#notifs are pointless tbh

[iridescentis]

i love that when a post gets a bunch of notes overnight its a complete jumpscare no notif no warning nothing and yet tumblr will send me a notif saying i have 28 new notes and i open the app and there's fuck all maybe 2 bestie are you drunk

[okurrroye]

For the love of god will someone recognize my brilliance and follow me

[sstormyskyess]

omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth. 

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[star-on-a-beach]

Hi, important thing that I'm just saying now.

Unless you ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT and don't just want my attention, please don't constantly DM me. Every so often is okay, but I honestly get really kinda annoyed if I'm constantly DMed things that have no real meaning or I can't really respond to them.

I am not a silly person. I don't usually reciprocate silliness. I don't know how to respond to random things usually, and I get annoyed doing so because I don't understand, I don't like being silly in random senses- and tbh I don't really like being actually silly all that much at all, except for rare cases.

Is it ok to dm me something random every so often? Yeah, go ahead. I don't mind if it's not constant.

But I really, really, really don't like being DMed random things that I can't respond to constantly, multiple times a day, and DMing me after I very clearly do not respond because I'm busy or don't have the mental capacity for it. Whatever the reason, and whether you want me to respond or not (why would you be DMing me if you didnt want me to respond, i dont know), it's not fun for me to be receiving those notifs all the time.

Once again. OCCASIONAL is fine. And by occasional, I mean every few days. Not every day.

I've tried to be kind about this, but it's gotten to the point I'm flat out not liking DMing anyone anymore because I'm rarely having a gen conversation where the other person is just goofing off when I'm trying to not be. Please. I'm not having fun with it, I'm just getting annoyed. If this keeps up, I'm gonna just flat out ignore any constant random messages.

I'm not saying this is targeted. But I am saying this is a boundary that I now have because I'd rather talk to people when I'm not completely irritated by pointless DMs.

And I'm also gonna say that there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing this if it's your style, it's a me problem, not a you problem. But I am very much not the person you should be DMing with your randomness, I thoroughly dislike it.

And one more thing, you do not have to send me a ton of reminders or send me the same post over and over. I've seen it. I get it. My memory is shit but it's not THAT shit, I struggle to see the point to being sent the same thing or reminder over and over, even if it's just in a comical way.

I'm sorry if I'm acting like a downer. But I'm sick of passive-aggressively trying to tell someone I'm not in the mood for DMs when I have absolutely have no response for the things they send me, then feeling guilty when I consciously ignore them.

If you have any questions (which, I imagine there will be some) then DM me BUT ACTUALLY DM and ask and not just something random

Thank you for reading, I apologize if this came off as hostile, I'm exhausted and annoyed and this is long overdue.

Edit:

I forgot to add, I'm normally not gonna respond to DMs from midnight to 12 PM EST unless they're important or I make an exception. Preferably, if it's not important, please just wait for the morning and let me have my peace. Please.

[aphel1on]

i gotta change my icon to fuckin. xue yang or smth so ppl stop going "nice icon op" "icon checks out" etc etc on my "characters who became villains out of empathy" post.....

STOPPP that was not about him!!! his problem is not empathy. his problem is grief and devotion and attachment and unhealthy selflessness but it's NOT empathy. tbh i think he had low empathy even before he spent centuries losing his mind and getting nibbled on in the dungeon. he doesn't understand others well and others don't understand him well and he was already a little hater back to his jester days (Citation: That one extra where freinag lightly scolds him for offending people in court and having no sense of humor.) Yes he was much more soft and sweet and gentle back then but the lions' share of it (hahahahahhahh.heh) was still reserved for the melinis and the melinis only. Yes he defended the whole kingdom and all its people but that was SPECIFICALLY FOR DELGAL... to please delgal... bc delgal asked him to.......

also the ppl who keep tagging anakin skywalker oh my god i swear im going to have to turn notifs off. ANAKIN?? EMPATHY????? i will preface that by saying i love that little bitch but empathy is the furthest fucking thing from being his problem. actually, much like thistle it's grief and devotion and overattachment that leads to his fall.

like idk maybe this is just another tumblr reading comprehension problem. empathy =/= caring about people. you can care abt people soooooo much while still not taking on their emotions as your own, not feeling what they feel, and in general catastrophically failing to understand them. you can take incredibly selfish actions out of love and the fear of losing others. and this is another kind of villain arc and it's incredibly delicious also but NO it has nothing to do with empathy.

actually i think specifically being in online autism circles where we discuss the definition of empathy and the difference between empathy and compassion and talk about having low empathy and how it doesn't make you a bad person - predisposes me to be more annoyed than is really reasonable to slightly incorrect interpretations of that post lol. like not everyone has all that context to me Specifically Deploying The Word Empathy.

basically i know it's not that serious which is why i'm doing this whining under a readmore and not on the post or anything. really i should just turn notifs off on it bc honestly once it's escaped containment ppl can interpret it however they want and i know its not my job or right to police it.......

however so far the equal and opposing serotonin i get from ppl going "getou-- OMG IT WAS LITERALLY ABOUT GETOU" has prevented me from turning them off. yes. suguwu<3

("why don't you just make him your icon then" OK WELL........ that's a whole other post of pointless tangled brain threads. i love him but for esoteric reasons i dont.wanna)

[feline-insolitum]

this younger guy (i almost want to consider them a kid tbh.) that commissioned me against my will keeps fucking spamming my discord notifs. except theyre not spamming about the comms (thank god since i havent started since schools been kicking my ASS, ill start in a week when i have more breathing room) theyre spamming with random. things. like a thirst trap of a spoon??? random memes????? fucking communist theory???????? it is irritating me.

i have 5 unread dms from them at the current moment and im scared to open them. they will also just spam me with dms the moment i get online too. like i mean spamming its unrelenting. like it genuinely feels like harassment. i know they mean well but oh my god i would rather this be about commissions then trying to force me into communist theory by giving me ""more accessible"" theory because i said part (PART!!!! NOT ALL!!!!!) of the reason was because the vocab and stuff is too hard for me to read. (spoiler alert: the "accessible" theory they sent wasnt even that much better than the 1800s speak shit most communists read)

i dont even want to read theory and im not even a communist but theyre trying to convert me i guess and god thats so uncomfortable. if youre gonna convert me then actually communicate with me like a person instead of sending me a huge long story in a small font in a narrow column of text with a bunch of pointless meaningless flowy poetic words that do NOTHING to convey the message and just trip me up that i struggle to read and comprehend at the same time because YOU ON A PERSONAL LEVEL think its easier for me to read than like marx.

[kenni-woodard]

Cw: depression, mj, sui ideation, religion

I started the day off with a notification related to MJ and it just triggered me all over again. I'm so tired of struggling with this. It really makes me feel at risk for hurting myself. Because if he is the monster everyone seems to think he is, my entire life feels like a pointless lie. And I don't deserve to be here. Nor do I really want to, tbh. I'm a total coward so I probably couldn't act on it, but the impulse gets really strong honestly. There's so much confusion about this whole thing that it just hurts sometimes and I can't keep dealing with it. He's the literal light of my life. And if that turns out to be a lie, I don't know what i will do.

Edit: I'm trying to be kind to myself now. It has been some time since I wrote the below. If he was in fact a monster, I'm not the only one he fooled. I have also not spent my adult life enabling a monster to continue to harm people. So I don't have to feel like I, too, am a monster for believing him. For loving him regardless. I love him so, so deeply.

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

Having a really hard time today. It's probably related to the fact that I paused one of my supplements because the pill is too big and it was making me sick.

And some part floating around in my head is religious and feels like I'm in turmoil like this because another human shouldn't be the light of my life. God should be. God is punishing me / letting me suffer because I need to learn that there's no one before him. But I'm kind of tired of having to suffer to learn things. Religion is honestly why I'm so broken in the first place. And I'm tired of hurting. And tired of feeling like a freak. I'm so, so tired.

