#this is a draft and i feel like 3am is a good time to post

[crossbackpoke-check]

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[sixflame438]

Chasing Lightning

Synopsis - Your girlfriend’s in a mood and locks herself in your room causing you to sleep apart. It starts thunder storming in the middle of the night but Minjeong is scared of lightning

Pairing - Kim Minjeong X Reader

Tags - Fluff, light angst, mild astraphobia, established relationship, grammatical errors probably, another 3am post

A/N - A short fic i wrote in one go (yay me), will try to get the other drafts out of the basement after my last 2 exams :D

Wordcount - 1726

Minjeong was mad again and you dont have a clue why. All you did know was that you finished your dinner alone and that your apartment was lacking the usual lively energy of your girlfriend. It was like winter had frozen over with how silent and chilling being in the apartment felt, not even the sounds of a drama playing quietly in the background.

You missed your girlfriend despite her simply being a door apart. And of course you tried multiple times to get her out, whether that was sincerely asking her to or attempting to lure her out with snacks they were all to no avail. She just wouldn’t budge.

If it weren’t for the muffled noises coming from behind the door you probably wouldve assumed you were home alone but they were very real and they definitely came from your girlfriend. You deduced the sounds to be crying and sniffling and it hurt you to hear them, even more knowing you had no way to stop them.

You couldnt even begin to figure out why she was in such a mood. It was like this when you came back from work.

No hugs

No kisses

No Minjeong

No nothing

You couldve easily spent the entire night trying to coax her out but you were tired and sweaty from work and all you wanted to do was crash out while snuggling with your favorite person.

If Minjeong wasnt going to let you in, youd just have to give her some time and space. You had no choice anyway.

She had locked you out of your own bedroom and left you to fend for yourself alone. (it was practically both of yours with how often she was in there with you but the audacity of this girl)

And since most of your stuff was in there you had to make do with what was left scattered around the house. It really wasnt that hard though since you were quite the clumsy mess, always forgetting and leaving things in places they shouldnt be.

In your scavenger hunt you had found a spare set of clothes to change into, some makeup wipes to clean your face with and half of the products required in your night routine.

You took a quick shower to freshen up and rearranged the couch so that you would have an easier time trying to sleep. There was a spare blanket bundled in the corner from your movie night 2 days ago which you could use and some cushions and pillows you could stack to provide another layer of comfort.

Laying onto your makeshift bed, you struggled with finding a good position to sleep in. The couch wasnt ideal to sleep on and the cushions kept moving out of place everytime you turned. It wasnt much but it would have to do, youd just have to hope it was enough.

————————————

It wasnt enough. You were certain just lying on that made you feel worse than you did before. The uneven feeling of the cushions didnt help either as different parts of your body were elevated while others were feeling the hard surface of the couch.

The weather didnt help much as a thunderstorm started as soon as you tried sleeping and no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn’t will yourself into slumber either. The raging downpour of rain mixed with the thunderclaps created a painful symphony of pattering noises, uneven and aching to the ear, perfect to distract someone from falling asleep.

Lightning had also started coloring the dark skies with its striking flashes, loud and unpredictable. Since you couldn’t sleep you decided it would be fine to indulge in the lightning instead, pulling over a chair and opening the blinds so you could see the skies better.

The low dim light glowing from the moon and the dark midnight sky helped illuminate the lightning strikes and bright stars. If you were a photographer you wouldve definitely tried capturing the moment in physical form but keeping the scene in your head was alright too.

Other than the scene being quite stunningly beautiful (like your girlfriend) you found it quite funny as it kind of looked like the sky was trying (and failing) to play connect the dots with the stars. You dont know why but you were just so entertained by the sight.

It was rare but you had always enjoyed seeing the natural phenomenon nonetheless, finding it quite fascinating and inspiring.

Your girlfriend on the other hand?

Strong stoic Minjeong was never a fan of lightning, it was quite an experience the first time you both saw the flashing lights together. The high pitched squeals and screams could never leave your head and you didnt want them to. It was fun seeing that side of her and even more fun teasing her about it.

You remember bringing her close and spending the night in each others embrace, forgetting the world as it faded away. This time though you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t even if you wanted to all because of a stupid locked door.

You were really hoping Minjeong had already fallen into a peaceful slumber and hadnt heard the harsh sounds of the lightning. Considering you hadnt heard any noises from your girlfriend yet you took it as a good sign but the worrying feeling wouldnt leave so you remained unsettled.

That feeling was quickly sidelined though as another bolt of lightning hit. This one had a tint of red to it which you found absolutely amazing. You had learnt in a previous deep dive that lightning strikes could reflect any colour in the spectrum so seeing it in person was mind blowing.

You were so mesmerized by the colours and sounds of the lightning that you didnt hear the slight click of the bedroom lock or the soft padding of feet in your direction. It wasnt until you felt 2 tiny arms around your waist that you snapped out of your haze.

Part of you was still resentful of how quickly Minjeong shut you out (physically and mentally) but as soon as you registered the tears coming from your beloved you crumbled.

Even though Minjeong was stubborn and acting up all you wanted to do was wrap her up and cradle her in your arms. She was always there for you so the least you could do was be there for her as well.

As you turn around to properly to face your girlfriend a perfectly timed lightning strike allowed you to see her entire face in all of its glory. Minjeong mustve been crying for a while by the red eyes and flushed cheeks.

You physically soften at the sight, heart filling with sympathy and concern as you observe your girlfriend for any other signs.

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull her into your arms and spend the rest of the night comforting her. Even your ego tried to resist but you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and doing just that.

You pull her onto your lap and with one arm rubbing her back in circles and the other running down her hair in a soft delicate motion you coax Minjeong into finally letting out the remaining tears. The weight of your comfort too heavy to bear.

A croaky im sorry is all you hear as your girlfriend starts sobbing into your shoulder. You’re not sure what shes apologizing for. Maybe for crying? For being vulnerable? For locking you out of your room? Her fear of lightning? Probably all of the above.

Humming in acknowledgment you continue to console Minjeong, whispering soft reassurances in between sobs. As the storm eventually faded out, Minjeongs crying evened out too. Soft whimpers and hiccups could be heard amongst the sprinkling of rain.

You have a feeling that Minjeong would’ve succeeded in staying the entire night alone in your room if it weren’t for the lightning scaring her out.

“Hey lets get some rest now that the rains subsided. Im gonna take you back into the room okay?” You dont wait for a reply as you gently lifted Minjeong off your lap and guided her to stand and lean onto you.

Slowly and steadily you lead her back into the bedroom and notice the soaked pillow doused in her tears. Hell no were you going to let her sleep on that. Luckily you were a person who loved sleeping with multiple pillows so you had some spare hidden away.

(Minjeong found it impractical having pillows to hug when you could just cuddle with her instead and your bed was only so big so you moved them to make room)

You pull out the unused pillows from your storage closet and tuck Minjeong back into bed with little resistance, her already tired state fueled by the lack of energy from all the crying.

Ensuring she was comfortable and safe you place an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

You were hesitant on whether you were allowed to join her or not, as you still didnt know why she was upset and if you had played a part in her suffering. But your questions get answered with a simple

“Stay”

Quiet and low but you heard it. Not allowing yourself to linger any longer, you climb into bed and tuck yourself in too. Gently wrapping your arms around Minjeong as you did before, careful not to set her off again.

It takes a while for Minjeong to calm down fully but with your soothing touches she eventually drifts off. As soon as you registered her breathing falling into a stable state, you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that night. Basking in the closeness of her company, you lay another tender kiss on her forehead and temple.

It didnt matter what had happened, as long as you were still able to kiss her goodnight that’s all that mattered. Youre still skeptical about Minjeongs behavior, being kept in the dark about something as important as this was not something you enjoyed but you had a feeling that it would work out. Tomorrow was new day and you had plenty of time to decode her then.

Now that Minjeong was back in your arms you were never letting her go (unless she tried to lock herself in again that is)

[sabrecrane]

Battling Writer's Block

Believe it or not there are people out there who believe that writer's block isn't a thing. Nope, I'm not kidding, that is what my lecturer said last year and I just want to assure anyone that may believe it doesn't exist/ or are thinking of giving up on their work, don't. It is a very real thing and is very common to experience especially if you've written so much that you've managed to burn yourself out. Also, nobody in my class liked that lecturer for the rest of the year after making that comment so if you don't believe it's real...I wish you luck is all I'm gonna say lol.

So how do you prevent this?

Well first of all, you can't, but you can decrease how likely it is to happen.

Organisation

First thing is first, get your notes and your characters down somewhere you can look at them. Organisation will help a ton. Personally I have notes scattered all over the place both physical and on a folder on my laptop. Ideas come at random so I jot them down and then always forgot to put the physical notes somewhere. This meant I got stressed because I knew I had a good idea but couldn't remember exactly what it was. I did end up finding the notes and have now bought a folder to store my papers in. But this disorganisation meant I spent a lot of time overthinking my skills as a writer which then affected my confidence and ultimately resulted in writer's block.

Create

The next thing you can do is relax and create. Plots will come in time, focus on creating -- that's the fun bit especially if you're working in the fantasy or sci-fi genre! Don't create your plots first because as soon as you create your characters you might realise those plots won't work with those characters anymore. While this may not directly contribute to writer's block it definitely could affect your confidence so if you already have a good plot idea but find your characters don't fit then store away the idea for later to use with characters that will work for it.

Also I know I only focused on the writing aspect of creation but if you want to create other things then do that, too! Draw, make models, maybe a small mistake you make might give you inspiration!

Take a walk

This is common advice I see and that is taking a walk. If you can't find the inspiration to work on your current project but want to write something, grab your laptop or notebook and just wander around in a park and focus on your senses. What can you hear? What are the conversations people are having? What can you see? Try and show it instead of telling. Is there wind, can you feel it?

Create Your Own Definition For Your Favourite Words

If you don't want to write something too complicated and can feel your motivation disappearing but want to try and regain it, search for words and show your meanings for it instead of what the official definition is. For example the word 'love', the official definition is generalised and always straight to the point but the word means different things for different people. So what is love to you?

Poetry

Adding onto the previous paragraph, maybe try poetry! Last year I was dreading my poetry module but I have actually enjoyed it so far. I never thought I would but at 3am I find myself drafting up a poem to work on the next day. I do have old notes somewhere so when I find them I'll post them here so you have a sort of visual for how some poetry forms work. My favourite type of poetry is freeverse so if you're wanting to create a story without necessarily rhyming but keeping within the poetry theme, that would be a great way to start!

Relax

Finally, read. Sit down somewhere with a cup of hot chocolate or your favourite drink and read. Take some time for yourself, your writing isn't going anywhere and either way it takes time. Writing is a skill to develop not something to rush. Rushing will result in confusion and you may miss out some minor plot points you wanted to add. Reading helps you learn so pick out pieces that you enjoy from the book and see if you can incorporate it into your own work somehow.

To all my fellow writers out there, take a breath. Everything will come to you in time.

[oneheda]

MET THE BULLET. | 𖥂 lo’ak sully

── .✦ part 2 of: PREMONITIONS

w.c: 6.8k

pairing: lo’ak x fem!na’vi reader (aged up characters for plot purposes!)

story description (read pt. 1 before this first!): but then, the ambush happened. and when lo’ak had nearly lost you, with past wounds colliding, you both had to face confrontation of the raw and painful truth of your guys’ estrangement.

contains: angst, slowburn, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, fluff (for real this time! <3)

warning: swearing, near-death experience, descriptions of war. please do not read if you find these triggering!

