#this was written in like 20 minutes and i am Very Tired

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Fate Fought For

How heartfelt. This is part 19 of 20. We tie up loose ends.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Knock, knock.

Crowley’s knuckles pause. He waits, straining his ear, waiting for a reply—or at least some sign of life.

His niece has been holed up in her room for the past… He has lost track of how long. The few times she has emerged, she is progressively more and more haunted. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, a hollow expression.

She had stopped leaving entirely for three whole days.

He knocks again, this time calling out. His voice is thin and desperate.

“Raven-kun? Raven-kun, are you awake…? It’s your dear old uncle!”

The panic sets in when he’s met with silence. He fiddles with the doorknob, then feels for the keys dangling from his waist.

“Young lady!! I am respecting your privacy but asserting my authority as your guardian by coming in anyway!!” he crowed, inserting a skeleton key into the lock and turning.

The door swings open.

His jaw drops.

“Wh-What happened here?!”

The place is a terrible mess, even moreso than usual. Bookcases have toppled over, their contents spilling and making the floor a maze of covers and pages to wade through. Handprint-shaped ink stains paint the walls, as if a ghoul were desperately trying to claw out from the underworld. And there, in the center of the wreck, is a small body slumped over a writing desk.

Crowley rushes to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. But he sees the quill jutting out of her left hand and startles.

“R-Raven-kun?!”

“… Mmmm…”

Raven shifts under his touch. Her eyes flutter, and he sees the warm honey rings of her irises. Tired, but still bright.

“… Uncle? What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know!!” He jabbed a finger at her injured hand. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself, silly girl! Hold still. We must treat this immediately.”

Crowley raises his walking stick and gives it a wave. Items from a first aid kit materialize and float down.

He sets to his work, using a clean cloth to apply pressure to the injury site. Raven squeals, but plays the part of a good patient by squeezing her eyes shut and bearing with it. The blackened ooze breaks.

Then comes the water, a small sterile stream from midair rinsing off the area. A bottle of ointment uncaps and applies itself—she winces. The quill slowly unlodges, magic suspending the bodily fluids until a fresh dressing is applied neatly over top.

Raven watches in quiet awe.

“There we are.” Crowley gentle pats the bandaged hand. “Now then, would you mind explaining yourself?”

Raven blinks. “… Sometimes I forget what a powerful mage you are.”

“Hmm? Oh—well…!!” The headmaster flushes. “It’s not everyday that I receive such kind praise!!”

He stops.

“W-Wait just a minute, don’t change the subject!” He indicates the room. “What happened here last night?!”

Raven lowers her gaze to the papers at her desk. Crowley follows it, coming across a paper stained a brilliant sky blue. Hastily scribbled over it, as if written by the hand of a madman, is three lines.

But she still dared to dream.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

“I wrote my magnum opus with my blood, sweat, and tears,” Raven says very quietly. “The only story I know how to tell from beginning to end. Mine.”

She tries to rise from the desk and nearly careens to one side. Crowley catches her and tuts.

“You need to lie down and rest, some food in your belly as well!” he lightly scolds. “Here, come to your bed.”

Raven clutches onto him tightly. Using him as an anchor, she hoists herself up on trembling feet.

“… I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I have to…” She shakes her head. “There are things I must tend to first. A blue letter in my drawer that needs to be read, classmates I must talk to..."

“Not in that state, you won’t!! You'll stay put until further notice. To your bed--I'll brew you a cup of tea, perhaps that will whet your appetite. Maybe some rice porridge after?" Crowley coos, smoothed her hair down. “With sunny side egg eyes and a bacon smile!”

She peers up at him. Her cheeks are wet with trails of tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear! You're crying now?" He cups her face and brings her to his chest. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

"N-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just..." Raven wipes at her eyes, sniffling loudly. "Uncle, you…”

“Is it something I’ve done? Come, out with it.”

There’s a nervous, stuttery laugh.

“You really are so very, very kind. And your hands... Have they always been this warm?"

Raven leans into his palm and openly weeps.

He lets her.

She’s definitely a goner now,” a mob student declares. “It’s been weeks.“

The comment is made in 1-A's homeroom, in the hallways, in the courtyard and cafeteria, all over campus. Kon leaves his classes with a weight on his chest, pushing the breath out of him.

He doesn’t want it to be the end, not like this. Not when what he last recalls of her is an unanswered question, a hand left untaken. And a girl petrified, as if the blade of a guillotine loomed above her.

I hope she’s okay.

“Kon?”

He lifts his head. To either side of him are his friends—students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, respectively. Cyril, pale with his fluffy violet mop and Augustine, tanned and dirty blonde hair cut short.

“Something up?” Augustine asks, digging an elbow into his side. “You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“I’m thinking about… stuff.”

“Your missing classmate?” Cyril suggests. For as long as Kon has known him, he’s been good at reading people. Guessing, Cyril calls it—but he’s always been humble.

“This again? You shouldn’t waste your energy on that. She’s a lost cause,” Augustine snips. He’s gruffer that Cyril and Kon combined, quick to cut to the chase. “And anyway, it’s not like you were super close or anything.”

“Well, no. But it still doesn’t feel good, knowing the person you sit next to in class is… There’s an empty seat. It’s sad.”

It’s lonely.

“Accept it and move on, bro. Wherever she is, whatever happened to her, she’s not comin’ back.

“Are you sure?” Cyril squints into the distance. “… But isn’t that her right now? The one running around over there.”

“What?” Kon throws his gaze across the courtyard.

A black bundle darts from student to student, pigtails whipping back and forth. She stops before each person, her mouth a burst of movement. The girl executes a bow, then goes to the next student.

“R-Raven-san?!”

She turns in the direction of her name. Smiles, then begins making her way toward him.

Kon gulps. “You’re… okay.”

“Yes. I had to take some much needed time off. Headmaster’s orders,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand.

Her cheeks are pink, eyes rimmed red, forehead coated with a light shine. Has she been running around for a while? Kon wonders. Or… crying? Both?

“Th-That’s a relief.” He attempts to return her smile.

Raven passes a look between Cyril and Augustine. “… Oh, are these the friends you told me about?“

“Y-Yeah. Um…” Kon gestures vaguely at them. “Cy is a second year in Scarabia. August is a third year in Pomefiore. Guys, this is Raven-san from my class.”

Cy waves.

August gives a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Raven chirps. Again, she bows. “Starting today…! I hope we can have a strong working relationship!”

The mob students stare at her. “Uh…okay?”

“You too, Kon-san!”

“E-Eh, me?!”

“Of course.” She rights herself. “You’re important too. Let’s all get along!”

With that, Raven bounds off, leaving the confused mob students. Her heart skips, matching her frantic paces. Feeling so free.

She stops whenever she spots someone. Teacher, student, ghost. An introduction offered, followed by a hopeful wish.

“Let’s all get along!”

Raven clears the Main Building, exiting into the spring time.

The air is sweet and whipped airy like a mousse. The sun is out, lighting errant pink petals on the wind.

Another day, priceless.

How pretty.

“The apple blossoms are beautiful,” a soft voice remarks, echoing her sentiments.

In the corner of her vision, a shape shifts into view.

It’s a lady with a flowery parasol, her gown a deep emerald hue. Her hair is golden, some of it done up in a milkmaid’s braid, the rest falling in waves down her back. A pearly shimmer radiates from her delicate, pixie-like features—button nose, rose cheeks, rounded eyes. One deep violet eye peers at her, the other half of her face covered by a swoop of flaxen locks.

Wow, Raven marvels, it’s like a storybook princess came to life.

“They are,” she manages as politely as she can.

“Ah, my apologies,” the lady gasps, fingers knitting over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was that you were doing. Student life must be so busy."

"Oh no, it's fine!" Raven stammers. She feels compelled to drop to a curtsey before her. "You must be from Foothill Town...?"

"From beyond that," she says mysteriously. "I've come to see someone. An old acquaintance, one might say--but they aren't expecting it. I know them, but they do not know me."

Raven tilts her head. "That’s a strange conundrum. Do you need help locating them? I may not be the best with directions, but I’m certain I could at least escort you to a help desk.”

She giggles. “They needn’t be aware. After all… I have already been watching from afar for quite some time.”

“You have?” A vague sensation trails along Raven’s back. Light taps, as if her spine is a xylophone being played. “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They did.” Her single violet eye shuts. “… It was not the ending I was expecting. They defied my expectations of them.”

There is no fire to her words. No ice either. She is devoid of feeling.

Raven doesn’t know why, but she shivers in the middle of that spring day.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks hesitantly.

The stranger tilts her parasol down, shielding her expression from view. “It is simply ‘a thing’. It would not be wise to invest too much of oneself in what is only a story.”

A story?

Raven’s ears perk, her eyes blowing wide.

“… What did you just say?”

But when she looks back at the stranger, they are already gone. Vanished without a trace on a warm wind.

Raven clutches her heart. She has not noticed until now—it is at a gallop.

“Who was that…?”

In the midst of judging the wildflowers cut for the lounge, Vil is called away from his work. He turns away from the crystal vases and moving to receive the surprise guest.

The rain had come in the afternoon. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Hard and rhythmic against their pointed turrets. If the lack of appointment didn't deterred visitors, then the weather most definitely would have.

The double doors open to reveal a small figure. She is drenched to the bone, her feathers and hair sodden, flat with water weight.

“Shetland potato.” Vil’s hands find his hips. If he has sympathy for waterlogged animals, he doesn't show it in his stern glare. "It has been some time. What brings you to Pomefiore, hmm? Are you looking to resume your etiquette lessons with me, since it seems you haven’t the manners to know it’s highly inappropriate to appear unannounced?”

“U-Um…! I know it's rude of me, but could I possibly come in? I'll be quick--there's something I'd like to tell you and Rook-senpai--and Epel-san too, if he's around. Then I'll be out of your feathers."

Vil looks at her long and hard.

Finally, a sigh.

"... Quickly, you said? Then make it quick. And you're going to catch a dreadful cold walking around like that. I'll call for a towel and hair dryer."

"Here you are, Roi du Poison!" a chipper voice pipes up, producing the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Rook," Vil replies nonchalantly, accepting them. The dorm leader ignores Raven's gaping mouth and hand-waves her inside. The huntsman moves to close the door after her. "He has excellent hearing," Vil explains, "and comes promptly when summoned. Spend enough time with him and you'll get used to it."

("Bonjour, mon petit oiseau!" he whispers.)

They herd Raven to a stool ("Not on the couches! You'll get them all wet!") and proceed to dry her off, as promised. Ruffling fabric and the low hum of the dryer fill the lounge, shutting off only when Vil is satisfied. Throughout the entire process, Rook hovers at a distance as if he is a theatre patron watching a show.

Finished, Vil passes her a mirror, granting her a few merciful moments to admire how he has blown out her curls. She oohs and aahs at her reflection.

"... Now then, what is it that you wanted to say?"

Raven almost drops the mirror. She's thankful that she's able to get a strong grip on its handle. Seven years of bad luck, avoided.

"Oh! Er... I-I wanted say thank you."

Vil lifts a brow.

"For everything you've done for me," Raven continues anxiously. "I don't think I've ever had to chance to properly express my gratitude.

"So thank you. Vil-senpai, for giving me pointers on how to be more ladylike. Rook-senpai, for your support when I was going through a hard time. I'm... so grateful that I can be here with everyone."

"Oh la la!" Rook throws both of his hands up. His expression is one of alarm, but not displeasure. "Mon petit oiseau, I had sensed that something was different about you from the moment you strode in. Could it be...?"

"E-Eh?!"

Raven is rugged off the stool, swept up into his arms. Rook pulls her into a twirl, letting her feathers fly. She dizzies, her feet tangling--but he steadies her, catching her hands.

"It is!" Rook declares giddily. "You've been freed--found yourself at last. I know it."

"You're going to make her motion sick," Vil warns pointedly.

The huntsman gives a musical laugh. He doesn't release his grip on her. Instead, he lowers himself, peeking into Raven's confused amber eyes.

"You still have someone else to speak with, non?" Rook says it like a suggestion. A secret, shared between the two of them. "Go to him. Let him know how you feel."

"... Yes, I'll do just that." She squeezes his fingers. "Thank you again for everything, senpai."

"Fufufu. Please, don't mention it." He pulls back. "I wish you nothing but the best."

Vil is silent as he watches Raven drift for the exit. She pushes the door open, and sunshine spills inside. The sky is blue, and he hears faint birdsong.

The rain has stopped.

Raven doesn't look back as she closes the door behind her. Her vision is focused only on what lies ahead.

"... You're fine with letting her go like this?" Vil asks of Rook. "Surely a huntsman would fight tooth and nail to keep ensnared prey from fleeing the trap."

"You're mistaken, Roi du Poison." He raises an arm, as if performing to a stage. "There is joy to be found in witnessing the ones we love at their happiest. Raven-kun now knows where that happiness lies--and I am content with that."

Vil frowns. "You're truly an incomprehensible man."

