#this has been in my drafts for like...800 years

[davisbette]

Intermezzo (1939)

- dir. Gregory Ratoff

[reshinless]

──── on your knees now

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. childhood frenemies w benefits w bladie (kinda)

𝜗𝜚 pairings. blade x gn!afab!reader (take this however you want. cuz this has pussy eating, you can imagine it as ass instead tho :P. + masturbation from blade' s side), !!nsfw content ahead!!

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. old draft on my old blog (plus rewrote a lot of the stuff) again lol

𝜗𝜚 word count. 800+ !!

blade who's so in love with you, he hates it so much. nothing he's more hungry for. all this time he's been so against you, especially when you both joined the stellaron hunters, his addiction to you got even worse

blade who spread the precum of his cock down onto its base, this hasn't felt more pleasureable. why does he feel like this .. thinking of you?

blade who can't help but let out small moans of your name, biting his shirt just to keep himself quiet, as he stroked his cock slowly, his movements only get faster when he can imagine you sliding down slowly onto his cock, only getting turned on more by his imagination

oh.. the sight of seeing your hole sink down onto his cock.. he gasped as he slowly stroked his length back up. blade whose cock feels so sensitive, thinking about you riding him so slowly and sensually.

ahh even right now, your legs spread wide open and thighs squeezing his face close to your scent. the way blade's lengthy tongue would kiss your velvety walls, you can't help but clench down on it.

even more so when he gets you to come over and over again, letting it all squirt on his tongue, gladly lapping up whatever he could get. blade eats you out like a starved man, one who hasn't ate in years.

letting you sit on his face, your hands in his hair as he only fastened his pace inside you. blade who just can't help but stroke his dick, watching your expression only turned him on all the more.

it's only when he finishes with you, warm semen landing on his own stomach as you came into his mouth. only now is when blade would hold you down with his calloused hands, your thighs in his hold, making sure you wouldn't get off just yet.. no he needed everything.

to put you into a mating press like this just after fulfilling another one of his fantasies shittt he was hard again. gladly pumping his dick down into you, the warm feeling on his cock felt great, and getting to see how good he made you feel, hearing every little sound, every little moan, every arch, every breathy whisper of his name, he felt like he could fuck you forever.

moon shaped marks left on your hips as he held you rough and close, blade couldn't help but lean down, and kiss you, but it was a lot more gentle and soft, in contrast to his unrestrained strikes to your stomach, the mark only getting clearer.

the bulge in your stomach could only worsen, as he whispered into your ear, lust clear in his tone, "so good right? so good you won't let anyone else fuck you like i do right?" blade's possessive side could only get gradually worse

blade who grinds into your g-spot, letting you see how good he treats you after what seems like your 5th climax, still so sensitive, you couldn't do anything but let out whimpers of pleasure,

blade who makes sure you look into the mirror in front of you both while sitting on the edge of the bed, one of his hand on your waist, and the other on your jaw, making you face your reflection

but blade who makes sure to hold your hand throughout everything because it's a habit he's had ever since you both were kids, even when you both hated each other, whenever other tried to hit on you, his hand was already intertwined with yours, and ready to defend you against the catcaller

blade's possessive side which wouldn't allow himself to let anyone else see you so vulnerable like this, but at the same time only got more turned on from the thought of fucking while on the astral express. or wherever you can imagine

blade who makes you sit on his face, knowing how stressed you must be after claiming another stellaron by his side. not even needing words, you already knew what he meant when he led you to another room

blade who loves to see the way you rock back and forth while you take it from behind, watching how he slowly sinks into you, only to quicken the pace right after observing such a sight.

but also blade's aftercare game is insanely good, i don't see him treating you bad at all. in fact is a lot more gentle, and talks in a softer tone while spooning you

blade's aftercare game so good he always makes sure that you're okay with what you both have been doing (i don't see any character in-game allowing non-con personally)

blade who still won't admit he loves you, but he does, and like the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.

[satorusluver]

Wanna Bet?

Satosugu x female reader

Minors DNI

Tags/Warnings: smut, threesome sort of, slight breast play, alcohol mention (they're sober tho), princess as a nickname because it's my weakness lol

Word count: 800 ish

A/N: Idek what this is, it was just a scene in my head that's been sitting in my drafts so *throws it at you and runs*

You stare down at the panting mess of your friend Satoru under you. He's sprawled out on the bed, white hair blending in with the pillowcase. His hands are gripping your thighs and his fingertips lightly dig into the soft flesh as you grind back and forth on him, the outer lips of your pussy sliding up and down the length of his hard dick. You've been doing this for a couple of minutes now, never working up the courage to actually put it in. It's clearly getting to Satoru, who looks like he'd be about ready to start begging if his pride would let him, which it won't. But now he's chewing on his lower lip almost hard enough to break the skin, and his icy blue eyes keep rolling back as he gently grinds up against you. The stimulation feels good, but never quite enough.

"I don't know what you're so afraid of, it's not like you're a virgin." You hear the deep voice of Suguru from behind you and feel his large hands ghost over the curve of your waist.

"I-I know...but look at him, he's huge," you stammer, looking to where the fat head of Satoru's cock is peeking out from between your pussy lips.

"He's no bigger than me," Suguru replies smugly, his hands still trailing up your waist until he cups your breasts, and although you can't see his face, you can hear the grin in his voice. "Don't tell me you're too much of a baby to sit on a dick?"

"If you keep talking shit, I'm not gonna let you fuck me after him," you hiss, your hips still slowly moving back and forth on Satoru's length, the friction against your clit causing you to stifle a moan as you try to sound firm.

"You're the one who got drunk the other night and admitted you've always wanted to know what both of our dicks felt like." As he speaks, the pads of Suguru's thumbs tease your nipples until they stiffen under his touch.

God, that was embarrassing of you. But really, who could blame you when you had two of the most attractive men you'd ever seen as your closest friends? It's honestly a miracle it took so many years for you to let your attraction to them slip.

"Well, you guys are the ones who said you wanted to actually let me do it!"

"We did. So why don't you go ahead and actually put it in?" Satoru finally speaks, bucking his hips impatiently. He's trying to keep his cool, but a hint of desperation is creeping into his usually cocky voice.

"He's right, haven't you tortured poor Toru enough? Come on, lift your hips a little. I'll help you since you apparently need it..."

You do as Suguru says, lifting your hips up, and you watch as his hand curls around the base of Satoru's dick so casually you're a little thrown off by it. The lack of any and all hesitation has you silently wondering if he'd done it before, but you don't have much time to think about it before Suguru is lining up the head of Satoru's cock with your entrance, gently moving it back and forth against your slit to get it wet enough to go in with ease.

"Go on then, princess. Or do you need me to hold your hand, too?" Suguru's making fun of you, but he actually does interlace the fingers of his free hand with yours, and his lips brush against your own affectionately.

You groan into Suguru's mouth the moment you finally sink down onto Satoru's cock, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smirk at the sound you make. You take in a sharp breath at the stinging feeling the stretch causes once you feel him bottom out. For a moment, you're silently cursing yourself for ever admitting you wanted to try this, but then your walls begin to adjust to his size and the pain begins to melt away until all that's left is the feeling of being deliciously and utterly full in a way you've never felt before.

"Fuck," Satoru curses, "she's so fuckin' tight."

"Yeahhh?" Suguru drawls, his voice somehow sounding even lower than usual. "You look like you're trying not to blow your load already," he chuckles. Well, at least you're not the only one he's poking fun at.

"I'll last longer than you," Satoru insists, although his teeth are gritted slightly as though he's already struggling with his self-control.

"You wanna bet? We got all night after all, don't we, princess?" You feel Suguru's hot breath just below your ear before he playfully nips at the sensitive skin there, and you brace yourself for what is about to be a very long night.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hello, can I request a dream x reader where reader is his girlfriend and she gets pregnant and how they would both deal with that situation. Maybe a scene with there daughter years later

Aisle 43

Pettiness knows no bounds, especially when you're one of the Endless. This means that if a toddler is what's standing in Dream's way, then it's still very much fair game.

Dream of the Endless x Reader | 800+ | cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, vague themes of pregnancy/motherhood, jealousy, super-megapetty!Dream of the Endless, Matthew the 'I'm just happy to be here' Raven, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hi my love... i may have totally forgotten I had this in my drafts asfhasfha;sfhasfh sorreh. I JUST DID A DRABBLE BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS MELTING CURRENTLY. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

I hum as I make my way out of the soup aisle. The little girl that's been following me around the supermarket tugs at my hand repeatedly. I look down at her and she immediately points, "cereal?"

I turn to the pink cereal box she wanted and flatten my lips into a smile, "sorry, kiddo, you're gonna have to-"

"Why are you with a child?"

Both said child and I look up and see a darkly dressed man in the middle of two shelves with brightly colored items. The girl that barely reached my hips looks up at the dark silhouette then grabs my hand. She mumbles, "nightmare."

Said nightmare raises a brow. It was almost as if a dark haze began to form around him. A raven swoops down and lands on his shoulder.

In stark juxtaposition, Matthew the raven chirpily greets me and adds, "mind getting me some cornflakes?"

I push my cart forward, drawing near both them, and the item. I grab the cornflakes and go to the side of the sullen looking being. I tilt my head, "Dream?"

Dream, who has not torn his gaze away from the child, finally spares me a glance. I free my hand of the cornflakes, dropping into my cart, and use it to cup his cheek. His expression softens.

My other hand, still being tugged by the baby girl, is now tucked behind me. She peeps cautiously from my shoulder.