➙ PART 1:

a/n: hi guys! i’ve officially finished writing this at 3am. hope it’s not too bad even if i wrote it with my screen LOWKEY warping at times LMFKDNJSNAO. it got to a point where i was proof-reading and deleted whole written scenes, made several drafts, then lost track of where the story was going. so, i decided to end up sticking to the first final version i wrote and prepared in tumblr @ 3am. i’m sorry if there’s any inconsistencies (i don’t think there should be, not on this tumblr post). i hope y’all’s enjoy and stay tuned for more avatar fics! <33

You never thought you’d be here, rising before the first light of dawn with a bow clenched tightly in your hand, trying desperately to find a stillness that refused to come. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of damp earth and lingering ash, and your grip tightened against the wood as if the bow itself could anchor you.

Each morning, you repeated the same ritual: stalking the wilds, ears tuned to the sharp, satisfying sound of stone slicing through flesh. It was routine now, the kind of focused repetition that drowned out the noise in your mind, the questions you refused to let yourself answer.

You never thought you’d become this person—someone who sought refuge not in peace but in the violent act of hunting, in the rhythmic pull of a string and the release of an arrow. You never thought you’d run, not from a battle, but from silence itself. And yet here you were, moving through the brush, your steps faltering as you lost the rhythm that once came so easily.

You hated feeling so futile, useless to questions you knew you didn’t have any of the answers to. It was dumb to you, to still think any of this mattered after all these eclipses, that he mattered. He shouldn’t be. I mean, genuinely, was he even worth a thought anymore?

It used to feel a little good to hope for more despite the tragedy of your friendship, or lack thereof. That hope, fragile as it was, had carried you through the cracks of loss and resentment. But now, that hope felt like a liability, a dangerous thread pulling you toward something you had no business holding onto. Hope felt dangerous. He felt dangerous.

So now, you did everything you could to rid him of your line of sight, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to the edges of your mind like shadows. Nowadays, around the campfire, laughter echoed, and new friendships began to take root—bonds forged in the shared heat of training and the quiet moments of reprieve. But never with him. You avoided his gaze, even more, his voice, his presence. You couldn’t even bury the ache beneath layers of forced smiles and polite conversation anymore, you had to push him out of your life completely.

Like he never existed.

Still, despite your best efforts to focus on the good in front of you, a quiet, stubborn thought gnawed at the back of your mind. It whispered that no matter how many stories you shared with these new faces, none of them truly knew you as Lo’ak did. He had seen parts of you that even you struggled to face, understood pieces of your soul you hadn’t yet put into words.

And it sucked. It sucked to feel like you were missing something, even as you sat surrounded by laughter and warmth. It wasn’t fair to the people who had shown you kindness, to the bonds you were trying so hard to nurture, who would never leave you in the dark as he did, but the feeling persisted—a dull ache that reminded you of everything you were trying to leave behind and everything you were still losing in the process.

Stop thinking so much, you reminded yourself, taking in a deep breath. I’m okay, you steadied, regaining a balance that never felt the same as it used to. Refocusing sharply on your target, you didn’t hesitate. The string of your bow snapped, releasing the arrow with precision and purpose. Its flight was swift, and with a clean, sharp strike, it met its mark. The sturmbeast staggered, its powerful frame trembling as it succumbed.

You moved without pause, leaping gracefully toward the fallen creature. Kneeling by its side, you placed a steady hand on its heaving form, murmuring a quiet prayer of gratitude to Eywa for the life it had given, the warmth of its life still lingering beneath your touch. Then, bowing your head, with a swift, deliberate motion, you ended its suffering, granting it a merciful release and ensuring its spirit returned to the Great Mother in peace. Its body soon turned colder than your hand.

“What are you doing here?”

You masked your surprise when the familiar voice reached your flickered ears—it was Neteyam. Of course, he’d found you here. He’d been assigned to spot near-by human ambush regions, a task that had him covering far more forest ground than his brother. His patrol extended beyond just the Hallelujah Mountains because the Sky People had returned 2 weeks ago.

Or so you heard.

“Just hunting,” you started, but as you turned around, your words faltered. “Lo’ak?”

Your eyes locked on the figure standing before you, and for a moment, everything inside you froze. A whirlwind of emotions rushed through you as you struggled to process the sight before you.

“Not the brother you were expecting?” The boy’s voice was light, and playful, as a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. His hands rested confidently on his hips as he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, yeah, didn’t expect it either. You don’t have to act all shocked, y’know. I know how laid-back you are, [Y/n].”

Hearing your name slip from his lips sent a jolt through you, like an electric shock that you weren’t prepared for. It had been so long since you’d heard him say it like that, in his voice, the way it felt almost familiar—yet, unsettling.

But, the memories, the betrayal, the hurt, the lies—every single ounce of it flood back all at once. A sharp wave of anger surged through you as you stood up quickly, grabbing your bow with a little more force than necessary, the edges of your vision burning with the heat of your frustration. “What are you doing here?” you questioned, voice tight, a controlled fury simmering just beneath the surface.

“I asked you that question first.”Lo’ak took a step closer, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to figure you out—like he always did. His gaze flicked to the sturmbeast at your feet, and he let out a low whistle. “One arrow? That’s pretty impressive...,” he said, his voice low, almost with admiration. “No one but you at our age could do that, not yet.”

“I don’t need your validation,” you muttered, crouching down to start collecting your meal, ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach.

“Never said you did.” He shrugged, but there was a lilt in his voice. “[Y/n]. So, so independent. Even with, you know—” his eyes flicked pointedly to your thigh, where the faint scar of an old bullet wound lingered. “—that.”

“What do you want?” you asked, voice clipped as you turned back to him, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted in all sorts of directions. “If you’re here to piss me off, after everything, just leave.”

Lo’ak’s expression hardened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. But then he sighed, running a hand through his braids.

You asked, baffled that he didn’t move even a single inch, “What are you even doing here? Isn’t Neteyam supposed to be covering this area?”

“He was. I switched with him. Figured I’d take the scenic route today. Lucky me, huh?” Though, Lo’ak had not even a modicum of amusement in his voice.

Keeping your gaze fixed on the carcass of the sturmbeast, you refused to look at him any longer. “I’ll manage,” you muttered, bending down to retrieve your bow, to which Lo’ak stopped you.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, drawing the word out like he didn’t believe you, his gaze falling to your leg. “Over rough terrain? With that leg?”

Your jaw tightened, the irritation crawling up your spine, making your tail flick erratically behind you. “I don’t need your help, Lo’ak.”

It would’ve been so easy to let it end there, to close off that door and turn away from him once again. To let him leave, just like before. But, of course, you didn’t. You had to say one more thing, almost as if this time you could willfully cause him to disappear. “Go back to pretending like I don’t exist. We were doing really well, ever since, weren’t we?”

Lo’ak’s ears twitched, he didn’t miss the way venom laced every syllable you spoke, mixed with the sharpness in your tone. “Right,” he said, his voice flat but edged with something darker. “Pretending you don’t exist, huh?”

You felt your pulse quicken, a tremor of anger running through you, your fingers tightened instinctively around the grip of your bow. You met his eyes with a seething intensity.

“Yeah, no. That was all you,” he shot back.

You wanted so bad to argue, to fight back at the audacity, but before you could protest, Lo’ak crouched down, tying the sturmbeest’s legs with practised ease. “Look, we can keep being pissed off all you want, but ever since I noticed your leg, you’re not carrying this thing back alone. I won’t let you.”

You picked up the weight of the sturmbeast as if to prove his point, your muscles tensing with the effort. “Fine, but this will be the last time we speak to each other, got it?”

A few days ago…

Lo’ak woke up to the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing beside him, the warmth of another body pressed lightly against his side. He blinked up at the thatched ceiling of the hut, his heart already sinking before his mind fully caught up. Turning his head ever so slightly, he found Sänika lying next to him, her arm draped lazily over his chest. Her face was peaceful, almost angelic, in the pale morning light streaming through the entrance. Her braids spilt across the woven mat like rivers of shadow, her lips parted in quiet sleep.

He stared at her for a moment, guilt already coiling in his stomach like a trapped serpent.

Oh, god. This was so sick.

His throat tightened as he looked away, his eyes darting back to the ceiling as though salvation could be found in the straw-and-wood lattice. Sänika was kind—too kind. She wasn’t the same as she used to be. She’s funny, easygoing, the sort of person who made everyone feel seen. Beautiful in a way that didn’t need effort. She deserved someone who looked at her and saw her.

But all Lo’ak could think about when he looked at her was you. And that? That felt so deeply, disgustingly wrong he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

Fuck. Fuck. What was he doing?

He carefully, painstakingly slid out from under her arm, wincing when the motion caused her to stir. She sighed in her sleep, curling into the warm spot he left behind, and his chest squeezed painfully. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head as if it would physically dislodge the tangled mess in his mind. Every nerve screamed at him to leave the hut before she woke up.

“Neteyam, I’ve fucked up.”

The soft hum of the morning light filtered through the fabric of the tent, casting a pale glow over the space. Neteyam reclined against his hammock, one leg hanging lazily over the edge, while his fingers absently scratched at his jaw, lost in thought. He looked at Lo’ak, whose posture was hunched and tense, the weight of something heavy on his chest.

“When do you not, baby brother? You want the truth?” Neteyam’s voice was casual, though his eyes had an unmistakable sharpness. His gaze softened just slightly as if he were reading his younger brother’s uncertainty like an open book.

Lo’ak’s eyes darted around the tent, avoiding his brother’s steady gaze, but there was no escaping the fact that Neteyam knew. He always knew.

“You’ve hurt a lot of girls’ feelings before, Lo’ak,”

Lo’ak sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the sting of those words like a reminder of every mistake he’d ever made. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

“And one of the most being…” Neteyam raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing at Lo’ak with an unspoken understanding. “You know who I’m talking about, right?” he said, leaning forward slightly, his voice lower now. “[Y/n], is she the one who’s got you all worked up? I saw you two talking for the first time in years yesterday!”

Lo’ak’s stomach tightened at the mention of you. The one he’d avoided, the one he’d left behind, the one who had no reason to even speak to him anymore. “You know, she still hates me, Neteyam.”

“Of course she does, you’re a skawxng!” The older brother studied his younger brother, watching the way his shoulders slumped with uncertainty. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Lo’ak said, the words thick with the frustration and helplessness he couldn’t seem to shake off. “I don’t know…”

For a moment, there was silence. The only sound was the soft rustling of the leaves outside the tent, the morning wind carrying the faintest sounds of the jungle waking up. Neteyam’a eyes bore into Lo’ak’s unsure figure, searching for the answer that Lo’ak himself didn’t seem to have.

The boy looked down, his mind racing as he wrestled with the flood of emotions crashing over him. He hadn’t expected this conversation to stir up so much—so many regrets, so much doubt, so much want for something that felt so far out of reach. “When Sänika and I kissed… it was out of a desperation. But, not as thought it was for her. It more or so felt like… I was running from something—someone. Myself.”

The older brother sighed, as if weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, his tone even but pointed.

“Then, maybe, you should break up with her.”

The jungle below roared with chaos, the unmistakable sound of a human ambush erupting like a storm. Screams of warriors, the clash of weapons, and the metallic screeches of enemy machines tore through the dense air. Jake Sully, the Olo’eyktan, led the charge on his Ikran, barking commands to the warriors below, his voice a rallying cry against the invaders.

The younger soldiers, yourself included, circled high above the battlefield as spotters. From this vantage point, you tracked the enemy’s calculated movements—humans and their monstrous machines—relaying crucial information to the warriors on the ground.

