#they even have a creative writing class! maybe i’ll try to get into that class next year if i can/feel like it

[lume-nosity]

i’ll write something! *makes 83287382 drafts but never finishes them because i lack ideas and am focused on other hobbies* actually nvm

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[sanakimohara]

My friend just introduced me to a new thing

Bully I.N, he’s just super mean to you, pushes you around, pulls your hair, slaps and gropes you. But then when people are around he’s super nice and the compete opposite of what he just did to you.

And he’s only mean to you, no one else. He’d just randomly slap you or when sitting down just puts his hands in your pants, and duh don’t forget the degrading.

I think it plays into people seeing him as innocent and nice when in reality he’s kinky and fucked up

Just an idea for you if you want 🧡🥰

“TEAR YOU APART” Y. J.

You and your friend are masterminds, love. 🖤 Now I want to do a series based on this idea! :) but I’ll settle with writing a snippet prequel for the time being… 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++

Bully Jeongin starts his campaign against you with name calling -and not the cliche creative kind that people can laugh at. No, he prefers to label you with his own perversions. Taking every chance he can get to whisper in your ear, “How’s my little bitch doing today, hm?..” “Is my slut sad already?…” “You’re such an attention whore. It’s pathetic..” “Where do you think you’re going dumb bunny…” At first you snap back insults but overtime his consistent belittling makes you less angry and increasingly compliant. You’d never admit to him that your resentment was slowly twisting into a form of pining. Your pride wouldn’t allow it…

Bully Jeongin elevates to blackmailing you when the opportunity arises. Pictures and videos of you changing, texts or risqué pictures between you and your previous crush that he’s miraculously gotten his hands on, and maybe even a voice note of you touching yourself that he coerced you into making as ‘punishment’ for even thinking about another guy. “You wouldn’t want him to find out about all these inappropriate pictures you took for me, right?” He had you cornered, faking concern as he held up his phone for you to see. You face paled as pictures of you undressing showed on the screen. How’d he even get those? Why did he have them? “J-Jeongin I never took those! N-not for you, anyway…and you know that!” You try to defend yourself but panic starts to set in as you consider what Jeongin would do to keep you under his heel. He grins, shutting his phone off before slipping it into his pocket as he leans in closer to you. His eyes bare into yours, swirling with mischief as he taunts you, “Who do you think people will believe? Me? Or some whiny little slut who can’t keep her legs closed?…” Your heart sinks as his threat echoes in your brain. “You wouldn’t…” “Oh, you know I would. Don’t act so surprised dumb bunny…”

Bully Jeongin knows you go to your classes/meetings early, follows you there when he can, and uses every minute alone with you to do his worst. No one thinks to come check on you. No one even considers the notion that you’re being groped and slapped around endlessly -up against a wall, on his lap, or bent over a desk. You try to scream or cry but Jeongin learns how to silence you rather quickly. Sinking his fingers into your mouth works best in his opinion, but he’s a fan of gagging you with your own panties too. Either way you’re left panting and nearly in tears as he takes advantage of you. He’s careful not to slap you hard enough to leave a noticeable mark, all the while cooing vulgar praises in your ear as you whine from the stinging pain that sears your cheek, and inevitably your ass gets the same treatment. “What’d I tell you about wearing anything under your skirt, little slut?” He slaps your backside again, harder than before, and you whine into his hand that’s clasped over your mouth, shivering as he snakes his free hand under your skirt to rip the lace fabric off your lower half. The cold air hitting your dripping cunt makes you groan softly and you pray he doesn’t notice the effect his torture has on you, but Jeongin knows…he’s known for a while. That’s why he has no remorse for what he does to you, feels no sympathy as he tucks your panties into his pocket, and is all smiles when he finally lets you go the moment people gradually start to fill the room.

Bully Jeongin is incredibly sweet to everyone but you. Greeting them with the kindest smile -one you’ve never experienced in earnest. His charm resonates through each interaction he has with the staff and close friends. It amazes you how cruel he can be behind closed doors but deep down you wait for those moments….secretly craving them. In those fleeting pockets of time he’s true to his darkest tendencies, fully himself, and in some sick way you begin to believe he only feels comfortable around you to be just that….his truest self. That’s the cynical logic keeping you from snapping, admitting defeat, and openly confessing your crush on him. He’d probably laugh at your stupidity if you did…

Bully Jeongin claims you’re one of his ‘sweetest’ friends when someone asks about your connection to him. He’ll flash a smile your way, placing a firm hand on your lower back to bring you close to his side, and stare down into your soul. He’s daring you to tell the truth, playing with your psyche without even trying, and he’ll win the game so easily that it makes your head spin. Everybody loves him, wants to be with him, but little do they know he’s got you to play with. Why would he pay any mind to anyone else when you were such a familiar, willing, and easy target? You don’t deny him when slips a hand into your panties under the desk/table. You stand obediently when he reaches between your thighs to cup your mound, playing with your soaked folds as you try to focus on doing your job/homework. You moan so timidly into his ear every-time he ruts his hardened cock against your ass, which unconsciously pushes back into him for more, and he’ll let you until you’re interrupted or he comes undone in his pants. The push and pull between you two is finite. He likes it that way and so it’ll stay that way.

Bully Jeongin gets paired/assigned with you for projects/comeback prep more often than you think is possible. You can’t fathom how you end up partners on almost every project/task. Even if you are assigned to work with someone else/another member he still weasels his way in. Sometimes you’re sure he threatens/bribes your current partners off to have your full attention -which is true but you don’t need to know that, now do you…Jeongin surprisingly has morals when it comes to anyone else speaking badly about you. He hates it and will put a stop to it as soon as it starts. Why? He’s the only one allowed to treat you the way he does. That’s why. “….don’t say another fucking word about Y/n. She’s mine. Understand?”

Bully Jeongin loves to make you ride his thigh when you’re supposed to be studying/working. He doesn’t care that someone might hear or see you. He cares even less that you’d rather focus without being horny. “I didn’t ask what you preferred to do…” he mumbles against your lips, one hand on your hip to control how fast you pass your bare cunt over his leg, and the other keeping his phone steady as he records the whole time. You beg him not to, blushing in embarrassment as you hear his camera shutter, “Jeongin….d-don’t..” you half whine half moan as he snaps another picture. “I’ll do what I want. You just keep riding me like a good cumslut…” “M’ not…a cumslut…” you scowl in disapproval at the pet name but the expression fades to a dazed one as his hand on your hips travels down to your ass. He grasps it tight, giving the tender flesh a harsh slap in response to your defiance, “It’s cute that you think that. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be making a mess on my thigh right now and moaning like one..” his smile doesn’t match the darkness in his tone and you swallow a whimper at the contrasting factors. The heat in your core begins to unravel with every disgusting insult his gentle voice spills. “Getting off like this is all you deserve dumb bunny.” “Feels so much better than touching yourself, doesn’t it?” “Why don’t you smile at the camera when you cum. Yeah, just like that. Show ‘em’ how bad you want my cock..” He laughs softly as his words bring tears to your eyes, little droplets trickling down your cheeks as you come undone on his thigh, and try your best to smile through the riveting sensation.

‘click’ he snaps another picture of you, making sure to play with your clit to drag out your high as he does, and your smile morphs into the perfect expression of pleasure.

“Look at you being such a pretty whore for me…” Jeongin smirks, rubbing your clit faster to draw more reactions from you, and succeeding much to your dismay.

‘click’

“Picture perfect slut…”

++++++++

This was quick and sweet but like I said…I’m considering making it into a mini series. 🖤 (I literally have like 4 currently going on rn…omg…)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I wanna lick the longest, sloppiest, sluttiest stripe up his abs/tummy. Like the urge is so real rn… 🖤 Credits to creator 🖤

[pantheresssy]

Spending Nights (Abby Anderson/ Reader)

Hello!

This is part 2 of ‘casual’! You can find part 1 in this masterlist! It took me so much time to write this but i did it, im rlly sorry, studying is making my creativity go away. Enjoy!!!

Synopsis: Your friendship with Ellie becomes stronger as you both get to know each other better. From the other side, Abby wasn’t dealing with this too well.

warnings: marijuana use (els), non graphic smut, too much abby and not much of els, angst angst, getting into toxic!abby.

“It smells like shit,”

Blowing the smoke on the air and, for consequence on your face, Ellie looked at you with a smirk. Her eyes were blurred and couldn’t stay in the same place for too long, in a trance with the sensations of marijuana. “But it makes me so fu-cki-ng good. Try.”

You pushed her hand away from your face and twisted your nose, feeling that the smell would make you sick and stick to your hair and clothes. You were in her dorms, with the notebook where she writes her songs open on your lap. Somewhere in the middle of your reading, you discovered a few more things she wrote. Small poetry’s. Most of them were sad, about unrequited loves, death, sadness of abandonment and the loss of a parental love. They were tragically tragic, but still beautiful.

Ellie looked over your shoulder, following your reading. Smiling when you turned your page to see the sweetest song you had ever come close to. She was a real talent, just like you had imagined when you first meet her. “I’ll write one for you.”

“If it’s as good as this one, I’ll say please.” She made a face and leaned back on her seat, taking the marijuana into her mouth.

Ellie blowed and talked at the same time. “This is the worst I’ve written since I started.”

You dismissed her words, outraged by what she had said. When you told her it was the ‘best one she had so far’ she looked a bit offended and gave you a full list of why it was her worst composition. Ellie explained to you all of her creative work and, by the end, you thought you knew more about songs than about your own classes. It was interesting seeing how her eyes shone and her voice became more happy. You could see that she really loved doing what she did.

When you went back to your doorms, not long after, you did with a smile. She really was a great friend, person, and writer. It was curious for you how she gad opened up about what she liked so quickly after knowing you for barely a whole week. But it was good.

The rest of your day, you enjoyed with one of your many books. Laying in bed with it on your chest, being dragged by the words. That’s why, when a knock sounded on your door, you opened it without checking who it was. Thinking it could be Dina — (or Ellie) — you never looked away from the page you were reading, only finding out who truly was when she spoke for the first time.

“Can we talk?” Abby said. At that moment, you regretted not asking who it was first. It’s been days since you last saw her, and you would be laying to yourself if you say that this wasn’t broking your heart even more, but you tried to ignore.

Holding your breath, you swallowed hard before answering: “No. I… I’m not in the mood for talking right now.” Deep down you wanted it, so when you kept talking, you wanted to slap yourself. “Maybe later.”

Abby stepped closer when you make a move to close the door, quickly trying to stop you. And it worked. “I saw you at the party.” There it comes. “Who is she?”

You raised an eyebrow. She had no right to be there questioning you, as if she deserved something. “I’m surprised you went, you never liked those things.” A small pause, “But I guess I should’ve had imagined, you have changed so much in a short time.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and you knew she was looking for what to say next. “Owen invited me”, And oh… oh.

Of course he did. You felt silly, a completely idiot. She never went with you when you asked, always making sure you knew how much she hated going to these things. But with him, that part never really mattered. “I’m glad he managed to change your mind.”

“He didn’t,” She said quickly. “I hated going there. You know this, Y/n. I… I hated even more when I saw you with her.”

An ironic laugh escaped you and you looked at the ground already feeling the tears filling your waterline, obstructing your vision. Abby was the proudest person you had ever seen and, when she said that, you realized that she was there not because she missed you, or because she wanted to apologize for everything she did, but for some jealousy of seeing you with someone other than her. You had to mourn her for the time she thought it was necessary, waiting until she wanted to come and talk to you correctly. Like at that moment.

It was a cycle that she had created and you couldn’t leave. On other occasions the same had happened, but not like that, with a fight so big as that one. You two have never been more than a few hours without talking to each other, and it’s been a long time.

You started poking your thumb, an attempt to keep everything you felt inside you through the soft pain. “You don’t own me any explanations.”

Abby denied. “I do, yes.“

“Look…” You started, letting transpire in your voice and face how tired you were of going around so many times, only to ended up in the same place. “We had the same conversation that day, you said what you wanted to say, what you felt-“

She interrupted you. “I didn’t.”

“So i am asking you to leave.”

As the last word came out of your mouth, you saw her posture fall. She looked sad, worried and younger, totally vulnerable and open for you. And you hated that you felt yourself softening. “Abby,”

She reached out for you and took your hand. You felt the urge to pull off her grip, but gave up in the last second. “Give me one chance.”

Swallowing, you watched as her fingers went to the inner part of your pulse, and you squeezed your eyebrows together. She was close, so close and God, it was good to feel her there. Your walls and anger were down as soon as she stepped even further after seeing your reaction, her lips touching yours.

And you did no move to push her.

Abby was fully inside of your room and closed the door with her feet while her hands gripped your wrist. You joined your lips more to hers, sighing heavily when you realized that you would not be able to let her out, even if you fought with all your strength against your will. Your arms wrapped around her neck and you two walked blindly to your bed, you sitting on the end while she was still standing in front of you, her back bent the kiss wouldn’t end. And you moaned, a sound that came from the back of your throat that seemed so desperate, wanting. But Abby smiled in enjoyment — (and proud).