[ethereal-mists]

💀I have CPTSD and have had it for a very long time. I've had years of therapy, and had to learn about it in order to understand why I feel things the way I do, and work around that. That's how I know about it. I have a very severe case of it and it has impacted my life heavily, so I have to know these things.

Also... I'm not trying to 'diagnose' (if you can even diagnose a fictional character). If anything, I'm pointing out symptoms. You misunderstood the post and keep jumping to assumptions. Just like you misunderstood how those symptoms of CPTSD work when you tried to talk about it (For example, implying that people with CPTSD can't form relationships - which is pretty insensitive tbh but I figure that comes from not understanding rather than anything rude). I mean, it's sweet that you care so much about it. I mean that genuinely. But as someone who has intimate experience with how those symptoms actually present... I'm telling you, it's a little different than how you're picturing it. (There are some really good sites that talk about the way some of the symptoms present socially if you're interested)

You may have included a source but it really seems like you don't grasp exactly what those things mean. It's one thing to read something, but understanding it is another. I don't care about 'debunking' what you're saying, especially when you're getting weirdly aggressive over this. I'm not trying to attack you. I don't want to make you angry. You clearly care a lot about mental health and awareness, and that's something I respect deeply, but I'm not gonna try and debate with someone that's just trying to look for a fight.

"please use basic reading comprehension instead of purposefully officiating the point." This was basically my point from the start. The OG post isn't what you were making it out to be. I got off topic and sucked into a pointless argument.

I'm sorry if this whole thing upset you. That really wasn't my intention. I don't want to fight. I don't want to keep spamming that BG3 account's notifications with drama. If you want to talk or debate or share resources, you can DM me if you like. This kind of topic is pretty interesting to me and it's nice to see someone else that's passionate about CPTSD awareness

Thinking about Astarion and trauma again (shocking)

He really is the first character I've seen that depicts PTSD/C-PTSD the way he does. He's angry. He's collecting the pieces of himself he had to chip away over the years and figuring out how to fit them back together again, and it's hard.

I rarely see good PTSD rep in media (and C-PTSD is even less depicted/understood). And when I do, it's always the soft pitiable side of it. The side of it that's more palatable and easy to accept. But the reality is that the trauma that stems from such abuse can be vicious, and messy. It can lash out and push people away. Bring out the worst in you, at times. It can be so, so angry.

I love that we see that in Astarion. Both because it's good representation, and because I'm a survivor too. I'm angry. I'm upset. I want to kick and scream about it, but I can't. I feel like I must always remain in control, or that displaying those feelings will only hurt those around me and push them away. I don't want that. I don't want to hurt others or be alone.

Seeing Astarion do those things, being angry and messy over it all... It makes me so happy. He says things to Cazador I wish I could say to my own abusers, with no regard to how others perceive it. He doesn't hold back. And I get to see a character with a very similar kind of trauma do/say the things I only dream about, and not be abandoned for it. He's given the chance to heal and grow as a person, and feel loved. He gets to have a happy ending.

And he gets to be mad. And that's ok.

[taegularities]

to this anon

if we’re being honest here reblogs don’t happen as often as they should regardless of the quality of the work. one thing you can do is put a little reminder at the end of the fic for readers to reblog and send asks if they liked the fic but even that doesn’t really do much tbh. i get where you’re coming from since i’ve been there too and it really sucks :/

even if you have 1k or more followers, sometimes you’ll get like an average of 100-300 notes and most are just likes which does absolutely nothing at all. there are cases when you might post a fic that blows up but those aren’t consistent.

as for what you said in response to the anon rid, i completely understand you. also with taglists… those are a whole different story. you’ll get the few of however many you have who consistently reblog or send asks but it’s not really a lot. one thing you could do is make it a point to emphasize that if they want to be on the taglist and stay on it then feedback should be given. usually, people just want to be on the taglist just for the sake of a notification but they don’t want to provide feedback after reading (or they just leave a like). if the people on the taglist don’t offer feedback then it’s kind of pointless because you can spend on your time on other things instead of including the taglist.

the best way that readers can help boost fics is by reblog and in that reblog include comments and tags. you can comment through a reblog and you can also include tags or you can comment through tags if you’d rather do that.

now, if you don’t want to reblog for whatever reason at least send an ask. 99.999% of writers love asks whether it’s something as simple as just “I loved x fic. thank you for writing it.” if you don’t want to send an ask through your blog there’s a reason anon mode has been turned on.

sorry this got kind of long but writers on this platform really don’t get the recognition they deserve which is why many stop or leave. i remember i went on a long hiatus when i wrote for a different fandom and when i came back all i got were asks toward a series update but then such people who send asks don’t even interact with the post in a way that helps smh.

this. this is so on point. i put a reminder at the bottom of each of my fics, and i actually said quite a while ago that i start removing those from my taglist who haven't interacted with at least 3 of my latest fics. i totally get when readers get busy! but especially when one asks to be added for a new fic and then doesn't even interact with it, it's a little discouraging to me.

you're very right, the best way to help authors is to reblog. with or without comment. OR send an ask, on anon or not. we really do appreciate the tiniest things, right? writing a fic takes days and weeks and months. i know so many authors who stay awake to write cos their readers wait for updates... only for the fic to go unnoticed. i've seen so many writers leave bcos of that, and then a lot of readers get sad about it, but they still refuse to support authors and it's just :((( sad y'all :((( ccs are just also sick of asking....

i'm also so sorry you experienced that. i truly hope it gets better, love <3

[practicalmagicintuitions]

I mean it's a given she's going to be at the red carpet...I don't understand why people are freaking out about this? She's his girlfriend, she's going and that's all. He wants to block crazy people, he has the right to. If I were him I would not allow tags and give my account to be managed by other people.

I don’t know how I feel about him blocking them. I mean it’s 100% his right and I would do the same (however I am absolutely not a celebrity) but I feel it’s a little but pointless. That means they are monitoring those accounts closely, with blocking give them validation and tbh probably they will make more accounts and harassing them even further. I am not a big IG user, so I have no idea what are the options. But even though I was very anti blocking here in the beginning because I felt I have to adress everything, I have become a very pro blocking even I rarely do this. I cannot imagine what their IG notifications look like. So actually I agree with him however I think this is not the way.

[wr0temyway0ut]

7 17 20 22 24 28 37 for the 40 Questions Meme for Fic Writers!

Hey have i mentioned lately that i freaking love and miss you

This post got very long so answers below the cut! 

(40 Questions Meme for Fic Writers)

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Tbh I’m proud of most of my work but recently I’m especially proud of this bit from Tiny Symphonies (warnings for implications of disordered eating and depression, mentions of blood and stitches): 

Bobby wants to tell Luke that he knows exactly how he feels, that he’s been in his shoes before. That he knows how pointless it feels to take care of yourself when the people who were supposed to do that for you—who were supposed to love you unconditionally— just don’t anymore. That he’s not alone; that Bobby stopped eating and sleeping and showering too, obsessing over what he could have done better, what would have made him more worthy of love. But he’s never told anyone that, not even Alex, and no one’s ever asked. Bringing it up now would make this about him, and it’s not about him, it’s about Luke. There’s no point in treating a faded scar when there’s an open gash that still needs stitches.

Just because I’m a screenwriter by trade, so most of my writing is action and dialogue, and I was sort of worried that I’d lost my touch for internal monologue or really anything that can’t be seen or heard on screen, but I think I did really well with this introspective take on Bobby, if I do say so myself.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish or do you write the scenes out of order?

Start to finish! Mostly bc with fanfic I generally don’t outline or plan ahead so I’m just seeing where the writing takes me, but even with my academic/professional work I find it hard to skip around between scenes.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

For fanfic: on my phone in bed at midnight. For everything else, on my back porch on with my cat in my lap.

