quietly waiting for the rest of the team to file past. You toyed with your phone anxiously, “Is it alright if I grab you for a quick video?” She looked as tired as he felt these days. He just stood, gazing at her, responding with a  slow nod. She smiled, relieved. Quinn had almost forgotten what it looked like in person. Still a such a sweet sight. 

He leaned in slightly, irresistant to the gravity of your presence. As you opened your mouth to speak, lips quirked up into a private grin, a voice came from behind him.

One of the new girls on the social media team. She smiled as she approached. “I didn't realise you two were close! Guess it’s something to look forward to, huh?”

You forced a laugh saying, “Well, when you work with someone for two years, you get about as close as coworkers can get.”

Quinn’s spine straightened, in no mood for media duties now. He thought of the ring box, and all the photos he still had yet to delete. The stolen kisses in supply closets, the notes you left him in the margins of your favorite poetry books, highlighting secret code in between the stanzas 

(“O love,  where are you leading me now?”). The words of her favorite poem echoed in his head, “As close as coworkers can get” 

He mumbled something about putting his gear away as he brushed past you, no longer recognizing the foreign way your shoulder bumped against his.

Do you miss us, us? (Us, us, us)

The best kind, well, sometimes

Do you miss us?

He stood, leaning against his counter, trying to decide the best way to respond to this text. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the cardboard box full of miscellaneous objects to donate, the creased cover of a poetry book peaking out.

He made his decision.

A blind date sounds great! Is she free Friday?

[breelandwalker]

Wolf Moon - January 13 2025

Shake off the cold and sing to the sky, witches - it’s time for the Wolf Moon!

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of January. The name is said to be derived from the sound of wolves howling with hunger while prey is scarce in the midst of winter. Given that we now know that wolves howl mostly for communication, my personal opinion is that people huddled in their homes during a very dark and dangerous time of year probably noticed these sounds a lot more readily with little else to occupy their time as they waited out the winter, and thus were set to worrying about ravenous beasts invading their villages and farmsteads. (It’s worth noting that wolves preying on livestock was a very real concern for most people outside major cities for many centuries, so this isn’t entirely unfounded.)

The name also calls to mind the howling of the wind during winter storms, or whistling around the eaves during the long cold nights. And for those of us who might not have been careful with our spending over the holidays, I might cite a tongue-in-cheek reference to the wolves being at the door when those credit card bills come due.

[For those not familiar with the English phrase, to have “a wolf at the door” is a saying that refers to some imminent hardship or disaster. In modern parlance, this is usually applied to poor finances or looming bankruptcy.]

This month, the moon peaks at 5:27pm EST on Monday January 13th, so the moon may appear to be full on the nights of the 12th or 13th, depending on where you are in the world.

Some North American indigenous names for the month of January and its’ moon are Cold Moon (Cree), Center Moon (Assiniboine), Severe Moon (Dakota), Ice Moon (Catawba), and Spirit Moon (Ojibwe). Other names include Mantis Moon (South African origins), Quiet Moon (Celtic), and Moon After Yule (Anglo-Saxon).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As a new year dawns, it’s time for rest and reflection before we set out on the next phase of our journey. While the cold weather lingers, take some time to sit by the fire, literally or metaphorically, and take stock of where you stand, what resources are available, and what you plan to do with them.

Check in with your near-and-dear following the mad rush of the holiday season as well. Make sure that friends, family, and community members around you are doing all right. Offer support and kindness where you can, but don’t overextend yourself. It’s your time to recuperate too, and it is good and healthy to set boundaries which allow time and space for yourself.

While it's a bit early to expect progress on our goals and resolutions, the beginning of a new calendar year is a good time to lay the foundation for what we intend to do with the year to come and to reflect on the year that has just ended. It's also the perfect time for self-assessment in your craft. Take a moment to acknowledge where you are, how you've grown, and what you might like to do next. Perhaps do some journaling on the subject, if you're so inclined. You can outline your craft knowledge and beliefs, mark the lessons you've learned, or record your progress. (This is a great way to measure future milestones and personal growth!)

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Winter is a prime time for storytelling. Back in the days before internet or television or radio, people would often read to each other or tell tales to pass the time. Consider re-reading a favorite book that inspires you or exploring some region of folklore or mythology you’ve been meaning to look into. If you have children who are of an age to enjoy stories, read them some of your favorites or introduce them to something new. Share stories and discussions with your witchy circle too!

While you’re at it, take a moment to examine the role that folklore and stories play in your practice. If you subscribe to a particular mythos, be it through deities or just general belief, consider which parts of it resonate the most with you and why.

Consider also the lessons of the winter season - the necessity of rest between periods of growth and activity, and the role of death, cold, and darkness in the natural cycles of life. What do these things mean to you and your practice? Are they a source of fear or fascination? Do you come alive in the winter or bundle up and wait for spring? How can you best remind yourself to pause for breath as the year goes on?

And of course, the beginning of a new year is an excellent time for goal-setting and divination. You’re making resolutions for your mundane life, so make a few for your craft while you’re at it, and pull out your cards or runes or pendulum for a New Year forecast on how things might go. If you need some ideas or inspiration, you can check out this article on Casting The Bones or try this craft-building exercise to Create Your Own Personal Runes.

Happy Wolf Moon, witches! 🐺🌕

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Wolf Moon: Full Moon in January, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Why The 2025 January Wolf Moon Is So Insanely Powerful, The Peculiar Brunette.

Casting The Bones: How to Read and Throw Bones, The Peculiar Brunette.

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Your Own Runes, Bree NicGarran. (Masterlist here)

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2025

Calendar-12 - 2025 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Source: What Is A Wolf Moon?, The Fact Site.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[teatreeoilll]

Hollow (Gojo Satoru X Reader) - [Part I (RED)]

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • .

w/c - 1.3k content - fem!reader, not proofread (I'm sorry it's just soo late rn), child!reader (in this part), horrible parenting, mild swearing I guess?

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . °

When you were four years old, Gojo Satoru, despite being only two years older, looked at you for the first time with nothing but disdain in his cold blue eyes.

As a result, enraged by this look, you furrowed your brows, pointed a finger straight at his face, and fearlessly labeled him, "Asshole."

"Where'd you learn that word?" Your mother shrieked behind you as she yanked on your ear, twisting it enough for a sharp pain to follow suit. "You will apologize to the heir of the Gojo clan." She demanded through gritted teeth. "Right now, you hear me, brat?"

So you did, with your mother pushing your head down in a deep bow before the uninterested boy, ignoring how your tears stained the walkway leading to the Gojo estate. "I'm sorry," you sniffled, managing to raise your gaze just enough to see his indifferent expression mocking your suffering, causing you to mutter asshole over and over again under your breath.

-

Only two years later, your mother's relentless determination secured an invitation back to the Gojo estate. You resisted, knuckles turning white from clinging to the car door while your mother's patience wore thin, "You'll go in and make friends with him, you ungrateful child!"

Everything inside the estate was too grand, too expensive, and about as warm and welcoming as the glass of a museum display.

You sat and watched your mother's behavior change acutely in the presence of the older Gojos, engaging them in polite conversation over the dinner table while the heir himself caught your gaze, holding a boiling teapot in his hand.

Mesmerized, you watched as he poured a searing stream of tea over the back of his palm, the liquid slipping off like water off a duck's back, leaving no trace of damage or wetness on his hand.

Seeing this as a challenge, you grabbed another teapot from the table, tilting it hastily over your palm. A cry of pain tore through your lips as you hurled the teapot away, watching the porcelain shatter beneath your feet as you clutched onto the freshly forming burn.

"I am so sorry!" Your mother's muffled apologies filled the room, the size of it giving them a cathedral-sized echo. "Apologize." She ordered from beneath your feet, picking up the porcelain pieces while you stared blankly at the tea dripping between the wooden boards, wondering where it was going.

Your mother loomed over you in the kitchen, wrapping a bandage over your burn, "Why was I cursed with such a useless child? When will you understand it's for your own good? If they don't increase the funds for our company.." A defeated laugh came out of her mouth when you whinced at the tightening gauze. "What am I even explaining to you?"

"I don't know, mama."

"Listen, do you like your dresses?" And you nod obediently, thinking of the floral patterns on the fabrics in your closet, "Your shoes? Your food? The friends at your pompous school?"

"Pom-pous?" You mumble, trying to interpret what the word could mean.

"Do you?"

"I do." You concur, still not quite following.

"Then you'll be nice to that boy, do you understand? Smile when you see him, laugh when he says something funny; hell, do whatever he tells you to."

You sit back at the dinner table, moving the chair so roughly towards Satoru that his eyes narrow at the scraping sound it makes. You sit on the chair obediently, informing him proudly, "Mama told me to do whatever you tell me to."

"Your mama said that because she wants something from my parents." He announces, watching his parents get swallowed back into spewing pleasantries.

"M-hmm," you nod resolutely, "She says she wants an increase of fun." Satoru blinks slowly at your words, and you place your hands on your knees, directing a blank stare at the wall at the far end of the room.