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 15

i am very concerned about everything going on with Hot Sauce right now. she knows something is up with Angel, she was at the burnings, she’s looking out of the window for something. i really hope she hasn’t gotten caught up in anything to do with BoE, or some other kind of conflict, i don’t think it will end well for her 

once again i adore the dynamics at play here with Hot Sauce’s little gang. and once again something that is written in a way that makes it initially funny but becomes very sad when you think about it, Honesty doesn’t take the painkillers for his black eye so that he can sell them

Angel is getting progressively more tired and less put together, and was dropped off by someone in a car - i wonder if this has anything to do with when she had mentioned being not quite a doctor, potentially she was some kind of medic in a military context? also i initially make short comments in physical handwriting on my copies before typing them up, and no joke it took me a good five minutes plus rereading all the descriptions of Angel so far to realise that i had written the word ‘doctor’ and not something unintelligible like ‘cleerr’ 

no-one coming to pick Nona up is somehow incredibly ominous, i have a very bad feeling about it given we last saw Camilla and Pyrrha tied up in a BoE van, with no guarantee they made it back 

oh and we have what is possibly an actual name for Angel, Aim. though Aim could still be a nickname for something else 

there’s a lot of mentions of food so far, and what Nona does/doesn’t want to eat. Nona only seems to hate eating actual food, and is fine with eating objects e.g., a pencil, which makes me wonder if thats somehow linked to chapter 7, where Nona mentions being hungry in the dream. and wayyy back in John 20:8 he talks about he and mysterious-Halecto-narrator being hungry ‘rarely’. 

huh, i wonder why Nona is so insistent that Hot Sauce shouldn’t use the term necromancers? ‘zombie’ i can understand, but even Gideon (and Harrow i think?) use the term necromancers and it doesn’t seem to be anything rude. unless it’s a slightly different term with different meanings in whatever language Hot Sauce/the whole city is speaking 

Nona and Hot Sauce are being very quiet and secretive talking about BoE, so it seems to be not quite as open a topic as i had thought. and given that Hot Sauce likely isn't involved with BoE given her apparent dislike of them, i hope she hasn't gotten involved with someone worse or more dangerous

and poor Hot Sauce, she’s seen an awful lot. i can understand why she hates necromancers so much, the description of how they used exploding bodies as lures is just horrifying 

not ‘The Secret’™. i wonder if its about the fact that she can hear the RB? but then Hot Sauce makes a comment about the ‘organ market’ … i’m guessing it has to do with the little mentions of how Nona is unhealthy in some way. and it’s not good that apparently she really doesn’t want to admit it to anyone else, not even Palamedes who could possibly help

Nona’s relationship with Hot Sauce is really very sweet, but given the reality of what/who Nona is vs how much Hot Sauce despises necromancy to the point of calling the BoE ‘zombie lovers’, i’m very worried about what’s going to happen to them in the future

[127tyong]

Sticker

Pairing: Taeyong X Reader

Genre: Smut, Childhood Friends AU, Reader is in her 20s, Caught Masturbating (Taeyong)

Warnings: (This is so vanilla. Like, the most vanilla shit I've ever written. It's just sex y'all.)

Word Count: 3k

In your eyes, Taeyong was practically a baby. You grew up living in the same neighborhood as him, and would constantly go to his house after school. You always had a key to wherever he was living, even after you both entered the workforce and were adults, you would still go to his house and spend time with him, comforting each other.

You would never admit this, since Taeyong was such a nerd, but you always thought he was cute. After all, you spent your entire life with him, watching his highs and lows. Something about him made you giggle and your heart palpitate.

But today, after work, you went to his house, wanting to drink with him since you were stressed out, but he wasn’t home. Slipping off your heels, you massaged your feet through your stockings. Finally deciding to just go through his manga collection, you laid on his bed, and flipped through a random edition of  “One Piece,” of which Taeyong owned the entire collection.

After about 30 minutes, you heard the front door click open, then lock shut as Taeyong returned home. “You’re here?” Taeyong asked from the living room after he saw your shoes by the door.

“Yeah!” You called back, not wanting to move from the warmth of his bed.

“Ugh, I'm so tired…” Taeyong mumbled as he walked through the door, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Taeyong’s eyes widened after he saw you on his bed. “What are you doing? You’re breaking the spine!” Taeyong ran to grab the book from you, but you pushed him away.

“God… you’re such a fucking nerd.” You scoffed as Taeyong practically got on his knees and whined, begging you to give him the manga back.

“Excuse me, I prefer the term “otaku”, thank you very much!” Taeyong rolled his eyes. “Now let go!” His face was resting on your stomach as he shook your arms.

You tossed the paperback book onto his bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey! That’s my precious Nami cover page!” Taeyong scurried to pick up the book and placed it back onto his bookshelf.

“You only like her because she has big boobs.” You scoffed. 

“No, it’s not like that!” He sighed, joining you under the covers of his twin sized bed, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “Besides, she’s not even my ideal type.”

“Whatever you say.” Sighing, you pat Taeyong’s head. He always did need more comforting than anyone else you had ever been friends with. The whiny, clingy, version of Taeyong remained the same even after all these years.

Taeyong rubbed his face on the collar of your button up shirt, his arms tightening around your waist. “Am I hurting you?” And kind of, he was practically resting all of his body weight on your chest. He was way too comfortable with lying on your boobs as a grown man. 

“Ugh, you should really buy a bigger bed, you have a huge bedroom just to fill it up with manga and figures. How are you planning on ever getting married?” You ran your hands through his hair, your fingernails scratching his head.

Taeyong sat up, getting off you. He slid his glasses back on and brushed his hair back into place. “Do you want to drink with me?”

Taeyong snorted, shifting to look you in the eye. “You really think I’ll get married?”

You pulled his glasses off and fluffed his hair up. “You know, you’d look really good if you actually wanted to…” Your hands slid down his cheeks, your palms cupping his jaw, feeling the sharp bone on your fingertips. Biting your lip, you really thought he looked good, even with his glasses on. He couldn't hide his pretty face behind thick glasses frames or a messy haircut, and you knew it.

~

Taeyong swallowed another shot, the bottle practically empty. He was sitting on his living room floor, a movie playing in the background.

“Tyong, don’t you think that's enough?” Sitting on the couch behind him, you only let yourself take a few sips of your drink, not letting your eyes leave Taeyong, worried he would do something stupid the moment you did.

He was always like this… Never able to feel how drunk or high he was until he was past the point of no return. You had many memories of him in college where he poured 4 shots of vodka into his Coke, saying it wasn’t even strong, then blacking out in the living room, passing out, waking up, and finally joining you in your bed.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” You helped him stand up, his arm around your shoulders. 

You grabbed the bottle from him. “Yongie, that’s enough.”

“You’re no fun!” He whined, his head hitting your knee.

Taeyong whined, his voice almost grating. “No…! Stay and drink with me!”

You sighed, dragging Taeyong into his bedroom. “Fuck!” You stubbed your toe against his dresser. You dropped Taeyong, instinctively grabbing your toe. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” You looked down at Taeyong, who was too drunk to realize you had even dropped him, and you tossed him onto his bed. You unbuttoned his shirt for him, trying to get him comfortable so he could sleep.

“Do my pants.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his arm.

“No, I don’t really want to.” You sighed. 

“Fine.” He went under his blanket and took his pants off himself.

“I’m going home.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with drunk Taeyong anymore.

“No..!” He whined, sitting up. “Come here.”

How could you say no to that face? “Fine. Only until you sleep.” You took your bra and stockings off, then joined him. 

You sat on the edge of his bed, tucking him into bed. “Good night, Taeyong.”

He grabbed onto your wrist before you could even stand up. “Just until I sleep?” He begged, pouting.

His hot breath was next to your face, and it was sick how naturally his arm wrapped around your waist. It was disgusting how Taeyong made your heart flutter, but he didn’t even think twice about you. You knew he only cared about two things, himself, and his manga collection. But even still, you let yourself imagine what it would’ve been like if Taeyong liked you back, so you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

~

“Shit. Fuck. What did I do?” You felt Taeyong sit up next to you, his arms ripping off your waist.

“What?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up.

Taeyong ran out of bed, quickly grabbing some pants out of his closet. “Did we… uh…” 

“What? No. You were drunk. Besides, I don’t think you could fuck me even if you were sober.” You pulled the covers up over your chest. “Can I steal some clothes? I have work in…” You grabbed your phone off the charger. “40 minutes.”

“Yeah, I think I have some of your clothes from the last time you slept over.” Taeyong looked in his dresser, tossing you one of your old shirts and skirts. 

“Do you mind if I wear some of your boxers?” You hooked your bra back on, watching Taeyong go through his closet.

“I’m sorry?” Taeyong deeply exhaled.

“Well, it’s not like I can wear these panties for a 2nd day. Besides, you wash your underwear… right?” You buttoned your shirt up.

“Um…” Taeyong tossed a pair of black boxers at you. “I’m gonna shower… or something.” He left you in his room, waving his hand around.

You got dressed and made your way to his bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Taeyong screamed, his shower curtain blocking your view of him, but he stuck his head out.

“I just need to brush my hair and my teeth! You don’t mind if I use your toothbrush, right?” You started to comb your hair with his brush.

“I guess not? Just get out!” Taeyong retracted his head back into the shower.

You brushed your teeth. “You’re the best! I’m gonna head out after this!”

~

“Fuck, I forgot my phone.” You realized when you were already at work.

You decided to head back to Taeyong's house during your lunch break.

When you went inside, you tried to be as quiet as possible, so as to not scare any of his neighbors, but you assumed Taeyong was still at work.

When you went into Taeyong’s room, you were unprepared for what you saw.

“Fuck! What are you doing Taeyong?” You hissed at him.

He was laying on his bed, cock in his hand, cum dripping all over his abs and fingers. And in his other hand were your panties, pressed against his face like a pervert. Whiny moans, moaning your name escaped his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry!” Taeyong jumped up, trying to walk towards you. 

You instinctively backed up, not knowing what to say. If he was a teenage boy, you could make an excuse for him, saying he’s just a kid… But he’s nearly 30, and you know he wasn’t even a virgin, since you both lost your virginity in high school. You really didn’t think he even masturbated while thinking about actual girls, assuming he just watched hentai. And you certainly didn’t think he masturbated while thinking about you. 

So, you mumbled the only thing you could really think at that point. “You’re gonna get cum on me.”

Taeyong sighed and slid some pants on and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

You grabbed your phone off the floor and nearly ran out of his house.

“Wait!” Taeyong called after you.

You waved him off, not even wanting to make eye contact with him.“Taeyong, I really don’t wanna talk to you-” 

He grabbed your shoulder, stopping you. 

“Tae-” You sighed, your hand already on the doorknob, ready to leave.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in a back hug. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “You know that right?”

“I have to go to work.” You sighed, sliding your phone into your jacket pocket.

“I’m really sorry, I promise I am, I promise I will never do that again…” You felt tears on your neck, and the water on Taeyong’s hands made your stomach cold.

He was so pathetic, like a little baby begging his mommy for forgiveness after breaking a vase. 

You turned around and kissed the tears off his cheeks, petting his head, soothing him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

That was a lie. A ball of anger, frustration, and nerves started filling your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but it didn’t let you. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you forced yourself to face Taeyong and hug him.

“I’m sorry…” He whined, holding onto your waist.

“I know, but you understand that was hard for me to walk in on, right?” You tried to pull away from the hug, but his grip didn’t loosen. His boner kept poking you, rubbing against your stomach. You wondered how he could be hard in this situation, in front of you after you saw that… Your cheeks flushed, not knowing how to handle the thought of Taeyong fucking you, his moans so raw and pathetic, his head thrown back. “Taeyong, let go, I have to go back to work…”

“No.” He whined into your ear. 

You sighed, pulling out your phone and texting your boss something urgent came up at home and you wouldn’t be able to come back, which was only a half lie. “Fine…”

“You know I love you, right?” Taeyong kissed your neck, tickling you. He pushed you against the front door, pinning you there. You silently wondered when he’d let you go, his hands falling down your back and onto your hips, his chin still resting on your shoulder.

“Of course, I love you too.” You pat his back, wishing he’d get off you. 

“Would you… suck me off?” Taeyong finally let go of you, taking half a step back.

“What? Taeyong, I think you’ve just been single too long…” You shook your head, forcing it to clear of any impure thoughts, any hope, any expectations.

Taeyong’s thumb glazed over your lips, his fingers gently brushing over your neck, making you look up into his eyes. Eyes that lost their innocent, child-like look, and that have turned dark, lustful. Lustful for you. “Don’t you want me?”

“Taeyong, let's stop this already…” You mumbled through Taeyong’s thumb.

Taeyong’s lips made contact with your neck, licking its most sensitive spot. “I don’t think you really want to.” He was gentle, sweetly sucking, making you press your head back, your back arching.

A whiny voice escaped your throat, a voice you never knew you could make. You clutched onto Taeyong’s waist, your fingers digging into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling him towards you. 

You felt Taeyong’s lips curl into a smirk on your neck. His hands swept down to your shirt collar, unbuttoning your shirt, then sliding towards your back to unhook your bra. His hands explored your body, a body he’s touched multiple times, yet he’s touching you as if it was his first. Squeezing your breasts in his hands, then immediately going under your skirt, rubbing your clit through his boxers.

“Can’t believe you’re wearing my boxers… Fucking hell.” Taeyong gritted his teeth, pushing your shoulders down, forcing you on the floor.

You slid his sweatpants down, his cock slapping his stomach before hitting your lips. Licking the cum off his dick, you let yourself swallow everything, looking up at Taeyong. Kissing the tip of his cock, you gently edged him, licking, kissing, but not actually sucking it.

Taeyong laughed to himself, biting his lip. “Fuck… the girl I was just masturbating to is on her knees in front of me…” His pretty moans kept you going, cockhead nearly turning purple from being teased from your kisses. “Ugh, hurry up, please…” He groaned, words stretched out from throwing his neck back.

“Why should I?” You spoke, his dick still on your lips, causing the soundwaves of your voice to vibrate against him. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me today, so why should I?”

“You’re too fucking mean… Watched me humiliate myself and still won’t help me…” Taeyong’s hands reached the back of your head, fingers interlaced into your hair. “I’ll do it myself then.” 