Your shirt quickly came out of your body, then the rest of your clothes. She pulled you to the middle of the bed and started to kiss, lick and grope each part of you she could reach. Your noises only got louder, this time being followed by hers. And when her fingers went inside you, touching that spongy place that made you see stars, you felt your body shake with goosebumps. You couldn’t deny it anymore, you loved her and loved the way she made you feel.

You were lost on the fog of your orgasm, your mouth was open, trying to catch air for your lungs. She fell at your side on the bed, one of her arms supporting her head while the other supported yours. With the corner of your eye, you could see the smile she held and turned for her, placing your hand on her chest. You could regret it later, being so close to her, so open, letting yourself go so easily. But at that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else but being with her like that for the rest of your days. That’s why, when the words came out of your mouth, you didn’t stop them.

“I missed you,”

She hummed, taking your chin and pulling you into a light kiss. “Me too.” She said. “It was a torture, being away from you and seeing you with… Ellis… Ellie?”

You licked your lips, feeling her taste. “Ellie. Dina introduced us at that party. She’s great. She showed me the songs she writes today.”

Abby’s face fell into something darker, heavier. Jealousy shone back on her and you sank your nails on her skin, trying to pull her back. You knew that if you allowed it, that moment would turn into a discussion just like the other day or worse. She was territorialist and you hated it, especially after having fought with you because of your jealousy and insecurities. “I don’t like her.”

“Do you like anyone?” You asked, fun shining in your eyes and voice.

She kissed you one, two, three times. “You.” With her statement, you smiled big. Abby stroked your cheek, whispering her next words: “Just… can you stay away from her? For me, please.”

Just like that, your expression twisted in a grimace. “That’s why you’re here? To fuck me and try to say with who you want me to hangout with?” You got up and started to put your clothes back on. “Get out, Anderson.”

She faced you. “She clearly wants you, Y/n.” You laughed indignantly. “I won’t let her fuck with you.”

“Like you did that day? She won’t do it, Abby. And you know why? Because Ellie doesn’t hide what she feel, she doesn’t yell and curse when a problem pops up.” Your chest gasped with your words said in one breath. “Leave, now. You’ve stayed too much already.”

You pointed to the door, lowering your head and listening to her wear her clothes. Abby walked up to you and stopped in front of you. “I fucking tried to do this better. You can’t blame me now.”

How much you hated that situation, to be dragged by those words. The pain you felt before was nothing compared to the one you felt at that moment. “That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Making me feel bad so you can go over me?”

“I fucking like you, Y/n! That’s why I don’t want you with her.” Her finger wrapped around a lock of your hair and gave a slight pull.

You walked away and rubbed your hands on your face. “And you show it by trying to put someone I like as a friend away? Just go, Abby.”

“I ain’t giving up on you.”

She left with one last look and you closed the door as soon as she passed through the threshold, sniffling when the tears fell and your body was shaken with strong hiccups. You felt nothing but stupid. You knew that at some point everything would go down, but you didn’t knew it would be so quick, — not after everything.

You really thought that things would settled down, after just a few minutes and a moment with her at the bed. You thought you would go back to spending nights with her, smiling and kissing. Abby could make a fool out of you so easily. Sometimes you think you might hate her.

And this is the end!

I really wish I could write more than 2k but at some point I just start to repeat words/expressions and I have a tick with this. Hope you had enjoyed this ride and be patient with me for part 3 plss it will come out! Thank you for all of your comments!! As always, I’m sorry for any mistake.

taglist: @pinkpanther-44, @elsmissingfingers, @sofi4v13, @bready101, @mattxxamryli.

[junhui-png]

puppy love ⌦ .｡.:*♡

mingyu x reader x scoups? (Still figuring it out LOL)

—————————⌦

—————————⌦

summary: first year of college, you literally knew no one and you planned for it to stay that way but damn were you wrong

notes: uhmmm hiii idk what this is I got rlly bored so yeah LOLL if you read this I hope you enjoy and I’ll try and update like every other day hopefully 😽

‼️disclaimer: this is not proof read so I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes ‼️

genre: seventeen college au, love triangle between scoups and Mingyu, Mingyu being on a football team, financial major scoups, angst??, fluff, cute friend ships, Hoshi, Joshua, Seungkwan, Minghao, and Wonwoo r your besties, Also besties with Yunjin (Le Sserafim) and Minnie (G-IDLE), other seventeen members are mentioned?? Childhood friends, cursing, drinking

————————————————————

you were always quiet, even when you were a kid. Because of this, you had very few friends and very much struggled to make new ones. Throughout Middle and Highschool the only thing you could do was to stuff you face into books to pass time. Eventually, you being a loner helped you to getting into your dream college. You thought you would be fine all by yourself at your new university, getting a degree in Creative writing, but hell you were so far from the truth. You thought you could just ignore everyone around you and just keep your head low but god was that somehow ten times harder now that you had entered college. Soon enough you had been paired with a man in your Journalism class names “Jeon Wonwoo” You didn’t know anything about him, you didn’t know anything about anyone there actually. He has Black somewhat messy hair and a pair of black glasses to compliment his hair. Both of you were introverts so the first week of the project was painfully awkward but as the next few weeks flew by, you had successfully made you first ever friend in maybe 10 years? You weren’t even sure. Once you had finished the project (and of course gotten an A) you and Wonwoo stayed in touch and talked frequently inside and outside of class. Till he offered to invite you to meet his study group. You were of course hesitant but you ended up going and just like that you had made another 5 friends and then because of those new friends you met new people and became their friends. Before the semester even ended, you new basically everybody on campus.

——present timez————

“you finished the essay Mr.Marten assigned” Minghao askes you, slightly shifting in his seat to get a better look at your computer screen “yeah basically” you simply reply “well then…” You noticed Minghao had been really fidgety ever since you both had entered the library, which isn’t how he normally is, meaning something’s up. “You ok? Something’s bothering you, right? You turn your body to face him and his body seems to relax just a bit “ok so… I kinda..maybe, possibly told soonyoung that you would come to the party he’s hosting tonight” Minghao keeps his head slightly down “Minghao..” you sigh, slumping back in your seat. You rarely ever went out, only when it was some sort of special occasion but besides that you basically just stay in your dorm or at a library or cafe. “I know I know” he says apologetically “You never go out and I swear your gonna go insane if you don’t go out once in a while” you chuckle a little at his stupid reasoning “still I should have told you I just wasn’t thinking and now Soonyoung is all excited about you coming and I just felt bad telling him, you know?” You nod, “I guess I’ll go” you let out another tired sigh as you pack your things “really? Damn ok I didn’t see that coming” Minghao laughs, getting up from his seat “I’ll see you later than” He smiles and you smile back at him before he walks out of the cafeteria and you finish packing your things.

It’s about 7:30 when you leave your dorm and get an Uber over to Soonyoung’s house. You were dressed up for once in a while, wearing a grey denim tube top with matching jeans paried with black boots and a black bag. “It’s my first and probably last time going out for this month, might as well just go all out” is what you thought to yourself while getting ready, but now in front of Soonyoung’s house you gravely regretted your stupid decision “Y/NNNNNNN!” Seungkwan yells your name from the entrance of Soonyoung’s house “hi Seungkwanie” you giggle patting him on the back “I didn’t think you would come!” He says all giddy “A promise is a promise” you give Minghao a dirty glance, which he catches and throws you an apologetic look before rushing of to get another drink. Seungkwan leads you to the couch and plops down next to you “do you want anything to drink?” He asks and you take a moment to think about it before just saying “fuck it” and asking him to bring you whatever he’s getting and he nods, leaving you on the couch with some other girls. Your not left alone for long until you hear someone call for you “Yoo! Your Soonyoung’s friend right?” A tall man with black hair and a stunning face. “uhm yes” you responded nonchalant “You don’t know me but I’m Kim Mingyu, Graphic design major” Mingyu sticks his hand out for a handshake “I’m y/n, Creative writing major” you shake his hand, giving him a slight smile and he returns it. “Anyways imma get straight to the point. I’m interested in you. You caught my eye earlier and asked around about you and they said you were close to Soonyoung, and im also his friend and I’ve never seen you before, so I wanna be friends” The man says bluntly. Mingyu’s sudden “confession” Has your head spinning, searching for some sort of response “uhm ok..?” Is all you manage out but he seems satisfied with your answer “Alright, then go out with me this week” again this man and his blunt statements have you so lost and you can’t even bring yourself to say anything before he says “of course with Soonyoung, and Minghao and everyone” Your face gets a little hot realizing he wasn’t asking you out but in fact his grammar just sucked and you misunderstood him and he definitely got what you were thinking “You thought I was asking you out, didn’t you?” He says with a sly smile “whatever” you roll your eyes, hearing the man’s giddy laughter “IM BACK SORRY” Seungkwan squeezes through the crowd, two bottles of beer in his hand “some guys back there were CRAZY drunk” he sighs, slumping down next to you and placing the drinks In front of you. “Drink up!” Seungkwan lifts his cup up for a cheer.

“Damn girl you didn’t even drink that much” One of you girl friends, Yunjin says, trying her best to keep you up. It was well known in your friend group that your alcohol tolerance was basically 0 and that’s also another reason you didn’t go out much “CAN SOMEONE TAKE HER HOME!” Yunjin shouts over the crowd but to be met with no answer “I can!” Mingyu’s booming voice is easily heard over the loud music “Omg great thank you so much, I’ll text you her address” Yunjin pats Mingyu on the back before rushing back to the lively party, leaving you with him “let’s go then” he puts his arm over you as he helps you out of Soonyoung’s house and into his car. “You know, I think I should go out more” you proudly announce “Then take my over and have dinner with me and the rest of the group” Mingyu chuckles, starting the car “Ok!” Is all you chirp before you completely knock out.

“I swear to god y/n you better get up right now” you best friends voice echo through your foggy mind “what..” you mumble, the warm sun hitting you through the windows. You were now in your dorm room completely changed. “What happened..?” You scratch your head, still trying to process your surroundings “You tell me!” You roommate, Minnie exclaims “you tell me why, when I was getting ready to go to sleep, looking the WORST I could ever have looked someone knocked at our door and it was the most ANGELIC BEAUTIFUL SUN KIST Man I have ever seen, holding you bridal style!” Minnie exclaims once again “I WAS WEARING A FUCKING HELLO KITTY SHEET MASK” Minnie cringes at the memories of last night “damn..” you mumble, giving her a somewhat apoplectic look “ugh it’s whatever, he said you were drunk and he was just dropping you off and he brought you some medicine as well so take that before you leave” Minnie sighs, leaving you alone in your room “what the fuck is happening”.

You change into a pair of grey sweatpants and a beige like hoodie with your hair up in a ponytail “Sorry for all the trouble last night” you said, even thought you couldn’t recall anything after you had entered Mingyu’s car you knew you had probably brought hell down on Minnie night care routine “it’s fine, just take your medicine before you leave” She places the medicine on the counter before heading back to her room. You take the medicine with some water before putting on your shoes and grabbing your bag “OK BYEE LOVE YOUU” you shout before leaving the house. You rush down to campus and into your next class just a minute early “You feeling ok?” Wonwoo asks you “I feel horrible” you sit down next to him, placing your stuff down next to your seat. The entire class was just a bunch of yapping you couldn’t pay attention to because, one you were too tired and two, you were still trying to remember literally anything from last night. “You have the address right?” Wonwoo’s sudden question pulls you out of your trance “Huh??” You mumble with a confused look and Wonwoo face also molds into a confused one “For dinner..?” He tries clarifying but you still don’t seem to get it “the dinner plans??? Me, you, mingyu, Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan and some other guy?” Wonwoo tries again and it finally clicks, but why was he asking you “I know what your talking about but I’m not going?” You say “really? You said you were going?” Wonwoo says and that’s when you finally remember some of last night “OH SHOT! Mingyu told you that right?” You ask and he simply nods “So you are going” he asks again and you let out a sigh “yeah..yeah I’m going” you’re tired of going back and fourth so you just let it go “ok cool! I’ll text you the address!”

The rest of the day was boring, nothing special just the usual classes than group studying, solo studying and some “HI’s” and “How are you’s” here and there. Once you had finally finished your classes for the day, you return home to get ready for the dinner. You wear a simple black short-ish dress with a black leather jacket and the converse (didn’t feel like wearing the boots) “You’re going out?” Minnie peaks through your door and examines your outfit “you look nice” she smiles “thank you” you smile back “I’ll be back at maybe 9?? 10? Not sure but I’ll text you ok?” You tell Minnie and she nods “I’m probably gonna go out later, anyways have fun!” She calls out as you shut the door. The restaurant was only a 5 minute Uber drive and you also weren’t the only person arriving at that time “Hey” Mingyu says, almost creeping up behind you. You hadn’t talked to him since Soonyoung’s party and all though nothing happened you felt awkward, like you were meeting him for the first time all over again. “Hi” you reply “And uhm sorry for the trouble I caused the day before yesterday” you and Mingyu both walk into the restaurant and spot Joshua, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan at a table “don’t sweat it, it’s what friends are for” he chuckles, leaving you behind and rushing over to the table we’re your friends had been seated. Friends is what he called you. Could you two really be friends if you had just met the other day? “Y/N sit over here!” Joshua’s calming voice calls out to you “mhm!” You responding rushing over to the table and taking a seat next to Joshua. You guys talk a bit while waiting for appetizers when Mingyu says something that catches your attention “coups said he’s outside right now” “finally god damn” Soonyoung chuckles and the rest laugh “who’s “coups”?” You ask “one of my friends, I invited him today” Mingyu says and you nod. “Sorry I’m late guys!” A voice from the entrance calls out. Everyone turns around, including you to see a familiar face “COUPS! What’s up man!” Choi Seungcheol “omg..” at first you weren’t sure but now you were a hundred precent sure that was Choi Seungcheol “Seungcheol?” You mumble, in case you were wrong. The man’s eyes shot up to you and they almost immediately soften “Y/N??” He voice changed immediately after calling your name “you two know each other???” Wonwoo asks and you slowly nod, still in awe “it’s been awhile?” He chuckles.

previous / next

part 2 coming out 01/31/24 or 02/01/24 😽

[ryiju-muunie]

toji fushiguro headcannons?

