#this was written at a point of exhaustion like everything i write on this app sooo yeah

[garvalhaminho]

and you should speak on izzy and jace being similar because i’m surprised they weren’t as close when they both are literally the same person

i didn't write my thoughts down when i thought this months ago so this was a struggle to put together but here they are !!

jace and isabelle both have the same attitude towards the world, and they undergo a similar arc.

when we meet jace, he doesn't have an identity of his own. he created an "unbothered" persona, very sarcastic, very rebellious, and very contrasting to how you'd imagine someone who grew up like him would act. he made himself his father's son (or, more so, was forced to become that), but he quickly loses that when michael wayland, his adoptive parents' friend, wasn't his father, but valentine, the genocidal cult-leader, and he is shunned for that. the world reminds him his father wasn't who he told jace he was, he is reminded his father was a psychopathic monster and he will grow up to become exactly like him. (he later meets sebastian. sebastian who was raised by the exact same person as jace, and turned to be just like their father.) later he falls for a girl, someone new, someone who has a different perspective on life, someone interesting and lovely, someone who he discovers, too late, is apparently his sister. but who falls in love with their own sister? a monster, obviously. the theory of him having demon blood only asserted that. as the story goes, jace is forced to destroy his own personality, his own identity, forced to mold and remold himself, specifically to fit what people think of his father(s). he doesn't belong here. why should he try?

the easiest way to see how this is represented throughout the series is through his name. jonathan christopher, then jace, a wayland, then a morgenstern, then a herondale, but the happiest part of his life (aka least traumatising environment) was spent as a lightwood.

isabelle lightwood too has an "unbothered" persona, when, in reality, she is none of that, and has never been. isabelle's environment growing up was nothing short of chaos, and she knew that was something she couldn't control. so, like any human being, she tries to control it anyway. she is 15yo and a known "serial-dater", purposefully. her parents are quite conservative, that will keep their attention on her and not her brother, alec, who is not straight and doesn't feel safe enough to explore his own identity. so isabelle doesn't explore her own identity. sure, she learns to enjoy this part of her life, but it didn't start out as that, did it? and her parents were always on the verge of a divorce, something she couldn't control either, but she can pretend. she tries with how her parents act, towards each other, towards alec, towards jace, towards max, towards isabelle herself. and, like jace, she was also trained to fight. she was given her first weapon and the tender age of ten. she was forced to look at the world with the eyes of a predator and a hunter of evil, like all other shadowhunter children. she was taught to police. she even attempts to control her own feelings. the people she dates, she can't let them get too close to her, lest she grow fond of them, as they will be gone from her life soon, she will make them. but she ends up falling for someone anyway, the first time she lets herself do so. but that person lost his memories, he won't remember isabelle, and how he was her first true love. she can't love anyone properly, can she?

and jace can't love anyone properly, can he? was he even taught to? was isabelle even taught to?

(this is relating to my post, if anyone is wondering)

[writingquestionsanswered]

Stuck in Planning Stage of Writing

Anonymous asked: Do you have any advice on how to get out of the planning stage and more into the doing stage of writing? I’m up to my ears in notes for scenes and fragments of dialogue between characters. I know where I want to go with the story, I’ve even written a handful of scenes when the ideas come to me, but now that I have this lump of thoughts I need to start organizing and placing them all in their rightful spaces. The one thing I truly know is how much I’d love to see this through. Do you have any advice for a girl who’s unwittingly made herself stuck with a puzzle?

[Ask edited for length]

Planning a novel can sometimes be like digging a really deep hole for a specific purpose, then suddenly realizing you've stranded yourself at the bottom of the hole without a ladder. You've spent so much time digging the hole, you'd like nothing more than to get out of the hole and move forward with whatever project required you to dig the hole in the first place. There's just one problem: you can't teleport yourself out of the hole. You have to climb... or, ideally, build yourself a ladder to climb out with whatever materials are available to you.

That's probably where you are right now with your story. The hole you've dug was necessary, and it's good that you dug it, but as much as you'd like to just magically leap out and write your story, you can't do that. You have to build yourself a ladder to climb out of the hole first. So...

My go-to emergency "get out of the planning hole I've dug myself into" ladders are timelines, scene lists, and outlines.

Timelines: Your story may take place over a single day or several centuries, but either way, time flows in your story. All of those notes and fragments of dialogue and partial scenes are moments or events that happen within the time frame of your story. So, plotting those moments and scenes out on a timeline--according to when they need to happen--is about the easiest way to break your story down into its existing pieces and to see what's missing/where.

There are lots of ways you can format a timeline, such as a table, a list, a horizontal timeline, calendar, or a roadmap timeline. My go-to is a basic two-column document where the left column is date/time and the right column is the moment/event. There are also apps and online tools that will help you build a timeline in various formats.

Horizontal Timeline:

Calendar Timeline:

Table Timeline:

More info: Making a Timeline for Your Story Scene Lists: Stories are made up of scenes, so a list of those scenes is another great way to organize the events of your story. You may even find that creating a scene list is easier after making a timeline, because a timeline may help you see where certain moments or events need to be their own scenes and which can be combined together into a single scene. Just like timelines, scene lists can be as simple or complex as you want to make them. Once again, my go-to is a simple two-column document with the left column for the scene number and the right column for the scene summary, preferably just a sentence or two. Ultimately, once I have my rough timeline and scene list done, I usually combine them into one multi-column document along with my story structure beats.

Table Scene List with Beats:

Complex Scene List/Timeline/Beat Sheet:

More info: Scene Lists

Outlines: Outlines can be really any format you want them to be, and some people count timelines and scene lists as their outlines. My go-to outline is just an exhaustive beginning to end summary of everything that needs to happen. Sometimes, just working through your story from beginning to end can be the best way to make sense of all those disparate pieces you've been piling up.

More info: Guide: How to Outline a Plot Story Structure: Finally, I want to talk a bit about story structure templates like Save the Cat Writes a Novel!, Larry Brooks story structure, seven point story structure, etc. Story structure templates can be a really great way to make sure you're hitting all the right story beats--almost like a road map through your story. It's just important to know you do not by any means have to stick to any particular story structure exactly. Use it as a guide, take what works, leave what doesn't, and don't panic if your beats don't fall exactly where it says they should. As long as your story is working, that's what matters. Some writers even like to frankenplan their stories using a variety of different structure templates.

More info: Creating a Detailed Story Outline (story structure)

Once you finally have a roadmap for moving forward, whether that's a timeline, scene list, outline, or all of the above, you know you're ready to start writing!

Final note: I just want to add that planning isn't for everyone. Some people are discovery writers who let their stories work themselves out as they go. The above is just meant for people who are planners, who have done a lot of planning, but need to pull that planning together into a cohesive, organized document. And... if you have all of the above and still find yourself unable to start, you might find help in the links below. Happy writing! More help:

Beginning a New Story Figuring Out Where to Start a Story Deciding How to Open Your Book How to Move a Story Forward Trouble Getting Started Have Plot, Can’t Write

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[chqolan]

Comfort at night — Ed x Reader

A/N: this was something i had written up for a while in my drafts and i’m finally posting it! unfortunately there was a weird error that happened and i had to redo the last bit of this, so apologies if it feels rushed </3

TW: gn reader, fluff, a bit of angst, ed and reader are friends ! , mentions of that card game ed talks about in world tour, author can’t write to save her life

recently his nightmares had become more frequent than usual for the first time in a while. every night felt the same — constantly bursting awake, feeling dizzy, out of breath and covered in sweat… he felt like such an idiot, like a stupid little kid who couldn’t sleep alone.

ed let’s out a sigh and grabs his phone from the nightstand as he sits up against his headboard. he glanced at the time, ‘just 1:00 am…’. with a swift motion of his thumb, he unlocks his phone and opens his messaging app. from there he sees a series of texts he’s yet to respond to, but he didn’t have time for that right now.

he glanced over your contact, contemplating wether or not he should be bothering you at this hour…

‘you up?’

to his surprise, he seen the typing icon appear from your end of the screen almost instantly.

‘yup! i might get ready to sleep soon though.’ he only watched as you continued typing, ‘did you need something?’. ed sighed and forced himself to respond in a ‘normal’ way.

‘can’t sleep.’

you glance at his response and bite the inside of your cheek, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. though after a minute or so, you caught the hint that he had no intentions of continuing. both you and ed have been familiar with each other for quite some time after he helped you with beating up some weird creeps who were following you around in the subway.

since then, the two of you had become mutual friends. he’s opened up about his past, but did so very cautiously as he didn’t want to scare you away. ed wouldn’t ever admit it — but it was comforting to have a friend who wasn’t fully involved in his past or his crazy line of work. comfort was also something that ed was never used to receiving during his years growing up… the feeling was still quite foreign, but he only ever felt it with you.

‘wanna come over to my place, then? i don’t mind staying up a bit longer.’

‘plus, it feels like a while since you’ve last swung by metro city. we should enjoy your time here together while we can!’

ed reads over your messages and hums to himself. will he ever get used to the gratitude and kindness you show him? he always tends to ask himself that same question…

‘yea, you’re right.’

‘i’ll head on over right now.’

the next thing he knew, he was at the front door to your apartment. he held a blank stare and slowly held up his fist to softly knock (more like bang) at the door. the sound of the lock fumbling from the other end was heard and you cracked the door open to take a peak. once you notice it's ed, you fully open up your door to welcome him inside.

your place was so clean and organized compared to his, he thought. just by stepping inside he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. ed makes his way over to your couch and plops down with a sigh. you could tell how exhausted he was just by looking at him...

although you didn't know the details of everything, you knew that ed has been through (and still puts up with) a lot. you'd never be able to relate to his struggles like his neo shadaloo group could, but you made sure to give him all of your comfort and support for whenever he needed it.

