#they write for us for free and they deserve some feedback on how we feel

[harrywavycurly]

I am begging y’all to hit reblog on fics you like. Leave a comment if you’re comfortable. Tell the author how you feel about it in the tags, in their inbox, or anything because too many authors are leaving because they don’t feel appreciated.

[saltpepperbeard]

Be a Lighthouse - Fight For OFMD Season 3

Hi everyone. The news of our cancellation is both incredibly devastating, and quite shocking considering the trajectory of the show and its fanbase. Everything looked like it was lining up in a positive fashion...only for the rug to get yanked out from under us.

I cried. I went numb. I stared at the wall for a while.

But then, something sparked. Like Ed who was resolved to his fate in S1Ep4 only to rocket back upwards, I was struck with a realization: we need to be a lighthouse!

Fanbases have campaigned before, and have gotten results. Sense8 was able to get a two hour finale to properly wrap everything up. Lucifer was able to get picked up by Netflix after being cancelled by Fox. Brooklyn 99 was able to get picked up by NBC after being cancelled by Fox. And many more examples.

Be it a proper renewal, a finale wrap that entails Ed and Stede's wedding, or the attention from another network, I say we fight that good fight. So, here are some ways we can be heard; if you think of any additional points, please feel free to add them!

If you don't cancel your Max Subscription, continue watching the show and leaving feedback on Max's online feedback form. I had a kneejerk reaction when cancellation was announced and pulled the plug...only to sit back and reconsider. I want them to still get my metrics. I want them to still see the show means something to me. And whether that's through words or statistics, I feel like that's something.

2. Follow @renewasacrew and keep up with their resources/campaigns. They're very active and passionate, and have already come up with different ways to fight for our show.

3. Sign the petition to give us just that little bit more of a chance to have our voices heard.

4. Stay active on social media, and stay positive. Continue sharing how much this show means to us. Continue creating. Continue loving. Use hashtags like-

#RenewAsACrew

#SaveOFMD

#RenewOFMD

#BeALighthouse

#OFMDSeason3

or anything equivalent on any and all OFMD-related posts. Keep the buzz about it going on social media. Comment on posts, keep spreading the word, and get the light burning.

5. Renewasacrew has given us another outlet; an official HBO email address. Write an email detailing your personal experience with this show, and how significant a third season would be.

6. Tweet/email other platforms to pique their interest. Be it Amazon Prime, Hulu, Netflix, or whoever else, let's see if we can't catch someone else's attention. A romcom with iconic LGBT representation seems pretty enticing if you ask me!

This show means the world to me. Y'all mean the world to me. So let's show them why. Let's show them why, and get the proper ending we, the cast and crew, and the characters all deserve.

[nenelonomh]

how to identify what's keeping you stuck

feeling stuck can be frustrating, but understanding the underlying factors can help you break free. this post focuses on helping you identify what may be keeping you stuck and provides actions to help you get unstuck again.

limiting beliefs

unconscious beliefs often hold us back. these are deeply ingrained thoughts or assumptions that hinder our progress and self-confidence. here are some key points: 1. origins: limiting beliefs often stem from childhood experiences, societal norms, or past failures. they shape our perception of what’s possible. 2. confirmation bias:  we seek evidence that supports our beliefs. if you think you’re not good enough, you’ll notice instances that confirm this, ignoring evidence to the contrary. 3. self-fulfilling prophecy: beliefs influence behaviour. if you believe you’ll fail, you might not even try, ensuring failure. 4. cognitive distortions: these are irrational thought patterns. examples include black-and-white thinking, catastrophizing, and overgeneralization. overcoming limiting beliefs is essential for personal growth and achieving your goals. the key is to become aware of and challenge these beliefs. pay attention to negative self-talk or thoughts that hold you back. write them down to gain clarity. question the validity of these beliefs. are they based on evidence or assumptions? challenge them with rational thinking.

replace limiting beliefs with empowering ones. for example, if you believe “i’m not good enough,” replace it with “i am capable and deserving.” gather evidence that contradicts your limiting beliefs. celebrate past achievements and positive feedback.

use positive affirmations daily. imagine yourself succeeding despite obstacles. visualization can rewire your brain and boost confidence. take small steps toward your goals. each success reinforces positive beliefs.

physical and emotional signals

physical signals that indicate feeling stuck include tension, fatigue, headaches, digestive issues, and insomnia. stress and feeling stuck often manifests as physical tension. feeling constantly drained or tired can be a sign that something is amiss. frequent headaches or migraines may be related to emotional stress. additionally, stress can affect digestion, leading to stomachaches, bloating or discomfort. difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep may also indicate underlying stress or unresolved issues.

emotional signs include persistent worry, feeling unmotivated, frustration, a belief that things won't improve, feeling paralyzed by choices or unable to make decisions, or a lack of joy and enthusiasm.

paying attention to these signals can guide you towards understanding what's keeping you stuck.

to manage emotional and physical signals, participate in relaxation techniques, such as meditation, progressive muscle relaxation, deep breathing, or yoga.

repetitive patterns

take note of recurring thoughts, behaviours, or situations. are there patterns that keep you in the same place? identifying these can lead to breakthroughs, as well as personal growth and positive change. 1. types of repetitive patterns the three types of repetitive patterns can be categorized into behavioural, thoughts, and situational. behavioural patterns involve actions you repeat, even if they don’t serve you. for example, procrastination, overeating, or staying in toxic relationships. thought patterns, such as self-criticism or catastrophizing, can keep you stuck. additionally, certain situations trigger familiar responses. for instance, feeling anxious in social gatherings. 2. identify why you repeat patterns here are some common reasons why people choose to repeat patterns, even when the actions are not beneficial: familiarity, unconscious beliefs, and neuroplasticity. familiarity feels safe, even if it's not beneficial. this causes us to continue negative patterns - since we respond abrasively to change. deep-seated beliefs drive behaviour. if you believe you’re unworthy, you’ll repeat self-sabotaging actions.

neuroplasticity is the brain's capacity to continue growing and evolving in response to life experiences. plasticity is the capacity to be shaped, moulded, or altered. our brains wire pathways based on repetition. breaking these patterns requires hardwiring.

3. steps to break repetitive patterns

awareness: notice when patterns emerge. journaling helps.

understand triggers: identify what sets off the pattern. is it stress, boredom, or fear?

challenge beliefs: question why you engage in the behaviour. what belief drives it?

replace with new actions: introduce healthier alternatives. for example, replace procrastination with focused work.

seek support: therapy or coaching can provide insights and tools.

seek professional support

seeking professional help is a valuable step when dealing with personal challenges. professionals, such as therapists, counsellors, or coaches, have specialized knowledge. they can offer insights and strategies tailored to your situation. professionals provide an unbiased viewpoint. they don’t have personal attachments or emotional involvement, allowing them to see patterns and solutions objectively.

therapy sessions can create a safe environment to explore feelings, fears, and vulnerabilities. you can express yourself freely without judgment.

regular sessions will keep you accountable for your progress. having someone to check in with motivates consistent effort. feeling understood and validated is crucial. professionals offer empathy and validate your experiences.

remember - seeking professional support will never be a sign of weakness. you are simply investing in your well-being!

further reading Coping Skills for Stress and Uncomfortable Emotions| Very Well Mind The Yuckness of Stuckness | Psychology Today What's Keeping You Stuck? | My Think Big Life

end notes thank you for reading! i hope you found this post helpful. ❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

[sunflowerchester]

As someone who stopped watching Supernatural because I couldn’t stomach the way Sam was treated by the show and loud portions of the fanbase, it’s been really lovely to listen to your podcast. It’s been so nice to listen to others who really understand him and the story, it reminds me of how much I love Sam and the early seasons. Thanks so much for doing this!

I cannot begin to tell you how much this message, and honestly all other messages/comments, have meant to us. We love Supernatural and Sam so much and this podcast is genuinely a love letter to Sam, to Jared's hard work, but especially to fans like us who needed a space where Sam was discussed and appreciated in the ways we know he deserves!

Tomorrow we're recording the final episode of S1 but I'm already so excited to continue to S2. We have a lot of little goodies planned for our listeners to go along with the next season, which we'll probably start recording in the fall.

We're trying to put some Patreon tiers together that will provide early releases, extra content, listener write-in discussions, a Sam-fan-centric community, and much more! For now the Retrospective email is posted on our IG: samgirlretrospectivepod@gmail.com. If you have feedback, questions, or just thoughts on current pod episodes, feel free to reach out. Just put in the subject line what you're reaching out about. We may use them on later email bonus write-in episodes or possibly even at the beginning of some S1 episodes yet to be posted!

As long as you guys want to hear our takes, we'll be giving them. God knows there is an endless amount of content to work through with Supernatural! We cannot thank you and anyone who listens enough for letting us share the podcast with you!

Love,

-Audree, @peanutbutterandbananasandwichs, @agelade, @geekinthejeep, & @themegalosaurus 💕

[ya9amicide]

Redamancy [BTS]

chapter one

♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Hybrids were accepted in society to a certain degree. To some, they are for entertainment. Used as sex and money tools. To lock up and abuse whenever and however they please. Something to have control over. To others, they are companions. Just like regular animals are used for therapy or simply companionship, hybrids are too.

To the rest, they are just like everyone else. Someone with their own life who deserves the same freedoms as your everyday John or Jane Doe. Wren is one of these people. She hates the idea of owning a hybrid. She has nothing against those who own them for medical or companionship reasons. Just the rest.

But, when a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.

pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc

warnings: none

Most hybrids come from Asian countries because of the ethereal beauty they possess. For most, that is the only asset that keeps them alive. The way most of these hybrids end up in other countries is if they are sold to someone and brought there. Now, the entire world has hybrids mixed into its population.

Being a writer, I always get asked why I haven't written anything about hybrids. For a fantasy writer, it's like the jackpot of writing material considering they actually exist and all the information I would need is right at my fingertips if I want it to be.

It's just something that never sat right with me. I don't know everything and the only way to know everything is to speak to one myself. I don't own a hybrid. I won't own a hybrid. I have nothing against people who own them as long as they are treating them with care. But, I just don't feel comfortable interrogating someone for the purpose of a story.

Hybrids have very unique, very personal aspects to their lives that other people don't have. It would be like asking the deepest most personal questions about someone's life. It's unfathomably uncomfortable.

Luckily, I can escape the demands for hybrid content when I'm teaching. Teaching Greek mythology to college students has its perks in that regard. Which, leads me to where I am now, wrapping up my lecture for the day.

"Alright everyone, don't forget your homework for the weekend." Some students groan at the back of the room. I stand from behind my desk, walking around to the front where I lean against it with my hip. "Yes, yes, I know. Just be thankful you get a whole weekend for it, your other professors probably wouldn't be so nice. Now, any questions?"

Two hands raise in the air and I call on the first one to come up. "How many sources did we need to cite again?"

"At least three," I say. "You can use more if you'd like, I have no issue with that. However, I hope I don't need to remind you which types of websites aren't credible sources?"

Everyone shakes their heads and I nod, calling on the next person. "Will there be any time to come in to ask questions about our papers before Monday?"

"To come in, no. Unfortunately not. However, if you'd like you can email me with any questions you have or just send me a draft and I can read it for you and give you feedback that way. I will try to get back to you asap if I can. Just please do not email me Monday morning or late Sunday night as I will be asleep and it will be too late for you."

