#no one wrote it no one thought about it ahead of time and revised it SHIT JUST HAPPENS PEOPLE MAKE SNAP DECISIONS AND THERE'S DICE

[miscreantahead]

I have pent up JOY and need to vent so I'm listing time's in RQG I've lost my mind and ceased ability to function as of episode 82(they're on a desk with Isaac Newton for me rn): 1. When bertie fucking THREW BRUTOR OFF A BUILDING and then tried to squash him too but squashed Sasha instead and then Brutor totally turned on him (good boy.) 2. When it seemed like Zolf was gonna die in the cave-in in the catacombs and Hamid and Sasha kept rolling shit on their strength checks I like melted out of my seat I thought it was over.

3. When Zolf was hounding Wilde about failing all of his spells in Paris and then Wilde totally lost his usual cool and made a massive noisy dragon, that shit HIT. The SFX had me. 4. When Zolf was trying to kill bertie on the boat to Prague, and actually just the entire fucking trip to Prague with Harrison Cambell and everything. 5. Not dire but I just loved it so much I lost my head, when Sasha and Hamid were going shopping around Prague and having the best time together shortly after Zolf left, I was right there with them using the joy and fun to cope with the loss. 6. When bertie fucking NODDED like I shouldn't have been shocked but I still was that fucker never fails to break new ground with being THE SHITTIEST like the reward for doing that vs. doing nothing was like ABYSMAL but he still did it what the fuck do not RIP.

That's it for now I expect many more.

[writetheidea]

Shadows of the past

Hello, I made this blog solely to publish this fan fiction I wrote because the idea for the plot has been tugging at the back of my mind for months. I tried requesting it from a few writers but since they didn’t write it I remained unsatisfied. Then I remembered I also do have the ability to write.

This was thought of as a one shot. Upon receiving positive feedback and requests, a second part has been written.

Part 2

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x named!female character

Plot: Oscar's new relationship is strained by his family's constant reminders of his ex, Lily, and he fails to notice how this is affecting his girlfriend.

Tag: angst, hurt/no comfort, sad ending.

Word count: 2989

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though. I also haven’t written any work of fiction since I was a teenager, so this could be bad, I just had a need to get this fan fiction out of my brain. And once I wrote it, it felt like a waste to keep it on my laptop.

The new girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

I would like to explain that I do not think that Oscar's family would behave this way. This idea came from watching Nicole's interview in which she spoke highly about Lily and an unrelated conversation that day about families still speaking about and with ex-girlfriends.

Oscar sat in his motorhome, absentmindedly scrolling through social media notifications and posts. He wasn’t really paying attention to them. His mind was already on the track, anticipating the feel of the car and revising the strategies for the weekend. But, even as he tried to focus on the race ahead, something distracted him at the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet, something that had been running in his head for weeks.

Across from him, Mia sat quietly, going through her phone, though he knew it wasn’t holding her attention either. She hadn’t said much all day, her silence stretching thin between them like a thread on the verge of snapping. It wasn’t like her. At least, it wasn’t like how she used to be. When they first met, Mia had been a burst of energy, her laughter infectious, her smile like a safe heaven that had pulled him out of the chaos of being a public figure. But now… something had changed.

"Oscar, did you hear what I said?" Mia’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he had been paying attention to what she had been saying. But he hadn't.

Oscar blinked, eyes tearing away from his phone. "Sorry, darling. What did you say?"

Mia smiled, a small, strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I was asking if you wanted to go out for dinner later. You know, somewhere quiet, just the two of us. I found this place…"

Oscar nodded absentmindedly, his attention already drifting away. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Mia noticed his lack of attention, but she didn’t press the issue. She had grown used to his distracted responses over the past few months, so she just sat there, her fingers gripping her phone a little too tightly, and the silence between them growing heavier. It had been like this for a while now—Oscar lost in his racing, and Mia fading quietly into the background, unnoticed.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when his attention had been solely hers, when Oscar had looked at her with the kind of focus he reserved for the track. Lately, though, she had started to feel like she was slipping out of view, like she was losing her place in his world. And Oscar, so wrapped up in his career, didn’t see it. Not yet.

-----

It had started subtly, in ways Mia hadn’t been able to notice at first. When she had met Oscar, she knew this relationship wouldn’t have resembled her previous ones; she was stepping into a world of fame, pressure, and expectations. But she had been prepared for that—at least, she thought she had been.

The first time she had met Oscar’s family had been over a casual dinner. Nicole had been polite, her eyes studying Mia a little closely but never purely cold. And then there were his sisters, who seemed stuck between curiosity and indifference, their questions friendly but calculated.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that Mia first heard the name.

“Do you remember when Lily got us pizza in Monza?” Hattie had asked with a deliberate tone, her gaze flickering toward Oscar.

Mia had frozen for a second, her fork suspended midair. Lily. She had heard the name before, of course, Oscar had talked about her, the ex-girlfriend who had been with him through his early career. Mia hadn’t worried about her, assuming she was just part of his past.

“Oh, yeah,” Mae chimed in, laughing. “From that little family-run restaurant, right? God, I miss that place.”

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Lily was always so thoughtful. She always knew how to make us feel at home, no matter where we were.”

Mia’s chest tightened, the casual and affectionate mention of Lily, compared to how she had been addressed throughout the evening, slicing through the conversation like a shard of ice. She forced herself to smile, to nod along, pretending it didn’t bother her. But it did more than she wanted to admit.

Oscar had shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearing his throat. “Yeah, Lily was great” he had said quickly, then tried to change the subject. But the damage was done. The ghost of Lily hung over the rest of the evening like a shadow, lingering at the edges of every conversation and Mia’s mind.

-----

As the months passed, Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was living in someone else’s place, that no matter how much Oscar claimed to love her, no matter how much she tried to integrate herself into his life, she was no comparison to Lily. It wasn’t that his family was blatantly rude towards her, they were kind, but there was a warmth in their voices when they spoke about Lily that they didn’t extend to Mia.

Every race weekend, every family gathering, even every private moment with Oscar was tainted in her mind by the weight of someone else’s ghost.

It wasn’t until one afternoon in Monaco, when Mia stumbled across the ring, that the full weight of it hit her.

She had been tidying the bedroom while Oscar was out, taking advantage of the free time to clean the apartment, cleaning up a drawer of old clothes when she found it—a small, velvet box. Her heart had skipped a beat as she opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t unrealistic, Mia knew this wasn’t meant for her, her relationship with Oscar still too young to warrant a proposal. No. This ring wasn’t for her. It had been bought for someone else. For Lily.

Mia closed the box with trembling hands, her chest tightening as the realization washed over her. Oscar had been planning to marry Lily. He had been ready to propose, to make her his wife, to share his life with her in a way that as of lately Mia wasn’t sure he would ever want to with her.

She had never brought it up to Oscar. She couldn’t. How could she confront him about something like this? How could she admit that she had found evidence of a future he had once planned with someone else, a future that might have happened if things hadn’t fallen apart between them?

From that day on, the weight of it pressed down on her like a constant reminder. She tried to ignore it, to push the self doubt away, to remind herself it was all part of the past. But every time Oscar’s family mentioned Lily, every time they talked about her like she was still part of their world, Mia felt herself slipping further away from the confident, energetic woman she had once been.

-----

The Monaco GP was supposed to be a new start. Mia had somewhat convinced herself that her doubts were unreasonable, that her presence in Oscar’s life was concrete. She had been trying so hard to convince her mind, to smile through the subtle slights, to act as if Lily’s constant presence in conversations didn’t bother her. But Monaco was different. Monaco was where everything changed.

The paddock was buzzing with energy as usual, the yachts in the harbor reflecting the morning sun. Mia stood beside Oscar, her hand in his as they made their way through the crowd. Fans called out to him, snapping photos, but Mia barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere—on the small group standing near the McLaren garage.

There stood Oscar’s family. And Lily.

Mia felt her heart skip at the sight. Lily was just standing there, laughing with Nicole, looking as comfortable and at ease as she had in all the stories Mia had had to listen to in the past months. She was so effortlessly beautiful, with an air of confidence that Mia had always admired but now found unbearable.

Nicole’s eyes found Oscar, lighting up as she waved him over. “Oscar, darling! Come say hello.”

Mia felt herself stiffen, her stomach twisting into knots. Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mia before offering her a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll just be a minute,” he murmured, squeezing her hand before walking over to his family. To her.

Mia couldn’t bring herself to do anything but watch as he greeted them, his interactions with Lily casual but friendly, too friendly in her doubt filled mind. It was like watching him slip into an old role, a role he played with ease, with a counterpart Mia couldn’t quite replace.

They talked for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. Mia stood there, frozen as her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Oscar laugh at something Lily said, as his mother beamed at them, as if this was how things were supposed to be. As if Mia was the outsider, the intruder in a story that had never been hers to begin with.

-----

That night, the silence in their room was deafening.

Oscar had been talking about the race, but Mia hadn’t been able to focus. She hadn’t really said much all weekend, her responses short and her mind elsewhere.

“Mia?” Oscar called, his brows furrowed as he looked at her. “Is everything okay?”

She just stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to explain the feelings that had made a home in her mind. “Oscar… Do you ever think about her?”

He frowned, confused. “Who?”

“Lily,” Mia whispered, voice barely audible. “Do you still think about her? About… what could have been?”

Oscar blinked, startled by the question. “Mia, no. Of course not. I’m with you now.”

She shook her head, as she fought her anxiety and tried to gather the courage to say what had been haunting her mind for months. "You say that, Oscar, but… it feels like I’m always competing with her, against her presence in your life. And I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m constantly fighting against someone who’s not even here anymore."

Oscar’s expression softened as he stepped toward her, one of his hands reaching out to gently cup her face. "Mia, you are not. I don't think about Lily like that anymore. That part of my life is over."

"Is it?" Mia’s voice cracked, her eyes searching his for the reassurance she so desperately needed. "Because I’m not sure your family feels the same way. They still talk about her, still invite her to races. Nicole talks about her like she could still be a part of your life, like she is supposed to be a part of your life. And Oscar… I found the ring."

Oscar’s hand dropped from her face, his eyes widening in shock. "What ring?"

"The one in your drawer," Mia said, her voice trembling. "The engagement ring. The one you bought for her."

Oscar froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Mia… I didn’t mean for you to find that. I—I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago."

"Why didn’t you?" she asked. "Why didn’t you get rid of it if you had moved on? You kept it, Oscar, that has to mean something. And every time she is brought up, every time I notice her presence still somewhat in your life, I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Like I’m standing in her shadow, no matter what I do."

Oscar sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Mia, I didn’t keep the ring because I still have feelings for her. I kept it because… I never knew what to do with it. You are right, I did want to propose to Lily at some point, I couldn’t see that our relationship was dying, I was trying to deny it. But I didn’t propose in the end. I realized it wasn’t right. I never told you because I didn’t want to hurt you."

Mia hugged herself, staring at the floor. "But it does hurt now, Oscar. And it hurts every time they bring her up, every time they talk about how perfect she was, how much they loved her. It feels like I’m just… filling a spot that’s still meant for her."

Oscar stood up and reached for her again, his voice carrying an underlying urgency. "Mia, you’re not filling a space. I love you. I want to be with you. I thought you knew that."

"I thought I did too," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "But… I don’t know anymore. And I feel like I’m losing myself trying to live up to the memory of someone I’m not while you didn’t even notice how much it’s been affecting me."

Oscar’s heart sank as he took in her words, the weight of his and his family’s actions finally settling on his shoulders. He had known that they still cared for Lily, but he hadn’t understood how much it had been hurting Mia. And he hadn’t noticed how distant she had become, how her bright light had started to dim under the constant comparisons.