Bend it Backwards!

18+ viewer discretion advised

Fem!reader/Toji Fushiguro Warnings: sfw and nsfw headcannons, mentions of pegging, fetish talk Word count: 576 DESC: Let’s get to know Mr. Zenin!

I don’t think I’ve seen these kind of headcanons around. I genuinely stand by the last one and I’ll write it too.

SFW:

Creative!

I think being broke for a lot of his life, Toji is super creative when it comes to just about everything. Your bike broke? He has a hack for that. Your car AC stopped working? Hack!

So my main point? I think Mr. Zenin is good at cooking. He can take anything shitty in your fridge and turn it into something decent. It’s impressive really.

Anger!

He doesn’t have the best cap on your anger. He can get mad at the drop of a hat, and take it out by loudly groaning and huffing. I don’t think Toji yells, since he knows how triggering it could be for some.

Maybe after he started dating you he decided to go to anger management classes. I like to imagine whenever someone pisses him off he just starts clenching his fists and goes “Anger management. Anger management.”

It’s only ever failed once. And that ended in a fist fight.

Fashion…?

Toji can’t dress for shit. I’m SORRY (no I’m not). He’s the type to go to Old Navy and look in the clearance section. If it’s in his size (which I think is 1XL) he’ll buy it.

So he has a random collection of shirts. I think if it’s clearance it doesn’t matter if it’s from the women’s section, he’ll wear it. There’s definitely a shirt in his closet that says wine mom.

Body!

I think in his prime he was ripped, and he still is, but not everyone’s going to have a 6 pack all the time. Don’t get me wrong, Toji is super strong. He can lift you and your mom. But, he’s got some chub on him.

At first he was embarrassed, trying to work out more to compensate for it. However, you helped him learn to embrace the soft parts on his body. So I do think he’s got a dad bod going on. But a true dad bod, not Jason Memoa between movies.

NSFW:

Up the ass!

Toji likes it up the ass. He didn’t know initially, even though he was once a man whore. It happened when you suggested pegging. My guy didn’t really know what that was and said sure because, let’s face it, he’ll do anything once.

He was surprised to find he really liked it. Now, Toji’s a bit embarrassed, so he only likes to get pegged on special occasions. So think Valentine’s Day or his birthday. You don’t mind, but you like how whiney he gets. It’s one of the only times you’ll hear him whine and whimper in a low tone.

Bisexual!

Toji is bisexual, or really just- he’ll fuck anyone. I say bisexual though since he has a strong preference for women, but he’s been in his fair share of homoerotic relationships.

His bisexual awakening was, follow me here, Marilyn Mason. This segways into the next headcannon ok!!

Goth fetish!

Mr. Zenin has a goth person fetish. It’s embarrassing now because Marilyn Mason is a shit asshole, but back then he was frothing over the pale menace. Now his fetish isn’t tik tok goths, no. He wants a true, trad goth to ride him.

Black lipstick smudges by his cock, your huge black wings smudged from how he fucks you. He loves women with shaved sides on their heads, teased hair. stretched piercings, split tongues. Oh, he’s into all of it. He wants a woman who wants to drink his blood and sacrifice his soul.

[twistthesinews-writes]

The Needle and the Damage Done

Summary: Devil's Minion era. Daniel drinks Armand's blood for the first time. There's no going back now. [1063 words]

Disclaimer: Listen. Don't come at me. I haven't even read Queen of the Damned. I hadn't been planning on writing any fic for these two in the first place. Then I remembered Henning May's cover of The Needle and the Damage Done and something possessed me right in the middle of an online class and uh. This happened. (Whether or not you read this, definitely listen to that cover. Because like. Damn.)

I may have taken significant creative liberties with how it feels to drink vampire blood.

Still in pretty rough shape, I might try to neaten it up, continue it, and post it on AO3 eventually. For now, though, it's gonna live here. Enjoy some fucked up power dynamics and a junkie not-quite-realizing that he's bitten off more than he can chew.

The first time he drank of the blood, he knew he had crossed a line.

Up until then, it had been just another thing to try, just another probably-dumb idea. Dumber than his usual, maybe, sure, but at the end of the day just another step down his not-so-slow but mundanely steady path of self-destruction.

The instant the first drop slides down his throat, he feels the ground disappear beneath him and knows he’s reached that path’s end. What he thought was just another step turned out to be a plummet off the edge of the cliff he always knew, but never truly believed was there.

And then it’s too late.

He grabs Armand’s wrist, drags it to his mouth with more desperation and naked need than he’s ever felt drinking from a bottle, be it liquor or milk. He barely catches the flicker of cold amusement from the creature he does not yet realize he has just become wholly reliant on. For this, he cannot find another dealer. He can’t drop to his knees in the right club bathroom for another hit. Now, to a deeper degree than he even knew was possible, he is an owned thing.

For the moment, though, he isn’t thinking about this. He isn’t thinking about anything at all, everything beyond the instinct to drink, drink, drink stripped from him. He is too far gone to be ashamed of the mewling whimper he lets out when the source of the blood is ripped away from him. He turns his eyes up, wet, pleading, to those of his new master and finds a glinting smile.

“That’s enough for now, boy,” he says. Daniel blinks, slowly, an electric feeling starting to spark its way through his body. Neuron by neuron, his brain begins to come back to life.

“For now,” he repeats hoarsely. “We can do this again?” It’s a moot question. If the answer is no, Daniel will die. That doesn’t feel like melodrama, it feels like simple fact.

“If you’re good,” Armand says, buttoning the cuff of his shirtsleeve.

“Anything,” Daniel breathes. “Armand— I— anything.” Daniel tries to crawl toward Armand on the bed, but abruptly, his tingling arms give out from under him and he falls, landing face-first on the sheets in front of where Armand sits cross-legged. Before he can roll over so he can breathe, Armand’s hand lands in his hair, pressing his face harder into the mattress. Daniel doesn’t resist. Right now, breathing seems superfluous to Armand’s hand on him, Armand’s blood in him.

You’ll never leave me now, will you? he hears in his head. Stars swirling behind his eyes, he shakes his head as best he can. He tries to open his mouth to reply, but the pressure against his face is too great and he can’t draw breath to speak anyway. Instead he thinks, as hard as he can,

No. No. Never. I’ll never leave you, never, never, never— Things are getting hazy, now—maybe vampire blood doesn’t actually absolve a human of his need for oxygen—but even as he begins to lose feeling in his extremities, still all his thoughts are occupied by that one-worded mantra, repeated like a prayer. The stars flashing behind his closed eyelids are blinking out one by one when abruptly the hand against his head yanks him up by the hair. He heaves in a gasp of air, the room suddenly very bright, every desperate inhale carrying sharper, more intense scents than he’s ever experienced before.

“All right,” murmurs Armand, effortlessly flipping Daniel onto his back, stroking his hair as he pants. “All right. How do you feel?”

Daniel blinks up at Armand’s upside-down face. “I… I can hear a woman on the street hushing her baby. She’s speaking… Serbian, I think? Something Slavic. And the Nuts4Nuts guy—he’s just put a fresh batch of peanuts on to roast. I can smell them. Armand,” Daniel says urgently. “Armand, the window’s closed. The window’s closed and we’re on the seventh floor.”

Armand smiles indulgently down at him. “And so we are.”

Daniel closes his eyes and takes another breath. “Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

All of a sudden, the electricity sparking through his veins meets oxygen and is set ablaze. He leaps off the bed, energy pulsing through him. “Is this how you feel all the time?,” he repeats excitedly. “God, no wonder food tastes like nothing to you—what could compare to this?” Daniel bounces on his feet a few times, then reaches out to yank on Armand’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go!”

Armand arches an eyebrow at him. Pulling on him is like pulling stone. “Go?”

“Yes, come on, let’s go out! Let’s go chase down some dumb guy or get in a bar fight or steal a painting or—or—or anything, let’s just go!” Daniel’s bouncing from foot to foot now, all but running in place. The energy thrumming through him is easily equal to any coke high he’s experienced, and usually he wouldn’t hesitate to strike out on his own at this point, burn that energy off however he saw fit. But somehow the only thing worse than staying still right now is the thought of being away from Armand. Armand, who looks from where Daniel is pulling ineffectively at his wrist to Daniel’s slightly manic grin with a deeply unimpressed expression.

“You’re forgetting your manners, I think,” he says softly. “Is this how you show me your gratitude?”

Daniel drops his hand as if burned. “No, I—I’m sorry—I—I only meant—”

Armand tsk’s softly. Daniel feels it like a knife in his chest.

“I know just what you meant, child. You think I can’t find sufficient outlet for the ancient energy in your veins here, in this apartment? In this very room?”

Golden eyes bore into him, and Daniel finds his sense of fear has been intensified along with everything else. He stops bouncing, trains his eyes on the ground, not daring to meet the deceptively soft gaze of the predator that owns him.

“Of—of course. I mean, what… what would you like to do?”

Silence. Daniel risks glancing up. The danger has dissolved from Armand’s face, replaced by a fond smile.

“Oh my darling boy.” A hand caresses Daniel’s cheek. “Why don’t we go out?”

*******************************************

Fun fact: I wrote the first draft of this by hand in my best cursive during online class. No clue why. I'd meant to take my lecture notes on that paper. In possibly-related news, I suspect I haven't gotten my Adderall dosage quite right yet.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

[qprpbj]

do you have any tips on how to start writing fics?

the outsiders brainrot actually has me coming up with ideas and i have a desire to start writing them into actual stories but i've never written outside of class papers/assignments and i don't really know where/how to start since it's all just my own prompts and ideas and there's no grading rubric lmaoooo

like do you plan out each fic with a list first or do you just start writing about the main plot point of the chapter and fill in out of order or do you just start writing and see where it takes you... do you do any research while you're planning or pull from other authors/fics/posts or write from experience...

how do you decide when to stop writing or decide on which endings/paths/plot points to go with... the deadly combo of indecisiveness and perfectionism along with having no guidelines or due dates is crippling me so im asking some of my fav authors (who have also been inspiring me to write and be creative)

wait hi this is so sweet thank you!!! 🥹🥹 i will preface All This (sorry i yapped so much lol) by. i’ve been writing fic for like ten years and i think a lot of my old fic, while deeply cringe and awful, was all very important to getting me where i am today where i feel i can accurately get across what im trying to say!!!

first. hone your ideas!!! try to find a good niche you feel comfortable in (but also. don’t limit your creativity!!!). idk for me it’s easier to start specific and small rather than super general bc then i have Tooooo much freedom u know. i think my niche sorta across fandoms is generally softer dialogue, exploring close siblings or familial or friendship bonds an dynamics through situation, a lot of fluff, maybe a lil hurt comfort

i basically exclusively write in order! unless i get a really cool line/paragraph in my head that i write out and save for later to fit in somewhere. i usually have a like one-line idea that just Comes to me (ex. this was my entire line idea that turned into that pony getting jumped fic!)

then i’ll expand it a little more into a shitty little paragraph (ex. here’s a few!!!)

and then tbh after that i just kinda write everything in order from top to bottom from there. i wish i were more organized tbh and writing long fic/chaptered stuff is still sooo hard for me (which is why i don’t do it much yet lol) but im really trying to break out of it!! slowly we are learning!!! retaining the inspo and drive necessary to write that much is harddddd lmfao

before writing i always do have a solid idea where i want it to start and go and end though. like that ponyboy jumping fic i Knew i wanted to have pony get jumped in the opening scene, then go home, try to break down cutting his own hair, brothers come in and talk him down and it ends with talking abt johnny, even if i didn’t like. List that all out in words in a document.

definitely do research!!! espppp for outsiders bc it was like 60 years ago!!! well researched fics are soooo obviously tonally different and it’s always super obvious imo when that sort of care is put into ur writing. that fic i wrote about darry getting a panic attack was important researching bc panic attacks weren’t well known or researched or even Called panic attacks back then, so it’d be hella jarring seeing like 1967 13y/o pony whip out “you’re having a panic attack darry 🤓👆” yk lmfaoo

i SOO get the perfectionism and having no due dates thing btw. i have literally like 5 fics i’ve started and not finished in my docs rn with like 15 more ideas i wanna write someday. tbh! try to enter that Hyperfixation Zone and be really excited about what you’re making!!! helps it go by easier bc i swear sometimes i’ll write fic and it feels like pulling teeth even though it’s supposed to be fun!!!

last thing. try and find friends to bounce ideas off of and go crazy with you <3 or ppl to beta read!!! makes writing SO much easier and sm more fun having a your own lil personal cheerleader!!! if you ever need a beta id be soooo happy to read whatever you’ve got and hype u up!!! <3 i hope this helped at least a little bit LOL my writing process is kinda chaotic ngl

[fiction-box]

Would you write for Sylvain x Cursed!Fem!Reader? I don’t really mind what the curse is or how you’d solve it, so you can get creative with this one! :D

Hey, lovely! This was actually really interesting and super fun. It was nice to work with establishing subtlety and growing that into a nice crescendo for the story's climax. I really got to work out my brain on how certain characters would handle certain scenarios, and of course there was the matter of coming up with how the curse would be applied.