When I finish speaking everyone shuffles in their seats. "Any more questions?" When nobody else speaks up, I lean upright from my position in front of my desk. "If that's all then you are all free to go. Have a good weekend." I receive goodbyes from almost every student as they leave. Once the last one does, I shuffle all of my belongings together and leave the room, locking the door.

On my way home, it starts to rain. It's been in the forecast all week but it was only supposed to be a slight drizzle. This, however, is a torrential downpour. Pulling into my driveway and parking, I brace myself to make a run for it. There's no way I won't get drenched.

Walking inside, I toe off my shoes and drop my things by the door before going upstairs to change into warm and comfy clothes for the evening. Walking into the kitchen for food, I pass the large, sliding glass doors that lead to my backyard and the woods behind my house.

Cereal for dinner sounds good. With a bowl of dry cereal in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, I make my way to the living room. On the way, I pass by the glass door again. Lighting strikes, lighting up the yard and the woods in the distance. In the treeline, I almost swear I can see an animal. It's not super big, but it's not small either. Surprisingly, even with the woods bordering my house, not many animals make their way out. so, seeing one now is slightly odd.

I set my food down on the coffee table and move back to the kitchen, making a plate of food for...whatever is out there. If it's in the woods in a storm like this, it must be hungry. Sliding open the glass door, I set the plate down on the porch under the awning and move back inside where I sit on the couch with my own food and the tv playing in front of me.

I'm around two episodes into the show I was watching when I hear footsteps on the back porch. They're small but loud enough for me to hear through the rain which has settled down into a soft drizzle. Standing, I make my way to the door, trying to keep my steps light and my posture open so whatever is out there doesn't feel threatened by me.

When I'm close enough to see what it is, I find a German Shepherd right before it shifts and a man is left in its place. My hand reaches out for the door handle when he sees me. His eyes widen and he scrambles to pocket all of the food and make a run for the woods.

I quickly open the door trying to stop him. "Wait, please! You don't have to go." He freezes in his steps, halfway off the porch. "I- I can give you more food if that isn't enough. And some water too if you want?" He's thin and pale and shaking like a leaf where he stands. "Please?" My voice is soft, I'm afraid if I speak too loud he'll run away. "I just want to help."

It feels like we stare at each other for hours before he nods his head, barely enough for me to see but it's still a nod. "Okay, okay that's good," I say and lead him inside. "Let me get you a towel so you can dry off, you must be cold." I don't wait for him to respond before I rush off to get it. When I come back, he's in the same spot I left him.

"Here," I hand him the towel and watch as he wraps it around himself. Slowly, his shivering starts to calm down. "Do you have any preferences?"

He looks at me strangely, head tilting to the side. The ears on the top of his head flop to the side softly, the fur wet. "To eat? Is there anything in particular you want? Anything I should avoid?" He seems to take a minute to process what I asked him before he slowly shakes his head. "Okay. You can um...you can come wait in the kitchen while I get you something if you want."

He timidly walks in behind me and watches everything I do. I decided on soup. Hopefully, the warmth from the food would make him feel better. "Is it just you?" I ask timidly.

"No," he says softly after some hesitation.

"Are- are they close? Whoever you're with?"

"Yes."

I pause what I'm doing. Maybe I should make more soup..."How many of you are there?" How much food am I going to need to make?

He shifts uncomfortably. "Seven. Including me."

"Do they want to come in? You can invite them if you want." I avoid looking at him, continuing to make more food.

"What?" He sounds surprised and wary.

"Only if you want. I mean," I stop and chuckle slightly, "seven versus one? If I were to try anything, which I won't, I think you all have the advantage. Don't you think?"

He waited for a few minutes, probably trying to see if I was pulling his leg. "Okay." He slowly makes his way to the sliding door, I can feel his eyes on me, keeping me in his sight. Leaving the door open, he shifts back into a German Shepherd and lets out a loud howl towards the forest. Anything else beyond that, I don't hear because of the volume of the storm raging outside. It was around 15 minutes before he came back inside, several pairs of footsteps shuffling in behind him.

I freeze, gently putting down what was in my hands before slowly turning to face the group of hybrids in my home.

[raeofsunrise]

this is me trying ☆ finnick odair x gn. reader

summary: finnick odair was something you trusted. and there were only two things you trusted. him, and the ocean. but finnick wasn’t like the ocean. he wouldn’t come back after pulling away.

warnings: ANGST, i really dk how i feel about this, reader has self doubt issues, flashbacks, fear of being led on, no comfort, victor finnick, finnick going to the capitol, no use of y/n, anything else that might count as a warning

646 words

~ ・ ☆ ~ ・

he was a fire. a fire that could keep your heart warm. and at first you thought that this could last. of course you were skeptical, he was known as this total womanizer, someone who would lure you in then leave you picking up the pieces of your heart. but you trusted him. he assured you so many times that what you saw on tv wasn’t who he was. and you believed him. whether it was for your own reassurance or his was up to debate.

walking with him made you feel like you did something so amazing in your last lifetime to deserve this. to deserve this person next to you, who swore he loved you so dearly.

—————

you two didn’t really have a backstory. of course, you knew of him. who in their right minds didn’t know who finnick odair was? you just thought he didn’t know who you were. but those lingering stares at the market, or whenever he came up to talk to you at your stall selling this week’s catch, there was always some sort of underlying tone. no malice, or anything like that. just something that your brain couldn’t pinpoint. but your heart certainly could.

“good morning, finnick. what can i do you for today?” you asked. it was like this every morning.

he would say something flirty, like “let’s see…what time are you free for dinner?”

and you would laugh, because he obviously didn’t mean it. and he’d laugh, a laugh that you could recognize anywhere, even if he became a stranger, because you were so in your head that he could see right through you, see everything you were thinking.

until one day, you responded with “eight o’clock?”

and he showed up at your house exactly at eight, flowers in hand and that haunting smile.

—————

you let him in, and he knew he won. maybe it was your fault. you’d been so self-destructive and selfish that you scared him off. you were so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

—————

there was a knock on your door. unusual for this time of night, but you welcomed it. you opened the door, and standing there was finnick.

“finnick? i thought you were in the capitol tonight?” you asked, confused. he left last night, telling you he’d be gone for a couple days. you didn’t mind. you understood that there were, for lack of a better word, duties that came with being victor.

he looked distressed. something you don’t see on his face very often. this combined with his early arrival back to district four made you nervous.

“is something wrong? do you need to come in?”

he gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “yeah.”

his attitude was off, too. something in you told you that this wasn’t going to end well.

you led him to your couch, where you both sat down.

you started talking, but he cut you off.

“look, i’m gonna make this quick. i don’t think we can be together.”

—————

the conversation didn’t go very far after that. till this day, you pondered what you did wrong. he wouldn’t tell you. and after he ended his relationship with you, he moved onto the next person, and the person after that.

you could tell there was something that he wasn’t telling you. you assumed it was something about yourself, the reason why he isn’t sitting next to you on the sand right now. maybe you’d never find out. the one thing you could do was let go.

and maybe, just maybe, you could find peace.

—————

hii! im back from my disappearance. this is my first time writing angst so please leave feedback!! it’s greatly appreciated. thank you so much for being so kind and understanding and patient. also could you tell i wrote this to this is me trying by taylor swift?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Gold Rush (Superstar Chapter 3)

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Roy and the Reader attend Rebecca’s charity ball... and uneasy feelings arise.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.7k words

Warnings: Language, Keeley making ~flirty~ suggestions, and a healthy sharp turn from fluff to angst

Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback on this series- I don’t deserve it! And big thanks to those who suggested a little bit of jealousy. Some of this was almost painful to write, so I’m excited to share my torture with you!

~

“Oi, did you get a dress for Friday yet?” Keeley plopped herself on my desk, not bothering with formal greetings. She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Friday…?” I closed my laptop, knowing I wouldn’t get anything done with Keeley in my office.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Rebecca’s charity ball! You’re going, aren’t you?”

Right. Rebecca’s big charity gala. She’d told me about it during my first couple of days at Richmond and extended a very enthusiastic invite, but I’d been so distracted by getting used to the job and starting up a romance with a certain football legend that I’d all but forgotten about the event.

“Oh. Right.” I made a face. “You don’t really think she expects me to go, right? It’s not like it’s a mandatory part of my job or anything.”

Keeley rolled her eyes again. “Of course you have to go! There’s fabulous music and free booze and good food. And the boys’ll be there and watching them get auctioned off is a hoot! Besides, it’s just a fun excuse to dress up and have a good time with everyone.” Her round eyes pleaded. “I’ll help you pick a dress,” she offered in a sing-song voice.

I groaned and tossed my head back, not bothering to hide my small grin that grew at the thought of a fun, fancy evening with everyone from the club. “I mean, I guess,” I grumbled.

“You guess what?”

Keeley’s eyes widened with excitement at the sound of Roy’s voice. “Oh, hi Roy!” She grinned at me not-so-sneakily. “We were just talking about Rebecca’s ball this weekend. You’re going, right?” Roy grunted in response. “Aaaaaand do you have a date?”

Roy’s eyes flickered in my direction for a fraction of a moment. “No.”

“Interesting.” Keeley looked like the fucking Cheshire Cat. “Say, Roy-”

I cleared my throat. “Roy, didn’t you need to go talk to Ted about that defensive strategy you wanted to try?”

He immediately took the hint and played along. “Fuck. Thanks.” He turned with his usual robotic stiffness and stalked out of the office, leaving Keeley and me in silence.

“Come on, why’d you do that?” Keeley whined, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I was totally going to ask Roy about going to the ball with you!”

I shrugged, trying to keep calm. “Roy had coaching shit to do. Just doing my job. You know, being the coaching assistant and all.”

“Whatever,” Keeley scoffed. She paused, leaning close to the wall behind my desk, her mouth widening with glee. “Ho-ly shit. What the fuck is that?”

My eyes followed hers.

To my biggest fan. XOXO Roy Kent

Oh shit.

“Some stupid joke,” I mumbled, opening my laptop again, desperate to look too busy to chat. “I told Roy that my family’s big Richmond fans, he gave me some shit about it and wrote the note as a joke, that’s about it.”

“Look at you two, flirting in the workspace with a sexy orange sticky note.” Keeley winked at me. “Good for you, babes. Now all you have to do is let me help you pick a bangin’ outfit that’ll catch his attention Friday night!”

I narrowed my eyes at the girl who was having too much fun at my expense. “How about you help me pick something that looks nice, I’m comfortable in, and doesn’t kill my budget? We can leave Roy Kent out of my outfit.”

“Unless you’re looking super fit,” Keeley countered, jumping off my desk and heading towards the door. “In which case, Roy Kent will be spending the evening trying to get into your outfit.”

~

The night before, Roy had called with an offer to come over with food and a movie after work; it would be our first at-home hangout. I skipped out on work a tad early, complaining of imaginary cramps that Ted was immediately sympathetic to, so I could give my flat one last look over. I tidied up the things I hadn’t gotten to that morning before work and hid some of the more embarrassing family pictures that I wasn’t quite ready for Roy to see- like the one where my family and I wore the handmade Christmas jumpers my gran had made for us, each featuring the Greyhounds logo front and center. Nope, Roy freaking Kent did not need to see that.