"I'm going grocery shopping with my coworker."

"Your coworker is a child?" Dream says with a hurt expression.

I make a face but sigh. Suddenly, the dull pain on my back is blatant. I rub my round belly that was the cause of it, "yeah. Beatrice is a prodigy. She does our work better than anyone in the department."

Dream frowns and deflates even more.

I raise my brows.

Matthew croaks as he cocks his head. He whispers, "he's been upset that you haven't been sleeping properly."

"You've not been in my realm for ages," Dream knits his brows tightly, "yet here you are with a child that is not even your own."

When Dream comes close to touch me, Beatrice whimpers and pulls me back. She panics, "nightmare! Nightmare!"

The strength of the child is not enough to make me fall back, but it is enough to make me lose my balance. I feel myself slowly lose my footing. Dream grabs me before anything happens though.

The glare that he throws at Beatrice makes her instantly clamor.

If her wailing wasn't enough to make me panic, then it was when she ran away. I turn to run after her, but Dream grabs my arm before I can get anywhere.

"Let me go!" I snap.

"But-"

"I can't lose my coworkers kid!"

"Don't worry!" Matthew takes off, "I'll keep an eye on her."

I watch as Matthew soars above the aisles and then look back down to glare at Dream. I pull my arm out of his grip, "you terrified a four year old."

Dream glares back, "she was stealing you away."

I am flabbergasted. "You literally put a baby inside me!" I motion to my baby bump and give an exasperated look, "yet you're intimidated by a 40 pound little girl- who, by the way, barely even makes up a fraction of how old you are."

He does not argue with this. He has no argument with it. Instead, he mumbles, "you dreamed of her when you napped."

I roll my eyes, "and how many times have I dreamed of you, my lord?"

He turns away, eyes landing on my belly. He pouts and stares a moment before he rubs it, "I do not enjoy when I must share your dreams with others."

The idea is equal parts exhausting, irrational, and somehow darling.

"What if I dream about our baby?" I raise a brow.

He lifts his eyes. He looks like he actually was mentally debating in that split second it took for him to reply. Dream speaks, "I would be willing to share with the blood of my blood."

I scoff and roll my eyes yet again.

He kisses my temple. A part of my hard expression chips away. I offer him an exasperated look.

Dream makes a face, "was I too much?"

I nod.

"I've got good news and bad news," Matthew calls as he swoops down, "good news, Beatrice found her mom and stopped crying!"

I release a sigh of relief.

"Bad news, she may be traumatized for life, because when a man wearing a black trench coat passed by, she started breaking down all over again."

My relief evaporates and I shoot a hard glare at Dream before pushing him out of the way. I drag my cart along with me as I walk off to look for them.

Matthew perches on the edge of the cart, "oooh, mind if we get some sunflower seeds too?"

"Not at all, my love."

Dream grumbles upon hearing this and watches as we take a turn on the candy aisle.

[budd-ie]

Desperately need to break down two people and one cup of water because I have like 10 drafts about xianle trio that I Can't Post because they all feed off of conclusions from each of their answers, except we haven't established what those conclusions are yet. So this is where that starts.

I once had a wake up in a cold sweat realization (the first of many) that the three of them represent three different paths in their respective answers, and how these answers give us so much insight into who they really are and how they typically act. And I realize this is probably a very basic and prevalent thing (especially come book 3) but I haven't seen it broken down recently, so I'd like to. But mostly I need it as my context and support for my other future claims or else they might not make any sense haha. So I’ll be relating these answers directly to events in book 3. Let's get into it.

“Two walked the desert, about to die from thirst, and there was only one cup of water. The one who drinks lives, the one who doesn’t dies. If you were a god, who would you give that cup of water to— don’t speak yet, I’ll ask the other two and see how they answer.”

Mu Qing's answer:

“May I ask who those two people are, what their natures are like, and of their merits? A decision can only be made once all the details are known.”

Feng Xin's answer:

“I don’t know! Don’t ask me—tell them to decide amongst themselves!”

Xie Lian's answer:

“Give them another cup."

TLDR:

When faced with a choice such as this...

Xie Lian will try to save both parties at all costs, even if that cost is himself. His sense of justice is the strongest above all and believes that innocent people should never have to suffer.

Feng Xin will put someone else in charge of the choice and act on their behalf. He isn't as good at making decisions, and feels most comfortable standing behind someone else he trusts.

Mu Qing will choose whatever option brings the best/most desirable outcome that is within his control without sacrificing himself. He is a logical thinker above all else and is used to making moral sacrifices to find the optimal yet most realistic outcome of a situation.

(Book 3 and some book 6 spoilers ahead)

We know that Xie Lian's desire to expand the resource is beautiful but impossible, and we know that giving equal amounts of half the cup of water to both people will still leave them both as dead as not giving it at all. We also know that he learned his lesson the hard way and doesn't stop learning it even 800 years later. We know how Xianle fell and we know that it was doomed from the beginning; there was no saving it, but even if there was, he would have to choose between Xianle and Yong'an. Finally, we know that when he has nothing left to give, he will give himself up for the outcome he desires. We spend so much time with Xie Lian that I won't focus on trying to prove what's already been proven. Instead, I'll focus on the other two.

Mu Qing's answer is unpalatable to most people, because it sounds like he accepts being put in charge of answering the question "who deserves to live and who deserves to die?" It's easy to judge him for his willingness to make these kinds of sacrifices, but this is the exact nature of the question, and the exact situation they find themselves in so often. By both this answer and patterns within his actions, I think Mu Qing can best be described as an extremely logical thinker who will choose whatever option brings the best/most desirable outcome without sacrificing himself too far. That doesn't mean he'll never push his luck, but this is the algorithmic way we most often see him thinking.

By the terms of the riddle, the most logical option is that one person gets water and one person doesn’t, and the giver will decide who gets it to avoid conflict. And Mu Qing doesn’t choose randomly, either; he wants to choose based on their characters, their backgrounds, their merits, etc. So the other two may be treating everyone equally, but sometimes that’s just not within your control. Mu Qing is an incredibly logical person, so to optimize the good that can come from this action, he will make the choice. It’s not easy, and could end either way, but at least someone is guaranteed to live. In fact, this is the only outcome in which someone is guaranteed to live. I'll summarize some other examples of his thought process in the future, but I'll focus on the most relevant example for now.

In book 3, Mu Qing is the first one to suggest cursing Yong’an with human face disease in order to save Xianle. A "despicable" choice as they conclude, but Xie Lian, I will add, does thoroughly consider his suggestions before declining, and while the persuasion is ineffective, it isn't 100% ineffective. In the end though, Xie Lian is weighing the option of “people in the capital probably live and the people of Yong’an as well as the dead suffer for it” and he isn’t willing to make this bargain in the end. He doesn’t know if it could backfire and isn’t satisfied with the amount of bad that could come from it. Mu Qing, on the other hand, is adamant about this decision and gets frustrated that Xie Lian won’t make it. He's even excited about his answer, not because he wants people to die, but because he found themselves a viable way out. It feels so easy to him, because he’s weighing the net good of “we fucking live” and “we fucking die.” Turns out living is a lot more appealing than dying, especially for a character who canonically loves his life and is terrified of death. Isn’t this the same mindset as the rest of the common people?

I've established before that Xie Lian is not the common people. Growing up poor though, Mu Qing is like, common people extraordinaire. Unlike Xie Lian, he’s long since accepted that not everybody can be saved, not everybody can be placated, some people are good and nice and some people suck and are not. Mu Qing is used to making sacrifices for the greater good, ignoring morality to a digestible extent, because it’s something that common people have to do to get by. This situation reminds me of this quote from when the townsfolk are getting admonished for mutilating themselves to get rid of human face disease:

“Your Highness is invincible, so of course you'd call us foolish. But aren’t our conditions so desperate that we had no choice but to try foolish methods?!”

And maybe we fixate a lot on “not everybody can be saved” but I think what matters to Mu Qing is more that some people can be saved. Why are we dawdling doing good because it’s not enough good? Don’t we learn from this that just one person enough? Mu Qing understands that in order to have a chance at saving themselves a decision must be made, and he tries to make his point clear when he says the following:

“Before they reach their bad end, we will have already perished! You don’t have a third path and there is no second cup of water. Wake up, Your Highness! You’re running out of time.”

The amount of suffering the common people have endured until now allows the average person to surpass the moral debacle and choose life above all else. Why did Xie Lian try to steal during his first banishment? Because he was so desperate to save himself and his family that morality became the lesser merit. When faced with the threat of human face disease and the solution of killing just one person to save themselves, the people who stab Xie Lian live, and the one who refuses the decision dies a horrible death. Does Mu Qing make a little more sense now? He saw not only a way to survive, but the expected solution to the problem, and he jumped at it. We as the audience can fixate on the moral implications of his decisions because we aren’t the ones making the decisions, nor are we affected by either outcome.

Speaking of a person not making decisions, this is where Feng Xin becomes relevant. His answer is to make no decision at all, leave it up to them to decide who drinks and who doesn't. While he's absolved from the moral quandary, this path doesn't really solve anything. There might be a chance where they choose peacefully who should drink, but it's much more realistic to expect them to slaughter each other over the resource before either of them have the chance to drink it.

So when faced with a major decision like this, what is Feng Xin most likely to do?

Entrust it to someone else, like Xie Lian.

As much as I love him, our poor boy's arrows are a bit sharper than he is. What’s he doing while Xie Lian and Mu Qing talk about curses?

At first, Feng Xin had listened to their argument glumly, and because he couldn’t contribute any better ideas, he didn’t join in.