I hope this is what you were looking for!

Requests are open. The story will be continued under the cut.

“Good morning. We have a lot to cover today, so I’ll need everyone to sit down as soon as you walk in,” Professor Byleth commented over her shoulder, drawing up the battle strategy your class had been discussing for the past week.

You entered the Blue Lions’ classroom, a small black notebook in your hand as you moved to get to your seat.

“Oh,” your professor noted, “Seteth told me this was sent to you.”

She was gesturing toward a slim box on the edge of her desk. Maybe it would fit a pen? But then why would anyone go through the trouble?

“Would you mind if I opened it now?”

“The way I see it, it’s yours. You can do whatever you’d like.”

Curious, you took the box back to your seat. It seemed you were not the only one intrigued; Mercedes and Ashe turned to watch from their chairs in front of you.

“What do you think it is?” she asked, “I’ve never received a package before.”

Ashe gave a sad smile, “Neither have I. It makes me wonder.”

More eyes came to fall on you as the tape was removed from the edges and the lid was lifted lightly.

Upon seeing what it was, you gave a small gasp. Resting inside on a soft cushion was a deep blue pendant looped through a small silver chain. The necklace was understated, and undoubtedly to your taste. You would have picked such a piece out for yourself had you seen one in the market.

“Ooh!” Annette cooed behind you, bracing her hands on her table as she stood at her seat behind you, “It’s so pretty!”

“Someone…knows me very well,” you chose your words carefully.

Sylvain leaned in next to you, scanning over the necklace with a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “Do you know who sent it?”

Good question. You would have to meet with this person and have a little chat. No one gifted something like this purely out of kindness. Not to you, anyway. But when you lifted the cushion, there was only a slip of parchment about as long as your index finger underneath.

You set the cushion aside, reaching in to turn over the paper.

Eternity

That wasn’t helpful at all. If anything, knowing that paper came with the box only made you more confused.

The phrase was iterated to your friends as you placed the necklace back in its place.

“Maybe it’s some new jewelry line looking to get its name out there,” Annette beamed, “Ooh, you’re so lucky!”

If that was the case, why pick an understated piece? On top of that, why you? Sure, you were the daughter of a Kingdom noble, but someone had to have gone out of their way for this. To learn that you were at Garreg Mach, and then to ensure you would actually receive the package?

Even Ingrid was interested, it seemed, “You should try it on. It would be a shame for it to sit away waiting for some special occasion. Besides, the jeweler would probably want you to show it off.”

You weren’t the showy type, but you could admit you were just as interested in it as she was.

“I suppose…” the attention from your classmates was beginning to make you shy.

They weren’t interested in you, though! It was the necklace they wanted to see, you reminded yourself.

Easily, the silver chain was lifted from the cushion and wrapped around your neck. Clasping it in the back, you found that it fell just below your collarbone.

Mercedes gave a soft giggle, “It looks wonderful on you! Ingrid is right, it would be a shame for it to collect dust somewhere in your room.”

She’s right.

“Okay, then. I…guess I’ll wear it often.”

Professor Byleth gave a small scowl from the front of the room, “Sylvain, I hope you studied your notes from my last lecture as closely as you’re studying that necklace.”

“What? Of course I did! I studied during the lecture.”

You noticed he didn’t even have a notebook.

“Very well, then. Why don’t we start by having you tell us more about the…”

~~~~~~

Thankfully, you had eaten a good breakfast this morning. The professor didn’t release anyone until long after lunch had passed. It didn’t help that you had spent every second writing down as much as possible to be looked over later.

You elected to bring your lunch with you to your dorm, mind focused solely on reviewing what the Professor had spouted during the lecture for the group examination tomorrow. It seemed she was more adamant about the topic of battalion management than the other subjects the monastery advocated.

An hour or two passed, and you had successfully copied the important bits of the lecture onto your spare pages. This way, your studies for the rest of the night were more efficient. 

By the time the sky turned to a dark midnight, you were still sitting at your desk in your room.

That’s enough for today.

Wanting to prepare for bed, you reached back to remove the clasp of the necklace you received. As though something was triggered by the action, it was set aglow with light.

Not right now.

“…”

Nevermind that it glows! You don’t want to take the necklace off. A new desire has overcome you.

You were in the mood for a stroll. Specifically, one to the woods outside of Garreg Mach.

The hallway was too dark for you to see properly, but you didn’t care. You shut the door behind you as you left, maneuvering about the monastery confidently until you came near the gates.

You stifled the glow of your necklace with one of your hands, sneaking around the guards as you let your feet lead the way. Somehow, these were the surest steps you had ever taken. Your destination was somewhere you had never been, yet one you were always meant to visit.

That very sense of determinism kept you mindlessly moving. Trees, leaves, grass, and several shadows drooping over everything stood as the only landmarks on your path. You treaded forth until you came to a gradual halt.

Calmly, you turned to your left. A woman in robes you could not clearly make out in the darkness made her presence known.

She approached you with a laidback ease; you were no threat to her.

And why would you be? You are safe with her. She only has your best interests in mind.

“Good to see you have accepted my gift, my muse,” the woman drew nearer, her hand brushing over your collarbone to touch the pendant, “You wear it well.”

You knew nothing of your current situation, but there was a settled feeling within you. There would be no need for questions. All the knowledge you needed would be provided, and what you weren’t told, you didn’t need to worry about.

A lovely way of saving your mind the trouble, is it not? Truly, she cares for you.

“Now, you must have seen enough of her at Garreg Mach to give me a proper report,” she gleaned, removing her hand from your neck.

Tell her all about your professor.

“Wh…why?” you managed. Your head was beginning to feel foggy, and you could no longer remember how you got here.

Hush. Do not ask questions. Only listen.

This voice in your mind was beginning to make your head spin.

“Perhaps you are too tired from your day to continue. You should not be able to resist.”

There were so many questions you wished to ask, but the blanket of exhaustion weighed heavier upon your mind than the cloud of curiosity.

“A major fault of my own design, no doubt. There is no reason to fret, though. I promise you and I will work through the problems together until we get this right.”

A rustle in the bushes caught your attention, though you didn’t get to point it out before the woman’s hand found your collar once more.

“Now, erase this encounter from your memory. Forget.”

~~~~~~

Byleth found herself working tediously at her desk an hour before classes were slated to start.

She saw you late last night, soundlessly following the gleam of your jewel until you covered it. By then, tracking you through the woods was child’s play. You did not seem yourself, so she played it safe and waited to learn where you were headed before revealing herself.

Only, she never did confront you in those woods. No, the problem ran much deeper than a student sneaking out after hours. It only took her noticing your strange gait and how the mage that appeared treated you to determine as much.

The professor needed information, though she would not have hesitated to attack if she believed you were in true danger.

It seemed the woman still needed you; however, Byleth could only hope to guess how long your usefulness would last. No matter. The witch had given her a day, and that was all she needed to form a decent plan.

The former mercenary silently debated whether to confront you directly about it or not. While it was true she left the scene early, Byleth still managed to learn that you weren’t in on the act, so to speak. Your mind was likely being surveyed, which meant asking any suspicious questions could ruin any element of surprise she might have. You couldn’t know she had a plan.

In truth, she wondered if you knew you were in danger, at all. Fortunately, there were some things she could ask.

Byleth noticed you enter the classroom a few minutes early. You had a few questions on her lecture from yesterday, it seemed.

“I would say good morning, but you look like you hardly slept last night. Were you up late?” she greeted.

Your brows furrowed slightly as you brought a hand to your cheek, “Do I? That’s strange…I actually remember falling asleep much earlier than usual.”

That was surprising. Did you not remember your encounter?

Beginning to cover the areas of confusion you wanted to discuss, the professor noted your strange clothing choice. A shawl was draped over your shoulders and covered your collarbone. You had never worn such an item before, so you must have chosen it for a reason.

Her guess? It was likely to shield the pendant from the notice of others.

Eventually, all of the Blue Lions found their way into the room and classes began. What the class didn’t know was that things would go a little differently today.

“Now, I know some of you may be upset or confused about this new arrangement, but there has been a schedule change,” she opened, standing at her desk, “Rather than doing our group work this weekend, our class will be completing its tasks today. Don’t ask me why, I don’t make the rules.”

Oh, she very much did make the rules, but nobody in this class would be so aggravated about the alteration that they would march up to Seteth just to verify the new schedule. Nobody in their right mind would contest her if it meant they’d be taking that exam instead.

“Partners and jobs will change, and as such will be decided by myself.”

There were a few murmurs at this.

You spoke out, “How long will this new arrangement last, Professor?”

“Only for this week, don’t worry.” Byleth looked to the list she had created before class, “Now, you and Mercedes will be on stable duty today. Dedue and Ashe will handle the cooking, Ingrid will go on sky-watch with Ferdinand from the Black Eagle house, and Dimitri and Felix will be working on weeding the grass.”

“What?” Felix complained, “Out of the eight other people in this room, why would you choose to pair me with him?.”

“Because it would bring me no end of lectures from Seteth to have you embarrass this House by falling out of the sky or burning a fish. Annette, Sylvain, please come see me,” she looked to her students, “but everyone else is dismissed and may begin. Your day ends when your task concludes.”

Students filed out of the classroom one at a time, Annette and Sylvain making their way to the front. Once the last student shut the door behind them, Byleth pulled the small paper she had been forming a plan upon out from her drawer.

“You two are going to have some very important tasks, but I’ll need you to keep this information private unless I exclusively tell you to share it.”

Sylvain scoffed, “What? Are others going to be jealous of our chores, Professor?”

“Do you remember the necklace your classmate received yesterday, Sylvain?”

“How could I forget after the commotion it caused?” he muttered.

“Well, I have reason to believe that piece of jewelry inflicted a curse upon her. The only time I know for certain we have is today, and we can’t waste a single second.”

Annette let out a noise of shock, “But Professor, why didn’t you confront her about it? Surely, if you had just taken her necklace off…”

“I couldn’t take that risk. There’s no way to know if that necklace can come off.” She glanced over her writing, “Just because I’m aware something is going on…just because I can get her alone…even then, I know so little that I can’t even be sure we have any advantage except surprise. We’re only going to get one shot at this, and we can’t give away that we know anything. Especially not to _______.”

She set the paper aside, “Annette, I’ll need you to do some research on curses and get back to me. Anything in the ranges of cursed objects, methods of cursing, and mind control should be good places to start. The sooner we know what we’re dealing with, the sooner we’ll know where to look for a solution.”

“Got it!” she exclaimed, rushing out of the room to the library.

“I’ll be joining you in just a moment!” Byleth called after her.

Sylvain leaned forward, “What about me?”

“You have a more…practical role to play…”

~~~~~~

Hours went by, Annette finally reporting her progress. The only way to break the spell was either by getting the mage to remove it herself, or by killing her altogether.

Best to prepare for the latter, Byleth thought. That woman didn’t look the type to go down without a fight. Or to play fair, for that matter.

Well then, she’d need to take away as much leverage as possible. The former mercenary seemed to recall that your natural exhaustion dampened your necklace’s control, the other night.

“Alright, listen up Annette. Here’s what I need you to do…”

~~~~~~

“Hey, Mercie!” you heard Annette call.

Currently, Mercedes was helping you brush out and dry off the last few horses. Today’s stallions were rather well-behaved, though it took no small amount of energy to care for the horses on a good day.

Things were also slowed down by the leisurely pace you two had been going at thus far, taking a break for lunch at one point and having a bit of fun with each other between tasks.

“What is it, Annie?”

The smaller girl gave a glance toward you before focusing on her friend again, “I, um…the professor wanted me to speak with you.”

“I see,” Mercedes nodded, setting her brush down. She turned back to you, “Please, just give me a moment. I’ll get right back to working with you once this is settled.”

“Take your time!” you smiled.

As the girls walked away, the voice that had been so present in your thoughts today grew louder.

What are they saying? They are keeping secrets from you.

No, you rationalized. They always did that sort of thing. The two were incredibly close far before you came along. Besides, this was something the professor needed. If it had anything to do with her more personal affairs, it was none of your business anyway.

Could it be that your professor is wary of you? Did you reveal the pendant? One can never be too certain, in these times…

The more you tried to reassure yourself, the more wary you became. Though you knew you were surrounded by those that would never hurt you, a feeling of dread had rooted itself within your mind.

A similar feeling came whenever your mind had its more…forceful thoughts…yet never was it stronger than when you dreamt last night.