Your Ikran dipped and soared, keeping pace with the others in your squad. Even amid the panic, you felt the steady rhythm of your companion’s wings and the reassuring presence of your squadmates nearby. It was your duty—your role—and you embraced it. But the battlefield was unpredictable, and even the best preparation couldn’t account for everything.

One moment, edge of the sky you moniter seemed clear, but then the next, enemy fire zipped through the air, cutting dangerously close to your group. You veered sharply, your body instinctively leaning with your Ikran as you narrowly avoided a direct hit.

A scream erupted behind you—sharp and guttural, slicing through the chaos like a knife. Your chest tightened, panic surging through your veins.

And then it happened.

A sharp pain bloomed in your side, fiery and immediate. Your breath caught as your vision blurred, and the world tilted violently. The cries of your squadmates faded into the background as you felt yourself falling.

Through the haze, you heard a voice—a panicked, desperate voice you hadn’t expected to hear, calling out for you.

Lo’ak.

He saw you plummeting through the sky, your body limp and unresponsive, like a broken leaf torn from the branches. His chest seized and a breath punched out of him in a wave so fierce it blurred everything else.

The battle still raged, but Lo’ak’s only focus was you.

“Neteyam!” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “It’s [Y/n]! She’s hit!”

Neteyam’s voice cut through the commlink, steady and commanding despite the chaos. “Bro! Stay on her! I’ll cover!”

But Lo’ak barely registered the words. His vision tunnelled, narrowing to the single, horrifying image of you falling toward the dense jungle canopy below. Everything else faded—the shouts of his squadmates, the hum of enemy gunfire, even the burning in his muscles as he gripped the reins of his Ikran tighter.

Not now. Not you. Not like this.

Lo’ak’s heart thundered in his chest, each beat crashing like war drums against his ribs, ticking seconds reminding him of how much little time he had. He tightened his grip on his Ikran as he forced it into a reckless dive, the creature’s screech of protest swallowed by the roar of the wind. The air stung his face, ripping tears from his eyes as he plunged after you.

The ground loomed closer with every breathless second. Through the tangled chaos of branches and leaves, he caught glimpses of your body, limp and free-falling—a sight that set his every being ablaze with panic.

Guilt struck him like a blade, sharp and merciless. Was the last time the last time?

This can’t be it. It can’t end like this. She doesn’t even know…

But deeper, a cruel voice whispered from the shadows of his mind: You don’t deserve to save her. Not after what you did. Not after you pushed her away.

He shoved the thought down, locking it away where it couldn’t slow him. There wasn’t time for regret or self-loathing. Not with you hurtling toward the ground. Not with the seconds slipping through his grasp, threatening to take you with them.

“You’re not dying today,” Tears blurred his vision as he urged his Ikran faster, pushing it past its limits. “Not on my watch.”

And then he reached you.

With a final, desperate swoop, his arms locked around your body in a frantic grasp. The collision was rough, the force of it jolting through him as his Ikran shrieked and struggled to steady its frantic, beating wings.

The warmth of your body against his sent a shiver down his spine—a reminder that you were still alive, still here, even if just barely. “I’ve got you.”

You stirred faintly, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. Even in your blurred, half-conscious state, your gaze met his. What he saw in your eyes—confusion, pain, something else he couldn’t quite place—shattered what little composure he had left.

Tears streaked his face as he tightened his grip on you, his heart aching with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years. He looked to the horizon, where Neteyam’s figure flew above. He nodded once, a silent agreement passing before Lo’ak headed his Ikran toward the healing tents.

As you faded in and out of consciousness, you felt the heat of his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his tears hot against your skin. “You don’t get to do this. Not to me. Not after all this time.” His voice dropped, a whisper now, raw and trembling. “I can’t lose you to them—when I’m right here.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your pale face for any further sign of life. “Stay with me, okay? Just… stay.” His words were a command and a prayer, his voice breaking with the weight of both.

His Ikran dove toward the healing tents, the wind whipping past them, “Come on,” he pleaded, his voice low and strained, breaking with every word. “Please, please… don’t leave me. Don’t let me be too late.”

The healing tent was dim, the air thick with the familiar scent of herbs and the soft murmur of the forest outside. Mo’at was calm, an aura of certainty surrounding her as she worked. She didn’t rush, didn’t panic. But Lo’ak, his heart pounding in his chest, hovered at the edge of the mat where you lay, unmoving. His breathing was hitched and he couldn’t think clearly. The only thing he could focus on was the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

“Mo’at—Tsahik,” he rasped, his voice strained with desperation. “Please, you have to help her. It’s [Y/n]. She’s—she’s been hurt so bad. Please.”

Mo’at turned sharply at the sound of his voice, her eyes narrowing as they fell on you. Without hesitation, she gestured for her assistants to bring a mat, her commands rapid and clipped, carrying the authority of generations.

“Lay her down here. Quickly!” she ordered, her voice firm and unwavering. She knelt beside you, her hands already moving with precision, gathering herbs and ointments from nearby bowls. Her deft fingers crushed bright green leaves into a paste, mixing it with an oil that filled the air with a sharp, earthy aroma.

“Keep her steady,” she said to Lo’ak, barely sparing him a glance. She smeared the paste across the wound, the mixture sinking into your skin like it had a life of its own. Her chants began, low and rhythmic, as she pressed her hands over the injury, her fingers glowing faintly with the energy of Eywa. The air seemed to hum, charged with a warmth that pulsed in time with her words.

Lo’ak knelt beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your arm but not daring to interfere. His eyes darted between your pale face and Mo’at’s focused expression, hope and terror warring within him. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Mo’at didn’t answer at first, her concentration razor-sharp as she worked. She murmured another chant under her breath, her fingers moving with practiced precision to apply more of the healing paste to your wounds. One of her assistants handed her a roll of soft, woven bandages, which she began wrapping around your torso, her movements deliberate and sure.

“She is strong,” Mo’at said finally, her tone calm yet firm. “But her spirit walks a fine line. The healing will hold if she finds the will to stay.”

A few hours later…

Mo’at’s steady gaze met his, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. She simply assessed him, reading the raw panic in his eyes, the way his hands trembled as he reached out but then pulled back, as though he couldn’t bring himself to touch you just yet.

Mo’at’s lips parted, the wisdom in her eyes knowing far more than Lo’ak would ever let her see. She shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Boy,” she murmured, her voice a mixture of reprimand and understanding, “despite saving her, you have been foolish.”

Lo’ak’s expression remained dull, but she continued, pressing the pressure points along your injured body with expert care. Her hands were steady, almost sacred as they moved, and she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

“You think I don’t see it?” she asked, her voice still low, but sharp with the truth. “You think I don’t know what this is?” Her eyes flicked briefly to you, then back to Lo’ak. “She was your friend once, your companion. But, you were afraid. “You care for her, Lo’ak. I see it in the way you cannot leave her side. I see it the way your hands shake every time you think she might not breathe again. I see it in you.

She paused, eyes lingering slightly as if searching his soul. “I know what you’re thinking. All is not lost.”

His fingers gently traced over the soft skin of your hand, too afraid to squeeze, too afraid to do anything that might hurt you further. His hands found their way back to your wrist, as though touching you, even this way, could make a difference.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lo’ak said hoarsely.

“You do not need to fix what is already broken, child,” Mo’at said softly, her voice carrying the weight of years spent in the presence of Eywa. “What is torn can be mended, but only if you let go of your pride, your fear. If you will not hold her back, if you will not push her away again.”

She didn’t need to say more. The silence in the tent was louder than any words.

“She will live,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper, yet it held the weight of confirmation. “But only if you let her breathe when she wakes. If you do not smother her with the weight of your guilt.”

The world around you was hazy, your vision a blur of shifting colours and dim shadows. The air felt heavy, thick with the overwhelming scent of healing herbs that clung to your skin, mixing with the familiar, earthy aroma of the jungle—a smell that, despite the circumstances, brought a sense of grounding. Every breath you took seemed to rattle your ribs, a sharp ache spreading through your body, but it was the pain in your side that was most consuming. The bandages felt tight, wrapped around your torso in an unrelenting embrace that pressed down on every wound, reminding you of how broken you felt.

For a moment, you wondered if this was real—if you were still stuck somewhere between the worlds of consciousness and unconsciousness. Your head spun with fragments of fading memories—flashes of chaos, of battle, of a cry in the distance—and then,

You froze.

You felt something else. Warmth. A presence beside you.

Lo’ak’s arm was draped across your waist, his fingers resting gently on your hip, a weight that both comforted and startled you. His proximity was overwhelming, too close, too intimate. It left you breathless, a sharp realization running through you—this was wrong. You shouldn’t be here, in this position, with him like this.

But there he was, fingers tightening just slightly, as though afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip.

You blinked slowly, heart pounding in your chest. His steady breath was the only sound you could focus on. But, eventually, your breath caught in your throat, and you shifted uncomfortably, instinctively pushing his arm off of you.

Lo’ak jolted awake, his eyes widening as he registered the position you were in. Panic flickered across his face as he quickly scrambled to sit up. “Shit, shit, I— I’m sorry. I didn’t realise—”

But before he could finish, you tried to sit up, only for a sharp, agonizing pain to seize your body. A gasp escaped your lips, and Lo’ak was instantly by your side, his hands gently but firmly pushing you back down. His touch was urgent yet tender as if he couldn’t bear for you to move too much. “Hey, hey, no. Not yet,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with concern. “You need to stay down. You shouldn’t be moving around like that.”

You were breathing heavily before you finally rested your head back on the woven pillow, letting out a strained breath as you held onto your torso. “What was it? A bullet wound? Ship inbound south?”

But Lo’ak couldn’t shake the image of you, pale and unconscious, lying in his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, the rawness in his voice betraying the fear that still gripped him.

But everything in you screamed to pull away. Every part of you screamed for space, for freedom, from the confusion swirling in your chest. You didn’t want to feel this—didn’t want to feel him and everything else. Not now. Not after all this time.

You could still feel the weight of his touch lingering on your skin, even though he hadn’t moved. It felt like too much. Too much of everything—too many memories, too many emotions, too much hurt that you weren’t ready to face.

You turned your head, closing yourself off, instinctively seeking space from the one person who had always known you too well. “I’m fine,” you muttered, voice strained, as you tried to push past the moment, to erase the tension.

And that broke him.

“Don’t, please don’t turn away from me like that.”

Your chest tightened at the sound of his cracked desperation, and before you even realized it, the first tear slipped down your cheek, a silent testament to everything you’d been swallowing for so long. Then another. And another. The floodgates opened, and you couldn’t stop it. The rage, the heartbreak, and the confusion all collided inside you, and it felt like you were choking on it.

You wiped your face shortly before turning back to face him, refusing to let him see you as weak, but the tears kept coming and it felt like every breath you took was filled with the weight of all the years you’d spent holding this in.

“Why? Why can’t I?” Your voice cracked, each word trembling with the weight of your emotions, your sobs raw and desperate. Without thinking, you struck his chest, but the punch was weak—your fury still sharp, but tangled with something softer, something that hurt more than the anger itself. “You just decide leave my life for what seemed like forever, and now you’re back, begging me not to turn my back on you as if you didn’t do that to me first? Tell me, how—how does any of that make any sense? How is any of that fair?”

Lo’ak flinched at your touch, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t make excuses, didn’t try to defend himself. There were no words that could change the past. So, he stood there, letting the storm of your emotions crash over him. Every word, every tear, every breath you took felt like a weight he deserved to bear.

You grunted, frustration bubbling up inside you as you shoved him away again, the motion too weak to be anything but a desperate push for distance. You couldn’t stand being this close to him and yet feeling so far apart. “I know about Sänika—I know about everything. Why? Why, Your words caught in your throat, each one harder to say than the last. “How could you do that to me?”