22. Choose a passage from one of your older fics and edit it into your current style.

Aha okay here’s a rewritten bit from my single Good Omens fic Lift Home? I wrote in 2019 (I refuse to go any older than that)

They sit in silence for a good deal of the ride, Aziraphale clutching his books as if doing so can control Crowley’s reckless careening through the city.

As they near the bookshop, Crowley slows down ever so slightly, not that the change would be perceptible to any being without their heightened senses. Still, Aziraphale relaxes the tiniest bit, and deems it safe to break the silence.

“That really was very kind of you.”

“I said don’t mention it.”

“Well, I won’t bring it up again, but I do want you to know…” He places a gentle hand over Crowley’s on the steering wheel. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

A spike of panic shoots through Crowley’s chest. Without thinking, he wrenches the steering wheel to the right, pulling his hand away from the angel’s and sending the Bentley crashing around the corner. He slams on the brakes in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, just barely missing a fire hydrant.

With as much indifference as he can muster, Crowley drawls, “Here you are.”

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I don’t think I have, thought lately I’ve been seriously considering orphaning my old Hamilton fics. The only reason I haven’t done it yet is because the rare email notification that someone has commented on them makes me happy.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

 @martialwriter do you count? Is this for specifically fanfic? Idk if you write fanfic but I will say it was a freaking honor to read your early drafts of the Guardians and make films with you bc you’re such a great writer. Also @a-tomb-with-a-view was sort of the first jatp writer I read when I was getting into the fandom and they continue to write astonishing pieces. I owe my entire good dad!Caleb au to @siriuslyrose and her absolutely delightful fic Are You For Me or Against Me. And @satisfictiion my old buddy from the hamilton days who is now writing a jatp percy jackson au that’s so fun and intriguing and has me on the edge of my seat. I know it said only three but also @kybee1497 and @on-irratia deserve appreciation to

37. Talk About Your Current WIPs

Ooooh boy there’s so many. So I’ve got Heart of a Dancer and The Parent Trap which are already published and in progress (i’m working on the next chapter of Heart of a Dancer rn). Honestly I have so many WIPs rn it’s just easier to post screenshots of my list

The ones I’ve actually started are the Vagabond, Finally Free, and Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me, but I’m very excited to get to the other ones. (edit: I just realized Unconditional Love has no explanation lmao, it's about Alex finding out his parents have changed and being pissed about it, framed by the song "Unconditional Love" by Against Me!)

As a bonus, here’s all the titles I went through for Tiny Symphonies before I settled on one:

[max--phillips]

We love when a PSA I put out about unfollowing me if you support T*ump and his cult gets reblogged by the Nazis bitching (they don't even follow me). Like I'm sorry you're crazy?? But I'm not responding to your reblogs but thanks for outting yourselves? I just blocked them and muted the post notifications.

UGH I’m so sorry people Suck Ass

But hey there is the outing themselves thing, at least you know who to avoid ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tbh it’s kind of pointless to argue w ppl like that anyway bc they’re not gonna change their minds and they’re just gonna try to make you mad. If you gotta argue, it’s best to do it in person with a weapon. Remember kids: the only good fascist is a dead fascist!

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 14

a/n: i told you I wasn’t good at angst. 2-3 more chapters and then we out this bitch tbh. Hope you’re enjoying the final words. If there were ever a time to tell me you fuck with the fic this would probably be it tbh. I’m almost done. K bye. Also if you wouldn’t mind supporting at ko-fi that would be really dope. The kid is broke and has to go to grad school somehow. 

*Shawn’s point of view*

He can’t sleep without her. Can’t eat or make music or workout. It all hurts. It hurts more than he could ever possibly imagine. And he couldn’t get the sound of her voice breaking when she told him it was over out of his head. She loved him. And he loved her. But it wasn’t enough. Losing her is like losing everything that ever mattered to him. It situates her differently in his mind. He thought that she was everything to him, but it wasn’t until he had to go without her that he actually knew what it meant and what it felt like. It was like she controlled his heart beat, his lungs, even his mind. Without her there to keep him going, it all feels pointless. And so he cries a lot more than he had in years, and he reminds himself that she had been the one to tell him to get over himself and get in touch with his emotions. She had showed him it wasn’t bad to feel, and yet she never could have prepared him for this.

He tortures himself with it too. He replays the words, remembers the exact cadence of her voice so soft and muted and full of hurt. It’s over. It doesn’t matter. Goodbye. He never in a million years could have seen this one coming. All that’s left is for it to kill him slowly by the hour, when he reflects on what it means to lose her. To be without her was like not existing at all, but with a shit ton more pain.

He’s lying in bed on another guilt trip when his bedroom door opens. It’s Tiffany this time instead of his dad. It’s probably for the best. Given his current state, he surely would have lunged.

“Shawn,” She hummed softly. “It’s time to get out of bed.”

He cuddled her pillow a little closer to his chest and found that it didn’t smell like her anymore. And he had this moment where he wondered if this was the beginning of the end. Would he start to lose the parts of her that meant the most to him, that had become so salient? Would it be like she was never here at all? His chest tightened considerably and his eyes watered.

“No.” He mumbled.

“Look I--I’m not quite sure what’s going on here, or why your father has suddenly had a change in heart but...I’m here to take you to your contract signing, Shawn. This is literally everything that you’ve dreamed up for your entire life. Everything changes today, if you just get out of bed.”

The only thing he can think of is the last night he stayed over at her place. He played her a song he wrote about her. He kept messing it up because he didn’t wanna look away from her, but his fingers hadn’t quite memorized the chords yet. Everytime he messed up, he would just smile at her and eventually she asked him what he was doing. He told her:

I can’t help but look at you when we’re in a room together. I wanna always be looking at you, honey.

“I’m not signing, Tiff.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Tell dad I’m not signing and on top of that I quit.”

“Shawn. Now look I understand you’re upset but you need to be very strategic about what your next move is, here! You know what your father is capable of.”

His eyes drifted over to his nightstand where the watch that she bought him for christmas still sat. He’d never been clearer about anything in his whole life.

“Look I’m sorry he made you drive all the way over here, but my stance is final. Fuck his money, fuck his power, and fuck him. I want out.” He whispered tears threatening to choke him again.

He closes his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He can’t take it anymore.

“He’s already taken everything that matters. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He rolled over away from her, glaring angrily at the wall until the sound of his apartment door closing rang in his ears. He goes back to counting the minutes without her. It isn’t enough to keep him preoccupied from the longing.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

It doesn’t feel the same. None of it. Your sheets are too rough. The shower is too cold. The eggs you make in the morning don’t taste the same. It’s lonely. Like devastatingly lonely. His curls don’t tickle your neck with morning kisses. You can’t hear him play guitar on the couch while you shower. His cologne doesn’t dominate your bedroom. It’s like he’s not there, and it’s like maybe he never was.

It is...so incredibly painful at first. You can’t even breathe without sobbing. But the worst part is that even when the tears dry, he’s still not there. And all you’re left with is a world that feels a little duller. Perhaps that’s the worst part. It’s not a catastrophe. No one’s died. No one’s in harm’s way. So the world keeps turning and everyone keeps living while inside you’re breaking down. Despite your world being absolutely rocked in every sense of the word, everyone else continued on as if nothing had ever happened.

You’ve got nothing that matters before you anymore. It’s not until you wake up one morning and you skip a flight to meet with Normani in Brazil that you realize the most painful thing of all. He had meant more to you than anything else, even your career, even the power, and the work. The day you’d rather lie at home missing him than working, is the day that you know you lost the most important thing in your whole entire world. And worse than that, you’d had the audacity to give him up for free. To a white man nonetheless. Your ancestors were surely singing negro spirituals from the skies.

The worst part is the waiting, because you weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for. Would they start with a single? Or perhaps a photoshoot? An interview on one of the Jimmys. You knew what you would’ve done, but Manny had a completely different style when it came to management and roll out. If Shawn was signed, he was going to take the media by storm without a doubt. The girls would certainly love him. Hell so would the gays and the non-binary folks too. He was so cute and fluffy. Your cute and fluffy! But not anymore. Somehow you had walked into your office ready to fight the whole world if it meant the two of you got to stay together. Not so much.