Your lips parted on their own, throbbing cock sliding into your mouth. He started gentle, not wanting to hurt you, but he gradually let himself go, thrusting harder down into your throat, hitting the back. Choking on it caused your eyes to start tearing up, the sloppy sound of your saliva echoing in his living room. You slapped on his thighs, trying to get him to stop, his grip on your hair just tightening. Taeyong thrusted thrice, before pulling out and squirting his cum on your lips and cheeks.

You coughed a bit, stroking your throat to help the feeling of an abused throat go away. “Taeyong! What the fuck?”

“You look cute when you’re covered in my cum.” Taeyong went into the kitchen then tossed you a towel.

Wiping your face off, you lazily stood up, going back into Taeyong’s bedroom, tossing yourself onto his bed, Taeyong following. “I was right.”

“I’m gonna fuck the source of my horny dreams.” Taeyong mumbled, biting his lip. 

“About what?” Taeyong watched you undress yourself, tossing your clothes on the floor.

“It’s going to be hard to have sex on a twin sized bed, you should’ve bought a king, or queen at least…” You pulled down the boxers you were wearing, sliding onto your hands and knees. “Are you ready?”

He hurriedly slid his length inside you, plunging in. Hands grabbed around your waist, forcing you up, pressing his body into yours, lips nibbling at your neck and ear. Taeyong’s long, longer and harder than a man who’s came a thousand times already should be. Fucking you like a virgin, like he’s never fucked a girl before, whiny, pathetic, moaning your name into your ear, ragged, unpredictable thrusts, hurting your core. His hands made their way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. “Do you feel good?” He asked between heavy breaths, the heat of his gasps for air on your neck. He felt like his dick would melt inside you, sucking him in, so warm. He swore he could feel your heartbeat while he was inside you, your legs shaking and vibrating from how aroused you were. 

It was nearly idiotic of him to even ask, your cries louder than his moans, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. He was too much, doing everything he could to make you climax all at once. “Fuck! Yes!” You screamed at him, about to cry from how good you felt all at once. It was almost sickening how even while having sex with you, he still wanted to make sure you felt good, and how he didn’t even realize how much you liked it…

“So much better than I ever dreamed of.” Taeyong’s fingers are covered in your juices, making him lick them. “Taste even better.” Your neck was bitten up, hickeys that wouldn’t go away for weeks, and trailed down to your shoulder. 

You wondered if Taeyong felt the same way about you… If he loved you the way you loved him, if you were the last thought he had before he went to bed, and the first in the morning… Wanton moans in your ear made your fears subside, figuring he could only act like this because he loves you. He was so romantic, even if he didn’t realize it. Constantly reminding you how good you feel around his cock, how pretty you are… Everything about Taeyong made you dizzy.

“Taeyong, I’m gonna…” Your head fell forward, toes curling, whining for him.

“Me too, cum with me…” Taeyong’s fingers returned to your clit, trying to make you climax.

“Taeyong, Taeyong… Taeyong!” You moaned his name out as you reached your climax.

“I love you! I love you so much…” He screamed as he came into your womb, thick ropes of white cum filling you up. He dropped you, making you plop onto the bed.

You backed up, sitting on his bed. “I, um, should take a shower… and eat lunch…” You clutched on your stomach, womb abused.

Taeyong hummed. “Say it back.” He cupped your cheek, wiping your tears.

“Say what?” Your back hit the wall as you sat.

“Tell me you love me.” Taeyong started kissing you, looking at you with those big, innocent, brown eyes. Looking at you as if your neck wasn’t covered in his bite marks, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

“You know I love you.” You kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you.”

He pushed you, making you lay back down. “Good.” He lined his cock back up to your pussy lips. “Then I’ll fuck you some more, alright?”

“Ugh… Only if you buy a bigger bed tomorrow, and get your manga collection out of the bedroom.” You pressed a hand against his cheek, pouting.

“Only if you marry me.”

[a-fox-studies]

Hi! I struggle with how to study efficiently. Any study tips you can give? Thank you! you're an inspiration <3

Hihi! Thankyou for the compliment :)

I'm disabled, so my study techniques have changed a lot over the years, so I'll give you both — when I was able-bodied and what I do rn.

(able bodied)

Reviewing lecture notes

📝 So the first thing I do is, review the day's lectures after coming home before doing any other leisurely activities. I come home, eat something, then look through the topics that have been done for the day, and make sure I understand everything. I don't STUDY it, but only read through.

Posing deadlines for myself:

⏳ I do this for a few days until a significant amount of portion is done, and THEN I start studying. I finish one chapter per day, or if it is a huge one, split it for two or three days. I usually pose a deadline for myself — if i have 5 hours to complete this part, and it has 25 pages, so i need to complete 5 pages in one hour, which is 1 page every 12 minutes. I know this is very specific but giving specific deadlines for myself help me complete things faster. And breaking up big chapters like this also make em less intimidating.

Pomodoro:

🕑 I used a 60-10 pomodoro, give and take a few minutes — and it worked because when I was able bodied, I could focus for longer periods of time without any difficulty.

Making notes: Is it required?

✒️ One important thing to think of while taking notes is— do you really need to take seperate notes in order to study, or is reading from the textbook enough for you? Personally, my textbooks have information that's spread through pages and I like my study material to be concise and to the point. I zone out really quickly while reading from the textbook because the information is EVERYWHERE. Abd also the lack of color makes it boring lol. This is why i make seperate notes. If you have no problem with reading from the textbook or any other printed material, I think making notes would be a waste of time.

Physical vs Digital notes:

⌨️ I extensively take physical notes. I love writing down information, color coding them, and highlighting key points. The colors help me visualize the page during the exam, and sometimes I remember an answer only because it was written in a different color than the rest of the page.

I know people who take digital notes, but that doesn't work for me because again, I zone out while reading things from a screen XD. But there are a lot of advantages like easy portability, better organization etc.

(disabled)

Start early

📝 I start studying from the first day. Since my health fluctuates a lot, I don't know when I will go down with a flare and not be able to study. So I start early and try to be ahead of the lecturers so even if I take a few days off, I'm not lagging behind.

Pomodoro:

🕑 Sitting for a long time messes up my hips, so I use a 20-5 pomodoro. I study for 20 minutes and then walk around for 5, stretching a little etc.

Posing deadlines:

⏳I make a schedule but not a very harsh one. Because I need to make it flexible as my health fluctuates a lot. So I usually assign study days for two days, then take a day off, so that I don't get burntout easily. I usually start with assignments the day it is assigned, so that I can do a little everyday and complete it before the due date without tiring myself out.

Making notes:

✒️ Even if I am disabled, I take notes (this does not apply to everyone, I'm just giving my experience). I've tried taking digital notes, and although the stylus and/or typing is much easier on my hand, I allow myself the pleasure of taking physical notes whenever I have the energy to. Because I genuinely cannot study from digital notes lol. I color code my physical notes so I can remember and recall information easily, and it also makes any topic less boring :D

These are all the tips that I use(d), I hope they help you anon!

[myloveforhergoeson]

Iris

R: Hi. Almost done?

The text tone chiming off in James' pocket startled him, snapping the boy out of the tired stupor he had found himself in down in the Rocque Records changing rooms. After convincing Roxy to stay a bit longer after work so he could perfect the dance routine Mr. X had shown him and the band earlier, he had done his best to quickly shower so they could head home together.

Normally, he wouldn’t have felt bad about asking her to say, but the clock on the wall reminded him of the late hour. They’d already missed dinner at the crib and now he was pretty sure his shower had cut into the time she normally spent going over her songs to tweak them before her writing session with Gustavo tomorrow.

To be fair, it hadn’t really been his fault. Once the music turned on and he began moving to the beat, it was like he was on a different planet. Their routines were no joke, and Mr. X was a tough man to please, so James had hardly noticed the few hours that had passed until he felt like he nailed each and every step. 

J: Yup! Be there in a few :)

Am I an emoji guy now? The boy thought, making his way out of the dressing room and heading back to the studio. He was genuinely excited to see Roxy, even though they’d been apart for less than 20 minutes, and take a drive through the city at night with her. Just the thought of it did bring a smile to his face, so why not convey it over text too?

Traversing the empty halls of Rocque Records was a bit unnerving so late in the evening, normally Gustavo’s angry screams rang out through the halls or the melodic guitar chords of a new song. So, when James heard the opening notes to “Boyfriend” come from the dance studio, it didn’t strike him as all that odd. 

Did I accidentally leave the song on loop after practice?

It wasn’t until he heard someone else begin to sing the words did he stop in his tracks. That was odd. 

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone…”

Though Roxy’s voice was quiet, he was still able to hear it over the music, and the squeak of her shoes against the hardwood floor told him something even more interesting - She was dancing. 

Daring to peek his head in the door, trying to keep himself out of her sight despite the floor-to-ceiling mirrors covering three out of four walls in the room, James confirmed his thoughts. 

His girlfriend, pretending as though she was holding a microphone, was wobbly copying the moves he had been practicing for the last few hours as she sang the lyrics to the song. 

The song she had written about him.

Logically, James knew she’d kill him if he whipped his phone out to take a video, so he did his very best to commit the moment to memory. Everything from the tone of the voice she swore she hated, how closely her dance moves resembled the actual choreography, when she caught herself if she messed up… Finally, as the song came to a close, his knees just about buckled when she raised her hands to the sides of her face and wiggled them - Completely imitating the stupid move he had created months ago just to get her to laugh. 

As he rushed to steady himself on the door handle, the metal bar ended up ratting a bit too loud as the track came to a close, alerting Roxy to the presence of someone else in the room. 

He watched, panicked, as her head snapped up, catching the eyes of his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, my God-” Roxy’s hands shot over her mouth, obscuring whatever she said next. 

All James could do was stay frozen in place, staring at her as she sped to the opposite corner of the room where she had left her bag. 

The last thing he had wanted to do was embarrass her, but what else was he meant to do? Not watch as his gorgeous girlfriend worked her way across the room like she owned it? Pretend he didn’t want to hear her sing that song over and over again for the rest of his life?

Jingling keys brought him out of his stupor, and suddenly Roxy was standing right in front of him, motioning to the hallway, trying to leave the studio as fast as humanly possible. 

Even as she stopped before him, her eyes were cast to the floor. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

When he brought his hand to the side of her arm to try and calm her down, she jumped a bit and his gut twisted with guilt. “Rox, hang on-”

“Please?” Her voice was nearly a whisper at this point as she shifted from side to side. 

“Wanna dance with me before we do?” The words out of James’ mouth shocked even him.

Roxy stopped moving altogether; for a moment even James thought she might have even stopped breathing. And, maybe, for a second he did too.

 Between them, there were a few beats of uncomfortable silence.

Idiot, why did you just make it worse-

“I-” His girlfriend tried, reaching up to grip the strap of her black bag. “I don’t want to dance to ‘Boyfriend’ again. It’s too fast anyway…”

At her comment, James let out a silent prayer to whatever powers may be that she wasn’t upset with him. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would have done if she were. Problem-solving wasn’t really his strong suit. 

New dance… Something slow… Slow dance!

The grin that spread across his face was nearly contagious, grabbing Roxy’s hand and pulling her back to the middle of the room. Gently, he took her bag from her shoulders and set it back where it had been earlier before practically bouncing back over to her to present his idea.

“Okay - No more ‘Boyfriend.’” He slightly winced at that statement before continuing. “But I’ve got something better in mind for two people. Ever learn how to waltz?”

Roxy shot him a glare through squinted eyes. One that told him “You know what kind of music I listen to and you think I know how to waltz?”

With a nod, James started again, “It’s super simple! You’ll pick it up instantly, babe, I promise.”

“Yeah…” She scoffed, still avoiding his eyes, tone a bit condescending as she spoke about herself. “‘Cause I picked up the other one so well.”

She’s still embarrassed, James concluded, bringing one of his palms to her cheek. “That’s right. You did.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Roxy punched him in the shoulder. “Just teach me already!”

“Right, right!” Her boyfriend laughed, weight lifting off his chest for a moment as she began to transform back into her usual self. As he placed his right hand on her left shoulder, he took her right hand in his left. “All you’ve got to do is follow my lead.”

Squeezing his hand, Roxy nodded and wrapped her left arm around his waist. Though that wasn’t how the dance was supposed to go, he certainly wasn’t about to pass up an excuse to hold her a bit closer as they moved. 

“Alright… First step: I’m going to move forward with my left foot and you’ll step back with your right…” James instructed, carefully stepping forward as he said he would. 

Shakily, Roxy did as he said, eyes cast toward her shoes once more. 

“Then to the side…”

As the singer droned on, doing his best to guide his girlfriend through the steps, he was a bit anxious this hadn’t been what she had meant at all. She had been dancing to one of the most upbeat dance songs ever written - in his opinion - and now he was teaching her the exact opposite of that. If it bothered her at all, she didn’t say anything, just silently followed his lead as they circled the studio together.

Roxy is far better at dancing than she gives herself credit for, James thought as they finally got the steps down. They were doing a practice run without his words as guidance, only his movements as she quietly spoke the three count of the tempo. She’s always selling herself short…

He didn’t know what to say about that to her just yet and resigned that to be something to talk about later when she accidentally stepped down on his foot, causing a slight yelp to escape his lips.

“Oh, God, James, I’m so sorry!” The hand she had resting in his quickly pulled away, draping itself around his neck as she looked up at him, eyes widening in panic. “We were doing so well…”

Wordlessly, he caught her waist to steady her before she began counting their movements off again. “Roxy, it’s alright! Just breathe for a moment.”