With the flat tidy, I changed into some leggings and a cozy sweater, still wanting to look nice despite Roy’s assurance that all he wanted was a casual, comfortable evening together. I was running a brush through my hair when the now-familiar knock reached my ears. Trying not to look too giddy, I all but ran to the door and threw it open.

Roy stood in front of me, holding a box of pizza with a couple of DVDs on top. His face softened when he saw me, the way it seemed to always do when we were finally alone. He wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for the tiniest kiss as I pulled him into my flat, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he huffed when he let me go.

“Hi,” I whispered back, suddenly shy around the man I had just been kissing in an empty office hours earlier. Perhaps it was the fact that Roy Kent was standing in my flat, leaving us, for the first time since we’d been at my parents’ house, truly alone. Not surrounded by very well-meaning, nosy coworkers at the Dog Track. Not glancing over our shoulders at pubs to make sure no one was snapping a pic of a football star and a mystery woman. Just us, me and Roy, Roy and me, free to kiss and be close and just be a normal couple.

Couple. Whoa. There was a word I hadn’t allowed myself to say yet. It had only been a couple weeks of sending flirty text messages during meetings and sneaking kisses when Ted and Beard weren’t in the neighboring office and sitting in dark corner booths of pubs far from the prying eyes of A.F.C. Richmond, but already this felt serious. Real, as Keeley had mentioned the morning after my first date with Roy. Something that wouldn’t end with me stealing Roy’s watch in the middle of the night as he slept. (Yes, that’s what a model he dated did. No, I hadn’t brought it up yet, although I had plenty of jokes waiting for when the topic did inevitably arise.) Something that- and this felt way too soon to even whisper to myself in my innermost thoughts- might not have to end.

Roy could probably see the gears turning in my head, based on the face he was making at me. “You alright?” he asked, placing the pizza box on the coffee table. “You look like you’re thinking about somethin’.”

I shook my head, reminding myself to just enjoy getting to be with him. “Nah, just… I kind of can’t believe you’re here.” With the pizza out of the way, I could wrap my arms around him. “Like you’re here. Roy Kent. In my flat.”

The concern on his face was replaced with amusement. “Ah. Now I see the resemblance between you and your dad.” I blushed at the reminder of my father’s too excited reaction to seeing Roy Kent in our foyer. “It’s flatterin’,” he assured me, kissing the tip of my nose. “In fact, I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t have a shrine to me here.” He lifted his head and looked around my living room. “Such a shame,” he hummed.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” I huffed, giving him a squeeze. “It’s not cute.”

“Fine. Can I be full of pizza then?”

I laughed and released him. “That works. Let me just grab some plates.”

Roy followed me to the kitchen, on my heels like a puppy. My heart swelled at the realization that he probably wanted to take advantage of being alone with me. I handed him the plates I pulled from the cupboard, reveling in the quiet, domestic moment, how natural it felt to get out plates for a quiet dinner at home with Roy Kent. I turned to the fridge and grabbed a couple of sodas, then led Roy back into the living room.

Curious about what Roy brought, I made a beeline for the DVDs. I didn’t bother to hide the surprise on my face when I saw the cover of the one on top.

“The Sound of Music?” I blurted incredulously, looking over at Roy as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

His eyes narrowed as he opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “You got a problem with that?” he growled, the playful look in his eye daring me to judge his movie pick.

I shrugged as I turned on the television and set up the movie. “Nope. I love The Sound of Music. Just not what I expected from you.”

“What’d you expect? Fast and the Furious? Transformers?”

“Or something dark, like The Shining,” I suggested as I joined him on the couch. “Not Julie Andrews.” I paused. “Not that I don’t love her,” I assured him. “She’s brilliant. Sound of Music is brilliant. Just a bit unexpected.”

Roy chuckled and scooted closer to me, pressing his thigh against mine as he leaned onto the couch. “The Shining,” he repeated. “A guy goes fucking nuts and tries to kill his family. Yep, that’s the kind of romantic impression I want to make.” He pointed at the screen, where scenes from the movie danced before us as the soundtrack played in the background. “This is fucking romantic. Sixteen Going on Seventeen, Edelweiss, Something Good, the fucking wedding with all the nuns singing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria. Romantic as hell.”

I hit PLAY and grabbed myself some pizza, not bothering to hide the smile on my face. “Romance, huh?”

Roy smiled and shook his head. “Just watch the fucking movie.”

~

“Fuck, I’m so obsessed with the curtain dress,” I sighed, pressed against Roy’s side as Julie Andrews pranced around onscreen. “D’you think I’d look good in that dress?” I turned my head up towards Roy, who eyed me warily.

“I think you’d look good in anything,” he mumbled. He wrinkled his nose. “Was that too fucking cheesy?”

“Just cheesy enough,” I assured him. “If you think I could rock the curtain dress, just imagine me in the Mother Superior’s habit.”

He snorted, a huge smile gracing his face. “Once again, you’d look good in anything.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Speaking of dresses,” he said, clearly looking for an opening in the conversation, “are you going to that fucking charity thing?”

I sat up a little. “That’s actually why Keeley was in our office today. She was asking me about what I’m going to wear and bugging me about asking you to be my date.” I fidgeted with my hands. “And you’re going, I assume?”

He nodded. “Kinda have to. At least this year I don’t have to worry about being auctioned off like some fucking piece of meat.” A smirk formed on his lips. “Although I’m sure you’d love that.”

I rolled my eyes. “As if I could afford those auction prices,” I scoffed. “More like I’d get to watch you get bid on by gorgeous models wondering how much they have to spend to guarantee the night ended in your bed.” As much as I tried to make my words come off as snarky and joking, I knew my jealousy and insecurities seeped through every word.

Roy seemed to notice too. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair, planting kisses there. “If it makes you feel better,” he murmured, squeezing me around my waist, “it was only the models’ old grannies that bid on me. Except last year, when Keeley was mad at Jamie and placed exactly one bid on me to piss him off, but I still ended up being won by a very horny old woman.” He shuddered, probably for my benefit as well as the memory itself. “If you want,” he whispered in that low, gruff voice, “we could have our own private auction after the ball.”

A shiver trailed down my spine, one he could probably feel. Roy Kent was not particularly flirtatious; he was snarky and often clever, he loved to tease and make fun of me, but he very rarely said something so… sexy.

“And during the ball?” I asked, desperate to change the subject and ignore the heat in my cheeks. “Like, do we ignore each other? Do we hang out?”

He sighed and sat back, tracing circles on my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “I mean… it’s free seating, so we could sit together. And I don’t think anyone will notice if we dance together once or twice. Well, maybe Keeley.” He shrugged, gazing down at me. “I think we can manage to spend some time together while not raising anyone’s suspicions. Again, except Keeley. But who fucking cares if she figures it out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, leaning up to peck his cheek. “Alright now shut up, they’re singing again.”

~

“Ah, there you are!” Richard Montlaur stood in the doorway between the coaches’ offices, smiling at me. “Oh, hello Roy.” He nodded to his coach before strolling across the office to my desk. “I have a question for you.”

I blinked at him. “Uh, hi. What’s up?” In my brief time at Richmond, Montlaur had hardly spoken to me. A hello here and there, telling me I looked pretty a few times, but nothing worth noting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy swivel in his chair slightly, clearly listening in.

Richard’s smile grew. “You are going on Friday, no? To Rebecca’s party?”

“Oh, yeah.” My puzzlement grew. “You?”

“Of course!” He leaned against the wall by my desk. “We should go together, yes?”

Roy stiffened. Fuck.

I cleared my throat and shuffled my feet. “Oh. Richard, that’s very sweet of you. But, um, I…”

“You have a date already?” Montlaur tilted his head, confusion covering his pretty face.

“Um…” I stopped myself from looking at Roy. “No, I don’t, I just…” I bit my lip. “I kind of planned on going solo. But it’s very sweet of you to ask.” I prayed the smile on my face didn’t look too forced.

Richard shrugged, unphased. “Ah, well. Just thought I would ask. You are, after all, the prettiest thing on this team. After me of course,” he added with a wink. He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to it. “At least promise you will save me one dance?”

I couldn’t make myself look at Roy; I knew he was fuming at his desk. “Sure, Richard,” I agreed. “One dance.” I took my hand back.

“Wonderful. If you’ll excuse me, I should go get ready for practice.” On his way out the door, he waved to Roy. “See you out there, Coach!”

As soon as Richard was out the door, I spun my chair around, finally facing Roy. He was already turned around, facing me with his arms crossed, his expression hard and stoney like it was the day we met. His mouth was in a perfectly straight line as he stared me down, reminding me of the way I used to see him stare down opponents on television.

“You really going to dance with that prick?”

I shrugged. “I mean, I guess? It’s no big deal, just a dance.”

Roy nodded slowly, his eyebrows knitted together as his face turned red. “Sure. No big deal.” He stood up. “I gotta go to practice.” He made his way out of the office.

“Roy-”

“Whistle!” The chattering in the changing room died instantly. “Oi, all of you, out on the pitch. Twenty laps as your warm up. Whistle!”

Nope. There was nothing I could do at this point; the boys would just all have to suffer. Hopefully seeing Montlaur run until he nearly puked would be enough to calm Roy down before he came back to the office. Trying to put thoughts of Roy and Richard and the gala out of my head, I turned my attention to my computer and opened a file containing personal project of mine: an American-to-British English dictionary just for Ted. The man desperately needed it.

“Hey babes!” Keeley sauntered in a couple hours later, her pink sparkly dress shining in the fluorescent light. “You ready to go?”

I cocked my head at her. “Go…?”

“Dress shopping!” she reminded me, pulling me out of my chair. “I already told Ted that I’m kidnapping you. So, let’s go!”

As we strolled arm in arm to different shops, I felt my mind drift back to Roy, wondering how practice was going. I prayed he wasn’t being too rough on the boys; it wasn’t their fault Montlaur unwittingly asked out Roy’s…. whatever I was.

“Hey, was Roy okay today?” Keeley peered at me over the clothing rack we were searching through, eyebrows raised. “I swear to God, you could hear him screaming whistle across the whole damn building.”

I shrugged. “I mean, he’s Roy,” I muttered, hoping I seemed nonchalant. “The man’s a ball of rage. Wouldn’t it be more surprising if he wasn’t screaming at the guys?” Come on, Keeley. Agree with my logic.

Keeley shifted her gaze to the dress she held out in front of her. “Hmm. I guess.” Her eyes found mine in a flash. “I did hear about Richard asking you to the ball. Guess I was just wondering if Roy got a little…” She popped her lips. “Jealous?”

“Enough,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Just help me find a damn dress.”

“Done.” Keeley held up a red dress that- damn her- I knew would look perfect on me.

I couldn’t help copying her infectious grin. “Fucking hell, Keeley.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

“Oi, d’you need a ride home?”

Roy stood over my desk, clutching his duffel bag, not quite looking me in the eye. A touch of pink colored his cheeks.

I tapped my pencil against my desk. “Well considering you drove me here this morning…” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Right.” He tapped the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “Well, I’ll meet you at the car I guess.”

I sighed as I began packing my things. “You can just wait here for me,” I huffed. “If you want, I mean. I’ll be quick.”

“Right,” he repeated.