He sat back down, hands resting in his lap as he stared at the floor. "Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it was this bad."

Mia took a deep, shaky breath, tears staining her face. "You didn’t. I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Oscar. I love you, so much so that I have been willing to hurt myself to be with you, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Oscar looked up at her, desperation in his eyes at the implications of her words. "You are enough, Mia. You’ve always been enough."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "If I was enough, your family wouldn’t still be holding onto Lily. They wouldn’t be talking about her like she’s still the one for you… They wouldn’t make me feel like I’m always in second place in a one person competition."

Oscar felt his throat tighten, his guilt and frustration rising to the surface. He had been so focused on his career, on the races, that he hadn’t noticed how much this had been affecting Mia. And now, standing in front of him, she looked so lost, so hurt, that he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

"I’ll talk to them," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll make sure they understand. They can’t keep doing this to you—to us. I’ll set boundaries. I don’t want to lose you, Mia."

Mia’s gaze softened for a moment, but the pain in her eyes was still there. "It’s not just about them, Oscar. It’s about how I’ve been feeling invisible, like I don’t matter as much in your life. I don’t know if talking to them will change how I feel about myself now. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to fix this."

Oscar’s heart clenched. He could see the cracks in their relationship now, the ones he had been too blind to notice before. And he realized, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t something he could just fix with a few words or promises. This was deeper.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, his voice almost breaking. "Tell me what I can do to make this right."

Mia stood there for a long moment, staring at him, the weight of the decision she had come to after months of suffering heavy on her shoulders. She loved him, she had given everything to this relationship, but the constant reminders of his past with Lily had killed her confidence, her sense of security.

"I think…" she began, her voice shaky, "I think I need some time. Time to figure out if I can keep doing this, if I can keep being in this relationship without losing myself further."

Oscar felt a chill run through him at her words. "Mia, please don’t say that. Don’t say you’re leaving."

"I’m not leaving," she clarified, though the look in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty of their future. "But I need space. I need time to think about what’s best for me, because right now… I don’t feel like I’m good for you. And I don’t feel like this is good for me."

Oscar’s chest tightened painfully as he stepped toward her, his hands trembling as he reached for hers. "I love you. I don’t want to lose you."

Tears spilled from Mia’s eyes again as she looked down at their hands. "I love you too, Oscar. But love isn’t enough if I don’t feel like I belong in your life. If I don’t feel like your family accepts me. Like I can accept myself."

He swallowed hard, fighting his own tears. "I’ll make them understand. I’ll fight for us."

She pulled her hands away gently, taking a step back. "I need to fight for myself first."

Oscar felt the floor drop from under him as Mia turned toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorknob, before looking back at him with tears in her eyes.

"Please don’t hate them," she whispered. "I know they didn’t mean to hurt me. But… they did. And I don’t know how to fix that."

And with that, she slipped out of the room, out of the apartment, leaving Oscar standing alone, silence deafening around him. The weight of his family’s actions, of his own inaction, pressed down on him.

He had always thought he could balance everything—his career, his family, his relationship—but now, as the door closed behind Mia, he realized that he had been wrong. He had been so focused on winning races, on making his family happy, that he hadn’t seen the cracks forming beneath the surface of his relationship and in the heart of the woman he loved.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back.

[bao4aohao]

chap 1 - normal day

-> lowercase intended, 3rd pov -> warnings !! - none

You HATED physics but sadly you majored in physics, ironic isn't it?

you just hated it.

physics wasn't hard, in fact it was pretty straightforward to you if you actually studied and revise the topic. although the subject by itself wasn't hard, classes were worst. period. you dreaded it every second as you continue to hit the keys on your laptop, rushing to type in every second you got.

blaming on the boring talks and lectures, you often found yourself revising and writing your own notes before class. Then, staring on new ones during class. To you, the teachers wasn't as effective and felt it didn't benefited you at all so you decided to be one step ahead as a academic achiever you are.

walking into class as per usual, you got to your seat at the back. you put down your matcha latte that you had purchased, on your desk before starting your notes for the next week. Students started pouring in and soon the class was full.

you felt a tap on your shoulder and saw your best friend. you can't NOT notice that orange hair in the crowd of people. The cherry friend sat beside you as he smiled, radiating that natural happiness you needed.

" shoyou! so glad to see you bruh, I thought you wouldn't make it " you pouted, but giggled as you hugged him which he returned.

He laughed, " wellllllll..I wassss going to skip but something tells me I shouldn't skip today's class heh " he sheepishly rubs his head.

just then, the door slammed opened revealing a tall blonde male. Everyone looked at the unfamiliar male as he walked towards the board and wrote down his name.

he then turned around with the most resting bitch face and introduced himself, " my name's tsukishima kei but just call me sir to make things more easier. I'll be assisting takeda-sensei as he is away for whatever reasons. "

he slammed the books on the table and glared at everyone in the room before continuing, " also, I don't care what you do as long you're in my classroom, you listen when needed, speak when allowed and NO distractions. "

" did I made myself clear? "

the class nodded as the room became cold instantly. everyone could tell by the way people started looking in different directions hoping to not meet the scary eyes from the front, some were fidgeting with their hands or notes while others just try to look busy.

even shoyou stopped smiling and proceed to sink his seat, whining about his lost privileges of playing his mini games on his laptop.

' we're so dead ' the class thought in unison.

while everyone was doing different things, the blonde looked up and ended his speech with a short sentences that made everyone shiver.

" well, I hope we get along....really well " he smirked.

as if time stopped, you peaked for a second from your laptop. coincidence or not, your eyes met 2 golden orbs just staring or rather glazing at you as if you are his prey in the wild.

almost immediately, you broke contact and focus back on your notes. blush made its way to your cheeks as you try not to think about the moment you had awhile ago.

you can't deny the blonde wasn't extremely handsome. His tall structure and slender fingers delicately sway as he starts to teach the class about the first topic. everything about him just screams neat and polish, like a very high class person that eats caviar for breakfast.

-

3 hours soon passed and you were starving. you looked back at your freshly done notes in front of you as you smiled with glee.

however, you failed to notice tsukshima kei walking to you from the side and eventually towering over you. let's just say, he did not look too please.

he looked at the notes, knowing you didn't pay attention to his class at all he snatched it from your desk and loudly announced, " well done to everyone who paid attention except for miss- " he glanced at my name from your notes " -y/n here. since she is too busy doing other things, before tomorrow's class I expect everyone to write a 1000 word essay on why PAYING attention in class is important. "

the sounds of groans and some glared at you causing you to die inside, as you panicked seeing everyone in trouble because of you.

he smirked and leaned near your face as you move backwards until you hit your seat.

he whispered, " I'll keep these for now..see me after your last class here to get them back.." he pulls away as he turns around to leave but you caught his sleeve, begging.

" p-please don't punish the class! I'll take full responsibility for it!..just don't make them write the essay..please sir " you begged, already embarrassed by the negative attention you were receiving.

" fine since you asked so nicely, everyone don't need to d the essay. YOU shall write a 2000 essay instead " he grinned, finally walking to his desk in front. your jaw dropped at the arrogant blonde as you watch him say bye to the rest of your classmates and when he see you again, he smirked.

' that evil bitch ' you gasped, angerily forced your laptop and things into your bag as you stomped out of the classroom.

all the good thoughts about him vanished from your brain as all you thought was plotting his murder. too blinded by rage you even forgot about shoyou who was trying to catch up from behind.

one thing you knew you could never change is your anger issues. once you're mad mad, rage is all you could think of throughout the day. this eventually caused people to avoid you as you would glare or ignore them.

the first class was suppose to be a good start of the day, why did you have to end up like this?

you knew the only thing that can reduce your anger was food. that's why you walked quickly to the caferteria hoping to enjoy a good meal to calm yourself.

intro | next | main pg

NOTES

shoyou was still trying to catch up FML bro was thinking how you can walk so fast

© all works are done by @ bao4aohao do not copy/rewrite/steal thank you.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!  

Corporal Y/N  Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

Taglist:

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@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley @ohjustpeachy1 @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @precious-little-scoundrel @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @prompted-wordsmith @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @stylespresleyhearted @elv1s-is-pretty @crash-and-cure

[becauseimanicequeen]

4 Minutes Theories (Ep. 7)

In this post, I've compiled my theories from my initial reaction to the trailer and the teaser (which were kind of sweeping since the trailer and teaser didn't give me much to get super detailed about), the new ones I've written down after watching new episodes (episode 1, episode 2, episode 3, episode 4, episode 5, and episode 6), and some new wild-ass theories I've written in some scattered posts.

Just like last week, I will go through my theories one by one. Let's see how wrong I am this time, and how (un)likely the other theories are. Like last time, I might develop some of my theories and add some new ones as well.

Let's go!

Pre-premiere theory: The moments Great sees ahead of time are moments that might help him redeem himself from a past mistake/transgression. (Unconfirmed)

I can't decide whether I should confirm this or not considering I can't decide whether Great's do-overs were based on him redeeming himself or an obstinate need to "prove" to Tyme that he's not a coward.

I'll keep this theory around for a while longer and decide later on.

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Korn will do some shady shit to prove to his dad that he can take over the family business. (Unconfirmed)

Even though there's not a family business to take over anymore, I will keep focusing on Korn proving himself to his dad.

He was definitely doing some shady shit. Especially in the real past timeline we saw in the 6th episode. But, I need actual proof.

I'm wondering what he'll do when he finds out Tonkla shot Great, because I'm sure he'll find out somehow. So I'm keeping this theory unconfirmed for now.

Pre-premiere theory: Title is involved with Korn. (Unconfirmed)

Before watching the first episode, I thought Title might've been a brother or that they had a boss/minion relationship (based on the similarities in their posters).

However, ever since I got a hunch before the 4th episode that Title might be Fasai's brother and that his dad, then, is Police Colonel Warit (which might've been confirmed in this week's episode, depending on who the "chief" is, because it could just as well be the man who saw the footage of Title and Great dumping Dome's body), that would at least be a semi-connection to Korn (via Fasai). But I want more.

I will confirm this theory if Korn gets involved in finding Title's killer (because he is killed, right? Even though we haven't gotten it confirmed, he must be dead, right?).

But, if we don't get to see Korn involved in that, I will half-confirm this if Title is Fasai's brother (and, therefore, has a semi-connection with Korn).

Revised/developed pre-premiere theory: Tonkla is at the center of it all. (Unconfirmed)

This theory was based on the background of the poster for Fuaiz/Tonkla. At first, I thought he had a target on his back (which could still be true considering he shot Great), but I feel like it's developed more into Tonkla being at the center of this whole thing.

What if the background on his poster is something like a spider's web rather than a target, and that he's at the center of it?

So, last week (or the week before? I can't even remember anymore, lol), I wrote that I would only label this theory as confirmed if Tonkla's timeline is the real timeline (which it seems to be, even though there are some anomalies as well) and if he becomes the prime suspect in both Great's shooting and Title's death (if Title's dead, because, you know, we didn't get to see it and it hasn't yet been confirmed...). I would love to see the look on Korn's face when he realizes Tonkla shot his half-brother.

In other words, I'm keeping this theory until proven wrong or right.

Pre-ep. 2 theory: Tonkla will betray Korn. (Unconfirmed)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm rooting for a betrayal. I don't really care if Tonkla reveals all of Korn's dirty laundry to Win, if he ends up beating the shit out of Korn with a rock, or shoots him straight through the heart. I just want Tonkla to fuck shit up.