Not a whole lot. Actually, he stands silently until Mu Qing insults Xie Lian. After that, he shoves Mu Qing back and suddenly starts going off on him, saying things like

“With an apathetic person like him, you don’t usually see any sign that he actually cares about the Kingdom of Xianle. But now suddenly he’s anxious?”

and especially:

“You really think I can’t tell that you think His Highness is a fool? I can tolerate your sarcasm and those rolling eyes, I can tolerate you always standing where you shouldn’t in the Upper Court. You like to show off and it’s hardly the first time you’ve pulled this shit, so fine, go show off, you’re not good enough to wow the heavens anyway. His Highness doesn’t mind, so I don’t give a shit either. But since you’re gonna cross the line, I’m not gonna hold back. Listen up! I’m not surprised you’d leap at the chance to use despicable means, but His Highness is His Highness—no matter what he decides, you better respect it. Don’t you dare be so critical, and don’t forget who the fuck you are!”

This is only an excerpt of the rant because the first part isn't as relevant but this whole scene is so crazy. Crazy because it's so raw (that last line is so jaw dropping to me like actually. If someone said all that to me I’d go rogue) and also because it tells us so much about them.

First, "despicable" is actually a word Xie Lian used earlier when he said the following:

“Absolutely not! Don’t forget what we called them when they attacked the innocent civilians of the capital: despicable. If we do the same thing, won’t we become just as despicable? How would we be any different?”

Which means this isn't completely Feng Xin's own judgment. Right now, he's just using Xie Lian's opinion as an in to justify his own personal rage. Xie Lian isn't even calling Mu Qing despicable; he fully believes in Mu Qing, understands how he came to his conclusion, and doesn't blame him for having a temper (he already knows he's sensitive and prone to it, he defends him saying he’s “just anxious over the current situation”). While we do know it definitely reflects Feng Xin's moral opinion on attacking innocents (“If it really was them, then I’ll lose respect for them. Fight honestly on the battlefield if you have the ability; don’t use shady tricks to harm innocent civilians!”), it's less reflective of his intentions in this specific instance.

Second, this whole rant is fueled by nothing but pent up rage that was sparked by Mu Qing insulting Xie Lian, giving him a hard time, and going against his decision. Feng Xin judges him hard for his "despicable" choice, but Feng Xin doesn't even have any other opinions on how to solve the actual problem at hand. His opinion is whatever Xie Lian decides, for his highness is so smart and virtuous, clearly that must be the right one, especially when compared to that of a humble servant.

But what would Feng Xin do if Xie Lian decided Mu Qing was right? What if Xie Lian decided that they desperately needed to curse all Yong'an citizens to die so Xianle might be able to live? Would this still be a despicable decision to Feng Xin if Xie Lian decided it wasn't so bad? I have reason to believe that his sense of morality, though great, may be slightly lesser than his sense of loyalty (assuming the person he is loyal to is virtuous and acceptable to him, such is Xie Lian). This is supported by how in the revised book 6 scene, Feng Xin doesn’t leave because he’s questioning Xie Lian’s morality, he leaves because Xie Lian relieves him of his duty and he obeys the order. He’s surprised when this happens and seems hesitant, despite it all. While we don’t really have any specific instance testing this hypothetical, my hypothesis is that any moral complications he could have would come after acting on his highness's word, and if Xie Lian said this was the right choice, he would rationalize it (I also think there’s a graph with an intersection between his morality and loyalty after which morality will start surpassing loyalty when the situation is pushed far enough to warrant it). In any case, the consequences of their actions will not fall on Feng Xin's shoulders, so he doesn't think too hard about the implications of the actions, he just excels at following orders from the boss; that's why its so easy for him to make these judgments.

I also think this explains the way he acts during book 1 where he always looks like he has something to say and never chooses to, always looking just a little lost at what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s given a choice of talk to Xie Lian or not talk to him, but he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do and can’t figure it out on his own, so he chooses the safe option of doing nothing. He’s always looked towards Xie Lian to make decisions, but he doesn’t have that anymore. We actually see him start getting more confident in decision making as the book goes on, like when he congratulated him for his 3000 lanterns (I like how he doesn’t question where they came from though!).

Anyways, I forgot how important book 3 was for characterization of these three because everything they do can be drawn back here. The number one reason I like this story is the way every single character is so individual and has very specific motivations and personalities that can and will clash in very specific ways with other characters, which is how a lot of the conflicts arise in the first place (instead of throwing people at a plot and hoping they can carry it). It makes it so interesting when you know why they act the way they do. Also, this isn't a complete character summary by any means, there’s obviously more to these fellas that I didn’t talk about. I can think of other instances that support these conclusions, but because this is already such a long post maybe I'll make a masterlist or something and link them when I finish them (thanks!)

[avelera]

Avelera's Dreamling Fic Status Update:

Keeping Sanctuary (subscribe for updates here) - Giving Sanctuary Sequel follows Dream and Hob from the events of the altered meeting in 1689 up to the modern era. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1689 meeting?) Current word count: ~7,000 words across several chapters. Realistic progress update: 1/10 complete total, Ch. 1 is about 1/5 complete.

(The rest are below the cut!)

Come live with me and be my love - Dream and Hob fall in love during the Regency Era when Dream loses a bet to Desire. Shenanigans ensue. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1789 meeting?) Ch. 16 is at 2,500 words, probably about 1/3 done. Current plan is to wrap up Part 1 in the next few chapters then create a part 2 which finishes out their "1 year of marriage" on a month by month basis instead of following them day to day like Part 1 done. Probably won't be a separate fic though, just a change of format.

This Rough Magic - My take on "Hob rescues Dream from Burgess" with a twist that Hob ends up on Burgess's radar himself when he picked up some occult magic skills in the hopes of contacting Dream after 1889 and apologizing. Now he has to pretend to be friends with Burgess in order to get them both out of there, because Burgess thinks Hob can help force Dream to give him immortality. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1889 meeting?) Ch. 9 is about 800 words in. Story is still very much in progress I just have a lot of WIPs, as you can see.

Joke's On You (I'm Into That) - The 1589 meeting goes very different when Hob proposes to Dream, who is so offended that he just can't let the matter go. A very angry, very horny competition kicks off between them. (Aka, what if they hooked up in 1589 when they were both at their absolute worst as people?) I have literally 40,000 words written for the rest of this fic. The problem is, there's big gaps in that first draft I have to fill in and scenes that need to be added. This might be my favorite WIP but it's also the hardest to write with all the smut scenes so it'll arrive whenever I can manage, I'm afraid.

Banana Daiquiris Ch. 2 - Comic-canon compliant (mostly) - Dream fakes his death to go on a vacation with Hob and Destruction. They end up in Tahiti. Destruction plays matchmaker. Hob doesn't know whether to thank Destruction or strangle him. Current word count 6,000 words. I've been playing around with adding on to this fic for ages. One of these days, I'll pull it all together.

Great Triumphs and Tragedies - aka, "Dream Accidentally Cursed Hob with a Normal Life" Fic - Dream learns that from 1689 on, Hob's life has been safe. Too safe. Improbably safe. Nothing bad or extraordinary or even terribly special has happened to him since Dream began to consider Hob his friend. He knows this because during his imprisonment, Hob's life became exciting again and suddenly went back to normal the day Dream was freed. Hob is not convinced that Dream is the reason for this, Dream disagrees. They talk about it. And fight about it. And some things that they've probably needed to talk about for a long time finally get said. (aka, sometimes the author just needs to write their weird headcanon into a 20,000 word fic that's almost entirely dialogue). Current word count: 19,000 words and about 80-90% finished, 3 of 4 chapters written. I'm hoping that posting what I've got will help push me through the final stretch. Real life interrupted for a bit though.

Unraveling Centuries, aka the Hob Amesia Fic - Dream and Hob are dating officially now in the 21st century when Hob gets hit with what seems to be a memory loss curse, shaving off 100 years of his life each day until Dream finds a cure. This effectively grants Dream a walk down memory lane as he is reacquainted with the Hob of each era and, in the process, learns how much longer Hob cared for him than Dream ever realized. Current word count: 40,000 words. Currently writing 1489 (1889-1589 are done) and re-writing the opening. First chapter is posted!

And for fics that haven't been posted anywhere yet (you can subscribe on my Ao3 author page for alerts about them):

"Fairy God Marlowe" - 1589 fixit fic where Hob and Kit Marlowe strike up a conversation while Dream and Shaxberd are talking. Hob and Marlowe talk about plays, and faith, and salvation, and queer love, and what it means to live forever. Hob gets a second chance at a first impression. Current word count: ~5,000 words. Sadly, it's all dialogue in script format. I'd need to convert it into prose to publish which would be a slog. So it's a bit shelved until I find the energy to do so. No, I will not post it in script format, I'm allergic to the thought.

I've got a few other concepts kicking around, but these are the ones that actually have (*does a quick calculation*) over 100,000 words written that I haven't had the chance to post yet?? And it's driving me insane????

Anyway, I should probably pin this post for those curious lol. Feel free to ask me any follow-up questions, I love talking about WIPs even as they ruin my life!

[meichenxi]

Hanzi update (+accidental trauma talk)

tw illness, trauma, vomiting, weight loss, recovery. I didn't plan to write about this but because of what happened in the last year I can't really write about how I studied Chinese without talking about it. so. but it's mainly about hanzi lol

I've been learning how to write traditional characters with the vague idea that I'd go and study in Taiwan, and also that if I want to write Classical Chinese or Japanese they're far more useful - but the program I want to go to Taiwan for requires HSK7, which I DO not think I can achieve and have the results of before March. Who knows! Perhaps within me lies untold brilliance and dedication!!