With each swipe of your comb along horse hair, images would flood your mind. You, covering your pendant with a shawl. You, falling asleep early last night.

You, heading back into the woods tonight.

…back?

“I’m so sorry!” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts. It was Mercedes. Apparently, her conversation had concluded, but she remained standing next to Annette, “It seems the professor needs me to help her reassign vulneraries. You’ll be okay finishing the rest of this by yourself, won’t you?”

A reasonable excuse?

Of course it was. As the Blue Lions’ best cleric, Mercedes was always called to meet with the professor over vulnerary assignments.

…very well.

“No problem! Come back when you’re done, okay?”

Annette and Mercedes exchanged glances you didn’t quite like. Something told you she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Sure!” Annette cut in, “I’ll even help you out after I finish in the greenhouse!”

“Really? Thanks so much, Annette!”

But she must have never gotten her task done. Once the horses were locked up in their stables and the sky was painted orange, you were just as alone as when they left you.

Liars.

You didn’t want to hate them for it.

Some true friends you have. For them to abandon you after making promises like that…

They would never hurt you on purpose. Their chores were important, so it simply must have taken them longer than usual.

After a quick stop at the dining hall, you returned to your room. It had been such a long day, you were almost excited to get some rest.

Ah, ah. Not yet. You are meant to be going to the woods, remember?

Of course. How could you forget? You had only been thinking of that trip for what, a whole day?

Be not seen. Make haste.

Leaving your shawl behind, you changed into clean clothes before heading off.

The lovely glow of your favorite necklace shone down the hall as you went. Unfortunately, you needed to stifle the shine with your hand a few times to sneak off the grounds past the guards.

Why was this so familiar?

Just a little farther…

Greenery, darkness, moonlight, left.

A dark-robed woman revealed herself, “Fascinating. Tell me, do you know who I am?”

Who is she to you? Be honest.

“You-”

An arrow suddenly lodged itself in the woman’s shoulder.

“Augh-!”

HelpHelpHelpHelpHelpHelpHelp

The amulet you wore shone brighter than ever as all your instincts commanded that you protect her.

Surveying your surroundings, you spotted someone you knew holding the bow. It was your professor, and by the way she shifted her arms in the dark, she was going to nock another arrow.

Without thinking, you advanced. At least, you tried to. Your lunge was interrupted by a strong arm catching your waist, but it was clumsy and rushed. The counterweight caused both your own momentum and that of your supposed assailant to switch, bringing you both to the ground as you collided.

HelpMeHelpMeHelpMeHelpMeHelpMeHelpMeHelpMe

This mantra kept interrupting your focus until your back was against their chest. The two of you were in an awkward, semi-upright position as you struggled against the arms restraining you.

“You sure about this, Professor?” strained a man’s voice. A lock of red hair came into your field of view.

“Do it. It’s for her own good.”

Who you now knew to be Sylvain removed one of his arms’ grasp on you, reaching for something you couldn’t see. His hand returned just as quickly, though he held a small vial of herbs and pollen between his fingers.

Suddenly, you were flipped so that you were on your back on the ground and he was above you. He clamped one of his hands over your mouth, forcing you to breathe through your nose.

“Sorry about this,” he frowned as he popped the vial open and held it underneath your nostrils.

HelpMeHelpMeHelpMeHelpMe

But you couldn’t. After five quick inhales from your aggressive, breathless state, the floral mixture muddled all your senses together.

“Protect her until…” Professor Byleth’s voice faded out, though you watched her finally rush out of the bush, sword in hand, to confront the stranger.

…cold…it was so cold.

“...onastery…”