If shooting Great is the only betrayal we get, I'll half-confirm this theory.

If Tonkla ends up killing Korn as well, I'll confirm it.

(I'm hoping for the latter. Not because I want my theory confirmed, but because I want to see how Korn reacts when he realizes his sugar baby is about to end his life.)

Pre-premiere theory: Win is battling some contrasting, opposing forces (internal and/or external). (Unconfirmed)

This theory was based on the background of the poster for JJay/Win. I solely based it on the red and green contrasting colors.

Ever since it was revealed in the 2nd episode that Win works for the police, I've had the feeling that the contrasting forces he's battling are his attachment/feelings for Tonkla and his duty to uphold the law. I mean, he went rogue for Tonkla at one point. And now he's basically giving Tonkla the information to kill the ones who hurt him. How will Win react to that?

I could label this as confirmed already, considering Win has gone rogue and because he's giving Tonkla information from an ongoing investigation. But I want more.

I will label this as confirmed if we get to see Win struggle with what to do (whether to arrest Tonkla, let him escape, or sweep away the evidence) when he finds out Tonkla is behind the killings.

Pre-premiere theory: Den has a situationship with Korn. (Unconfirmed)

I'm not keeping this theory because I want Korn and Den together.

I'm keeping this theory only because I want to see Bas and Job together. This is a delulu wish of mine, and I will keep being delulu about this until I get it (which I won't).

(I'm still on my "Non is alive" agenda, so I can keep this wish alive forever, lmao.)

Pre-premiere theory: Fasai is the other character with a condition similar to Great’s. (Unconfirmed)

This won't happen (since the character they talked about in the trailer, which was where I got this theory from, was Lukwa). The only reason I'm keeping this theory is because I need the show to prove to me that Fasai doesn't have precognitive abilities so I can label this as wrong and move on.

Now, can you give me more of Fasai in next week's episode? I need more of Natty on my screen! Please, and thank you!

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Tyme has a precognitive ability similar to Great’s (or might develop one). (Unconfirmed)

I was right that Tyme would also have an OOBE, and I was right that his heart also stopped at 11:00.

The question is if Tyme will also get a precognitive ability (or some other supernatural power) now that he's in his OOBE timeline.

It's possible, so I'm keeping this theory.

Revised/developed wild-ass pre-ep. 2 theory: Tyme is having his own out-of-body experience. (Confirmed)

We got it confirmed in this week's episode. Not a surprise that this theory would be confirmed, though, but still.

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Fasai (and/or her father) is in league with someone within the police force. (Confirmed)

This was actually confirmed last week. I totally missed that Samarn asked Korn how much longer Police Colonel Warit (who they called a general in the subs, btw, but it said Pol.Col. Warit on him on MDL a couple of weeks ago when I needed to double-check on another character's name, so I'm going with Police Colonel) could delay things for them to get rid of the evidence at the headquarters for the illegal gambling sites. So, we've already seen (or, technically heard) that Fasai's dad is in league with the police force and misusing his power.

Pre-ep. 3 theory: There are different timelines at play. (Unconfirmed)

Well, this one is pretty obvious, right? I've written a long ass post about my thoughts on the timelines and a post with the scenes in the first 6 episodes in chronological-ish order (including both the real past and the different timelines).

Besides the obvious ones (the real past, Great's OOBE timeline, Tyme's OOBE timeline, and the present), I also feel like there might be something going on with Tonkla.

Last week (or some weeks ago, I can't remember...) I wrote that I would only confirm this if I get the majority of these timelines confirmed, which I already have. But I don't mind waiting another week to find out if there is another timeline or not. So, I'm keeping this theory here for now.

Pre-premiere theory: Great’s (Bible’s) tattoos have something to do with the story. (Because I refuse to believe otherwise! lol) (Unconfirmed)

I'm pretty sure this isn't true. However...

Just like I wrote last week (and the week before that, and the week before that, and the week before that...): I swear I'm keeping this theory because it hasn't been confirmed (or denied), yet. That's the only reason I'm keeping this theory.

I swear I'm not keeping this theory to add this image to at least one post I write each week. Nope, that's not the reason...

Pre-ep. 3 theory: Great has 4 minutes to wake up/get his heart to start beating again. (Unconfirmed)

This theory has already been confirmed through Lukwa and through Den's research. But I want to see what happens, if Great does/doesn't wake up. So I'm keeping this a little longer, even though it's basically already confirmed.

Pre-premiere theory: Someone will die/fake their death. (Unconfirmed)

As I've written in the previous posts in this series on my 4 Minutes theories, this theory was pretty obvious from the start. Sammon kills characters all the time, lol.

But, I also mentioned in one of the previous posts that I won't confirm this theory until one of the more important characters dies. And that's excluding Great and Tyme.

Technically, Dome has already been killed by Title. But, I need more.

I've previously speculated on who would be killed and wrote Dome, Title, and perhaps Korn, which I still stand by.

Title is probably already dead, even though it hasn't been confirmed. As soon as he (or Korn, or both) is dead (and confirmed to be dead, because finding an unidentified body isn't enough, lol), I'll mark this theory as confirmed.

Pre-ep. 4 theory: Great's actions during his OOBE won't change anything in the present. (Unconfirmed)

I want Great to wake up and face the consequences of whatever he did (or didn't do) in the real past. Or die knowing he can't change shit, lol.

We'll (probably?) find out in the next episode.

Pre-ep. 4 theory: The note saying "Can you forgive me, Great?" is written by the mystery woman in the gallery. (Wrong)

Well, I will mark this as wrong.

Too bad I didn't use my initial theory in this post though, especially the part where I thought that particular note came from someone who talked to Great at the hospital in the present. It's just that the words were filtered through Great's mind, which is probably why the handwriting was different.

Am I sad I didn't use this theory in these posts? No. Because I know I was, kind of, right anyway, lol.

Pre-ep. 7 theory: Tyme and Great met as kids (Confirmed)

I based this theory on the way Tyme said "You're still afraid of dogs?" in last week's episode. And it was quickly confirmed.

Pre-ep. 5 theory: The bodies the police find are the people who died in the real past. (Unconfirmed)

I'm guessing the real reason we haven't found out who that second body belongs to is because Tonkla hasn't killed Title yet from our current vantage point. I think he shot Great before he killed Title.

But, anyway, it's already been confirmed that Dome's body was found. And I'm pretty sure the second one is Title. I just need it confirmed.

It would be nice if they could find Nan's body too and take down Samarn.

Anyway, I'm keeping this theory for now.

Wild-ass pre-ep. 2 theory: Great will get Tyme's heart (after Tyme is shot). (Unconfirmed)

This is not the Transplant I want, btw. But it might be possible (probably not).

(Disclaimer: I'm not a medical professional. I have no idea if this is medically possible considering where Tyme was shot and how far he might be from a hospital (since I know a body needs to be hooked up to a ventilator to be able to keep the organs alive if organ donations are to be possible). So, excuse my lively imagination, lol.)

I haven't had the time to develop this theory, which I've been wanting to do for weeks now. I have so much to say about it (even though most of it will never happen, lol).

So, I'm keeping this theory even though I know it won't happen.

Wild-ass pre-ep. 3 theory: The number 4 marks a character with death. (Unconfirmed)

The number 4 (which in Cantonese is pronounced very similarly to the word "death") marks characters with death. Either actual death or something like a cardiac arrest (which can be saved).

Those characters are:

Great, who started off in bed 4 in the 1st episode, and is surrounded by the number during his OOBE.

Manee, who is lying in room number 4 at the hospital. (It's already been confirmed that she's dead in the real past.)

View, Title, and Dome who are near the 4 on the trashcan in the 2nd episode. (It might just be one or it might be all three, my guess is all three. And Dome is already confirmed to be dead in the real past.)

The elderly lady in bed 4 that Great had intubated even though Den said it might've been more humane to let her die.

And Tyme who is around the number several times at the hospital and on the escalator when he and Great were at the shopping mall, etc.

Also, since the show is playing with different timelines, the number 4 might signify the characters that die/died in the real past/present:

Great, who was shot and flatlined at the hospital.

Tyme who was also shot and is now experiencing his OOBE.

Manee, who Great hit with his car and left to die.

View, who might've been killed by Title if Great hadn't helped her escape from him in his OOBE timeline?

Dome, who was killed by Title.

Title, who, let's be honest, will die (most likely murdered by Tonkla).

And the elderly lady in bed number 4 who will, most likely, die because of her illness.

Let's see how wrong I am about this.

I will confirm this if I get the majority correct. And, I will say that NDEs don't count. I want them dead and gone, lol.

Predictions going into the last episode:

Korn will find out Tonkla shot his brother, and then he'll die (hopefully at the hands of Tonkla).

Win will die (because he's an idiot).

Warit will die (because I want him to).

Chanin will die (because he's an asshole).

Great's mother will survive because I need her to lose it when she realizes her son's been shot.

Fasai, who is done with the idiot men in her life, will become Prime Minister (this won't happen, but I wanted to add that here anyway, lol).

Great and Tyme will reunite in Tyme's OOBE and realize there's nothing they can do to change reality, so they chill in these last 4 minutes they get together.

The end.

Let's see how wrong I am.

(Btw, if Lukwa could wake up from her OOBE because of her lover's voice, will Natcha come back and get Tyme to wake up? And, the way Great's eye moved when Tyme talked to him in the ICU... It's possible that Tyme can get Great to wake up. But Tyme seems fucked, lol. Someone will probably find him and get his some help, though. The place wasn't that abandoned, right?)

Results so far:

Total theories since the trailer: 37

Confirmed theories: 11.5

Unconfirmed theories: 17.5

Wrong/scrapped theories: 8

[farfromstrange]

Are You Okay? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to hear is one question and one person to make your shitty day not so shitty anymore.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, fear of failure, not proofread (I put Grammarly over that bitch, but that's it), no y/n

A/n: I wrote this in an hour because I'm stressed as fuck and my state of mind is so complicated right now, I didn't know how else to explain it. Also, why is statistics such a bitch to study? And what do I care about fucking behaviorism? I'm already done with Freud and Piaget and those get on my last nerve already, I don't need Bandura to add to my emotional despair, but oh well, here we are. This is completely self-indulgent and I channeled what's happening in my school life into this one, so if it doesn't fit with the American school system, I'm sorry, but I didn't want to research.

Word Count: 2.7k

You’ve been locked in your room for the majority of the past week, the study notes of the past semester strewn around you, and you swore at the beginning of the week that you would revise every last note at least once. In the end, you panicked more than you studied, but you managed to summarize about half of your notes, which should fill you with glee, but as you stare down at your stack of cards, you’re filled with dread and the purest form of self-hatred. What did you do the entire week that you only got so far? You left your room once, but it was a short walk around the block to air your head, with still many hours of the day left to spare. You swore you would get everything you needed to be done, and you swore to yourself that the next five weeks of exam season were going to be your bitch, but looking at the calendar now you realize, those five weeks still lay ahead of you and you are not even nearly done with everything you swore you would get done. 