...well, I wouldn't rely on it. (I am also busy with a job, a partner, studying an A-level course to begin tutoring it in September, and writing the second draft of my novel.)

And even if I ended up going to Taiwan with my absolutely fantastic HSK7, there's no way I could handwrite all of those words within a year. If I learn 10 characters a day, that's like 3650 characters in a year, but realistically that will never happen - and you still have to actually remember them.

I also know from my last experience where I learnt a stupid amount of characters very quickly (about 800 in two weeks) that I can technically do it, I have a very large swollen brain, but then the brain, being very large and very swollen, promptly burns out. And leaves me to not do any Chinese again for like two months. So basically - completely pointless, because after those two months of rest I had forgotten most of them anyway. I will not be doing that again.

This time around I have been slowly, very slowly, learning things on Skritter. I have about 400 characters so far. I'm not doing words but doing characters, which is a bit slower, but I figure it'll be more useful in the long run. After I have the first 1000, I'm planning to then systematically go through the HSK and TOCFL lists and check I know how to put characters together and which 'jing' is used in 'yijing' etc.

This approach is only really going to work because I know a lot of vocabulary and can read a lot of stuff already - otherwise I wouldn't recommend to anybody without that backbone of vocabulary to just learn random isolated characters, unless you're masochistic or much harder-core than I am.

As I have said in a lot of posts before, I had a very difficult experience in China last August and have basically taken an entire year off studying because in all honesty I just couldn't bring myself to face the language again. Every time I tried I had this crazy grief and nightmares and stress response. What I went through was so stressful that during those two months in China that I lost seven kilograms, as I couldn't eat much without vomiting it back up due to stress and fear, didn't sleep, and ended up having to leave for Thailand pretty severely malnutritioned - which then made me susceptible to illnesses there and I spent the next two months after with awful health, vomiting and weak and generally sick. Luckily I was with friends and I gained the weight again and my period and digestive system sorted itself out.

And I never expected that a language itself could carry trauma? Like. Nobody died, it wasn't like that, I wasn't abused or assaulted or anything but still...for just under a year, every time I spoke or heard or read Chinese I couldn't help thinking of those two months. Even now it's still hard. I'm finding my way back to it but, to be honest, I didn't expect how hard it would be. I thought I could just - move past it, because I'd already had so many great experiences in China and Taiwan and with Chinese, that they would cancel each other out or at least be aided by the huge amounts of love that the language has shown me. Alas, it was not the case.

Anyway. All of that to say - I have only managed to do about 400 characters in a year, because I essentially gave up studying completely.

Now I've just finished reviewing and re-remembering those 400 characters on Skritter, so I'm ready to start again! I don't know what's changed, I guess just time - I feel more positive, I feel curious and interested about the language again. I don't know. I'm not going to question it too deeply. But for these past two weeks, I've been having a lot of fun :)

I'll update everyone on my progress as I go! Next post - 500.

[cicada-heart]

omg 🥲

just found out that we were approved to start renting a house!!! i can finally move out of the shitty 800 foot apartment i’ve been in for like 8 years!!!

it has a yard and original hardwood floors plus lots of the original 50s built in shelving. but the best part is that i’ll FINALLY finally have my own studio space!! i’ve spent years working from a drafting table in my tiny living room and now i’ll have an entire room of my own. i’m so so so fucking excited omgggg

[myrunwayarchive]

Do you have any collections from Palestinian designers you could share? 🩷

hey & thank u so much for this wonderful ask!! there’s defo a delay on my time accuracy with posts (often ive got like 800 photos in my drafts lol), so I do have some Palestinian inspired/created runways coming up, but in the meantime I'll point you to a couple Palestinian designers I love for anyone with the means to invest in!

tRASHY CLOTHING is probably the most well known (I have their runway in my drafts but will bump up!) but they are very queer and Palestinian run! I’d also refer to the GmBH collab with SEP from last men's week - an incredible Palestinian design team who create gorgeous textiles you should defo invest in. (Dilara Findikoglu walked for that show & has been an incredible voice for Palestine in the industry & I love her so much) obviously Michael & Hushi, which unfortunately closed in 2004 with the iconic keffiyeh dress that bella just wore to cannes (that collection is also being posted soon!), Zeid Hijazi graduated CSM last year & is defo on my designers-to-watch list, Aziz Bekhaou does some crazy performance art - have been having trouble sourcing HQ photos of his runways if anyone has links but he just did a big commercial keffiyeh collection to raise funds! 

my favourite niche reference would probably be Nicolas Ghesquire’s AW2007 Balenciaga collection - he reworked the keffiyeh material into scarves & skirts, so I’ll be reposting those! 

Palestinians are obviously pretty under-represented in fashion, and this is kind of just cursory knowledge that I have off the top of my head, but I'd be super happy to dig up anything in particular that you want to see!

In the meantime, I would urge everyone to donate & be active politically in whatever capacity you are able - this is obviously just a silly fashion blog, but I am incredibly happy to platform Palestinian designers and Palestine-inspired fashion wherever possible

[traegorn]

I need to stop doing this to myself.

(A Rant Where Trae Has Written Too Many Books This Month)

So since most of you started following me because of Witchcraft or podcast stuff, I realize a lot of you don't know how much fiction writing I do.

Primarily what I've published are comics. The big one is UnCONventional (which ran from December of 2009 to December of 2019), but I also did a steampunk comic called The Chronicles of Crosarth (which I put on hiatus in like 2018 intending to come back to... but I haven't, and I make no guarantee that I will even though over 650 of the 800 planned pages are done). Crosarth is... fine? The art isn't great in either of these, but UnCONventional carries itself with the humor.

But that's all old stuff. You may be like "Trae, what have you been producing for the last four years," and the answer is "not a lot." I got major creative block with the pandemic. Peregrine Lake, the "Northwoods Gothic" comic I was supposed to launch in 2020 (which has some characters from UnCONventional in it) didn't materialize when I said it would. What storytelling energy I had went into Stormwood & Associates and The Meatgrinder (my two actual play podcasts), but that was it.

And then 2023 happened, and the juices started flowing again.

Peregrine Lake is moving forward -- but with me just doing the writing. My urge to draw has not returned, but my urge to write has. A friend of mine, Ethan Flanagan, is drawing it, and I've written the first year of comics. It likely won't launch any time soon (the artist I'm working with is busy as hell so we want to get a shit-ton of the comic done before we launch it -- we have like the first month and a half of the comic ready?). But yeah -- it's happening. I hoping for Spring, but we'll see.

The other thing though is that I've started writing, like, novels. I've always had like twenty ideas in my head, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I decided to start with the idea I cared the least about (in case I fucked it up): A queer urban fantasy story.

In the last month and a half I've written complete drafts of two different novels in this setting, and am halfway through another one... and have another one outlined.

I, uh, had some ideas.

If you're asking yourself "Hey Trae -- what the fuck? That's a lot" you need to know a few things that aren't obvious. At one point in college, in 72 hours, I produced over 40 pages of text between three research papers. All were for 300 level courses, and I may have disassociated while writing them because I frankly don't remember most of it. But, like, they were decent papers.

One of those papers is in Google Scholar.

Anyway, yeah. I haven't been sleeping great because I've been obsessively writing, but you might ask "Why didn't you just write one and get it ready to publish?" That's a great question. Because I wrote a book, and when I was 3/4 of the way through it I realized something very important: This book would make a great sequel to a book I haven't written. I've been writing book two in a series where I haven't written book one yet.

Well fuck.

So I finished that draft, and I went and wrote book one. Now that book? That book I'm getting ready to publish. I expect to have it out in January. Part of my editing process involves setting what I think is a completed, good, revised draft down for a couple of weeks and then returning to it with fresh eyes. We're in that waiting period right now.

But I still had a bunch of energy.

So the first thing I did was a revising draft on book two (the one I wrote first), but I finished that. And had more energy. And more stories in this setting kept popping up.

So I started a third book. And I'm halfway through the first draft of that book. But then I realized yesterday... shit, this isn't book three.

This is book four.

I need stuff to happen before we get to this story.

So now I've outlined the actual book three, and am working on literally both of these books at once (I'll take a break for Christmas and then go do a final edit on Book One).

And... I'm just like... why am I like this?

I need to stop myself for a few days and get more sleep.

[alatariel-gildaen]

Everything's going wrong, and I really feel like I'm about to lose it.

Firstly, we're stuck in a maisonette with rising damp and mould, and the freeholders are doing precisely NOTHING about it all.

This has caused major respiratory conditions for all three of us. The worst of the damp and mould is in my disabled son's bedroom - this is what it currently looks like in there

The wallpaper and plaster have fallen away, the wall itself is actually wet, I'm cleaning mould up every day. We've had to throw away toys, bedding, books, and clothes of his that have been destroyed by mould.

We can't move, because we own the flat and no one will buy it with this problem, and we can't fix it ourselves, because its a structural issue that is the responsibility of the freeholder, and they have done nothing but ignore our pleas for the last 2 and a half years.

Ok, ready for the rollercoaster that's making me lose it? Strap in.

Now, as my son is disabled, and we're a relatively low income family, we were able to apply to the family fund for a holiday, something we've not been able to afford to do for YEARS.

This Friday, we're due to fly out to the south of France for a week. The FF awarded us £500 towards the holiday, but we had to pay the rest out of our savings, costing us just about £1200, and depleting our savings to nothing. We figured it'd be worth it - the holiday park we're going to sounds utterly perfect for him, with lots of nature, wildlife, and secure facilities with easy access. Something we simply wouldn't have even considered without the FF's help. Yes, it was still expensive, but the memories would be utterly priceless.