Lo’ak’s eyes fell shut, and he felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. He hated seeing you like this—angry, hurt, broken—and he hated himself even more for being the one who had caused it.

“I was scared of losing you after Iknimaya,” he admitted, his words stumbling over themselves. He clenched his fists at his sides, as though holding himself together and resisting himself from holding you.

“What?” You stared at him, your anger faltering only for a moment, but the pain was still there, sharp and raw.

“I was scared,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though the truth was too heavy for him to bear. It took everything in him to admit it, but here he was, admitting it. To you. That you’d… want someone else. And I’d just be nothing more than a friend to you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was evident like he was confessing something that had been eating away at him for far too long. He winced, hating himself for the weakness, but the truth had to come out. “I couldn’t bear that. Not with you right there, within reach, always in front of me. So, I left.”

Lo’ak’s breath hitched, his chest tightening like a vice. He couldn’t look at you. Not now. Not with all the mess he’d made of everything.

“You didn’t care when we talked about other girls,” he muttered, each word feeling heavier than the last. He swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the choking feeling in his throat. “So I… thought you didn’t—I didn’t think it mattered.”

He closed his eyes as if to stop himself from falling apart completely. But it didn’t work. It was all crashing down. “With Sänika,” His voice cracked, the words barely there. “We’re not together. We never really were. Because I can’t love anyone else.”

He almost didn’t want to speak anymore, terrified of what else might spill out. But there was nothing left to hide. No more masks. No more walls. Just a broken, desperate mess in front of you.

The silence that followed was deafening. You sat there, not moving, but the anger in your eyes was unmistakable. Lo’ak could feel it like a physical blow, but he stayed still, waiting for you to say something—anything—or even nothing at all, to leave.

But then, without warning, you cupped his face in your hands, Lo’ak’s breath hitched as he looked into your eyes, trying to find something—anything—that would help ground him of what had just spilt from his lips.

But, you didn’t give it. Not at first. Instead, you slapped him, Yet, in that same split second, you weren’t thinking anymore.

You leaned forward, crashing your lips against his, causing Lo’ak to stumble back slightly on his elbows. His arms moved around you, pulling you closer, as though afraid you might slip away again. He ignored the way his cheek burned where your hand laid.

It wasn’t calculated or planned. It was sudden, and passionate, all the feelings you had locked away for so long spilling out in that single, electric moment. His lips felt so soft and truly desperate, for all the right reasons this time. It was as if he, too, was tired of fighting.

His breath was shaky, and so was yours, each inhale a mix of relief and longing. His chest rose and fell beneath your hands, and you could feel the beat of his heart echoing in his chest, frantic and alive. Your hands moved instinctively, sliding up to his neck as if it were the only thing you could cling to at that moment as he rawfully kissed you. Like he needed this more than words could explain. You could feel like he was pouring everything he had left into you, trying to undo all the mistakes and all the lost time, with every move he made.

The kiss was more than an apology—it was a confession, an unspoken admission that both of you had been holding on to something. Something that neither of you could let go of.

As you both pulled away, Lo’ak’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made everything else feel distant and unimportant. Slowly, he leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the moment. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that.”

The world around you faded, and for a heartbeat, it was just the two of you.

“Lo’ak,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “Promise me you won’t ever doubt me and you ever again?.”

Lo’ak’s closed eyes flickered open to meet your piercing ones, humming a low, “I promise.”

And just like that, for the first time in ages, the wound within you— the one that had been so raw and painful—didn’t hurt as much anymore. It had softened, faded into the background, replaced by something new, something whole. Something that had been waiting for this moment to heal.

It felt like you could finally breathe.

AHHHHHH thank you for reading! 💞💞 i spent so much time editing i can’t even remember which scenes i kept so i’m really leaving it up to y’all’s about what y’all’s think of the way the events turned out. not expecting much since this is the very first fic i’ve actually been able to finish that is like 12 k words long, and there’s probably a lot of AFIs. BUTT atleast i was able to start and finished something so passionately long like this for the first time. hope y’all’s enjoyed!

as always — likes, comments, reblogs are deeply appreciated. 🫶🏻

requested tags:

@starduszt @sodapopsluvr @pluhhbaby @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog

[cards-of-rose]

study tip!! how i write essays

going from a long, intensive classical education to my current history major, i've had to write a lot of papers. at this point, i can write a 5 page paper in a few hours, and just a couple weeks ago i wrote a 20 page paper in a single day. i graduated valedictorian with this method (current cGPA of 4.0!) so i thought i'd share how i write them! grab some coffee and settle in - it'll be a long post, but i promise it'll be worth it. :)

first, the topic. if you don't have an assigned topic, pick something that fascinates you, something that you could write pages and pages about. you will. if your topic is assigned, find something in it that you find fascinating. even if you find your topic completely boring, there's always something interesting to glean from it! once you find this, you'll gain motivation, and that's half the battle.

write down a basic outline. when i say basic, i mean barebones. just a vague, 3-point general idea of what you think you might write your paper about. this will guide you in your research! you don't need to worry about writing your full outline just yet.

sources. after you have a basic list of points, it's time to find sources! if they're already assigned, you can skip this step. most of the time they aren't, though. this is the most important part of your paper. you can go to google scholar to find really good academic journals and studies!

generally, the number of sources you have depends on the length of your paper! a good guide is that your amount of sources should number half the length of your paper. so if you have a 5 page paper, 2-3 is a good way to go. if you have a 20 page paper, you'll want around 10.

evidence. skim over your sources and categorize each one under the point you made earlier. this will mean you have a quick reference guide when you're writing, so you don't have to go through a big list of sources when you're looking for evidence! under each source, put a few bullet points talking about the info that you can use for your paper.

outline. this part may seem daunting. i promise, though, it's one of the easiest parts of the paper! you may feel tempted to skip it, but having an outline makes your paper sound better and makes it easier and quicker to write. use the sources and bullet point info you used earlier to fill out your outline. start broad and general, then add details as you do your research! your outline should be about half the length of your paper. don't worry about making it super scholarly - this is just for you, so make it as informal and easy to understand as you want! be stupid, throw in memes, whatever gets it written!

every outline should include an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. i can go over the structure of an outline in another post, but remember the 3 points you thought up earlier? these will form your entire outline, and eventually your essay!

finally, write! open a blank google doc and view it side by side with your outline. once you get started, it's a lot easier to finish than you'd think, especially if you took the time to outline! this is when you can make your dumb outline into something that would make the ancient philosophers proud. don't worry about perfection. just write it as you go. you can edit it later!

quotes/evidence. once you've finished your rough draft, it's time to add the evidence! some profs want quotes, others want you to paraphrase. either way, go through your paper and put in the evidence you researched earlier. don't worry about citations just yet - just put in the link in a comment on your rough draft. it won't be hard to fix it up later.

edit!! please, please don't finish your rough draft and be done with it. you can save so many points by going over it again instead of submitting it in a rushed 3am haze. fix spelling and grammar, add citations and a reference page, edit for clarity, anything you need to make it sound like the best paper you can write! if you're proud of it by the end, you know you've done something right.

congrats, you did it!! make sure you start your paper early and don't wait till the night before - your grade will thank you <3

[wooskirbyplushie]

Not So Sober Nights ~ Kang Yeosang

✰ yeosang x reader where yeosang is tired of running to your aid when you get a little too drunk

✰ word count: 660

✰ mdni/18+

✰ warnings: cussing, female!reader, light angst cuz i can only read so much heartache, mentions of drinking and clubbing, light smut (nothing crazy just like. first or second base maybe)

✰ italics are used for inner thoughts and bold italic is used to emphasize words

✰ a/n: hi hi im back! firstly thank you guys sooo much for the support on my little hongjoong fic, i appreciate it so much 🫶🏼 my friends are now threatening me to finish it, but in the meantime i’ll post other drafts and drabbles i have in my notes. and once again the dividers used are by @cafekitsune 💚

our little secret ~ k.hj

yeosang sighed as he kept you steady on your feet, helping you walk to the elevator of your apartment. you and him both knew that you could handle your liquor, but there was the occasional night that his phone would ring because you overdid it at a club. you always called him, it was always yeosang being dragged out of bed to come to your aid at 3 in the morning. but he would never ignore you, no. no matter how much he hated running to help you, he would still go.

he would never admit how much he wishes he could mute your calls, pretend as if you didn’t need him. turn on his do not disturb and turn off his ringer to finally get a full night of rest.

it wasn’t always like this, at one point yeosang could’ve sworn you were going to get married, that you were in love with each other. but he started realizing the patterns. the manipulation, the way you made him feel needed and dropped him in the same motion. you would build him up with flirting and kisses, little touches as light as feathers that the average person would brush off as nothing, and yeosang would take all of your actions to heart.

he kept his thoughts internal as the elevator dinged and opened on your apartment level. you stumbled against yeo again before he adjusted your arm around his shoulder and guided you towards your apartment.

“sangieee” you sang out once you reached your door. your song was ignored though, yeosang focusing on finding the spare key you gave him so he could get you and himself to sleep. he knew what you wanted — shit he knew what he wanted — but he was tired of being used.

he finally flung the door open, dragging you inside and turning the lock behind him. “god this is draining” was all he kept thinking. you eventually untangled yourself from his grasp, stumbling towards the kitchen, which yeo assumed (really hoped) was for you to get a glass of water.

yeosang sighed and walked towards the couch, deciding to crash at your place for the night. he was entirely too tired to drive back home and it was honestly the least you could do for having him up at 3am to save your ass again. he moved a few pillows over before laying on his back, eyes closing shortly after, but it wasn’t long before his sleep was interrupted. again.

“yeo bearrrr” you let out in that same sing-songy tone as before. he forced his eyes open to see you hovering over him with your usual head tilt and puppy eyes, wearing a sports bra and sweatpants. his sweatpants from the last time he had to take you to his house and you needed a change of clothes. he couldn’t deny how good you looked, but he also had to fight his thoughts…

“go to bed y/n, please. we both need sleep.” yeosang tried to persuade you, but you and him were on different missions, and he found that out the second you straddled his lap faster than he could react.

“fuck, no. no, we need to go to sleep”

“cmon yeo ~” you almost purred, leaning down to leave a trail of open kisses in the crook of his neck. “missed you. need you.”

he was falling for it again, and fast. fuck he knew you were just using him again, but being used sounded so good with you kissing on his neck on top of him like this. his hands met your waist while he adjusted underneath of you, you finally coming up for air and meeting his eyes in the dimly lit room.

yeosang reached up and kissed you. he couldn’t help it, he knew he shouldn’t but you had such a grip on his morals.

fuck. just one more time and i’ll debt it…

[toffeelemon]

may never make it out challenge

thank you @phneltwrites for tagging!

Post a 1-5 paragraph excerpt of a WIP / fic idea that may never make it out of your drafts but is near and dear to your heart

tagging @hergrandplan @skibasyndrome @royalwilmon

okay so. this is abandoned and i will not write any more because my betas refuse to touch it for my mental health’s sake. it’s - a bit much. i can never not make it personal i guess. also it’s post s1, started this in 2022, and it’s wip titled breathe

please look at cw before proceeding!

cw: suicide attempt, non-graphic self injury, blood and stuff, mental health crisis

Wilhelm doesn’t remember much.

He remembers the sharp cold porcelain of the inside of the bathtub, his bare arms and feet pressing against it. The stainless steel tap is also freezing, digging into his back. His vision swimming in the veins of the ugly green marble lining the walls. The dim yellow light in his ensuite - the only room in the palace with no windows. (Good. No one needs to see him like this.)