"i know you're not one for small talk, so i'll get to the point..." ed keeps his eyes on the blank tv screen in front of him, but you knew he was listening. you take a seat next to ed and turn your full attention to him. "what's going on? you don't look like you're holding up too well, ed." you noticed from the moment you opened the door that he looked in worse shape than usual.

the bags under his eyes made it apparent that he's been lacking proper rest time, and his pale skin was scattered with red patches, along with what you could only assume to be bruises. knowing ed, he most likely wouldn't bother to take some time off and take care of himself.

the boxer was hesitant to respond. he didn’t know how to communicate very well, and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally lash out at you. ed looks in every direction except yours and you notice his leg started to bounce… was he nervous?

without even thinking, you placed your hand on his knee and softly stroked it. the sudden contact took ed by surprise as that same leg stopped its bouncing. there it was again — that weird sense of comfort you brought him which he would never get used to.

ed couldn’t bring it in himself to answer your question even though it was something so simple. he hated that he didn’t know how to respond. the boxer tiredly rubs his eyes and awkwardly clears his throat. “you’ve still got those cards i gave you, yea?” ed looks over at you and he can sense your small hint of confusion from him desperately trying to change topics.

to his surprise, you don’t mind and let up.

“oh, uh.. of course i do.” your response makes him crack a slight grin as he pulls out a small deck of cards from the pocket of his hoodie.

of course he carried these around with him.

nothing can stop the small laugh that you let out at the sight of him hurriedly looking through all his cards.

you remember ed telling you about this trading card game he had been into… you’ve bought him some cards on certain occasions because you’d figure he’d enjoy it with how much he seems to gush over this game. and he had also bought you a small deck of cards along with giving away some spare ones he thought were useless for him. he mentioned that it’d be useful for whenever you two had a chance to hang out and play together.

it didn’t take long for you to get up and find your small deck of cards. once you came back to your main living room, you seen ed already seated at your table. he was organizing everything and sat on the opposite side to your seat. without wasting any more time, you grab your seat and begin getting your cards ready to play.

to be honest, you weren’t sure how much time had passed. once you two played multiple rounds of that trading card game, you had binged a few comedy shows that had ed intrigued even though he would never admit… but you can tell he was into it just by how much he bantered with the episodes as they went on.

and now you were here…

ed was fast asleep as he snuggled into you. it took everything in you to hold on your giggle and not wake him up. you were certain that he wasn’t aware of how close he was holding on to you right now… he would probably die of embarrassment if he was conscious right now. ed had only asked to share your bed because it ‘looked comfy as hell’ , but in reality you knew there was definitely more reason behind it. and that’s how you can only assume it had to do with his night terrors.

it’s not a surprise that he wouldn’t admit that, but you knew better and allowed him to sleep with you for the night. his face finally looked relaxed as he slept here close to you. honestly, you also never would’ve thought he’d be the small spoon between you two.

though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how there was a part of you that felt extremely sorry for him… sometimes you can sense and feel the heart of a little boy inside of ed, but he’s forced to keep up such a rough exterior due to everything he’s been through.

the thought of it made you frown a little bit.

he deserves so much better.

although he’ll never fully tell you what’s going on, you still want to be there for him as much as you can. you gently move his hair to the side to see his full face and you instantly smile at the sight of him.

without even thinking, you slowly place a kiss on his forehead and close your eyes with an even bigger grin on your face now.

“good night, ed.”

[journey-to-the-attic]

Hi Kin. I wanted to ask, how did you manage things like writer's block or creative burnout while writing JTTA? I'm midway through a longfic now and it's kind of exhausting. I feel like I'm whining but I barely get any comments or asks or anything.

hi anon! honestly i'm not sure if i was the right person to ask this, because i... kind of didn't? as in, i didn't really have these problems - boring answer, i know!

i got lucky because i hit a sweet spot where the base story and characters were strong, but with just enough gaps in plot, worldbuilding, development, etc. such that the momentum of filling everything in carried me through the whole process. but there were definitely a lot of occasions where i sat there thinking "okay i have no idea what to do now"

in those cases, often i had to just step back and ruminate on it for a little while - i've pretty much constantly got little ideas bouncing around my head, and sometimes they hit each other like snowballs and form into more fully-fledged plot points, scenes, dialogue, so on. i try to keep track of these in notes apps, personal discord channels, etc, and dip into them if i'm stuck on something!

not sure if your fic is for obey me, but this could still apply even if not - with all the pop quizzes and devilgrams that put the characters in a bunch of new contexts, it's helpful seeing how that character's static vs dynamic traits persist/change depending on them, and often that'll give you inspiration as well. depending on what you've got available, you could browse through source material, or brainstorm aus, whichever you enjoy most

i'm really not sure HOW i've stuck with obey me for so long, but somehow it's just stuck with me. i don't remember being so invested in it before jtta, so that's probably why, but i just really love these guys, and i suppose that's why i never burnt out of it? i think it was also because i knew what story i wanted to tell, and i really wanted to make sure ik got her happy ending, and that carried me through as well

seriously, though - do take breaks. every writer's mileage varies, so take a step back whenever you need to. writing fics should be fun! sometimes it does feel like a chore, and it becomes more like 'the only thing i hate more than writing is not writing', but it happens to all of us. sometimes you've just got to rest until your second wind comes along

in terms of comments and such... yeah, it's a tough one! the unfortunate thing is that a vast majority of readers - even if they really enjoyed your writing! - won't leave a comment. don't take this as a direct reflection on your writing! often the reader can't think of what to say, is too shy, or quite simply forgot

again though... i'm not sure if i'm the best person to ask for advice here! i started publishing jtta without much expectation for an audience, given the genre of game it's written for, so any attention was more a nice surprise than anything. i suppose that, later on, when the fic was more well-established, i did start holding some expectation of response - and it really is tough when you don't get as much of one as you were hoping for

i've seen people talking about how the ask culture on tumblr has died down a lot in recent times, so i'm sure you're not the only one feeling like this! all i can suggest is trying to find more friends (mutuals?) and... networking, i guess? i've seen advice saying to share your fic within communities of writers, too

i can't honestly say if these things'll work, because i'm very bad about interacting with a wider fandom in anything - i usually keep to myself, so often i don't have much of an expectation for how and when people come chat. as in real life, i'm only a chatterbox when approached first haha

i'm not sure how helpful this has been, but i'm rooting for you! if you'd like to share your fic here, please do - though i understand if that's something you'd rather keep to yourself as well.

creating things is a joy - it might take some searching to find a circle, but the beauty of the internet is that you will, somewhere out there! wishing you the best ^^

[papercranesong]

i used to love Your writing but now i can't believe you have turned to AI :/ at least tag "created with ai" on your archive profile so people can know

Hi Anonymous, thanks for sharing how you feel, I appreciate your honesty. It sounds like you’ve got quite strong feelings about the use of AI and about my writing, and that must feel quite conflicting and uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry for that.

Just for context - I’ve been using AI as a tool in writing for about a year and a half now, in the various ways that I outlined in my original post here.

I started off by making a podfic of Tripping the Light Fantastic (an Enterprise fic), using AI voices (you can listen to it here on AO3, along with my blurb about why I’d chosen to use an AI software over my own voice). In this case, I think the tag ‘created with AI’ fits, and I’m happy to use it.

However, your suggestion that I should tag my fanfic with a “created with AI” tag is a little more complex. I think this tag would imply to most people that I’ve replaced my own words with Chatgpt’s words (which isn’t the case) or that I entered a prompt and got chatGPT to spew out a story (also not the case). Just to be clear, that’s not what I use AI for. It’s a tool, a writing aid, but the words and style are my own.

You do raise a good point though – what should be tagged as ‘created with AI’? (I’m genuinely curious). I’ll use my own fics and posts as examples.

1. Using AI as a proof-reader

With my original post, I edited it lots, checked it for typos, ran it through my notes app spell checker, and then as a final check I ran it through chatGPT. It turned out I’d written “throws of exhaustion” rather than “throes of exhaustion.” My notes app didn’t flag it, because “throws” is a real word, but chatGPT caught that I probably meant “throes.” This is because LLMs are able to read each word within the context of its meaning, rather than just reading it as an individual word.

So I changed it. That was my only use of chatGPT in that original post. So would you say that this needs a ‘created with AI’ tag?

2. Using AI for background research

So before I wrote Beautiful Wreck, I was watching Silent Enemy again, and thinking about Malcolm and his pineapple allergy. In the episode he’s listed as having quite a lot of allergies, at least one of which requires regular injections, implying it’s quite severe.

My background includes some immunology and pharmacology, but I’m a bit rusty, so I asked chatGPT to create an immunological profile based on the allergies listed. I didn’t use that information directly when I came to write Beautiful Wreck, but it did help shape my understanding of what it must have been like for Malcolm growing up, and informed the final chapter, when Hoshi confronts Malcolm in the mess hall.

So do I tag that story as ‘created with AI’?

3. Using AI as a writing counsellor

One of my Enterprise fics is called ‘everything’s all right now’ and it deals with some quite dark themes. I wrote it, hesitated, posted it anonymously on AO3, then deleted it a few hours later. For months I kept second-guessing myself. I wanted to publish it but I didn’t have the courage. I was also frustrated with myself because I thought that this fic was evidence of how bad a writer I felt I was – in that I’d edited it and edited it so many times, and I was annoyed that I couldn’t just ‘get it right’ the first time like other writers seemed to be able to do.