The sweetened scent haunted you.

~~~~~~

When you woke up, Manuela was with you in the infirmary.

According to the physician, you had been asleep for three days.

“Poor dear, you looked so pale. But you’re well rested now, and I think I’ve managed to flush your system of that awful pollen.”

The pollen…

“I remember that!” you sat up in a panic. “It was Professor Byleth…and Sylvain…”

“Yes,” Manuela laughed. “They filled me in once they came back with you. I swear, that boy worried himself out of an appetite the day they brought you back. He must have held the narcotic powder to your nose for too long.”

Subconsciously, your hand migrated to the lower half of your face.

“He blames himself, of course, but in all honesty I think it was more than that. Curses take a toll on your body as they are. Combine that with natural exhaustion, and that’s a nasty little recipe that’ll keep anyone out for a long time. Not that my telling him that kept him from checking in on you every few hours.”

After a few final checks, the songstress assured you that you were just fine before sending you off to the dining hall to get something to eat.

Needless to say, you couldn’t get there without talking with everyone you bumped into on the way.

Mercedes and Annette were the first to call out your name.

“Oh my goodness! I’m really sorry about lying to you,” Annette wailed. “I was really scared, but I knew the professor had a plan to keep you safe. I felt bad every second of it, though I know that’s probably not worth anything.”

You wrapped them both in a hug, “Please, don’t worry about it! I completely understand.”

“If there’s anything we can do for you, just let us know,” Mercedes offered.

“Of course.”

You smiled and waved at each other, parting ways as you continued on your trip to the dining hall.

More members of your house stopped you as you went. Dimitri wanted to apologize, promising he would attempt to prevent such occurrences in the future. Professor Byleth approached from behind him as the prince explained he was upset with himself for not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

Quickly, you assured him that no one did; you weren’t even aware you were cursed. Your teacher chimed in at that, saying she only found out by sheer luck. She threw a rare smile your way though, glad to have you back and happy to fill you in.

The necklace was given to Professor Hanneman and the woman was brought in for questioning, according to your professor. The woman had chosen to value her life over her secrets, it seemed.

“Thank you for everything,” you worried. “I don’t…that could have gone downhill way too quickly.”

“Don’t even think about it. You are my student; it is my responsibility to keep you safe.”

Her eyes slid past yours, as though she saw something behind you.

“In any case, Dimitri and I were just headed to the training grounds to spar with Felix and Dedue. Feel free to join us later, if you’re feeling better. We wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, though.”

“Oh, good luck,” you waved as they turned and left.

You heard your name from behind you.

Sylvain looked somewhat breathless, slowing up a few paces away by the time you shifted to face him.

“Sylvain,” was about as far as you got before he cut you off.

“I am so sorry,” he started. “Goddess, when we got you back…you were bruised, you were knocked out…I messed up.”

You were taken off guard. Such blunt sincerity wasn’t something you expected from him of all people.

…Manuela really wasn’t kidding when she said he was beating himself up over this.

“Hey…you saved me- you might have saved the professor too, since I know she’s who that woman was after. I have no clue what was in store for me, though I probably would have just kept living life trapped in limbo.”

“...maybe, but…” he struggled to find an argument.

“I know. Look, I-I’d rather have a few bruises than a chain binding me. You and Professor Byleth, you’re the reason I’m free. That’s more important to me than anything.”

“Right. Okay, then,” he nodded, taking a breath.

“So there. I forgive you.” You began to laugh, “Now look at us; I’m the one who’s worried. I don’t even think there’s a way I can repay you for helping me.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” he waved it off. “Although…you could come for a meal in the dining hall with me.”

“You’re in luck. I just happen to be on my way there right now,” you grinned. “Best not to leave a debt unsettled, right?”

He laughed, “I told you, you don’t need to think that way.”

Though the two of you went back and forth verbally, you went to the dining hall together.

And this time, the only voice telling you, this is right, was the one in your heart.

[marmorafarms]

The Hazards of Love Ch 3

I have a bonus chapter for you all! I ended up getting super inspired, and decided to split the chapter into two instead of doing one huge chapter. I hope you enjoy!

The song mentioned in this chapter is a real song! It's one of my favorites, and is called Kun Anta, by Humood AlKhudher! I translated the bits I put in as best I could, but I might not have done the best job ever, so sorry to y'all who are more fluent in Arabic than I am!

Pairing: Labru

Word Count: 2098

Chapter Rating: Teen+

You can read it down below or on ao3!

THEN:

Ever since the concert with Laios, the two had become almost inseparable. It was hard to find one without the other, both men seeming to genuinely love being around each other. Even though Laios was a little odd, Kabru found that he really didn’t mind that much. He might be different, but he was passionate about his interests, and it softened Kabru’s heart to hear him talk about his two passions—exotic animals, and cooking.

“You know, I’d love to cook something with you sometime!” Laios said one day, seemingly out of the blue. The two were studying in the library, Laios looking over his notes for creative writing, and Kabru working on some math.

“What?” Kabru asked, confused. They hadn’t even been talking about food, so he wasn’t really sure what had brought this on.

“We should cook,” Laios said. “I think you should meet my friend Senshi, he’s a cooking instructor, and can make an amazing meal out of anything! I was just thinking, I want you to meet my friends. I’ve met yours, so you should meet mine!”

Kabru winced, thinking about Laios’ introduction to Rin. She had been ice cold, but either Laios hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care.

“Is it because he’s pretty?” Rin had asked after hanging out with Laios. Kabru glared at her.

“Probably,” their friend Mickbell said with a snort. “I can’t believe you want to hang out with that blond dumbass,” he continued. “He’s friends with Chilchuck! Don’t you remember that weirdo from high school? Ugh, I can’t believe we have to be friends with those chuckleheads now.”

“It’s not that,” Kabru said, trying to keep a cool head. “He’s nice. Genuine. Maybe he’s a little strange, but that just makes him even better. He’s himself, no matter what. It’s beautiful.”

Mickbell made a loud fake gagging noise, and Rin rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say,” she said grumpily.

Kabru hoped that meeting Laios’ friends would go over a little bit better, and that hopefully none of them would have rude things to say about him behind his back. He had agreed to meet Senshi, which had overjoyed Laios. He gave Kabru a one thousand watt smile, and clapped him on the back.

“We’ll have so much fun!” Laios said. “You should bring some ingredients!”

“Like what?” Kabru said. “We should probably come up with a meal first instead of just bringing random ingredients and hoping it makes something.”

“Hmm…” Laios said thoughtfully. “I’ll ask Senshi what would be good.”

Kabru nodded. “Okay that sounds--”

“Oops!” a feminine voice said as someone bumped into Kabru. “Sorry!”

Kabru turned in his chair, and saw two people behind him. They were both blonde and very feminine looking. The shorter of the two was who was looking a Kabru in a way he very much didn’t like. She leaned against the table, a sly smile on her face, eyes hooded. He recognized this look. It was the look of someone who was going to try to shoot their shot, and Kabru really wasn’t in the mood.

“It’s fine,” Kabru said, trying to sound as disinterested in her as possible.

“Oh I’m glad I didn’t bother you,” she said. “Hey, I think I recognize you! I think you’re in my stats class! With Professor Jakob?”

“Maybe,” Kabru said, “It’s a huge class. Sorry, I don’t think I recognize you.”

Her face fell, but brightened as she continued. “Well, my name is Fleki, and this is Lycion,” she said, nodding to the man next to her, who raised a hand in greeting.

“Great, nice to meet you,” Kabru said. He turned back to his math, but Fleki continued to talk.

“There’s a really awesome party coming up next weekend,” she said, sliding Kabru a piece of paper. “There’s my number. Call me sometime, okay?” she said with a grin. Kabru gave a forced smile, and felt relieved as she left.

“Are you going to call her?” Laios asked. “She was pretty.”

“She was, but that’s not enough to make me want to call her,” Kabru said. “She was so rude, just butting into our conversation. And I did recognize her.”

“Really?” Laios said, surprised. “But you told her you didn’t!”

“I know Fleki by reputation, but not by looks. At first I was being honest, but as soon as she said her name, I realized who she was. She’s a druggie, always high on mushrooms or LSD or shit like that. An awesome party…probably just wants to get high and mess around.”

“Would you want to do that?” Laios asked.

“Want to get high and fuck her? Hell no!” Kabru said, shocked.

“No, I…I more meant the idea. Getting high and messing around with someone,” Laios said, sounding slightly flustered.

Kabru blinked. What?

“Um, I don’t know?” Kabru said. “Maybe if it was like, weed or something. I don’t go any harder than that. I’ve never had sex while high though.”

“I have,” Laios said.

“Really?” Kabru said, and Laios nodded.

“I don’t have a lot of experience though, not many people want to go that far with me, but when I have--”

“Oh that’s bullshit, you’re hot as fuck!” Kabru burst out. It didn’t take long for him to register what he had just said, and felt his face heating up, wishing a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him whole. Why had he said that?!

“Excuse me?” Laios said, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“I…” Kabru floundered, trying to figure out how to save the situation, “I just meant that you’re a good looking guy so it’s hard to believe that people wouldn’t want to do it with you!”

“Oh,” Laios said, eyes wide. “Well…I don’t have trouble getting dates if it’s on an app. Girls seem to like how I look. But it’s after that’s the problem. Once they meet me, most of them don’t want to date me. I weird people out,” Laios said sadly. “So meeting people in person is pretty much out of the question. They meet me and are instantly turned off.”

“That’s stupid,” Kabru said with a frown. “You’re great! Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a guy!” Laios said.

Ah.

That line.

Kabru sighed. Having said that stupid phrase, Laios was probably straight. If he wasn’t able to consider that a man could have feelings for another man…or maybe he was operating under the assumption that Kabru was straight? Well, the band aid would have to be ripped off at some point, might as well say something now.

“First of all, it doesn’t matter that I’m a guy, it’s obvious that anyone would be lucky to be with you. You’re a great guy with a good heart. But secondly, I happen to enjoy guys just as much as those girls you’re talking about.”

“Enjoy guys?” Laios said slowly, looking confused. Kabru wanted to slam his head against the table. Why was Laios so slow on the uptake?

“I fuck guys,” Kabru said bluntly, and Laios choked on air.

“You’re gay?” Laios said, after his coughs subsided.

“Bi,” Kabru said, “but yeah, I’m into guys. You?”

“I…I’m not really sure,” Laios said after a moment. “I think I’m straight but…”

“But?” Kabru pressed, and Laios looked away.

“I dunno. I’ve never thought about much until…” Laios paused, the apples of his cheeks flushing once more. “Well, I was talking with my friends and then my sister’s girlfriend, Marcille, called me ‘heteroflexible.’ So…maybe I like guys? Sometimes?”

Holy shit! He likes guys!

Kabru felt his heart flutter. Was being with Laios an actual possibility?

“But that just means the amount of people who don’t want to date me has just doubled,” Laios said with a bitter laugh. “I’ve tried to be someone else, a whole new person, but it never works. I’m just…me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. There’s this song I like…it reminds me of you. It’s in Arabic, but it says basically that if you’re yourself, you’re beautiful.”

“So, in your opinion,” Laios said slowly, “If I just let myself be myself, I’ll be beautiful?”

“Yes,” Kabru said firmly. “Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I won’t,” Laios said with a soft smile. “I promise.”

NOW

Laios sat in his car, wondering if this was a good idea. He hadn’t asked beforehand, but it was visiting hours. He desperately wanted to see Kabru, even though he had no idea what he would even say.

Laios turned his music on shuffle and hit play. And then it came on. The song, their song.

Pulling up his GPS, he put in the name of the hospital and began to drive. This was probably a stupid idea, but Laios didn’t care. He needed to see Kabru, even if it was just for a few minutes, or even seconds. Even if he was just looking through the window…he needed to see his face.

(in order to keep up with them I imitated their appearance. So I looked like someone else, just to brag. I thought I had become rich, but I found I had lost, for these are appearances)

لأجاريهم، قلّدت ظاهر ما فيهم

فبدوتُ شخصاً آخر، كي أتفاخر

و ظننتُ أنا، أنّي بذلك حُزْت غنى

فوجدتُ أنّي خاسر، فتلك مظاهر

Laios’ breath caught in his throat, and he both wanted to listen and didn’t want to listen all at the same time. He didn’t speak Arabic, but he could still remember Kabru telling him the meaning of the song, telling him how much it reminded him of Laios.

كن أنت تزدد جمالاً

(Be yourself and you will be more beautiful)

Kabru had told him this line on that day in the library. Told him that as long as he was himself, he would be beautiful. But look where being himself had gotten him! He hadn’t been able to love Kabru, and now his friend was in the hospital, dying. Sure, Laios had a plan. But did Falin have a point? Could he make himself fall in love with Kabru, or was it a lost cause?

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he drove, listening to the song. At the next light, he put the song on repeat, letting it play on loop as he remembered the first time they had ever listened to it. That moment had been everything. It had been the moment he fell for Kabru.

But clearly, not fallen in love.

God, how could he say he fell for Kabru when Kabru was coughing up petals and pollen? He felt like he was in love, but clearly something was off, something was wrong. Could something be wrong with his love? Was it not deep enough, or maybe…maybe they weren’t meant for each other? Was that how it worked? Maybe you had to be soul mates.

Laios had spent hours researching Hanhaki, but unfortunately there wasn’t a whole lot of scholarly articles about it. Most of what he found were random people speculating or telling stories that truly frightened Laios. One article in a newspaper he didn’t recognize spoke of someone who lost all memories of the person they had been in love with. They had had the surgery and completely forgotten the person, didn’t even know their name.

Could he handle it if Kabru completely forgot him? Completely forgot this song? Completely forgot when they had…

Laios shook his head. He couldn’t remember that now. He needed to focus on what he was going to say to Kabru. He had to figure out what the hell to say! And what to say if Rin was there.

Rin was furious with him. She blamed Laios for Kabru’s predicament and clearly hated him for it. She had burst out in fury at him, and now refused to even look at him when they were in class, much less talk to him. She would probably try and stop him from seeing Kabru.

And maybe she would be right to. Would Kabru even want to see him? Laios hadn’t even considered that until this very moment. Maybe seeing him would make things worse. Maybe he’d die on the spot. Laios gripped the steering wheel tight. He sighed, and pulled over. This was a bad idea. He punched a new address into the GPS and headed there. He needed someone to be brutally honest with him, someone who wouldn’t sugar coat things even a little bit. Someone who wouldn’t give a shit about his feelings.

He needed Izutsumi.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Margo Margan

Published: Sep 6, 2024

-

[ Note: the following is a foreword by Ted Balaker, director of "The Coddling of the American Mind," a film adaptation of the book of the same name, from the Atlantic article of the same name, who also operates a Substack for the film. ]

Dear Coddling Movie Community,

Sometimes I wonder if maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. After all, plenty of critics say we who worry so much about “coddling” issues are fear mongers.

But there’s another option: Maybe things are even worse than they seem.

That’s the thought that kept ringing through my head while reading the latest essay from our talented Gen Z contributor Margo Margan.

It’s an extraordinary journey into a subculture that few adults over 30 are privy to.

We’re so happy to have Margo on our team, and you won’t want to miss today’s essay. Also make sure to check out Margo’s first contribution:

• How “The Coddling” Movie Helped Me: A Gen Zer’s story

We’ve been so pleased with how The Coddling Movie has been received by Margo and other Gen Zers.

As a new school year begins, we’ll be working hard to bring the film to more viewers, including more young viewers. Stay tuned.

All the best,

Ted

-

Why do you only write about gay men?

This is a question I’ve often been asked about my creative writing. And, dear reader, I’m always happy to answer questions about my work. I get it. Writing a cast like that comes with connotations: Either I’m trying to be “woke,” or I’m doing it for the romanticized appeal. 

Having met several authors of both types of work, I’d argue there isn’t much difference between them. Those in the former behaved eerily similar to the latter, and those I knew in the latter group all believed their efforts were, in fact, heroically progressive. 

My writing can look a lot like these pieces: A cast of primarily same-sex male couples, with very few female characters present. When looking back at my writing during my teen years, I notice several tropes that say a lot about how environmental pressures controlled the writing of myself and other Gen Z writers. I want to introduce you to each of these archetypes, and more importantly, what inspired them. 

Surprisingly — I used to write mostly girls. After high school, however, my writing was fundamentally changed. And the cause was feminist extremism. 

Extreme Feminist Culture

The first member of our cast I’ll call The Female Character. She’s a bland, ugly, young female protagonist. Frustrating to write, and painful to read. Though she was meant to be a reflection of me, trying to connect with her felt like stepping into shoes three sizes too small.

The Female Character and her counterparts were primarily inspired by a documentary I watched during a high school assembly about cultural norms related to gender. One segment featured children about 9 years old as interview subjects. They were asked what they would choose if they could change one thing about the world. A young boy said he’d like to add more lanes to highways to reduce traffic, and a young girl said she wanted nobody to be lonely again. 

The school (and documentary) framed this as a clear sign that girls were oppressed because they cared about more “meaningful” issues than boys. Messages like this were read into nearly everything.