He remembers seeing red. Dark, crimson red. Trickling and hardly dramatic. He remembers hysterically thinking it even looked a little pathetic.

Simon’s phone rings at 11 at night. His phone is never on silent when he goes to bed - old habits die hard. The constant fear that someone needs him when he’s asleep never left Simon, even after they moved away from Micke years ago. And now, there’s Wilhelm, who calls him high out of his mind from a football field. Simon shudders to think what would happen if he didn’t pick up. (Simon would always pick up, even now. He hates himself for it.)

He was about to go to bed, school starts in two days and he needs to fix his sleep schedule from playing League with Ayub till 3am every night. (Fucking school. Hillerska. Where he has to endure that strange, almost pitying look from everyone. Dread twists his stomach just thinking about it.

And Wille. He’s going to see Wille again, for the first time since the Christmas holidays. Something else twists in him. Simon’s not quite sure what it is.)

Wille.

Simon springs up into a sitting position then, the duvet thrown off his waist in an instant. He stares at the contact picture, a shaky photo of Wille on the back of Ayub’s bike, screaming into the clouds happily, that he never had the heart to change.

Simon’s mind races to the darkest places.

Wille has made good on his apology - he hasn’t tried to beg Simon to have him back again, trying his best not to make this harder on either of them. There have been short and civil texts, Merry Christmases with a single emoji from Simon’s side. After everything, Simon is glad that Wille at least keeps his distance, as much as it hurts. Simon isn’t sure if he could keep standing his ground. Wille hasn’t always been kind to him - but he tries. Simon knows he does.

If Simon was more stubborn, or bitter, he would have just hung up. But he has forgiven Wille a long time ago.

The phone is still ringing. Simon can’t stop worrying, so he just scoffs at himself in disappointment and picks up, if only to swipe away Wille’s smiling face, frozen in time and mocking Simon.

Wille is crying. Simon’s anxiety spikes up, gripping the phone tightly and pressing it flat against his ear as closely as possible, as if that would take him closer to Wille, where he could touch and squeeze the pain out of him.

“Wille? What’s wrong?” Simon asks, over and over again, desperately trying to get through the distorted heaves coming through his shitty phone’s speakers.

Simon has never seen Wille cry. Nothing beyond shedding a tear or two, staying composed as much as he could on the outside, even when there’s a storm in his eyes, heavy clouds threatening to spill. Simon has always been weak for it, even when Wille hides it as much as he can.

Wille is sobbing. Simon doesn’t know what’s wrong. He’s heartbroken and scared and frustrated, hating the feeling of being helpless and so far away.

“Simon - I,” Wilhelm chokes, sniffling and hiccuping on his own breath, and Simon hangs onto his every word. “I’m so sorry, I - I didn’t want to bother you, but -”

“Wille? Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Simon chases after immediately.

“I -” Wille gasps, and Simon’s mind unhelpfully fills in with scenarios. Wille sounds like he’s in pain. “I did a bad thing, Simon, I’m so sorry -” Wille is crying again.

“Wille? What happened?” Simon whispers fearfully, still entirely lost.

“ - I don’t want to die, Simon, I don’t want to die,” Wille squeaks, tearing up in panic, and Simon starts kicking his feet into the jeans discarded on the floor, even though he doesn’t know where to run and how to help.

“Wille, please tell me what’s going on,” Simon’s voice cracks, and he wipes at his eyes furiously. He can’t cry. Crying won’t help. He needs to get his shit together and act. Simon shifts gears, into the big boy that he has always desperately wished he didn’t have to be.

“There’s so much blood, oh God, fuck -” Wille whispers, almost disbelievingly, and Simon takes in a sharp breath.

“Wille? Can you call for help? Are you home? Is there anyone in the house?” Simon fires at him, belatedly realising how ridiculous calling the palace a house is.

Simon thinks about Crown Prince Erik, how the Royal Family is supposed to have a whole battalion at their beck and call, and yet, in his last moments, Erik was alone, not even found until hours later -

Simon snaps out of it, doesn’t dare to finish that train of thought.

“I - I don’t know - maybe Malin is around - I can’t, I can’t,” Wille babbles in panic, whilst Simon puts him on loud speaker, yanking a two day old jumper over his head and gathering his wallet and keys.

“I don’t actually want to die, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry -” Wille sobs, and Simon’s heart shatters.

What happened to Wille? Did Wille himself -

“I don’t want them to know - they’re going to be so mad, Oh God, Mum is going to be so mad at me, what have I done -” Simon switches loud speaker off again, clamping his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he scrambles out of the house as inconspicuous as he could, thankful that his sister and his mum have already gone to bed.

Simon kicks his bike upright from where it laid against the shed, cursing under his breath when he skids across the frosted pavement and almost falls off, right before he finds his balance on the main road again. It’s difficult cycling against the gritted tarmac, snow melting into slippery slush, especially with how Simon squeezes his shoulders praying that his phone doesn’t fall off, but Simon is nothing but determined. There’s one last train to Stockholm that runs at midnight, and it’s not fast enough, but it’s the closest teether to hope Simon has.

“- Mum is going to send me away if she finds me like this,” Wille babbles on, breathing heavily, “I need to see you before I go, Simon, I miss you, I can’t go -”

Simon is too afraid to decipher the double meaning behind Wille’s words. Wille can’t leave him, not like this.

“I’m coming, Wille, I’m coming,” Simon reassures shakily, not caring to lock his bike as he jumps off when he arrives at the parking lot outside Bjärstad station, immediately running to the light where the lone platform is still operating.

“I love you, Simon -” Wille stutters out in between gasps, and Simon trips on his own feet, eyes going blurry and tears running unpleasant cold tracks down his cheeks. “I’m so scared, Simon, please save me, I’m so sorry for asking again and again -”

“Don’t be sorry,” Simon cuts in, almost stern. “Wille, hold on, okay? I’m coming to you. Wait for me.”

Wille whimpers, shuffling with a slight clutter in the background, and Simon imagines him nodding his head, quite literally holding on with his own arms around himself.

Simon pulls his phone away from his cheek for a second, frantically scrolling around until he confirms that he does have Malin’s contact number. Wille has sent it to him shortly after the video - for if Simon ever gets into trouble with the paparazzi. Wille has told him that he could always call, even after they broke up.

“Okay, I’m going to hang up soon, okay?” Wille makes a wounded noise, terrified and anxious. Simon continues before he could spiral any further.

“I’m going to get Malin, and you’re - you’re going to live, okay? You’re going to live, Wille.” Simon says resolutely, a demand and a plea and a conviction. Wille sniffs, choking out the quietest “Yeah” that barely filters through the phone call.

“Hold on, Wille, I’m coming,” Simon promises reverently over the phone, “I’ll see you, yeah?”

“See you, love you,” Wille chokes out, shaky and almost relieved, and Simon bites his lips to stop himself from answering.

[yourpenpaldee]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ A BRIEF WIPS OVERVIEW.

Hello! I am not good with deadlines, especially when I set them myself. This post was supposed to be up three days ago, but it’s finally here! I’m very excited to share these projects as they were all created from different periods of my life, going back four years at the most.

These will be very short intros, but each WIP mentioned here will have a proper, detailed post when it’s time. The projects also aren’t listed in sequential order of when I’ll post about them with the exception of the first WIP.

A heads-up, most of these are romance since I used to write only romance. It was only about two years ago since I decided to finally branch out, and those stories will be coming soon! For now, I still have to figure out how to write characters that have a way higher IQ than I do…

On we go to the WIPs!

WHEN ART TALKS

— currently undergoing the first draft. — first person — a college romance where a reserved poet who is afraid of public perception connects with an outspoken musician due to their preference on using words as their art medium. — contains late night walk convos, cigarette smoking, passionate rambles, and microwaved meals. — “‘Why do we care about them when it���s our story to tell? We live our truth, we speak our truth, and we have to trust that it’s good enough because it’s all we got. The message will be received by those who are meant to hear it.’”

BLIND SECOND CHANCES

— currently undergoing the first draft. — dual first person — an adult romance in which ex-friends turned (unofficial) ex-lovers from high school decide to explore the old feelings that resurface when crossing paths eight years later. — lots of reminiscing, betrayal, weekly wine nights, and fancy dates. — “‘You’re holding onto a love from a situation where we didn’t even know our place in the world yet. We spent nearly eight years growing into the people we are now, so you need to be prepared for our dynamic to look and feel different because we aren’t the same kids we once were.’”

TO NEW BEGINNINGS

— brainstorming complete, drafting to begin soon. — third person, still deciding on the type — an adult romance story of a woman who decides it’s time to start over on a blank canvas, and meets a booked and busy workaholic along the way. — roller skating, painting, solo adventures, and plant shopping. — “‘It’s scary to deviate from your current life and start anew when your life no longer serves you or your purpose. But I’m not equipped for misery, so I’ll be damned trying to save a life that lost the chance of saving forever ago.’”

UNTITLED ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

— currently a 3am one-liner, brainstorming begins soon — pov to be determined, leaning towards third person limited. — an apocalyptic fiction where a teenage girl fights everyday to survive in an ongoing zombie apocalypse with hopes of finding her younger sister. — found family, zombie slaying, survival vs. morality, and, uh… death. — “She looked at every colorless home she walked by and wondered what stories could be told. What every stored memory that slipped through the cracks consisted of and the emotions they’d provoke. If the lives that once occupied these spaces were unfortunately fortunate enough to make it out like she did. If they constantly watched the memories flash before their eyes as they realized those would be the last batch of joyful, painless memories; how remembering became torturous and insufferable, but is all they have to remind them of their own humanity.”

UNTITLED TWISTED BONNIE & CLYDE

— currently a 3am one-liner, brainstorming begins soon — first person peripheral or third person limited — a dark and twisted romance where two toxic lovers are at the beginning of an inevitable end and play fire with fire the entire way through. — manipulation, heists, lies, and expensive jewelry. — “The venom drips off of every word she says. She watches every last drop seep into my skin and become one with the blood that runs through my veins. How it attempts to shut down my body in hopes that I’ll beg for mercy in my final moments of weakness. That I’ll surrender my life into her hands as those soulless and apathetic eyes beam with some sick and twisted excitement. But I am sick and twisted too. We are two bodies wrapped in the same snake skin, and a snake cannot get poisoned by its own venom.”

PAST LIFE LOVER

— redoing the brainstorm process — first person or objective third person (quote will be in third person) — a soulmate, young adult romance in which a girl who no longer believes in love suddenly gets pulled in by the new barista at her favorite hangout spot. — love at first sight, breakfast deliveries, denial, and baking. lots of baking. — “Then there it was. The locking of the eyes where the inability to look away grows more and more intense with each passing second. They didn’t even know each other, but something in their eyes told them that there was a home waiting for them within each other’s souls.”

ANGEL AND KEN*

— currently on the backburner, brainstorming resumes once past life lover is complete. — prequel to past life lover. — *very much a temporary title — first person or objective third person — a 50’s historical romance where a pessimistic single mother is convinced to see the greener side of the grass by a jazz musician who looks at life through a rose-colored lens. — jazz clubs, slow dancing, tea parties, and red corvettes — “‘Why shut yourself out from the world when there are people like me that have waited for you to waltz right into their life? I know, the modern day world is frightening and filled with so much hatred that it’s hard to find happiness through it all. But people find a purpose to wake up every morning because of that one person that casts the brightest light. You’re my sun in a world full of darkness, and I hope to be the moon that reflects your light when you’re no longer visible in the sky.’”

I know I keep saying it, but I truly can’t wait to properly share these projects. I just hope everyone will enjoy reading it all and find comfort within these characters :)

I will post the the detailed summary for When Art Talks either on Monday or Tuesday (please yell at me if i don’t follow through omg), and the character intros should follow closely behind!