A couple of week's ago my car's engine light came on. Honestly something I'd probably be ignoring right now normally, but my husband was due to take his driving test in it this week before we fly out, and we are pretty sure that you can't take it in a car with the engine light showing. We managed to get it seen, and it requires around £800 worth of repairs. I cannot function without a car - it's absolutely vital for transporting my son and keeping him safe.

As I mentioned before, we've all had respiratory problems linked to the mould. My poor son seems to have a permanent frog in his throat. I've been diagnosed with asthma following a cough that I've had now since last November. A few weeks ago, my husband developed a similar nasty cough. And last week that cough suddenly got worse. He was vomiting due to the cough, in pain from head to toe, shivering and shaking.

Yesterday it was so bad, we called NHS 111, and they were so worried, they sent out an ambulance.

He's been admitted to hospital with pneumonia caused by the damp and mould. He can't take his driving test (obviously) and we are most likely going to lose out on our holiday.

I'm self employed but been unable to work much due to illness, but I'm going to have to put that aside.

So, I'm begging you, please help out a struggling artist, mother to a disabled child, and wife to a terribly ill husband. If I can book in a few pet portraits, I'll be able to cover our mortgage this month, and hopefully recover some of our lost holiday money, as well as keep my car on the road.

Here are some examples of my work.

Mostly I work in coloured pencil on pastelmat, although occasionally I can also do drafting film (if the subject allows for it) Commissions are £140 for an A4 piece and that will include postage to anywhere in mainland UK - outside of the mainland, of course I'll have to charge extra for postage.

I appreciate these aren't cheap, but a lot of work goes into them. If you could please reblog to get this seen, I would appreciate it so so much.

I am in the process of setting up a website for these, but feel free to contact me here in the meantime.

Thank you so much for taking time to read, and reblogs to signal boost are hugely appreciated

[theasterous09]

its ninja-o-clock! A couple of asks/q for a bored bud if you want them ;D

Did you ever want an episode with specific scenario/trope in the show?

Did you have any ideas for another villain for Randy to battle?

If you have to choose: would you prefer Randy giving up his ninja mantle early in a self-sacrificing moment or him holding on until he is in a risk of being corrupted?

Any ideas about Randy's family?

First Ninja: blorbo or meh? if blorbo: any headcanons about him?

;D

THANK YOU ANON, I AM SO HAPPY WITH THESE QUESTIONS I CAN JUST KISS YOU

Did you ever want an episode with a specific scenario/trope in the show?

Yes! I have a lot of scenarios/tropes in my mind (and drafts) that I wish were in the show. Some of the scenarios and tropes were us finally seeing more First Ninja dad moments when Randy is feeling down or Randy and Howard going to the future and help the current ninja of that time (like the time travel episode, but the future-).

Did you have any ideas for another villain for Randy to battle?

Honestly? Yeah, I've always wanted to see Randy fight Howard as an actual monster (not like the soupsicles one, but like a stank'd one). We never got that, but that's fine! If we're talking about like an actual villain, like main antagonist kind of villain, then I've always wondered what if Randy gets sent into the future, only to find out that the current ninja of norrisville was THE villain. That would have been such a twist!

If you have to choose: would you prefer Randy giving up his ninja mantle early in a self-sacrificing moment or him holding on until he is in a risk of being corrupted?

This question made me remember an old fanfiction that had a chokehold on me. Anyone who knows "Randy Cunningham: Shadow of the Future" by not-a-cop on FF.net? Yeah, that's the one that reminded me of this question. To answer it, I would prefer if he gave up the mantle. Sure, it's a cliche choice and almost every hero chooses it, but this is Randy Cunningham we're talking about here. He is literally chosen as the ninja because his heart is pure, and it was stated multiple times (in and out of the show) that he is the best Ninja in the past 800 years (and he's just in his freshman year too)! I'm pretty sure he would choose to give up his title rather than let it corrupt and turn him into something that he's fighting against.

... Unless he becomes super evil then the Ninja of the future has to go back in time to stop Evil!Randy from turning his past-self into an evil version of himself too, which leads to a war between the two Randy's and becomes one of the greatest battles in Norrisville history—

Any ideas about Randy's family?

Yeah! I actually wrote a few headcanons about them and posted it, like, yesterday! But now I can talk about it more:

- Mrs. Cunningham is Althea Kaida Cunningham (Half-Japanese, half-Filipino (I made a mistake in my first hc post where I wrote that it was his dad that was the half-half)). Mr. Cunningham is Calin Cunningham (Pure American).

- They work at the same job (which takes up most of their time).

- They spend time with Randy once a day as a sort of family day and Randy relishes on that day a lot.

- Randy and Calin share the same love for music and video games, while Randy and Althea share the same love for meditating and volleyball (because I hc that Randy's fav sport is volleyball).

First Ninja: blorbo or meh? if blorbo: any headcanons about him?

ABSOLUTE BLORBO! And yes to headcanons!

- Outside of the Ninja suit, his name is Yuto Norisu. He was born in Norrisville with the rest of his brothers.

- When we first met him in the time travel episode, he was a 31-year-old ninja.

- He had a wife and a son, forever lost in time (no spoilers for this first, because I want to rant about it in a different post).

- He was a master of controlling his emotions. When the Sorcerer was still out and chaos can happen easily, he was taught by his older brothers how to control his emotions with ease so that he wouldn't be stank'd like the innocent people.

- When Randy goes inside the Nomicon, First Ninja would show himself to him on ocassion (rarer times Randy had seen him without the mask). During those times, he would help Randy in his ninja training and learning the new life lesson the Nomicon has for him.

- Randy sometimes calls him "Finja" despite the numerous times he told him not to.

- Finja sees Randy as a son (AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE).

- He hates the smell of smoke (from a trauma experience or he just really doesn't like the smell of it idk), which is why the smokebombs smell like farts rather than actual smoke.

THESE QUESTIONS WERE AWESOME!!! Thank you so much for them, Anon!!! If anyone has more, don't be shy to tell me about them! I would love to talk about this show more ahhhh

[veliseraptor]

Hualian for the meme

(finishing out the ones of these I had left in my drafts from...last week yikes)

yes!!! my favorite MXTX main ship by far. I love them so much they're so good

What made you ship it?

I feel like this was actually one that I just was...sold on pretty fast because I love the dynamic between the two of them so much. I mean, look. The vast majority of the time I am all about the super fucked up ships built on betrayal and suffering, and this is not to say this ship doesn't have its own fucked up stuff going on (hoo boy, Hua Cheng, you've got some issues that need unpacking), but what gets me about these two is how much they like each other, and how much fun they have in each others' company.

It was just clear pretty much right off the bat how much they just enjoy being around each other and it is so much fun to read that.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I touched on this up there but I think a big thing is how neat they both think the other person is, but particularly and specifically how cool Xie Lian thinks Hua Cheng is. Like, Hua Cheng has this whole long-game desperately trying to impress his #1 idol he's been pining for for 800 years thing going on (oh boy), but Xie Lian is just like "I met this fearsome ghost king two days ago, isn't he neat."

I just love that. Particularly how Xie Lian just kinda lets Hua Cheng have his San Lang disguise as long as he wants. He knows who he is but if Hua Cheng wants to pretend he's someone else that's fine! It's whatever.

Xie Lian's general acceptance and lack of concern about most things involving his own life is deeply concerning on many levels but I do enjoy it when it comes to him just, like. Letting people have their little deceptions if it seems important to them.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I honestly have no idea what's unpopular here and I'm probably happier that way, as is so often the case.

Other than maybe I guess I want to say that I'm not actually as interested in them having sex and more interested in them doing kink, if that makes sense. I just think Xie Lian should dom Hua Cheng. But I feel like that's so obvious it must not be unpopular; fandom has surprised me before, though.

[plantinghobbies]

Three: No Mirrors for Monsters

Guyyyyys, where has 7 months gone!?! Ok well I’m back at it and already writing chapter 5 and feel like I finally know where this little imagination thread is going with Matty and Tess. Thanks as always to @sycophanticsolipsism for being a champion through all of my 800 drafts of this thing and being the best beta, friend and muse. And to you for reading and letting me know what you think!

Growing Pains Masterlist

The walks had begun out of necessity, something to break up the monotonous hours between waking up and going to the bar most nights to help out. (It had actually been her therapist’s idea - “you time,” Janice had coined with a smirk, already familiar with the eye roll she’d be on the receiving end of. “Not everything has to have a purpose Tess, sometimes it’s good to just be.) B(e) - as in boredom. Which is exactly what she’d been drowning in since she moved a few months ago. Walking was boring but at least it had a - she hates how months working with Janice has made purpose feel like a four-letter word - point. 

She hadn’t felt this way in fifteen years, that itchy feeling like an electric current in her limbs, making it feel physically impossible to sit still (a doctor once told her that it was ADHD, that she could get tested, but Tess caught a big case and by the time she surfaced back in New York after the deal went through, the woman had moved her practice upstate). 