“It’s kind of hard to do that when I’m dancing with someone who does it for a living.”

Was that the issue? She had been embarrassed earlier not because he had caught her, but because he was a professional and she wasn’t?

“Forget about that… It’s just you and me right now, focus on us. I know you can do this if you put your mind to it.”

The sigh she let out told him she was still slightly frustrated, but once again she nodded at his words. “Do you think it’d be better with music?”

James had been so caught up in trying to make her feel better, grow more certain in her steps, that he had completely forgotten that was another crucial part of the dance process. Music spoke to Roxy in ways he would never be able to understand - It only stood to reason a background track would help boost her confidence. Now the issue would be picking the right track. 

“Great suggestion, babe,” He told her, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t think I know any good songs in this tempo that were written in the last hundred years though.”

The sensation of his lips on her skin seemed to light a fire under her, which James had many thoughts about but vocalized none as she abruptly let go of him and raced over to her bag. Flipping the black flap open, she dug her hand around its contents, before gazing back at her boyfriend. 

“I’ll think of something, but while I look I’m gonna need you to tell me who taught you to dance like that.”

Triumphantly, she pulled her blue iPod out and began to shuffle through the songs she had downloaded, waiting for his explanation. 

James scratched at the back of his head, now it was his turn to be embarrassed that night. “Self-taught… Though, my first dance partner was my mom.”

Mentioning his mother made Roxy stop tracing the small circle control pad under her thumb as she breathed, “That’s so sweet.”

“Kind of,” He conceded, though he was trying to figure out the best way to change the subject. Thinking about his parents always sucked and he certainly didn’t want to bring his assistant down again. “I was trying out for the Beast in a local theater’s production of Beauty and the Beast. As you can tell, it’s not really a one-person type deal… She was a saint for putting up with me during that audition.”

Still scrolling, she asked, “Did you get the part?”

“Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

Finally, Roxy giggled for the first time in forever, and the sound was music to James’ ears. “You certainly are a beast…”

“Hey!” He fought back, though he found himself beginning to laugh too. Struggling to think of a comeback, he settled for watching her plug her iPod into the speaker system and hit play on the song she had chosen.

Immediately, a distinct guitar melody began to flood into the room and she practically ran back over to him to get into the starting position they were in before. “1… 2… 3…”

James stepped forward and she stepped back once the male singer began the sorrowful first line, following the beat to help time their movements. This song had been on the radio, for sure he had heard it before, but he couldn’t quite place how much of it he knew. It sounded so much like her, of course this was the song she would choose. On the other hand, Roxy had traded out counting their steps for singing along to the song in the same quiet voice from before while she pulled her boyfriend tighter against her. 

That little move almost made him trip up his step, bringing his feet closer together as he guided her around the room once more. Under his palms, he could feel the confidence she had lost during their first run-through build back up as she moved, throwing her head around as she continued to sing the chorus.

The chorus he definitely knew, but he wanted to listen to her for just a bit longer before he jumped in. 

While they continued to move together, she pulled him closer again, and all at once an image of the two of them circling a beautiful, Victorian ballroom filled his mind. Like they were the only two people in the dance studio, they were the only two people there in his fantasy as the song continued to play. His workout clothes were traded for an elegant black suit, one that perfectly matched the glorious red ballgown Roxy was wearing as they danced, continuing to hold onto each other. 

It was silly, he knew it was, but as he had earlier, this was a new moment he was trying to commit to memory. 

A few taps on his chest as they continued to move drew him out of his fantasy. “You know this right? ‘Iris?’”

All the boy could manage was a nod, grip on her waist inadvertently tightening.

“Good!” She called over the crescendoing guitar. “The last chorus is coming up… Think you could sing it for me?”

James Diamond was a professional entertainer - There was no question he could sing it for her. There was no question he’d do just about anything she asked of him.

I wonder how long it’ll take her to realize that.

Once again, he dipped down toward her, still keeping time with the song, and brought his lips to hers in place of an answer.

“Fuck,” She whispered when he pulled away, sending his heart pounding straight into overdrive. “Forget the song, forget the song-“

When James stepped forward for their first count, this time, she didn’t step back causing him to slightly careen into her. From the tilt of his head as he steadied himself, Roxy must have realized he was confused as they stopped dancing, music still filling their ears. 

The smirk that followed her actions confused him even further, he thought they had a pretty good thing going, before her hands snaked around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back down to hers. 

This is way better than dancing, her boyfriend concluded, bringing his free hand to meet her waist. Roxy seemed to think so too, considering he could still feel faint traces of her grin before she pulled away from him.

“I’m so teaching you how to mosh next time,” She promised as she turned their waltz into a sway, bringing her head to rest against his chest. 

This girl is going to kill me…

When he didn’t answer, trading words for a kiss into her hair, she echoed his words from earlier to quell any opposition. “It’s super simple! You’ll pick it up instantly, babe, I promise.”

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

hi moon, just wanted to let you know that your fanfiction and other's artwork who i follow here have inspired me to make fanfiction. i've written tamer stories but i've also written nsfw stuff as well about eris and drifter. i don't run out of ideas but i run out of steam and motivation to write, even when it involves characters that i love to either draw or write about. do you have any tips to keep going if, for example, you run into an art block of some kind? how can you filter out junk ideas for a good one to write about? also dialogue, it is my weakness but you pick up their mannerisms really well based on some of your work i've read. any tips to get them right in fanfiction? thanks for your time

I cannot express how delighted I am that things I have written have inspired you to write - especially things with Eris and the Drifter. I hope you will consider posting them somewhere and sending me a link either on here or in DMs (or if you are not posting it and still want to share, I invite you to email me - my ID for gmail is the same as it is here, on Discord, and on Ao3.)

Regarding motivation: Writing is a muscle and creativity responds well to routine use of it and sustenance. Motivation is also like a small child and sometimes needs coddling and protection.

I have found the most effective way through blocks is to freewrite through them, By this I mean set a timer, get a pen and paper (not keyboard unless you need one for accessibility reasons) and write whatever comes into your head for five or ten minutes (the number of minutes can vary - I often go up to 20 but even five can be hard at first). Your job is not to actually write, and the words don't actually matter, you just need to keep the pen moving and are not allowed to stop writing words, and then you want to try and do this every day. The point is not to write creatively, it's exercise. Most commonly this begins with phrasing like:

I must write words. I must keep them appearing on the page. I must not stop until the timer ends. I must write. I must write words.

And eventually you get very bored of writing the same thing over and over again and start including other things. For me the most common thing I start to write is lists of things I need to do that are not done yet or lists of things that are emotionally bothering me.

Eventually you run out of things and/or get tired of writing the same problems over and over again and your brain gets bored and starts dreaming up new things. That is good. Let your mind get bored. You want that. Let it play. Grammar is not important. No one else needs to ever see this, including yourself. Ethics/morality is not important. This is pure brain-vomit straight from within. You are teaching yourself to have a conversation with your mind in a nonjudgemental manner. If critical thoughts happen you can write them down, but try not to focus on criticism because that is the enemy of creativity.

For when you're not completely blocked and trying to avoid becoming so, write full first drafts before going back and editing them. Editing engages a different part of the brain from creation and engaging too early can divert your focus and sometimes make it hard to get back into the creative mindset again.

Take breaks. Play games (if you're writing D2 fanfication, this counts as research!) or step away from the computer (or paper). Eat a food. Drink a water. Human bodies were not designed to write for long periods of time. Too much and we start to cramp up and have bad posture and this eventually leads to being distracted by pain.

Protect your creativity. This may be more of a depression thing than a writing thing but few things strangle creativity more than immersing ourselves in toxicity. I curate what media I ingest very stringently. I've had to block people who I still consider to be fantastic artists and writers, whose work I genuinely respect, because it's just not healthy for me to interact with them. Constructive criticism is healthy and good to engage with, but when you encounter a person (or a group) who makes you feel bad routinely, ask yourself if you're actually getting anything out of that relationship. Are they making you a better writer (or a better person) or are they just shitting on everything you love? Sometimes we stay in places (especially online places) that are hostile to us because we feel socially obligated to do so and it harms, not just our creativity, but also our self-esteem. Remember to evaluate these things routinely. Sometimes the reason you're creatively blocked is simply a symptom of something larger. Sometimes your unconscious mind is trying to tell you that it's being poisoned and you need to change your environment so it can breathe again.

Regarding how to filter out junk ideas:

There are no junk ideas, only poor implementation. And even poor implementation is better than no implementation. Write them anyway. You can always edit it later. If your mind thinks something is shiny, pursue it, no matter how 'junk' you think it might be. If your mind thinks something is junk, put it aside, but keep it. It may become shiny later. It may be useful in another form.

Do not filter your ideas. Pile them in a giant heap like a dragon and lie on them. Roll around. Kick your feet. Play. Let your brain be a two-year-old magpie and just pick out whatever is shiniest at the time. Be indulgent. Be decadent. It is your mind. You can have favourites. You can get bored and pick up something else. It's allowed.

You are also allowed to force yourself to finish something when you are unblocked (if you wish) but you may find that doing so causes you to be blocked. Be careful of that. Human unconsciousness and creativity is very cat-like. It gets bored easily and will often be contrary just to fuck with you. It will sit in front of a door, demand you open it, and then begin to lick its ass. It didn't want to actually go through the door. It just wanted you to open it. And that's fine. Let your mind be flighty. You are not on a time limit (unless you are being paid - then it gets more difficult).

In my experience, when you are blocked, or close to it, the restrictions need to come off. Let your mind play and pick up shiny things and get distracted by something shinier or different or otherwise weird. Treat your unconscious like an unruly child, give it breaks. Let it take naps. Give it a cookie when it's done eating its vegetables (but also let it have cookies just because). If you end up with 300 unfinished things that's fine. I, myself, have oodles of them. I look through them and often later find them shiny again. This is fine. Keep your half-done things. Allow yourself to make them and to have them. They are part of your horde. Go looking for more. Shuffle them around. Mix them. Throw them against different walls periodically to see if they stick. Sometimes two things are not interesting but when you put them side by side a third thing appears, within or between them or in reaction to them, that is more lovely than either of them could have been on their own.

When you are writing something and feel bored with it, ask yourself if maybe it's just that you need something else happening at the same time. Maybe this part could use some foreshadowing of something dramatic that isn't yet stated. Or perhaps another scene could be woven into and happen simultaneously with what is happening now.

I work very hard at my dialogue. I am delighted you like it. Some voices (such as the Drifter) come to me far more easily than others and for some (like Eris) I need to immerse myself in them to get a good feel of them. Yet others I simply copy and paste some of their in-game dialogue into a notepad file and then replace individual words until it is saying something else. Or I splice two in-game lines together to make a new one with existing phrases. I often work with a notepad of just copy-pasted dialogue from the game along side what I'm writing so I can use it as a reference for how the character talks.

Conversations also don't tend to begin at the beginning and end at the end. If more context is needed later, you can fix that when you're editing. You're allowed to just skip to the fun parts. You're allowed to have external things interrupt.

Sometimes I go stand by a character in-game that has idle dialogue (both the Drifter and Eris are lovely for this) and I just listen to them while I do other things in an attempt to absorb their speech patterns through osmosis. Sometimes I look up transcriptions of their voice lines from the game, or find quotes from them, or play scenes from the destiny lore vault on youtube in the background, or look up transcriptions on the ishtar collective. I read through them and analyse them. I look for patterns and note them down for use later.

Distinctive character voices have distinctive quirks. Eris, for example, tends to use poetic language, and often uses a bigger word when a smaller one will do, but only when the meaning of the bigger word is actually more precise:

"We do not seek to exculpate the Witch Queen."

Her humour is subtle and pointed, often a little creepy or mean.

"Ikora and Zavala are dear friends. Even if we don't always see eye to eye… to eye."

She is also very blunt, not only in not sugarcoating anything but also in being forthright with her feelings and her tendency to state the obvious, sometimes uncomfortable things no one is talking about:

"Did Zavala send you? He does not trust me." "You give me hope."

Drifter loves colourful gritty memorable metaphors and his humour ranges from self deprecating and flirty to bleak as fuck - sometimes one after the other or at the same time for shock value.

"Otto does it so beautifully that, when he's done, you're standing there holding your guts in your hands and thanking him for the show."

But he's also prone to dispensing unrequested, often highly practical (but a bit unnerving) advice:

"The bullet always comes when you're not moving." "Ever headbut a Kell? Don't. You'll break your neck. Use bullets."

Dialogue also works best when something else is happening at the same time. People rarely talk to each other with their full focus unless the situation is emotionally charged and/or the conversation is extremely important. Figuring out what each one of them is doing in addition to talking can be very helpful even if it never shows up directly in the dialogue at all.

Dialogue also tends to work well when each character has a reason for having the conversation. The reasons don't need to be complicated. The Drifter can be hungry and want to eat dinner. Eris can be busy and want to finish the conversation quickly so she can go back to what she was doing. But having what the character wants in the background of what is being said can really give weight and context to what's being spoken.

Not all responses need to be verbal and many characters have distinctive non-word responses to things. Drifter often laughs, says 'Oooh!' or 'Huh.' Eris often says 'Hmmm…' or sighs. These are as important to their distinctive voices as the words they use.

Dialogue between two people may not need attribution if the voices are distinct enough but any more than two people in a conversation and attribution is usually needed or the reader will become confused. The goal for dialogue attribution is to make it as invisible as possible unless you are using it for a specific effect (for example, I often use attribution as pacing or to achieve a specific rhythmic effect). So anything that might confuse the reader and make them need to re-read or otherwise ask who is speaking is to be avoided. This means that 'said' is not a sin, and neither is 'growled' as long as whatever you choose doesn't stick out and draw attention to itself.