A few minutes pass before the heir finally interrogates, "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want me to do."

"Alright," He pulls you by the sleeve away from the table, getting his parents' attention by merely standing up and their approval by lightly nodding his head. You throw a look at your mother, to which she smiles, mouthing 'good girl' before returning to her discourse.

"Where are we going?" You inquire. He had long since stopped tugging at your sleeve, but you followed him out of the estate like a lost puppy regardless, beginning to feel restless at the unfamiliar streets growing dark around you.

"To do something I want to do."

-

"Takahiro's Con-ve-ni-ence?" you read aloud the letters printed on the shop window, sending a puzzled stare to the boy next to you.

"You like sweets?" Satoru asks, the light from the shop window brightening only half his face; the shadows formed on the other half making him look severe.

You shake your head, "I like salty."

"Then you haven't tried enough sweets." The boy looked almost offended at the shake of your head. The thought of your mother's resentful look had passed through your mind, making you shudder.

"I like sweet."

"Is it sweet or salty then?" The boy furrowed his brows, already halfway through the door into the shop, "Never mind, just wait here."

You watched him through the transparent windows, disappearing into an aisle and reappearing from the other end. Time stretched out excruciatingly as you watched the strokes of the light from the store trying to push away the darkness of the buildings on the other side of the road.

"Girl," a voice muttered, "girl, girl, girl, girl," you swore you saw a twitching figure in a building's window. You looked around, making sure you were, in fact, the only girl in the vicinity.

You pointed a tiny finger at yourself, gazing straight at the window, mouthing, 'Me?'

"Yes, child." The voice wobbled, "Child, child, child."

You cough, your throat sore from the frosty air you'd breathed in while walking, "Do you need help?"

"Yes. Help. Help, help." The voice rasped, louder now. You squinted at the window, the figure still at the same spot, strange hands caressing the cold, slippery glass.

"Where are you?" The inside of the building was pitch black. The light from the shop failed to reach the large doorway, but you told yourself that you should be fine as long as you feel its presence at your back. "If it's dark, you sing, yes? Keeps them away, the bastards." You remember your mother's words, humming a tune under your breath.

"Help. Help. Help, child." But the stairs seem dangerous, and your throat is too sore to keep humming; an eerie gust of wind from a crack in the wall makes you fumble back a few steps before you thump on your behind. The presence draws in, a nightmarish being that engulfs the room whole, a hint of light reflecting on its sharpened teeth.

Footsteps. A pull on the collar of your shirt. A burning sensation on your thigh from grazing the floor. A harsh breath and a word; "Red."

"Red," the boy repeated, "red!" louder now, taking a spot before you, one arm extended before him, "red!" the scream is a desperate plea, "crap, get up!" He turns swiftly, still shaking his arm as if trying to rid it of a bug, "D'you want to be dinner?"

You shake your head, feeling your knees give in, too weak and trembling to hold an entire body, no matter how small. The being still looms over, feeding on the powerlessness to approach.

Satoru grabs your arm, pulling on it harshly to get you on your feet, and runs. You pass the doorway, catching a glimpse of a plastic bag lying outside the building, pieces of candy sprawled on the concrete around it. Your shoe sinks on a chocolate bar, flattening it; you almost lose your balance, close to slipping on the wrapper if not the iron grip on your arm.

Finally settled on a bench beneath a street lamp at the edge of the Gojo estate, you find the strength to inquire, "Your magic spell didn't work?"

Taken aback, Gojo grumbled, "Yeah, but I'll make it work, next time."

"Next time?" you wonder aloud, "Do you see monsters often?"

"Let's get inside, your mother must be worried."

-

You only see Gojo Satoru again seven years later.

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Genre: Romance, Bittersweet Angst, Long Distance, Slow Burn Warnings: Separation, Longing, Time Skip, Emotional Scenes, Idol Life Struggles, Nostalgia, Bittersweet Tension, Comforting Resolution

Note: I tried to write this as best I can but I got stuck in the middle ig? Like I don't know how to end it and stuff but in the end I still put the ending hihi...

---

The city skyline shimmered under a blanket of stars, casting silver reflections on the quiet river below. Felix stood at the edge of the bridge, his fingers wrapped around the railing as the cool night breeze tousled his golden hair

Tonight was the night he had to say goodbye.

"You're really leaving?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood beside him. Your heart felt heavy, knowing that Felix had always dreamt of traveling the world, chasing his passion for photography and storytelling.

Felix turned to you, his eyes deep pools of regret and longing. "Yeah… I have to," he murmured, his fingers twitching at his sides. "But I don't want to leave you behind."

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I always knew this day would come. I just… I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon."

For years, Felix had been your best friend, your safe place, your laughter on the darkest days. But now, the chapter you had written together was coming to a close.

---

You met Felix when you were eight years old. He had just moved to your neighborhood, a boy with bright freckles, a mischievous grin, and a skateboard that he swore could fly if he pushed hard enough. From the moment he scraped his knee and you rushed to get him a bandage, you were inseparable.

"You’re my best friend now," he declared, sitting on the pavement as you gently pressed the bandage over his wound. "Forever, okay?"

You giggled. "Okay. Forever."

The years that followed were filled with endless adventures—racing bikes until sundown, sneaking cookies from your mom’s kitchen, and lying on the rooftop, counting stars while whispering dreams about the future.

"One day," Felix had said, his voice soft in the night air, "I’m going to travel the world and take pictures of everything. And you’ll be there with me."

---

It wasn’t a grand moment. No dramatic realization, no sudden epiphany. It was quiet—like a secret you had known all along.

You had been sick with a fever, shivering under a pile of blankets when Felix showed up at your doorstep with a bag full of soup, medicine, and your favorite snacks.

"You look awful," he teased, setting the food down beside your bed before pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. "You should’ve called me."

"Didn’t want to bother you," you mumbled.

Felix scoffed. "Bother me? You could call me at 3 AM and I’d still show up."

And that was when it hit you.

You loved him.

Not just as your best friend. Not just as the boy you grew up with. But as the person you wanted by your side for the rest of your life.

But before you could tell him, before you could figure out what to do with the realization, he was already chasing his dreams, leaving you behind.

---

Felix reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. "This is for you," he said, pressing it into your palm. "Don't open it yet. Open it when you really miss me."

Tears stung your eyes as you clutched the paper, your fingers trembling. "Felix…"

He pulled you into his arms, his warmth soaking into your skin, his scent of vanilla and sea breeze imprinting in your memory. "I’ll come back for you," he whispered against your hair. "No matter what. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

---

The city hadn’t changed much, but you had.

You had learned to live without Felix, but that didn’t mean the ache had disappeared. You never opened the letter. It sat in your drawer, untouched, like a frozen moment in time.

Tonight, as you walked along the same bridge, you felt the nostalgia creep in. The way the stars shimmered above, the soft hum of the water below—it was all the same. But you were alone.

With a deep breath, you finally unfolded the letter.

*If you're reading this, it means you missed me just as much as I missed you. And if you missed me… then turn around.*

Your heart pounded. Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Felix stood a few feet away, holding a camera with his signature sunshine smile. His hair was a little longer, his features more mature, but his eyes—those warm brown eyes—still held the same tenderness.

"Took you long enough to open it," he teased, stepping closer.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. "You actually came back."

Felix grinned, reaching for your hand. "I made a promise, didn’t I? And I plan to keep it—for as long as you'll have me."

---

Months passed, and Felix was still by your side. He told you stories of his travels, the breathtaking landscapes he captured, the people he met, and the nights he spent missing you. But now, he wasn’t traveling alone.

"This is it," Felix said one evening, setting up his camera near a quiet lakeside where the stars reflected perfectly on the water’s surface. "Our first adventure together."

You smiled, watching him work. "First of many."

Felix turned to you, his expression soft and full of devotion. "I never wanted to chase my dreams without you. I realized that no place, no photograph, no journey would ever feel complete if you weren’t there."

The realization warmed your heart as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. "So, where are we going next?"

Felix laughed, pulling you closer. "Anywhere. As long as it's with you."

Under the same starlit sky where your story began, you both stepped forward—this time, together.

---

SUPRISE! okay, genuinely I really want to make it sad ending or make it hanging but MY HEART say HAPPY ENDING so here we are. I guess I'll never write sad ending in my life :((

[forbebeandjam]

New Year Love | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | fluff

Summary: the young and famous dancer decided to have a new life with you by her side.

Word count: 1.3k

Fluff and some angst (just a little bit)

A/N: sorry I didn’t post this sooner. I had been trying to get my life together before I have to go back to work. I usually have to make sure what I’m writing isn’t rushed but anyway! Hope you like this 🤍

~

"Get the fuck out of my house! All you do is cause trouble anyway," Your mom said as she threw your things out of the house.

The reason behind her actions began when you decided to join a dance studio to learn dance. That had always been your dream. However, you couldn't afford it. You were only eighteen years old and you had gotten fired from your job.