When Tess was twelve, she’d bribed Darby Scantlon’s idiot brother to let her ride along with him to UNC Asheville twice a week to sit in on his classes. It had taken months of saving up her babysitting money to cover the extortionist fee he “required” for gas (read: beer money) as well as the fake ID from the stoners he tipped her off to who hung out behind the local high school. But she was determined, bored out of her skull in her classroom and starry-eyed at the UNC pamphlet she’d picked up promising her challenging experiences with cutting-edge learning. She’d told her teachers she was missing class to go to therapy, told her mom she had joined an aeronautics club after school and told Darby she’d never speak to her again if she uttered a word. It took almost two months before she was found out, when her mother ran into Principal Stewart at the grocery store and remarked how much Tess was enjoying learning about space. All hell broke loose after that - nobody in the town soon forgot when her mother charged into the movie theater Mrs. Scantlon worked at hollering about her son kidnapping Tess. Darby didn’t talk to her for a month.

But it was worth it. Because when the professor of the class she’d been squatting in found out that his best student (based on grades, the professor had 212 students and had never actually met Tess) was actually a twelve year old, he’d called Tess’s parents and convinced them to let her stay in the class and take more (when he called the first time, it was 6:30 and her mother had scolded him for interrupting dinner and hung up. Thankfully, he waited an hour and called back). The turning point in her life and she couldn’t even remember the teacher’s name, her young mind discarding it long ago. 

What she could remember was everything else about that night, from the congealed Mac and cheese she was pushing around her plate and the humming melody of cicadas that drifted in with the breeze through the kitchen window. The shrill ring of the phone had surprised them all and her mother clutched her hand to her chest as she went to answer it (even years after the cordless phone became cheap and commonplace, her parents held on to the corded wall unit. So I can monitor your brothers, her mother had said). Her ears had perked up at the mention of her professor’s name, then her whole body had deflated at the quick trill of the phone as her mother dropped the receiver back down. When her dad had asked why the professor was bothering to call back (“I thought we were done with all that talk of extra schoolin?”), her mom had shrugged and slid the cloth napkin back into her lap with a breezy “Well, no harm in hearing what he has to say.” 

Fifteen years later, Tess wonders if that was actually true. 

“Sooo, do you live around here?” Oh shit, she’d forgotten about him. The guy from the lawn that she’d been playing some weird game of chicken with for the last several days. Tess feels awkward suddenly, like when you flirt with someone across a crowded bar, just some harmless fun while you wait for your drink, and then he makes a beeline right toward you. She enjoyed chasing after something but didn’t really know what to do when she caught it. 

“Uhm” The leash pinches her fingers as she hauls Dale back from lunging at a squirrel. She hisses, switching her grip and shaking them out under his watchful eye. “I’m staying a few blocks over.”

“Staying?” He’s cute, scrunching his nose up as if he literally smells something fishy. “Huh. I thought for sure you were a local. I thought you seemed a bit familiar at the bar.”

“Well, technically I am. I’m from about an hour from here.” They’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Dale’s nose pressed firmly to the backside of another dog, sniffing in greeting. For a moment, Tess is reminded of how often that nose is nuzzled against her own face, then thinks better of it. “But I’m in town for a little while.”

“Me too. Well, the here for a bit part of what you said at least.” They continue their walk, Tess charting a path from memory and this man seemingly content to follow alongside her. She can see his curious side-eye. He’s clearly a talker. “Umm, what brings you back?”

Tess doesn’t take her eyes off the pavement in front of her. She’s not sure what to say. (It’s nice meeting someone who doesn’t already know - seems like everyone else does.) How much time do you have random stranger?! Where would she even start? ‘Ok, so my Mom’ - Nope, not going there. ‘And my Dad’ - yea, way too soon. ‘Well, I’m 28 and I’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m doing’. Not something she’s going to divulge to a handsome stranger. She settles for something close to the truth. “Family stuff.”

That’s about all she wants to say on the topic so she changes it. “What about you? Your accent sort of gives away the not being from here so…”

“Me?” Tattoos peak out on both arms as he flexes around a subtle stretch. The devil’s brand, her grandmother used to call tats but Tess has always found them oddly enticing. That someone could feel so sure about something that they wanted it forever. Tess has never felt that way about anything. 

“Yea, what brings you to Asheville?” 

“Oh, um….work.” It’s a boring answer which probably means it’s a boring job. She doesn’t ask more, unable to feign interest in asinine topics before she’s had at least two cups of coffee. And even then she’d only ever made it about ten minutes (and that was to close a $3 billion client).

The rest of their walk is done in relative silence, a feeling which Tess doesn’t mind but her companion seems to be less familiar with. There seems to be a million things on the tip of his tongue, his mouth opening frequently before he shakes his head and closes it. It’s not often that Tess finds herself attracted to someone and she’d like a little more time to analyze it, understand why his perfect curls draw her in when others don’t, why her fingers itch to trace his tattoos. Just as she’s wondering if she can snap a picture without him knowing, they’ve reached her house. There’s a split second when she considers whether she should keep walking on so he doesn’t know her address (healthy paranoia in her mind, a product of too much Dateline if you ask the rest of her family) but there’s something about him that makes her feel comfortable, familiar. (That’s just how people described Ted Bundy, you fool! A small voice in her head shrieks). 

Dale stops, already knowing they’re home, and Tess thumbs toward her house, signaling the end of their walk. Before she can wave goodbye, he asks if he can join again tomorrow. She pauses midway through her gate, turning and looking back at him, and recognizes the pacing, the drumming of his hands along her fence, the flickering of his eyes. His body - like hers - seemingly unable to inhabit one space, shifting foot to foot. Taking pity on him, she agrees.

“I’m Matty by the way.” He extends his hand, a large callous running along the side of his index finger. She likes the way his accent clips the t’s in his name. 

She shields her eyes with her left hand as she meets his right. “Tess.”

______________________________________________________________

When Jack said he and Margaret were finally making the move out of New York for somewhere quieter, Matty had figured they were going to New Jersey. He’d had a hard time picturing the Southern town Jack described - “it’s small but not small small you know?” He hadn’t, but now he thinks he gets it. Big enough you don’t have to leave for essentials, small enough that eventually everyone knows you.

Which Matty finds out in a rather mortifying way. 

He’s not sure why he’s been avoiding telling Tess about his… job - life? - fame? (Ugh he hates the sound of that) - about him. It’s not like he’s on a predator registry or wanted for some heinous crime. Or that he has the kind of fame that will bring a disruption to their daily routine. (Media interest - social or otherwise - has significantly died down since the band went on break, fans turning their sites to other interests feeding them with newer content. Matty tries to ignore the fear that creeps in at that thought, that people are losing interest in the band, in him). But he’s enjoying the anonymity, the ability to interact with her without wondering what she’s read about him on the internet. It’s been a long time since he’s interacted with someone as just Matty, and never as 35-year-old version of himself trying to claw his way into adulthood. 

For all his ego, he’d like to get some credit for the fact that it never crossed his mind that she already knew. It finally comes up after the older lady who runs the local coffee shop they’ve been frequenting says ‘bye Matty’ despite them never meeting. He’s a little surprised that the first person to recognize him is not a coed from the local university but a retiree, he thought he knew his demographic a little better. 

“So, I guess that was weird” he holds the door for Tess and she walks ahead, unleashing Dale from the tree he’s been resting under. “Ehm, I should probably tell you - well, it” he clears his throat, unsure suddenly how to talk about this without sounding like a self-involved dickhead “it….may happen, - like I don’t think that much but just -“

“Huh?” She’s looking at him sideways and honestly, that’s a fair response, he’s not making much sense. 

When she finally catches on to what he’s trying to say, she barks out a laugh so loud it startles the dog, who crouches into a fighting position in response. After she collects herself (“Wait, oh my god, do you think -“ Mrs. Markovitch?! A diehard fan?! Oh god, I might pee my pants”), she tells him to get over himself. “Everyone knows everyone around here. These people only watch Jeopardy, the Macy’s Day Parade, and sports. You aren’t famous enough to have penetrated their radar.” Well, he’d felt like a twat and she hadn’t let him live it down, taking the piss out of him every time someone called him by name from then on (“Oh they probably read your latest spread in Pitchfork down at the senior center”). He’d been happy to learn that she knew and didn’t care (“You kind of stick out, honestly. It wasn’t that hard to find you.”), that this mountain that he had built up between them had turned out to be a molehill. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with someone who wasn’t at all tied to his work in some way.  Or who could be counted on to cut his ego off at the knees. Outside of Jack, he hadn’t felt that intimacy with anyone since tour ended. It further intoxicated him - he’d always been a sucker for a woman who could put him in his place. He wouldn’t delude himself that he was immune to her other charms either - her wit, her laughter, her fucking beauty - he was a man after all. He thinks he can sense the same in her, a love of this cat and mouse game between them. They’ve begun to flirt a little more flagrantly - there’d been a moment the other day with a shared fork at breakfast that made him feel like a teenager again - but nothing that couldn’t be explained away between friends. Matty craved more - more jokes and references and intimacy to collect just between them. More ties to her. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for retaliation material, spotting Tess later that week while passing a fitness studio on a smoke break from the studio. Although, she’s kind of hard to miss, dancing around and flailing her arms. He can’t hear the music but can tell instantly that she’s off beat, struggling to keep rhythm with the others. Twirling, squatting, tripping over her feet. She’s a mess - and he can’t look away. But instead of embarrassment at her clear lack of coordination, his mind is flooded with images of dancing with her, trying to teach her. Them dancing in her kitchen, him guiding her hips as they sway, her grinding those hips against him as he leans down to brush his lips against hers. 