Your head screams, “Failure!” And you’re starting to think that maybe your head is right. Maybe you are lazy and that is why your grades have been dropping or your teachers are disappointed or you just can’t seem to get the information into your thick skull even though someone once told you, “You can do it!” You figure that was a lie too. There is no way you can manage to ace all your upcoming tests and the final exams, and part of you is starting to fear you might not be able to graduate. There is too much in your head, too much stress, and too much performance anxiety, but as you look around yourself you don’t realize why you’re so stressed - in your head, it appears as if you spent the entire week playing video games and did the bare minimum, and not even that did you manage. You really don’t understand how you can be stressed and not even halfway done with all of your schoolwork. You’re stressed about being stressed, and you’re stressed about studying so you try to study, but your head blacks out and the day suddenly doesn’t have enough hours for you to think about yourself and the work you have to do, so you just sit back and stare at an empty page in the hopes the words will come out and you can just memorize all of the fucking information on your study notes. You don’t want to be the best, you’ve given up on that, but you want to pass, you need to pass because damn, you want to get out, you want to move on and get out and get on with life, but the load keeps getting bigger and your grades keep swindling. How can the load get bigger when you haven’t left your room in a week, and how did you not manage to finish revising all of your notes even though you definitely had the time and the means? You don’t understand and at this point, you have resorted to watching trash tv to keep your mind from reeling, but even that seems not enough anymore. You can’t eat without upsetting your stomach and the thought of going back to class the next day, having to study more and revise more, and the end moves closer and closer, but never close enough, and the entire pile of documents, anxiety, and stress starts to bury you alive. You can’t remember a second you allowed yourself to properly breathe, to stop your thoughts from racing and focusing on something else. You can’t remember a time you allowed yourself a step away from studying or procrastinating and freeing your head so you can get back to work with newfound energy. All of that seems so… impossible now. You want to pass, but your head keeps telling you that you won’t. You won’t pass. You will fail and everyone will hate you because you will be the only one. You’re scared, you’re terrified even and you can’t do this anymore. You want out of your body, out of your mind, and out of this life just for a second, just until the worst is over and everything has resolved itself. 

You know that’s not possible. 

Your friends are emotionally unavailable, busy with themselves, mostly, and your family is as annoying as ever. No one’s asked about you, most of them have dodged your messages or answered with a clear, “Sorry, we can’t.” It feels as if no one can help you out of this hole you’ve dug for yourself, so you decide to sit in it and wait for the dirt to swallow you. 

Your skin tingles, you’re tired and there is this overwhelming urge to cry. You miss being touched, you miss being taken care of, but there is no time and you just can’t ask. The one person you can ask is across campus and has no idea what’s going on because you told him you’d need the week to study, so he told you he’d leave you alone until then. It’s Sunday now. He hasn’t called or texted and you’re starting to wonder if he’s sick of you as you are of yourself. 

Before the thoughts can turn any darker, and they have gotten significantly darker, there is a knock on your door. You probably smell disgusting, your room is a mess and you should have opened a window, but it’s significantly colder outside today, there is snow and you just hate the way everything but your blanket and the new episodes of America’s Next Top Model make you feel. You’ve driven yourself so far into loneliness, you’re starting to believe that this is actually just who you’re supposed to be. 

You get off the makeshift seating area among your study notes off the floor and walk to the door. You don’t bother checking who’s outside. If it is a murderer, at least you can miss your exams and not feel guilty, and the general heavy pain that drags your soul down to your feet and keeps it there would finally go away. 

Seeing Matt Murdock’s face at your door doesn’t surprise you, you simply step aside and let him in. doesn’t say anything, simply taps his can forward until he can find his way into your room. His nostrils flare, but either he doesn’t smell the bucket of untouched fries and garlic sauce on the counter and how you haven’t showered in four days or he’s being respectful about it. You kind of wish he would just flat-out tell you that you smell and probably look like shit, not that he could judge, but he could probably sense with the way everything feels like a mess around him, that would make your guilt and pain so much worse but at least you could feel something else for a change. You’d be hurt, but it would be a different kind of hurt, one that could distract you from the demons gnawing at your heart. 

“You want a drink?” you ask, your voice hoarse from both the lack and the overuse of sleep as a coping mechanism. 

He stands lost in the room, or maybe he’s waiting, you’re not sure. You get a beer for him from the fridge, but instead of drinking it, he takes it and places it back down on the counter. 

You stare at him, a little confused, and maybe your pride is also a little hurt that he would turn down your nice gesture. 

“Are you okay?”

The question confuses you, at first, and you’re not quite sure how to process it. Those three words sound so foreign, the week you’ve been through suddenly feeling like years without him, and as he’s standing before you now, his question awakening something in you, unscrewing the lid and popping the cork, you realize just how much you have missed him. How you have missed this. How you have missed being acknowledged and asked about, even if it was just a simple, “Are you okay?” 

It finally settles in and the question makes you feel a lot of things at once, but none of them are simple, and none of them you can explain, but you know how they make you feel and they definitely answer his question with something he can feel in the way you tense up. 

You bite your lip. “No,” you admit silently, although it feels wrong to say it because why are you not okay? You should be. You have to be.

But Matt isn’t like that. 

“Do you need a hug?” he asks. 

Fuck him, you think. He’s read you better than you could have read yourself. 

You nod again. “Yes.”

“Okay, c’mere.”

As it turns out, a hug is exactly what you needed and half of the uneasiness you have been feeling must have been a serious case of touch starvation.

He opens his arms and allows you to take the first step, and you do. You step forward to lazily drape your arms around him, but he soon wraps you up tightly in his and squeezes you in the way he knows you need. The physical decompression, his fresh smell, the sound of his heartbeat, and his hands roaming your back open the flood gates, and seconds after you are crying heavily into his chest. You unload all of the stress and all of the anxiety, clinging to him for dear life, but he doesn’t mind. He lets you cry, sob and whimper until you’re too weak to stand and even then he only carries you over to your couch and sits down with you in his lap, still holding you like you are a fragile little thing (which you are, now that you think of it) and he refuses to even think about letting you go. 

He kisses your head. You’re still shaking, but there are no more tears to cry. “Why didn’t you call?” he asks you. 

His voice sounds so soft and it makes you whimper again, wiping your eyes on his already wet shirt. “Why didn’t you call?” you bite back. 

“Because you said you wanted to study. I didn’t want to interrupt you, sweetheart. I know how caught up you get and I wanted to give you space. If I had known-”

You can’t help it. You are safe from the world in his arms so you allow yourself to voice the one thought that has been keeping you on edge, “I’m going to fail, Matty.”

He holds your face away from his, feeling your contorted features and the stress wrinkles on your forehead. “What?” 

You only then realize he took off his glasses and you can see his brown eyes perfectly like that. That only makes you shake harder because he cares so damn much and you never have needed him more than you do now.

“I’m going to fail,” you say again, “because I’m useless and dumb and I can’t get anything right. I can’t even get anything done. I’m such a failure and I am going to fail every goddamn test and I am going to fail my finals and I’m-”

Matt shushes you again by taking you in his arms, and a new wave of tears rattles you. “You are not going to fail,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “You’re not a failure, you’re not dumb and you are not useless. You made it this far. You passed all of your previous classes. You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he says, “so you are not going to fail now.”

“But what if I am?”

“Everything can happen, but you are not going to fail. I know you and that is not what you do.”

“I barely got anything done this week. I swore I’d study, but-”

“How much do you have left?”

You sniffle and look behind you. God, your floor is a mess. “A lot,” you admit. 

“Too much for one day?”

“Probably,” you break off with another sob. He keeps your head upright though. Instead of shushing you, he gets up, kneels on the floor, and touches your study notes. He can’t read them, they’re not in Braille, but he can smell the different highlighters you have used and he can separate the topics accordingly. “It’s the stack on the right, isn’t it?” 

You rub your eyes. “Yes.”

“And that’s what?”

“Statistics, behaviorism and, um… I don’t know, cognitive development, maybe. I can’t remember. God!” Thinking about it makes you nauseous. “I can’t even remember, Matt. I am so going to fail!”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips to shush you softly. His hand motions for you to join him on the floor. With some struggle, he finds the stack you’ve been talking about. He hands it to you. 

“You’re going to take these and spread them out,” he tells you, “While I take care of those you’ve already summarized, alright?”

You stammer, “What?”

“We’re gonna start with statistics. You are going to go through your notes at your speed while you tell me about them, and I’m gonna rub your back while you do. If you need a break,” he says, “We’re gonna take a break. If you wanna stop, we stop. And if you want me to stay until you’re done with both topics, I’ll stay for the boring behaviorism stuff, too.”

Somehow his readiness to help you without even knowing what he, ever the law student, is helping you with makes you cry even harder. He understands you in a way nobody can, and he never pressures you, not even when it comes to your classes. He knows you torture yourself enough and Matt being Matt, he can’t have you being sad. 

He stays true to his promise. He sits behind you, rubbing your back as you go over your notes, summarize them and tell him about them. Statistics are the bane of your existence, but psychology relies on them, so you’re forced to relive the worst module of your life. But with him by your side, telling you every so often, “You are doing such a good job,” and, “I know you can do it, baby,” it’s a lot easier. 

At around eight, your stomach growls, but you are long done with the statistics part and have decided, with some of Matt’s encouraging words, that there is still time tomorrow to get done with behaviorism and then when you’re done with both, he told you, he’d help you memorize. He hasn’t decided how yet, but he is determined and as the sun goes down and you lay in his arms, freshly showered and shaven on your bed, you can’t help but stare at his beautiful face. You would have lost your mind without him, you don’t doubt that, and he somehow always knows when to come and what to do. He knows when you feel down and when you need space. He knows you better than you know yourself and that is something no one but Matt Murdock has ever accomplished. 

Without him, you are pretty sure you would maybe not have failed your classes but you would have failed at life. Your mind would have failed you and you would have drowned. But with him, you’re a little more alive. 

“I love you,” you tell him sometime after he forced you to eat proper dinner, and he gently smiles against your hair. 

“I love you,” he says. “And you are going to do great, I just know it.”

“You have so much faith in me.”

“Well, one of us has to. Besides,” he flips you over so that he can hover over you, his brown hair falling from his face into yours and you giggle at his antics, “I am a good catholic boy. If I didn’t have faith in the divine, where would I be?”

His words leave you gasping, but nothing can match up to the force and passion he kisses you with. Psychology and messy room long forgotten, you melt into his touch and let his hands and lips speak a language only the two of you understand, and they always manage to pull you out of any hole with a symphony that has become your favorite music.

[francixoxoxo]

do you have any tips on how to write often? i’ve been busy when when i do write i start being a perfectionist and too all in my head to actually write something :(

you’re an amazing writer and i’m so amazed how you’re able to release such quality work back to back

Ok first of all thank you that’s the best compliment ever 😭😭❤️❤️

Okay, the first thing is that your first draft won’t be perfect. So you just write whatever comes to mind, and every time you come back to that draft, you’ll think of a new way to reword that sentence. So just get your thoughts down, come back and revise until it’s the quality you want. Even use place-words when you’re certain there’s a better word, like [word for mean] or [way to say she’s unlucky]. Just write and write and write so that you have something to revise.

Second is that write when you’re inspired. If you write when you aren’t feeling it, you’ll write shitty and then you’ll lose motivation to go on. So I try and write with music that fits the fic, or what I did for my ballerina fic when I lost motivation, watch a short film on YouTube related to the topic. It genuinely helps a lot to write about something that you enjoy/are inspired for, because when you’re inspired the words will flow nicer. Of course they won’t be perfect the first time around, but it totally feels better and makes it more fun.

And honestly, as to how fast I write, I’m gonna be totally honest. I’m not starting one, finishing it in a day and onto the next, I have a handful of drafts that I pick at (specifically 6 right now), and post one when I’m close to being done with another. For instance, as I posted Beautiful Girl, I was already working on Lay Back, Relax. So it seems like I wrote the latter really fast, but I actually was just picking at both at the same time. I stay a few steps ahead of whatever I post, so there isn’t so much dead time between fics, and to keep myself busy, because I genuinely enjoy writing. If you’re focusing on one fic, I’m sorry to say I don’t have very good personal advice to give because I only really look fast since I have a roster to pick at. But the best advice I can give as to writing fast, is to be motivated, to truly enjoy the fic and the universe, and to be inspired to write.