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

[jumpywhumpywriter]

I don’t know how to start messages at all, so I’ll just get to the point: you’re writing is hecking amazing. I literally only just discovered your blog and I’m already hooked and invested in like 5 different stories. As people say, I want to consume your writing the way a wolf tears apart the innards of its prey (hope that’s not too weird of a compliment; I mean that the writing is very good. I’m not good at expressing extreme amazement and stuff through writing at all and general social awkwardness so sorry if I’m coming off as weird, I don’t mean to).

I have more things to say/ask (like how you write so fast cause the heck? That’s a compliment by the way), but I don’t want to be rude or annoying. Anyways, I hope you’re having a good day/night and are staying hydrated and enjoying some cookies (or whatever your favorite food is) while you do writing stuff (or school or whatever. Idk anything about your life. I’ll stop talking now before I go on another tangent like right now) :)

This is literally one of the sweetest compliments I've EVER gotten! I love the analogy with the wolf tearing out the insides of its prey, that gave me a good laugh and made me smile LOL. It's not weird at all! (At least, not in MY world, because 'weird' is my version of 'normal'. You can't out-weird me haha) and I'm super socially awkward too so I totally understand how you feel!

I absolutely adore the fact that you took the time to send this to me! It really helps motivate me to keep writing! I honestly wouldn't post here very often without comments like yours to keep me going.

On to answering your questions now. This is going to be a long one.

Firstly, I have a terrible relationship with sleep. Sleep hates me. So my solution? Stay up to 3am writing giant novels! Some nights the inspiration hits out of nowhere, and I'll write like a crazy person on their 10th cup of coffee, doing five whole pages in Google Docs. Like I don't know what sleep is anymore LOL. Then I break the large chunk of writing I did up into several smaller sections I can put into separate posts on this app that I can post slowly over time to keep people entertained for a longer time instead of posting everything all at once and running out of content.

For example, I might literally have 13 posts in my drafts section ALL from a single batch of writing I did all at once the night before that took me 5 whole hours to write and edit.

In all honestly I am NOT a fast writer at all. I just happen to be able to write giant sections at a time and then split them up so I can post frequently which gives the ILLUSION that I am fast writer because of how often I post content. But in reality it's just been prepared in advance on my sleepless nights where I power through and complete whole pages at a time. (I'm actually a slower snail when it comes to writing because I try to go for quality not quantity -- I take my time to make stories interesting vs just writing as long as I can)

It's convenient too because some days I don't have the inspiration at all/experience writer's block so I can just post content I made over the previous few nights instead to make up for not writing anything new that day.

I also have ADHD which makes it so I can hyperfocus on writing for several hours at a time without a break. Sometimes I'll get really deep into a story where I just can't put down my phone and stop writing to go to sleep.

Thanks again for your WONDERFUL ask! It made my whole day (or night in this case, ironically because that's what it is right now for me as I'm answering this LOL -- proving my point about no sleep 😅😅)

Keep being awesome my new fan!! 🥰 And hope you enjoy more of my stories!

[shares-a-vest]

💖 Fic Writing Review 2023 💖

I was tagged by @penny00dreadful @rocknrollsalad @cranberrymoons and @unclewaynemunson Thanks everyone! You all smashed it in 2023. Here's to more words wording and fun fandom times with our faves.

Tbh, it took me a good month minute to work out how to do this, seeing as I don't post much to ao3 (something I intend on mending in 2024). I'm very much going with the 'feel free to show whatever stats you like' aspect of the rules.

But before all that, I'd like to use this post as an opportunity to acknowledge everyone who enjoys my writing. I kinda just fell into writing in this fandom and discovered that I love it!

I'm also sending love and appreciation to my beloved moots and everyone in the stwg discord server. Here's to another year of creating, sharing and interacting 💖

This fandom really is my happy place a lot of the time, a much-needed creative outlet and a space where I can talk to people who let me be my silly little old self.

I have so much I want to write in 2024 (including some in-the-works stuff listed below). One goal I know I have in 2024 is to write what I'll temporarily title, 'The Origin of Joanie Munson'. I would really like to knuckle down and write a looonnnggg fic this year that would tell that story.

Anyway, enough of me talking, I'll stop before I get too sappy...

Top 5 Posts by Notes:

Wayne and Claudia to Steve's Rescue

I'm Dating Garfield

My Prince

Eddie gets stuck in Steve's shower after the power goes off

Eddie Munson: Sparkly Vampire Boyfriend

Proudest Work & Reflections:

Wayne and Steve get hearing aids: This post was very much inspired by my pop's ongoing struggle with his hearing aids. HoH Steve is a beloved headcanon of mine so I was happy to receive so much love for a little ficlet that came from a very real place.

Steve spends Father's Day with the Buckleys: If there's one Steve trope I will write, it's Steve Has Bad Parents™. I always find myself writing this trope and getting Steve all sad and angsty as a personal coping mechanism/outlet for irl Dad Stuff™. I was a pile of goo over the tags and comments saying this ficlet resonated with readers! We really are just out here projecting onto our blorbos to get through shit.

Joanie Munson's First Word: I love my Joanie Munson AU. And one thing I love writing into it is Wayne being a doting Grandpa. It was a WIP for quite a while and I remember waking up at like 3am, unable to sleep and bam I finished it, proving that sometimes it's worth letting something linger in the drafts until the moment strikes.

My Fandom Events in 2023 (I did a sprinkling of others, but these I completed/worked on consistently):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge SPRING and SUMMER

Steddie Week 2023

Steddiemas

Upcoming Works & Events (aka, next in the pipeline):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge WINTER

Clarkson Mixtape Fic

STWG Hozier Project

Tagging some precious moots (plus those above) to send my love and good New Year vibes to! @thefreakandthehair @tboyeddie @steventhusiast @imfinereallyy @hbyrde36 @spicysix @momotonescreaming @withacapitalp @farahsamboolents @hellion-child @sidekick-hero (also feel free to do this tag game too if you'd like/haven't already!)

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

[poetfilm]

the little things (alice's version)

favorite tea . honestly, most of them. she rotates through rose black tea, jasmine green tea, and earl grey most often. usually hot, with a bit of (oat) milk if it's a black tea. and honey or raw sugar. favorite coffee . oat milk flat white OR spanish latte. loves a pretentious coffee shop that has things like lavender syrup. favorite sweet snack . like an entire box of cherries or raspberries. with a side of chocolate bar. favorite savory snack . anything you would normally put on a charcuterie board. favorite flower . there's a whole list of the ones she likes (in order of favouritism) but at the top is forget-me-nots. water lilies are a close runner up. favorite colors . sage green, but she is also partial to forest green. favorite fruit . three way tie between cherries, raspberries, and blackberries, but cherry usually wins. she would also argue that olives are technically a fruit but will refrain from saying so out loud because that's too controversial. favorite vegetable . she likes a leafy green, especially arugula. favorite season . autumn. favorite time of day . the ungodly hours of the early morning when she shouldn't be awake but has the creative zoomies anyways. 1am-3am is a good time for her. favorite kind of weather . pacific northwest in september, not too breezy or cloudy, but with a light rainfall. love language(s) to give . i think she's most likely to offer quality time with most people, but when she has developed a good amount of trust, she will offer physical affection. kind of like the cat you let into your home and try to befriend who takes a really long time to adjust to its surroundings. love language(s) to receive . with the aforementioned trust, i think she appreciates them all. generally, she likes subtle gestures that aren't too bold or ostentatious. quality time is probably the one she gravitates towards most because it's got a broad definition in her head. specific niche love language . telling you about the wikipedia articles or books she's read and letting you respond with your own thoughts (if she hates you, you will not get to speak at all). or bringing you a very specific type of trinket that probably looks evil and haunted. favorite hobbies . music, generally. reading wikipedia. reading books. going to the antique store and staring at the lamps she wants to buy but doesn't have space for. pretending to be the ghost of a victorian woman who died of consumption in a rustic old manor. favorite book(s) . you can't ask us questions like this. you know she has a list. but fine, we'll go with henry and june by anaïs nin. favorite movie(s) . before sunrise (1995), persona (1966), eyes without a face (1960), and paris, texas (1984). favorite song(s) . glorybox by portishead. favorite musician . it feels wrong to say anyone except jeff buckley. but elliott smith and patti smith (both smiths!) are important too. favorite animals . she's not much of an animal person, but she has somewhat befriended this one cat who sits on her fire escape and watches tv. the cat is named 'henry miller' (but she/her pronouns). she would not pick deer for herself, but i will and i'll say it. she looks a deer if it became corrupted by the horrors and now it wants revenge. favorite insect . doesn't really understand the appeal of insects but she finds the symbolism of moths very interesting. favorite terrain . forest, usually. if she's allowed to pick water, she'll say 'the bitter sea'. but i don't think that counts.

tagged by: i was tagged in something like this a long time ago, forgot about it completely and left it in my drafts. but we can say that i foraged it because i was reminded that this exists by @b1uedcollar's post. tagging: immediately forgets everyone i know once again.

[torithehoshi]

I forgot I saved this in my Drafts on the same night I made this (it was the 23rd I think and it was 3AM so I'm not surprised I forgot) and I remember why but now that doesn't matter. I've been so deep in this hyperfixation, I already did slight changes to how I draw Heart in my doodles since recently I've tried to spend a total 1 hour collective time drawing a day.

Still - I really like how this came out. The pose turned out really good and it was good practice for palette related things. Also been trying to use the blur tool more even if it's just slightly on the wings.

Anyways yeah. I've really gotten into Chonny Jash's music - especially CCCC Vol 1. I love music hyperfixations. I really wanted to draw things related to it - but I gotta get a feel for drawing The Guys:tm: so things change quickly (especially with how often I've been drawing it) or I'm simply indecisive. And so here we are.

(More ramblings under the Read More)

I have a lot of doodles I want to post, both digital and traditional. If only because I think the progress has been interesting to see (I have doodles from like - the very first time I tried drawing Heart and Mind and they're baffling to look at compared to now) and also you can see what I mean by indecisive in a lot of them with one character in particular (Mind. It's Mind.)

Though with how much writing I already do in these posts we'll see! There are a few traditional things I'd like to post - but also I'm forgetful and the process of how I post traditional art now requires me to keep working through the process and not distract myself.

Alright that's enough rambling.

[tencrushesperday]

Girls wanna have fun

Maveric Lamoureux x reader, friends… or more…? 2k

this is clearly not finished but it’s been in my drafts for over a month and i can’t seem to finish it so im just gonna post it the way it is

“ Girls just wanna have fun”, you say into his ear.

He is still bent down when you lean away, shrug your shoulders and give him a mischievous smile.

You were set on find a cute guy to flirt with tonight the second Maveric texted you asking if you wanted to go out to the bars with him and some friends. Instantly getting up from you couch, you switched from watching Desperate Housewives to your getting ready, bad bitch playlist.

The low cut tank top you had ordered was beginning to be worn and you had found a new hack to style your hair on tiktok that you wanted to try out for a while so the answer was a no brainer.

By 8:30pm your screen lit up with another text from Maveric telling you to head down as they were already waiting for you in the Uber.

The ride to the bar was a short one, your apartment being located downtown. Which was very convenient on nights like this one when you were hopping to bring home a guy.

You were feeling yourself at the bar. Maveric paid for the first round of drinks, then another one of his friends paid for your next cocktail. Soon after your second drink, you were on the dance floor swaying your hips and whipping your hair.