A car horn snaps him out of his daydream. He’s aware of what he must look like, can see the headlines now – Hard-Up Healy Turned Peeping Tom. But Matty lingers just a little longer than is polite, eyes darting around hoping to catch hers. Just as he resigns himself to snapping a stealthy pic to take the piss out of her with later, she spots him. A cheshire cat grin breaks out on his face as a look of horror passes over hers. The accompanying thumbs up is unnecessary - but he’s a little shit, what can he say. Tess levels him with a death glare that would have been truly breathtaking if it hadn’t been interrupted by her abrupt collision with the woman next to her, the poor victim grasping Tess’s shoulders to try to help her get back on tempo. He caught the “fuck off” she mouthed at him before he turned and strode away, cackling loudly. 

______________________________________________________________

“Oh my God, that song was proper awful.”

“Fuck off, it’s incredible! I lost my virginity to that song…”

The words are thrown over her shoulder as they navigate her front steps, moving slowly under the weight of their haul from the farmer’s market. Matty almost misses a step at this reveal.

“Oooh sexy, give me the deets” A laugh bubbles up unbidden at the valley girl affect in his voice.

Dale almost tips her over as she roots around in her pocket for her keys. Once inside, she dumps the bags on the kitchen counter, unpacking a random assortment of veggies. 

“No way, I’m not trading sex stories with a rockstar.” Matty grabs plates for their breakfast sandwiches as she settles on the couch, thumbing through the local paper to the crossword puzzle, pulling it out and handing him the rest. Reading up on the local drama had become a guilty pleasure of his.

She knew he wouldn’t drop it, he was like a dog with a bone and no sense of boundaries - his drug addiction, his band, his family, and now his sex life all openly discussed. She had lifelong friends she knew less about than him. And listen, she wasn’t a prude, talking about sex didn’t bother her - except talking about her first time meant talking about school and that meant talking about -

“Claire Murphy when we were fourteen in her parents’ basement. Decidedly not-rockstar. Now spill.” 

She didn’t need to know who Matty was when she first met him to know he was “somebody”. He had an air about him, like he’d never met a room he wasn’t comfortable in. Tess knew the type - cocky, attention-seeking, monied. No thank you, she assumed. It’s why she’d bailed out at the bar, dodged him after. She had been glad to be wrong, glad to find out that while he was all the above, it was oddly endearing instead of asshole-ish. But comparison was a thief that visited her often. It was bad enough when she was comparing herself to her coworker’s dogwalker – it’s why she’d gotten off social media. But juxtaposing her life with a fucking rich rockstar?! She didn’t need that kind of ammo.

And yet, it seemed unavoidable right now. “OK, nevermind, I’ll just ask your brother at the bar tonight.” Fuck it, if he’s going to find out anyway, might as well be from her. Her friends don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for her to tell new people (“Tess, you’re a genius not an axe murderer”) but she prefers when people don’t know. Before the deluge of questions - ‘wait, what’s your IQ? Could you even live in the dorms at 15? Did you get fucking laid in law school being that young?’ That last one had only been asked once and Ben had almost ended up in the city jail for decking the guy. All these questions asked by people who were either surprised that she - Tess, really? - was that smart or were just interested in the salacious goings on of a 15-year-old on a college campus (gross). When that subsides, when she’s answered all the questions and reviewed the timeline of her life over and over, they still look at her different. New friends feel inferior, prospective boyfriends feel threatened. It’d been more of a problem in the isolation of New York, here she had her family and old friends and hadn’t bothered to try to make any new ones. 

Tess plays with the remains of her breakfast sandwich to distract from the uncertainty of how to spill her mess out in front of him. “Fourteen too, my high school’s football field, freshman year of college.” 

Cue the confused look, this scene playing out exactly the way that every other had - Tess playing herself, Matty now cast in the role of the potential love interest (she was far from immune from his charms). “Wait, I thought the American system was…”

Time for Tess’s monologue, the scary uncertain times of her life now scripted down to a tight thirty seconds - college classes at twelve led to an accelerated learning program (the first of it’s kind at her school), finished high school at fourteen, Harvard grad at seventeen (“Yes that Harvard, Matty, please just let me get this out”), law school til 21, firm job until left at 27, ending up right back where she started, helping her brother run his bar while she figures out what’s next. 

There were a few things she’d left out, she needed it to sound cleaner, more deliberate, than it actually was. To stick the landing when in reality it felt like she’d stumbled right off the mat. Because as much as she wished she was a woman who could own her mistakes in the face of someone she was interested in - ok, she fucking really likes him - she’s just not that enlightened yet. She’s still the chicken-shit scared girl who lost her virginity to the first boy who treated her even halfway normal on her first trip home from Boston for semester break. 

Matty’s eyes track her, Tess can feel the weight of them, but she can’t bring hers to meet his. It feels like what he says next could make or break her happiness right now, frail as it is. He’s a bright spot for her, whether she admits it or not. Pathetic. 

The smack of his hands on his knees startles her but it’s a familiar sound. She’s seen this film before - he’ll pat his knees and talk about how impressive she is, how lucky anyone would be to know her, but he just remembered he’s got somewhere to be and -  “Well, THAT explains a lot.” 

His exaggerated voice is entirely for her benefit, that much is obvious. What isn’t is where he’s going with this. “Huh?” For all her IQ, that’s the most she can muster.

“Why you make such a shit drink. I knew it was nepotism but I figured if you’d been a lifelong bartender you at least would have….”

“Oh shut the fuck up” she grabs a pillow and smashes it against his head, a little giddy with the way this was not going as she expected. 

He catches the pillow and pins it between them on the couch, along with her hands momentarily, and then his arms pulled back as if he’d been stung. She picks up her plate again to channel the energy that’s suddenly coursing through her. 

He’s eyeing the leftovers now as she pinches the bread crust between her fingers. She offers it for him to take, still can’t figure out what the fuck to say or where to go from here. He shovels it into his mouth, licking his fingers with a muffled thank you. A smear of aioli lines the corner of his lip, taunting her. Every salacious thought she’d had about him over the last few weeks dripped into her brain all at once. Which is the only explanation she has for what she does next. With a steadiness she certainly didn’t feel, she reaches up, dragging the pad of her finger across his Cupid’s bow before popping it in her own mouth, licking off the remnants of sauce. 

Matty’s sharp inhale brings her back to herself. Good going Tess. He’d stuck around through the weird college stories just for you to run him off by being a complete creep. But there’s no mistaking the look on his face. If he hightails it in the other direction now, she’ll at least be comforted that while he may think she is a total creep, she’s a total creep that he’s at least somewhat attracted to. Their gazes remain locked for what feels like forever - her trembling hand suspended in the air, his eyes flitting across her face as if he can’t pick one thing to focus on. Is it her imagination or is he leaning toward her? Oh god! 

Dale’s bark at a distant siren jolts her from her thoughts. They break eye contact, and she feels a pang of disappointment at the lost opportunity. So close. He clears his throat. “Well, in terms of interesting childhoods, I still think I have you beat.” She laughs harder than the joke warrants, grateful to him for steering them through the visceral tension in the room.” I’m serious! Let me show you!”

Her laugh rings off the kitchen walls as he reaches for his phone, already pulling up Google. 

______________________________________________________________

Matty has to fly to New York to meet with a session musician that Jack loves, their baby due any day and them unable to travel. The night he gets back, she texts him that she’s TBD for the morning walk. Apparently, Dale is vomiting all over the place and she can’t leave him. The disappointment is palpable, he’d been looking forward to seeing her more than he’d realized. Rumpled from jet lag and hours of flying, he crawls into bed and catches up on sleep and tv. 

When he doesn’t hear from her at sunrise, his curiosity is peaked. He’d probably call it borderline worried if that didn’t sound so loaded, serious. They’d texted a few times while he was gone, inane messages of adult life - she took in his mail, he had a package, she threatened to post the contents on Instagram if he didn’t bring her back Magnolia bread pudding. But they weren’t quite at call each other - hell, it seems these days (he knows how he sounds) that the bar for ringing someone was strictly reserved for emergencies and your mum. But worry overwhelms his awkwardness. The low din of background noise is his first clue that something isn’t right, that she’s not home. Her voice is frazzled as she tells him she and Dale are at the emergency vet. Apparently, Dale had gotten worse, he’d been having trouble staying upright.

“I panicked” she admits, though it sounds to him like it was the right call. 

She says she’s fine and that she’ll keep him posted. He spends about a half an hour putting about the house - debating if it would be weird to show up there. He thinks about Dale - such a sweet thing, so eager and trusting of everyone and everything he encountered. He thinks of her, how much he knows she loves that dog, how attached they are, how she seems unwilling to bother anyone in her life until she absolutely needs to. It’s that image, of her alone, that has him grabbing his keys. If he’s not going to be able to focus on anything else, might as well go where his mind is already, patience never his strong suit.

She seems unsure of what to do with him when he appears in the waiting room, and Matty wonders if he shouldn’t have come. When he’d walked through the door with coffee, he didn’t miss the way her eyebrows shot to her hairline. It had clearly caught her off guard. For a moment he has a horrifying thought - well, a series of them that all flow from a fear that he’s misread everything up to now, the flirting, the intimacy, the well everything. That she’s not  alone here as he assumed, that any second shes going to introduce him to her hot boyfriend, some doctor or contractor or someone equally capable, a quality that Matty is deeply aware he’s never been called a day in his life. And they are both going to stare at him, wondering what it is that he - scattered, untrained, ordinary Matty - thought he could do in this crisis situation. But  nobody appears and she gestures to the empty space next to her. 

Sliding a chair over to sit next to her, he finds himself at a loss for what to say. The muscles in her arms are tense as she grips the sides of the chair she’s sitting on, leg bouncing, eyes darting to the doors leading to the back area every time it opens. Anxiety is rolling off of her in waves so strong he swears he can feel them, he’s unsure how to be around her right now.  Is she someone who appreciates a laugh when she’s stressed? Would she snap at him if he said something trite.