So I talked my concerns through with chatGPT (I’ve never done a writing class or studied creative writing, and there’s a lot that I don’t know about the writing process). It reassured me that editing was part of writing, not something you do after, and it gave me a nice gardening analogy to help me understand.

I plucked up the courage to post the fic, and it received a really nice response - it seemed to strike a chord with people, and I even had one author gift me their own story inspired by that one and based on my style, which was a big honour.

So do I tag that fic as ‘created with AI’?

There’s lots of other examples I could give, but you can hopefully see my point. I think the tag ‘created with AI’ is just too broad, mainly because

People already have their own opinions about AI that they will then imbue the tag with.

The tag doesn’t capture the complexities and nuances of how AI can be used as a tool rather than to simply generate words on demand.

If tags don't reflect how AI is used, they risk distorting perception more than they inform.

So, Anonymous, coming back to your suggestion, that’s why I don’t feel comfortable tagging my last 8 or so fics with that tag. (I have already linked to my original post in my AO3 profile, for transparency).

I do think it’s important to have this type of discussion though. The genie isn’t going back in the bottle any time soon, and I think it’s good to have respectful and nuanced discussions about the use of AI, especially when it comes to writing fanfic.

(Also, just to say, I’m not adverse to tagging when it’s appropriate, but I do think we as a community need to come up with clearer terms or categories that reflect how AI is used).

Thanks again for sharing your thoughts. Feel free to push back on any of these points 🖖

[horizon-forbidden-sheesh]

Writing Process: Drafting

Sooooo, I started drafting Part 2 almost immediately after Part 1 concluded—and by now I've abandoned my Scrivener file entirely and am doing everything in Google Docs. (I talk about my switch from Scrivener to Google, here. ⚙️)

This time, I didn't have all the journal entries to work from, either. I was starting entirely from a blank slate. So at first, I just let myself WRITE. All the scenes I was most excited about, in no particular order, just to squeeze all the juice out.

I did that for like a month. And then, when I had about 15-20k words of random bits and bobs, I started to put them in order, and develop a through-line. That's where the draft docs & trackers came in.

✏��� Away from Scrivener, I needed some extra organizational tools to house my more general notes, research, & scraps. So, I built this li'l cutie with easy links to all my Google draft files, and included a brief summary that helped me greatly when plotting out the next set 10 chapters for Part 2:

*The chapter titles were updated as my outline changed, but the summaries did not! The descriptor for Chapter 20 is now, like, Chapter 23.

Keeping the descriptors short really helps me stay on task. If I have so much I need to cover in a chapter that it drops my formatting to the next line, I know I probably won't be able to cover everything in ~3,000-5,000 words.

✏️ Now, that's just the first page of the "Table of Contents." As of today, it's 13 pages long, and it also houses a TON of notes and working drafts and snippets of dialogue that I am saving for future, as-yet-unspecified chapters.

It's really messy—and sometimes when I'm out & about and my service is shit, I whip open my old Notes app, just to get a thought down. Here, have a taste of what's been rattling around in my brain...

Dialogue often starts as just the dialogue. I layer in tags & descriptors later, during the editing process. Most of the conversations I've written started with me talking to myself alone in the car, in the shower, or while washing dishes. (This works for copywriting too. My best ideas almost NEVER come to me while I'm sitting-down-looking-at-a-screen. Of course.)

For instance, that same conversation made it from the Notes app into a Google Doc and has since evolved to:

A li'l somethin-somethin from the upcoming Scorcher Season's Chapter 24 🔥

✏️ Once I've got all the major plot points written, I'll go back and write the "boring" stuff in chronological order. Okay, it's not really boring. It's just the filler information that helps a reader get from point A to point B, and I edit as I go. This ends up being like half of the total word count for the full 10 Chapters.

I'm currently hitting this point in Part 3—and you can see below that just writing my favorite parts here and there gets me pretty far on its own. Over the last 3 weeks, I've nearly exhausted my imagination developing the general story arc. Next up, I'll go back and start fleshing out each chapters one by one.

Wanna know something CRAZY?? Over the last ~year, I've noticed that I tend to write nonstop during Mercury Retrogrades. Like, I don't want to do anything else. I'm learning not to schedule any major projects for these ~3 week periods, so I don't blow my deadlines on account of being too obsessed with my fanfic to bother. 😅

After my decision to expand to 4 Parts total, my original ToC Doc got a bit... top heavy. (Also, I got really tired of manually calculating all the word counts.) So, instead of continuing in Docs, I added a tab to my spreadsheet:

*Hiding my chapter summaries so as not to spoil!! 😈

As you can see, I fill in the links as I create the draft docs... and I've already had to split a chapter in half due to scale, so the untitled <Scorcher 7> dropped to Part 4. I'm hopeful I won't have to split any more, so I can end strong on 'Ten Days.'

I don't usually start the finale until the very end, because I've learned that the wonderful comments I receive will sometimes give me extra ideas that I want to ensure make it into the fic!

✏️ Around the time I've fully completed the first 5 chapters, I'll give myself the green light to start posting. That leaves me just enough runway to finish out the rest of the season, and posting on a timeline helps keeps me motivated & accountable!

This is getting kinda long, so I'll write about Trackers & Timelines I've developed along the way in another post.

Thanks for being here! 🖤

xo, Sheesh.

[nova-ayashi]

Yeah, I’m writing about something I’ve written about a few times now, but it echoes my feelings of getting older, and wishing we could take at least parts of the world back twenty five years or so. But, why? Would I, or anyone else, really actually enjoy interacting with an internet where they can’t just immediately connect with a thousand people and get some likes and shares? Am I being uncharitable in assuming this is all people care about anymore?

I feel like there was a turning point in the early 2000s, where we were kind of forced to say goodbye to everything that was good about the internet, and introduced to a monster. But, we didn’t know it was a monster. We went along with it, because it was new, and if you grew up in the 90s, new things were happening constantly. And you rolled with it.

Post by @hhardy01@mastodon.social

View on Mastodon

I’m talking about Facebook, and what would eventually become Meta. Google had its share in destroying the internet, too, but Facebook and Meta is where I believe the greatest evil lives. Albeit, at least Meta never had a “Don’t be evil” sign that they eventually took down, so that they could … be evil?

Never-the-less …

If you were on the internet in the 90s, you were already kind of a nerd. A digital tinkerer. A websurfer. So, you probably had some sort of website. Maybe something on Geocities, like we all know and love, and wish was still around. Thank garsh we have Neocities as some form of continued interest in giving people a place to be themselves online.

But, it totally wasn’t exclusive to nerds. I very much remember a girl I had a crush on showing me her AOL instant messenger bio when I went to her place once, and then her Geocities that was plastered with her made-up Star Wars Twi’lek character.

… uh, alright, maybe she was a nerd.

But, the question: Would people actually be able to tolerate returning to an internet that was just websites?

I think so, if you ease them into it.

Back in the 90s, the only real way to “post” to people were through bulletin boards. You’d join an online community site full of topics of your interest, and post threads in order to speak to other people who shared your interests. It wasn’t like posting on Twitter. You had to wait, or, sometimes, never get a reply to things you were talking about. Which, sure, a lot of people can probably relate to that by today’s standards, like when you talk into the void on social media and nobody pays you any mind.

It wasn’t hundreds of thousands, or millions of people, though. It was like fifty people, or a hundred people. That’s it. There were many of these bulletin boards, and they were all over the place. Some exist today, even still, and people definitely still use them (I highly recommend melonland for getting a sense of what it was like).

But, that wasn’t the only way that you could connect with people.

If you had a Geocities, you could “join” communities, and put a webring on your site in order for visitors to travel around through sites with similar topics (you can see some new-age webrings right here on my own website). Sometimes, maybe you’d spark interest in getting to know someone who was running a site in the same “neighborhood” as you, so you’d jump into a Yahoo chatroom with twenty other people and have a real-time chat. Or, better yet, you’d simply add them on an instant messaging app (like AOL Instant Messenger), and talk! Like … back and forth, personally!

This is what made the early internet so exciting.

You didn’t have immediate access to everyone, at all times.

Sometimes you would log on to mess with your site, and surf the net for a new desktop wallpaper, idling away time to see if some of your buddies logged on, and sometimes they wouldn’t!

But when they would, you had so much more to talk about, because you weren’t socially exhausting them, and yourself, by just always being in-touch.

It was … awesome.

Now, I know some of us might ask, “Okay, but what about people who have material need for fundraising? How would a return to the early internet accommodate something like that?”

To be honest, and completely frank, I never saw this on the early internet. But, that may be because, back in the 90s, the internet wasn’t really this place that people would log on and be like, “I need help, this is where I can get it.” People just didn’t make, or get a whole lot of money, at all, online, because that was an idea that had yet to take any shape.

Paypal didn’t exist.

Setting up some kind of internet store wasn’t really something many people … could do.

I would imagine, though, you would probably want to post something like that on a personal website, and send it to your friends, and people who share your interests on forums (bulletin boards), and it’d probably have the same effect as blasting it out on Mastodon, or Bluesky.

Speaking of, does this mean I think we should be rid of Mastodon and Bluesky?

Not entirely, no. I think Mastodon is great, and Bluesky is … okay. It could be better. But neither of them have algorithms, and Facebook is to blame for the algorithmic hell that much of the internet is, today. Without algorithms, you kind of are just talking, which … in a way, does mirror the old net.

But, we need more of that. And now.

I’m not just talking about this as something we need immediately just because AI has fucked everything up. But, because, people, as a whole, have got to unlearn the antisocial ideals that Twitter and Facebook spent over a decade hammering into us.

And by that, I mean, eschewing all social sensibilities in interacting and connecting with people, in order to to post bait. Something that will get you more likes, more follows, more fame, etc, etc. It is an addiction, a sickness, and if you spend enough time surrounded by it, you might start thinking a majority of people don’t care about anyone but themselves and their own instant gratification.