The fact that Tiana manages to get into your apartment must mean things are bad. She had a key to your apartment the way an assistant that makes your life run should. However you had an unspoken rule between the two of you that she shouldn’t enter your space without you knowing. Everyone knew how important your space was to you, how much being home needed to exist outside of work. For her to enter unannounced probably meant she thought you were dead. If only it were that simple.

The door slid open interrupting the mood of playing a playlist that Shawn had made for you back in a time where there hadn’t been a world of space between the two of you.

“Oh sis…” Tiana whimpered. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You rolled your eyes into your pillow. “Well get a good look. It’s probably my permanent state.”

“Is this...is this a playlist he made you? Baby that is some middle school shit. We have to snap you out of it.”

Tiana slipped off her shoes and crawled into bed with you. You almost mounted a fight, afraid that she might take away the last of the smell of him. But then you remember that smell had left long ago. So, you fall a little more pathetically into her arms.

“I don’t wanna snap out of it, Ti. I don’t wanna lose what little I have left.” You whispered.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I deserve to mourn him.”

She snorted. “Y/n, he didn’t die.”

“No, that’s not...I mean I get to mourn what we were. It was--it was the best thing I ever had. And I lost it. I had to give it up so that he could be everything he’s ever wanted, and that means something. I get to hold onto it okay? Don’t take that away from me too. I already lost him, don’t make me lose him all over again.”

You could hear the lack of life in your voice in your own ears. And if the look of worry on her face is anything to go off, it must not be good. But it hurts too much for you to care.

“Okay. Okay, we can be alright with that.”

You nodded and snuggled a little deeper into her arms. She held for a while in silence. And it didn’t necessarily make you feel better, but it was nice to not have to shoulder the weight alone for a little while. If only for a little while.

***

You’re back at work the first time he reaches out. Work is still work and it still matters and you still love it. It’s just that you don’t get to take lunch breaks with him anymore. You don’t get the random phone calls to get you through the afternoon, or the dinner plans to look forward to at the end of the day. And it’s not the prospect of being with someone. It’s not being lonely versus being with someone. It’s him. You miss him. His laugh. That damn chest hair when he shows more cleavage than you did. The gravelly sound of his voice in the morning. And the way that he’d rather hold you in bed for hours than do anything else. You had never been loved so vastly and so wholesomely in your life. And here you were just trying to get by without it.

Your phone goes off while you’re in a branding meeting for fragrances. The only reason you paid any attention to it at all was because...it was a branding meeting for fragrances. Honeslty, who the fuck cares? When your eyes trail down to the notification in your lap and see his name you jump. It’s completely erratic, and you couldn’t explain it if you tried. Your heart rate spikes and your stomach is just as fluttery as ever. If there had ever been even the inkling that you could get over this fool, that quickly went straight out the window along with apparently any impulse that might stop you from opening it.

Shawn: Hi.

Shawn: idk if there’s like a rule somewhere that tells me how many days I’m supposed to go before being able to talk to you again. Is there a rule?

You shouldn’t answer. It went against everything that you’d said to yourself when you made the decision to leave. There had to be a clean break, or neither of you would make it out whole. You couldn’t answer him. You couldn’t.

y/n: I don’t think there’s a rule. But it’s probably not a good idea.

Shawn: Yea probably. It’s just that I walked past your favorite coffee shop today, and I went inside and bought you a dirty chai only to walk out and realized I couldn’t bring it to you.

There’s a sharp inhale as you try to breathe through the pain of a memory that might never be forgotten. It’s dumb. It’s coffee. Except for nothing is just anything with him. Coffee isn’t just coffee. It’s mornings waking up to him crawling into bed with you and handing you the cup because it’s the only free time in your schedule for the day. It’s shared bagels and fruit and kissing each other on the way out the door to go your separate ways. It’s adventures on the saturday mornings to find a coffee shop you haven’t been to before. It’s a whole slice of your life together that just doesn’t exist anymore.

Shawn: And then I spent the next two and a half hours of my life writing a song about how pissed I was at dirty chai. And instead of being mad at myself for wasting my life away I thought I could just talk to you instead.

You laughed, as he no doubt expected, and had to apologize to all the professional business people for not being professional at all. But hey, it was funny. And it was the first time you got to laugh since he left. Or you sent him away.

y/n: you’re gonna get me in trouble. I’m in a meeting, I can’t laugh.

Shawn: fuck them. I miss you. I just wanted you to know that. I miss you so much.

y/n: I miss you too. More than you can even imagine.

You end up in the bathroom in the middle of the day crying your eyes out. You don’t text each other again.

*Shawn’s point of view*

He gets called into his dad’s office more times than he can count. And first he says fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck his money. Fuck everything. But then his card gets declined at the gas station, and he figures it was time for daddy to finally pull the strings. The least he could do was go meet the prick physically to watch him do it.

He shows up in skinny jeans and an old gym t-shirt just to piss the guy off. His dad had never liked him in anything less than a hand tailored suit, and the thought of pissing him off one final time was too good to pass up.

Tiffany is waiting for him just like always when he gets there only this time she’s a little less than her perfectly controlled self. Her fingers twitch at her sides as she walks him back toward his father’s office, her face anxious and stressed.

“Tiff,” He attempted a weak version of a smile. “How are you?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t been this stressed at this job since your father told P Diddy to go fuck himself with a twenty-five thousand dollar bottle of scotch in his hand.”

“Yea? Well I’ll be out of your hair shortly and then things should go back to normal.”

“Shawn he...he’s pulling out all the stops. He has zero intentions of letting you leave.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh? He really thinks he can convince me to stay?”

“Yea he does. Please just...don’t give him a heart attack okay?” She asked as they stopped at the door.

He snorted and pulled harshly at the door without knocking.

“No promises, Tiff.”

In his office, his father is still just as pristine as always. He’s wearing a suit and standing at the ceiling to floor length windows of his office, hands in his pockets looking out like he’s contemplating the world. What a douche. It’s gross.

“You wanted to see me?” He sighed already over this conversation.

His dad turned to him and smiled for the first time since he was probably an infant.

“My boy! Why don’t you have a seat? Can I get you anything? Water, that kombucha shit you kids are into nowadays?”

“No, dad. I’m not interested. Why don’t you explain to me what part of my resignation wasn’t concrete enough. Tell me how I can make it clearer for you.”

His dad snorted. “Well of course you can’t quit.”

“...No I--I very much can. And I did dad. I no longer work for you. You don’t own me anymore.”

“Oh for christ’s sake, Shawn! You’re always trying to make me out to be some horrible villain.” He rolled his eyes taking a seat at his desk. “It’s very unoriginal.”

His eyes widened. “That’s only because you’re like the most evil bastard I’ve ever met in my entire life! You make darth vader look like a fucking kitten in comparison.”

His dad merely sniffed and looked at him as if to ask, “Are you done?”

And then he asked, “Are you done? Will you sit down now so I can tell you how I’m going to fix it?”

“This oughta be rich.”

He plopped down in the chair in front of his desk and leaned his chin on his hand in boredom.

“Now...I am going to get you set up in a studio next week. It’s already confirmed. Any producer you want, any collaboration you want, I’ve got it all handled.” He explained pushing a folder across the desk. “Open it. It’s the complete total package. I will have you at the top of the charts in less than a month. With your voice and your lyrics, and my power, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

He stared down at the folder with zero inclination of picking it up. The story was tired. He didn’t need to be at the top of the charts. All he’d ever asked for was to be treated like a decent human being. His dad has never been able to give him that. And as much as he loved music, if it meant giving up y/n the dream wasn’t even the same without her. Everything that he wanted in life had drastically shifted. There was a hole in his life now and he knew that money and music and material shit wasn’t going to fill it. So what was the point?