In the end, its his curiosity that gets the best of him. “Do they know what’s wrong?”

“Umm” Her voice is hoarse with misuse and suppressed emotion when she goes to speak, clears her throat, and tries again. “They are pretty sure he ate something but they don’t know-.”

“Like what…” he begins but her sharp look cuts him off. 

“I don’t know what! Clearly if I did, we wouldn’t be in this situation, ok?” Even though he knows the rebuke is empty, driven by fear and misunderstanding, his hackles still go up at the sharpness in her tone. He was just asking. 

Silence stretches between them, punctuated by a sigh as she turns his way. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just exhausted. He and I were out yesterday at my Dad’s so maybe… but I don’t know - I’m so careful…” 

Her words trail off as she goes back to staring at the door, as if willing Dale to come through it. Matty can’t do anything for her and he doesn’t like feeling useless, unproductive. The urge to flee is strong, this was a mistake. He resolves to stay a few minutes longer, so that she doesn’t think that he’s leaving because she was short with him. 

Just as he’s about to get up and make his exit, with some lame excuse about studio time, a young woman in a white coat appears and calls Tess’s name. A soft, trembling hand - the first time he’s held it, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind for later - grasps his as the vet makes her way over. Finally, something to do, however small. 

The vet’s face doesn’t give anything away and in the short time before she gets to them, it dawns on Matty that the news may not be good. When he’d decided to come here, he was picturing her throwing herself at him out of relief and gratitude that he was there and with an update that Dale was already better. Selfish – the word ricochets across his mind. He hadn’t really stopped to ponder that it could be bad news. Or the worst. Should he really be the person there when she found out her dog died?! Did they have that kind of relationship? 

Before he can overthink it – well, overthink it any more than he already has – the vet is in front of them. “Here for Dale?” Dr. Sheldon, according to her badge, smiles and Tess’s grip relaxes just a little bit. So does his own. Surely, a smile is a good sign.

“Well, umm, he clearly ingested something but he’s stable” Matty squeezes Tess’s hand, cautiously optimistic. “He’s a fighter. And a real charmer, got the ladies eating right out of his paw.”

Matty has to physically hold back an eye roll. Is this really the time for jokes?

“We’re going to keep him overnight for observation but if things continue to improve, he should be able to go home tomorrow.” At those words, Tess sags against him in relief, as if the anxiety had been keeping her upright. Caught off guard, Matty’s fingers slip over her waste, pulling her to him to steady her. Smiling and accepting her impromptu hug of gratitude, the doctor mentions that someone will be out with some paperwork before turning to leave. 

Sagging back into their chairs, Matty notices a single tear rolling down her face. On instinct, he brings his hand up to her cheek, just barely grazing it as he catches the tear with his index finger and swipes it away. Their knees brush as she shifts in front of him and her gaze locks with his for a split second before she’s glancing away toward the front desk.

“Thanks for being here” she says finally, her green eyes - so unlike his own - glistening back at him. Not for the first time he’s struck by how beautiful she is - Jesus Healy not the time! And definitely not the place. While the couple of days in New York definitely clarified his interest in her - strong enough that he’d ignored a booty call from a regular hookup while there - but he still felt conflicted about fucking up his only friendship in town. (Don’t shit where you eat the sound engineer at the studio had said the other day and while a vile image, it was effective). The album had been moving at a weird place and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be here - could be weeks, could be months.

“Don’t mention it.” A sudden feeling of foolishness washes over him, embarrassment that he made such a big deal out of this by coming down here when Dale is going to be just fine. This feels like he’s put his heart on his sleeve in a way he didn’t intend to. Not even her friends came, and here he is rushing down to her like he’s got a claim to. 

But then he’s driving her home (“my hands are too shaky”) and heating up soup and sitting on the floor in front of the couch watching a movie because the house had seemed too quiet to her. 

And then just as she’s losing the battle with sleep, cocooned in Dale’s favorite blanket, she whispers “I’m glad you were there today…” 

It’s a sucker punch, all the air pushed from his chest and replaced with a flush of warmth that spreads to the tips of his fingers, his toes, into his goddamn hair follicles. Fuck. 

“Me too…” 

[hamsamwich23]

⚠️Tw: gr//ming and manipulation⚠️

The fact that Sonia claims that I was harassing her with my call-out post as well as the fact that she'll go and pretend I "turned against her" because I suddenly"hated her for no reason" is so fucking funny (more below)

When we were friends it wasn't like that at all, I never hated her until I realized what she did to me and many people around her. In fact I was in shock when I found out

before I knew about the fucked up shit she did, before I knew about the gross stuff she put in her aus and before I found out she's a fucking gr//mer, when she wasn't, y'know, manipulating me and making me isolate from people and when she wasn't guilt tripping me for stuff I couldn't even control...

She was my friend (or so I thought)

I loved talking to her and I loved hearing about her aus, almost every day we'd talk and I'd listen to her talk about her latest works and her artwork and her ideas

Because a lot of her au concepts were Interesting and fun to learn about, she seemed like a nice person for the most part....

Until I found out about some of them including nasty stuff as well as just, finding out she's a horrible person in general

I was emotionally (platonically) attached to her, which was part of why I was in denial about her grooming me.

I never hated her until now. I considered her one of my closest friends until I found out the truth. So no. This is not something I'm fucking doing out of "hate" or "spite"

I know you can see this Sonia. I know you're stalking my tumblr.

The only thing I really did was not finish something for her for a trade, but that was because she was shit talking me and I called her out on it, I deleted what she made me from my entire phone (I took screenshots of me deleting them). She went on a hiatus for months as well and I had no way to contact her for more information (starting in June) until after September of this year(I like having people active for me to talk to just in case I need answers for something), it was halfway done, over 800 words and I gave what I had to her before I blocked her. She complained that it took her ten minutes to do sketches, but at the same time she told me to take as much time as I needed, and I told her that if I was working too slow she could rush me if needed.

In fact, that was the only reason I didn't block her immediately. I was still working on the rough draft of it (it was a really long one shot, more of a short story), I wanted to keep my end of the deal before cutting her off (even though she literally fucking gr//med me) but I found it even harder to complete, working on it began to disgust me. I wrote over ten pages in the rough draft, I wanted to make it special, and then I find out she hurt me and so many others. If it weren't for my friend blocking her and Sonia running to me to complain about it and guilt trip me, I wouldn't have been able to block her yet. I still would have been stuck working on the stupid thing.

Sonia is just a disgusting person in general, she may be gone from tumblr but it doesn't mean anything. She needs to be held accountable for her actions. She still has a platform on instagram, a privated account, because she's aware that she's been caught.

And yet, this isn't even the most disgusting thing she's done. But I'm not going to get into that yet. Not here. I still don't feel safe knowing Sonia is stalking me still (come to my face instead of just watching me you fucking weirdo)

All I can say is block and report Sonia, avoid her at all costs. Do not harass her, and PLEASE Don't harass her partner. At all. Leave her partner alone

[ehlnofay]

How do you write so much? It’s really amazing and your writing is gorgeous. I usually like I’m dragging myself painfully slowly through the first draft phase, what do you do to keep yourself going when the writing gets tough? Also, your characters are all so compelling and I love the way you build out and explore the worldbuilding.

oh my gosh this is so nice... I don't think I'll have much advice, unfortunately (I've been writing since I was a young child so the process for me is pretty instinctive and based in years of habit) but I'm happy to share what I think works for me!

the most important thing for me, I think, is making a habit of it. I set myself a word goal and try to meet it every day. at the moment it's 1k (anything above 800 words is acceptable though) but for years before that it was 500, and when I was 11 I distinctly recall it was Approximately Two Word Document Pages since I hadn't figured out how to check the word count yet. I try not to push myself when I'm really really not feeling it or beat myself up when I'm not able to meet that goal (still working on that lol) but I do try to at least make an attempt, even on the days where I'd kind of rather not. a few terrible words is better than no words - it keeps me in the habit and gets something on the page which might give me ideas later even if I end up scrapping it. writing is like a muscle - it takes less mental energy the more you do it, and it always surprises me how quickly it adds up even if you're doing a small amount each sitting

as to feeling like it's slow going - I Get It. for the last couple years I've been almost only writing my collections of elder scrolls short pieces and it's honestly been great for me because if I get sick of writing a part of a story or even a character I can just switch. I hop between characters and story beats a ton and it helps things feel new and interesting while still slowly building out the same stories over time. an unfortunate side effect of doing so many short pieces is that my ability to do longer stuff that isn't a collection of scenes arranged is EXTREMELY atrophied (slowly planning some attempts at longer pieces to try to fix that a bit)

ooh also I Highly recommend planning out a scene before you write it. loosely in your head or scribbled out beforehand. I'm able to write so much more effectively when I know roughly where I'm going and how I'm getting there... I have a few outlines scribbled out in my sticky notes and they are completely incomprehensible but serve their purpose of sketching out the scene and reminding me of lines or images I wanted to include (e.g."just a ramble? is he safe? of course not. it's the first time lydia has spoken to a dragon.")

honestly as immediately unhelpful as it is, all I can really say is practice. play around with stuff so that you're having fun with it. figure out what you like and where your strengths lie and what you want to get better at. if you get sick of sticking to the same things all the time switch it up. if you want to try something new then do it. try not to get frustrated with your pace. a little bit is better than none the world is your oyster you have time I believe in you!!!!