I really hope this was helpful because I’ve been told I’m really bad at explaining things/how my process and brain works, I’m not sure how to explain well

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

for the title ask game: We Were Gods (we were kids)

I want to hear more about that one, that's a riveting title! :eyes:

Ahhh yes, so originally this fic was inspired by the song Battle Cries by The Amazing Devil. It's a duet and like a divorce song? "This isn't a break-up, dearheart, it's a season finale!" I got the title from the lyrics where one part sings the line "We were gods" and then the other part echoes it with "We were kids" and that's just *chefs kiss* perfect fanfic title thank you TAD <333

The premise was childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to supers fighting on opposite sides to reluctant allies to (finally) lovers. And it was going to be a parkner fic (peter parker/harley keener). It was going to be an epic slow burn spanning nearly their whole lives.

Then I thought why not pry it out of its fanfic foundation and stand it on its own as an original concept? Harley is essentially my OC and Peter could be shaped into an OC too and the plot I had in mind had hardly any of the source material in it so why not? I'd just tweak some names, create my own super powers and aliens and then boom! Book!

Didn't work 🙃 I wrote a 110k draft and got to the end and was like wow this sucks. I half-assed the world building and tried to hang onto plot devices that just don't work outside the mcu (they don't even work within the mcu but I digress) SO now we're back to square one: making it a fanfic. Except it's not really square one because I have 110k that I need to snip and prune and repot back into a fic.

Actually it's more like 85k bc I have to re-write the beginning since I ended up keeping that part for my book, but the rest just needs reworked into something I like with the characters that we know and love plugged back in. It's going to be a massive revision project but not any more difficult than writing the thing lol

But anyway! It's going to feature super villain!Harley which I am very excited about. He is sooooo tortured in this one and Peter has the shittest luck in the whole world <333

I don't have a good excerpt to share so here is the high-level outline for part one!

Part 1: Childhood

Peter’s parents die in a plane crash. He moves to Rose Hill to live with Uncle Ben and Aunt May and meets Harley

Harley has his hands full with… his dad just walked out. He wasn’t abusive. It was just shocking and all at once. They thought something terrible happened, but after they report him missing Scotty at the corner store stops by and says he sold him scratchers. Then a few hours later the sheriff stops over with his hat in his hands and tells them his truck was found in the lot at the airport in Nashville. “Let him go,” Mama says. “Don’t want no man who don’t wanna be around. Let ‘im go.” And that was the end of that.

Peter arrives while Harley is getting used to being the only one home after school. Abbie’s off with Mrs. Farley in town while Mama works, so it’s just him most days ‘til Mama gets home around 5.

Starts hanging out with the Parkers. They keep him ‘round for dinner. Scares Mama the first time bc he didn’t ask ahead and wasn’t home when she got there. She demands to meet them.

They get on great and once they learn of her newly single situation they offer to watch Harley in the afternoons until she gets home from work. No need for payment or thank yous—it just so happens that Peter could really use a friend right now and they’ve been getting along so well.

So it begins. No creek. No pokemon. Peter and Aunt May clash like the dickens, but Uncle Ben is always cool and rational and settles things before they go too far. It’s nice.

Peter is obsessed with planes and tracking flights and researching news of lost flights, crashes, etc. Huge fear of flying, but not of heights. This fear stays with him, even when Harley turns into a flying superhero.

EJ is Harley’s bully. Harley is a talkative little nerd with a stutter and a penchant for mathematics. He attracts the mean types and Peter has a loud bark and never has had the good sense to back down from a fight. The shared battles cement them together.

After being blindsided by his dad leaving, Harley had to reevaluate everything he thought about family. Family is no longer who you get along with, despite differences. It’s no longer who you put on a smile for. It’s who you can disagree with and still hug and laugh with at the end of the day. It’s refreshing that he always knows where he stands with the Parkers. They have big feelings and they don’t bury them, but they’re solid. They’re dependable. They’re there.

Then the Parkers move to New York and leave Harley behind and his theory on what makes a family falls apart all over again.

[fangbangerghoul]

I saw @bearlytolerant's wip wednesday and it inspired me to dig through my wooden chest(my drive) of wip projects. Lately I only have shared a few with her cause they contain our OCs buuuuuut this one project I was eventually going to publish as a fun side project while I worked on my main one, that I am eventually going to put out. (I swear)

I just finished my research paper which was my last big paper. (i wrote 13 pages and I only needed 6 but my paper was about the local news, local policy, and local elections and 6 pages was just too little for that).

I have two mini papers for my American Political Systems class then revise all of my Writing and Rhetoric papers to turn in, AND THEN the final Writing and Rhetoric paper. So hopefully by May i will actually get to breathe a little and focus on creative writing again.

UNTIL THEN

here's a small snippet under the cut (Valentine is @bearlytolerant's OC; I watch him on the weekends)

“That’s the forest for you. Trees everywhere with lots of animals to occupy their time.” Gale poked his way into their conversation, eager to put in his thoughts. Ghoul occasionally liked to hear the subjects the wizard liked to ramble on about but his muddied thoughts were not helping her in this moment. 

“Yes. I am aware.” Ghoul responded plainly. 

“Well, you let us know if we need to be on guard. Or tell the leader ahead though...he looks not all there today.” Karlach did a little circular motion with her finger by her ear when referencing Val and it got a laugh out of Ghoul. She noticed no one had caught on to Valentine's vices just yet and it was amusing to see the members slowly think he just had a loose screw. Which probably wasn’t too far off. 

It wasn’t long before another crunch sounded off in the forest and this time it was closer than she appreciated. There was only a second to react as a whiz sounded by her ear. Her arms moved without time for her thoughts to catch up. She threw a knife towards Val, making the party pause with surprise and annoyance before they noticed her knife had stopped an arrow from hitting their leader in the knee. Once the realization set on their faces everyone became alert looking into the forest around them waiting for the enemy to make themselves known. Ghoul now had her back to the party and looking towards the direction the arrow had flown from. 

“I owe you one.” Val said with a smirk as he closed the space between them and stood by her side also searching. His brown eyes were focused and his breathing slightly stilled.  

“I can think of a few ways you can make it up.” She retorted with a devilish grin, her eyes returned their focus on the direction of the arrow. 

“While all of that sounds like a lovely sentiment, perhaps we should be focusing on where the enemy might be?” Astarion anxiously huffed out. Ghoul took a quick glance to notice his widened red eyes looking slightly frantic for the unknown that was out to get them. 

“Then it’d be best for your bow to be pointed towards the other side.” Ghoul quipped, trying to not let her focus dissipate. Astarion silently followed her order and Karlach and Gale both were in defensive positions. It was only a matter of time before another strike-

[fachefaucheux]

WriteFest! // Days 2&3 + Thoughts on Moving Forward

Well...things are certainly...going.

I'm currently (well, as of yesterday) on track to finish on time, with 17,161 words written. That's a cool 116 words ahead of the minimum! And we're moving into the first weekdays of the challenge, where I expect things to get substantially more difficult, owing to me having to be, like, a functional human instead of a chaos gremlin hunched over a keyboard most of the day.

But one thing I'm hoping will keep me on track/keep me motivated to slap down another 3-4k after a day spent at the dissertation grind is that I'm now in uncharted territory. After I put down my Morning 1k (a habit I try to do no matter what, writing for 30 minutes before doing any other work/chores to ensure that I always write SOMETHING, even if the rest of the day doesn't go great), I'll be past where my first draft of Canticle ended. We're on to the final third of the book, where all the plot threads from the previous, uh, 60 chapters finally start to get tied together.

I have a basic idea of where things are headed. But the finer details -- the exact scenes, the moments of people being both big dumb idiots and tenderhearted weirdos -- are unknown. Which is a great thing! I work better in the unknown! Honestly, the last couple of of chapters of Canticle, where I've mostly been fixing style issues and condensing/reframing rather than covering new ground like I needed to do earlier in the revisions, have been a real slog because the plot's all there. The main conversations, the silly jokes, the odd observations. And writing scenes where I know exactly what's going to happen is, to me, incredibly, incredibly dull.

Popular advice is to outline thoroughly, especially for a story like Canticle that has a gorillion spinning plates. But it's just never worked for me, either in fiction or academic writing. I was the kid who wrote the essay first, then wrote the outline afterward because it was required to complete the assignment. The one who had to fumble through conferences with professors about upcoming projects with vague platitudes because what the essay's actually going to look like is still a black box to me, a week out from the due date.

That doesn't mean that I don't work on anything before then! Not at all. Before I sit down to write -- both for my day job as a historian-ish-thing and as a peddler of gay shenanigans -- I'm constantly thinking about what could happen. While doing the dishes, while on walks, when I should be paying attention to meetings. I'm reading. I'm researching. But the structure of what I want to write, the precise beats and references, never gets addressed before I sit down at the keyboard.

My best ideas come from launching into something half-blind and just seeing where it goes. Putting my weirdos all in a room with the right accessories and seeing how they decide to deal with one another. And when I'm running half-blind like this, I also tend to get on a roll more often. The words aren't so hard to come by. This process of mine does kinda end up generating a lot of editing work for Future Me to deal with afterward, but the moments of clarity, the unexpected jokes and softness, are ultimately worth it.

Anyway! Enough blathering! Time to get those words! Good luck to everyone else who's doing a writing challenge this month, and I'll see you later on in the week for another update!

[caffetato-the-caffeinated-potato]

From the fanfic game- F and G!

@idk-im-just-here-now ...there is a single braincell between the two of you I swear XD

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I wish I could write scenes in order, it'd make the revision process so much easier. But sometimes I get stuck on a specific part, or I just cannot get a future scene I'm excited about out of my head, so I jump ahead. When I go back and rewrite, however, I stick to going it in order.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hmm, well, there's a lot of very fun dialogue in Ninja-monium, but because everything I've written there is still subject to change, I'll grab something from Two by Two (under the cut cuz it's a bit long)

A thought suddenly occurred to Leo, and he frowned. “Wait. How’re we different species if we’re twins?”

Leo noticed how Donnie shifted awkwardly in his beanbag, looking away from him. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Donnie answered. “Because we aren’t twins. We can’t be, if we’re different species.”

That couldn’t be right. They were twins, Dad said so. And Dad wouldn’t lie about something like that. “But we are! We have the same birthday and everything!”

“We don’t actually know when our birthdays are. Papa just gave us the same one because he didn’t know which of us was older.” 

“Hmm.” Leo thought about that for a bit. Donnie was very smart, and always seemed to know what he was talking about, but Leo still couldn’t bring himself to believe what he was saying. Sure, Donnie was rarely wrong, but there was a first time for everything, right? 

Leo shrugged, shaking his head firmly. “Nah.”

“Nah?” Donnie furrowed his brow, giving Leo a confused look. “What do you mean ‘nah?’”

“Nah, you’re wrong.” Leo gave his twin a large, confident grin.

“We are literally different species-”

“I don’t care what the book says, we can be different species and still be twins.”

“That’s not how it works, Nardo.”

“Says who?”

“It’s basic biology -”

“Then biology’s wrong.”

Donnie just blinked at Leo, staring at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Which was honestly rude, considering Leo was clearly right about this. He may not be as smart as Donnie, but he still knew some things. And this was something he knew with his entire being, even if Donnie couldn’t see it.