I felt his eyes on me as I tucked my laptop and other things into my bag and wrote myself a note reminding myself about the tasks I needed to tackle the next morning, sticking it up next to Roy’s note. Then I shouldered my bag and grabbed the shopping bag that held the dress and heels Keeley had helped me find. When I was ready, I looked over at Roy, who was sitting at his desk, watching me from over the top of his phone that he had been pretending to scroll on.

“You ready?”

Our walk to the car was uncharacteristically quiet, the air around us heavy. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as we crossed the parking lot, wondering if I’d somehow managed to fuck things up already. Great job. You’re gonna lose the guy of your dreams AND make the best job you’ve ever had uncomfortable as hell.

To my surprise, Roy opened the passenger door and helped me into the car, the same way he always did. He squeezed my hand, a reassuring touch after the silence we’d shared in the office once I returned from shopping. With one hand on the steering wheel, Roy put the key in the ignition and started the car- and immediately turned it back off. He turned to face me, his face serious.

“I didn’t fucking like Montlaur asking you out,” he said bluntly. “He’s a prick and was probably thinking he’d get to sleep with you just because he asked you to the gala. But I guess it’s not his fault for not knowing we’re seeing each other. And us keeping things private was my idea, so I probably shouldn’t be so fucking defensive.” His hand tapped on the steering wheel. “So, I’m sorry for being short with you,” he finished. “And sorry if I made you feel guilty when you honestly didn’t do a fucking thing wrong.”

In his eyes I could see that same anxiety that I had seen as he waited for me to tell him what I’d thought of his pub. When he asked me about keeping our situation private. That look that told me that what I felt mattered to him.

“It’s okay, Roy,” I whispered, resting my hand on his leg. “I was honest when I told Richard I didn’t want to go with him, I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Like you said, it’s not his fault.” I smirked. “How many laps did the guys end up doing anyway?”

A sheepish grin appeared on Roy’s face. “Ted talked me down to fifteen laps. But then they did burpees right after. Dani and Sam both threw up.”

I shook my head, holding back laughter. “Those poor boys. None of them better ask me to dance Friday.”

Now Roy shook his head, leaning close, clearly planning to take advantage of the empty parking lot. “You can dance with them,” he whispered. I could feel his stubble brush against my skin before he closed the distance between our lips. “Just promise to save the last dance for me.”

~

“Over here! Ms. Welton over here!”

I stood on the edge of the red carpet, wincing as I watched the scene before me. My friends and colleagues, alone or with stunning dates on their arms, made their way down the carpet, stopping to pose for photos, smiling widely and cracking jokes at the photographers. They all looked so calm, so at ease, while I floated at the periphery, trying to decide if I should brave the red carpet, walk behind the whole mess like the peasant I suddenly felt like, or just go home.

The last one was starting to sound good to me when I heard a familiar growl behind me. When I turned around, there was Roy, his soft brown eyes contrasting with the hard look on his face and providing me with an anchor to cling to. To no one’s surprise, he was wearing all black, a fitted suit that made my heart slam against my chest. He took a step closer to me, his gaze flickering to the photographers who whispered to themselves with excitement as soon as he approached their view.

“Fuck you for wearing that dress,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, clearly trying to look casual. “You look amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the Roy Kent-ness of his compliment. “Keeley’s goal was for me to get your attention. I’m glad it’s working.”

He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets; I could see him trying to suppress a smile. “You’d get my attention even if you were wearing Maria’s curtain dress,” he breathed. “This-” His eyes trailed the red dress that hugged every curve, as if it had been made just for me. “-this is fucking torture.”

Before I could respond, I felt an arm hook through mine, grabbing my attention. I turned around; Keeley.

“Hi guys!” she gushed, looking gorgeous in a rose gold dress and with Jamie right behind her. “Don’t you two look grand together.” She shot me a wink. “Walking the carpet?”

Roy stiffened up, eyeing the papps with unease. “Speed-walking, more like.” He nodded to the three of us, though his eyes were on me. “See you in there.” He turned towards the carpet and bolted across, ignoring the photographers’ pleas for a picture, answering with only his two favorite words: Fuck no.

Keeley nudged me, nodding towards the photographers. “You go ahead,” she urged.

“Um…” I knew she saw the grimace on my face. “Think I could just, I dunno, go around?”

Her face softened as she tightened her arm around mine. “How about we go together? There’s enough photos of me and Jamie floating around online, they don’t need any more.” She glanced at Tartt. “That alright with you babe?”

Jamie nodded. I finally realized the shirt under his suit jacket was black see-through netting. “Go for it.” He shot me a friendly wink, assuring me that yes, I could steal his girlfriend for a strut up the red carpet.

Arms still linked, Keeley and I approached the edge of the carpet, where the photogaphers screamed Keeley’s name, asking who she was wearing and who she was with. She struck poses, an absolute natural, and flashed the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen. I knew Keeley was beautiful- I’d seen her in magazines and ads for years, and of course knew her in person now- but seeing Model Keeley, live and in person, was an experience.

“Come on!” she urged, pulling me close. I mirrored her pose, feeling silly, a bit like a teenage girl taking selfies with her best friend. But having Keeley give me a squeeze suddenly made it… fun. Keeley shouted out my name to the reporters, spelling it with ease, and declaring me the Richmond coaching staff’s “fabulous new administrative assistant”.

I giggled as I pushed her down the red carpet, ready to get to the party. My heart purred with pleasure when I saw that Roy had not gone into the building yet; rather, he was standing by the entrance, watching me with a soft fondness covering his face. For once, he didn’t bother hiding the joy I knew we both felt around each other. I was sure my face matched my dress as Keeley and I approached him, stopping so Keeley could go back and join Jamie back in front of the cameras; so much for there already being enough photos of the two of them.

“You have fun out there?” Roy asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A bit,” I admitted, more to myself than anyone else. “You should try it sometime.”

He bit his lip, looking me up and down, clearly emboldened by the lack of eyes and ears focused on us. “Maybe next year. With the right date on my arm.”

“Oh.” That was all I could manage; was Roy Kent- Roy fucking Kent- implying that we would still be seeing each other a year from now? It sure as hell sounded like it.

And I sure as hell found myself hoping it would happen.

Roy seemed to understand my sudden bashfulness. “Come on. Let’s head inside before the papps actually manage to get a fucking picture of me.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, taking advantage of the formal setting to have some physical contact to guide me into the venue.

As we entered the ballroom, I resisted the urge to gawk at the opulence of the venue; surely my wedding wouldn’t be this nice (unless you marry Roy Kent, the voice in my head teased).

Surely Roy could feel how overwhelmed I was. “Let’s find some seats and go grab drinks,” he suggested. “We’ll need ’em.”

I rose an eyebrow at him as he led me through the party towards the tables taken up by our fellow Richmond staff and players. “You sure you’re not too comfy there, Kent?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Everyone kind of gets extra friendly at this thing, so no one’ll bat an eye if we hang out.” He shrugged. “Especially since we’re officemates. It’ll seem kind of… natural for me to hang out with you, we’re always together at work anyway.” He nodded towards an empty table. “How’s here?”

“Sure.” I placed my clutch on the table, saving mine and Roy’s spots. “D’you mind if Keeley and Jamie join us?”

Roy threw his head back. “Fuuuuuuu-” He glanced at the begging expression on my face. “Fine.” He nodded towards the bar. “I’m gonna need a drink if you’re gonna make me hang out with Jamie fuckin’ Tartt.”

“Deal,” I agreed. “Lead the way.”

~

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want something?” Roy raised an eyebrow at me as the band began to set up onstage.

Dinner had been delicious, with Keeley and Jamie cracking jokes with us and pointing out the most ridiculously rich people in the room for my benefit. The auction had gone off without a hitch; I particularly enjoyed the amusement on Keeley’s face as she successfully bid on Jamie for an outlandish amount of money. Best of all, Roy had been sweet and attentive, much to Keeley’s glee, which helped to calm my nerves.

This might be the best night of my life.

“Sure, want me to come help you?” I offered, starting to stand up.

Roy shook his head, gesturing for me to stay seated. “What kind of gentleman would I bet if I made you get your own drink?” he whispered as he stood. He nodded to Jamie, who he’d actually been really friendly with during dinner. “Be right back.”

The moment Roy was out of earshot, Keeley pounced into his seat. “Holy shit! He’s so into you!” She nudged me happily. “All you have to do to seal the deal is grind on him in that dress, and he’ll be begging to go home with you.”

“Oh stop, Keeley,” I begged, giggling from the drinks I’d had with dinner. “Roy’s just being nice. He’s a good guy.” I turned around to look at Roy, who’d be bringing back my favorite dri-

“Oh shit, look who Roy’s talkin’ to!” Jamie laughed over his drink. “What a fuckin’ reunion.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. Of course I recognized Brittany Brett, lingerie model and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. I’d seen photos of them in magazines for the four months they’d been seen together around Europe, often appearing wherever Roy had a match or she had a shoot. According to the tabloids, she devastatingly dumped him, and within two weeks she was spotted on a double date with some player for Barcelona and Mr. and Mrs. Lionel Messi.

And now there she was, wearing the tiniest dress I had ever seen and showing more cleavage than a renaissance painting. And, worst of all, clinging to Roy Kent. My Roy Kent. My face grew hot with envy as she laid a hand on his arm- the arm that had just been wrapped around my chair- and giggled. With his back to me, I could only imagine the expression on Roy’s face. Was it the scowl he usually wore around the rest of the world? Or was it the gentle smile he shared with me between kisses when we were alone? Or was it the look of adoration and desire he’d had a few hours ago when he complimented my red dress? Maybe it was the number of drinks I had, or the loud music that had started somewhere during my panic attack, or just the sight of this gorgeous woman hanging all over the guy I liked, but my head suddenly started spinning.

Before I could begin to fathom an idea of how to appropriately react, a hand landed on my shoulder. Richard Montlaur smiled down at me, handsome in his suit.

“I believe you owe me a dance,” he greeted in a friendly, teasing voice. He held his hand out to me. “Shall we?”

I shot one more glance at Roy, who still stood with Brittany Brett, no sign of my drink in his hand. “Sure,” I mumbled, taking his hand. “But maybe we could grab a drink first?”

Richard smiled as he helped me up. “Perfect.” He kept my hand in his as he led the way to the bar, settling us exactly where I wanted to be- right behind Roy and Brittany Brett.

I muttered my drink order to Richard and turned my attention to the conversation behind me.

“Roy,” Brittany purred in that syrupy voice I recalled from a couple interviews I’d seen online. “I’m so bummed you weren’t auctioned off tonight. I would have loved to put in a bid on you.”

Roy scoffed. “Come on, you know I hate that shit.”

“Who’s that girl you’re with? Not a date?”

My back stiffened as Richard handed me my drink.

“Er, she’s my assistant,” Roy mumbled. “I mean, she’s the coaching staff’s assistant. We share an office.”

“Aww,” Brittany cooed, as if Roy was talking about some cute thing Phoebe had done at school. “That is so sweet of you to sit with her. I’m sure she feels so out of place at an event like this, poor thing.”

That was all I needed to hear. I felt small, so fucking small, listening to Brittany fucking Brett simper over Roy and the charity case that was his assistant. I downed my drink and held out my hand to Richard.