This extends to Tik Tok, too. Where this behavior is so egregious, that people engineer videos just to waste your time, because pissing people off does huge numbers!

No.

We have to deconstruct all of that. We must return to something that encouraged discovery, and connection. Maybe even for the sake of the world, actually. I don’t know.

I just wish everything about being online didn’t seem so bad, all of the time.

But that’s why I have this website.

Source: Original Post

Posted via Python, written by @cmdr_nova

[kelmenton]

Creative Rituals

What do you do to start your creative day?

For a long time, I waited for creative days to arrive. I figured that in order to make something, inspiration was going to have to strike, so I sat on the highest point I could find and waited for lightning. (Figuratively speaking. Please don’t actually do that). Those days do happen, but they feel about as rare as waiting for literal lightning to hit. Now I know that I need to schedule my creative days. It’s far less romantic, but on the other hand, much more reliable.

First, I generate inspiration for myself. I read voraciously and widely. Writing I enjoy inspires me to work harder and develop my style; writing I don’t enjoy helps me to solidify what kind of writer I don’t want to be. I listen to writer interviews, or reader podcasts, or book reviews. Anything I can get my hands on to get me excited about writing, and to remind myself why I love it.

Then I make sure to get into the mood of what I’m creating. While I get ready for the day I put on whatever playlist I think reflects the mood of a story or character I’m working on. This is a pretty vital step. If I try to approach my dystopian sci-fi world with a rom-com attitude, the words just aren’t going to come out right, if they come at all.

Though I would love to be living high in the mountains with zero responsibilities, I, like many humans around the globe, have to go to work, or exercise, or make sure the house remains free of biohazards. I try to do these things first before I actually sit down to put words on a page, so that my concentration doesn’t need to be divided. Often I can daydream while ironing or lighting a stove, or practice dialogue aloud while making dinner. Something about mundane repetitive tasks lets my brain relax, and having one or two sentences ready makes sitting down in front of a blank page later a little less daunting.

All that’s left is to make sure my belly is sufficiently full, I have some sort of nice drink on hand, and a candle is lit. Pavlov used a bell, I use beverages and scented candles. It’s a signal to my brain that We Have Begun.

I get the words out any way I can. Sometimes they want to be typed, other times handwritten. Sometimes they want to be in a big notebook, or a small one, or a shopping list, or my notes app on my phone. Blue pen? Black pen? Purple? Whatever. I used to care about separating everything out neatly, but I found it ended up stifling me. I’m much less precious about how the words get written. All that matters is that they get out of my head.

I write until I can’t anymore, or until I get hungry, or until I Really Should Go To Bed. I don’t set a word count for myself to hit. Pressure like that just makes me freeze up (though, ironically, I love deadlines). If I’m lucky, I’ll be on a Zoom call with my friend and we take breaks to share what we’ve done. I love getting excited by her work, and her enthusiasm for mine motivates me even more.

Some days the words pour out in their thousands, others it’s by the dozen. I persevere, but I don’t torture myself. If I don’t keep the love alive, my confidence will wear away until I can’t face the page anymore. I just focus on generating inspiration again. Vacuum the stairs. Walk the dog. Revisit a favourite show. If I don’t eat, I don’t have energy; the same goes for creating.

When I’m done, I blow out the candle. Can’t leave the door to the other side open, etc. Translating and transcribing your brain onto a page is exhausting, so I make sure to decompress afterwards. Generally it is a good idea to remember to talk to someone that does not just exist in your imagination for a bit.

[mr-snailman]

13, 14, and 22 for the writer's asks!

sweet! I need you to know that I feel like I'm stepping up to the plate right now which is ironic in some ways because I am so, so bad at baseball

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

What comes really naturally is friendships. That kind of known-somebody-your-whole-life thing, the inside jokes that go back twenty years, which, again, is ironic-- because I've moved so often that I've lost touch with a Lot of people XD As for the tough stuff, I have never written a successful mystery. It's the reverse-plotting thing that kills me, right, you have to know all the twists and turns before the characters do.

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

I will lend books pretty readily, but it's been a long time since anybody asked. Most of my friends and family aren't big readers. I do however have three or four nonfiction history/civics books my ex-girlfriend got from a retiring history teacher and then made me carry home gathering dust in my closet. Honey if you're reading this come take your books back I don't want them.

When I was young, like really, really young, maybe two or three, I dropped my favorite board book in the supermarket and never saw it again. I still think about that book sometimes XD

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

...organization? haha well... I have a notebook that's just kind of general-purpose. There's poetry, bad pen sketches, chem diagrams, and story outlines all jam-packed in there together. Most of the time I just open up a doc, write until I hit a wall or get exhausted, and then bullet point everything that's left to do right where I can see it. I've got some scraps and misc bs on my phone saved for a rainy day, and I'm trying to commit to a to-do list, too.

[currysochaotic]

*PLEASE IGNORE whats written below i just wanted to rant*

*I mean it please ignore i couldn't write all this on notes app hence rambled it all here, it wont make sense ignore*

my closest relationships are getting weird and fucked up rn. i cant explain. some not getting along with each other. some not getting along with me. something is my fault but its apparently not clear what is but im supposed to be apologetic and make it better because ive maybe done something to make them get weird vibes and emotionally distant from me and it sucks so much because idk man idk whats going on. this has been going on for more than a month its such a negative and exhausting episode. i know time will make it all better i have submitted my faith in the process now because im just done at this point. i dont have much energy left in me to deal with this many feelings and thoughts and fuck ups at once. i cant even say it all out loud irl because it'll feel like im victimizing myself or invalidating their concerns and their drained energy or overreacting or being dramatic or whatever. I just feel extremely misunderstood. Everybody is at fault, everybody is irritated and everybody is disappointed in each other in one way or the other here so there's no black and white here. But at this point idek if im wrong or right for feeling this way. I just want this episode to be over as soon as possible and over for once and all.

I AM JUST DONE. I CAN'T ANYMORE. I cant process anything anymore i cant tolerate all this dark weird aura im getting from everyone anymore (the irony is they seem to get it from me so uk its a loop)

I love these people. I just want everyone and everything to be okay and warm between us all. I am really putting my trust in time. I am tired. I want to talk it all out, let all my feelings and opinions and anger and disappointment and apologies and tears and everything out, to someone who'll get me. But at the risk of sounding cliche, no one will get me rn. Everybody will have a taunt to give, a comment to pass, subtly invalidating why im feeling this. I have no one to go to rn and its sad. Matlab i do have more friends but i cant talk about all this to anyone which makes it more frustrating.

*if by any chance you read it all out of curiosity, erase this from your memory, you didnt even see it okay?*

[gummy-friend]

I made this fic when I was feeling sad, It's not G/t, but I think it's neat.

Masterlist (If you want to read more of my writings)

Maybe

I don't have a title, but the notes app title was that sooooo

Cw for language, angst, and possible derealization. I do not know much about derealization, but the story contain Tommy waking up from a dream that feels too real. I'm sorry if it feels like I'm throwing that word around.

————

Tommy is dreaming

At least, he feels like he is. The world around him feels so... unreal.

The slow breeze that brushed his scarless skin, the smell of grass without the lingering smell of gunpowder, the sunshine that actually feels warm instead of stinging hot he always feel. It all feels so unreal.

And yet, it all feels so.. real. He's feeling those things

Tommy looked around. Seeing that he's in.. a village of some sorts. There's a yellow dirt path he usually see in villages, and there are snug houses here and there— Tommy saw a gigantic birdhouse of some sorts in the distance— and there's a sugar cane farm and various flowers sprouting.

Above all that, Tommy saw a.. floating island. There's a cute waterfall flowing into a stream of water attached to it. And a ladder. On the floating island, Tommy can see a faint building on it.

Tommy is dreaming.

He has to be, he has to be dreaming.

But why is the sensation of him climbing the ladder feels so real?

Even the exhaustion and the panting when he reached the top of the floating island feels real.

Is he dreaming?

Once again, Tommy looked around. It's a beautiful scenery from up there. He can see the flower field surrounding the island, the cute little houses littering here and there— and oh hey, it is a bird house. Just bigger and.. human sized? But other than that, he looked at the building. "Ye old pube" the sign on the door reads.

Tommy went in.

Again, Tommy is dreaming. He has to be.

If he's not, why's Ghostbur here?

"Oh hello Tommy, you're back" 'Ghostbur' said. In a voice that painfully resembles Wilbur's. That is not Ghostbur's voice. Ghostbur's voice was... lighter. Lighter and brighter and so full of happiness.

"Tommy..?" 'Ghostbur'— or is it Wilbur?— said. His body is transparent, much like a ghost. But he's not Ghostbur. Ghostbur is dead.

His vision blurred at the thought. Ghostbur is dead, he will not come back. This time, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Fuck— Tommy are you okay?" 'Ghostbur' said, tapping his shoulder. Tommy doesn't know if it's better for this 'Ghostbur' to have cold hands or not, but either way, Tommy's tears multiplied by his touch.

"I'm-" Tommy hiccuped "I miss you, Ghostbur"

At Tommy's word, 'Ghostbur' fell silent.

"...ghostbur?" he said "Who's... Ghostbur?"

Another hiccup from Tommy, his tears felt like they're stopping. No. No, it can't be, Ghostbur exists.

"Tommy, I'm Wilbur— I may look like a ghost, but I'm still Wilbu—"

"DON'T LIE!" The sudden shout shocked 'Wilbur'. He took a step backwards. "YOU- GHOSTBUR- YOU HATED BEING CALLED WILBUR- AND- And.." the tears stormed back. But this time, Tommy's knees felt weak.