I hope this is useful to you. I love writing, and reading, and delight in sharing stories and ideas. I very much look forward to anything you write and, while I know it is challenging to show your work to others, it's also very rewarding. I hope some day you will be willing to share your things with me, especially if they include Eris and/or the Drifter. I tend to be a very sympathetic reader and will delight in your words and cherish them as expressions of joy and care.

Let there be more love in the world. Let us write it into existence. Let us sing our songs to the universe and delight in the songs we hear in return.

Aiat.

[call-me-the-cassie]

The Mood Lift

Written for the Jilytober 2023: Masquerade Challenge @jilytoberfest Prompt:  am taking the stairs because there’s a huge dog inside the lift and my office is 20 floors above and oh look at that, this handsome man always climbs 22 flights of stairs.

Lily Evans was a very professional young lady. She wasn’t the kind to dilly dally at work at all, no, she left her personal life at the door of the Scrivenshaft’s skyscraper when she came in every morning and worked diligently for eight hours while thinking strictly professional thoughts in her strictly professional attire. And if she thought less than strictly professional thoughts on her one-hour break, well, that was nobody’s business. It was a break, after all.

Not that there were very many unprofessional thoughts, even at break. Lily liked to stay present in the moment, and she was reasonably happy at her workplace. She may not build lifelong close relationships there, but she did like her coworkers enough to spend her free time walking across the road to get sandwiches and coffee with them and chat about frivolous nothings.

“...and then I spent the rest of the morning figuring that out, so I haven’t really had a moment to be tired, but now I’m surprisingly drained out”, Lily said, talking to Marlene McKinnon, her next desk neighbor, one sunny Monday as they walked back with their extra strong coffees. It had been a rather nerve-wracking morning for ones still unused to the chaos the office sometimes descended into.

Marlene nodded sympathetically. 

“Things can get a little heated up this time of the month”, she reassured. “You’ll see it’s nothing to be alarmed by soon enough - all bark and no bite.”

They walked into the building, moping just a little about Mondays, and then an awkward silence reigned briefly as they waited for a lift.

“This building is way too tall if you ask me”, said Marlene to fill the silence. “I have to get here five minutes early just to account for the lifts, and one of them is always out of order.”

“I’m not a huge fan myself”, Lily admitted. “But what can you do? It’d take way longer to take the stairs.”

“Ha! I’m not sure I’d make it to the top at all!” Marlene laughed, and Lily thought that was the end of small talk about lifts.

She was so very, very wrong. She was soon to discover that the lifts weren’t a topic of small talk at all, no, they were the roadblocks on every employee’s path to success, the cog in the otherwise smooth machinery that was Scrivenshaft, the creation of the very devil himself to wheedle hapless young women into damnation.

Lily hated the lifts. Soon they were eating up two thirds of her lunch breaks, till she gave in and started packing herself a little snack to avoid having to leave her desk, and she may have forgiven that, and the fact that they seemed to grow more and more unreliable every day, forcing her to come in earlier and earlier and leave later and later every passing day, if only there was limit to the lifts’ crimes against humanity.

The lifts were evil incarnate, and yet, she depended on them for her very survival. It was an entirely unbearable situation, and someday something would have to change, but she soldiered on bravely till he came into the picture.

It was after nearly a fortnight of suffering that she first saw him. She was still new, still not quite filled with bitterness, still hopeful that the struggles were temporary, and therefore still capable of being surprised when she saw someone make their way to the stairs instead of standing in line for the lifts as they all did.

“Who’s that?”, she whispered to Dorcas, one of those employees who had been much longer than most of them. “I know the lifts are tiresome but… he’s not really going to walk up twenty flights of stairs, is he?”

Dorcas looked bored.

“Maybe he doesn’t need to go up twenty floors”, she replied briefly, which was entirely unhelpful, because there weren’t any offices below the fifth floor anyway, so the man was in for quite a trek either way.

Lily would later find out that all of Dorcas’s replies had a tendency to be brief, the older woman was notoriously unforthcoming with information. She would also notice that Dorcas had never answered her question, and she still had no idea who the man was.

Once she’d seen him, he seemed to appear constantly before her, leading her to assume that he must work there as well. When Marlene couldn’t help her figure out who it was with the little information she had, she took to trying to find out more about him in non stalkery, professional ways.

Perhaps her professionalism was wavering just a little bit.

She made a little game of it, just now and then, noticing little things about the mystery man to tell Marlene, who was proving her wrong by quickly becoming a fast friend of hers. 

“He wore a blue shirt”, she’d first described, but that predictably led nowhere, and with time she found ways to be more specific.

“I saw him on the twenty second floor today, I can’t imagine how he’s doing it”, she said another day, and that was a little more helpful.

“He basically skipped up the stairs! How does the man have so much energy?”, she’d grumble sometimes.

“I suppose that explains how he’s so fit”, she’d admit, but only on break, because that was an unprofessional thought, and she only had them on her breaks, and only in front of Marlene, although others in the office had heard of lift man by then.

Months passed.

“It’s a little unfair, you know”, Marlene would remark now and then. “To call him lift man when all we know about him is that he doesn’t use the lifts.”

“He has made his whole personality about the lifts, Marlie, what else could I call him?” Lily would protest, and Marlene would accuse her of projecting because she herself was becoming obsessed with the lifts, and then the pair would bicker like lifelong friends they might actually be becoming.

Lily was starting to be rather happy, and the walls of professionalism were starting to relax. She was bonding with her coworkers, her work life was proceeding smoothly, and though she was no closer to unraveling the mystery of the lift man -not that there really was a mystery to solve- she rather enjoyed the little game she and Marlene had bonded over. 

If things felt too good to be true -and here Lily would have protested that they didn’t feel that good- the fates intended to balance the scales very soon.

The lifts were to blame, of course. As had been already established, they were the source from where all human sorrow flowed into the world, and they could not accept the calm in Lily’s life, her defiance of the chaos they spread.

The lifts demanded revenge, and they timed their vengeance well.

It was a wet Thursday morning, and Lily Evans was running disastrously late. Her once professional bun had been replaced by a slightly sloppy braid, her high heels swapped for sneakers, and her calm, professional gait had vanished in favor of frantic running when she arrived at Scrivenshaft that morning. 

She put the causes for her circumstances firmly to the back of her mind and reached out for the lift button. Surely there would be one upside to all of this, surely the lifts would be faster now that everyone was already in their offices, she told herself. The lifts would be kind to her today.

Fate laughed at her naivete, the lifts chuckled at her optimism.

Out of order signs hung proudly on two of the three lifts in the building, a little dust starting to gather on them, and a passerby often noted how problematic the situation could be without doing anything to remedy it.

No one, however, was as afflicted by it as Lily Evans was that day, because when the doors to the third lift opened, and they were, indeed, faster without the morning rush, Lily found herself face to face with what she at first assumed to be a hellhound.

Lily didn’t necessarily fear dogs, but this was no ordinary dog. It looked like a wolf, and when she held its gaze for a moment, Lily knew true terror deep in her soul. She looked around for a moment, realized very quickly that she was all alone at the moment, and bolted for the safety of the stairs.

They weren’t far, but Lily was panting anyway when she reached halfway up the stairs and looked behind to see if she was being pursued.

She was, but not by the creature she was running from.

No, she was facing the lift man instead, and he looked a little alarmed. Panic flared as Lily wondered how much of her antics he had witnessed.

“Hello”, she said, trying to smile. “I’m Lily.”

To his credit, the lift man smiled right back, as if the situation wasn’t absurd at all.

“I’m James”, he replied. “I think I’ve seen you around. Lily Evans, yes?”

And just like that, Lily did know who he was. She had emailed him. They had had at least three brief exchanges in an online meeting. They didn’t work together on a daily basis, but she was still floored for a moment by the realization that she had no idea what James Potter looked like before this moment.

Well. That was partly why she was floored. Lily couldn’t exactly deny that she was momentarily very distracted because she’d never seen him from up close like this before and he was much prettier than she had realized.

“That’s me”, she replied, recovering quickly. “Sorry, it’s been a crazy morning, I didn’t realize you’re James Potter.”

Lift man -James- climbed up the few stairs between them to join her.

“I don’t blame you”, he smiled, “I never put up profile pictures. Can’t have people distracted.”

Lily found herself relaxing a little as he gestured to himself, grinning at his own joke.

“I’m afraid my distraction is unrelated”, she sighed as they fell into step. “It’s the lifts.”

“Work of Satan himself”, James said promptly, and Lily’s heart fluttered a little.

“That’s what I say!”, she exclaimed.

“I concur wholeheartedly”, he replied. “They’re my lifelong nemesis.”

Lily could have kissed him there, as they stopped for a moment at the second floor to catch a breath. 

Or so she thought.

“What are you doing?”, she half squeaked as he pressed the button summoning the only functioning lift to them.

“Waiting for the lift?”, he said, sounding confused.

“I thought they were your nemesis," Lily protested. “James, you can’t take the lift.”

“Lily”, he said very patiently. “The stairs don’t go any higher, because no one would climb up more than two flights of stairs, and I sure as hell wouldn’t climb up twenty-two flights.”

Lily looked around. He was right. The stairs didn’t go any further.

“We can take the fire escape”, she suggested. James could accompany her or not, but there was no way she was going anywhere near the lifts ever again.

He looked surprised.

“Lily, I hate the lifts as much as you do, but…”

“You don’t understand”, she interrupted. “There’s a dog in there, a big, angry vicious dog, and we need to get away before the lift arrives and it attacks us.”

She sounded unhinged even to her own ears. James paused for a moment.

“How about”, he suggested “we wait for the lift, and if the dog is still in there, I protect you with my life and we take the fire escape?”

Lily considered this for a moment.

“And I buy you coffee to compensate for the ordeal”, he added.

“Well, okay, then”, Lily relented, pleased that he seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.

They waited, but there was no awkward silence to fill, and when the lift doors opened and no dog presented itself, James gallantly declared that it was doubtlessly a trick of the lifts.

“I believe you completely”, he reassured her.

“I suppose I should buy you coffee instead, since you were prepared to defend me with your life”, Lily offered, hoping he’d take her up on it. 

“We could do that”, James agreed, “or we could get dinner together this Saturday and work on a petition to banish the lifts.”

Lily’s eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“As friends, of course”, James added. “We’ve been through so much together.”

“That sounds great”, Lily smiled. 

They exchanged numbers and reluctantly parted ways at the twentieth floor.

Despite the morning’s difficulties, Lily found herself smiling a little all day.

James had picked the perfect place for dinner. Light, breezy and casual, perfect for their new budding friendship. Lily was instantly at ease, and she loved the food there.

“Oh my god this is absolutely amazing”, Lily gushed over her pasta. 

“I know right!”, agreed James, just as enthusiastic about his onion rings. “I’m pretty good company!”

“No, really, how have I never heard of Leaky Cauldron?”, she said. “This is heaven, James, you’ve brought me to heaven.”

“Underrated gem, this place”, he said. “You’re very welcome.”

“I haven’t thanked you yet”, Lily protested, and then her tone softened. “But I am now. Thank you for offering to fight a dog for me, and for keeping me company, and for bringing me to my new favorite diner.”

“Happy to”, James replied, a faint blush spreading over his face. “You’re pretty good company, my new favorite friend, as long as you don’t tell my old favorite friend.”

“I can do that”, she laughed.

“Speaking of my old favorite friend”, James continued, “I do actually know a bit about the dog’s backstory.”

Lily listened, riveted, while he explained how his friend had seen the dog wandering the streets that morning and decided to launch a very ill thought rescue mission. He reassured her that the dog and the friend were now both safely stashed away at their respective homes, and the lifts weren’t to blame for once after all.

They had more to talk about than either of them expected, and when the dinner was over, they decided to get an ice cream, and when somehow there was still more that they absolutely had to discuss, they agreed to meet for dinner again.

And again. 

And then for lunch, and then for coffee. Lily introduced James to Marlene, who gleefully spilled the beans about their speculation about the mysterious lift man, and James introduced her to Sirius, who apologized for his part in scarring her with the dog.

Lily didn’t believe in workplace romances, but she hadn’t believed in workplace friendships either, and she had been proven very wrong there, so she took a leap of faith a few weeks later and asked James out.

“I’d love to get dinner with you this weekend”, she replied deceptively casually one day when James asked her if she had plans, “but I’d like it to be a date.”

And James had beamed , grinning ear to ear as he took her up on it.

And then professionalism went out the window entirely as he leaned forward, just a little, and left a kiss on her cheek.

“See you soon, Evans”, he said as she stood there, beaming back at him.

Maybe, just maybe, the lifts weren’t the spawn of the devil after all.

[pulisicz]

you seem so lonely - christian pulisic

if you’re lonely, come be lonely with me

summary - christian, and usa, is out of the world cup, and you just moved to london after graduating university, confused on what you want to do in life, and being all alone…

pairing - christian pulisic x fem!reader

song inspo - this side of paradise (coyote theory)

warnings! - none

word count - 1.3k

note - hey guys! this is my first fanfic on here, and it’s been a while since i’ve last written a fanfic, so i apologize if this doesn’t seem like my best work. regardless, i hope you enjoy :)

i am also planning on possibly writing a second part if you guys want!