It's not like it was your fault. You were trying to balance your studies, two jobs, and taking care of your little sister. Your parents lived off you and you hated it, but you loved your sister so you put up with it.

Until you had enough. You told your mom how tired you were of having to choose between, work, school, and your sister. You told her you wanted to go to school and dance and she... she laughed.

You didn't expect more from her and then she threw you out of the house. With nowhere to go and teary eyes, you picked up your things, shoved them in your bag, and walked to your school.

You sat on a bench near the entrance and hugged your body tightly. December 31st never felt so lonely and cold as that night. Then you felt someone sit next to you.

You froze in terror thinking it was probably a creepy man or a guy from school that came to mess with you when a light turned on. Then you saw her face and you were too shocked to say anything.

"What brings you here?" She said as she sniffled and dusted the snow off her coat. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Bada. Lee Bada was talking to you. The same girl who was in your class for years but never acknowledged you. The girl who everyone praised for being on TV several times because of her amazing choreographies.

"Cat got your tongue? Come on Y/N. You're usually so talkative around Dami. Why not with me?" She said with a small chuckle. Then you caught a glimpse of her eyes. Red and puffy. She had been crying and she just needed someone to talk to.

"Well, I guess this isn't the perfect place to spend New Year's but, it's better than the place I used to call home," she shrugged and hugged yourself a bit more trying to hide your coldness from her.

"Did you feel out of place too?" You asked again. You could feel droplets of sweat dripping down your forehead.

"Yeah... people rarely see me for who I am nowadays. They all focus on my future and fame. I can't have one moment to myself and when I do, I hear the whispers of people talking about how they can take advantage of my name. It's very lonely," she said and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Wouldn't it be nice to run away to a place where no one can mess with your peace? That's my New Year's resolution. Move away from my parents," there was a small pause after she finished her words.

"What about you, Y/N?" She said and tired to you.

"Gosh... you're freezing," she said and placed her coat around your shoulders. She zipped it up carefully and her hand graced your face. She flinched and her eyes were filled with worry.

"You're burning up. I need to get you to a hospital," she said. You could barely open your eyes but you managed to tell her you couldn't afford it.

"Don't worry about that. We need to go now. Get on," she crouched down in front of you and you weakly got in her back. She picked up your things and began walking to the street to look for a cab.

Once you were in the hospital you seemed to have lost consciousness. When you woke up it was daytime. The light of the room was shining on your eyes and you groaned. Your throat felt itchy and you had a headache.

"Happy New Year, Y/N," Bada said as she entered the room.

"Bada, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"I tried to contact your family. They cursed at me and told me you were dead to them... I'm sorry," she said as she placed food in front of you.

"If you pity me because of the rumors running around school, drop the act. I hate when people pity me. I'll manage on my own," you told her and looked away as your eyes filled with tears.

But the tall girl didn't leave. She sat next to you. You didn't dare to look at her. It was the only time someone gave you attention without having to ask for it.

"You still don't get it.." she said.

"Get what?" You asked, feeling curious about her words.

"I've always wondered why you were so distant. How can your pretty eyes can carry so much love and so much pain at the same time? How can you always be awake despite all of the things you do in a day?" She said.

"How do you-"

"I've been watching you. Ever since you transferred to this school I thought you seemed pretty cool. I wanted to be your friend so bad but you never seemed to care about anything other than your school work. After hearing the rumors about you, I knew your life was pretty difficult and I didn't want to make things harder for you so I decided to stay away from you," she paused.

You couldn't believe it. All of the things Bada just said were spinning in your head. You tried to make sense of them but you couldn't. There was no way Bada, The Bada Lee, wanted to be your friend.

"You... Why? Why did someone like you even acknowledge someone like me? People try to stay away from me because of my parents. They think I am like them. You never once thought of me as someone like that?" you asked still in disbelief.

"Never. I knew that you had a hard life and that you didn't deserve it. And I knew what your eyes were hiding. I'm sorry I didn't try to approach you and sprinkle a bit of happiness when you needed it,"

"I don't know what to say. It's gonna take time for me to heal but... I'd really love for you to stick around," you responded not looking at her eyes.

You felt a warmth around your hand realizing that it was her hand.

"I'll never leave you. Never," she said and you finally looked at her. That smile. That sweet sweet smile of hers just made it 100 times clearer. You never wanted to be away from Bada.

(A year later)

And there you were. After she finished school, you two went to live in a different city. You were both thriving with success and you moved in together. Just the two of you in your shared apartment as roommates.

It was evident that the two of you had fallen for each other but neither dared to say a thing. How could you ruin something so perfect with such a vague feeling?

So you say at the dinner table looking out of the window to see all the pretty fireworks. You leaned your head on her shoulder and she hugged you tightly.

"Happy New Year, my love," she said. You lifted your head and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you..."

"Call you, my love? I did. I want everything with you. I want to kiss you and hug you and help you heal. I want to give you the world and care for you. I want to spend my New Year's with you like this. So, please say yes and be mine?" She said as tears filled her eyes.

You didn't say anything but launched yourself into her arms and kissed her. Softly, then passionately.

You couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Something so painful as that night turned into something beautiful in the course of a year and you swore that was all you needed to be happy.

You couldn't wait for a lifetime of love and happiness next to Bada.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[comicaurora]

Congratulations on finishing Arc 1! I've been following this comic since pretty much the beginning (I remember when everyone thought Alinua was a cat girl because of how her ears looked under her hood). This comic has come a long way since then, and it's been a pleasure and inspiration to watch your journey!

So with Arc 1 done, how do you feel? Any thoughts about the early days of the comic, or some lessons you've learned? What are you most looking forward to in Arc 2?

(Side note- thank you for Erin. My brain chews on him regularly and I gave a presentation on him in speech class. He brings me immense joy)

Whoof! I feel like it's slowly sinking in, tbh. I'm pretty bad at appreciating my own accomplishments - I have a tendency to Fire And Forget to avoid getting bogged down by "oh I'd have done this better now" or "eek I don't like how I did that" or "oh no this aged badly" or "what if I just redid it but Better this time" - but I've gotten better at accepting all those things as Not The End Of The World and they do not make me a Bad Artist or Bad Person, and as a result, I'm able to look back and just be happy about this one. It's an odd feeling.

At some point in the last several chapters I decided the ending of Arc 1 needed to feel like a conclusion. Not a full series finale, but a season finale. Character arcs needed to hit points of resolution; setup needed to pay off; cool moves needed to get some airtime. It's not in my nature to end stories, but as I worked on this arc I got comfy with the idea that an ending wasn't mechanically locking in the last part of a story and saying Nothing Past This Point, it was resolving the major elements of the story that cried out for completeness. Stories can have many endings before they're actually done, and in order for Arc 1 to feel like a complete thing, I knew it needed to bring those dangling plot threads home.

The fun thing about resolving chunks of the plot is those resolutions open the door for entirely new problems, and I'm excited to play with those! Part of why I wanted to make sure I had the rest of the year off was so I could take my time and just sit in the new status quo, because freeform creative idea-spinning is my favorite part of the writing process, and it's a rare treat for me to have such a wide-open swath of possibility ahead of me.

[dastmalchiansnose]

get to know your mutuals

thank you for the tag, @strang3lov3! ♡

what's the origin of your blog title?

david dastmalchian's nose is one of my favorite things about him visually! i really like noses like that, but I'm not sure what they're called. roman nose? idk.

favourite fandoms?

i love the succession fandom, even though it's slowed down considerably. also, outing myself as a reddit user here, but i love r/okbuddysuccession, LOL. i also love the dastmalchian fandom by itself, as well as hamish linklater's!

otp(s)/shipname?

erin x riley from midnight mass, eileen x rebecca from eileen, and gretta keene x beverly marsh from it (2017) (mmm give me da toxic yuri)

favorite color?

dark brown

favorite game?

word games! IRL, i love scrabble, and digitally, i love wordle and word hunt + anagrams on IOS. i also love playing chess even though i am so bad at it, and always lose to my twelve-year-old cousin.

song stuck in your head?

I'M FEARFUL I'M FEARFUL I'M FEARFUL OF FLYING AND FLYING IS FEARFUL OF ME!!!!

weirdest habit/trait?

i couldn't think of any from the top of my head, so i asked my family; my sister and dad said eating lemons dipped in sugar (it is GAS, try it if you haven't), and my mom said my memory. i have a very strong memory and can recall exactly how i felt in the moment, physically and emotionally.

hobbies?

reading, writing, listening to music, playing the guitar, rollerblading, and playing minecraft!

if you work, what's your profession?

i'm currently a cashier and training assistant at a chain restaurant, and do babysitting on the side.