You danced with a few strangers before a hot guy caught your attention. Your energy matched well and he offered to buy you a drink saying “your hand looked lonely without a drink in it”. Lame line but his arms looked like they would fit great around you so you weren’t about to let such a small detail bother you.

You followed him to the bar where the guy ordered your drink of choice. You chatted some more, casually hitting his bicep or bumping your hip into his. His intense stare was saying what his mouth wasn’t. The conversation was fun with some banter here and there but he was staring at your lips every other word, and at your chest every time you would giggle. You know you had him right where you wanted him.

Once you finished your drink, you offered to go back to the dance floor and he led the way. But before you could go too far you felt someone grabbing your wrist.

Your eyes meg a chest and you had to crane your head backwards to meet Maveric’s eyes. He looked.. concerned? annoyed maybe? You couldn’t place the emotions running through his face when he bowed down to reach your ear.

“You sure about that guy?” he spoke loudly over the music.

He is concerned for your safety. Like a good friend should. He is a good friend.

It was a mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now. Since the second his hand on your waist had felt different. You have been friends with Maveric for some time now. And one day, the air shifted. He was no longer cute little Maveric who you would wingwoman for if ever needed or who you’d play Mario Kart with until 3am and sleep in the same bed without a thought.

Suddenly Maveric had become the guy whose touch felt electric and whose face would pop up in your mind whenever you’d pass a wedding shop or a family that made you dream of your own.

It was weird to be silently in love with a friend, someone so close that felt so off limits at the same time. Yet, it felt so natural when he was such nice, funny and kind hearted person. Maveric always seemed like a ray of sunshine that would always improve everyone’s mood around him. His presence was addictive and his joy contagious so you would enjoy it for as long as you could. (And frankly the man is hot.)

He had never done anything that would have led you to believe the feelings were reciprocated so you have been waiting for them to die down, filling up your time and empty bed however you could. Not wanting to spoil the friendship that meant so much to you, you kept your feelings for yourself.

So this time again you repeated your mantra to yourself before answering him.

« Girls just wanna have fun », you say into his ear.

He was still bent down when you leaned away, shrugged your shoulders and gave him a mischievous smile.

Leaving him there, you turned around and head back to the dance floor. His eyes were heavy on your back all the way and once you reached the guy from earlier you did your best to block any thought of him.

It turned out to be a tough feat as he was constantly in your peripheral vision, his tall body towering over the whole bar. He hadn’t talked to a single girl the whole night and you knew he was still keeping an eye on you. It sent shivers down your skin much more than the touch of the guy you were currently grinding against.

The image of Maveric being behind you snuck its way into your mind and that was when you decided you needed another drink. You turned around to tell the guy that you were going to get another drink but he offered to go get it for you so you went to the bathroom to get your head straight again.

You were pushing and dodging people left and right making your path through the bar to find the guy with your drink when a large hand set on your hip and turned you around.

“I should walk you back to your apartment it’s getting late.” Maveric was again bending down so you could hear what he was saying.

Suddenly his familiar sent hit you and you forgot to listen to the words coming out of his mouth. The hairs on the nape of your neck stood up and your breath caught at his closeness.

He said your name again getting you out of your head. Your gazes locked and the song in the background faded away.

“You’re already too drunk let’s get you to bed.”, his toned was filled with a giggle as he threw his arm around your shoulder.

The contact was like a jolt of electricity, waking you up.

“What no I have a drink waiting for me i’m not even that drunk.” which was true. You were tipsy, ears red and a pleasant fog was clouding your usual anxiety but you were far from being drunk.

“I also have someone waiting for me so if you’ll excuse me”, you were ready to turn around and go back to finding the guy from earlier.

But Maveric wasn’t having it.

He had seen you flirt with that excuse of a guy the whole. He’d seen how that guy looked at your chest, how he had laid his hands on you le waist and hips when you danced together and decided that guy was a pervert and not worthy of your attention.

He simply had to intervene for your own good. You would probably regret bringing a guy home that didn’t even look like he would be a good fuck.

Maveric was doing you a favour. That was what he convinced himself he was doing. Even when a cute 5’9 blonde approached him and he quickly turned her down, he told himself that he had to be a good friend and look after you.

He grabbed your elbow lightly and stopped you in your tracks again. “Please let’s go home i’ve seen that guy flirt with another girl at the bar the second you were out of sight he’s not worth your time.”

He was beginning to sound patronising and you didn’t like it one bit. You were ready to retort something back when he spoke again, much softer this time. “Let’s go watch your favourite disney movie and get delivery I really don’t like this bar.” he was looking at you expectantly then added “please..?”

And how could you say no to him? You would choose spending time with him over any other guy every single time. The battle was lost the moment his hand touched your waist.

You nodded and slipped your hand into his before heading for the booth where some of his friends were still sitting. Maveric grabbed both his and your coat telling them you were leaving and you bid everyone who was there goodbye.

When you got outside, the air was fresh, helping you sober up a little. Maveric still had your hand in his, he didn’t want to lose you in the bar at first, and now he just didn’t want to let go.

You argued over ordering chinese or burgers and settled on sushi. Then you argued over the music choices in the bar and how rap would the end of dancing music.

He laughed at you as you went on and on about how putting in Pitbull and Timbaland would change the game and make any night so much more fun. Being so engrossed in your arguments and explanations you didn’t catch the adoration lining Maveric’a eyes and he let himself bask in all your passion even about such a random subject.

When you reached your apartment, Maveric leaned on the wall while you looked for your keys in your purse and opened the door. He studied your every move and finally thought that maybe it was him who had gotten one drink too much because suddenly each one of your moves was worth of a meticulously dissection frame by frame. He was entranced by you following you into your apartment and only got out of his trance when you got into your kitchen and disappeared from sight.

He shook his head, taking off his shoes and jacket, wondering what had gotten into him.

When he walked into the kitchen you were preparing tea for the both you. You didn’t look drunk, just tired, even though he convinced himself otherwise when you were at the bar. His mind didn’t want to accept that you found that guy you flirted with attractive so it blamed it on you being drunk.

But maybe you had really found that guy attractive and he just spoiled your night for you. Did he?

His internal turmoil was cut short by the doorbell. Your food was here and he went to open the door and pay the delivery guy.

He ushered you to go get ready for bed, assuring you that he would get it all ready for the both of you.

“I should have one of your shirts look in the closet on the left side.” you shot at him on your way to your room.

After a quick shower, you slipped into your comfortable pyjamas that consisted of a large t-shirt and plaid pants and started taking off your makeup.

You didn’t want to overthink Maveric staying over again, or him holding your hand half of the way to your apartment. But mostly you didn’t want to overthink the something new and unfamiliar that had coated his voice when he spoke about the guy you were flirting with.

Reading into each one of his moves would be fruitless. He was your friend. He was being a protective friend. Period.

You repeated that to your reflection in the mirror trying to convince her. You were too tired for this tonight.

When you walked out of the bathroom, you were resolute to switch off your brain and do your best to convince Maveric to cuddle. With the weather cooling down being single was more and more difficult. You were a victim of the weather that’s all. Needing some body-warmth.

The trays Maveric had set up with your food were on your nightstand and he was going through your closet for a t-shirt as you had instructed him. His own flannel was thrown over your bed, leaving him topless.

You did indeed switch your brain off earlier so staring at his back inspired you no ounce of shame, just the need to trace your fingertips over it and feel every moving muscle.

You’ll book an appointment with a therapist for this.

“You’re getting dangerously close to my underwear drawer there buddy. I might think it’s intentional if I didn’t know you.” you joked, finally making your presence known. “I said left side. In the t-shirt pile. Right in front of you.” You added getting closer and reaching for it yourself.

The shameless thoughts his shirtless figure planted in your mind forced you put some distance between your two bodies. You quickly shoved it against his chest and moved to get your laptop.

Luckily, Maveric walked into your bathroom to change himself so you were left with yourself, finally able to let out a sigh.

The reprieve you expected to wash over you didn’t come when you closed your eyes. Only the ghost of his fingers made your skin tingle and the memory of his body played behind your closed eyelids.

You physically shook the thoughts out of your head and pull up the first comedy movie you came upon on Netflix.

When Maveric came out you were tucked into bed on your side, laptop next you in the middle.

[joyful-writings]

❀ enhypen as hats i found on pinterest

all enhypen members

synopsis: uhhh all seven members of enha as weird ass hats i find on pinterest, with minimal explanation :D warnings: some of the hats are suggestive or include cuss words, but there's nothing too explicit a/n: I HAVE WIFI FINALLY!!!!! so, please enjoy this attempt at being funny while i work on finishing up some stories💜

✿ Heeseung

Heeseung gets two hats.

The first one is because he just strikes me as a boob guy. A titty appreciator. When someone mentions melons, he doesn't think of fruit. And he's damn proud of it.

The second one just made sense to me. He totally finds the green M&M hot— who doesn't? He lowkey likes the brown M&M, too, and he's not afraid to talk about it. He has a slideshow about why the female M&M's need to be sexy again.

✿ Jay

The maknae line picked this out for him because, as we know, enha loves to tease Jay.

He cried when they gave it to him. They were not tears of joy.

It's hidden in the back of his closet because he wants to hide his shame— do they really think he's a terrible father?

He overthinks his entire life.

✿ Jake

He bought this for himself.

He thinks it's funny.

Sunghoon is the only other member who thinks it's funny.

✿ Sunghoon

The reason I said only Sunghoon thinks Jake's hat is funny is for this very reason: they bought matching(ish) hats.

They're fishing bros. They obviously have matching hats.

But the reason why Sunghoon has two is because I honestly couldn't choose one. They both seem to suit the vibe I get from him.

✿ Sunoo

Honestly? I didn't have much for Sunoo. At least, not from my selection of hats I already have saved.

But! I think this is still good. I mean... if he's proud about something, he's gonna be loud about it. Or, at least, he should be.

And this is a flex, honestly.

✿ Jungwon

Another tough one for me, but I thought this matched Jungwon's chaotic energy (or, at least, the chaotic vibes I get from him).

Jungwon rubs me as the type of friend who wears weird shirts and hats ironically, just to embarrass his friends in public.

I have another hat saved that says "I Pee In Pools," and it was honestly a close second option.

✿ NI-KI

I feel like I don't need to explain the first one. Out of all the members, who's most likely to start a cult? Totally NI-KI. And he'd make it about the dumbest shit, just because he can. He'll start a Shin-Chan cult if he wants, and no one can stop him.

Now, the second hat... I feel like he'd find it online at 3AM, think it's the funniest thing in the world, and order it impulsively. Then, when it arrives, he's dying of laughter again.

Similar to Jungwon, NI-KI is trying to embarrass the shit out of his friends in public. He wears the second hat all the time, and the other members (besides Jungwon, because he's in on it) are constantly trying to hide it from him.

a/n: heyy everyone... haha... it's been a while. but only because i didn't have any internet! now that i have wifi again, i can start posting some things. at least before i get busy all over again, but that shouldn't happen until next month.

while i was waiting to have internet again, i was still able to draft out some ideas in my notes app! so, i'll be finishing some of those up and transferring them to my computer so i can edit them and post them. expect good things soon... ish!