-

“where’s the train station?” you ask someone as you try to find it yourself. “the metro is that way” the person responds while pointing straight ahead.

i swear i’ve already been there

you’re were still finding my way around london, but it’s harder than it looks. you got around new york so well when you were in college, but this is a whole new city, in a whole new country.

you had been walking for a good while in the direction that the person told me, but didn’t see the train station at all. you were started to think that they might have lied to mess with you, or if they accidentally told you the wrong direction.

perfect… just perfect…

—

“mate you did great. all of you did great. you should be so proud of yourselves” ben says as him and christian are watching an nfl game.

“i know i know, it’s just, i feel like i let the boys down. i could have pushed myself more, you know?”

“chris, you did well”

christian turns back to the tv as he take another sip of his beer. he knows ben means what he says, but it was still going to be hard to get out of this “slump”.

the game soon comes to an end, the bills beating the jets 20-12

“would you look at that, another loss”. christian gets up to throw my bottle away and gets something to eat.

“christian, please. it’s just a football game, and plus they play the lions next, so they’ll surely win. and stop beating yourself up about the world cup, alright?”. christian rolls his eyes and grabs the doritos bag from the pantry.

about an hour goes by, doritos bag empty, and both ben and christian tired. “i’m gonna head out ben. thanks for having me over”

jesus it’s cold. the second christian is outside he’s greeted with the cold, winter air of london and makes his way to the train station.

—

“where is this goddamn train station?!” you mumble to yourself while aggressively trying to look at a map on your phone, which wasn’t working very well since it’s was about to die, and the signal wasn’t great.

“excuse me, do you know where the train station is? someone said it was this way but i’m pretty sure it’s definitely not in fact, this way” you ask a man. he seemed tired and a bit annoyed, but you were getting desperate at this point.

“yeah, i do, i’m actually headed there right now if you wanna just follow me”.

thank god

“oh my god, thank you. you’re a life saver”. he gives a little chuckle and smiles as the two of you start walking. it’s a little awkward as he is a complete stranger, but you were just happy to get headed home.

“i’m christian by the way” he says, breaking the awkward silence.

“i’m y/n. nice to meet you christian”

christian… nice name. and nice looking guy. you hadn’t really noticed how attractive he was, and he was very attractive, and very familiar looking.

soon enough they two of you get to the train station, and you thank christian and go your separate ways, until you realize that you are both going on the same train.

“long time so see” he jokes. christian then takes a seat next to you. it was a little awkward since you two had just seen each other, but you weren’t complaining. better than sitting next to a stranger.

for the first 5-10 minutes, you just looked at your phone, but not really doing anything. opening apps just to close them, checking the time even though you know only 30 seconds have gone by since last checking the time.

“so, what do you?” christian broke the silence. you were kinda glad that he was the one to say something. you wanted to talk to him, but didn’t want to be weird about it.

“well, i’m trying to figure that out. i would love to be a director, and i majored in both film production and photography, and minored in english. at the moment i’m trying to find photography jobs, and i’m working on a script for a movie, although the script is in its early stages”.

you didn’t even realize you were rambling. it had been a long day, and considering you didn’t have any friends in london, and the time difference made it hard to talk to your friends back home, christian become your victim.

“sorry” you realize you gave, basically, you’re entire life story.

“sorry?” christian asks. it was as though he was confused as to why you were saying sorry. sorry? sorry? sorry for over sharing to a stranger at 8 pm on a sunday.

“no need to apologize. and that’s so cool that you’re into all of that. takes a lot of creativity and hard work. pretty sick”.

you couldn’t help but blush a little. you never thought about what you do to be that cool. you always thought what you did was cool, and NYU had an amazing art program, but you come from a law family. your mother is a lawyer, your father is a lawyer, your brother is a lawyer, your grandfather was a lawyer, and so on. of course your family was always proud of you, but there was always an expectation from others to follow in your family’s footsteps. pursuing film production and photography is hard, especially in such a competitive field, and you found yourself working on multiple projects at once, staying up late to work on them, just to scrap all of your work.

so yes, it was refreshing to hear christian say what you did is cool.

—

“this is my stop” you say as the station comes into view. you and christian had talked about movies and books pretty much the entire time on the train.

“hey, um, i don’t know if this would be a little weird, but can i get your number?”

his question caught you very off gaurd.

“sure” you say, not really thinking. the train was pulling into the station and there wasn’t much time to think, so you put your number into his phone.

“see you later, christian”.

—

christian saw the train station coming into view, and as soon as he did his kind started racing.

i want her number, but would it be weird if i asked? she said she was new to london, meaning she probably doesn’t have many friends, plus she’s really nice and i had a nice conversation with her. shit. i don’t have much time. fuck it.

“sure” she says. christian was fully expecting an awkward response, ultimately ending in him not getting the girls number, so her “sure” caught him off guard.

she put her number into his phone and handed it back to him. all he could do was stare at the number and the contact name she had put into the phone. it was like christian was back in high school getting his crushes number. he had a little smile on his face, continuing to just look at the contact.

“see you later, christian”

christian was brought back to reality, and looked up from his phone to see y/n making her way to the train door.

“yeah, see you later” is all he managed to say.

the doors to the train closed, and it was off to the next stop. at around 8:30 it finally got to christian’s stop. it was quiet out, not many people out, which wasn’t unusual. christian was more than happy, and relieved, to be home. there was nothing he wanted to do more than get changed into clean clothes and sit on his couch and do all of nothing.

right as christian enters his house he gets a text

“hey #10”

[midnightt-vice]

I now have 50 works on my AO3! I made my account in November of 2017 because of one fanfic that I wanted to put out for others to read. It was a Charles Vane x reader piece that I was super proud of and since Vane had a death grip on me for 3 years of my life, I didn't want to write self-indulgent fanfictions and keep them to myself. Like that's cool and all but I was tired of seeing so little content for him and I decided I was going to create what I wanted to see.

And I am The Dumbass that likes minor and/or unloved characters most of the time. I'm not about to let these characters go without the love they deserve. Idc if their only scene is a minute or if they're in a game that's 20 years old or if they've evil or gross. I want them and I know that others do as well.

Anyway! I wrote a lot of things and posted like... every single piece of fanfiction that I did write. I deleted a handful of them because I didn't like them or they weren't going anywhere/I had no plans for them.

Earlier this month I finished my first lengthy work that's 31 chapters long and that I worked on for 5 years but have only posted for 3 years. For the first 2 years I had no idea where to go with it and then, just a few months of posting the first few chapters, my hard drive it was on DIED. I thought I had made a backup of it but I didn't. I was able to revive this hard drive and got all of my stuff off of it and was able to resume writing that fic. It was my fucking passion project and kept me entertained when nothing else could hold my attention. For 5 years it was with me through a lot of major life events and I wasn't sure that I wanted it to end, but I knew that I didn't want to give up on it.

I don't really keep track of numbers, they drive me crazy, but I absolutely love seeing people flock to a new work to read it. Like I can't express how many times, in this year alone, I've posted a new piece and by the time I woke up, it has like 200 reads. That's insane to me! And people like and bookmark these things to share/come back to later? That's wild to me. To think people like the absolute (mostly) degeneracy I write.

I didn't think that little ol' me in 2017 writing a fanfic of Charles Vane out of pure thirst would get me 50 posted works deep in 2024.

And I still write (mostly) degenerate smut but I love seeing how vast my writing style can be, and the ways I've improved and how I'm always wanting to improve. Some days I didn't want to write at all and I wouldn't and it got me into a rut of zero creation - no writing, art, drumming, crafting - none of it. And that kills me on the inside for a lot of reasons. But writing keeps my mind active, keeps me entertained, and overall helps me function better. Very rarely do I have to force myself to write anymore because I keep a good schedule that also allows me to have frequent, planned breaks to enjoy non-writing life.

This year is the most I've written in 3-4 years. I'm really happy that I got back into the swing of it in January because I don't know what I'd be doing if I didn't.

Anyway this post is way too long now to be excited about 50 works on AO3 since 2017. But yeah anyway, never thought I'd have 50 works of fanfiction at all, let alone online for thousands of people to read. Thank you to everyone who's read or even peeked at my AO3. I absolutely love putting out things for others and I'm thrilled to know others enjoy it!

[pbandjesse]

I am sending someone a furby! It is nice to move one of them to a new home. And it was a nice way to end a day that was pretty though on me.

I really struggled. I had a horrible time falling asleep last night. I had to wake James up I was so upset and feeling so bad. And they were difficult to wake up which upset me more. I was going through it for sure.

I slept an extra 10 minutes. Which didn't actually make me feel much better. I just did not want to leave. I wasn't even feeling particularly bad, but I was afraid of feeling worse. And it was so wildly humid outside. I was shocked when I went outside. James would give me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to take on the drive. And then I was off. I waved to my husband as they biked away. And I headed to work.

And it was a mostly find day. The kids were great. They liked the project a lot more and that made me feel a lot better about it after being sort of upset about it all evening.

I was very unhappy inside though. While the nausea wasn't terrible, my brain just felt low. Exhausted. I need a break. Camp is almost over. But I am already thinking about the fall.

I would go down to the office to chat with Heather about it. She would give me the dates we have for feild tiros and rentals so I would know when I talked to Jesse about the September schedule. Elizabeth would get confused later when I was like. Oh I have the feild trips written down and she's like what feildtrips?? But I call all the rentals no matter what they are field trips. Just like I call all the musuem events weddings. Should I stop that? Probably but it's not the most important thing to me right now.

I had my two morning groups and they were good. They made interesting pieces. I decided to order everyone both cup molds and plastic bags molds. And that little bit of choice seemed to make people a lot more interested and experimental. Which was fun to see.

I was a little frustrated with some kids who kept interrupting me but we would get through it and things would be good.

I was very tired though. So at lunch I would lay in my hammock and fall asleep for a half hour. I was just a bit dizzy and I wanted to sleep more but I had to be up for my groups.

Tuesday is my longest day. With 2 groups in the morning and 4 in the afternoon. And it is very tough!! But since I will have my doctor's appointment next Tuesday I won't have to have this very long day again this year.

My afternoon groups did a good job. Sweet kids. I was frustrated by some councilors just straight up not doing their jobs but the ones who were doing their jobs made me feel very appreciative. The good ones make my life so much easier.

Bontkirchen just wanted to make bracelets. A few of them did clay. I would knit quietly and enjoy the conversations. Learning about what they want to be when they grow up. Daisy gave me a cookie. We got to learn about Harris picking the Minnesota governor as her VP. And he seems like a good man. I think it's a solid pick. We try to not talk politics at puhtok but it was literally just announced while we were sitting there so it felt like they deserved to know.

My last group of the day was horse camp. And I had checked with Chloe twice to make sure they were coming. And she said yes. But then it was 345 and they weren't there??

I was sitting there waiting when PJ came to visit! It was so nice to see him. I was sad when he wasn't able to work at camp this year. He's a real adult now. He would hang out with me for a bit but soon he was off to say hello to some other people.

And horse camp still wasn't there.

I would go down to the office to use the bathroom. I was annoyed that I could have been home but I wasn't I was waiting for them!! But as I was leaving the office I saw Alicia and she is the horse camp councilor so I followed them and would have horse camp for 20 minutes.

So they just cut string for bracelets and got started on things. They had a few kids who were apparently really really struggling and that's why they were so late. But I was just glad they came in the end.

But soon it was swim time and they were off. And I would head home.

Thankfully the drive was not terrible. There was a bit of traffic but I would be home by 515. I got a good parking space and was just really happy to be home.

James was warming up my leftover pizza. And while they did that I went and took a shower. The plaster makes me so dry. And while my nausea isn't so bad, it is still there. And it was nice to just sit in the cool water.

I had my two pieces of pizza. And James baked bread. And we have been chilling on the couch. They are playing a little guitar now and it's just really nice being together.

We will probably watch a show. And maybe have a milkshake. And just try and have a nice night.

Hopefully tomorrow I feel more normal. It's been a hard couple weeks physically. It would be nice to not be so aware of my body all of the time.

I hope you all sleep easy tonight. I love you all. Good night

[cata-strophes]

I just found you and im like in love with all your art!!!! Do you think you could like catch me up on your ocs? Like a little introduction to them? Cause I am invested! I hope that's not too much to ask!

(Funny story, i was writing this and wrote a lot and then my power went off and i lost what i had written L)

Thank you!! :D And of course!! Im sorry this took so long, when i saw your message i realised i dont have a lot of actually-colored drawings of my ocs (that arent dante), so i ran to do some quick sketches (and got busy in the middle of it)

In the world of my OCs, some people are born with powers, but they have consequences and drawbacks if they're overused.

There is an Evil Bad Guy(tm), who, of course, wants power, and so when a kid is born with a strong enough power, it's more than likely they will be taken to join the ever-growing brainwashed army of Evil Dude(tm). Evil Villain Guy(tm) also carries forward... tests and experiments, to see if it's possible to evolve these powers and overcome their drawbacks.

This guy is my poor special little guy, Dante, and by that, I mean he's the one that I make suffer for my own amusement, i'm sorry, Dante.

He doesn't know his age, but he guesses he's in his mid-20s.

He was one of the child soldiers the Evil Villain Man(tm), and has been with him since he has memory. Now all he wants is revenge against him, and doesn't care about much else.

He was a favourite, because he was the first one to survive the tests and evolve the powers he has. (drawbacks are still a work in progress)

His power allows him to create limbs made from shadows, he specialized in wings. Altho he started only creating two wings, with the tests, he started calling more and more wings to his control, and they eventually stopped looking soft and feathery, and started looking more and more leathery, and he stopped using them to fly, more like spider legs to help support him and that he can turn into extremely dangerous and sharp weapons.

This guy over here is Nicholas. He is *drum roll* Evil Villain Guy(tm)'s older son!

Nicholas is in his mid-20s. He also has a younger brother, Theo, who is in his early 20s.