“What about Khalid? Can you get me Khalid?” He asked.

His dad’s face quickly began to redden.

“What about Normani? Can I collab with her?” He continued. “Oh or what about Ariana? She’s fucking huge isn’t she?”

His dad bit his lip and took a deep breath to contain himself. This was usually the moment when he started throwing things.

“Be reasonable, Shawn.” Manny hissed.

“Me be reasonable? You convince my girlfriend to break up with me and you want me to be reasonable?! Fuck you!”

His blood boiled. His skin felt hot and his heart hammered in his chest. He wiped his hands over his face just to stop himself from spitting. He hated him. He really, really fucking hated him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. His dad had always prioritized his own self interest over everything else, but never had he ever been so vindictive to him. Never had he so viciously snatched away happiness from him.

y/n loved him. She loved him more than maybe anyone had been loved before, at least that’s the way she made him feel. He used to think that losing music was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced in his whole life. But to lose her? Her? It destroyed him. Endlessly.

“You’ve got to get the fuck over her!” His dad roared hopping out of his seat. “You’ve heard the saying, don’t shit where you eat? Well I’m here to tell you you don’t fuck where you eat neither kid,’specially not someone who could be the help! Now I hand you your fucking life’s work on a silver platter and you think you can talk down to me? Cuss at me? You little shit, I made you!”

“Did you...Was that a racist comment against her?” His voice trailed off.

His father huffed. “Oh don’t be such a snowflake Shawn, I raised you better.”

“Did you just compare the greatest thing that ever happened to me to the help?!”

“You gonna pick that bitch over your own family?! I don’t know what kind of spell she has over you, but it ends. Now! I am your meal ticket in this industry and in this world. You fuck with me and it’s over do you hear that? Your apartment. Your cars. Those fucking jeans on your waist. You are mine. Now you can either get with the fucking picture and grow the fuck up from your fairytale bullshit, or I can make a call and you’ll be out on your ass. Do I make myself clear?”

It’s amazing how one person in your life can put it all into perspective, how she could completely shake his whole entire world. It wasn’t a matter of choosing. It wasn’t his dad or y/n. It was choosing himself and his own happiness and his own freedom. Every day spent working for his dad was a day not living a life for him, but a day spent directly towards his dad’s own self-interest. It just so happens that nothing in the world could make it easier than hearing the way that he talks about her.

He gets out of his seat and bites so hard at his lip that blood hits his tongue. But it’s the only thing that’s gonna keep him from knocking the shit out of him, so it’s worth it.

“You’re not worth a damn, you know that?”

His dad blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t excuse shit. I’d rather never sing a single fucking note than give you anything ever again. That woman has more heart and more talent and more balls than either of us combined. You think you’re some tough guy because of your money? Look around dad, no one gives a fuck! At the end of the day you’re gonna die alone and miserable, and if I keep following your lead, I will too. I’m done. Get it? Fucking done.”

He shoved his chair out of the way and headed straight for the door, his dad’s yells and screams finally rolling off his back without care.

“You walk out of this room and you’re finished!”

He paused and turned back to his dad, fingers gripping tightly at the door handle.

“Just so we’re on the same page? You ever talk about her again like that and I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you. I hope we’re clear on that. Good bye.”

And that was the end of that.

***

She’s sitting on the edge of his countertop in the middle of his kitchen. It’s where she often would sit when he tried to cook meals for her, and vehemently failed. She’s in a big soft pink sweater that just lights up her skin in ways he couldn’t believe. She’s beautiful. She smiles at him and parts her legs for him to walk between; he does so willingly. The skin of her ankle traps him against the countertop pressed perfectly against her. He smiles.

“You don’t have to try to trap me. I’m already here.” He tells her.

“Good. Don’t go anywhere okay?”

He trails his fingers up her calves and presses closer to kiss her lips.

“Never. I’m here. Always.”

“Mmm. Me too.” She paused to kiss him again. “Always.”

He wakes up like being underwater for a really long time and finally coming to the surface. It’s disorienting to go from seeing her any minute of the day that he could, to only getting to be with her in his dreams. It sucks how bad it hurts. It sucks that he’d rather be asleep than awake, and how much he wishes he didn’t have to feel the pain of surfacing when the image of her is gone again. It just all sucks.

***

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like utter shit mate.” Niall grimaced.

He rolled his eyes and tugged at his hair in frustration. There wasn’t much he could afford to do was there? He was just sort of lost in it all.

“Is that why you invited me to lunch? To make fun of me? Cause I can happily go back to my bed.”

“Alright, alright, calm yourself Mendes. I invited you out here on account of two things. One, Ronnie told me he hooked you up with someone at Atlantic and you never called the guy. Now I’m sitting here thinking surely my Shawnie Boy isn’t a fucking idiot, is he? So that can’t be. And then two! I show up to listen to the final mastering of the album only for some pompous bloke to tell me you quit your job!” He exclaimed. “Now what the hell is going on?”

Niall leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms before staring him down in defiance. The funniest part was that Niall had the kindest, sweetest face in the world. Even though he was trying his hardest to seem angry and intimidating, he just seem really worried and flustered. Maybe it wasn’t funny. Maybe it was sad. Sad. Everything was sad.

He goes to tell his friend about the hell his life has become when two people walk up to their table. It’s a little girl no older than ten or eleven, with an older teenage guy with his hand on her shoulder. He’s probably sixteen or seventeen based off the acne and the look of utter boredom at the world. The little girl is hiding her face behind what looks to be a physical copy of Niall’s album. He hadn’t seen a real CD in years. Must be a hardcore fan.

“Go ahead. Ask him.” The guy asked in a tone just as bored as his demeanor.

She looks up at him with eyes so wide and sparkly that even teenage angst couldn’t defend against it. He sighed and pulled her closer against him.

“Look man she’s a really big fan of yours. Honestly. Like won’t listen to anything else besides you. Will you please do us all a favor and sign her CD?”

Niall turned to two of them and snorted happily. As far as fan encounters go, it’s probably one of the best ones you can get. He held his hand out politely and the little girl plopped the CD into his waiting hand before quickly covering her mouth with her hands. She remained silent.

“Well hello there. I’m Niall by the way. What’s your name darling?” He asked.

A squeal was just barely masked by her hands and Shawn could seen the teenage boy roll his eyes in a certain level of familiarity. Niall smiled at her and the squealing continued.

“Her name is Jenny.” Teenage boy answered on her behalf.

“Jenny. That’s a great name. Jenny I would love to sign this and take a picture for you if I could, but I need to hear your voice first. Can you talk to me please?”

Shawn watches the way they interact. Watches the selfie taking and the signing and the hug. The way she opens up to him and tells him how much she means to him. It reminds him a lot of listening to music at that age. Whether it was Ed Sheeran or John Mayer, music can often times feel like the only thing in the world that makes sense. And it made him feel whole and it made him feel loved and cared for, when no one could convince him of those facts. He had needed music for so much of his life, and it had given him a great deal of self-importance. In that moment he felt more connected to a ten year old girl than to anyone in the world. And it set his mind on a path that it hadn’t been in a very long time. A place he thought would never be an option again.

“You two have a nice day!” Niall smiled at the duo ran off.

Shawn was already tripping out of his chair and reaching into his wallet to pay for the meal they hadn’t eaten yet.

“Get up, let’s go.” He told Niall.

“Oiy! What the hell’s going on?”

“Dude, let’s go!!!”

***

Why can’t I quit when you break my heart open?

I need you more than I know

***

I know a girl, she's like a curse

We want each other, no one will break first

So many nights, trying to find someone new

They don't mean nothing compared to you

***

“That sounded incredible!” Niall called through the speaker.

Shawn shook his head and readjusted his headphones.

“Again, please? I wanna try it one more time.”

***

“Mate, I got someone I want you to meet!” Niall grinned. “Teddy this is Shawn. Shawn this is Teddy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Teddy, aye?”