This scene was one of the first I wrote for Two by Two. Trying to not only keep the twins in character but also in line with 10 year old behavior was not easy. But it was really fun, and I think it turned out really well. Especially for my first foray into fanfiction writing.

[maingh0st]

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

hi!!! from this ask game

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

editor ellen brock has this great video about types of novel writers, and I am 100% what she calls a "methodological pantser." I outline a bit first, then write, then revisit the outline and make adjustments, then tweak what I just wrote & use that momentum to write the next chunk, repeat and repeat ad nauseam. it's a very circular writing process, and it took me a long time to realize that wasn't a bad thing.

a lot of writing advice online seems oriented toward people who plan everything ahead of time and then draft it all in one linear go, so I always felt bad about myself when I tried that and would inevitably run out of momentum 30% through my project. like the nanowrimo ethic is "just charge forward; don't delete anything/revise what you've written because that'll slow you down," but every time I've finished nanowrimo, I've ended up with a pile of hot garbage because I was fighting against my own creative process! anyway, if you suspect you have a writing process like mine, give yourself space to work with it and cultivate it!! it makes writing so much more fun for me

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

comfy on my couch, sipping a gin & tonic (glass of red wine also acceptable, or a cortado on the rare occasion I have time to write during the day), power thesaurus tab open, scrivener doc fullscreen, classical lofi playing in the background :)

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

I love and am so thankful for all comments (people read my work! that's crazy!) but a few things are always extra special to me:

readers talking about their emotional resonance with the fic - someone said head on my heart left them breathless, which 😭

people pointing out specific lines that really struck them - you left a comment like this on chapter 9 of mniwyd that highlighted a line which I hadn't thought much of—it's so cool to see unexpected things really stick out to readers :)

comments on the craft!! @sheepfulsheepyard left the sweetest comment when I was in a lull complimenting my prose & characterization and it singularly motivated me to keep revising 🖤

I am so so lucky to have a handful of readers who comment regularly on mniwyd. if I haven't mentioned you here, know that I'm thinking of you & that every time I see your name in my inbox, I am kissing you on the mouth

[distant-velleity]

Daring Escape

Summary: Santiago and Yu escape Scarabia during the winter break training camp.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: none, I think

A/N: Basically, it’s Book 4 chapters 19-22 but my version. Lots of dialogue taken from the game. Alsoooo it’s been a hot second since I wrote this and I barely revised it so. Yeah :)

Tagging: @thehollowwriter since I believe you may be interested :))

-

“Man,” Santiago whines, arms behind his head, “I’m beat. And to think we still gotta go on patrol now? I was born to fly, not this!”

His roommate sighs. “It can’t be helped. Housewarden’s orders.” He fiddles with the whistle around his neck. “There’s probably gonna be another escape tonight, so keep your eyes peeled… We don’t wanna get chewed out for missing someone.”

“Uh-huh.”

Just then, Santiago’s eyes catch on the door of a normally-vacant room—the one currently home to the alchemy TA. One hand falls to the keyring around his belt almost subconsciously.

Tonight’s the perfect night to hopefully get him on board and get the hell out of here.

“Hey,” Santiago says suddenly, smiling innocently. “I just had this idea—we should probably split up for now, since our patrol extends down this entire wing of the dorm. How about you go ahead to the other side while I keep an eye out here so we can catch any escapees more quickly?”

“But if it turns into a fight, we won’t have each other to fight with. We’ll just be on our own,” points out his roommate.

Santiago scoffs. “I mean, that’s what all the magic training has been for, right? I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“But…” His roommate hesitates, then finally acquiesces with a reluctant “If you say so” before walking away.

Once he’s out of sight, Santiago smirks to himself.

That was way too easy. Santiago 1, dormmates 0.

-

Yu is lying in bed, staring vacantly up at the ceiling, when he hears it. The synchronized mental ping of a system notification and something being inserted into the keyhole of his door.

[ NEW OBJECTIVE: SANTIAGO wants to talk. Hear him out and make your choice. ]

What?

But before Yu can question it, the door is already silently hinging open and he has to quickly swipe away the notification pop-up.

Santiago slips in and quickly closes the door behind him. “Hey,” he says quietly, with a sheepish grin; for some reason, much more bearable than his usual one.

“What do you want?” asks Yu coldly, arms crossed.

“Whoa!” Santiago holds up his hands. “No need to get hostile with me. Listen, I heard about your escape attempt from the other day. I can help you actually get out of here.”

Yu stares at him in disbelief. “...Are you kidding me? Aren’t you the one who’s been sucking up to Jamil and Kalim the whole time?” A pause. “Unless this whole time you were doing it to make your life more bearable…”

“See, you get me,” whisper-exclaims Santiago, aiming finger guns at the TA. “Between that and the desire for freedom, I can already tell we’re birds of a feather.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m being serious!” Santiago insists. His arms fall back to his sides, one hand playing with the keyring attached to his belt. “If that’s not enough to convince you… well, uh… I’m a Scarabia student. I know the layout of this place way better than you do, and I have a vague plan in mind, so escaping will be a walk in the park. Plus, all the guys I room with have been strugglin’, and…” He trails off, looking more and more uncomfortable.

“So you’ve got a guilty side,” Yu says bluntly.

“Nothing like that! I just don’t wanna live like this anymore.” Santiago detaches the keyring and dangles it at Yu. “Listen, we don’t have much time, so what’ll it be? Freedom or more pain until the end of winter break?”

Yu hesitates.

On one hand, this could go super wrong… and we’ll receive an even worse punishment if we’re caught. On the other…

A certain bespectacled sophomore in Yu’s debt comes to mind. Slowly, the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a small smirk.

“On second thought, I’ll take your offer,” replies Yu, standing up and straightening his clothes. “So long as you let me choose our destination. After all, if you need help, I know just the person to go to.”

Santiago shrugs. “Sounds fair enough. Anywhere’s better than here right now, so let’s go.”

They step out into the hallway as quietly as they can, abandoned and desolate as it is at this time of night. Santiago locks the door behind him and turns to Yu.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he whispers. “We’re gonna head to one of the storerooms, and from there—”

“Santiago?”

At the end of the hallway stands someone Yu recognizes as one of Santiago’s friends, staring at them and looking thoroughly betrayed. Santiago and Yu flinch in unison.

“Are you trying to help him escape?” asks the roommate. “You kidding me?! You just said you’d keep an eye out for escape attempts!”

“Listen,” Santiago attempts, “there’s a perfectly rational explanation for thi—”

FWEEEET!

His roommate takes the whistle around his neck and blows like his life depends on it, creating an ear-piercingly high-pitched noise that has footsteps approaching in seconds.

Santiago curses under his breath. “Yu, you’d better be clear for running now, ‘cause we’re gonna need to do a lot of it. And make a whole lotta detours.”

“I’ll try my best,” Yu mutters nervously.

“Great. So let’s SCRAM!” Santiago grabs Yu and dashes in the direction opposite of his roommate and the approaching stampede.

They wind around corners and decorations, stumbling on carpets and whatnot. There’s a lot of scrambling to lose the mob. Occasionally, Santiago has to pull Yu into a duck or vice versa to avoid a stray shot of magic trying to paralyze them.

“Almost there!” Santiago whisper-shouts as they make a sharp turn into a less well-lit hallway. “They haven’t made the corner yet; let’s hide and let ‘em pass us by!”

Right after saying that, he quickly pulls Yu past the grand doors of what seems to be a storeroom. They work together to quickly push the doors shut just in time. From outside comes the roar of rapid footsteps and shouts—

“Where’d they go? Split up and find them!”

“Show yourselves, street rats!”

After a few moments of being pressed up against the door, Yu hears the footsteps fade away.

“Phew,” he breathes, slumping against the ornate doorframe. “I think they’re gone.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty much golden from here on out,” Santiago agrees, panting heavily. “Coulda been struck by magic at any point back there… I thought you’d be meeker, but thanks for having my back.”

“Yeah, well… you’re not as bad as I thought you were,” Yu admits. “Anyway, let’s focus on that once we get outta here. They could always come back. What’s the plan from this point on?”

“Right.” Santiago flicks his magic pen and a soft, auburn light emits from the magestone at its end. “We’re in Kalim’s treasury—he’s taken me here a few times, hehe. What I’m looking for should be somewhere around here—ah!” He points at the carpet hopping over to them on its tassels. “There. Our ticket out of here.”

“Is that a… flying carpet?” Yu wonders. “Kalim really is rich…”

“Which is why this dorm is one of the best,” boasts Santiago. “I get to see stuff like this almost every day.”

“Mhm. I don’t think I could cope with it, to be honest, but that’s not what we’re here for.”

“Yeah.” Santiago kneels and pats the carpet. “Hey, buddy. You must be going stir-crazy too, huh? Why don’t we get outta here together?”

The carpet hops eagerly. It adjusts so it’s flat, hovering and ready to be boarded. Yu and Santiago share a grin in the dim light.

“Let’s blow this joint,” Santiago exclaims, sitting on the carpet and extending a hand to help Yu on. The TA settles down, holding onto the edge securely. He leans over to whisper something to the carpet, and they’re zipping off within seconds.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of fleeing that keeps him from fearing this height.

“I see our pursuers down there,” Yu points out as they leave the main Scarabia building, hearing the shouts of indignant students on patrol.

“Heh.” Santiago leans over the edge of the carpet to shout, “Maybe you all oughta learn how to fly first if you wanna catch us!”

Yu huffs out a laugh before turning away and keeping his eyes trained forward. The carpet is headed straight for the entrance/exit mirror, perfectly according to his request.

“Soooo… I forgot to ask, but where are we headed?” Santiago asks, turning back around. “I saw you whisper something to the carpet just now...”

They pass through the mirror and into the Hall

Yu smiles cryptically. “I hope you’re okay with a change of scenery. I’d argue it’s the most drastic from what Scarabia has to offer.”

Santiago stares at him for a few moments, then sputters. “Wait, don’t tell me—”

The magic carpet crosses the hall and passes straight through into the Octavinelle mirror.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Santiago squawks as they zoom through the underwater hallways. “When you said to let you choose the destination, I didn’t think it’d be, y’know, Octavinelle!”

“Who else would that person who could help us be?” Yu questions him, snickering. “It’s fine. Anyway, calm down. You gotta look your best when seeking an audience at the Lounge.”

They burst through the double doors of the Mostro Lounge then. It comes as quite a surprise to the eel twins standing at the bar, both dressed to the nines in their dorm uniforms.

“Well, well, well.” Jade recovers remarkably quickly, smiling and clasping his hands together as Yu and Santiago hop off the magic carpet. “What have we here? Patrons in need of a midnight snack?”

“Aww. I was hoping I’d get to squeeze a burglar or two, but it’s just Koi and Parrotfish,” whines Floyd. “Now I can’t squeeze anyone.”

“Hello to you, too,” grumbles Yu before elbowing Santiago, who has just been staring fearfully at the twins.

“What are you doing here?” is all the bird beastman manages. “Also, where’s Chrysos?”

“You’d think he’d be in the loop by now,” Floyd mutters. “We can’t go home right now. Coral Sea’s frozen over.”

“Chrysos has been… unable to return home either, so he’s here with us,” adds Jade.

Santiago’s shoulders relax. “Oh, thank the Seven! I thought I was gonna go straight from one prison to the next, but at least there’s some kind of familiarity still here…”

I’m pretty sure Chrysos would not say the same about you were he in your shoes right now, Yu thinks.

Jade’s eyes widen with unabashed interest. “Prison? Would you care to elaborate, perhaps?”