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?

student rights lawyer! i'm currently minoring in legal studies, but i'm going back-and-forth on actually going to law school because it is just... so much money. it has been a dream of mine since i was in middle school, though.

something you're good at?

i'd say i'm pretty good at writing! i've also got a knack for word games, too. anyone who plays word hunt or anagrams with me gets annihilated.

something you're bad at?

comforting people. i'm very solution-oriented, and i don't really know how to just sit there and listen, which is what a lot of people want.

something you love?

my doggy ♡

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff?

mbti & enneagram

something you hate?

i have such an irrational hatred for "womp womp" and every time i see or hear it i get sent into a primal rage

something you collect?

calico critters! i'm really sad, though, because my dad's dog got my hedgehog family and now they are all permanently disfigured.

something you forget?

to text people back, to the point it became my new year's resolution in 2024

what's your love language?

quality time

favorite movie/show?

hereditary for movie, and midnight mass for show!

favorite food?

grrr don't make me choose... either chana saag or yellow curry

favorite animal?

my doggy x2 ♡

are you musical?

i love music (i actually have a blog for it!), but i'm kind of a jack-of-all-trades and master of none with instruments. i play guitar, mandolin, ukulele, and banjo, but... i'm mediocre at all of them. i just do it because i like it. i also never bothered to learn how to read musical notes, so...

what were you like as a child?

very serious, type-a, and neurotic. also very mean to my big sister, because we were and are so different and argued all the time (sorry, kelsey).

favorite subject at school?

any english course; my favorite class of all time, though, was an environmental sociology course last year!

least favorite subject?

drama. i fucking hated drama with all my heart in high school. i'm not an actress.

what's your best character trait?

my principles? does that count? i always stick to what i believe in and am pretty consistent.

what's your worst character trait?

stubbornness, which does go hand-in-hand with my best character trait.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?

that i did my laundry earlier >_<

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?

aghhh either audre lorde or andrea dworkin. maybe valerie solanas, too, specifically after the andy warhol debacle.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!):

pulling triggers by notyourfavouriteboy on ao3!

tagging:

@verylightsheep & @donadefr3sa & @murdocsgirl & @ronecam & @minty-oblivion & @polkastuff & @murdocs-sweetheart

[leasstories]

The New Girl

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

TW: SH, blood, drug use, depression, mentions of bullying

Your family just moved in Hawkins Indiana, you're 18 and this is your senior year. You were your old town's freak, and the fact that you were a girl made it even worse. You were considered the town’s freak because you were mainly listening to metal and Rock N'Roll  but also because you loved Roleplay games. One day, you saw this magazine about Dungeon and Dragons and you really enjoyed the game's concept, you knew pretty much everything about this game but you had no one to play it with. This year means new resolutions and you decided to be the most "normal" that you could be. It means you have to say goodbye to the ripped jeans but also goodbye to the band t-shirts. And you even consider joining the cheerleaders even though you hate what they do. You won't be able to go through another year of bullying, all alone. Your high school years were really hard on you, you went into depression and school phobia and started having self harming habits. This year has to be different. You're even gonna hide your tattoos and you dyed your hair back in your h/c which is far different from their previous color which was claret-red.

This is your first day at Hawkins High, you dressed in a plain white, long sleeve t-shirt and a blue jean, and you only did your make up with foundation and mascara. You rush downstair, take your bag, a pancake and rush through the door while screaming "See you tonight !" to your parents. You hear your mom wishing you a good day before sitting on the driver seat of your car. You drive to school even though you are early and you hope you can find a calm spot in order to hide and smoke your cigarette before heading to class. You park your car on the parking, get out and see a little path leading to the forest, you take it and arrive at a picnic table, you sit thinking it's a very calm spot for your little pre first day cigarette. You sit down, take your cigarette out and start smoking when you hear leaves scrunching behind you. You jump off of the bench, to see a teenager, or young adult you don't know, with brown curly hair, brown eyes and his clothes are very similar to your former clothes. He raises his hands in surrender to show you he means no harm before speaking.

"I never saw you around"

"I'm new in town" you answer

The boy looks at you with his big brown eyes, you can't help but stare at him, but also admire him for being confident enough to wear the clothes he wants, you remember that once, you were like him, but that led you to be in such a dark place that you think it doesn't worth it.

"Then welcome perfect stranger, I'm Eddie Munson !"

You chuckle before answering "I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N"

"Nice to meet you, I actually can't believe you are talking to me, most people would have ran away"

"Why is that ?” you ask

"Because I'm the town's freak" he makes invisible quoting marks with his hands "mean and scary"

"You don't seem mean and scary to me"

"Well thank you,  but you shouldn't hang out with me at school, not that I don't like you no, you are pretty and I enjoy talking to you but-"

You cut Eddie's rambling. "I can manage hanging out with the outcasts, I actually was an outcast in my old town"

"You don't seem an outcast to me, you seem the most normal person I've ever seen, and it's not an insult at all I promise" Eddie is all flustered and keep rambling.

"My style, my real style is similar to yours to be honest, I just changed it because I couldn't take being the freak anymore but I admire you. I admire you for not caring about what others think, and" you take a deep breathe "I want to learn, that's why, if you accept it of course, I'm gonna hang out with you at school"

While you were talking Eddie took a black lunch box out and started rolling a joint.

"I'd be honored to hang out with you, and I'll help you, I'll help you see how unimportant people's opinion is, all that matters is that you are comfortable in your own clothes, that you feel yourself. Do you even feel yourself in those ?"

You look at the ground, ashamed before answering "Not really..."

"You don't have to feel ashamed. I promise to help you be yourself" Eddie lits up his joint, you look at the joint tempted before Eddie asks you "Wanna share it with me ?"

You think about it, and if you're gonna walk into the hall of your new high school with him, you'll need courage, plus you haven't had one in two days now and the withdrawal is getting really strong so you nod.

"Before I share it with you I need you to say it out loud, please"

"Yes I want to share it with you"

Eddie hands you the joint and you take a few hits before handing it back to him. You look at your watch before cursing "shit ! Eddie we're gonna be late !"

Eddie shrugs but then he sees the panic in your eyes and takes his stuff before leading you to the high school.

When you both enter the halls, everyone looks at you. You start fidgeting with your fingers, really anxious for this first day when Eddie says. "You have nothing to be afraid of, if anyone is rude to you come to me and I'll flip them off"

You chuckle slightly before answering "thank you Eddie". Gosh you find this boy really sweet but also insanely attractive, but of course you keep your thoughts to yourself.

Eddie leads you to the secretary office and waits for you outside while you go pick up your timetable as well as your locker number and code. When you head out, you look surprised that Eddie is still here.

"What are you still doing here, you're gonna be late."

"I wasn't going to let you get lost in the maze that is Hawkins high, plus I don't care about being late"

"Thank you, I'm going to my locker and then to my first class"

Eddie snatches your timetable from your hands and look at you, grinning.

"We are together almost all morning !" he seems very excited at the idea of spending the morning with you and deep down you are too. You are also relieved.

"Sounds amazing" you answer

After your last class of the morning, that you had to spend without Eddie, you're going to the cafeteria, you enter and go grab food, once you have your tray, you look around for somewhere to sit when one of the basketball player, you think his name is Jason, goes to you and tell you "Wanna sit with us new girl ?"

You look at him in disbelief because of what he just called you, but you're kinda scared of him, you knew people like that at your old school, one of them used to hit you every single day, you start trembling a bit.

Eddie is sitting at his table with his friends from Hellfire. Gareth, Jeff, Dustin and Mike all look at the scene happening a few meters away which is your interaction with Jason when Gareth says.

"Look at the new girl already being seduced by the King of Hawkins high"

At those few words, Eddie raises his head from his plate and look at the exchange between you and Jason, he can sense that something is off but before he can say anything Dustin speak up.

"Why does she look so uncomfortable ?"

Eddie gets up on the table and scream "YN, you can come sit here if you want"

The whole cafeteria look at you and then Eddie in disbelief and Jason look at you with a glare saying 'don't you dare sit with him'. Before you could say anything Jason turns to Eddie and says "Want somethin' freak ?". The nickname make you wince and you get out of the cafetaria, running, with teary eyes. You run until you reach the picnic table you were sat on this morning.

Meanwhile, Eddie makes a face at Jason before jumping from the table and going to look for you. After 10 minutes of searching the whole High School, Eddie comes to the conclusion that you are at the picnic table. He goes there and see you with a bloody razor blade in your hand, crying. He delicately sits next to you and take the blade from your hands, he doesn't say anything because to be honest, he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry" you manage to say between sobs

"Don't be YN, I am the one who is sorry, I should have been waiting for you at your class. What happened with Jason, did he say something ?"

You start crying even more at the mention of what happened in the cafeteria, Eddie start rubbing your back before he remembers the bloody blade. He looks at your bloody wrists and take one in his hand, he take his bandana and start wiping off the blood while you keep crying.

"I'm sorry if it hurts sweetheart but I have to clean all that blood"

You wince when the fabric of the bandana touch your wrist but you don't back up. You're ashamed that he saw you like that though.

After Eddie finished wiping the blood from your left wrist, he wipes the blood from your left wrist.

He keeps rubbing your back while you sob before asking "do you wanna talk about what happened in there ?"

You take a shaky breath before saying "I've known someone like Jason... back in my former high school, and he-" you start crying again "he hurt me almost every single day..."