“Let’s dance.”

I must have had too many drinks, or maybe I was just blinded by petty jealousy and anger, but I didn’t remember Richard leading me to the dance floor. I just knew that one moment, I was on the verge of tears behind Roy, and the next I was pressing my body close to Richard Montlaur as we swayed to a slow song.

As we swayed on the dance floor, I allowed my gaze to return to the bar. There was Roy, still chatting with Brittany Brett, but his eyes were on the table we’d been sitting at, a puzzled frown on his face. He craned his neck, eyes wandering until they landed on me and Richard. His frown deepened and he cocked his head at me. Even from this distance, I could see the hurt in his eyes.

But then I saw Brittany Brett lay her hand on his chest, clearly oblivious to the conversation Roy and I were having through eye contact. Instead, I tightened my grip on Richard’s shoulders as I watched Brittany Brett lean forward and kiss Roy’s lips.

I looked down, blinking away the tears that suddenly formed. “Um, I’m sorry Richard, but I don’t feel well,” I managed, taking a step back. “Thank you so much for the dance, but I-” I shook my head and left the dance floor, heading to the nearest exit, refusing to take another look at Roy Kent.

[russellsppttemplates]

For the rest of our lives (Mick Schumacher)

Getting married to the love of your life when you're young only means you share all of the memories and experiences with your partner in crime

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: alcohol consumption

"My love, we have been invited to go out tonight", your husband said as he sat down on the sofa next to your desk in home office, making you focus on him instead of the spreadsheet in front of you, "we have? I could use a night out actually", you mused, thinking about how you had bought yourself a new dress that would be perfect for the occasion, "if you want to, they we'll go. I still have a few more hours of work before I have to sign off for the weekend, but other than that, everything is fine by me", you said as you watched him type what you assumed was a response saying you'd be joining the group, "will it bother you too much if I stay here? I promise I won't distract you", he said in a low tone, "of course you can, and maybe you can get me a coffee too, please?", you pouted, knowing he wouldn't say no as he got up and headed tor the kitchen before coming back with your favourites, "thank you, love", you said as you took a sip, your feet somehow managing to land on top of his thighs so you could have some form of physical contact between you while you finished your work.

After logging off, you took a quick shower before joining Mick in the kitchen to help him with dinner, Angie always following you whenever you went near the cupboards in hopes of getting some treats that might fall from your hands, ending up sitting by your feet while you both have dinner, discussing day to day things before you tidied and went upstairs to get ready. You stood in front of the mirror in your dressing table, shaking your hair so it wouldn't be too flat before trying to grab the thin fabric that would be tied around your back to secure everything in, "Do you want some help with that?", you heard your husband's teasing tone, turning to face the mirror again and letting him tie the straps, "is this good? Not too tight?", he asked as he made sure he wasn't squeezing you before making you turn around to face him, "you look incredible, schatz, absolutely incredible", he said as he pressed kisses to your shoulders going up to your neck before kissing your lips, "glad I did not put lipstick on yet, otherwise you would've smudged it, mister", you said before you took his appearance, "you look really good too, definitely the most handsome man", you said as you cupped his cheeks, his skin soft to the touch, making him kiss your palm, "we're one good looking couple, that's for sure", he said before he helped you put on your shoes and coat and leave the house.

You arrived at the club you'd be spending the night in, greeting your friends before they offered the first round, shots arriving to the table before you all downed them, your friend making you join her on the dance floor, waving every now and again to see your husband winking at you from the booth, "excuse me, would you allow me to buy you a drink? No one deserves to be here all alone and no drinks", you heard someone say before you turned to see who the voice belonged to, facing a man who was about your age as you showed him your drink on your left hand, "Oh, you're married. Sorry, didn't mean to offend. I'll leave you be", he hurried off, apologising again as your friend hit your shoulder playfully, "that thing on your finger just stopped us from having free drinks", she shook her head as you smiled at her, playing with your rings before you saw Mick and your friend's partner join you two with new drinks, "was he bothering you, gorgeous? Are you okay?", he checked for any signs of uneasiness, "on the contrary, Mick, he got so flustered when he saw her rings that he apologised and rushed off", your friend giggled as you circled your husband's waist, nestling your body on his, "he thought you were gorgeous too, but I noticed it first", he said as he kissed your forehead, taking a sip from his drink afterwards as he just swayed you both to the music playing, enjoying how you felt near him and in his arms.

"This one is for us, liebling", he said as he handed you another shot, downing it along with you as you shook your head at the taste, "that one did burn actually", you said before you looked lovingly at him, "I love you, to the moon and back" you whispered in his ear as you watched him become a blushy mess, his sweet giggles a sight to behold, "you want to know something?", you said as you laced your fingers in his, wedding bands clinking in eachother before you kissed his lips again, "I love you", you said sweetly before peppering kisser all over his cheeks, the blush from the heat, alcohol and your words making him look even more handsome to you.

Arriving home was easy considering your state, your heels dropped on the floor while you went to the bedroom, helping your husband take his clothes off before he helped you out of yours and into your pyjamas, "you're so pretty, liebling", he mused, "so pretty".

.

"C'mon Angie, let's keep going", you urged the dog who, like you, was showing already some signs of tiredness, "I promise we are nearly there", Mick said a few steps in front of you. You had decided to go for a hike, taking the opportunity since Mick was home for the weekend and you did not have any extra work to do, the sunny day outside inviting to spend it outside. True to his words, you soon arrived at a beautiful waterfall, making you drop you backpack as you looked at how the water fell and pooled at the end, Angie drinking some of the water as you and Mick took it all in, "this is beautiful", you whispered as he joined you, hugging you from behind, "it is", he replied back before kissing your cheek, "thank you for agreeing to come with us", he whispered as his breath fanned your neck tickling you, "please, if I had stayed home, not even Angie would've come with you so early in the morning, we would have stayed all snuggled up in the warm bed", you teased as you felt him smirk against your skin, "well, then I can go on my own anyway", he said as he peeled himself from you, starting to take his t-shirt off and shorts too after he checked once again that you were all alone, making you bite your lip a you watched him fold his clothes on top of his backpack before going for a swim, "it's too warm there, here is fresher", he said as you knew he was tempting you to join him, the sight incredible for him as you too started taking off your leggings and hoodie, joining him while Angie also swam around, "need cuddles", you said as you opened your arms to circle them around his waist, your body erupting in goosebumps from the different temperatures, "you make me crazy, Mick, absolutely crazy", you said as you caressed his torso and kissed all over his chest, "is that because of my body, the fact that I woke you up early to get here or that we're swimming with no clothes on in a small waterfall?", he teased, pulling your lips in for a kiss, "honestly? All of the above. And maybe the fact that you drive really fast cars and it gets me all nervous, but I could go with this right here, yeah", you mumbled into his skin, continuing to press kisses to his pale skin.

.

Driving in the mud was the plan for the day, Gina helping you with breakfast before the boys came downstairs to join you, "Good morning, good morning", you heard Mick say before he came up to you, circling his arms around your waist while you pushed eggs around in the pan, "Hello gorgeous, what are you making?", he said before kissing your shoulder, "some eggs, Gina is on toast duty, I have some avocado sliced already", you said as you moved the food into a bowl, ready for the table as you sat down, going over the plans one more time while eating and tidying up.

"Here, you need this for your pretty little head", he said as he kissed the top of your head before putting a helmet on your head, "now you're all safe", he smiled before he put his own on, checking you were strapped in safely before fastening his belt and starting the engine, "can you start slowly first, please?", you asked loud enough for him to hear, "so I can get used to it", you knew you were blushing under the devices protecting you, "of course. Squeeze my thigh if you need me to stop, yeah?", he checked again before he sped it up, your laughs and enjoyment through the roof as he did all kinds of imaginary circuits.

Getting off a while later, your legs felt like jelly from all the adrenaline as you shrieked with Gina about what you had just done, feeling your husband hug you, "You're all dirty, Mick!", you yelled, "you say that like you're much cleaner!", he replied back, the mud spreading between you as Gina took a photo of the moment, "Oh, there's your child!", her partner said as Angie approached the area with Corinna now that the cars were no longer going, deciding to stand by your mother in law instead of the usual excited greeting, "c'mon, baby, come here for a cuddle", you bent down while she looked weary, "she's thinking you're all dirty, no way she's getting near that", Corinna offered with a giggle, "Oh, especially herself, goodness knows how she is whenever it is bathtime".

Later on the evening, now in bed cuddled up to you, Mick thought about the past few days, "I love having you with me at all times", he mused and you looked at him, response ready in your tongue, "I would hope so, you married me after all. Until further information, this is for life", you smiled as you watched him slightly roll his eyes, "I mean that, though. I love that you're mine and I'm yours. That we get to share everything for the rest of our lives, together", he said as he kissed your lips, sealing his lifelong promise to love and cherish you.

[yallthemwitches]

Catch the Wind, Ch. 9: Everything Else

We've made it to 7th year folks! You know what that means (nsfw))

It's this heatwave hitting France right now, your honor. It forced me to write this.

AO3 Link (Please feel free to write a review! I read every one of them and it means a lot to get feedback!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/57047455/chapters/147217729

The letter had come two weeks after James found his way into Cokeworth.

“I’m Head Girl," Lily announced. Marlene, who was smoking a cigarette in front of the television, let out a groan. 

“Oh fuck off with that surprised tone.” She took a drag. “We all knew it was no competition.” 

Lily looked down at the piece of paper. Dumbledore’s purple script gleamed up alongside a golden plated badge. 

“He made a muggleborn the Head Girl,” Lily said.  Marlene threw Lily a dirty look. 

“No, you pisser. He made you Head Girl because you deserve it. I don’t think Dumbledore would play the identity politics game on this one.”

Marlene lit another cigarette and changed the channel. “Who’s the lucky lad, then? Bet it's Lupin—can you imagine Potter and Blacks’ joy if he gets crowned?”

Lily stiffened at the mention of James. They hadn’t really conversed much since his visit, but she repeated his words in her head almost a thousand times since he had said them. If I let you touch me, I will fall in love with you.

Despite Lily not knowing what she wanted from the situation with him, it didn’t stop her from fantasizing. How many nights now had she woken up with her hand wet between her legs, thinking about his mouth agape and panting—not even realizing she had started to work on herself in her sleep. The worst was when his smell was still lingering on her pillows the few days after he left. It’s bad enough to fantasize, but to be able to smell him too… It felt childish and embarrassing—and very much like she needed to find a hobby. 

“Oooh, what if it’s Sykes? I hear that boy is right randy for—” Lily used her foot to push Marlene’s side.

“Don’t be disgusting,” she said to her but meant it also to dispel the thoughts of James that had creeped up from his name. 

“I’m just saying, you could really use this opportunity—”

Lily smacked Marlene’s head with the paper. 

Lily’s mum drove them both to the station. Lily felt anxious and fidgeted in her seat. The silence between her and James after he left that day wasn’t supposed to be insidious—but it felt like an impasse. She wasn’t ready to be anything more than lovers and he—well….

He had been so soft, so loving at her house. It was the first time she had ever seen him truly unsure of himself. Just the thought of him, kneeling on her bed whispering affirmations in her ear while they encouraged each other made her feel like her chest was expanding with air. She hoped their silence in the past two weeks was meant to just give them some time for reflection— not misconstrued into rejection. 