"Tommy- I..." 'Wilbur' trailed off, fist clenched and unclenched, his eyes softened at Tommy's tears "What happened..?"

"Y-you.." another hiccup "Ghostbur... Ghostbur is dead. And now you're here..." Tommy trailed off. Honestly, he doesn't know if the "he" he's pointing at is for this 'Wilbur' or the... normal Wilbur "You're... you're going to... What are you going to do?"

For a moment 'Wilbur' fell silent.

"I'm- I was going to work with you. Work with you, Phil, and Ranboo, remember? The Crowfather agency?"

That was a stupid answer Tommy thought. A small laugh escaped his mouth through the hiccups. Crowfather Agency sounds dumb His thought continued, his hiccups are gone.

"That.. that sounds nice" Tommy sniffled. If this is the life he lived in another world, it'd be nice for the Tommy who lives here to have a nice life.. "..a life without wars"

"Wars..?" 'Wilbur' echoed, catching the small mutter that left Tommy's mouth. A soft sound that sounds so... painful.

"Wilbur, wouldn't it be nice? If everything is okay?" Tommy's wet vision looked up to ..Wilbur's worried expresion. "There's no wars, we can walk around without feeling like everyone hates you, sit around and just... look at the sunset and listen to music without.. without fearing the thing you faught so hard for isn't going to be stolen..?" another tear broke at Tommy's eyes. "And.... it'll be nice if you're okay"

"Tommy..." Wilbur trailed off. His eyes softens at the sight of Tommy. Slowly, Wilbur raised his arm, wrapping it around Tommy. "It's nice. Tommy, It's nice" Soft, reassuring taps was whispered to Tommy as Wilbur tightens his hug around him "I'm okay, Tommy"

Tommy is dreaming.

But it's a good dream.

It's a good dream where he can cling to Wilbur, not worrying if Wilbur would look down on him if he shows weakness.

It's a good dream where after he cried, Wilbur asked him to follow him to the building's rooftop. Passing a room with a "Innit Incorporated Office" written at the sign. Tommy let out a huff of concealed laughter at the sight.

It's a good dream where..

It's a good dream where he can see the sunrise. He can see the sunrise clearly. No craters or buildings to remind him of the painful experience. He can see the sunrise with a flower field and a forest beneath it.

It's a good dream.

"It's.. it's not a sunset, but I hope it's good enough for you to feel better" Tommy can hear Wilbur's voice from behind his awe. How long has it been since he paid attention to a sunrise?

Tommy held his breath.

It's a good...

"Wakey wakey." A small tap on Tommy's shoulder woke him. A small tap and another familiar voice.

Tommy opened his eyes slowly. Adjusting his vision to the light. A curly brown hair with streaks of white hair. A familiar smiling face that means business, a similar face he has just seen in his dream.

Tommy muttered out a single name. "Wilbur?"

Tommy was dreaming.

In his dream, he saw a world where everything is nice. He saw a world where Wilbur was nice.

But it's all in the past.

Including the dream.

[failedthetopikexam]

My Top Korean Resources [2020 edition]

I have been discussing resources with a few people on private message and have been thinking a bit about what resources were the best on my journey.... so here’s my final (maybe) compilation of resources for the year that will hopefully be helpful for anyone who is looking at resources between the beginners and upper intermediate levels.

NB. This list is based off materials I have used in the past and is not an exhaustive list of ALL the resources I have used - it is just a selection of some of my favourite. There are so many Korean resources out there so there might be some that work more for you that I haven’t even looked at.

Course Texts

In my opinion, the perfect course text isn’t going to teach you everything you need to know, but a good course text will at least give you a clear framework to chunk up and guide your studies. I have used a few but the most user friendly one is definitely:

Talk To Me In Korean - they set things out clearly so nothing feels overwhelming and provide a sensible framework to follow for self-study. Other course books tend to be better suited for in-class settings and not great for self-study.

Grammar

The course texts will teach you about grammar but I think they don’t teach you how the grammar structures are related to each other. So I think it is key to look at one or more of these books:

Korean Grammar In Use: Beginners

Korean Grammar In Use: Intermediate

The above series is incredible and a serious MUST for all Korean learners. They clearly and concisely set out the grammar points and show how they are all related to each other. There is an Advanced book as well which I have yet to use and will teach quite complex structures.

Basic Korean: A Grammar and Workbook (I have linked the forthcoming version being released in Dec 2020!)

Intermediate Korean: A Grammar and Workbook

The above Routledge series is great for its workbook feature. The layout is a little academic so it’s not super appealing but the way they explain grammar is clear and relatively detailed. The number of examples included in the workbook is fantastic, providing a lot of opportunity to practice. I haven’t used the Basic book but if it is anything like the Intermediate, it will be a winner.

Vocabulary

The part that people often miss out when learning Korean is vocabulary, because it can be so easy to just follow course texts and grammar books, but those will never teach enough words. To learn more vocab, it is really important to read around. There are so many Korean language books that you can pick up, but here are some books and resources that are catered specifically for language learners that I have loved:

Korean Culture in 100 Keywords - they give a paragraph on different cultural aspects of Korea in both Korean and English and highlight all the new vocabulary for you. The texts are graded from easy to more difficult.

News in Korean - lots of short news stories with translations in English and comprehension questions. Might be targeted more at intermediate learners

Mind Map TOPIK VOCA 2300 - this book sorts vocabulary into categories and shows them as mindmaps. It also gives readers sentences in context and has mini quizzes, HOWEVER it is written in 98% Korean so this is a book that is definitely more pitched at upper intermediate levels and above and teaches vocabulary that is a little less common 

Anki - my most used resource. Everyone has their own favourite for flashcards and this is mine. Anki do spaced repetition meaning that it will constantly test your knowledge on vocabulary, spacing the quizzes/tests depending on how difficult you find the word. It is more efficient than other flashcard platforms, but it is a little tricky to get started and create your own cards. If you want to download pre-made decks, you can, but this works best when you add the words you have learned yourself so that you get decks that are full of vocab that is relevant for you

Beelinguapp - This is an app that has some story books written in both Korean and English. It also has an audio function so you can listen to someone reading the stories in Korean. This is neat for pronunciation and listening, and also identifying new words, however the range of stories are limited.

Gloss - Gloss have a set of online lessons pitched at different levels which takes you through articles or texts (or audio and video), then asks a lot of comprehension questions. It follows a lesson format so it is far more engaging than your regular book, however it is a little on the difficult side.

[EXTRA] Your First Hanja Guide - you might not want to learn vocabulary this way and it is absolutely NOT an essential, but for me it is helpful to visualise the Hanja character when seeing the relationship between words, so if you like learning words like that, then this is the book for you

Listening / Watching

Like with reading, there are multiple resources that you can use to listen to native Korean, but here are some that are specifically targeted at learners

여보세요 - this app/website has a few short video clips and goes through slowly to examine the meaning and new words, then has a number of test quizzes through multiple choice or through speaking (via microphone). There are different clips graded by levels and the app tracks your progress and gives progress reports.

Real Life Korean Conversations: Beginners / Intermediate - this IS a book, but it is best used in conjunction with the audio files. The book gives the script, as well as the vocabulary, and also looks at key grammar points and structures used in the conversations

Speaking

There aren’t many resources that I find great for self-studying speaking - generally you need someone else to do that with you, but here is one that I thought was quite neat:

Teuida - I just did a very quick run through this app as it is definitely pitched at beginners, but I thought that it was a smart way of learning some basic conversational Korean. It teaches you phrases and you have to repeat them back through the microphone feedback function. Then to test your retention, they take you through a mock situation and you have to speak your answers - there is quite a strong focus on getting pronunciation correct. My biggest downsides of this app are that the free sections are really limited, AND they seem to have geared the lessons towards the idea of dating, which I just find so awkward and embarrassing hahaha!

Writing

I’m in the market to buy some writing books and have my eye on some but am waiting until I have the time to work on them, but this book is quite neat for learning different sentence structures and how to construct meaningful answers:

Korean Q&A Sentence Patterns - this book poses a question and looks at different ways of answering it. It also shows variations of the question, then examines form. It gives an example long answer and prompts you to think about how to construct your own response using the grammar and vocabulary given

[b-lessings]

Hello sister, I recently converted to Islam and I just want to say how much I appreciate your presence on tumblr. It has really helped me a lot with my journey. You are such a beautiful person and thank you so much for your posts and reminders! Also if you have any tips or recommendations in regards to memorizing the Quran and being a better muslismah I would super appreciate it! I am still trying to figure everything out 😅😅😅

😶😶.

* speechless *

Assalamualaikum sister!

First of all, Ma Shaa Allah, la quwata illa billah, Allahuma barik lakii 🥺🤍🤍🤍🌼 congrats on converting and welcome HOME sis! May the highest ranks of Jannah be written for you, ameen. 🍃

Second of all, I feel so humbled by your words I don't know what to say except for Alhamdulillah. I am just over here tumblring my way thru life, learning as I go while there are great blogs on here with amazing rich and heavy Islamic content, sübhanallah. I don't even claim the knowledge I share. I am a very emotional personal and I do see religion from a very personal and subjective perspective that probably lots of people don't agree with or at least frown upon, and I know what they'll say : You need to take knowledge from an established scholar. True. But I believe more in connecting with people, being inspired by their personal stories, and how they flawedly and humanly make their way and walk their journey thru this beautiful religion ❤️ So for you to actually say that those precious words, it actually means one thing, that Allah swt is in shaa Allah pleased with me because He swt has heard my prayers of making my journey on tumblr beneficial to me and to others, and to make me help others by the means of this blog. So, Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah.