We were treated like victims in almost all classes. Basic professionalism like brushing my hair was instead explained to us as being an oppressive, patriarchal standard. 

This attitude felt humiliating to me. Instead of empowering women, my teachers wanted us to be fragile. I’ve felt this in the wider society today, with every pop song, commercial, and movie telling me as a young woman that I shouldn’t be starving myself out of pressure to look like Barbie. Even Barbie has taken shots at Barbie. 

I’m not arguing that it is a problem to support women who do have these insecurities. However, these messages have been misused to mandate that all of us must feel broken. We must be traumatized — to the point of having severe eating disorders or depression — by Barbie dolls. We must be saved from the patriarchy, which can’t happen if we aren’t in need of saving in the first place. 

Saying otherwise was simply incorrect — as clearly explained by one of my feminist activist peers. While advertising a feminist event, she was hit with this exact question by a boy she was speaking to, “What if it doesn’t affect me?” 

Promptly, she spouted the alleged facts from her brochure, “Actually, it does affect you. Boys have internalized notions that they can’t cry and can’t wear make-up.” 

I was the age of the interview subjects in the documentary when I began writing. At that age, if I were asked what I’d do to change the world, I’d probably say something more useless than adding traffic lanes — “Make Invader Zim real!” I didn’t create female characters for any reason except that I happened to want to. 

But, “internalized misogyny” was supposed to be the cause of my every decision. I needed to read a deep meaning into anything related to gender. 

Thoughts began to infect my creative brain; “I must be writing a female character to express my underrepresented female experience. I must represent the life of a young female. This is the story of a female being angry, a female being in love.” Writer’s block. 

No longer could my characters just be characters, they instead became Female Characters, Female Protagonists, Female Villains. That’s how The Female Character was born. She’s supposed to “represent women as whole and complete people,” but the reality is that this framework makes her only defining attribute being a woman. 

What About Men?

Our next cast member is a trailblazer, the emergence of gay men taking the stage in my writing. Often the sidekick to the female lead, he’s shy, sensitive, often feminine enough to be mistaken for a girl, and definitively — he’s gay! I’ll call him by the name of his first iteration, Rosemary. 

Rosemary reflects how I was taught to treat men. And I had to be careful with men in my writing. My community was terrified of them. 

This is once again best illustrated by the gender documentary shown at my high school assembly. Perhaps more pernicious than how my school interpreted the girl’s statements was how they regarded the boy’s. He was scorned as privileged and ignorant, his answer (which I found innovative and bright) was used to make an example of the alleged horrors in our society, how men had it so much better than women. 

Just a reminder: We’re talking about the nine-year-old boy who said he wanted to change the world by finding a solution to highway traffic. 

My high school also showed us the infamous Gillette commercial on “toxic” masculinity, awakening us to the disgusting behavior of boys who play-wrestled as children. Yet another documentary depicted men being deeply, deeply depressed because society did not allow them to cry. These severely unhealthy men did not reflect the men I saw in reality.

Any presentation of stereotypical masculinity — real or fictional — was branded as “toxic.” This divided girls and boys, and when paired with the earlier fragility, the effects of this us vs. them thinking ripped apart social groups. 

A poignant example comes from the class Discord of the similarly cultured school where I took my gap year internship. There were two dominant friend groups: sensitive girls, and boys who liked to banter. While there was some mild tension between them, we had all learned to tolerate each other’s quirks.

Then came the boiling point. A male student made a comment to one of the girls that, while rude to say to someone outside of his friend circle, was nothing more severe than what we were all seemingly used to;

“Technically, the definition means ‘lazy dog.’ That would make you the bitch.”

The environment turned nuclear. The entire collective of girls in the chat began fervently calling out this boy. They insisted only women were allowed to use such a historically evil word. When a boy pointed out this gatekeeping was sexist, he was promptly shot down. 

I soon found myself added to a group text and Google Doc to plan a feminist community event intended to educate these allegedly sexist men. I was asked to describe my experience as a woman.

What was my experience? 

Well, the feminist lecture was never actually held, as the students were severely lacking in executive function — or as some might say, “lazy.” The boy’s line was spot-on. I never responded —because I was laughing too hard!

Perhaps this makes the both of us rude, but, “sexist?” I don’t believe so. Had he used any other insult, the scenario would have been resolved with nothing more than a few virtual eye rolls. What was framed as a matter of gender was instead a matter of personality.

If people couldn’t see my gender, they would probably think I was a “toxic male.” I don’t like being publicly vulnerable, I banter with my friends, I used to pretend to wrestle as a child, and I casually skip Barbie ads without understanding why they’re so offensive. 

On the same note, I can understand why someone might steer away from trying to befriend boys (or girls) when motivated by a pattern of personality clashes. I’m not against men’s or women’s groups existing for a purpose like that.

Yet, I have seen instances where men were blatantly ostracized. My high school’s only non-activist lunch club was an ordinary art club. This was never advertised as a girls’ meet-up or tied to a similar purpose, but the hosts quickly mentioned at the end of the club’s announcement that only female students would be allowed. There were no other options for boys to socialize. I asked the hosts why this was the case, and they informed me the decision was made to ensure female students felt safe. 

A similar sentiment was carried by one of my gap year mentors. I was in a class with only one other student, a boy. This teacher asked me after class if I was alright because I seemed quiet. She remarked how we had naturally slipped into gender roles, the man doing all of the talking. This, and her constantly correcting her usage of the term “you guys,” betrayed how set she was on believing I was a victim of male existence. 

I found this insulting to both of us. My classmate was in no way malicious or sexist, consciously or subconsciously, for being more talkative than me. Quietness was a flaw I was responsible for working on, and blaming men treated me as incapable of agency. 

Hateful comments were even made in class, including a student saying, “Why do we have to have men in the world? We don’t need men!”

Such a comment is horrible to make about any group of people and would’ve probably netted punishment if said about any other gender. Instead, our teacher responded with, “You’re right!” She backed up the student with a reference to some scientific discovery that would allow women to have children without the need for human males. 

Men were seen as dangerous to society just by existing. 

Only one type of man was accepted: A woman.

What do I mean by this? My schools would praise sensitive, fragile, non-masculine men. Men like Rosemary, who wore eyeliner, went by a girl’s name and were often seen with teardrops of make-up running down their cheeks. Gay men, in particular, were prized as heroes breaking this toxicly masculine mold. And though we were told the usual about the offensive stereotype of hyper-feminine gays, when it came down to it, breaking the patriarchy was never going to be met with anything but applause. 

Us female teen writers believed it was an act of progressive valor to draw boys in dresses. To gossip about which boys in the class were bi. To describe our characters as “super gay.” Early on, I fell into the same traps, Rosemary being one of my more prominent characters. It was blatantly obvious we were all doing it because we thought they were cute.

Then, midway through my ninth-grade year, one of Rosemary’s successors served as the protagonist of a story made in reaction to this culture. The premise? Characters were placed in a Hunger Games-style death game. Contestants were recruited based on how many minority boxes they checked off, and put through a televised series of torment to “represent their struggle.” A direct commentary on how our seemingly progressive motives were masking something more insidious. Reading it through that lens is like opening a time capsule of my social justice extremist memories. 

The line, 

“Think about it, Remus. Just try to think. You and I are both homosexual. You’re on the autism spectrum, and I’m a three-quarters cat born. That’s two labels right there, and that isn’t yet all of it. Most men don’t wear their hair like you do.”

It is perhaps one of the most cringe-worthy pieces of dialogue ever written, but even more tragically, it would have sounded completely natural if spoken aloud among my teenage friends. 

Representation was Everything

In my teenage world, diversity was one of the most important factors determining a piece’s worth. Representation was everything. 

We were taught this in class. Our teacher asked if we knew of a fictional character we could see ourselves in, and I said “yes.” 

Then, we were asked if we saw ourselves in someone of the same gender. No…

However, lacking a female character who shared my life experiences wasn’t a great tragedy. I had some really, really rare ones that were seldom represented, male or female. I saw having a character like me as a gift but never held a grudge against writers for not providing it. 

But in the minds of progressives, I couldn’t feel helped by a male character, or see a man as a role model, even if he  shared everything else in common with me. I was supposed to feel like I wasn’t allowed to exist until I saw those traits in my own gender. 

Literature was seen as responsible for creating and ending the alleged toxic gender norms. Writers were not just encouraged, but required, to change the world for the better. They would be blamed for the suffering of millions if they failed.

My peers dominated our lectures discussing the need for an abolishment of the nuclear family and other social norms. They insisted it was this lack of representation that severely broke their mental health. When others in the class said not fitting these norms wasn’t actually all that bad for them, they weren’t even allowed to finish speaking. Once again, dissent was not an option. 

And heterosexuality? Untouchable. 

Our Sex Ed courses preached to us that any romantic interaction whatsoever, from sex to holding hands, done without asking permission over and over and over was a serious breach of consent. And if our partner said yes, was not coerced by outside factors, seemed visibly enthusiastic, but still turned out to have not really meant it… We would still be responsible for a violation. 

I had my questions, humorously picturing a scenario in which a hypothetical boyfriend stopped every few seconds or so to ask, “Can I hug you?” “Can I kiss you?” “Can we keep kissing?” “Are you sure?” “Are you sure you’re sure?”

We then listened to an audio clip of questions and answers on the subject. “Wouldn’t that ruin the mood?” said a man, wanting advice on making these interactions less awkward, luckily asking my question for me. 

Then I had my answer: Men are idiots. It was a stupid question to ask. 

And the media was held responsible for causing misbehaviors. Consider a scene of a girlfriend breaking down crying, and her boyfriend immediately hugging her. It could be seen as corny. It could be seen as a sweet moment, where the girlfriend needs someone to comfort her, and instinctively knowing this, her boyfriend is right there to support her. 

It could be seen as the boyfriend not only hugging her without consent but also making physical contact with someone who is having a panic attack. Despite the fact that many humans need physical contact like this and that these scenes are likely not meant to reflect clinically serious symptoms, my classmates always were certain to err on the side of mental disorders. 

Romantic relationships were a minefield, with straight men taking the brunt of the blame. One wrong move, and you’d be in big trouble. Gay couples seemed to get a pass from this hyper-scrutiny, and I’ve never seen a woman accused of harassment. 

Many of my peers had also gotten wrapped up in the gay fanfiction sphere. This type of media is often accused of romanticizing homosexuality to appeal to straight women. It does seem like a very popular genre amongst teen girls who are outsiders or troubled in some way. Looking at it now, I can make a guess as to why the girls I knew sank so deeply into obsession with these forms of literature. 

I think, deep down, it is the case that a lot of us would’ve wanted a boyfriend (or male friends in general), but were taught to fear men so deeply we buried this desire. I didn’t speak to conservative boys in my classes despite thinking we’d get along great because subconsciously, I thought they were dangerous. With men so scorned, young, more masculine girls who would’ve wanted to connect with young, nerdy boys turned to truly toxic alternatives.

Meanwhile, homosexuality seemed prized above all else. 

There’s a scenario I need to get off my chest. Something feels off, but I can’t quite place what.  

A conservative student tried to justify “gay panic” insanity pleas, claiming he could understand why seeing a gay couple could shock some people into committing murder. He was promptly kicked out of class.

One of his critics was a liberal student who had previously stated similar beliefs. She felt those who killed out of nowhere weren’t neurotypical, making it unfair to punish them for how they were born. Despite her views seeming to blatantly endorse his, she refused to allow the conservative to finish his sentence. 

In a later class period, she said, aloud, on a recorded Zoom call, “I have thought about killing someone before, but…” 

Nothing visible was ever done about this. 

Some students questioned the decision to remove the conservative. Teachers said his views made students feel unsafe. I felt unsafe around students who confessed to contemplating murder. I can’t make claims about the exact motives as to why each call was made, or assume I know all of what happened behind the scenes. 

But I still can’t help but come away with a sense that, regardless of their reasoning, the school handled this with an inappropriate amount of bias. 

Being gay was not only specially protected, but specially praised. The effects of this attitude manifested poignantly in how my peers critiqued literature, often in quite belittling ways.

I overheard discussions of a popular show among students, The Owl House, for an entire school year. It was recommended to me quite frequently. Given the amount of exposure, one would expect me to have picked up on most of the key details about the show.

All I knew about The Owl House was that it was on Disney, and the characters were gay. I didn’t even know it was an animated series or the main character’s name. 

Online groups closely echoed what I saw in person. Members would spam all-caps cheers after finding out a music artist was bi, or draw their characters dressed head-to-toe in the colors of Pride flags. These eerily echoed the conversations from my early high school years.

But, in the years beyond my graduation, these spaces were “queer” spaces. Their population was not much different from my high school self: nerdy early-teens girls who weren’t interested in dating. Except, I identified as a straight person capable of individual wants and choices, while they considered themselves “asexual.” 

I was taught the word “queer” was a slur. And I certainly didn’t need to announce my romantic preferences (or lack thereof) in my online profile. 

While under the guise of easy-access “queer” labels, these writers not only escaped accusations of problematic material but passed it off as a work of charity. Most claims of asexuality never seemed to hold water against how obsessed the writers seemed with their original characters, who were often abused, closeted gay men. 

Journalist Eliza Mondegreen has observed a similar trend of “trans gay men” — specifically, those born female who transitioned after reading large amounts of this type of fanfiction. I’m not the only one seeing this, and I feel obliged to expand upon what it’s like living in the weeds of this culture.

I can’t help but wonder if a girl who loudly proclaims “I’m asexual!” is really trying to say “I’m better than that!” Though she likely isn’t aware of it, deep down, she’s thinking she would never stoop to such a thing as liking a boy… With heterosexuality so scorned, stigmatized, and dangerous, wanting a boyfriend, or even having a male crush, seemed like a death sentence.

Or in some cases, perhaps teens are transitioning because, subconsciously, they need a gay relationship. Because a straight boy isn’t good enough. He isn’t interesting enough. He isn’t diverse enough. He isn’t safe enough.

Though I hate to bring up online interactions as an example, online culture seems to be regularly bleeding out into reality. Like a miasma, those twisted by the Internet start flooding into places like women’s groups or gay-straight alliances, drowning out the normal and putting unstable teens in the driver’s seat. 

It was these teens who filled in the Rainbow Club at my gap year internship, seating my hypothetical audience. When it came to casting characters in my stories, I needed to fall in line with their trends, even if I desperately wanted to avoid them. If I ever did take the risk to share my work, lives were at stake, and objecting wasn’t an option. 

I still couldn’t write a “female perspective.” Trans or non-binary characters were too easy to mess up. Straight characters meant straight into cancelation. The safest choice was obvious. 

The Tipping Point

The nail in the coffin was when I saw firsthand what a woke critic looked like.

I submitted a novella to a writing mentor. One chapter was a fight scene. The story featured a female character who was weaker and didn’t fight much. She was my only female character, but also a side character, and therefore flat and underdeveloped.

It would have been a legitimate critique to say we needed to see more of what she provided to the team, or that she was boring. 

Instead, I was sent a section of critique notes titled “Women Writing Women.” We spoke face-to-face about how it was vitally important I handle women differently than male writers do. How this happened because I only had misogynistic male authors as references. How I didn’t put my male characters into stereotypes, so her gender was clearly the reason I messed her up. 

The reality: It was midnight when I wrote the scene and I forgot I had equipped her with a weapon. Regular old bad writing.

If anything, the pressure to write women so perfectly is what caused her character to become so flat in the first place. 

If she were a man, what would my teacher have said?

I spitefully continued making Male Characters. Male Protagonists. Male Villains. No female main characters, no wives, not even mothers. I wanted to prove a point. 

Removing women from my work meant I could finally have it critiqued on its merits. I could share the messages I wanted to share, without my readers becoming distracted by analyzing it for feminist lessons. 