[the-travelling-witch]

HOLLY!! HOLLY!! LEKD CAOS SORRY

Caps no caps but imagine this ALL in caps CAGSIWID ACARA SCARA

holly: “yes hello, it’s me calling again… do you have a few more anesthetics for me? yeah i wrote modern scara again and stans are feral”

vet: “again?”

lol sorry but what the hell did i log i back in on; putting all of this in one answer

“years ago” is actually one, don’t make me feel worse about this than it actually was okay jsjsh i do warn people pretty liberally that my answer times for request asks are very long and not guaranteed :’)

but yeah i’m happy you obviously enjoyed it

it appears miracles do happen, the path of amelioration starts with but a single step jshshs

i’ve had the first three paragraphs for this in my drafts for some time now, always telling myself i’d work on it while commuting or something but never did. i made a cosy drink and was passively watching tv (totally ignoring that i have a bnha fic that i need to edit) and bc the topic came up during the day, i thought i’d give it another shot at finishing this (and then work til 3am to post it when i actually managed to finish it, bc i am impatient to a fault)

i kinda worked myself into a corner making childe and idol, since realistically i know dating an idol bring with it a whole rat’s tail of restrictions and all but i think about him regularly, so it’s not like i haven’t been seeing him, i’m just not posting about it :]

also yes, i have received the message that you enjoyed it, not even i am that dense lol

hmm yeah, i’ve said it before, i’m a little eh on some VAs and don’t really follow them; sure i think griffin burns has a good voice for childe but so has the jp VA and jp is also the version i play in; something about griffin just rubs me, personally, the wrong way. i’m not saying he is a bad person or anything, there’s just something that makes me not want to engage with him

also we’ve had a lot of stories come out from (not only) VAs doing terrible things and i’ve said for myself that i’m really trying to keep a tight leash on my parasocial relationships and reevaluate them critically; obviously not every VA or celeb is terrible, i saw a video of the english VA for the female trailblazer being very excited that robin’s character showed parallels to emily dickenson and her works, which was very cute

anyway, i don’t mean to rain on your parade, i just wanted to double down on the fact that i’m not big on anything going on around the VAs (wish we could’ve gotten zach aguilar as the new moze VA bc it would’ve been hilarious given what happened with fe3h)

looks good to me though :o also no even if it wasn’t, there probably wouldn’t have been anything for me to do other than reposting; besides people seem to be finding it, which i guess means it shows up for other as well, thank you for the concern though :]

[runiestudios]

The Basement

1

When Runie moved in, she didn’t think she’d get the whole house. She was eager to live on her own but what she didn’t expect to actually have a basement. However, on the sign to the door said “keep out”. For some reason, did the owner post that there? She didn’t have chance to ask her, she just left the keys at the door in an envelope and she was pretty surprised that nobody actually stole it.

Suddenly, she got a phone call, it was from her friend Elise: “Hi Runie, how are you doing?”

“I just got here..” she said, looking around, “It looks pretty cool! I can’t believe I got it for the price they listed it as, it was such a cool deal.”

“That’s great, I was half worried it might end up being a piece of crap or something like that!” She said, sounding relieved.

“I know, there’s even a basement, I thought it was just a crawl space, but it’s a whole basement.. only, there’s a sign on the door saying ‘keep out’.”

“Did you ask the landlord?”

“No, I didn’t have time she left! Maybe I should call and ask her..?”

“Maybe, if you need any help feel free to call me, I can come over right away! Usually, unless it’s at night, you know..”

“Yeah I know, thanks I’m gonna try to do it myself though!”

“Okay, you take it easy now!”

“Okay! You too!” Runie said, hanging up.

It didn’t take long for Runie to unpack her things, she didn’t bring very much, but she did have an old type writer she brought along to try to write things down. She wasn’t sure why she just didn’t get a computer, but for some reason... the type writer seemed more reliable? Like it could get her through anything if need be.

There was no real tv, and there was power, but that’s about it. The heat was off because it was the summer time and it was electrical anyway. She wondered if the prices would increase during the winter months, but pushed that thought away!

“Okay, now, to get writing!” She didn’t wait long for the white piece of paper to taunt her, she just started writing any nonsense down and kept at it until the end, or until she actually got a good idea. She pounded on the type writer until 1am, and there were no good ideas..

Yawning, she decided to go to bed, but that’s when she heard a noise, down stairs...

“What the?” She said, What was that? Maybe it was a rat, or something.. she wasn’t afraid of rats or mice, she thought of them as her furry friends. But the thought of something down there, did errk her.

She stopped, seen there was a lock on the door and locked it tight. It seemed to work pretty well, she would just leave it the way it was for now. And headed to take a shower.

2

After a shower she really needed after moving all her stuff and unpacking she went right to bed, she tried not to think about the basement, but her thoughts were wandering, and as she fell asleep she started to dream. She dreamed of going down into the basement, only it wasn’t really a basement, but more like some kind of cave, the spun around and around until she got to the bottom in darkness, she was lucky she seemed to have a flashlight in her dream, she turned it on and looked around, there was nothing here... but she could hear something. Hear something breathing, and as she went deeper into the darkness, she could feel the breath get faster and faster, until she turn around and saw it, she wasn’t sure what it was, but it was furry and grabbed her shaking her.

She woke up instantly falling out of the bed and holding her head.

What the hell was that? She thought, and got up, it was 3am.. she decided to go to the bathroom and get a drink, but paused in front of the door to the basement. The keep out sign just hovering underneath the door. She got down on her hands and knees and could feel a bit of a draft. Was a window open down there? Nah, maybe it’s just from something else. She didn’t know what else it could be though, but she didn’t want to entertain the thoughts any longer.

She got up to her feet and headed back to bed, her head still aching a bit from sleeping wrong somehow on the bed. She fell asleep until morning, and had a night void of dreamless slumber.

3

The next day Runie got up and was eager to write again, trying to think of something, anything to get down on paper. She tried her best but couldn’t exactly get a feel for anything, until she heard another noise down stairs.

This one sounded louder, like something really crashed down there. She frowned, and then grabbed her phone to call the landlord. Of course the landlord didn’t answer, and that left her frustrated and scared.

She got on her knees again and could still feel a familiar cold air underneath it, that’s when she heard it. A knock coming from the door..

Knock-knock-knock the sound echoed powerfully into the air, she could feel it almost ring in her ears. What the hell was there??

She checked the door, made she it was locked and backed away, “Who’s there?” she said defiantly, but no response.

Maybe I imagined it, she twitched, and looked at her phone, she decided to call her friend Elise again.

“Hello?” Elise said.

“Elise, it’s Runie! There’s something in the basement, or someone, I don’t know!”

“What do you mean something or someone?” Elise asked.

“Something knocked on the door, I could hear it..” Runie said, almost whispering now, “I’m sure of it!”

“Okay, calm down... maybe you should call the police..”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe I should!” Runie said, “But, What if..”

“What if what?”

“What if it’s nothing?!”

“Then it’s nothing, but I wouldn’t go down there by yourself, you’d have to be crazy!”

“Yeah, yeah! You’re right..”

Runie paused.

“Okay, I’m gonna call them now..!”

“Alright call me back..!”

Runie shook as she hung up on her friend, calling 911...

Suddenly, the phone lost the signal.

“What?!”

Runie smacked her phone, the no signal was hanging out on the corner of the phone’s screen and wasn’t going anywhere. She crazily held it up, walking around the house trying to find a bar or two, just one bar.. but nothing.

“Damnit!” Runie tried turning her phone off and on again, maybe it just crashed that’s all, yeah crashed.

But then another knock came from the door, she jumped, this time the knock was much softer.

“Is someone there?” A young voice said through the door, “I’m so scared!”

“W-who’s that?” Runie asked.

“My name is Mary... you gotta help me! It’s after me, you gotta let me out!”

“Who’s after you??”

“The bad man! He’s coming, hurry!!”

Runie reached for the knob but stopped. Something inside was screaming at her not to open that door. Something inside was telling her she was crazy if she did.

“I- Just a second!”

Runie ran outside, and then tried to hold up her cellphone around trying to find bars.. She looked around the neighbourhood, it was eerily empty.

Runie paused, and noticed a small window by the side of the driveway.. she looked into it but could see nothing but darkness. Then turned on her flash light on her cellphone and tried looking in, nothing.

Suddenly there was a scream from inside, Runie rushed inside. “Mary! Mary are you there?!” She asked, no response.

Runie frowned, opened the door outside and went to the basement door, she unlocked the latch, and pulled it forward, forcing the door open.

She could see nothing but blackness, even the stairs that went down into the darkness was absorbed in blackness in which light couldn’t touch, suddenly she felt a gust of wind coming out from the door itself.

Runie stepped back and could feel something slimy and wet around her legs, she looked down and screamed, there was some kind of snake on her, only it wasn’t a snake, it was some kind of worm.

She grabbed at it and tired to pull it off her leg, but it didn’t move, instead of wrapped around her tighter and pulled, it tried to pull her into the darkness with her. What the hell was going on?

She grabbed a hold of the knob as she was pulled back into the cold darkness of the basement, she growled and pulled back as hard she she good, trying to pull the door back to close it, but that worm thing was in the way.

“Come on, damnit! COME ON!”

She pulled it again hard, and the door did almost close, she tried to slam it shut but it wouldn’t close, the damn worm that had a hold of her was keeping it open. It was at this point she could hear a growl, and strange animal like growl that wasn’t exactly like anything she heard before. Her skin turned to goose flesh as she hissed, and slammed the door closed again, the creature screeched in pain, and she closed it again and again and again! Finally the worm let her go and receded back into the blackness, she slammed the door shut and stared at her leg, a red welt where the worm like creature once was.

“Fuck this!” Runie said, and ran outside, trying to start her car, but her keys were still inside, in the bedroom, on her night stand.

She hit her head against the steering wheel, then looked down at the window, something was moving inside..

She decided not to risk it, but couldn’t just run to the police station could she?? She ran across the street, knocking on their door and ringing the door bell.

“Hello?! Hello?!” She said, there was nothing but darkness, similar to the darkness which she experienced in the basement. She looked at her cellphone, still no service. “Damnit!”

She ran back to her house and paused, trying to get psyched up, she ran back in. This time she could hear something banging and pushing against the door, she ran and got to her nightstand tipping it over, she scrambled to get her keys, dumping the drawer on the floor as at the same time she heard a snap. Like the sound of wood breaking apart.

She scanned for the keys on the ground, and saw them under a wad of Kleenex. Grabbing them she ran back outside but almost tripped on something. She turned and could see the tendrils of whatever it was coming from the basement. Whatever was in there was pushing it’s way through, and she wasn’t going to stay around to see it, she didn’t turn around back to get anything else, not her type writer, not her purse, she just needed the keys to her car, that’s it.

As soon as she got into the car, she turned the keys and the car suddenly stuttered dead.

“FUCK! NO!” She said, she knew this wasn’t suppose to happen, her car always started without any trouble, she just got the damn thing fixed.

Again she turned it, the car went rrrr-rrrr-rrr-rrr! Then finally turned over with a gush of smoke coming from the tailpipe. She spun the wheels and got the hell out of there.

4

A few hours later the police arrived with Runie, who refused to go back into the house. The police managed to get a hold of the landlord who came also in a huff. The police went in, and five minutes later came out.

Runie stood up eagerly, wondering what they had to say.

“There’s nothing in there..” The first officer said.

“W-what?” Runie asked, trying to understand what the officer said, they were just in there for five minutes.

“We couldn’t find any basement Miss Ortiz, all we found was a closet with some brooms in it.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you on the phone- there is no basement. This house never had a basement.”

“But, I seen it!” Runie said, “It said ‘Keep Out’!”

“Check it out for yourself.” The officer said, and let Runie go back inside.

Carefully, Runie went back inside, still shaking, almost holding on to the police officer. She stared at the door where the keep out sign once stood, and now was gone.

“I’m not opening it!” Runie said, “You do it.”

The police officer shrugged, and opened the door, inside, were.. a mop and a couple of brooms.

Runie shook and held her hands up near her head. Lucky for her, her friend Elise arrived just at the same time to see her spill in a shape on the bottom of the floor.