"I'm sorry to hear that YN... Jason is a dick but he'd never hurt you like that, and even if he tried I wouldn't let him"

You look at Eddie, still sobbing, with your teary eyes and you mutter a shaky "thank you"

Then Eddie looks back at yout wrists and hesitate before asking "do you hurt yourself often ?"

You burry your face in your hands, ashamed and keep sobbing.

Eddie gets up from the bench and kneel before you, taking your hands away from your face. He lift your chin up so you can look at him before saying "You don't have to answer YN, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything, I'd never judge you or tell anyone what you tell me"

"I do..." you end up answering

Eddie look at you with saddened eyes before searching for a pen and a paper through his bag, he writes down his adress and phone number and hands it to you.

"The next time you want to do that, call me or  come see me, I'll try taking your mind off of it, and if you can't help but do it, I'll at least clean your cuts"

You take the paper after thanking him.

"Do you want me to bring you back home ?" You nod, you and Eddie go back to your car, once you've unlocked the car Eddie opens the passenger door for you.

"What are you doing ?" you say

"Driving you home" Eddie answers

"But what about your car ?"

"Don't worry for me YN, I won't let you drive when you're all shaken up, please let me do that for you"

You nod and climb on the passenger seat. Eddie close your door before climbing on the driver's seat. You give him the direction to your home. The ride is silent, but it's a comfortable silence. Once you arrive, Eddie open the passenger door for you before leading you to your door.

You unlock your door when Eddie says "See ya tomorrow YN !"

"Can you... can you stay please" you ask

Eddie look at you before saying "Of course I can, I have nothing better to do anyway, I can stay until your parents come back"

"Thank you so much" you say with a weak smile.

You lead Eddie to the couch and instruct him to sit down.

"I know you've been wanting to ask me something all the way home, please go ahead, ask me, whatever it is I'm prepared."

"Why do you hurt yourself ?"

You take a shaky breath before answering "Because the pain I feel inside of me is eating me alive, when I cut myself my focus is on another kind of pain, one that hurt less than the pain inside of me"

Eddie takes your hand. "I'm sorry, I wish I could take away some of your pain"

After this conversation, Eddie cheered you up, he made some jokes to make you laugh, you listened to Iron Maiden together, and when it was time for him to leave you kissed him on the cheek and Eddie was all flustered.

The next days, you spent a lot of time together and Eddie was always trying to put a smile on your face, he was doing everything in his power to make you forget the demons from your past, and it worked, every time you were with him  you were laughing and smiling. Thanksgiving holidays were approaching, which meant you would be all by yourself for a week. But you decided that you won't tell Eddie, he has to enjoy Thanksgiving holidays with his family, he needs to take time for himself. You can't ask him to spend his entire holiday with you even though you'd really like that. You can't be selfish, he's done so much for you in the past weeks.

This is the last day before the holidays and you decided to go to school with your style, you put on a black Metallica t-shirt with a black ripped jean, Doc Martens and let your tattoos show, you didn't tell Eddie that you would come to school like that, when you entered the hall, everyone was whispering, you went to class and sat at the last raw, next to Eddie's usual place.

Eddie was late as usual, when he entered the class he saw everyone whispering but paid no further attention, until his eyes spotted you. When he looked at you, his jaw dropped, he didn't think you'd be ready yet. He went to sit next to you and saw you figdeting and your knee bounce, you two had gotten really close in the past weeks so he put his hand on your knee and look at you, a look meaning 'I'm here for you'. The class go by and you keep fidgeting but Eddie keeps his hand on your knee until the teacher notice.

"Can I help you Mister Munson" she says

"I'm sorry Miss, I wasn't feeling well and Eddie was showing me emotional support" you answer

"The freak help the freak" says a cheerleader. Chrissy turn to you with an apologetic smile.

"Mrs Smith, I didn't ask for a comment, Mr Munson just remove your hand from her knee"

Eddie look at you before doing so, you nod, making him understand that it's okay. Deep down it isn't and you know that you aren't going to your next class.

When the bell ring, you don't even wait for Eddie and run to the bathroom, you lock yourself until the bell ring to indicate that the next class is starting.

Eddie enter the next class, he scans the room but doesn't see you, he doesn't care about what the teacher will say, he just get out of the room, ignoring the teacher who was ordering him to come back to class. He knew where you were but he also knew that you were hurting yourself, he knows how hard it had been for you and also know you weren't ready to handle everything that was coming with assuming your style, your mental health was still very fragile even though Eddie had helped you a lot. He had to find you, you needed him now more than ever.

You were sat at the picnic table, looking blankly at your bloody wrist when Eddie found you, he sat next to you and you were so afraid that you disappointed him that you decided to speak first, looking at your shoes.

"I'm sorry Eddie, I couldn't help it"

Eddie looks at you with a saddened but understanding look. "I'm not mad YN, I promise, let me fix this."

Eddie goes through his bag and take out some gauze and a bottle of antiseptic, he always has it in his bag since the first time he saw you hurt yourself, just in case. He didn't have to use it in a while, but he knew that you would probably relapse one day, and Eddie was glad he didn't take it out of his bag.

Eddie put some antiseptic on the gauze and started cleaning your wounds, he then looked at you in the eyes before saying "I really like your style" Eddie is grinning, even though he shouldn't be flirty, he can't help, you're just so beautiful, even more when you’re yourself. Eddie doesn't care about your scars, and even if it saddened him, the fact that you happened to hurt yourself wasn't something that made him run away. Eddie fell for you in those few weeks you spent together.

"Thank you for cleaning this up, and for the compliment" you blush at each special attentions.

"You’re not so bad yourself Munson" you added

Eddie got closer to you and took your hand in his. "I have something to tell you YN, and I know that now might not be the best timing but I can't keep it to myself anymore."

"I love you Eddie" you blurt out without thinking. When you realize what you just say you put your left hand on your mouth and take your hand away of Eddie's, ready to leave.

Eddie grabs you by the wrist and kisses you passionately before saying "I was going to say that I love you more than I should love a friend. And please don't interrupt me, let me finish. I really enjoy every moment with you, and I'm proud of you for coming to school like that, I'm proud of you for not self harming for weeks. Yes you've relapsed today, but relapse is part of recovery and please believe me when I say that you can tell me when you've done it, I'd rather be there for you, help you clean it up and help taking away your guilt than not knowing what you're going through. You've come such a long way YN, and I'm so so proud of you. I love you and nothing can change that."

You have tears in your eyes, what Eddie said is so beautiful, you don't even know what to answer to that, no one as never been this kind to you before and it's overwhelming, so instead of saying anything you hug him and don't let go.

It is Thanksgiving today, your parents left in order to spend Thanksgiving with your grand-parents as well as your aunts and uncles that you don't particularly appreciate, that's why you decided to stay home. You have been trying out outfits all morning long to find the perfect outfit and now you found it, you're gonna wear a black leather dress, tights and heeled boots, you put on some black eye liner, mascara and red lipstick. You've just finished putting your hair in a tight bun when you hear Eddie's van pulling up in your backyard. You rush to the door taking your keys and bag. Your run in Eddie's arms and hug him tight, your legs around his waist. Eddie chuckles and kiss you before saying "Ready to spend Thanksgiving with me and my uncle ?"

You seem a bit stressed so Eddie looks at you in the eyes before saying "Wayne is gonna love you YN, I'm sure of that"

You spend the ride hand in hand, listening to your favorite song, 'Rainbow In the Dark' by Dio.

"Eddie ?" you say, breaking the silence

"Mmh" he answers

"You are my Rainbow in the dark"

Eddie smiles and squeezes your hand. "I love you Sweetheart"

" I love you too Eddie"

And as Eddie predicted Wayne loves you and you spent the best Thanksgiving you've ever spent, surronded by people you feel safe around. Not thinking once about hurting yourself. Eddie is really your Rainbow in the dark.