She grinned. “That simply is not the craziest thing about me in the slightest. I sure hope you can get over it.”

He shrugged. “Crazy? I can get down with crazy.”

“Oooo. This should be fun.”

***

“I don’t know, it’s like...maybe, maybe one day I could get to a place where it was worth trying again. I know realistically that’s a thing. But I can’t even imagine it. I can’t imagine anything that isn’t her.”

He takes another pull of the blunt she rolled for him and let’s his back hit against the bottom of the couch.

She nodded. “Great so write that. Write what it would be like if you found somebody new. We get the longing, we get the angsty I miss you shit. Write what it would be if you actually tried it though.”

He nods up at the ceiling, arms behind his head as the words start to formulate.

“Like . . . like loving her isn’t something I would ever be able do because it’s not--it’s not you. Because I had you, I don’t want anyone else.”

“Yes. That. Now write it, lover boy.” She sasses handing him a guitar.

***

They’re on a break standing outside the studio while Niall and one of the producers smoke. He hasn’t seen the sun in who knows how long. He’s been living in the studio, Niall putting up every dime for him to record. Every person that he works with, every hour that he spends making this thing is largely because of him. And he’ll never forget it. Somehow what means more to him than any of it is just how good of a friend he is.

“Why don’t you just call her mate?” He asked.

He was leaning against the side of the building peering up at the night sky. He still missed her so badly it hurt to think about. And all he’s been doing every day is thinking about it.

“I can’t.” He sighed. “I mean I--I could. I just...I wanna have something to show her. I want her to know that there was another option. If I try and get her back now, it will just look like I gave up my shot for her and she’d never be able to live with herself. I know her. This is...it’s the only way.”

Niall nodded and took another puff.

“And if it doesn’t work? Cause sometimes it doesn’t, ya know?”

“I know. If it doesn’t work than I tried on my own terms. And then it’s no one else’s fault but mine. Not hers’. Not my dad’s. Not yours. I just have to hope she’ll listen to me when my whole heart is on this record.”

“Well shit. It’s a hell of a plan man.”

****

He’s drunk. There’s no way around it. He’s drunk and tired and lonely a maybe a little horny too if he thought about it long enough. Niall, Teddy, and another producer got him hammered when he said he couldn’t write another song if you paid him. They probably meant for it to be inspiring, but really it had just rooted him in his sadness. So, he stumbled home and fell into bed and that was when it hit him.

“Hello?”

“You’re not here.” He mumbled into the dark.

“Shawn? What the hell is going on; it’s three am.”

He kicked his legs out on the bed and whined into his pillow.

“You’re not here! I’m drunk and I’m lonely and I want you to hold me. I want...I want you to tell me that no one gets to love you because they can’t do it like I can. I want you so bad. Why aren’t you here?”

She breathed deeply. Soulfully. It sounded heavy and full and like maybe it hurt for her to breathe the way it still did for him.

“Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I’m at my apartment... Y/n, I was getting kind of used to being someone you loved.”

She giggled and he had to roll over and shove his face into the mattress to keep from exploding at the sound. God could she get any cuter?!

“You didn’t write that one, superstar.”

“I wish I had.” He whispered. “Come over. Please? No wait, d--don’t. I’ll come to you. Let me come to you. I’d do that for you.”

“I think that’s a bad idea. You stay right there sir. You fall even more than normal when you’re drunk.”

He bit his lip and held the phone a little tighter against his ear.

“Yea. You used to catch me though. Why’d you let me fall?”

“Because...Because I knew you were gonna get to fly.” She sniffled. “And I didn’t want to be the reason that you never tried.”

He clutched at his chest, eyes closing. “Please don’t cry. I love you so much. Don’t cry.”

“I know. I know you do, and I knew you’d never let me go if I didn’t make you. I had to, Shawn.”

He shook his head, wishing more than anything that she was there so he could shake her and kiss her and flick her on the forehead.

“No. You didn’t. We could have made it work. I would have made anything work with you. You were it, ya know?”

So now she’s crying and he’s crying and her side of the bed is still cold and it doesn’t even smell like her anymore. And he’s just supposed to give up? He’s just supposed to do nothing? With this crazy ass beautiful woman who was the best thing to ever happen to him? Yea, not fucking likely.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You were trying to reheat this amazing french onion soup your mother had sent you the recipe for. Your stomach growled as you ran the spoon through it as if to say: “bitch we simply must eat more.” Despite Tiana’s begging, you didn’t have the multi-pronged attack from Shawn and her to convince you to eat in the busy work day anymore. The doorbell rings and makes you burn yourself on the hot liquid causing you to curse and run your finger under some cold water. The doorbell rings again. And then a third, fourth, fith, and sixth time in quick succession. By the time you head towards the door whoever was behind it had taken to knocking aggressively as all hell instead.

“There better be somebody dying for you to be knocking on my door like--”

You yanked the door open only for six feet of Canadian headache to literally fall into your apartment and onto the floor. You know...like an idiot?

“Oh my god! Oh my god, what’s happening?!” You exclaimed.

You were sure the son of a bitch had been shot.

“Ran straight from the subway! Elevator too long! Took Stairs. Can’t breathe.” He wheezed.

“You….You ASSHOLE!” You screamed kicking him in the thigh. “I thought you were dying!”

“OW! Goddamn y/n, I thought I was too!”

He fell back against the floor and placed his hand over his heart working steadily to gain his breath.

“Why are you here Shawn!” You screeched. “Besides to give me a heart attack?!”

“Because! I need you to be my manager!”

And that is where you killed him.

Buy me a ko-fi???

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[blockgamepirate]

Okay I think my tumblr glitches out when people I've blocked are in the notes of a post and it even hides notes from people I HAVEN'T blocked?

I'm not entirely sure but it's always the controversial posts that have this problem, whether they're mine or other people's, and at least once it got fixed after I unblocked someone that I knew had reblogged the post. Idk.

I just regularly find that I can't see the notes on those posts but sometimes I still get a notification on the activity page that shows like the first line of a reply or smth, or I see someone else on my dash reblog the post responding to reblogs that I never saw or got any notification for, it's weird.

I guess I could try just unlocking everyone since I mostly blocked people to be able to read the Techno and Philza tags and I've completely given up on reading the tags by now. But then again, maybe I don't wanna see the notes. I'm mostly worried about seeming rude but I'm probably not gonna respond to most of them anyway just because it's so time-consuming and usually pretty pointless tbh. I mean it's a Minecraft roleplay series, it doesn't really matter, not worth wasting my time on arguing with people unless I actually feel like doing it in the moment.

[amandaoftherosemire]

May Update!

Hey! Hi! I am so sorry for disappearing for awhile. I have to admit that I wasn’t going to talk about why but I realized we can’t get past a stigma if people like me don’t talk about it. I'll try to be honest, without being too much of a drag.

I have depression, anxiety, and panic disorders for which I’m on medication. I’ve dealt with these things since I was first diagnosed when I was nineteen, so I've got time and experience on my side. Hell, I've named all the voices in my head at this point (not really a joke). However, my doctor and I decided to change my medication at the end of March. As you might imagine, this was a difficult time to be fucking around with psychiatric meds.

For the uninitiated, the kinds of medications one takes for these conditions isn't the kind you can just stop taking and start something else. I had to slowly wean myself off of one and onto another. It took over six weeks.

I was not okay. One of my maladaptive coping mechanisms for depression and anxiety is isolation. So I isolated myself, but mentally as well as physically. I had to turn the notifications on my phone off because they were triggering panic attacks. I spent most of that time rage screaming at the news, disassociating with existential terror, and distracting myself from that existential terror by playing Animal Crossing like everybody else not deemed essential.

Weird to be both grateful and insulted to discover how not necessary I am.

I'm still not doing great, tbh. But I'm pretty sure most of that is living in the Mirror universe, trapped in a clusterfuck.