اللهم لك الحمد حتى ترضى ولك الحمد إذا رضيت ولك الحمد بعد الرضا

Now about the last part of your ask, concerning tips to memorize the Quran, I would give you my personal favorite: write the ayat that you want to memorize on a piece of paper big enough to show them clearly and hang them on the wall in your prayer corner in your room, then start reading them in your salat frequently. You can also write them down in a small notebook and carry it around, or have the Quran app on your phone and whenever you have some free time, you are using transportation or commuting, just pull your phone and read them over and over.. and of course listening to a recitation often or on repeat helps. That way you can learn the surat or ayat with the proper pronunciation and tajweed. But also there are programs and camps for memorizing the Quran if you wanna go the more organized official way 😅 I definitely encourage you to do so. Learning with a group could be very motivating. Also, if you are the type of person who is more productive and reaches their goals better with deadlines and guidelines and teachers/ supervisors checking on them, then that's definitely what you should do.

Oh but I almost forgot the most important thing. Before any step, you should make duāa to Allah swt that He eases this journey of memorizing the Quran for you.

" اللهمّ علمني القرآن وانفعني بالقرآن وارفعني بالقرآن "

Allahuma ālemnee Al Qur'an wa 'nfaānee bil Qur'an wa 'rfaānee bil Qur'an

My lord, teach me the Quran, and benefit me with the Quran, and elevate me with the Quran"

Allahuma ameen. May Allah swt accept it from you and all of us 🤍

Oh, also, try listening to khutbahs and lectures about the stories or the explanations of the chapters that you want to memorize. It will help remember what happens in that Surah. Kheir In shaa Allah. I am extremely proud of you, Allahuma barik.

Last but not least, I have only one tip on how to be a good muslimah sis, just be yourself. Stay true to yourself and to your gut feeling and always listen to your heart. Beware of being dragged into any side unconsciously. Always take a step back to check with yourself and evaluate the situation, think critically because our religion is actually about being critical and about thinking. Also, don't force yourself. Don't compare your first pages to someone's third or fourth book. Take it one step at a time, one thing at a time so that you don't find yourself exhausted and burnt out in no time. This religion is about quality not quantity. And the most loved/ preferred deeds to Allah swt are those that are consistent no matter how small. So, consistency, patience and persistence are your best friends in shaa Allah.

Moreover, it is very important that you be patient with yourself, and that you have unlimited endless infinite husn dhan (good intentions/ positive thinking) in Allah swt. Because you are gonna mess up, sooner or later, we all do, on daily basis, sübhanallah, that's human nature, and you are gonna feel tired at some points, and you are gonna feel desperate (but that's on the devil because a good believer should never feel despair, they should believe that Allah's mercy and grace is beyond any and everything.) So yeah, back to my point, even in those times where you might feel like you messed up and that it was bad and that maybe you are not worthy of Allah's mercy and forgiveness, KNOW that it's not true, and that's only the devil tricking you. So no matter what, always find your way back to Allah swt who swt will be waiting for you with kindness, mercy, grace, generosity, and reward 🤍🤍

The prophet Muhammad salla allahu alaihi wa sallam said “All the sons of Adam are sinners, but the best of sinners are those who repent often.” Related by At·Tirmidhi and Ibn Majah , so no matter what happens and no matter how hard it gets, KNOW that Allah's doors are always open.

I feel like I gave more than the one tip I said I'd give at the beginning of this thought 😅 But I do always get carried away. I still have some super special tips but I feel like the world is not ready for them yet, so maybe some day in the near future 🙈

And my dear sister, a final word for you: we are all still trying to figure it out I promise you. Nobody is perfect. Perfection was not meant for this worldly ending life. It was saved for the hereafter. So, please don't feel intimidated by anyone, be patient with yourself, and never lose hope in Allah's capability. I pray that Allah swt eases your path and blesses every step you make towards Him. And I pray that you find the confidence you need and that you fall inn love with yourself in this religion more and more everyday, ameen 🤍

I am here if you need anything, in shaa Allah I will be able to help.

Fi amanillah (I leave you in Allah's safety) 🤍

Salaam.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.I (Rewritten Barista)

As promised, I’m working through finishing my unfinished series - and that includes the Barista AU I had written long ago. I decided it was best to rewrite it considering the first part was originally published 200+ days ago. I’m aiming for 3 parts for this “one-shot AU” but we’ll see where it goes. Please be patient with me - my academic course load is extremely heavy and finding time to write is difficult but I will finish everything I said I would. I’m actually pretty proud of this but if it flops I never wrote it :) 

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 4505 words I’m shocked (I usually get to about 1600-2000 words) 

Taglist: I’m not tagging anyone until I know people want to be tagged for this because I’m nervous and I hate being annoying!!!! If you want to be tagged for a specific pairing please let me know - I’ll try to keep track and remember to actually tag because I’m a forgetful dumbass!

Amy groggily rolled over in her bed, the amount of sleep she was getting had become oddly suspicious because she would never be able to get up before 7 on her own. She rubbed her face gently, her sheets warm and smooth against her skin. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her eyes widening in shock as she read the time on the screen.  

Monday March 30 5:40 am

“Fucking hell I thought I set an alarm!” Amy groaned as she threw the sheets to the side, huffing as she opened the clock app to see, she in fact, did not set an alarm. She sighed, shaking her head as she rushed to the bathroom. 

“Damn it Amy...you need this job…” 

She texted Zig, a mutual friend of Emily Day who introduced them their freshman year of college at Hartfeld before Amy had transferred to Belviore University in New York. Zig graduated and moved to New York and opened a small cafe, only a few years later. 

Zig, I’m going to be late. I missed my alarm this morning. I swear I’ll stay for closing and I won’t be late tomorrow. 

LMAO, Amy if you didn’t set an alarm just say that, I had a feeling this would happen so I told you we opened an hour before we actually do. We don’t open until 7 on Mondays, just Tuesdays-Fridays. 

I am literally going to murder you 0_0. You should prepare to be launched into outer space for this crime. 

Lol I look forward to it - see you at 7. 

Amy turned on the shower, as she grabbed a towel and her shower products from the cabinet, placing them beside the shower door. She discarded her clothes, put her shower playlist on, hopped into the shower and felt a wave of relief that she didn’t blow her first day. After Amy had performed her world tour, she stepped out of the shower with a shiver, the cool air a contrast to her very hot skin. She wrapped herself in the fuzzy towel, briefly glancing at the time, 6:02. She walked out of the bathroom, dropping the towel onto the floor as she opened her closet while she scanned her options for a “casual” outfit that would suffice. She put on her favorite bra and underwear, something about the red lingerie made her feel confident, before she slipped into a pair of dark blue denim skinny jeans. She paired the pants with a black t-shirt as she smiled at herself in the mirror. 

“Not bad Amy, not bad at all.” 

She walked over to her small vanity, one she had built with her father as a teenager over the summer before she left for college. It was one of her most prized possessions, one of the only things she had to remind her of him before he disappeared without a trace. She closed her eyes, recalling the memory fondly before she began to apply a small amount of makeup, just enough to hide her tiredness from the public. She stood from the desk, pleased with her appearance as she made her way to the small apartment kitchen. The empty beer bottles and ps4 controllers cluttered the kitchen as Amy smiled, having remembered celebrating the job with her suitemate Lily. She threw the bottles away and plugged the remotes in for a charge, Lily would thank her for that later. She opened the freezer, making herself two premade waffles as she checked her social media. It might have partially been the exhaustion but those waffles were the best Amy ever had, she wiped her mouth clean and grabbed her bag from the nearby chair. She shot a brief text to Lily, to let her know she hadn’t been kidnapped.

Morning Lily! I went to the cafe for work, just so you don’t end up thinking I got myself kidnapped. Love you, see you tonight! Try not to drink all of the alcohol. 

Amy followed Zig’s text directions through the streets of the city, the bustle of traffic, the mass of pedestrians and the loud construction noises distracting Amy from her path. Amy had never really been in New York’s financial district before, the other civilians' appearances shifting from “Naked Cowboy of Times Square” to “Businessman” only a few streets apart. She glanced at her phone as it instructed her to take a right.

“Oof-” 

Amy jolted at the scalding hot coffee that was hot on her skin, her head turning to meet a woman’s irritated gaze, taking note of the coffee cup that was in her hands. She was dressed like all the other businessmen and women who passed by - her maroon suit now covered in coffee as she huffed in annoyance. Amy met her deep brown eyes that burned right through her, her whole body freezing up as she watched the woman’s lips move. Amy stood in a daze, only coming back to herself when the woman waved her hand in front of her, her face filled with exasperation. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s my first day and I’m kind of lost-”

“Watch where you’re going, this suit is probably worth more than you.” Her voice was silky and satisfying, and oddly soothing given the fact she had probably just stained a $2,000 suit. Amy rushed to open her wallet, holding out a wet 50$ to the woman. The business woman scoffed as she walked away, leaving Amy in a confused state outside of the cafe. 

“Fuck.” Amy sighed, moving to collect her bag as she walked through the cafe door, Zig raised his eyebrows at her as she made her way behind the counter. 

“Well that’s a look.” He jested, Amy turning her head and giving him a death glare as he tossed an apron to her. “Nobody will notice, you can cover it with this. There’s paper towels in the back.” Amy dropped her bag in the break room, gently wiping the coffee away and putting the surprisingly fashionable apron on. When she walked out from the back her jaw dropped as she spotted the woman from earlier standing on the other side of the counter. Their eyes met and the woman’s gaze quickly changed from annoyed to very annoyed at the sight of Amy. 

“Kamilah, you’re back. Wanted to pick up some date-nut pinwheels?” 