Gay characters have come with their own conundrums. I’ve had readers praise my work because it’s “gay,” and I’ve had readers put it down because it’s “gay.” I don’t really feel like there’s a point in calling a piece of writing “too gay,” or “too straight,” for that matter. I’d be lying if I said this didn’t hurt after a while. 

But that’s the case with critique on anything, not just homosexuality, or gender, or representation. Every writer worth their salt needs to come into the field equipped to deal with critics. If I want to resist an environment that insists I am fragile, I can’t let overtly trollish comments from online strangers get to me. I’m not a helpless victim. I might feel annoyed or upset when I read them, but then, I just close the tab and move on.

Plus, my writing is not really as bad as I can make it out to be; I have written several female characters in major roles since breaking out of the social justice extreme mindset. At times I exaggerate the gender numbers because, at some point, even I have to admit it’s a little funny. 

Writer’s block lost. The real reason for my characters ending up as they are is that the residue of old habits just happens to be sticking around. I used to shred pieces I’ve written that could be deemed offensive, but now, I’ve changed strategies to revising and improving upon the tales I loved writing the most. Cutting perfectly good characters, or changing their demographics just to push for a different message, would only reinforce the patterns that created the problem in the first place. 

We cannot counter censorship with censorship. For all of the issues discussed, it was never gay characters causing them. Rather, it was the excessive self-censorship authors were pushed into that caused their work to center on gay characters as a side effect. 

So, why do I only write about gay men? I hope I’ve given a sufficient answer. 

Since we’re here, though, I have a question for you:

Why does it matter?

What’s truly valuable in a story is a well-written, well-developed hero with a compelling personality. Perhaps someone who resisted heartbreaking tokenism to develop their own path, with the strength to avoid living in prolonged resentment.

Someone like the straight female author you’ve been reading about, or the gay male protagonist of her novella IVY.

==

Now you understand how we get complete girlboss effluent like The Acolyte, The Marvels, Rings of Power and their ilk.

Write your characters and your stories without apology. When fanatics come after you, ignore them or laugh at them and tell them to fuck off. Because they've learned to frame "I don't like X" as "X is wrong and problematic." But it's still just "I don't like X."

For every blue-hair banshee who comes after you, there are ten people who like your writing -- or at least don't give a shit. The banshees are just loud and obnoxious, but they're an absolute minority and always were.

[javiscigarette]

i read Teacher's Pet and i loved it!!! i adore the way they are with each other!!! you are so talented and i am in awe of what your writing does to me. i mean ofc it's hotter than hell and has us all giggling and wanting more. you're that good! it's also encouraging, and soothing. healing. your joel is so open and comforting. the way it's easy to be naked, emotionally and physically, in front of him, and the way he encourages reader, put her at ease, makes her laugh, is bringing a lot of comfort to me. i hope you know your fic is helping a lot of us feel proud of our body and the way we are, accepting even, little by little, and that is priceless to me. so, thank you for your beautiful words and for the feelings that will surely find home in my brain and remind me that i am good the way i am on days when i feel like i am lacking in everything and every single insecurity takes over. i'm sending you all the forehead kisses and boundless creative inspiration and all the time in the world to do what you love✨️🥹

ok so the sentimental part is over can we now talk about my favourite parts?

And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

i was like YES BITCH!! I'M IN FULL SUPPORT!! SAY IT BB

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

I LOVE HIM AND I'LL SCREAM ABOUT IT

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

your writing!! it sure does make me melt

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek.

the number of times i reread this—

i would put more but i feel like this ask is getting too long and i don't wanna bother you and make you read a novel but their banter, every single instance of it is also my favourite

him being so soft and gentle with her while absolutely destroying ME is also my favourite

also, i hope you know we're putting you in JAIL for putting us in reader's shoes and letting us attend joel miller's sex class

excuse me while I FUCKING SOB OH MY GODDD!!!!!

not even exaggerating this is one the nicest things anyone has ever said to me in my entire life what the helll 😭😭😭😭

(had to add a cut bc I rambled a bit )

One of my main goals as a writer (aside from making everyone horny) is to create stories that readers can make genuine connections to and find pieces of themselves in. Hearing the impact that my silly little story has had on you, how my words have provided you with comfort, encouragement, and a positive reflection on self-acceptance is truly mind-blowing and so incredibly fulfilling. 🥹🥹😭

Thank you so much for taking the time to share your feelings and sentiments and your favorite parts of the story. You are truly such an angel. This seriously made my day (maybe my whole entire life??) and just like my stories for you, this message will stick with me to remember whenever I feel inadequate as a writer. It’s messages like these keep writers going. 🩷🩷🩷

Sending you so much love and I’ll see you at the next session of Mr. Miller's class 😉🩷

[mochiwrites]

Hi! Genuine question you do not need to answer, but I am asking you cause I admire your writing and am impressed with how often you do it.

HOW do you find the time to write? I started college recently and feel like there's never time to write personal drafts. The few times I do find myself free I am so fed up with writing (Journalism major, woooo) that I just... don't.

Any tips? I really want to write more I just don't know where the energy to would come from :(

hello!!!

first off ough. that’s Rough :(

this probably won’t help much I’m afraid, but I never have to find the time really? realistically as a junior in college And an english major And working a job on campus I really shouldn’t have the time FBFNFBFBF

I’ve gotten very lucky with my schedule, both work and school. I don’t get assigned too much homework?¿? I have at least 5 weekly assignments for each class I’m taking (taking 5 classes but one of them is only half a semester long so after this month I’ll be down to 4 classes), though I only get weekly work from 3 of those 5.

I guess the biggest component is time management, but that’s kind of hard to sort out when you have a busy schedule and are overwhelmed with work :( I’ve gotten really lucky where I’m able to have free evenings because I do some of my school work on campus or on the weekends.

my biggest piece of advice I think is don’t put so much pressure on yourself to write! since you’re already writing all the time because of your journalism major, I’d say maybe try writing small drabbles on your phone’s note app. doing it there instead of say google docs or microsoft word might help make it seem less intimidating, and it may be a possible way to keep yourself from struggling to find the energy too. it’s kind of like tricking your brain

that and maybe try just brain storming stuff! little things you want to write or flesh out, plot bunnies and all that stuff. it keeps your creative brain turning.

I know for me, a part of what helps keep me motivated and actively writing or trying to find time for it is the excitement of an idea, the passion for it. that’s my own personal biggest motivator; the excitement

[cluelessbees]

Okay….

A concept— Dash and Lily Byler AU (I posted a part 2-ish)

Idk if you guys have watched dash and lily but it’s a very cute season-long like cheesy Christmas romance. The whole premise is that Lily puts this book in a bookstore that Dash finds and they essentially communicate through the notebook. They don’t know each others identities but they have to do a dare in order for the other to answer their question.

Im like not explaining it well but it’s very cute 😭. So like I was wondering ….byler au 👀?

So now enjoy my take on their notebook entries to each other—

(For context this one is Will’s to Mike after Mike proposed being called Blue + Mike’s entry afterwards)

Idk if it’s any good but enjoy—

***

Blue huh? 

You really aren’t giving me any clues to your name? I guess you do really like the mystery aspect of this all.

I guess I’ll continue in the theme of colours. Call me yellow. Or…think of me as yellow. I don’t think yellow works as well as a name compare to Blue, but it’s my favourite colour.

It just feels warm….which feels sorta weird to say. How can a colour feel warm? 

I don’t know. It just- reminds me of sun and how it would tickle my skin when I would lay on the grass in the park with my family. It’s just one of those warm memories. Something I think about when I want to escape.

That’s- a really weird thing to admit to a boy I’ve never met. But it’s just easier to tell you these things I guess? You’re easy to talk to- or write to.

I’m sorry if I’m being weird. I hope I’m not scaring you away.

Because ….i like talking to you blue. I hope you like talking to me.

Anyways, enough about me. It’s time for your dare. 

You’ve mentioned never really being an artist, huh? I’m not buying it. I think you like being creative. You just hate showing it.

I’ve attached a drawing of a map to this art centre. Go to it. I’ve booked you for a 4pm painting lesson. Let me know what you draw.

Don’t focus on perfection just have fun, okay? 

Give the book to the instructor, tall guy with a weird mustache you’ll know what I mean when you see it.

From, 

Yellow (?) (i have no idea of yellow is working or not)

***

Dear Yellow,

I’ll have to admit- it doesn’t work as well as Blue, but that’s okay. I think I’ll continue calling you notebook boy. I like the mystery element behind it. You’re very mysterious to me. I cant help wanting to know more about you.

You do remind me of yellow though- the warmth that is. I don’t know how else to describe it you just seem like such a warm person. Which- is weird to admit because I don’t even know you but it’s true.

Also, you don’t have to worry about scaring me off. I’m far too intrigued in knowing who you are to be scared off by anything. 

And….I happen to like you too, Notebook Boy

(See notebook boy just works better)

Anyways, a finger painting class huh? Have to admit I did not expect that. You’re always filled with surprises.

At first I thought you were just being sadistic. Like- you wanted me to stain my hands as some sort of punishment for a previous dare. But- I have to admit it was fun getting messy.

And I managed to get a sweet finger painted rainbow out of it. I’m sure I can’t compete with the art you make. You’re probably the most talented artist I know (I’m aware I haven’t seen your art yet but I’m still right.) But I like it- I think. It’s a decent painting.

Scratch that my friend just asked me if it was made by my little sister— okay so maybe not decent, but I had fun. Maybe…I do like creativity. Although no one will know but you.

I hope I get to see your paintings someday.

For now, i leave you with a dare and a question. 

What’s your taste of music like, Notebook Boy?

Mine is a mixed of genres, but I thought it would be fun for you to try something new. You seem very reserved so…I’ve attached a ticket to a friends rock show. It’s for tomorrow at 9. He makes good music. I’ve always like the atmosphere of his gigs. They’re so loud and the energy just seeps through the veins. 

I hope you like it. 

Blue 

P.S. hand the book over to my friend at the end of the show! He’s the guitarist. Tell him Blue sent you. 

***

I have more if y'all want but yeah--- thoughts? (Part 2)

[ladylooch]

Can we get protective Luca with Liv? 💚

Liv scratches roughly at her eyes in the Powell Library. She had been working on her story for her creative writing class all day, but nothing good is sticking for her. She’s started and scrapped five ideas and three characters already. Her story is due in two days and she is feeling stressed about getting it finished.

She’s been stressed since school started, really. Her and Luca have been busy acclimating to L.A. after his trade at the deadline last year. She finished out school at Columbia, then they headed to Switzerland for the summer, and now they are in California, living a completely different life while learning how to live together for the first time. There have been some bumps in the road. 

Oh, and Luca is nursing a minor injury from training camp that seems to be sticking around into the second week. How could she forget that?

Liv’s phone buzzes on the table next to her empty Starbucks cup. It’s her boyfriend, who was sleeping when she left this morning. 

Any chance you’ll be home soon?

Unfortunately, no 😫

Okay. It’s getting dark. Call me when you’re getting ready to leave. 

I will. 

Liv continues to work, adjusting her headphones back into her ears and focusing in on her creative stye. She’s trying to force the characters into specific tropes that aren’t coming together how she wants. Maybe she needs the story to open broken and disheveled, then put it all back together again. She nods, sensing she is finally moving in the right direction.

Liv gets lost in her world and her characters, weaving them delicately through the story line and setting up the perfect plot twist at the end. When she pushes back from her computer, she smiles in satisfaction. Now, she needs to edit and submit. Woo! She grins, closing her laptop triumphantly. She glances around the library, seeing only one other person at a table across the way. She turns her wrist to glance at her watch, realizing the library is coming in ten minutes. Quickly, she gathers her things.

She shoulders her backpack on, then heads towards the door. She hops down the marble steps, pausing in the middle when she sees Luca Fiala hobbling towards the library. 

“Babe!” Liv says, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I saw it was getting close to library close and figured you would forget to text me because you were in a rush.” 

“Yeah, I’m bad at that.”

“You are.” He confirms, then hands her over a brown paper bag. “Got you a sandwich. Figure you also haven’t eaten.” No, she hasn’t. She takes it from him, then wraps her arms around his waist. 

“I love you so much. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I love you too. Now, can you be my crutch back to the car?”

“Of course.” She keeps her arm around his waist as he puts one on her shoulders. Liv folds their fingers together agains the strap of her backpack. He leans into her every step, letting her shoulder his weight enough to relieve his injured leg. “You’re so good at taking care of me. Even when you’re hurt.”

“This is nothing. I’ll be better soon.”

“Let me drive us home. You shouldn’t be driving with your ankle.”

“No, you need to eat.” Luca pulls her closer, kissing her temple. 

The whole way back to the car, the two argue about who is going to drive home. They eventually compromise. Liv drives and Luca feeds her bites of her sandwich. 

It feels comfortable to be taking care of each other despite the stress of their new life.

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Toady FAQ!

Hey y’all! I get a lot of the same questions (both on Tiktok and here in the bog), so I thought I’d answer a bunch of em at once! As always, if you have questions not listed here, I’m happy to chat :)

Are you going to upload/continue the 90s series? (Alternatively: Upload the 90s series. You should upload it to Tumblr. Continue the 90s series.)

With all the love in the world, no. At least not for the moment—ask me again in 6 months!

Writing that series ended up being super stressful, and I’m not super eager to get back in there at the moment. I’m worried I’d continue to carry that stress and that I’d grow to resent the story, which is not at all what I want! I also don’t want to be 8 chapters into a new piece of writing and still have people asking about the 90s series, which I hope is understandable.

By all means, save the posts from Tiktok so you can revisit them. Just please don’t post them anywhere :)

Do you have Spotify? Can you make a playlist of all the songs you used in your Tiktoks?

I’ve thought about this question a lot, and basically: you tell me.

I have a Spotify account, but haven’t shared it for privacy reasons. However, if enough people wanted it, I could be persuaded to change my username and share my playlists :)

I do think it’s fun to have music to go along with a story, and it’s actually the one thing I miss about Tiktok. So the other option would be to maybe post chapters as audio posts with the text underneath, if I can figure out how to do that?

Basically: you tell me what you think, and I’ll do it!

Will your next story feature XYZ?

It depends on your request (and, honestly, the tone in which you ask it). I’m more than happy to consider requests and suggestions, but I have two stipulations:

1. There are certain perspectives and lived experiences from which I simply cannot write accurately; if you’re asking me to write about the experiences of a marginalized group, consider that I might not be the person to portray them. On top of being in a privileged position myself, I’m also just not an experienced enough writer to properly research and depict experiences so inherently different from my own. I can definitely try my best to recommend other writers, but know that, in all things, my knowledge is limited to my own exposure and experience.

2. I cannot possibly make everyone happy. If I took every request I received, I’d end up with a disaster of a story that I wouldn’t even feel like I’d written. I need to retain some creative freedom in order for this to feel worth doing, so while I welcome suggestions please don’t be offended if I don’t take every one I see!

Any advice for people who want to major in English? What are you doing with your degree?

Yes!

Find your niche. Mine was American lit, specifically the weird stuff. The weirder the better—American Gothic, true crime journalism, 19th-century Spiritualism—you name it, I’ve written about it. If you can find a subgenre of literature that you LOVE, nothing you read or write will feel like work.

Don’t edit, rewrite! Print your draft and go over it in red pen, then re-type it with your corrections. I swear by this!

Don’t limit yourself, ever! Take classes on fantasy, sci-fi, children’s lit, climate crisis fiction, religious texts, whatever you can find. You will be better for it!

Everyone is wrong. There’s a TON you can do with an English degree. I worked in finance straight out of college—I knew nothing about business, but my degree taught me to communicate effectively and synthesize information from different sources. You have valuable skills, you just need to learn to market them! Now I’m working in my field and it’s great, but it was never the only option.

DO A STORY ABOUT X IN Y TIME PERIOD SET IN THIS SPECIFIC TOWN!

Beloved, stop yelling at me.

Can I use this as a writing prompt/write my own story/create fanart using these characters?

YES! Knock yourself out, I only ask that you tag me in the final product so I can see your lovely work and hype you up :)

Do you have book/movie/show recs that are similar to your work?

That depends! Send me a specific request (ie: MMCs with similar vibes to Jasper Stevens) and I’ll try my best to recommend you something. If I can’t think of anything, we’ll crowdsource!