In the first draft of this, here is where I wrote over five hundred words about the United States federal government's response to Covid-19 and the consequences of that before I realized that I was ranting so I don't know. I haven't been on a full dose of the new med for even a week so maybe that's why I'm so angry. It looks to me like the world's gone mad, which makes it hard to tell where my crazy stops and its crazy begins.

So, the voices: I have Cramanda (useless idiot), Manda Pixie Dream Girl (butterfly chaser), Frank (voice of reason/asshole), Maleficent (RAGE!), and Amanda Prime (the organized soul with the clipboard who so desperately wants to believe she's in charge). My particular brand of crazy likes to crawl inside where it's dark and quiet, to cocoon itself with Amanda Prime and whisper about how pointless it all is while the inmates run the asylum.

I have spent most of my time for the last six weeks alone with these lunatics yammering away in my head, day and night, because depression makes my insomnia worse, so I’m always fucking awake. Or I've been bugging my husband to entertain me and distract me from the cacophony, from the endless worry about my loved ones. Like I said, not doing great.

But! I have been through this before (the med change, at least), and I know that it will pass. I know that I'll get better, that Amanda Prime and Frank will take over again and I'll stop feeling like this, but it's brutal in the meantime. That's true for a lot of us right now; regardless of our mental state when all of this started, it's hard to feel great about where we are now.

But my husband will put down what he’s doing to humor me, so I can’t complain too hard either.

I have been writing, however. I've finished a smutty Bucky one-shot that will be up soon. And I've got a new series starting soon. I was in a Winter Soldier kind of mood so I thought I'd take a stab at it and I'm almost ready to start posting again. I wanted to wait until I could do more than just post and run back to my cave, but I can't wait much longer so we may have to work with what we've got.

I love all of you. Everyone who follows me, everyone who reads my stuff, everyone I want to send messages to but it feels like it's been too long and now I’m weird and awkward about it. I'm a dumpster fire of a human being, but I love you.

And to anyone else having a hard time right now. I see you, clinging to the same cliff I am. Keep holding on.

[orbitariums]

the best part | stark! reader

this was tricky for me to write but tbh i did my best :’) + this is like super melodramatic u are in for a WILD RIDE. i’m also still working on getting better at like, action scenes and stuff so be gentle!

TW; death and mentions of suicide, language, mentions of guns

requested by anon: hey! would you wanna write a tony stark x daughter reader where like tony didn't die and mysterio actually wants to get revenge on tony himself instead of poor spider boy :( and like beck ends up involving tony's daughter in it somehow?? just very angsty but fluff at the end,,,,i just love tony being a dad

     When you woke up, you were in a chair, tight coils that looked more like robotic spider legs than ropes tied around your body and hands. You jerked, not completely aware of your surroundings, and the fog in your brain not quite cleared yet. You had cloth over your mouth and your pointless screams were muffled. Looking around the deserted, dank room, you started to panic.

     Tears welled up in your eyes and you couldn't stop the whimpers from spilling out of your mouth while your mind started to race. Questions flashed by your mind: where were you? How did you get there? Who did this to you? But there was one thing that worried you the most — where was your dad?

     You knew in a situation like this, your father Tony Stark would tell you not to panic, tell you to stay calm and be aware of your surroundings despite how much you would want to freak out. So you tried to relax your muscles, but it was hard to seeing as your body was bound to the chair and you could barely move your limbs. You wanted to be strong for your dad, but the fact that you had no visible way of escape was stopping you from finding any source of strength in this situation.

     But suddenly someone appeared in front of you, a man who looked familiar. In fact, you realized, the same man who had taken you and brought you to this place, wherever it was. Your heartbeat was racing now and your breaths were deep heaves.

     "Relax," said the man, a sick smile spreading across his bearded face.

     He was approaching you, and once he was right in front of you, your feet thrashing to try and keep him away, he bent down, pulling down the fabric from your mouth. You looked at him, trying to take in all information you could about who he was, from his maroon cape to his tech-savvy armor suit. You were breathless and couldn't speak, and you weren't even sure of what to say in any case.

      "You seem distressed. Simmer down," the man continued to speak, but his words were anything but soothing. He pulled something out of his pocket - it was your phone. "Your password is your father's birthday, how adorable." He turned the phone screen over to you and dragged down the notification center where you read: (dad! (30 missed calls) and (dad! (21 text messages). "Tony's been very worried about you."

     You finally found the nerve to speak,

     "Leave my father out of this!"

     "It's a little too late for that, YN."

     You let out a bark-like sob,

    "Who are you? What the hell do you want?"

     "I'm Quentin Beck. You will call me Mysterio only. And what do I want? Easy. Your father made a mockery out of me. Only to claim my creation that he ridiculed as his own, while I became a laughingstock. Do you know what he put me through?"

You laughed bitterly,

     "My dad has nothing to do with your failure. People like you don't deserve half of the credit my father gets. My dad is a hero."

     "Or... was," Mysterio shrugged nonchalantly. Your mind failed to cognize his words fully, but the way your face paled was enough for him to know that you knew what he meant.

     "What?" you choked out, now genuinely fearing Mysterio had done something to your dad.

     He had a faux frown on his face and in a theatrically apologetic tone he said,

     "It isn't my place to tell you this... it'd be better to just show you."

     And before you could even garner a response, your body was tilting forward out of the chair as the room began to morph around you. You fell forward out of the chair and were bound towards the floor, all restraints gone from your body.

     You panicked, thrashing around on the floor, which was pitch black and showed no boundaries. And you were wet - the floor was like one big puddle. Your body was limp from being tied up for so long, and all you could do was thrash around on the floor. You turned around, but the chair was no longer behind you. Wherever you were, there was nothing - just a black abyss, like walking around on a TV screen when it was shut off (picture the void from stranger things.)

     You tried to call out, but your voice didn't even seem to come from your own lips - it was just an echo that ricocheted around the room.

     "Dad?" you called out, first worried but curious, now panicked. "Dad?!"

     You lugged yourself off of the floor, wanting to get out of here. Tony was nowhere to be seen and this place was giving you the creeps - it felt like there were bugs crawling all over your skin and into the seams of your clothes. You ran, trying to escape the nothingness, but as you looked ahead, there seemed to be no end, and when you looked back, it was just blackness winding behind you.

     And then you heard his voice, and you weren't even sure it was him. You had never heard your father sound so meek, so not like his typical, strong, arrogant self. Nothing like the man who read you bedtime stories when you were too scared to go to sleep because he kept showing you horror movies that you shouldn't have been watching as a kid, nothing like the man who taught you everything he knew "just in case", nothing like the man you were proud to call your father, Ironman or not.

     "YN!" he called out, and you ran towards the source of the sound, the tiny speck that was your dad growing bigger as you got closer to him.

     Finally you stood in front of him, a battered and bruised, weak man on his knees on the wet floor. Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw him and you bent down to be at his level, reaching for his face and cupping his paled cheek in your hand,

     "Dad? Dad, what's going on? Are you okay? Mysterio said... he made me think you were dead."

Your voice was frantic, and no matter how much you were trying to tell yourself to stay strong for your father, you couldn't mask the worry that was penetrating your voice.

     Tony gave you a weak smile, one that didn't reach his eyes, which were filled to the brim with pain and tears. You could feel his hand overlapping yours, and the true regret in his eyes. But still, he was smiling, as always.

His breath was shallow and his voice was quiet, lacking the brassy, loud and matter-of-fact quality that made him Tony Stark,

     "I don't have much time left." Just those words alone made you whimper, but he just grasped your hand harder. "Just remember, I'll always love you."

     You couldn't stop the hot tears from streaming down your face, red and flushed, as you tried to hold on to him, wished that you had healing powers so you could help him. But you felt so defenseless in the moment, with nothing to do to save him.

     "Dad..." your words got lost in a choke that rose up your throat. It seemed there was nothing to say.

     "Bye," he said, and his eyes began to glaze over, his tan skin gradually turning pale and white.