“No, I need another black coffee.” She turned back to Zig with a smile, he gave a small nod as Amy began to brew the coffee for her. She placed the lid carefully onto the fresh cup and handed it out to the woman, their fingers brushing for a moment, a blush creeping onto Amy’s cheeks. 

“Thank you.” Her tone was less aggressive than it had been in their first encounter, Amy finally calm enough to take note of the woman’s features. Her brown silky hair that looked like it belonged in a conditioner commercial, her defined jawline and subtle eyeshadow that accentuated her eyes. She watched the way her lips moved as she talked to Zig, Amy feeling her heart jump at the sound of her laugh - light and golden. Amy watched her leave, every step she took she took with such confidence that Amy found herself wanting to follow her out the door. 

“You could be less obvious, you know?” Zig playfully nudged Amy, nearly knocking her over as she shook her head in denial.

“No! I wasn’t!” Amy sighed as she rubbed her temples, Zig’s infectious laugh filling the empty cafe. Amy playfully punched his shoulder as a group of well dressed men stepped through the threshold, Amy moving behind the register to take their orders. The day passed, Amy learning how oddly specific some people like their coffee, and learning all of Zig’s secrets to the perfect iced coffee. Amy looked at the clock as Zig walked to lock the front door - finally closing time. 

“Some of these orders...like ‘I’ll have the grande iced mocha no foam soy hexagon vortex hypotenuse’” Amy waved her hands around as Zig tried to contain a laugh, wiping down the counter as Amy hung her apron up.

“Amy you’re horrible.” Zig made a good attempt at seriousness, their eyes meeting before they continued to laugh which made closing pass by much faster. Zig grabbed the mass of leftover desserts from their respective containers, hovering them over the garbage before Amy stopped him.

“Oh, did you want these?” 

“No, but I can find a better place for them than the trash.” 

“Where? Your stomach?”

“No, the food bank is on the route back to my apartment. We shouldn’t be wasteful, and besides - who wouldn’t love a raspberry crown?” 

“You’ve got a point. I’ll bag these for you then, if you could sweep the floor and put the chairs on the tables that’d be great.” 

When all the cleaning and closing procedures were done Amy headed for the door with her bag in hand, Zig gently tapping her shoulder and holding out an envelope, a key to the cafe and the bag of desserts.

“Okay so I know what’s in here but what is this? A resignation letter?” Amy pouted her bottom lip as Zig rolled his eyes so far back Amy wasn’t sure if they’d come back.

“It’s your share of the tips from today, and the wrapped pastries. Thanks for that suggestion by the way, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.” Zig rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around the pristine cafe, the windows reflecting the moonlight and the tile shimmering as if it were just installed. “Bloody hell, the place looks good...no great. Thank you Amy. Come on let's get outta here, go home - I’ll see you tomorrow at 6. Actually, let me make sure you set 3 different alarms, give me your phone.” Zig held out his hand after he locked the front door, Amy reluctantly handing her iphone over as he set 3 different alarms, all 5 minutes apart. He looked up at her for a moment, smirking before handing her phone back to her and walking off into the city. Amy rolled her eyes, he probably took a selfie on her camera but when she went to check, there was nothing but memes and occasional group photos -what did Zig smirk at then? Amy was too tired to think of it, she made a swift beeline to the food bank, opening the doors and dropping the brown bag of desserts off before making her trip back to the apartment. 

The door opened with a creak, all of the lights turned off as Amy carefully navigated to her room. She switched her lamp on, letting it provide a dim light that didn’t blind Amy because of its intensity. She tossed her bag onto the bed, as she pulled her shirt over her head in one rapid motion. She desperately stripped, throwing her dirty clothes into the laundry basket as she changed into clean lingerie. She slipped into her favorite pair of pajama shorts and pulling her favorite hoodie over her bra - shirts were overrated anyways. Amy crawled onto her bed, crossing her legs while she put her headphones on, pulling up her favorite late-night playlist and letting the slowed music soothe her. She caught a glance at the envelope Zig had given her, she reached over for it and opened it carefully - baffled at the amount of cash laying inside. She slowly laid each bill out, counting the total twice to make sure she hadn’t miscalculated. Working at a cafe in New York’s financial district was definitely going to help her and Lily catch up on their rent and not get evicted. She smiled, tucking away 25% for herself, taking enough for her share of the rent and putting the rest into her locked safe - she’d been saving for a trip to Hawaii since she graduated. She stifled a yawn, closing the safe and tucking herself back into her warm sheets, taking her headphones off and closing her eyes for the night. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The alarm woke Amy up with it’s loud and very obnoxious beeping, Amy wanting nothing more than to throw the phone into the thermosphere. She drowsily stood from her bed, gently tucking the sheets neatly back into place as she turned off the following alarms. She sighed, rubbing her head as she changed into a simple outfit and left out the door to the cafe.

Amy arrived at the cafe, unlocked the front door and turned the lights on, relocking the door behind her because she didn’t need anyone startling her. She moved behind the counter, dropping her bag in the lounge and putting an apron on. She checked the coffee filters, gave the blenders a good washing, set out creamer, sugar and other coffee essentials on the counter and filled supplies back up. Zig suddenly walked through the door, a smile on his face as Amy finished supplying the countertop and putting the pastries out on display, letting Zig prepare himself for opening. 

“You’re early. I’m shocked. College Amy is having a stroke right now.” Amy knocked him in the side, Zig falling back a few steps as he shook his head and put his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright alright no need for violence, come on, let’s open.” Zig turned the “open” sign on and only a minute later did Kamilah appear in the cafe, her suit perfectly fitted, her hair smoothly cascading around her head and down her shoulders and her face relaxed and composed. 

“Good morning Kamilah, what can I get for you?” Zig gestured to the display of desserts and the variety of coffee combinations on the menu above their heads. Kamilah smiling as Zig waved his hands back and forth, Kamilah letting out a soft chuckle. 

“Just a large black coffee and maybe a date-nut pinwheel.” Kamilah spoke to Zig in almost a tender way, as if they were siblings or long-term friends. Amy selected a pinwheel, gently placing it into a small bag and sliding it over the counter towards Kamilah as she began to brew the coffee. 

“How’s Ahmanet Financial?” Zig leaned over the counter, his defined arms nearly breaking through the sleeves of his white shirt. Kamilah tucked the pinwheel bag into a hidden pocket on the inside of her blazer before she turned back to face Zig.

“It’s very successful, our stocks are soaring and we just secured a new business partner.” Kamilah looked proud and for good reason - Ahmanet financial was one of the most powerful corporations out there. Amy topped her coffee off with a lid and handed it to her, their eyes meeting for a moment before Amy turned away, feeling her cheeks turning hot. Kamilah checked her watch, a movado 47 rose gold watch that cost way more than anything Amy had ever come close to owning. “Zig I’d love to chat some other day but I’m afraid I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

She quickly made her way out the door, the bell ringing softly as Kamilah strided away. Amy leaned over the counter with a sigh, Zig nudging her softly. 

“You could be less obvious Amy,” his annoying face smirking at Amy as she rolled her eyes, “you used to be so slick back in college.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Amy threw an empty coffee cup at him as a blonde girl walked into the cafe, her eyes glued to her phone as she recited her order at a rate that nobody could understand. Amy sighed, Zig giving her a pained glance as she went to mix the complicated coffee order. Amy fought back a laugh as Zig found a way to run away to the back when the girl asked for his phone number. Once Amy finished mixing her coffee and sent her out the cafe doors Zig poked his head out of the lounge - his eyes scanning for her.

“Is she gone?” Amy snorted as Zig stepped out from the doorway, his hands running through his hair as he let his shoulders relax. “My god I hate teenagers - they turn eighteen and all of a sudden think they can fuck anyone. I’m like 5 years older than her at least!” 

“Relax buddy, let’s just get through the rest of the day. I’ll handle all the teenage brats and you can handle all the nasty men.” Amy gave him a cheeky grin as they teamwork-ed their way through the rest of the day.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Finally.” Amy rested the broom on the wall, taking in the pristine cafe as Zig finished wiping down the counters. “What a day.” 

“Thank god it’s over.” 

“Zig?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Kamilah always come by the cafe right when we open?”

Zig perked his head up, his brows raised to the top of his head as Amy felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her hands growing sweaty as Zig remained silent. 

“She always comes as soon as we open, she has to be at work early since she is the CEO. Although she never rests, despite everything I’ve told her.” Zig’s head shot to his phone as it buzzed, a text from Emily appearing on the screen and Zig hastily typed away.

“Everything okay Zig?” Amy had a worried expression on her face as Zig let out a long sigh. 

“There’s a road trip for Kaitlyn’s band that leaves in two days that lasts for a week that our group is going on and I can’t go because I need to run the cafe-”

“I can handle it for a week.” Amy spoke firmly, Zig’s eyes widening before he let out a chuckle.

“What if you burn it down?”

“I won’t but then I guess you just have to trust me. Come on Zig - you need a break and you damn well know it. Get out of here for a week.”

“I hate that you’re right. Fine, but if the cafe isn’t standing when I get back, you’re toast.” They both laughed and finished up closing. 

Amy walked towards the food bank, a brisk breeze prompting her to make it one speedy trip so she could bask in her heated apartment. A shriek came from the alley as Amy turned her gaze to see where the yell had come from, a red pair of eyes looking right at her in the darkness. She felt her heart beating out of her chest as she forced her feet to a run, her heart pounding like a drum and ringing in her ears as she huffed through the front doors of the bank - placing the bag on the counter and racing back to her apartment without turning back. 