“Also…” Floyd circles around the partner-in-crime duo to poke at the magic carpet. “What’s this rectangular flounder-lookin’ thingy?”

“Ah. Come to think of it, it looks a lot like Kalim’s magic carpet,” Jade remarks. “Could it be…”

Their conversation is rudely halted in its tracks with the sound of imminent footfalls. The doors to the Mostro Lounge burst open once more, passed through by none other than two Scarabia students.

“There’s no escape for you now, thieves!” shouts one.

“Surrender quietly!” exclaims the other, pointing his magic pen at Santiago and Yu.

“Ghk—” Yu steps back and accidentally bumps into Floyd (he somehow half-circled around him again??), who puts a hand on his shoulder to stop both of them from tripping. “They followed us all the way here?!”

“How stubborn can you get?” groans Santiago.

“Tsk, tsk.”

Everyone falls silent when polished shoes clack against the ground, an undeniable and recognizable noise. Azul himself emerges from the employee doors, adjusting his gloves with a disdainfully neutral expression. Chrysos follows not far behind him.

“What’s all the commotion at this late hour?” Azul implores.

The second Scarabia student gapes. “You’re—you’re the housewarden of Octavinelle…!”

“That, I am.” Azul glances down at them with his chin held high. “Since you have your pens drawn, would you care to explain just what’s going on here?”

“It’s none of Octavinelle’s business,” states the other Scarabia student. “Just quietly hand over those two”—he jerks his head at Santiago and Yu—“and we’ll leave as quickly as we came.”

Azul’s calculating gaze shifts to the escapees, who are looking back at him with varying levels of nervousness and determination.

Come on, Azul, Yu mentally pleads. Don’t fail me now.

The housewarden hums to himself thoughtfully.

“If you refuse to hand them over, you’ll be an accessory to their wrongdoing as well,” continues the more confident Scarabia student.

“Is that so?” Azul challenges.

Floyd huffs. “Seriously, are you small fry tryin’ to yank our tails here? Who do you even think you’re talking to?”

The Scarabia students bristle. “You—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Elegantly, with an air of refined confidence, Azul holds up a hand. “There will be no fighting in the Mostro Lounge. This is a place for gentlemen.”

His eyes flit towards the intruders.

“That being said… I believe there is plenty of room for ‘delivering.’ Jade, Floyd. Show these ill-mannered patrons the door. Chrysos, lend them a hand.”

“As you wish,” Jade replies, all too happily, at the same time that Floyd delightfully says, “On it.”

The twins advance on the two Scarabia students, pulling out their magical pens while smiling all the while. Chrysos, rolling up his sleeves, is quick to follow.

“I’ll help them out. It’ll be good stress relief,” decides Santiago, marching straight into the fray.

“In that case…” Azul adjusts his glasses and turns to Yu. “Why don’t we find a quieter spot to discuss what’s brought you here, Yu?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Yu answers dryly, gesturing Azul on with a flourish. “Lead the way.”

-

“So, there’s been Scarabian infighting recently, you say? On top of a ridiculous training regimen set by their housewarden?” When Yu nods, Azul brings a hand to his own chin in thought. “Interesting. I didn’t think Kalim had it in him…”

“Well, neither did I, and I literally see him every single day,” Santiago says. “I mean, people don’t just change that abruptly, right? There’s gotta be some kind of gradual shift first!”

Jade sets down a tray of tea for Azul. “I find myself compelled to agree. In the past year, Kalim has never once failed to be his authentic, happy self—such a drastic change is concerning.”

“S’hard to imagine Sea Otter being all tyrant-like,” Floyd agrees with a lazy smile.

“And Vice Housewarden Jamil has his hands full trying to deal with it all,” adds Yu. He shakes his head. “I can’t believe we can’t even reach out to Crowley right now, so people like him have to do this all on their own…”

“Right?!” Santiago sighs, leaning back on the couch. “Jamil’s cool and competent, I meant it when I said that, but leaving all this on him is a bit much… Especially when it’s hard to find guys like him here.”

That’s when they notice the sophomores have fallen silent and are sharing a certain, unreadable look. Yu glances over at Chrysos, who shrugs—clearly not in the loop either.

That’s odd…

“By chance, is there something we don’t know about Jamil?” Yu asks cautiously, uncertainly.

Azul frowns, propping his elbows up on his desk and lacing his fingers together. “What we know is little more than what you have just provided us. Not only am I in his class, but I share a number of electives with Jamil, so our paths cross frequently.” His eyes narrow, upper lip pressed to his tented hands in thought. “Santiago’s right, in that Jamil… well, Yu, I’m sure you’ve noticed this whenever our class has alchemy. He’s demure and poised, never ventures any opinions of his own.”

“Yeah… Yeah. You’re right. He never raises his hand or anything,” recalls Yu. “I mean, not that that’s uncommon, but it feels weird for someone competent enough to be a vice housewarden to never reveal their hand in intellect.”

Floyd nods slowly. “And he plays like a goody-goody in the Basketball Club, too. I had no clue he was Scarabia’s vice, though, ‘cause I don’t pay much attention to other dorms.”

“And now he’s struggling within his own dorm?” Azul relaxes his hands and leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. “This looks like the perfect chance for me to offer him my aid.”

“Wait, what?” Santiago leaps from his seat. “What about us? Y’know, Yu and me? Are you gonna help us?”

Chrysos kicks him in the shin, drawing out a pained yelp.

“Don’t get your feathers in a twist, jeez,” says Floyd.

“Yeah. We came here for his help, and Azul wouldn’t go back on his word,” Yu claims. He looks over at the housewarden. “Right, Azul?”

Their eyes meet for a moment, neutral yellow on deep-sea blue, and a sense of understanding passes between them.

“Of course. I’ll have you know that the last few incidents have left me a changed man,” declares Azul. “I sincerely want to help as many as I can, so does it not stand to reason that I’d also want to assist Jamil and Scarabia as a whole as well?”

“…Okay,” Santiago replies, relenting. “Fine.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now—” Azul beckons Jade and Floyd closer with a hand. “Floyd, see our Scarabian guest to his temporary room for the night. Jade, prepare some gifts for tomorrow. As for Chrysos and Yu…”

He smiles as the other three exit the VIP lounge, glasses glinting in the low light.

“Why don’t we briefly discuss what we’ll bring to the proverbial table tomorrow?”

-

“Are you seriously trusting them?” whispers Santiago as they head to the Hall of Mirrors the next morning. His eyes dart from Jade, to Floyd, to Azul, and then to Chrysos. “I mean…”

“It’s fine,” Yu assures him. “Azul owes me. Besides, don’t you want to help those guys out? This is basically our only shot.”

“Ugh…” Santiago crosses his arms. “It’s more about my own freedom, but…”

Yu just smiles at him. “Sure, that’s what it is.”

Suddenly, hands come to clamp down on both of their shoulders—Jade’s on Santiago’s and Floyd’s on Yu’s. Although it’s just for show, it really gives off the impression that they’re prisoners being herded to their executions.

“Look sharp, boys,” Azul commands, stepping in front to lead while Chrysos picks up the rear. “We have a whole dorm in need of our benevolence.”

He twirls his scepter and walks through the Scarabia mirror with long, confident strides.

“Well, Li’l Koi?” Floyd cheerfully taps his fingers against Yu’s shoulders.

“Let’s do this,” Yu says firmly with a nod, letting Floyd take and guide him through to the other side.

“I still can’t believe Santiago took Crewel’s TA and fled to Octavinelle,” mutters one of the Scarabia students from the previous night, standing in the shade of the entrance pillars.

“And they stole the magic carpet,” points out the other. “If the housewarden finds out about this…” He groans and buries his face in his hands. “What are we gonna do?”

“I think we should take it to Vice Housewarden Jamil, for starters—”

“Hello, gentlemen.” Azul, with a pleasant smile, steps in between the two students. “Mind if we pop by?”

“Sheesh, it’s hot here,” Floyd drawls, he and Jade herding Yu and Santiago in. “Feels like the middle of summer.”

“It’s a rather pleasant place to be during winter break,” Jade remarks. Chrysos nods in agreement.

“Y-You…!” The Scarabia students stammer. “You’re the Octavinelle guys who gave us a thrashing last night!”

“What do you want from Scarabia?” demands the more confident one.

“Allow me to apologize,” Azul begins, tipping his hat and adding a level of dramatic remorse to his tone. “At first glance, it appeared that you were bullying these defenseless young men. I stood up for them on the spot out of the kindness of my heart…” He side-eyes Yu. “…but upon hearing their story from the TA, it became more apparent to me that these two were thieves who had made off with Scarabia’s treasured magic carpet. Thus, I’ve decided to take personal responsibility for my mistake by apprehending the two criminals and returning your precious magical artifact to its rightful owner.”

He’s still really good at twisting situations to his advantage.

On cue, the carpet flies past Azul and loops around to hop eagerly by the Scarabia students.

“Rgh…” Santiago shifts uncomfortably until Jade’s hold, looking every bit the part of a guilty thief caught red-handed.

The first student looks to be at a loss for words. “W-Well, uh…”

“Thank you for the… help…” continues the second one awkwardly.

That’s when Jamil, crossing the long path to the entrance mirror area, shows up. “Guys, it’s about time for morning training. If you’re late, the housewarden will…” He notices the whole Octavinelle party, then, and his eyes widen considerably. “Gh—?!”

“Why, Jamil!” Azul walks forward to positively beam at the vice housewarden. “Hello, there. How have you been?”

“Azul Ashengrotto… as well as the Leech twins and Chrysos Pendentif,” Jamil notes, squinting a bit. “What are you doing here?”

Jade nods respectfully to him. “Our home is hardly hospitable during the wintertime—”

“—so we spend our holidays in the dorm!” Floyd finishes, sharing a smile with his twin.

“Wh…” Jamil tries to keep his composure, despite his obvious floundering. “What?”

Azul chuckles before tapping his scepter against the ground. “By the way, where might Kalim be? I’m here to return his magic carpet to him.”

“Er, ah… If you need to deliver something, I’ll take it,” Jamil replies, answering and dodging the question in one move.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” insists Azul. “This magic carpet is on par with national treasures. If it were discovered to be damaged later, Octavinelle would be held liable—and we can’t have that, can we? I would prefer to hand it to Kalim in person as a show of goodwill and have him assess its condition first-hand.”

“Kalim wouldn’t care even if it was damaged,” mutters Jamil under his breath, before trying his best to put on a casual smile. “Let me take it off your hands, okay?”

“Worry not!” Azul places a hand over his heart, looking as sincere as he possibly could. “I won’t even ask for my standard twenty-percent finder’s fee.”

“Please,” adds Jade. “Consider it our way of apologizing for our uncouth treatment towards Scarabia last night.”

Floyd continues to add insult to injury—“We even brought seafood pizza as a present. It’d be such a shame if it went cold, right?”

“And the more there to help watch the escapees the better,” argues Chrysos as well.

“The point is,” Azul says, “I would much prefer to deliver it in person. Kalim’s awake by now, I trust?”

Jamil shakes his head furiously. “No, really, he’s not up for any—”

Azul walks right by him and descends the steps to Scarabia’s long, carpeted walkway.

“—hey! You can’t just barge in, Azul!”

As Jamil chases after the Octavinelle housewarden, the eel twins turn to their quarry.

“Shall we?” Jade ventures, ever-polite.

“You’d better keep up,” sing-songs Floyd.

Yu nods with forced confidence. “I’ll do my best.”