Lily and Marlene said their goodbyes to Mrs. Evans and trudged up the steps of the train. Finding a compartment, they plopped down and Marlene immediately pulled a package of cigarettes from her back pocket.

“Still no word on the Head Bloke?” 

“You know as much as I do,” Lily sighed. She looked out the window. A head of untidy hair started to pass in the distance and her heart flipped. James loped his way through the crowd with his trunk, side by side with Sirius. He laughed at something and ran his hand through his hair. He was out of eyesight as fast as he appeared. 

Lily felt like a bucket of water had been poured on her. How is it possible to want someone and not want them all at once. 

The train moved out of the station and towards Hogwarts. The girls chatted while Lily scribbled some notes down on a spare bit of parchment. Her first prefect meeting was right as they got to the school. It wasn’t ideal that she didn’t know her partner, but she wanted to be prepared all the same. 

There was a loud knock. The door slid open and Lily’s heart nearly gave out. 

James stood in the doorway with a hand already in his hair. 

“Alright Evans? You have a good summer?”  If it weren’t for the flood of memories, she could have almost convinced herself there was nothing going on between them. 

“Could we chat for a second?” He tapped his fingers on the door.

Marlene eyed him warily. “What do you have to say Potter?The floor is yours.”

“Hi to you too, McKinnon. Sorry, but I’m afraid the conversation is for redhead’s ears only.”

Marlene scoffed. The girls both looked at him. 

“Please?” He whined dramatically. 

Lily stood up. “Alright, I’ll bite.” Marlene gave Lily a warning look. 

“Famous last words.” She smirked as Lily left the compartment.

James didn’t turn around. He walked her near the back of the train where there was an empty compartment and ushered her in. So far, he was not offering any warm welcomes that would be expected from someone who snogged you just weeks ago. 

He closed the compartment door with a click and turned to her. They stared at each other for a long while. How many times had she thought of his face since she had last seen him? She replayed his hooded expression; eyes transfixed on the work his hands were doing, lost in their own world between ecstasy and determination. Standing here now, his eyes were full and glassy. He shifted his feet a bit and looked everywhere around the tiny compartment but at her. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” He offered. It seemed like a wide understatement on his part. The compartment was small, but Lily felt as though it was shrinking. The air was being sucked out the longer they stood there. James contracted his hand at his side.

“Look–I’ll just say it,” He started in, “I’m sorry I didn’t write after seeing you. I worked really hard to get here—for us to be mates—it was good really, to deflate a bit..” Lily’s brain was flooding. What is he doing right now? 

“It might not look like much to you, but I really tried–I am trying. To be a good mate…for you.” He was stumbling on his words. Lily tried to act calm, but all she could think of were the thousand main points he could be babbling to get towards.

“I really had a good time at your place. Merlin, saying good is such an understatement—but…” He paused, then looked at her dead in the eyes.

“I can’t be physical with you—anymore.” He might as well have slapped her. 

“Was I that bad of a dance partner last year?” She had wanted to lighten the mood but his stare was solid and dark. 

“We can’t do this anymore because I’ll fall in love with you— I really meant it when I said it last time and now that I’ve had time to think, I know it's true.” She hadn’t expected to hear him say it again. A clawing started to rise in her stomach. 

“And if I fall in love with you, you’ll take the piss out of me like you always do—and vice versa—--and I won’t  be able to survive it.”

She was hearing his words; heard every single bit loud and clear. But she could only focus on his eyes which had only gotten darker as he spoke. They were getting more wild by the second, his hands were balling and contracting at his sides. 

“You know, I’ve been bloody going along with this secret—like fuck—I even kept it from Sirius. Sirius. That git knows everything about me, you realize that?”

To someone looking in, it could have been mistaken for anger. He started rolling up his sleeves; eyes darting around the room. 

“And then you tell me that I don’t want to be in love with you? What kind of self-deprecating sodding shit, is that? How could I not. I mean look at you.”

She couldn’t cut him off if she wanted. He was out of control; completely spiraling. His eyes were getting wider and his breath was becoming more shallow. It was clear that the words he was saying were just words. Any words. They weren’t meant to convince her. They were for himself. 

Jesus fuck he’s reconsidering.

James took a beat. His breathing quick and shallow. She had seen this look before in deserted corridors, hidden alcoves, and most recently in her own bedroom. It was all very obvious now. Her body felt a dull ache for the inevitable. 

 “I want to shag you. So badly.” The minute he said it, the air left the room.

“Yeah, me too.” She was matter of fact. Nothing could be more clear. 

His eyes were blown out, looking beyond her physical form and into the deepest part of her. He nodded, completely detached from his body. 

“Yeah, ok.”

He was on her. It wasn’t like back at Cokeworth, where cautious soft touches explored each other’s bodies. He practically clawed at her, taking her chin forcefully into his hand and smashing their mouths together all while wrenching her lips apart with his tongue. His hands made no preamble to slip under her shirt and onto her breasts, teasing at her nipple and making them stand on end. She was not much different: her hands flung to his belt and started to undo the clasp without any interference on his part. He slammed her body against the window of the compartment but not before deftly shooting his hand upwards to pull the curtains down behind them. His mouth moved to her neck, suctioning itself until she could feel her blood caplets burst just underneath the skin. He removed his hands from under her shirt and grabbed both of her thighs hard, pushing up her skirt so he could see her knickers underneath. 

Fuck—shit—fuck. He kept pouring out expletives, he was gone—a complete mad man. Before Lily could slide her hand into his underpants, He fell to his knees in front of her, using leverage on her thighs to push her back harder against the window. He pulled one of her thighs up over his shoulder.

He paused, staring intently right at the center of her which was guarded only by some very moist knickers. He was heaving, his glasses askew on his face.

“I could die right now. Evans, you could kill me this second and I’d be so happy. Holy merlin fuck you are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Lily looked down at him, lips swollen and panting as well. She could feel his breath on her skin. She didn’t respond—even if she could, she wouldn’t know what to say. Her body was on fire. She’d do anything he asked as long as he put his mouth on her. 

He kissed her inner thigh, above the lining of her knickers, then the front of her pelvic bone. She let out a loud gasp, before clasping her hand over her mouth. They had not used a silencing charm.

He wrapped his arm around her elevated leg that was resting on his shoulder and looked at her. His eyes were practically quivering as he used his forefinger to push aside her knickers, and she finally felt his breath fully on her center. He did not break eye contact as he lowered his mouth and kissed her. 

It sent a shock through her. She used one hand to keep her balance against the window but ran the other one through his hair, pushing his mouth farther into her as his tongue started making small patterns. He made little noises into her—groaning and gasping almost as much as she was from his work. His other hand slipped up and down her leg softly. 

Potter. James—oh my god. She didn’t know anything could feel like this. His hand had already been incomparable to anything she could do on her own, but now to have him under her, she felt like her soul was going to detach from her body.  

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you coming at your house. It haunts me,” he breathed into her. “I want to see you come again—oh fuck Evans please. I’ll do whatever you want.

She took the invitation. She yanked his hair, and he looked at her quizzically. 

“You told me we were going to shag, Potter.”

His pupils dilated. She moved her leg off of his shoulder, now wrapping it loosely around his waist. He stood back up and caught her mouth. His lips were wet with her own taste. He groaned and instinctively bucked his hips upwards, realizing she could taste herself on him. Fuck Evans.

The train halted. A whistle blew and a distant yell wafted into the compartment. “First years follow me!”

They had arrived. 

The spell broke. Now able to take stock of the situation, the compartment was heady and faintly damp. 

James moved first. Pulling himself off of her, and turning around. He looked up to the ceiling with his hands on his face and made a guttural noise before starting to button up his pants. Lily attempted to smooth her hair, knowing full well she definitely looked and smelled like she had been up to no good. 

“I’m sorry—I have to get to the prefect’s meeting,” she gasped out. 

She could hear students streaming past the door of the compartment. This was not how she had imagined her first day as Head Girl.  

James whipped his head around the compartment a few times before spotting what Lily had thought was a discarded cloak. He picked it up and handed it to her. 

“Here, put this over you as you leave—just trust me. I’m an idiot for not silencing the room—don’t want the Head Girl starting the year with a scandal.”

She looked at him with a furrowed brow, but didn’t have time to question his offer. 

“Potter—I,” There were a billion things to ask him. What did he expect of her now—now that they had at least attempted to shag? Were they going to continue whatever this was? Or was he going to regret all of this once he found out that she was no less confused about what she wanted than before Summer holiday. 

He cut her off. “You can give it back next time.” Next time. So that was at least half an answer to something. 

She threw the cloak over her head, through the small mirror on the wall she saw her reflection disappear. She gasped. 

“How do you—”

“For Merlin’s sake Evans, go. Or I'll lock us back in here.” She looked at him. He couldn’t see her staring, but she saw the pure wanting in his eyes. He looked in pain; completely tortured. 

She opened the compartment door and rushed her way towards her trunks on the back end of the train.

______________________________________________________________________

When she got to McGonagall's classroom, it looked like most everyone was assembled. Remus sat at the front, tapping a cigarette on his knee. At the sight of Lily rushing in, he raised his eyebrows.

“Welcome back, Head Girl.” He stood up in greeting and she gave him a small chaste kiss on the cheek. 

“Ah, fuck Remus. I’m so sodding stupid—I didn’t mean to be late. Did I miss anything?”

Remus shook his head. “Lily, take a breath–do you know you're sweating? Not to be rude or anything—” 

For the first time, Lily looked down at herself. Despite trying to look more presentable, she had clearly broken a sweat between her encounter with James and booking it to the classroom. 

“Don’t worry about it—it’s been one of those days.” Remus nodded. 

“I get that.”

Lily looked down at his chest. A plain prefect insignia was emblazoned on his jumper. 

“It's not you.” She gasped. Remus chuckled, looking down to realize what she was referring too.

“Nope, no. I couldn’t be as lucky, I’m afraid.”

“Then who—” Remus gave her a quizzical look. Then his brow furrowed. 

“Wait, Lily, you’re telling me you don’t know?”

The door slammed open. McGonnagall looked up from the crowd of students and made a dramatic sigh. 

“Thank you for finally joining us Mr. Potter. I know you are new to these things but being Head Boy means you need to learn some punctuality at least.”

Lily felt the whole world crack apart. James walked quickly up to the group. His hair was just as bad as she had left it and he was still adjusting his tie as he walked. 

“Why the sodding hell does he look like that?” Lily heard Remus groan under his breath. So everyone saw it too. 

“Sorry Minnie—uh, prefects. It won’t happen again.” McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him, but let it go. 

“Now in case you haven’t sorted it for yourself, Mr. Potter and Miss Evans are our Head Boy and Head Girl this year. Whenever I am not available, you will report directly to them.”

James pulled the seat out next to Lily. She looked up at him. His eyes were glittering; some of the darkness had subsided, but she could still very much see that the desire was still there. A smirk was plastered on his face. 

“Alright Evans?”  He fucking new all along. The bastard. 

Lily whipped her head to Remus who raised his hands in surrender. “I thought you knew,” he worded to her. 