He was raised in blissful ignorance until he was a teenager, where he started figuring out his family's dark history. He started questioning his father's authority more and more, until, when he was around 16 years old, his own father commanded his assassins to get rid of him.

He was left for dead, but little did they know he had been hiding self-healing powers, and managed to survive and ended up joining a rebellion against his father, meeting Dante again ten years later, when he escaped. His brother is still with his father.

I'm very bad with names and can't choose, I have at least twenty options for each, but these are also some very important guys for them. All of their designs might change!! I'm still playing around.

The woman to the left is the leader of the rebellion, she took Nicholas in and knocked some sense into his head when he was pushing his body and powers farther than he should. She has electricity on contact powers, she uses it for the most shocking punches, or for charging whatever metalllic weapon shes holding to make it Hurt. Her drawback tho, is a loss of fine motor skills, her hands shake a lot because of this.

The guy in the right is Dante's uncle. Dante's uncle was a renowned knight, when he learnt that his brother, sister-in-law and nephew, his only family, were all wiped out in an attack, he lost his control and threw himself to battle with no second thoughts. His power is something of future visio; it doesn't go too far, just a few seconds or minutes (although he might get a few days or weeks worth of it in dreams), which made him unstouchable in battle. The drawback is the lost of his own eyesight. He is blind because of the overuse of his powers, and can really only notice light and very blurry shapes if he focuses (he usually doesn't). When he got tired of fighting he up and left, trying to forget and be forgotten, finding a village in the middle of nowhere and staying there to pass his days.

UNTIL his war-buddy, mister-in-the-center-drawing, came looking for him. They used to be the closest friends and he spent years looking for him after he vanished from the face of the Earth. He doesn't have any powers, but he is very much to Dante's uncle's levels of swordmanship and whatever-knights-do-ship (with the exception of. you know. literal future vision powers). They are boyfriends now.

Also Dante and his uncle meet later on, and this meeting is the reason Dante doesn't go off the deep end as it was very much looking like before. Dante's uncle knows Dante's real age and birthday, he never forgot.

[yes0another0outsiders0blog]

Finally rereading The Outsiders like I said I would. I think I'll probably be doing a chapter a day, even though it's short enough that I could probably bust it out in one or two sittings. I'm really prone to burnout and I am trying to write a bit each day and I have a job to work and adult tasks to do and such, so a chapter sounds like a good goal with that considered.

Also, I'm sick as a fucking dog while reading this first chapter. Not relevant, just a little fun fact.

Anyway, have my thoughts while I read it!!

The Outsiders Reread : Chapter One Notes

less than a page in and I'm already tired of Ponyboy being Not Like The Other Girls

he's 14, that's positive, I should not be able to stomach a well-written 14 year old on account of them acting very 14, but also shut the fuck up

"yeah, I read books, unlike EVERYONE ELSE" go to hell

not to intentionally misread and water down a character, but Ponyboy saying "but sometimes I just don't use my head" is literally all you need to fucking know. that's it, that's the book

we get it, Pony, you come from a very hot family, yall are all conventionally attractive. paragraphs, ffs

also, I love that Soda doesn't drink. that he has a drunk on life attitude. could absolutely never be me, love that for him, unfortunately I fw Two-Bit's vibes with alcohol a bit more--

and the fact that Soda is the only one that can tease Darry.

there isn't a single positive thing said about Dallas besides "I didn't like him, but he was smart and you had to respect him." but frfr he's so great.

but if I met any of these fuckers irl Soda is the only one that I'd have a chance in hell at not hating. and that's only because he seems like he'd be enough of an emotionally/socially intelligent people-pleaser to actively try to get someone to like him, lol.

kinda salty about Johnny being called the gangs pet, wtf Ponyboy. not like he's one person's main reason to live, is SUCH fucking ride or die, later kills a man for Pony. but yeah, he's a pet. he tags along. what the fuck ever, man. if anything, Ponyboy (you know, the person that's mainly part of the gang bc he tags along with his older brothers, the BABY of the group, the quiet & sensitive one that doesn't have a single braincell outside of pure booksmarts) is the pet. like, sure, Johnny has trauma and is really quiet, but let's be so fr right now.

despite what is said in the book (bc it's Ponyboy's pov so we only get his perspective, obviously) I'm sure Darry gets after Soda too.

also, oldest children that become parental figures in some degree are allowed to be mean to their baby siblings. it's our right. as a 20-something year old with a young teen baby brother with common sense in the negatives, I am very biased in saying that Darry is always objectively 100% correct in every situation ever (heavily exaggerating, I just relate a lot).

forever mad that we don't get more Sylvia!!! my most random fav!!! so much love to her!!! she's basically an oc with how little we get of her and how many headcanons I have, I don't even really like the main fanon version of her either, but GOD she's my girl fr

NO BECAUSE WHEN I WAS 14 IF SOMEONE PULLED THEIR OWN KNIFE TO DO A DISSECTION THE WAY MY TONGUE WOULD BE DOWN THEIR THROAT. Ponyboy, babygirl, you did NOT deserve for that girl to hate on you like that. RUDE.

"Dallas deserves everything he gets, and should get worse, if you want the truth." agreed, that's my though process as I'm making the nastiest headcanons for him. my life's goal is to make this man suffer or make him into a loser, and all my hcs do both

breaks my heart so much how Ponyboy talks about Darry, leave my boy ALONE, dude!!!

my headcanons for Darry are usually the exact opposite of my hcs for Dally, I just want this guy to have the very best ong. I'll get so unrealistic with it too, bitch, YES I'll give you an absolutely stunning sugar mommy, babe!! just stop being stressed and stop having bad things happen for a few minutes!!! I almost struggle making in character, good headcanons for him because I just want to give him fluff and filler only and nothing else--

[gurugirl]

Guruuuuuuuuu it's meeeeeee 🍸 Tomorrow is the weekend and my brother is coming to town to visit and he wants me to entertain him but I'm exhausted so wish me luck! And I've been meaning to stop in and say hi but I've been so busy since I was promoted at my firm. Just everything has been a big whirlwind. But I love it.

Update ~ My ex (the one who I kept sleeping with after he broke up with me) is seeing someone else now! It's so funny too because the last time he tried to hook up with me apparently he was dating her and I almost gave him and invited him over too. I'm so glad I was too tired because when I found out he'd been seeing this chick (who I know by the way but that's a different story) I was like doing the timeline in my head and yeah... it's very possible I slept with him while they were dating but as far as I know they're not exclusive but for me that's an ick. I'm not casual like that. So I had to go get STD tested and that's when I decided to block him completely. I am a well educated, grown adult who is on her way to some very successful career and saving up to buy a house (on track for end of year) and I'm fucking around with some loser asshole still? So yeah... that's all in the past and I know last time I said it was over with us but this time it's for real 😅

How have you been?? How's school and Mexico and your adorable dog?

Also I just read the ex's dad Harry last night and I'm absolutely hooked already. I don't make it on tumblr often anymore unless I need to shut my brain off after a grueling day at work but for this one? Honey let me tell you how well written and absolutely gripping it is and it's only part 1. No one does that tension like you and this one is no different. So I'm just here to tell you that I will be reading this series and opening up Tumblr every week for this one because it's so good already. Not one paragraph was boring or out of place. That's such a pet peeve of mine when I'm really into a good story and there's a chunk that absolutely does nothing to move the plot forward or it's just for funsies but that takes me right out of the experience of reading when a writer starts to add too much just for bulk.

tootles! -🍸

OH MY GOSH! I've been wondering how you've been! Congrats on the promotion attorney girl!! Amazing! You are such an inspo! 🎉 Busy is good when you're doing something you love! And I hope you have an amazing time with your brother. How nice that he's coming to visit! I miss my brother like you can't even imagine so it's making me all teary eyed just thinking about it.

And I'm so glad you are officially done with the ex. What a weirdo trying to sleep with you while he was seeing someone else. LOL. Men just aren't always the smartest but you were right to get tested because you never know. Smart girl!

And things are good here! The weather is warming up so midday is quite warm! School is good! I took an accelerated communications class and just finished that one (8 week condensed class) and now I'm just waiting on grades to be posted and still have another class I'm taking currently but I think spring break is soon? Also my dog is so fun. He's kind of showing his age these days but he gets 3 good walks every day so he's not just relegated to using the bathroom in our backyard. The walks help with his mind and his body and it puts him in a good mood (me too lol). He has pups he likes to play with up the street but that wears him out and he limps back home after he plays with them because his hips are sort of aging so he usually winds up resting for hours after 20 minutes of playtime. Anyway I could go on about Barry... he's the love of my life (don't tell my SO lol).

So happy to hear your thoughts on ex-boyfriend's dad! Thank you hon! I'm so flattered 🥰 Love that you enjoyed it!!

xoxo

[dervampireprince]

it is time! thank you to my mods for helping me plan things out. i'll be having a subathon live on twitch on saturday 20th of may to celebrate my birthday (the 21st) and twitch anniversary (the 18th). all information is in the image, including the time of the stream. for those new to subathons, it's a stream where every sub, gift sub and cheer/donation increases the amount of time i have to be live for, and as we reach more subs there are goals that i have to complete as rewards for you all. the stream will go for a max of 10 hours per day, meaning if the timer ends up at 12 hours i will stream for 10 hours one day and 2 hours the next day. the stream will start at 10am UK time and end at a max of 8pm my time.

immediately following that we'll be celebrating in my discord! watch party at 8pm UK time on sauturday may 20th (or a few minutes late depending on how slowly i end stream) i'll be streaming the proshot of the Legally Blonde musical! i recently remembered how much i love the musical and am tired of hiding it because people think it's cringe. overall the musical is just a bit of fun. note: my discord is patreon exclusive and you can join for the lowest £1 a month tier.

i hope you guys will come and celebrate with me, either in stream or the watch party of both, my throne wishlist and kofi are both open but there is no need for anyone to do anything for my birthday, i just wanted to say the option is there but please do not put yourself out. i've never really had a good birthday or a birthday where people have showed up and my birthday this year already isn't going to plan like i hoped, so i hope at the very least i can have some fun with you guys that weekend. thank you guys, because without you i wouldn't be able to keep streaming  ❤️

(for those who don’t know what a subathon is, it’s twitch stream where there is a timer counting down, in this case from 6 hours, and every time someone subscribes, gifts a sub or cheers, more timer is added to the timer and i have to keep streaming until the timer reaches zero. as a community you guys can work together to hit sub totals and each time we hit a goal we unlock another activity, you can see those listed in the image)

[ID: an image of prince’s vampire vtuber model with the title ‘25th birthday and 1 year twitch anniversary subathon. listed is the time of the stream, how much time is added per sub, and the sub goals. every sub adds 5 minutes, ever 500 bits adds 1 minute. everyone who contributes will have their name written in a thank you card. the goals are: 5 subs = tierlists, 10 subs = read ‘smile for me’ epilogue, 15 = asmr voice for 30 minutes, 20 subs = play extra ‘stanley parable’ endlings, 25 subs = blindfolded drawing requests, 30 subs = guess the musical & sporcle quizes, 35 subs = karaoke hour, 40 subs = skirmblo doodle requests, 45 subs = discord community gartic phone game night, 50 = custom kandi bracelet giveaway, 100 subs = ara ara]

[thebearemoji]

Rebuilding my swimming endurance

My parents signed me up for swim team before I was old enough to form long term memories. So in that way, I've always been acquatically inclined. Honestly, swimming has always been so natural to me that i feel like I should be an advocate for having all babies learn to swim at least to some degree.

My strong suit in the water has never been speed. My brother and I have the same broad shoulders and strong legs, we often used to joke as kids that "we weren't designed for speed, we were designed to carry heavy things long distances". And our swim coaches took notice of that. They identified us both as kids with the potential to swim one of the most dreaded events in any meet, the 500 free, which is 20 laps.

I don't think I ever really hated the 500. It's certainly tiring, after finishing twenty laps it always felt like my body had turned to cement when I drag it out of the pool and return to gravity's cruel embrace. But a good kind of tiring, especially when it came with the satisfaction of knowing there weren't many kids my age who even swam this event. It was something to take pride in, even if it did make my lungs burn and arms ache.

It would sort of hang over me on meet days, many of the swim meets I attended were all day affairs. You'd arrive around 8 am and be there until evening. And the 500 was almost always about 75% of the way through the day. With the little kids, parents would write down the events they were swimming for that day on their hands in sharpie so they (hopefully) wouldn't forget and miss one. So I'd be swimming earlier events, all the while catching glimpses of that 500 written on my hand in my peripheral vision with every stroke. Knowing I can't afford to spend too much energy here, because the real work was still to come.

When I said most kids don't swim the 500, I mean so few swim it that most spectators and swimmers would see it as an opportunity to go get a snack or use the bathroom or... locate their child somewhere within the sprawling ymca. It takes a while, usually at least 10 minutes, plenty of time to stretch your legs. The stands would empty almost completely sometimes, but I didn't really mind. My coaches and my family were always there, and I always had a couple friends on the team. It was like... my own special event (I literally swam it completely alone one time).

Another charming little detail about this particular event, it was so many laps, that they had special signs to keep count for the swimmers. Cause as the swimmer gets tired it's easy to get confused and lose track of whether that was 13 or 15 you just finished. The signs had two sides that both displayed a number, and every swimmer would get someone to stand at the shallow end of the pool. As you were approaching the wall, your helper would dunk the sign under the water to show you how many laps you had left. When you were on your nineteenth, they'd flip the sign to a highlighter bright orange square which means "You're done after this, stop swimming, dumbass!".