If you or anyone you know has to deal with SH, depression or suicidal thoughts please reach out for help. https://www.cdc.gov/reproductivehealth/depression/resources.htm

[byoldervine]

What I’ve learned from a year of writing goals

My New Years’ Resolutions for 2024 were all related to my writing, and I’m pleased to say that I completed most of them. They all taught me new things about myself as a writer so I thought I’d share them in an end-of-year round up. I’ll go over each one and what it taught me

Goal 1: Write at least 1000 words every week ✅

This was the main goal I had, and the intention behind it was to make sure I was writing consistently, and therefore making consistent progress. Even if I wrote the minimum for each week, that’d still be 52K words written during the year - and that’s guaranteed, not a few thousand cranked out all at once until I’m burnt out followed by months of inactivity

I found that watching my word count increase so often was actually really motivating for me personally, though I’d expected it to be more daunting at first. And some days I’d write a lot more than just the 1K, which was even more exciting. I remember one day I was so excited and inspired for one particular chapter that I cranked out the entire thing in one go, and that was so much fun. Other days I’d be struggling to even get through the 1000 words because I just wasn’t inspired or motivated enough, or I’d have writer’s block

What I found helped get over this was knowing I didn’t have to necessarily like what I wrote, just that I had to meet 1000 words by the end of the week, so I’d always sit down for a proper writing session every Monday morning - if I couldn’t get over a mental block, I had plenty of time to set it aside and come back another day before the deadline came up. Usually, however, I’d complete it all in one sitting, which was another really motivating thing. I could then spend the rest of the week doing other things so I wouldn’t get burnt out on writing or worrying about not being productive enough

One downside I did encounter was that, once I’d complete the goal for the week, I’d not want to go back to it until the next week rolled around - it almost felt like it wasn’t worth starting a new writing session if it wouldn’t contribute to the goal. That’s something I’d like to counter in future by coming up with further incentives for additional writing sessions or going over the goal

Goal 2: Have a draft of 90K+ words by the end of the year ✅

I chose 90K as my desired word count because fantasy novels usually have a 90K word count on the low end, so it seemed sensible to aim for that. I started the year with around 45K words - meaning my goal was for an additional 45K and therefore very much achievable in 52 weeks - and now I’m ending it on 110K, making for a difference of around 65,000 words

I think it was around September that I reached 90K, and I was so excited about it; I’d already completed one of my goals and it wasn’t even close to the deadline. But there was something strange going on at this point in time; I’d reached one of my word count goals, but I wasn’t even close to finishing the story yet. Even now I can’t say that I’m even quite in the end game yet. I ended up writing a lot more than I planned - and that’s okay, because it’s only a first draft right now, and because of that I want to focus more on quantity than quality

I think having this goal was really motivating while it was in effect, because seeing myself getting closer and closer to that seemingly unattainable number was exciting and made me feel really proud of myself. I think reaching that goal a lot sooner than I planned taught me a lot about how I’m more capable than I previously thought, and that I should give myself more credit and trust myself to overcome more daunting challenges. This goal gave me a lot more confidence in my process

Goal 3: Finish the first draft by the end of the year ❌

This was the only goal that I wasn’t able to complete; I’m still a good few chapters away from finishing the draft

I think what influenced this the most was my pacing; as time went on and I began to write more for quantity than quality, and new plots and subplots were hitting different beats, the pacing began to fluctuate and I became more heavy on the description. I also wanted to ensure I added plenty of downtime for the characters to break apart the constant calamity and busywork and, well, they have a lot of walking to do as they travel, so it was easy to throw in around the main plot

I’m not disappointed about failing this goal because it means that I’ve taken the time to put real effort into my work rather than rushing it to meet some deadline, as well as given myself a lot to work with when editing and improving. Unlike with the 90K goal, I’d much rather fail to meet the deadline than succeed with months to spare. I’ve still gotten significantly far in this time, and I’m proud of myself for putting in so much effort, and I think having additional goals beyond just ‘finish everything by X time’ helps with that; I can still see how far I’ve come and how much I’ve accomplished via the other goals that encourage me to take my time

I still absolutely want to complete the draft, and coming as far as I have is further motivation to get it done. There’s something really special about working so hard for so long on something but still finding that joy and excitement to continue rather than burnout, and it’s not something I’m all that used to experiencing. By now I’ve usually grown tired of a project and left it, but I’m still going strong with this one and I’m still incredibly passionate about it. And I think that having this goal only to not quite meet it is helping me to appreciate this; I’m not upset about it, but actually looking forward to having further opportunities to continue. I really should stop calling it ‘failing’, since I count this as an overall win even if I didn’t make the deadline

What I’ve learned

I think persevering with these goals in mind all year has been very eye-opening for me as to how I like to progress with my writing; I can be consistent, I can get more done than I think, I can be excited about a project even after a whole year of ‘making myself’ write. These goals have boosted my confidence not only in my abilities to write, but as a writer

I love my story and my characters, and coming back to them so often and so frequently has been a blessing in getting to know them and reaffirming just how wonderful the writing process is. When I love what I’m writing, I can churn out a lot at once, and that didn’t impact my ability to come back and keep writing more, though I thought it would. I was also consistently getting a sense of accomplishment from meeting my weekly word counts, updating my word count every chapter, etc, which made the process feel rewarding and something I could take pride in. It felt big and productive, but the process stayed just as simple as always, even if it wasn’t always as easy

Based on everything, one thing I want to improve upon in future is ensuring that I continue to write even when it won’t contribute to a weekly word count. Setting additional goals or otherwise incentivising additional writing sessions is something I want to experiment with with any future attempts at these goals

[itsscromp]

New Year’s resolution’s

A bit of a sort of sequel to my Christmas one that I did here, something to start 2024 in the right direction, thank you all so much for supporting my stories thought 2023 and leaving your amazing requests with me. I had a blast to write them for you. So without further ado, happy new year everyone, let’s kick off 2024 shall we ?? Word count:935

Spending Christmas with Alex was easily the best decision you have ever made. You two would spent the whole time playing video games and at one point building a snowman. But then new year's eve quickly came along. Alex decided to throw a small party with a few of his former CIA buddies.

Sure it was fun and all, but New Year's was a bit of an iffy thing for you, Since joining 141 and helping Alex and Farah, you came to learn that it was a little pointless to try to be happy about ringing in a new year. The same global tensions and pointless wars. All the same shit you come to expect every year.

You were sitting by the dining table watching on as Alex and his friend broke out the karaoke machine and began to belt out a song so damn badly, of course, you began recording it. Oh Farah was gonna laugh her ass off seeing this video.

But then one of his friends sat next to you and began to try and have a conversation with you. "You make any New Year's resolutions ??" He asked.

"Nah, don't believe in that. No one keeps them"

"Whaaaaatttt ?? Of course, they do, 2 years ago I made a resolution to get back into shape and look at me, I'm as happy as ever" he said while he also flexed his bicep.

"Good for you I guess..." You didn't want to come off as rude, But again New Year's just wasn't your thing. He continued on about New Year's resolutions and how it's always the best thing ever to start the year fresh. It was really making you tense up a bit.

"But I mean come on, Surely they can't keep they're resolutions right ??"

"Yeah... Sorry, just gonna go outside for a little bit" You excused yourself and grabbed your coat, zipping outside as you then breathed in the cool winter air and took a sip of your beer.

He was a little confused as to why you decided to go out like that, Turning to Alex as he then sat down after singing his heart out. "Hey Alex, is your friend ok ??"

"Why, What's wrong ??" He asked.

"I was just having a conversation with them and they seemed to be a little bit bummed out for some reason"

"Did you say anything..." Protective bestie activate

"No no, I was just talking about New Year's and such"

Alex grew a little confused when he said that, why were you feeling sad on New Year's. "Where are they ??"

"They ducked outside"

Alex nodded, grabbing his coat as well and going outside to find you. His hands in his pockets as he approached you.

"Hey... Is something bugging you ??" He gently asked.

You tried to brush it off initially "Just... not really a party type person" You nervously chuckled.

"Hey... It's ok, I promise" He gently placed an arm around your shoulder and gently squeezed it. "I'm all ear's pal" He softly smiled.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words for what you were about to say.

"I... I hate New Year's"

Alex tilted his head in confusion and frowned slightly. "Why do you hate New Year's ??"

You looked out into the open "Every time I hope for something different when a new year arrives, It's always either the same shit or a new problem that we have to fucking solve" You gripped the wood panel lightly. "I just... I really want it to be different"

Alex nodded as he looked out. "I get that, I really do, Sometimes I wish for the same... But can't be helped sometimes. And plus I never liked those New Year's resolutions either, cause no one end's up keeping them"

"Your friend seemed happy about it..."

"Eh, He's a showboat sometimes" He chuckled. "It's... easier to just.. celebrate another year Y'know ?? Especially for us, we made it" He squeezed your shoulder again.

"Yeah..." You nodded as you looked up at him.

"It's a miracle we're all together, no matter what happens" He smiled.

You soon began to smile as well "Yeah... Thank you, Alex"

He nodded his head "Here, how about our own little celebration" He went back inside and grabbed a couple of beers plus a bottle opener, coming back outside and opening his and your bottles. "It's early, but just for us" He handed you your bottle.

You smiled as you grabbed it and took a swig from it.

"This year... To the friends we made and the missions we had, And next year to those same friends and family."

"Yeah... I like that" You nodded smiling

"Whatever next year brings, We've got a team" He raised his bottle.

"Yeah, we do" You clinked his bottle and soon wrapped your arm around him. "You're my ride or die, you know that ??"

He playfully ruffles your hair "Till the rider's die pal"

This wasn't going to change, no matter what the new year brings, you would have Alex by your side always. No matter what. Soon the two heard loud mumbling inside, they were about to go in when they heard fireworks nearby. Even getting a good glimpse at them It was midnight... The new year has begun. Both of you stayed outside and watched the fireworks go off, relishing each other's company.

"Happy new year Alex"

"Happy new year y/n" He wrapped his arm around you again.