Lily tried to focus on the meeting. It was taking everything she had not to look over at James. It was obvious he had been doing some sort of heavy petting before getting there. It felt like a huge spotlight was looming down on them. She didn’t know what frustrated her more—that she had just had been robbed of what probably would have been the best orgasm of her life, or that the person who had been doing it never thought to tell her that they would be colleagues for the entire year. 

“....I’m sure you have been hearing the news. Professor Dumbledore and I have a zero tolerance policy on any slurs or attacks that could potentially face the student body this year. I am asking you to be vigilant and look after specifically our younger year muggleborn students and make sure they do not get targeted.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw James' jaw tense. 

“In the case of any incident, a professor needs to be notified immediately, not taken care of by yourself—I hope you are listening well Mr. Potter.”

James' gaze was firm. She could tell he wanted to dissent, but was trying to be good. Hesitantly, she reached a hand under the table and nudged his thigh. His eyes darted to hers and he raised his eyebrows. The darkness in his eyes had not subsided.

The meeting cleared out quickly in order to get to the banquet feast. Lily lingered, watching James stand up slowly and fiddle with his shirt a bit.

“Where were you on the train, mate? And why did you show up like that?” Remus lit a cigarette and looked at James pointedly. 

“Ah, y’know–ran into Morbier and Hill and they wanted to take the piss out of me for losing a quidditch bet over the summer. Got caught up having a laugh.” 

Remus took a drag of the cigarette, not breaking eye contact with him. 

“Right.” He didn’t buy it. 

“I’m gonna go find Sirius and Pete. You both coming?” Remus started walking to the door. 

Lily spoke first, jumping to her feet. 

“ I need to speak to Potter for a second if you don’t mind—you know, about things we could have discussed if I had known he was Head Boy.”

Remus let out a low whistle. “Don’t have too much fun.” He excused himself quickly—feeling the tension rise in the room. 

Once the door was shut. James ran a hand through his hair and turned to Lily. 

“Are you going to yell at me?”

Lily sputtered. She could have killed him. “What do you think, Potter?”

“Brilliant, I can’t wait.” He actually sounded sincere. 

Lily bounded towards him. “Why. didn’t. You. tell. Me?” She clipped every word on its own. 

James made a small smile. “I was busy. With other things.”

“And what was that cloak you had earlier—”

“Ah, let's do one row at a time Evans. That way I can savor it.”

Lily had a million things she wanted to scream at him, but looking at him standing there–looking exactly how he had been on the train—it was too much. 

She put her face in her hands and let out a guttural scream. 

“Yeah, I was feeling that way earlier too. It’ll pass,” he said. She gave him a pointed glare. 

She pulled out the nearest seat and sank into it. James leaned himself on the adjoining table. 

“Do you think anyone heard us—on the train?”

James looked down at his shoes. “Most definitely.”

Lily sank farther in her seat. 

“But don’t worry,” he reassured her, “Anyone who was loitering to see who it was only got a glance at me—if anything they probably think I was wanking in there or something.” Lily snorted. 

There was a silence before Lily ventured. 

“Should we—talk about it?”

“What? My complete abandonment of all of my morals and high ground? Or actual Heads’ duties?”

“You know I mean the former.”

“Right,” James paused for a minute. “I meant what I said—about the love bit…both times—but, I’m also not against suffering. At the moment I guess.”

Lily nodded. 

“But I’m going to need an answer. Something—soon. I need to know if you want to really be with me or not.”

Lily nodded again. 

“But, for now, at least until we can sort out this Heads’ situation—”

“We can tell Sirius.” The words weren’t even fully out of her mouth but James�� face lit up. 

“As long as he is discrete—and doesn’t take the piss out of me too much.”

James swooped down at her and enveloped her into an embrace. He used his position to move her swiftly off the chair and take her stead, placing her onto his lap. He kissed the side of her face and neck enthusiastically. 

“Ok–Ok–Ok, Potter mellow out.” 

“No. Sorry.” His hands moved around her. She was starting to feel the clawing inside her again. She wrapped her hands around him, shifting her body so she was straddling him on the chair. He brushed her hair to the side and brushed his lips against the shell of her ear.

“Just—think about it. You and I. Really together,” he breathed into her ear. He continued.

“I’m reconsidering my reconsideration. I won’t shag you. Not until I get an answer. I’ll do everything else. But I won’t do that.” Lily let out a ragged breath. 

“What constitutes as everything else.” She teased. 

He hummed. “Well take it case by case.”

“Tosser.” 

He laughed in her ear and pulled his face away from hers. 

“Besides, it's not like you can get rid of me,” he kissed the bruise she had forgotten was forming on her neck.

“I’m Head Boy.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

hi! i saw that you wrote a novel (that might be getting published?) and i'm really curious to know what pushed you to start, how was the progress, and do you have an editor + are you self-publishing or are you with a publishing company! writing a novel is a dream of mine but it feel so far-fetched. it's inspiring to see that you've written one, and i would like to know how i might do the same too, if you don't mind sharing! -- @milkstore

hello fellow author <3 im so excited to hear about your dream! there are countless stories out there, but no one can write yours :)

as for what made me start - it was you all. the constant support, love and encouragement, and providing me inspiration and opportunities to practice with characters I love in a world that's fantastical.

my main character was inspired by a genshin OC that I had (Fai) and blossomed into who she is now!

my process was pretty simple really. I started with a general plot. identified what I wanted to happen in the story and the beats (points) i wanted to hit along the way, then I flushed out the two main characters and started writing their story.

after getting draft 0 i realized the plot (especially in the middle) wasn't working. in fact, it suuuucked. so I did some edits, a lot of cutting and rewriting and then I got a beta reader - they liked it, but I didn't - enter my work on draft 3. Now my story has substance, it has way more engagement and a lot better characters.

My next steps will be to read it out loud for another round of edits and - as I go - really ensure my character motivations are in there, the plot (where the whole story ends up) has build-up, and that I'm not going to set myself up for continuity errors. Once that is done I have two options

I can send it off to an editor I found and like, have them look it over and give me feedback - make changes - and then start querying for agents

I found a potential publisher that works with indie authors GreenLeaf Book Group. They might help me with editing, story, and other things if they like what i have - so i can skip some of the steps myself! - They seem very promising and actually may be a good place to start right out of the gate, but I've always been told to never give a publisher nothing (well, unless you're already working with them lol)

From here, the end goal is traditional publishing but i have a few barriers to that. 1. my book is too long, 2. it may not be as engaging as they may like, 2. it's a duology (publishers don't often pick up debut authors that pitch more than one book to them (i.e. they want a standalone before investing their time and money into the book)

Of course, I'll keep you all updated as I go -- you can also follow me on Instagram! I post updates there and information about my book :) --- you can find it via my Author Cardd

I won't gatekeep or tell you this process was easy. It wasn't - but it was rewarding, perfect, and brought me closer to my dream. To be able to look back and tell my younger self we wrote a book is everything to me - her stories deserve to live, as do yours <3

I'm rooting for you.

You got this

OH AND join writing groups! I am now the moderator of one - The Writers Factory. I give lots of advice there and feedback on peoples stories when I can. I also post some writing exercises and other stuff (its not a social discord though - the mods are very strict lol - its for working on your book/story/ect. -- so feel free to join us if this is something you want!)

[stealanity]

hey guys, let's go for a big announcement okay?

so, we're near my three-year anniversary on this blog. the 13th of march will mark the day i posted my first piece of writing on this platform (color palette will forever be my precious baby). and before i say anything about the negative aspects of this post, i would like to thank all the people who have supported me and my work for years / months now. every time i received a little interaction, a little message in my askbox, or feedback about one of my writings, my heart couldn't help but vibrate with happiness. so, i'd like to extend my warmest thanks to everyone who kindly took the time to express their opinions on what i've written over the past three years, these little words mean so much to me, in ways you can't imagine.

and, this is where i'm going to start talking about the negative things i have to say about this post : i'm wondering if i'm going to continue writing and posting here.

for months i've been thinking of closing this blog and stopping writing : as most of you know, tumblr writers complain a lot about the lack of feedback on what we produce. i don't mean to blame you all, but it's a real problem that never ceases to discourage every writer behind the computer. i understand that some of you are shy, and that's perfectly all right : but the askbox anonymity option doesn't exist for nothing. even if you only come to say "your last writing was great" and you think it's lame to leave a message just to say that, tell yourself that this simple little sentence can brighten a writer's day. i know you hear the same thing over and over again, but if a lot of people are talking about it, don't you think that proves that it's a real problem for us?

in other words, the lack of interaction from readers to writers is the biggest pet peeve of writers on this platform. just imagine : you walk into a store, and a writer is alone at his signing table, no one stopping to listen to him talk about the book he wrote with all his heart, sleepless nights spent writing, all so that no one would stop and take an interest in him. how would you feel about this person? you'd be sad and sorry for him, right? well then, tell yourself that, it's exactly like this writer, that we here, as tumblr writers, feel when no one gives us feedback. you feel ignored. we give our time to offer you something to read about your favs, completely free of charge. we give you the opportunity to imagine scenarios, and ask us to write down your ideas precisely, all so that, when your request is granted, we have no feedback on what you thought about it? this won't last much longer, believe me — because little by little, all the writers here are losing hope and patience, and deciding to stop doing what they love just because they're constantly ignored and not thanked for their work and efforts. yet, i know a lot of writers who deserve to be praised and complimented for their talent every second of their existence, and i feel so, so sorry for them that they have to endure such a thing. and, if you look closely, you'll see that it's only the writers themselves who leave feedback on other writers' work — because we know how important it is and how much we need it every day.

which is why i'm announcing today that i'm questioning the future of this blog. i haven't made a decision yet, maybe i'll do it tomorrow or in three months, whatever. but the problem is there, said and repeated, over and over again, and i'm more than discouraged.

nevertheless, thank you to all the writers on this platform for all you do. you sometimes make my heart skip a beat, my eyes water, laugh until i cry and smiling from ear to ear, because you're that good. you're so good at giving people chills and filling their heads with stories, with your perfectly chosen words and your marvelous ideas, each more incredible and interesting than the last. and i'll never stop complimenting the talent of the writers here, because you guys are truly amazing and tumblr wouldn't be the same without you. i know it's hard to evolve here, but know that among all those likes, there's this one reblog that makes all the difference.

you are so brave, and i thank you for always being here to share your talent.

anyway, let's end it here !

thank you for your attention, have a nice day, or night, or anything,

— xoxo, matty

[tododeku-or-bust]

I think what catches some people up when they get feedback is uncertainty for what the course of action is is after being called out as a racist, in-writing, online. An apology on their part isn’t substantial and can reveal further bigoted thinking in the person apologizing, shrinking from their platform looks defensive, and donations/service can be “buying” the apology. It’s the “online” bit in particular that can be hard to navigate: they don’t go away, and being “cancelled” or called out for the same situation further down the line is more likely than not. Denying it feels (and is) easier a lot of the time, but only leads to further harm. In my job, our instructions are to immediately give a simple, intentional apology and wait for inviting cues from the person or people you harmed before you engage with them socially again, but that doesn’t translate online.

I’m sorry y’all have to see this blowback with other people’s feels when *you* are the one wronged.

I hear what you're saying, I do.

And a little bit of me is petty, bc if you're not afraid to be racist online, why are you afraid of the blowback online? But I recognize that's pettiness.