The signs were not fool proof, my brother once swam what we jokingly referred to as "the 450" (18 laps), and there was one time that i didn't stop. I swam about half an extra lap before realizing my helper was waving their arms at me at the opposite end of the pool.

Recently I made the choice to start swimming again. It was never my choice to learn in the first place, but I'm so glad I chose to do this now. So I can know that this really is something I enjoy. People who see me working out will often remark some variant of "You're a great swimmer" and I have to choke back a "Not as good I should be." In favor of a polite "thank you."

It hasn't been easy, I've done very little proper swimming since quitting in high school. I started by swimming almost exclusively breaststroke for a few weeks. Thankfully that got easy quick to where I could swim breaststroke effectively indefinitely, and at least let me get a full work out in even if I could only manage the one stroke.

So I use breaststroke as a warm up and cool down, and then started doing "halvsies", breaststroke one way, freestyle back to get my body to start cooperating again. It was a start. Once freestyle became approachable to me, I started doing a block of it in the middle of my workouts. As much as I can manage, with a caveat. I must swim at least as much consecutive freestyle as I did the previous day. That got results, little by little ive rebuilt some endurance. I hit 10 laps for the first time yesterday.

But tonight when my hand touched the wall on 10, I wasn't that tired yet. I knew I could do 12. So I kept going. On the 12th lap I took stock of myself, I was in a good rhythm, and I realized I could do 14. And hell... once you've done 14, you're basically done, right? My body didn't really start to protest until the last two laps, but I did it. 20 consecutive laps.

My freshman year of high school i quit the new team I was forced to join because (insert extended ancedote here about high school bullying). And now, at the age of 28, I finally swam another 500.

About damn time :)

[satanicchristiancult]

Heartstopper 7-30, and why it is that representation matters

Or: the perspective from a queer and mentally ill teen about figuring out your future and moving forward from the past, through an analysis of a singular chapter of Heartstopper

Alternatively: a queer, mentally ill teen projecting their issues and analyzing life itself through a comic about queer, mentally ill teens

Warnings: spoilers for all of the comic version of Heartstopper up until the most recent update (September 11, 2023), past self-harm, issues with self-image, and unspecified eating disorders (all of them both in fiction and in real life). (The last one isn’t really spoken about, but the topic lingers around this essay, keep that in mind).

It’s the second time I’m writing this. Bear with me. It’s long. You’ve been warned. Also, as you can see, this was written over the course of two days, and took multiple days for me to clean up and post. It’s no longer Monday 11th, so there are inconsistencies.

Today I woke up like any other Monday morning. Grabbed my phone at 5 am before getting ready for class. Today is update day for Heartstopper, as is every 1st, 11th, and 21st of each month. I looked up the chapter on Tumblr, read half of it, got ready for the day, read the rest of the update, and kept going with my day.

Usually, I wouldn’t think much about it throughout the day. I would think about it and re-read the chapter during the time between classes, or during lunch. Today was different. We’re in the middle of exam season. Today’s exam had to be done in a very small amount of time, only an hour. All of it was writing and analyzing. It’s 20% of the grade for the class. I spent 15 minutes of said exam just thinking about Heartstopper.

Here’s the thing about me. I have the tendency to fall in love with fiction. I will find something new, a book, a series, whatever, and consume all of it, engage with the fandom, consume all of it again, and repeat the whole thing until I find something new.

I engaged with Heartstopper a while after it had first been presented to me. Just like right now, it was the middle of exam season and I needed to get my mind off of things. I opened Tapas, which I often use to read things, mostly fan comics. I saw that Heartstopper was in there for free. I thought it was odd, but I was bored and tired, so I began reading.

I read the whole thing in two days, only three hours or something like that. At first, it became something like a comfort for me. A world that resembled the real world but made it its ideal version. Heartstopper presented me with a dream-like gay relationship, filled with self-discovery, varied characters, and, once again, an idealized version of the world.

It was so liberating at first. What if the world was like that? What if we didn’t have to fear people that much? What if life could be so filled with love?

Then it got dark.

Holy- then it got dark. It broke me, but I loved it. Gosh, I really did. I love stories about mental health. I love reading about how life can break a human being, but at the same time, how it can slowly and carefully put them back together. Sure, life is not perfect, and therefore, a person will never be fixed, and they will never be “how they used to be”, but life can persevere through darkness and pain. Life can get better. That’s what I chose to believe.

I’ve always related more to Charlie than to any other Heartstopper character, (aside from Tori, but she doesn’t really count as a Heartstopper character). We both struggle with similar issues, and we both deal with them in similar ways. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, baby~!

This arc of Nick trying to choose a university is significant to me, mostly because I’m having the same issues as him. I’m supposed to have figured out what I’m going to do, and I’m supposed to know where that’s going to be. I don’t know anything. I know what area I’m interested in, but that’s still not enough.

Currently, Nick is touring universities with his friends, trying to make plans for the future, while figuring out whether or not he’s willing to leave behind the people he loves for the sake of his education and personal growth.

That struck a nerve in me. I’m also terrified of leaving behind my friends, who are essentially my family. I want to be the best version possible of me. I want to have these new, meaningful, and life-altering experiences.

When I was younger, I used to think that I wouldn’t make it far. I thought that I would die young and I would be at fault for that. I found hope and comfort whenever I thought about college. I always thought/dreamed about leaving everything behind, going to the US, and living the “American Dream”. I never cared whether or not it was doable, it was my dream and it was going to happen one way or another.

Now I’m older. Somehow still alive. More bitter than before. Sadly enough, I don’t allow myself to dream about those things anymore and still believe that they can and will happen. Now, my perception of the US has been broken and I’m truly afraid of even going there.

Back to Heartstopper 7-30, Nick and the gang visit the University of Leeds. Nothing seems to particularly catch their eye, but they speak with a student, and things change.

Nick gets asked the question. That haunting question that almost seems to chase you down. “What are you thinking of studying?” Then comes the dreaded answer, “I’m still undecided.” Lucky for him, he doesn’t seem to take it in a bad way or overanalyze the situation.

How the social life is described to Nick attracts him to the university. He’s interested in the sports facilities, because he’s our rugby boy, so of course he would be. The person he’s talking to tells him that their partner is in the team, and that they are really enjoying it.

That’s the moment in which, even if isn’t consciously, Nick makes his decision. He turns around and sees a group of students playing rugby. One of them turns around and waves at them, signifying that they are the other one’s partner. The rest of the group just looks at them and smile.

They just seem to accept each other no matter what. They show affection between them and don’t even question it. That means the world to Nick. That’s everything he wants. A community. To be accepted. To be able to engage in one of his favorite activities, rugby, and not have to hide who he truly is. He sees himself as one of them. Straight up, imagines himself in their shoes, and he finally finds what he’s looking for.

A year ago, I started telling myself that I should figure things out. I went to a fair with multiple international universities that offered different programs for students from my country. At the end of the day, the dream never fully dies, I guess. I still want that god-forsaken college experience that appears in books and movies. That feeling of community. Anything.

I found this public university in the middle of nowhere, but it truly did captivate me. I don’t even remember why. Cool mascot, a nice ambiance. Good enough. I looked them up on Instagram and fell in love. Their posts were truly everything I had ever dreamed of. Community, acceptance, fun, pure joy, and happiness on that campus.

Then, what meant the most to me: an LGBTQIA2S+ organization. Queer-friendly spaces. Monthly meeting just to talk. I can’t stress enough how relevant this one was for me at first, a bingo game night with drag queens.

Where I come from, people know that you’re queer and you’re dead, honestly. You will never hear the end of it. We isolate ourselves because we know that otherwise, we’d have to fight daily just to be tolerated, to be heard. We’d have to argue why our existence is okay.

This idea of being out, the whole concept to me is wild. I genuinely never considered it a possibility. Being openly queer, alongside other openly queer people is something revolutionary in my head. I do mean it.

I understand Nick. Finally finding a place where you think that you could actually belong is such a liberating experience. The idea of “I could be there”, “I could be one of them”, “I could be myself and not have to worry”. It changes everything. It genuinely does.

I truly do hope that Nick finds himself at home in Leeds. I wish him only the best. May he figure out what he wants to do, and may he be happy doing it.

Now, time for. Charlie.

He barely even appears on this update, yet, his actions are incredibly relevant, both to his character development and to all of the people reading.

Charlie’s mental health has been all over the place, that’s something everyone who has ever interacted with Heartstopper knows. Most fans can also say that they relate to this. A pretty big amount of the fans of this saga would say that they consider themselves LGBTQIA2S+ and/or people who are currently or in the past have struggled with their mental health.

The beauty of Heartstopper is that we get to see these characters grow, not only grow older, but also grow emotionally. They get to learn about themselves. They get to battle their internal conflicts and win them.

Charlie means a lot to a lot of people. He means a lot to me. He is, in some way or another, a reflection of myself. My issues. My life. Which is really worrying, actually, but it does mean something. People relate to him. He is a good enough representation of mental health issues for people to be able to identify with him.

In this update, Charlie wants Nick to see him without his shirt on for the first time ever. This is such a big step for him. For his recovery. Charlie has many self-image issues, especially around his arms and torso. All of us readers know how hard this was for him, therefore, we know how much this moment means.

I love that it wasn’t like a gigantic revelation that was reacted to in an exaggerated manner. Nick, being Nick, just blushed heavily. He truly is the personification of ‘bi crisis’. Good for him.

Some of Charlie’s biggest insecurities, as seen in 7-13, are the fact that he’s skinny and has scars. The entirety of chapter 7 has focused on how hard this is on him, and how much it affects his daily life.

Him taking off his shirt doesn’t mean that he overcame this issues. Recovery isn’t linear. This action only means that he’s finally comfortable enough to try. That’s all that recovery really is. Trying, hoping, to get better.

As the audience, an outsider looking in, we have seen Charlie shirtless before. Something new happened this time. We saw something that we didn’t need to see, but some of us, me included, are glad we saw. We saw Charlie’s self-harm scars.

It could be stupid. It could be worthless, but it meant a lot to many of us. It meant a lot to Charlie.

Charlie finally feels confident enough with himself to show this part of him to his boyfriend. Sure, he trusts him with all of his very being. Charlie is well aware that Nick will never judge him for it, but his mind doesn’t see it that way. Charlie is in a fight of will against himself. He wants this, he truly does, but there’s a voice in his head telling him that everything could go wrong. Even if it’s illogical. Even if he knows that it is.

I love how Alice just subtly writes onto the story small details that will later on become important for the plot. They don’t even have to be really important. Them being there is enough. Every single time in which he holds onto his arm, or anyone touches that specific area, there’s always a reaction from him. Every time he feels insecure, he holds onto that specific area.

It could be because I’m an angst-loving fanfic reader/writer, but I always wanted to see those scars. It might be a morbid thought, but I really did want to. We didn’t need it, sure, but seeing them shows that they aren’t just a plot devise. We know that they aren’t only that, but it’s just one of those illogical thoughts that one might have.

Seeing them shows their severity. Seeing them shows how far Charlie has come.

To me, seeing them meant seeing someone like me in a book. On a published book. In the future, on a TV show.

It is one thing to read about it in fan fiction, in people’s blogs, on YouTube videos of people who are getting better, or anything like that. Anyone can post that. It being on something published in that way, something edited and checked by so many people, something that could be professionally translated onto other languages, something that at some point we may find in a library. It means a lot to me.

Alice Oseman’s book Loveless caused the same impact on me. My first time reading a book where there were asexual and/or aromantic characters, non-binary characters. There are people like me in media. In books. In my home country, as oddly homophobic and transphobic as it is, I can go to a bookstore and buy myself a copy of this book. It is real. I am, in fact, not faking all of this. Other people are like me.

Six years I’ve been hiding my arms from the world. I’ve spent my whole life hiding my legs, but three or four years ago I began hiding them for other reasons as well.

Six years ago someone finally asked me, in a worried tone, what happened to my arms. People had asked before, but no one ever asked as if they were concerned. Six years ago it happened for the first and only time. I haven’t worn a sleeveless shirt outside of my room in all that time. I don’t know if I ever will.

Charlie gives me hope. Maybe, one day I will. Who knows. I don’t really want to do that now, but if I ever do, I know that I could.

It is nice to see oneself represented in media. Small representation means something. A more relevant role means even more though.

As a child from a pretty ignored country, I found myself represented in Elena of Avalor, in Marco Díaz from Star vs. the Forces of Evil. Neither one of them was from my country, not even close, but it was as close as I could get.

Representation to me meant the beginning and sometimes end of the Jurassic Park movies, “Isla Nublar, 120 miles west of Costa Rica.” That island doesn’t even exist.

Nowadays, there’s an NCIS character who at some point talks about wanting to move to a beach in Costa Rica. I thought that was going to be it. She would retire, never be seen again on screen, but would still call every once in a while. I don’t regularly watch NCIS, but I pick it up randomly at times. Recently I saw that she didn’t even move to Costa Rica, so that’s that for my “representation.” I don’t know what has happened since, I mean it when I say that I don’t really know what happens on NCIS.

Representation can come in many different forms, in this case, it comes in the shape of a boy who only wants to belong somewhere, and another one finding his place, and finding comfort in his own body after struggling with it for so long.

Representation shows people that they aren’t alone. It shows how important it is to see someone like you on any type of media.

The mere acknowledgment of one’s identity or existence is an indescribable feeling. Seeing oneself in any type of media genuinely causes a great impact.

Representation is necessary, and it not only helps people feel seen, but it also teaches others about different aspects of life that they might not think about. People’s lives are different. Representation helps to put it into perspective.

-Mori (They/Xem)