This was all you needed, you and Alex. You knew he'd be at your side, Always.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Fic Writer Interview

So I decided to snag this from @sparklepocalypse and fill it out because I'm cozy on my couch on New Year's Eve and fighting off a nap like a grumpy toddler. I'm actually fairly certain I've done this one before, now that I think about it, but oh well. The numbers are different since last time, so...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

60, apparently! 61 being posted later today!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

178,579

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ghosts

Do we still have forever

Volume Control

Retaliation

Modification to the map of you

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to each and every comment that I receive. I try very hard to leave a personalized message for each person, but no matter what, even if it's just a "thank you," I will always respond! Even if it takes me some time!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

To this day, the angstiest ending is Darkest before the dawn, which ends with hope, even if it doesn't end with an actual resolution. It's during canon, so the reader know what happens next.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think my most recent Christmas fic, Oh what a laugh it would have been, has probably now overtaken one of my previous fics for overall happiest ending!

7. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but I'm absolutely open to it given the write parameters!

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven't yet, and I hope I never do, although I know that the internet can be a wild place.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

If you'd asked me back in July of this year, I would have said that I primarily write fade to black. Since then, I've written ridiculous amounts of smut. I'm still learning about various kinks I'd like to write about, because I don't want to just write without knowledge of the act itself, but I'm wading into the smut-verse now. I'd say the water's up to my knees, at this point. Got a ways to go.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, not that I've been made aware of, but I think it would be so neat.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but catch me and @thinkof-england cowriting something amazing now that the new year has arrived.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Y'all are gonna need to sit down for this. I don't think you're ready. Deep breath in. Hold it. Now let it out slowly. Calm your mind. Are you ready? Okay because I know this is going to come as a shock to you when I say that it's FirstPrince.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Star Trek fic with Jim Kirk x an OC. I started it back in the spring and then RWRB happened and now it's just languishing away in my docs at just shy of 18,000 words.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I have realistic dialogue, so I'll count that as a strength. I also think I'm pretty skilled at metaphors. Love a good metaphor.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

The description of surroundings, including clothing and scenery. I feel like I don't do enough of this sometimes, and I'm trying to better at painting a proper picture.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done so! Lots and lots of research and consultation with native speakers to confirm accuracy.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Pirates of the Caribbean, apparently.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

There isn't really one out there. I'm super content with the permanent campsite I've built in FP land. Hopefully I'm allowed to hang out there for quite some time.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How am I supposed to pick a favorite out over 60 fics?!

I suppose if I absolutely HAD to pick right now, right this second, I'd say Ghosts, because the prompt for it as my first ever reader-submitted prompt on a comment from another fic. The reader enjoyed my fic so much that they asked if I'd write another, and Ghosts it what came of that interaction. I loved writing it and sharing it not just with that reader but with the fandom as a whole.

Gonna post my tag list for anyone who wants to participate!

@adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @daisymae-12 @duchessdepolignaca03 @gayrootvegetable @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @ninzied @priincebutt @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @roseharpermaxwell@ships-to-sail @songliili @ssmtskw @statueinthestonetoo @stereopticons @suseagull04 @thinkof-england @tintagel-or-cockleshells@user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

by David Hume Kennerly

* * *

PLEASE DON’T THANK ME FOR MY SERVICE THIS VETERAN’S DAY

NOV 11, 2023

Please don't thank me for my "service." I was in the military, not the "Service." Service is doing something good. Service is what the person does who fixes your car. When the word "service" is applied to the military, it helps to justify violence as a method for conflict resolution. Like "defending our freedom," or "bringing democracy," the word "service" is used to lower the barriers of aggression. The military solution to conflict is death and destruction. That's not "service." Call it what it is - the military. If you have to hurt someone to solve a problem, you are the Problem. -- Arnold Stieber, US Army Veteran, 1970

I have absolutely no problem understanding exactly what Mr. Stieber wrote above, “back in the day,” with the white-hot heat of youth and the thorough pissed-offness of someone who had seen the side of life nobody ever wants to see. It’s the attitude I came home with from that same war, five years before he did.

I’ve never really gotten used to the new tradition of the past 30 years, for civilians - on discovering they are in the presence of someone who served in the military, - to say “Thank you for your service.” I have very mixed emotions about that. On the one hand, it’s nice that maybe a fourth of them have a clue why they’re saying what they are, that it isn’t merely the mouthing of polite words. On the other hand, I’m not sure why anyone would want to thank someone who served in the war I served in, or the ones that followed.

The war in Vietnam made everything in America worse. For just one thing, it harmed the economy when the government adopted a policy of both “guns” and “butter,” which led to the severe inflation of the 1970s, which gave companies looking for any way to reduce costs to start taking a hard line on employee compensation, which leaves us in the condition where the average American working stiff now makes less in terms of buying power than they did 50 years ago, I don’t know about you, but I’m not up to thanking anyone for that.

Of course, thinking further on this leads one to the obvious conclusion that it wasn’t the kids who got drafted who did any of that. They weren’t sitting in the halls of government thinking about how to distract the citizenry from the fact that this particular imperial war was going bad in all ways, and coming up with the idea of keeping taxes down in a period of increased government spending for things that go “BOOM!” while making sure they could get that new car every three years like they always did. Those decisions are the ones that led to the situation I mentioned above. Made by guys who mostly never got shot at, even in the war they did serve in.

In my experience during my time in the Navy and the years after knowing other vets and working with them, there were very few of us who “wanted” to go to war. Most of my fellow sailors were in the Navy because they figured joining the Navy and getting trained for a good job and “seeing the world” beat the daylights out of being in the Army, so much so it was worth a couple extra years over the two years a draftee served. Ditto the Air Force. Even the Marines were forced to start taking draftees after 1966, when they ran low on guys who believed what John Wayne told them in “Sands of Iwo Jima.”

As close as anyone got to “wanting” to go was when those of us who had joined before the war received the first orders sending us to the war. As my friend Phil Caputo wrote in “A Rumor of War” (a “Vietnam book” you should read), when he learned he and his fellow Marines were headed to DaNang in South Vietnam in 1965, “I thought to myself that when it was over and I went home, I’d be able to look my Tarawa-veteran father in the eye.” I know many others - including me, son of the guy who survived the Kamikazes - the sons of the “greatest generation” who had grown up with all the stories about our father’s “good war,” who “played war” with the cast-off gear from that war, who had similar thoughts.

Vietnam was the last war fought with draftees, and you can bet your bottom dollar today’s leaders will never go back to that system. The draft made everyone think about the war, whether they had to worry about getting drafted out of whatever working class job they had (or didn’t have); even the kids with student deferments had to think about the war when they didn’t work hard enough to keep their grades up and maintain their 2-S status. Mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters and friends all had to worry about someone they knew and loved going off to that war. Whether they “supported the president” or came to understand that the war wasn’t worth the loss of that life they knew and loved, they came in the middle of the night to hate the war. And eventually that made itself known in politics. The makers of war became constrained in the war they could make by the lack of support from those who gave them their jobs with their votes.

I’ll tell you something. After I came back, I did all I could to end that draft. But I would be very happy to see it brought back today.

No deferments. The sons and daughters of the rich serve right alongside the sons and daughters of the poor - like they did in World War II. It’ll make the entitled little shits into something better. And it really does unify - it’s hard to hate people you know by name.

But mostly I’m in favor of that because it makes it almost impossible for “They” to decide to fight a 20 year war in Afghanistan, or Iraq. They can’t do it because too many people will be paying attention. And getting pissed off at them. And voting.

But no, for exactly the reasons I am for the draft, the “all-volunteer” army is here to stay. You can’t fight 20-year wars in hellholes nobody knows without it. That way, only about 1-2 percent of the population ever has to think about the war - the kids who join up because they don’t have a future that looks better than what the military offers, their families, their friends - not a big enough group that if they got upset they could muster any political changes, unlike all those folks 50 years ago.

Most of all, if you’re going to thank me or any of us for our service, don’t try to honor us as “heroes.” For one thing, most of us aren’t, and for another, if you haven’t been in the military you really have no idea what being a hero in that context actually is.

It’s not what you think it is.

An old Navy Chief once explained “being a hero” to me: “When you’re so terrified that your brain is so frozen you can’t think, and you’ve pissed your pants and shit your drawers, and you just know you’re going to die, and you still do your job - THAT is being a hero.”

Not the definition too many in our society nowadays want to hear.

“But, Tom,” you say, “don’t you write all these best-selling books about wars and heroes? You must really love war to think about it so much.”

If you have gotten anything even remotely like that from reading any of my books, you really need to reconsider that decision not to take that remedial course in reading comprehension.

Yes, I do honor those out there in the mud and the blood and the ooze. And I appreciate knowing the ones who were out there in the mud and the blood and the ooze and survived to come back to the world of the living. That’s because their willingness to do that has a lot to do with why there is that world of the living to come back to.

Or at least that’s true in the World War II books. That’s the last war that could be divided into the Good Guys and the Bad Guys.

Except it kind of can’t. I’ve known too many guys who served on “the other side” who are just as nice - if not nicer - than anyone I have met from “the good side.”