As they’re herded to follow Jamil and Azul in, Santiago mumbles, “These Octavinelle guys are so pushy when they wanna be…”

“It’s nice to not be on the receiving end of it, for once,” Yu admits.

Santiago nods reluctantly, clearly not entirely in agreement but not having the time to argue either.

After all, the doors of Scarabia and the execution of their plan await them.

[rescue-ram]

💕, 🥳, 💡, 🔮

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Of the fics I consider Finished, I'm shouting out Making the Most of It. REALLY happy with how that came out :)

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I think I was in 3rd grade, maybe 2nd- I typed "Digimon Stories" into Google and was delighted to find stories about my favorite show. I was so little I didn't totally understand how to navigate websites, and thought you just got 20 random stories every day, so you can imagine my :D when I discovered the "next" button and how to use the search feature lol. I don't remember my first fic exactly, but I wrote it after the movie came out and it was some insane Digimon crack fic lol.

I just really wanted to make up my own stories about my favorite stories, and I've always had an affection for plucky guys I felt got done wrong by fandom and wanted to do better to make people understand why I loved them so much- I wrote fanfic about Davis from Digimon and Boromir from LOTR. The only fic I left up on FFnet was an HP fic that I might port over to AO3 and revise, and maybe finish or at least add authors notes of my outline, because I do mostly like what I had, but for Obvious Reasons have not been super motivated to write for that fandom in recent years lol.

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

Oooh okay, a lot of things in the hopper, let me categorize:

Actively Working On

Truly unhinged Hawnk fic for kinktober kfkfkfk

The Courage To Be

Star Wars fic 'Resolute'

Actively Pondering/Nibbling On

CharHawk Fake Dating

HouliHawk role play fail

Two age play fics that are similar in tone, one CharHawk and one Hawkahy- not sure if either will get finished, but don't think I'll write both, so pondering options

Hawkeye "turns into a cat" gen fic

Hawkeye Goes To California and BJ Goes To Maine at the same time without telling the other and swap lives for about two weeks.

Two post-war fics, one that is a sequel to Making the Most of It and one that's more focused on Daniel and Hawkeye's relationship, although BJ and Trapper are both there. Pretty distinct, but with enough overlap I need to pick one to prioritize to make sure I don't write too similar of scenes between them.

Soft Hibernation

The next part of my Rescue Bots fic- I know what the next bit will be, touched the doc last month, but not actively working on it

Under the Banner of Heaven case fic/undercover in a gay bar fic. Haven't worked on this in a few months, but I still really like the idea

Hibernation

X-Men Band AU. Been over a year since I worked on it, although I have a pretty good outline for a lot of what needs writing

1920s X Men AU. Soft abandoned, I remember some of my ideas for this but don't think I'll write it.

Succession KenStewy fic. I have some scenes and an outline, but it's hard to get in these assholes (affectionate) POV...

Captain America Clone Fic I haven't touched in almost a decade now god help me. Functionally abandoned but I still think on it occasionally kgkdjdkd.

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

Keep pondering, keep nibbling, and don't be afraid to shelve an idea and come back to it later. Fanfic is supposed to be for fun after all lfkdjjd

I have found it helpful to make the world's worst outline to act as a kind of checklist document and help connect scenes of I get stuck at one point and need to skip ahead a little.

I also like to try and focus on an emotional vibe to carry the fic, which helps get in the characters head so I can get in that trance state where the little guys are Doing Things and I just have to write it down kfjdjf. Sometimes I have an idea I like but it takes some pondering to find an emotional angle to connect with the character that makes sense as to why they are Doing The Plot, so nailing that angle before I commit to writing helps...

If I start getting bogged down in research I do the "five link" rule, where I only let myself read five things about the topic, try and cobble together enough of an explanation to pass a sniff test, then move on kgkrkrkdj

Also with skipping, the Sticking Point comes when I get too far ahead and then lose motivation for the part I was writing. Trying desperately to avoid this with my two multi-parters rn jdkdjd. Only letting myself write one or two scenes ahead helps a little...

[ladytauria]

hey liv sorry in advance i am nosy

🍓🐇🧃🪐🍬🦷🦋🦴🪲

dont be sorry! i enjoy nosy uwu

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

hmm

i was 12. my favorite tv show at the time was this old disney cartoon, "super robot monkey team hyper force go" (abbreviated as SRMTHFG or SRMTHG. i prefer the first but plenty of people use the second.) it was canceled after its 4th season and, uh. the ending was SO bad. like, major major cliffhanger.

anyway, i was looking up... i don't even remember at the time. and i discovered deviantart, and i discovered this person's OCs. read a lot about them, including some fanfic, and then eventually discovered fanfiction.net

i didn't realize what it was at first; i thought it was just a writing in general site? and i was like oh! i can share the book i'm working on! (i have been trying to write a novel since i was 10). and then as i was looking into where i would post it, i realized what it actually was. (no, the title didn't give it away. idk why.)

so then i was like oh!!! this is really cool actually!!! and i wrote my first fanfic xD

that was in 2011? so i was 12, almost 13.

and i've been reading & writing fic ever since~

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

okay so this is a tough question

bc like

i love love love love love second person.

like.

*adore* it.

second person, present tense is my absolute fave, but past tense is good too. (i have written an entire sapphic little mermaid retelling [12k words i think] in second person. uh, it needs revisions but it's a full draft. i opened it it the other day and im still so proud of it uwu)

howEVER. outside of writing second person w/o ever explicitly naming the pov character i have not actually written a reader-insert? so for that reason alone i will have to say 'prefer writing oc's'

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

uhh

hm

i'm a chronic oversharer (mostly in the tags) so that's kind of tough!

ah! since my grandmother's memory issues started, i've been doing about half of the cooking (it's been a bit of a battle, as she keeps trying to do everything xD) and i've cooked a lot of new things this year!! i've gotten very good at cooking pork chops. which 🤔 now that i bring that up, i might make friday! or tonight, but they're still in the freezer, so...

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

my grandmother's memory situation has improved a lot!! it's still not great, but like. strides ahead of where we were 7-8 months ago!

my anxiety has been much kinder to me this year <3 i've made some very lovely friends this year~

mmm, oH, my energy levels have been fantastic this year. i didn't realize just how bad they had gotten until i started these new meds, and now i'm just. <333 much better.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

hm

idk if i have any unpopular opinions...? i mean. i'm sure i must, but... nothing immediately comes to mind ^^;

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

hmmm

recently been trying to get in the habit of summarizing what i want to do before i start writing. it makes the process much easier, if ik a bit about what i want to do before going in?

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

i am much better at being patient than i ever gave myself credit for in the past <3

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

i can't think of one piece in particular, as the places i find inspiration are. all over the board?

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

picked a wip from my open tabs at random! funnily enough this is also the one i ended up doing for the emoji ask xD

it's also almost triple what this asked for but once i started writing i couldn't stop <3

He swallows, staring up at Tim. Jason has had plenty of practice reading people through a domino, but. He has no reference for the look Tim is giving him now. Only that it— That the feeling it gives him is… is new and strange. He has no name for it, the way his stomach feels fluttery and tight, his scalp and fingers tingling. His mouth opens—but all that escapes is a stuttery puff of air. That’s okay. He doesn’t know what he was going to say anyway. Tim hooks a gloved finger under his chin; tipping his face up. He leans in, slowly—so slow that Jason— There’s nothing keeping him there. He could run. Turn away. But he feels caught, feet anchored in place. Tim’s mouth touches his, and all thought leaves him. Jason has never been kissed before.

[ writers truth or dare ask game ]

[wywysighs]

Written in the Stars.

(Here I go trying to post my writing again. I revised this piece I wrote a few years ago.)

He was out later than he planned. Most don’t spend hours at a bookstore. He wore a black tee shirt and blue jeans, with a checkered flannel hanging loosely open as he walk. The cafe he settled in had since closed and chased the only two patrons out of the area.

He had made small glances at this girl who looks to be his age for the past hour or so. She’s roughly five-foot-one with dark hair that drops to her shoulders. She had these deep, mysterious eyes that kept his attention locker. She’s dressed in a black long sleeve that’s exposing her shoulder somewhat. It’s covered by a dark thin jacket. Her jeans tight in the right places.

“You know, you could say hello.”

He snapped out of his thoughts as he walked and noticed that she’s beside him now as they both reach the door. His face flushed a faint pink as he opened the door for her. “After you.” She grind as she walked past him and then stopped abruptly as he followed “Hello.” She greeted.

“Hello.” He plainly spoke and she giggled.

“Gee, how long is it going to take you to ask me name then?” She teased.

His mind whirled as this beautiful girl spoke to him. Not once in his life had he been confident enough to approach someone like this. It never happens. The most might be admiration from afar toward the occasional girl and wondering about saying something, anything. This was surprising. “I’m Lee. What’s your name?”

“Randi.” She briefly stated. Then started to walk with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, gesturing for him to follow. They’re certainly heading away from the parking lot. He decide following a pretty girl might be worth some risk.

“Did you buy a book or anything?” He asked to fill the silence. He noticed she wasn’t carrying anything. She shrugged as they walked beside each other. “I couldn’t find a story I liked, so I chose to make one instead.”

If possible his face turned another shade of pink. She sounded so bold and sure of herself. He clearly was not. “What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips and reached for his hand to lead them into an abrupt left turn. He looked ahead and saw a pier within view. The lighthouse at the end shining brightly. She lead him with purpose as they walk in silence to the edge. The waves crashing gently.

She lets go of his hand and looks up to him. She was much closer than he would have expected. “What’s your sign?”

He paused for a moment, curious on what she’s thinking. “I’m a Virgo.”

She nodded briefly and looked up to the stars as if she knew what they said up in the dark night. “I’m a Pisces. Which, is your perfect match. At least I’d say so. I’ve always felt something toward Virgo men.”

She looked at him again and then to the lighthouse as she took his hand and led them against the lighthouse wall that over looked the body of water. “I was born on February, the 19th.” She mused and gazed at the waves. Even though she was beside him, he could tell her mind was up in the states.

“September 3rd for me.” He shared and that got her attention again.

“So, tell me more. Where you were born. What year. What time.” She encouraged. He found himself willing to share anything with her in this moment. As if she erased his boundaries. He shared his story with her about his life and she seemed like she was lost in thought. Almost as if she’s a computer processing.

“It’s funny, how you randomly find someone there’s this connect you can’t describe. But you feel it so strongly. Maybe the stars aligned for us.”

He found himself lost in thought not as he looked to the softly crashing waves. He didn’t expect to be sitting beside a stranger. Most nights he would be at home and spending him time by himself. Going to sleep early. And now he let this girl lead him over to a spot he had been a million times before. Yet it felt so different. Then she spoke once again.

“I’d argue you’re one to be hard on yourself. That you need to be more confident. You seem so smart. Just reserved. And you need to not be so down about what you haven’t accomplished. You have so much time.”

It was as if she read his mind. Read him like a book. It was uncanny how she pulled those thoughts right from inside him.

“I know I’m right. You’re good looking, you just have to believe it for yourself.” She added with a smile as she looked to him.

“I’m sure I can work on that.” He spoke softly. He didn’t expect these words from this strange girl.

“Oh boy. There you go thinking.” She teased and playfully pushed against him as she laughed. “Loosen up. You’re out with a pretty girl and looking at the stars and waves. This must be the best night of your life.”

He rolled his eyes and felt his body soften. His jaw loosen. For a moment he felt relaxed. Even if he still felt flustered. In this moment he felt brave and then put his arm around her. To which she moved into his body and rested her head on his should as she looked up at him. Like she had looked up at the stars.

Maybe the stars had aligned tonight.