The thing is... People of color often TELL people in these scenarios how to change the behavior. If people actually LISTENED to us, actually built COMMUNITY with people of color, these would occur less. There's been entirely too many conversations on what things people who have been racist can do to make up for their actions. Google is free, and learning how to do research is essential. I don't understand how these situations pop off every two weeks or so and people just... Don't learn from the failures of others. Because regardless of how "hard" it is to navigate, they can either attempt it... Or stay racist. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Now I admit that many times people of color get frustrated and don't want the apology. That's mainly because a lot of these apologies are fragile, meant to save face rather than to show actual remorse. There's a grace expected of us to accept these bullshit apologies that we're running out of. Imo, that's on white people to start confronting other white people- to let each other know that you will not be swayed by pretty ass words, that you care about that accountability. Bc that's who the fake apologies are for!

I personally am running out of grace bc you're right, I am tired of 'be nice to racists'. Y'all's feelings ≠ the harm done. It's why I'm always saying either do better or don't lmao. I'm tired of the performance of progessive-ness. Either get uncomfortable and learn to listen to us when we teach y'all how to do better, or accept that you're gonna get treated with the lack of respect any racist deserves. This repeated song and dance of denial is such an insult to people of color like I cannot keep seeing this shit and maintaining patience 🤣����

I'm just venting atp, I didn't have a real direction here. Thanks for letting me get that out.

[wroteclassicaly]

Welcome to another spotlight post! This community has been having a lot of saddened authors, some being mistreated by their audiences, a majority (if not all), whose work suffers heavily by the lack of reblogs/feedback. And this hurts me deeply, because I know how it feels, but I also know that everyone deserves a chance to shine, and so I’ve decided to do this small feature every week, in hopes that we can get some people and their work circulating? Each Friday night I will feature a different author/fic, as well as publishing suggestions you are welcomed to send for us all to check out (in my inbox). Much love, y’all! 💘

Fic of the week:

Whole Lotta Love by @bettyfrommars

Ooooh my god! As someone who can highly relate to this, it was a refreshing change of pace to see the realism! The softness between the two and the established foundation, made it a perfectly safe read, that I highly recommend!

Author of the week:

@aphrogeneias

This other is one that I really think deserves more attention than they receive! Their writing is a breath of fresh air, and so uniquely put together with an eloquent flow. Definitely recommend!

And that concludes this weeks’ edition of my Friday spotlight! I will have new authors and fics every week (as I said), so be on the lookout! Send in your suggestions! And show these authors some love! 💘

Note: I have read so many amazing fics this week, by authors that I love and admire, so it’s always hard to choose just one, or remember whom I’ve already spotlighted in the past. Always feel free to plug your own work in my inbox, or suggest another author as well! 💋

[sablegear0]

"Why not just write your own stories?"

At time of writing, I am taking an online course about Ethics and Legal Issues in Publishing. I say this as context because the class forum is discussing fan fiction and where it falls in terms of "fair dealing" (the Canadian version of "fair use") and the "moral rights" of a copyright holder to their work (a creator's right to be associated with, and protect the dignity of, their work).

Within this discussion, one of my classmates (who by their own admission is a bit "out of the loop" on this front, they're an older individual who was around before the internet and online fan spaces became a thing) was asking -politely I must note, they were very open to discussion and having their mind changed- about the purpose of fan fiction. They said they don't really understand it. Why write with other people's material? Why not just write your own stories?

To that, I wrote this, which focuses on the why rather than any copyright issues. I just wanted to put out there how I felt about fanfic and the "why" behind it to hopefully show this person where the impulse comes from. What's the purpose of something so legally dubious?

==

I think I might have an answer to "Why not just write your own stories?" and a bit of an explanation of the "purpose" (I guess?) of fanfic from a very fannish angle.

First and foremost: writing is hard. Writing something original is even harder. That's part of why I'm not writing "my own stories" (insofar as original characters and plots, more on that in a moment). Part of the appeal of fanfic is that someone has already done a good chunk of the world building, plot development, characterization, and audience investment for you. It's easy to jump right into the kind of story you want to tell when you're borrowing elements the audience is already familiar with to tell it. It's a bit like playing with toys in that sense; a Barbie's harrowing expedition to the top of bookshelf-Mount-Everest is more compelling because we have a sense of who Barbie is already.

Second, and perhaps most significantly, the vast majority of fan fiction is an expression of love for the original material. Getting to glorify or explore characters you've come to love, giving plot points and characters the time you feel they deserve is satisfying. In this sense, fanfic is often born of a desire for more. And if the fandom can't get more from the source, they'll make their own from scrap. Many fanfic stories fill in what the writer considers "gaps" in the canon, or explore relationships or elements of a character that may be implied (or the fan feels are implied; re-interpretations and "head-canons" abound in fan spaces) but not explicitly explored in canon. Or they can be "fix it" fics, in which nobody dies or tragedies or undone - which may undermine the grand literary intent of some events, but sometimes you just want to see your favourite character get a happy ending because they're your favourite!

Fanfic can also be an exercise in writing techniques and style, which is primarily how I use it (the audience comes free with the territory! The feedback not so much, but not everyone is a literature critic...). After the purpose of general appreciation, I've found the second biggest purpose of fanfic is so the writer can work through something. Try out a style or explore some thought or issue or realization in their own life. They do so through the lens of familiar characterizations but by introducing new themes, new issues, new twists. In this way the fan writers are "writing their own stories". Many of these exploratory pieces can get quite personal! (I have also done this.) They're just using established elements as a kind of shorthand, so the audience understanding is already there when they begin a story exploring something like trauma or identity or grief.

So fan fiction is a lot of things to fans: it's an open forum for discussion, it's a common language, it's a sandbox full of toys, it's an art gallery, it's graffiti on the works in the art gallery, it's a modern retelling of a period piece, it's a historical recasting of a digital-age story, it's a band-aid, it's therapy, it's practice - but most of all, for a lot of us, it's just how we show our love.

[cevansbrat0007]

Any tips on how to get more eyes and reblogs on your fics? I try not to be discouraged when something I think is good doesn’t really get the shine it deserves but it’s also hard not to let it get to you sometimes.

Am I being ridiculous?

Howdy friend! I'm sorry that you're finding yourself feeling discouraged here and then. It happens to the best of us, and you're certainly not alone.

Of course it's important to remember that you should always write for yourself first. That said, it can still be disheartening when you perceive there to be a lack of engagement with a piece or series that you've poured your heart and soul into.

But don't stress too much. Because that might affect your desire to write at all. And that would really stink.

I would suggest that you take some time to interact with other writers and creators. Sometimes leaving feedback and showing support can often result in others returning the favor.

It's crucial that writers support other writers. And even I'm guilty of lurking sometimes when I should be sharing. I'm working on that myself.

Another thing you could do is poll your audience. Ask them about what they might like to see.

And when you do get reblogs, there is absolutely nothing wrong with responding to the person who shared or commented on your content with another reblog.

Also, check the tags you're using. Make sure they are spelled correctly and that they apply to the content you're producing. If your story isn't tagged properly, people might not see it.

Lastly...

Be proud of yourself. Remember that this should be fun. Most of us do this for free because we enjoy it. I'm sure you're doing a phenomenal job.

I hope that helps. Thanks for the ask and have a good night!

[spookyserenades]

Dana!!! I hope you're feeling better and I can't thank you enough for giving us trouville for FREE!! We're truly spoiled with this story 😔 some thoughts:

- the Jimin moment was so sweet, I love our yeehaw boy. I'll kiss his boo boos away any day and i'd also sick him with the hello kitty bandaid too cuz we live an aesthetic lifestyle

- love the mystery gang team, so much development in their segment, its crazy what a late night van drive will do to people lol

- i like also got a headache when MC was thinking about how much a Disney trip for 8 people would cost. In THIS economy? Sorry Hoseok you're just gonna have to freeze. I know she must have a lot saved up from when she was a vet but paying for a house that big and for so many people? She's a money mastermind

- Alice is such a fun character, I'm glad she suggested making the boys jealous so they'd maybe be kicked into high gear, she's doing the lord work cuz we were all thinking it. What more shenanigans will this open us up to 🤔👀

- I stg I'm ot7 but jeezus trouville yoongi does in fact own my entire being, I want him in a way concerning to feminism and so does MC lol. That spicy part was everything but I was so scared someone would walk in on them but thankfully that didn't happen, I would have freaked!!!!

- Jin and MC cooking!!!! Thats my husband fr and speaking of which- WE GOT HIM BOYS, THATS ANOTHER ONE IN THE BAG!!!!!!!! WE'RE 2 FOR 7 ON BAGGING THE TROUVILLE BOYS!!! 😤😤😤 IT FEELs SO GOOD 😫😫😫 THE WAY I SCREECHED. So so so so so good. Perfect place to leave us for next chapter I'm extremely excited! ❤

- 🍒

AHH HI LOVE! I am finally feeling better whewww boy I forgot what it's like to be sickly LMAO. Excited to hear your thoughts about the newest update hehe, thank you for reading and sending in your precious feedback 🥺

I love the little moments MC has with Jimin!!! I hope he's giving hopeless romantic in Trouvaille, I think it's fitting for his rancher background, and his Libraness fhdksafd. I also love the visual of manly cowboy Jimin with the Hello Kitty bandaid, he probably looked down at it a bunch afterwards and blushed thinking about MC AHHHH!! The mystery gang, omg. My literal DREAM is to formulate a paranormal investigation team, ESPECIALLY with Namkook. Just having Joon's insightfulness and Jeongguk's fearlessness I think it would be absolutely perfect. I can't wait to write more about their adventures in all of the upcoming chapters!

HA SCREAMINGGGG No like she'd need a small loan of a million dollars for a Disney trip with all of them. It would be such a cute little drabble or plot arc to write though, all of them going on rides and whatnot. Or spicy hotel smut lol Lucky MC inherited that house from her grandparents, and her dad ended up being wealthy from his contributions to hybrid cardiology surgery, so she was pretty much born into deep pockets LOL... that's the beauty of fiction, we get to pretend we were born into bottomless wealth 💀

AH I'm so glad you like Alice 🥺 It was important to me that MC had other friends besides the hybrids! You need some friends to confide in, not just romantic interests, and MC's friends are supportive but also give her reality checks when she needs them. Alice is soooo real for telling her use jealousy to her advantage, considering MC is a little avoidant of confrontation LOL.

fdkasf BESTIE I'm hyung line (Namjoon ult) biased, and Trouvaille Yoongi is seriously trying to snatch me away from my other three. I, too, need him biblically, and would let him have his way with me 💀 AH the smut.... he's such a giver, definitely a soft dom 🥰 I'd dieeee too if one of the others walked in. Thankfully, they were the only two at home during that scene!

JINNIE COOKING CLASS. I love love lovedddd writing that scene, Seokjin is such husband material and especially in Trouvaille, he deserves to have fun with a new hobby 🥺 AND FINALLY ANOTHER CONFESSION!!!! Seokjin hasn't been subtle with his feelings, especially in the past few chapters, so I'm glad he was finally brave enough to fess up. MC was probably relieved that she didn't have to do it first 😭💀 AH I'm excited to see how she reacts in the next chapter hehee!

Thank you for reading the latest update and sending me all of your thoughts bestie 💜💜💜