In fact some of them must be better than anyone who served on this side. That’s a small list. But every guy who served in Vietnam and then had the opportunity to later meet the people they were trying to kill at the time, has met people who have been willing to forgive them for My Lai and Agent Orange and Rolling Thunder and all the rest of it, and offer friendship. And the ones on that side who I have been privileged to meet are definitely honorable men.

A late friend of mine who was a leading ace in “the good war” once told me when we were at a convention of those guys and the honored guests at the event were the guys who they’d been out to kill: “The secret nobody knows is, we always thought the guys we were fighting were the only ones who knew what we were going through. We actually thought we were closer to them than to the other people who were on our side.” I’ve heard similar sentiments from former infantrymen as well as former fliers, so it’s not some “guild of the elite” or “honorable brotherhood.”

Although it probably is an “honorable brotherhood.” The brotherhood of people who were willing to do what it took to defend what they loved - and believe it or not that even applies to the Germans; most of them knew as much about the “larger issues” going on, the terrible things, as any young guy in the US military did in the war I fought. And when they did find out, they were shocked too. The people who did the terrible things tried to keep them secret from everyone else, because they knew they were doing terrible things.

My friend Jim Wright, who’s become well-known in social media in recent years for some straight-shooting talk from a retired Chief Warrant Officer, wrote:

“Mostly we veterans are just people who came when called and did our best under terrible circumstances.”

I’ll end with a quote from a guy who did know what it took to do all that stuff:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.”

― Dwight D. Eisenhower, Soldier, General, President

[TCinLa :: Thats Another Fine Mess]

[greenerteacups]

Long ask ahead! Sorry in advance for my rambling!

I’m a huge fan of Lionheart! (Latest update got me furious btw, your Umbridge characterization is amazing; i need. Revenge. the woman is vile)

my long ask today is on the topic of writing fanfics, or beginning to; i’ve been a fan of hp for a longish (?) time (i am currently in my first year of college, so since elementary school) and i want to start dipping my toes in writing fanfics, esp dramione. problem is, i have all these grand plans and ideas but i struggle with motivation and perfectionism — especially perfectionism. this has been a long standing problem on my end, but if every line is not to “my standard, or “perfect”, i feel deeply dissatisfied and i find it impossible to move on. i’m also very flighty — i get distracted easily, and lose momentum. i have so many ideas that i want to try out that i end up having a plethora of projects, none with a resolution. do you deal with this? what are your biggest struggles with writing? how do you move past them?

i also would like to say that i know that you’ve stated that writing is all for fun, but if you were to get published, i would 100% buy! i really hope you’re doing something in the creative industry, because really, your writing is amazing.

Hey, what up! Thanks so much!

If you'll permit a bit of tough love: it sounds like you don't really like writing those projects. There are a lot of reasons someone might leave a project, but when it comes to free hobby writing, if you've abandoned something, Occam's Razor, it's because you don't want to do it anymore.

And BTW: that's fine. You're not legally obligated to finish stuff. You're not under contract. If you're a hobby writer, your sole obligation is to have fun and please yourself. I've written tons of stories without middles or endings; I've got dozens of 3 or 4-chapter would-be longfics sitting on my drive, with absolutely no intention to finish them. I'm totally fine with that. This is something I do for fun. Why would I bully myself about not being sufficiently "productive" in something I'm doing for fun?

But it sounds like maybe you want to finish a fic, and/or see finishing as a prerequisite to publishing, in which case: you need to keep writing a project after you're bored or dissatisfied with it. In fact, I'd go so far as to suggest that you should go back through your drive, find the project you like least, and force yourself to write 1-2 pages on it. Because you are never going to be as pleased with what you've written as you are with the fake perfect story in your head. Even the worst, shittiest, misspelled, poorly plotted story that exists is better than the fake perfect story, because it exists, and is real writing, rather than just being the concept of something that is well-written. Abandoning a story because it doesn't live up to the hype is like refusing to eat because what's on the plate isn't as good as the Platonic concept of a chocolate cake. Like, of course it's not, dude! You didn't imagine it as having flaws!

It seems like you know that, which suggests that you need to force yourself to write something that you don't want to. So try shorter stuff! Writing short stories is a great way to learn the tools of the trade while giving yourself less time to burn out. Make it easy on yourself. And like, remember to forgive yourself. There are some things you can bully your brain into doing. Sincere and authentic art is not one of them.

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

New Year’s Day: A heavy poem about the end and the beginning

In the quiet of dawn, the world holds its breath,

A new year unfolds, yet I wrestle with death.

The calendar shifts, but the weight in my chest

Is a heavy reminder that I’m far from my best.

I watch as the sun spills its light on the ground,

While inside my mind, darkness spins round and round.

A dance of despair, where the whispers grow loud,

"Is this the end, or am I lost in a shroud?"

Each resolution feels like a fragile facade,

Promises made to a world that feels flawed.

I want to believe in the hope that they bring,

But shadows are cunning, and they steal everything.

The struggle is real; it’s a battle I fight,

A war within, hidden from most of the light.

I long for connection, for someone to see,

The turmoil that churns like a storm in the sea.

As laughter surrounds me, I wear a thin veil,

A smile on my face, though I’m ghosting the trail.

But inside, I tremble, on the edge of despair,

Wondering if anyone truly would care.

Do they know the weight of the thoughts that consume?

The darkness that lingers, the sense of impending doom?

Each day feels like walking through a thick fog,

And I’m battling demons that turn love into smog.

Yet in this moment, a flicker draws near,

A whisper of hope that perhaps I can hear.

Maybe this year, I can learn to be free,

To embrace all the struggle and still choose to be me.

So here on this New Year’s, I choose to hold tight,

To the flicker of light that cuts through the night.

I’ll reach for the hands of those willing to stand,

To walk through the fire, together, hand in hand.

For endings can birth a new chapter of growth,

And though I’ve been battered, I vow to make an oath:

To seek out the warmth in the faces I know,

To share my burdens, let my true feelings show.

New Year’s Day dawns, and while the struggle is real,

It’s a canvas of hope where I dare to feel.

With each passing moment, I’ll strive to believe,

That this is not the end, but a chance to retrieve.

A life full of colors, of laughter and tears,

A journey through shadows, facing deep-seated fears.

So, as the year turns, I’ll embrace what may come,

For in the fight for my life, I’m never truly done.

Or so I’m trying to grasp a fraction of a bringing,

To begin to believe all these positive things people spout on New Year’s Day.

That shit’s literally a joke, by the way,

When the echoes of doubt pull me back into gray.

They say, “New year, new you!” like it’s magic or gold,

But the truth is, these promises feel heavy and cold.

What if the dawn doesn’t change who I am?

What if the struggle just tightens the jam?

I scroll through the feeds, everyone smiling and bright,

Yet inside I’m still wrestling with my own endless fight.

While confetti falls down on the streets filled with cheer,

I’m trapped in a cycle, alone with my fear.

“Just think positive thoughts!” Oh, how easy they say,

But the mind is a maze where the shadows won’t play.

They don’t see the battles that rage deep within,

The moments of weakness, the heavy chagrin.

So, I sit on this cusp of what’s hopeful and bleak,

And I wonder if silence is all that I seek.

Can I carve out a path where the light might seep through,

Or am I destined to dwell in the gray and the blue?

Still, a flicker persists, faint but somehow alive,

But only to remind me how hard it is to strive.

I know that the journey won’t vanish today,

But I’ll continue to walk through the shadows, come what may.

So, here’s to the chaos, the mess that I own,

To the truths that I face, and the seeds I have sown.

Maybe this year, it’s not about perfect, but real,

To embrace all my flaws, and just let myself feel.

For in the laughter and tears, the confusion and strife,

I’m still navigating the void, weighed down by life.

And while New Year’s Day may feel like a jest,

I’m left with the darkness, with no place to rest.

[thornyrat]

Alright folks, now that it's 2025 i can confidently say that 2024 was a very shitty year, but at least i now live in this weird dimension that's called tumblr and made lots of mutuals, and i love each and every one of them (even if i don't talk to them much, mostly because i am terrible at startingconversations) you guys are awesome!

There is no "new year new me" since i'm pretty sure i'll stay the same old rodent, but i will try to continue (or actually start) one of my past projects, which are currently all sitting on a chair or staying in my head, as a new year resolution. However i don't know which to do since there are at least 10 different things ;-; so i'll let you guys choose!

If you want to vote in this but don't know what to choose, just use a number generator. What hasn't been chosen will probably come back next year anyway.

I'll try to put an update post every week once the voting is complete.

Since i haven't found any art i've made before June (thanks to the program for getting an update and erasing almost all data) i couldn't make the 2024 art compilation, but i did find a remake i've made of a 2022 oc, originally drawn as an exercise for a different artstyle (though i guess i was too tired to color it) so, 2024 vers on the left and original (2022) on the right, might remake it in its original style too

His name is Victor (and necronym is Vanessa)

Anyway, this post is getting long so i will stop here. Happy New Year!