     But more than that, he started to disintegrate right in front of you. You were confused at first, trying to catch him in your arms before he faded away, but you realized quickly that you could do nothing. He disappeared right in your arms. You wanted to scream, but your words came out in the form of hysterical gasps, calling for your father over and over because you didn't want to accept that this was real.

     You stood up, turning around in circles, trying to find him again, thinking maybe he had just teleported elsewhere- you didn't want to accept the truth. But it seemed there was no time to grieve, because before you knew it, you were catapulting to another destination.

     Now you were in a room, this time one with boundaries, four walls around you. The entire room was glowing red with the color of ambulance sirens or emergency exit signs. You felt a wave of paranoia over your entire body like no other, and your whole body was enveloped in chills that gave you goosebumps. Your sight was blurred from the tears and so was your mind - what was happening? Where was your father, and where was Mysterio?

     Your hands grasped at your face, your nails clawing into your skin as if you were trying to rip it off. You were in distress, confused and all out of sorts - you hadn't even been given time to grieve. But rather than sadness or paranoia, anger took over all your senses and you screamed out, your knees buckling as you dropped to the floor.

     "Fuck you!" you screamed out. "Fuck!"

     You heard a laugh that seemed to come from nowhere, the sound of it surrounding you. You perked up to listen, knowing it was Mysterio.

     "The way I see it, you have two options."

     "Get me out of here, I wanna go home," you sobbed out, and everything you said became an incoherent mush of words. "I want my dad, I just want my dad."

     "Listen carefully, YN," Mysterio's voice became dark and distorted as he disregarded your screams. A gun materialized in front of you as he continued to speak. "You have two options. You can either die trying to escape The Red Room and be trapped in a collage of illusions forever, or you can die here and now, and know that you will see your father again in the afterlife."

     You looked down at the gun that was at your knees and then looked up, your face contorted and your eyebrows furrowed, although you knew good and well what Mysterio meant.

     "You know what it's there for," Mysterio said, another chuckle building up like a growl. "Or, you can die in pain, and never see Tony Stark, Mr. Great Big Hero, again. What's it gonna be..."

     You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again, telling yourself to wake up from this nightmare, but when you opened your eyes the gun was still in front of you, the red lights were still glowing around you. You were crying, not because you were sad, but because it seemed to be the only way you knew how to react.

     Your mind, the logical, rational mind you had before you got dragged into this mess, was screaming at you to stop, telling you that this wasn't what Tony would want for you and that you were better than this, telling you that you were just being manipulated. But it was like some invisible force was shutting down your rational mind, and at the moment you knew one thing only - you had to die. Your shaky hands reached for the gun, the metal cold and hard beneath your fingers which were burning hot.

     "Good choice. You should really consider yourself lucky, YN, not everyone gets to choose how they die."

     "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" you yelled, your shouts so gravelly and guttural that you knew you had lost your voice.

     "Woah, YN, little hostile there."

     You bought the gun into one hand and slowly, hesitantly, pressed it to your temples. A quick and easy death would be better than the other death Mysterio had promised. You weren't thinking at the moment, that was clear. All you knew was anger, grief, and hopelessness- you'd die if it meant you got to see your dad again.

     You could feel the cold barrel of the gun against your skin which was smeared with tears and sweat. Your eyes closed, hoping it would relieve the short pain you'd feel, relieve the exhaust.

     "Dad..." you whispered to yourself. "I love you."

     Your fingers pressed against the trigger, but before you could pull it, you heard a thudding behind you, an all too familiar sound. When you looked up, your dad was behind you, in full gear, as if he hadn't died in front of you minutes before.

     "Show yourself," he said, and you knew it was him, really him. Your mind wasn't playing tricks on you - you hadn't died already, and it was really your father. Which meant that whoever you had been talking to earlier, whoever you thought was your dad, hadn't really been him. You jumped up, your eyes widened.

     "Dad?"

     "Get back, YN!" Tony shouted, and before you knew it, you were being propelled forward.

     Everything was a blur, you sat crumpled up in the back and watched as your father took on Mysterio, who had materialized from thin air. You wanted to get up, wanted to fight, but you were too weak. And you were exhausted — this whole time you had been being deceived, your energy had been depleted. You felt like you were under the influence of a very strong drug that made you drowsy, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost consciousness.

     When you woke up, you were in your bed. But you hadn't realized this at first — at first you thought you were in another simulation, all the events of yesterday rushing back into your mind. You jerked in your bed, sitting up in a panic, a string of gibberish leaving your lips as you jumped up.

     "Shh, shh," you heard a soft, calming voice shushing you, and felt warm, strong hands on your shoulders pushing you back down so your head was back on your pillow.

     You were panting heavily as you turned to face Tony, who was sitting next to you on your bed.

     "Dad?" you squinted at him, then started looking around the room, realizing finally that you were in your bedroom and not in some void or dark abyss anymore. Your breaths slowed to their normal pace and you sighed in relief. But you turned to face him again, that glimmer of doubt still shining in your heart. "Are you real?"

Tony's eyes seemed to shine as he answered,

     "Honey, I'm as real as they get." He reached down to hold your hand. "Want me to prove it?"

You smiled hesitantly,

     "Yeah."

     "Mkay," Tony squeezed your hand. "In third grade, you brought a robot that we made together to school for show and tell and they had to cancel show and tell because you were quote-unquote bragging. In seventh grade you punched a boy in the face for bullying your friends and I took you out for ice cream afterwards. Ninth grade, you had your first boyfriend and you tried to keep it from us and you cried when we found out-"

     "Okay, enough," you mustered a laugh, feeling confident in the fact that this was real, that everything was over.

     "Are you sure? I can go on," Tony said, and you giggled, but suddenly felt a wave of sadness rush over you.

     Your mind hadn't been in the right place last night - you had let your mind be taken over, you had let yourself be defeated. Obviously, if you were in your right mind, you would've fought back harder. You wouldn't have picked up the gun. You knew you had made the wrong decisions last night and now you felt full of the deepest regret. 

Your eyes got watery as you remembered what you had been so close to doing had your father not interrupted,

     "I'm so sorry, I really am."

     "Don't apologize," Tony said, his tone short and almost cold. He pushed strands of your hair behind your ear and his warm, comforting hand caressing your cheek. "Mysterio is a master of manipulation. None of this was any of your fault... he wanted to get revenge on me, and he knew the best way to do that would be to get you involved. If there's one thing that's one hundred percent true, it's that you are the most important person in my life."

He kissed your forehead and continued speaking. This was probably the most serious you'd ever heard your father,

     "I mean that. I love you more than anything in this world. And I'm sorry I let things get that far, I should've known sooner, should've gotten there sooner."

You decided not to cry, and laughed instead,

     "You left me so many missed calls. I think that's the most 'dad' thing Tony Stark has ever done. And I love you too, dad."

     Tony laughed too, but you could see tears building in his eyes too. He leaned forward and wrapped you in a hug, and you stayed there for god knows how long. When you pulled apart, you had shed a tear, but your dad remained resilient and strong for you and didn't let his fear show. He had never been so scared in his life, had never felt so guilty - because of him, his daughter, his treasure, had almost lost her life.

But when he looked at you, it was as if nothing had happened. He was smiling, and that made you smile,

     "I'm ordering your favorite."

     "Lin's Noodles?" you asked hopefully.

     "Yup," Tony replied. "And I promise nothing like this will happen to you ever again."

     "It's not your fault, dad," you said, feeling sorry for him. "And it's okay, I'm here. You're here, we're fine."

     "It is my fault. And it's not okay," he said, shutting those ideas down immediately. You bit down on your lip. "But, you're here, and you're okay. And that's the best part."

And he reminded you of that everyday from that day on- so many great things had happened to him in this life, but you were the best part.

all i can say is 🥺 ! also, jake gyllenhaal stans, did y’all peep that donnie darko reference i slid in there ;) ;) hope u guys liked this <33 keep requesting imagines guysss