“Hey girl how was-” Lily sat on the couch with a coke in her hand and the television remote in the other, her smile fading as she met Amy’s eyes. “Amy, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost…”

“I think I’m just hallucinating from exhaustion,” Amy dropped her bag on the floor and took a seat on the couch beside Lily, “anyways tell me about you. We haven’t really had time since we both started working more.”

“Well you should sleep soon but I think we’ll be able to hold the rent for the next few months - with all the money you’re bringing in now in addition to the money my app has started to bring in - I think we’ll be more than fine.” Lily nudged her shoulder, offering Amy a can of coke with a smile as The Vampire Diaries played on the TV. 

“Vampires are so overrated.” Amy groaned as she watched Lily’s eyes become glued to the screen.

“Some of us have taste you know.”

“No, it’s because they’re not real Lily, and the fact that no vampire would ever be attracted to me.” 

Lily rolled her eyes as Amy sipped on her coke, both of them laughing late into the night and being good friends in what had felt like a long time. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy unlocked the cafe doors and shuffled inside, locking the door behind her and leaving her bag on the counter. She hit the light switch as the lights slowly came flickering on as she tied the apron around the back of her neck. She quickly started and finished the morning set-up, the routine becoming second nature since Amy had always been a fast learner. She checked her phone, 6:49 am April 1, 2020. 

“April fools day.” Amy smiled as she contemplated setting up a whipped cream prank on Zig, but decided not to against her deepest desire to see his shocked face. While thinking of ways to mess with Zig through the day, her mind came to test a theory - she began preparing two black coffees - before adding her own twists to one of them. Amy finished and admired her handiwork - the cups looked identical and Kamilah wouldn’t notice until she tasted it. 

Kamilah walked in, her eyes scanning the cafe for Zig as she took a cautious step towards Amy who had a cute little grin on her face.

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee.” Amy handed her a black coffee, the one she had adjusted ever so slightly. She watched as Kamilah brought the cup to her lips, almost taking a sip, before she lowered the cup and leaned her face closer to Amy. 

“What did you do to it? It smells different, and where’s Zig?” Kamilah arched a brow as Amy silently wondered how Kamilah could smell the difference.

“I took a twist with it, I made you your regular too in case you hate it...I just thought you should broaden your horizons…and Zig is coming. He just needs to pack, he’ll be gone after today for a week and I’ll be running the cafe.” Amy smiled softly at the woman who was now leaning dangerously close. 

“I see. And if I hate it?”

“Then I’ll pay for both and I’ll never try to broaden your horizons again…” Amy frowned slightly as Kamilah finally sipped on the drink - her brown eyes widening as she took another, and another.

“It’s...actually pretty good...what did you do to it?” Kamilah took another sip as Amy bounced on her heels, a wide childish grin written across her face. 

“I added a bit of cream and sugar and a bit of caramel! It’s how I like mine!” Amy took her hands behind her back and fiddled with them nervously as Kamilah smiled. Zig walked in just as the clock read 8:05 am and Kamilah left, turning at the door to smile at Amy one last time, lifting the cup up with a smile before entering her car. 

“What’s that smile about Amy?” Zig wagged his fingers at Amy with a classic smirk as he prepared for the shift, Amy resting her head on both of her hands while she leaned over the counter - her legs kicking out behind her. 

“Nothing.” Amy sighed and went back to brewing coffee, her hands aimlessly performing while her mind sat on nothing but the thought of Kamilah - and her damned perfect smile. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy tossed her shoes off as she made her way through the apartment door, one shoe nearly knocking Lily’s head off as she pulled freshly fried chicken from the air fryer. 

“Lily that smells AMAZING!” Amy squealed and made her way over to her, Lily slapping her hand away as she finished the two plates of waffles off with a chicken breast and syrup. “I swear I’ve got the best best friend…” Lily smiled as they both dug into the food, chatting away about their day until Amy let it slip out.

“And there’s this really hot customer-”

“Oh! Spill!” Lily wiggled in her seat like a child, eagerly waiting for Amy to elaborate as Amy stuffed her face with the rest of her waffles. “I’ll wait for you to finish.” Lily smirked and held Amy in an uncomfortable eye contact until Amy finally caved in. 

“She comes in at opening time every single day, and always orders a black coffee. Although I got her to try something new today which I’m really proud of.” The subtle smile that crept up Amy’s face gave it all away to Lily as she let her ramble on, whilst she gave Amy the smirk she hated. “I’m simping aren’t I?”

“There’s nothing wrong with simping. But you have a chance here because Zig won’t be there so you can actually like...take your shot without him ever having to know,” Lily winked and whispered, “and you could totally fuck her in the back-”

“NOPE!” Amy stood up frantically, Lily holding her sides for support and nearly falling out of her chair as Amy rushed to clear her plate. “I hate you! Ohmygoddddddd.” Amy groaned as Lily fell to the floor, her eyes wet with tears at Amy’s reaction more than anything else.

“I’m going to bed!!” 

“Goodnight! Love you Ames!!!”

“Love you too….annoying ass!” 

Amy snorted as she changed into her sleepwear, her body becoming exhausted as she hit the mattress, falling asleep ridiculously fast. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Kamilah came through the door, right on time as Amy had come to expect. Amy gazed up from her phone, those dark brown eyes looking right at her as she handed Kamilah her usual black coffee, Kamilah holding it closely before clearing her throat. 

“Can I have the one from yesterday as well?” Amy smiled at her as she began to mix her favorite coffee - Kamilah leaning over the counter to observe. 

“I didn’t think you’d want it again.” Amy said as she added creamer to the mix, the coffee turning golden as she mixed it. 

“A woman can’t appreciate a little variety in her life?” Kamilah leaned against the counter, her hair smoothly gliding over her maroon blazer as she tossed it back - taking a sip from her cup.

“No I just-” Amy topped the cup off with a bit of caramel before enclosing it with the lid, her hands sweaty as she handed it to Kamilah. 

“You just?”

“Thought you’d always like your coffee like your personality.” 

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

The way Kamilah was looking at Amy, she knew she had to choose her next words carefully. 

“Dark, intimidating, a bit bitter at first sip,” Amy hesitated as Kamilah raised a brow, “an...acquired taste.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” 

“Just a little…”

“Hmm, I suppose your coffee is like you if you want to expand your little analogy.” Kamilah glanced at her watch, her expression shifting from playful to work-oriented. Amy felt her heart drop a little as she recomposed herself - back to her refined and disciplined self. Kamilah made her way to the door, the two cups of coffee in her hands as she paused, turning back and looking at Amy - something different about it.

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

[moondustaeil]

⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : a thunderstorm-filled night with mark : fluff

⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : mark x reader

⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1.1k

Right when the weather forecast is about to reveal tonight's stormy weather, the television screen goes black. The weather broadcaster is no longer explaining in the monotone voice, neither is he pointing at a card that you don't bother reading. Your fingers blindly reach out to grasp the remote, and as soon as the black zapper is clenched between your fist, you press the first button your finger rests on.

Nothing. Not a pixel of the screen that changes the black shade into a colour. The screen stays black like it's never been something else, and the sound is nonexistent like it doesn't even have a sound function. Thinking Mark is the culprit -because he knows how anxious you get over stormy weather- you turn your body towards him.

"Why did you do that?" You ask. You forget how you are the one possessing of the remote control, neither do you see the confused look written all over his face. You simply blame him because he knows your fear of thunderstorms: he's your biggest saviour in them and now you're accusing him of preventing you from being scared.

Mark turns his attention from the nonfunctional television to you, his eyes appearing slightly softer but still as confused. Your words confuse him even more than the television does, but he knows that he needs to puzzle those together. "I didn't," he protests lightly, his hands moving up in defence.

Your eyelids narrow, revealing less of your intense irises even though you look slightly more intimidating now. "You didn't turn off the television?" You ask him. It's a serious question because who else could have turned the television off, you didn't as your hand wasn't on the remote before, and Mark had been too far away to be able to reach it.

"I swear I didn't. I was sitting here!" This time Mark's defence is more intense, getting annoyed that you accuse him of something he didn't do. It takes him a second to realise why both of you are getting so worked up over it: you are afraid of thunderstorms and he is the one who will always hold you close through the thunder-filled nights. To give a closeup of how those nights are: they are pretty much sleepless.

To give an example of how storm-filled nights pass: the two of you usually collect everything important in a bag and place it in a corner in case you would need to flee from the apartment and the two of you sleep on top of the sheets, cuddled in one another's arms. You see every hour of the clock: one, two, three, four, five o'clock. Not to forget all of the minutes between those hours.

Tonight will be no different to that example, even though you still hope you will be able to sleep a little bit between the rumbles of thunder and the flashes of lightning. The stress from the thunderstorm combined with the exhaustion the day after does you no well.

"Okay, I believe you," you nod. You believe Mark as he says the words but that does take away the explanation you had for the sudden standby of the television. Mark sits up properly and grasps his phone from the coffee table "I'll just check the weather like this, don't worry," he says as he unlocks the device. Though after going to the weather app, he realises that even the app doesn't give him any updates.

"I guess the power went off already," He concludes, seeing that his wifi signal is completely gone. And having no electricity also explains why it's suddenly a hue darker in the room, the table lamp in the corner is turned off too. You stand up and spin around the room: no television, no table lamp, no sound of the washing machine doing the laundry. That the electricity went off could only mean one thing: the thunderstorm was close.

Upon Mark's request, you find yourself in bed earlier than expected. It's been around ten minutes since you were robbed of electricity and the thunderstorm had presented itself half of those minutes ago. Droplets of rain layer over the sound of the thunderstorm, though it's not as calming as ASMR always makes it out to be. They hit the window rapidly, almost in sync with the rapid beat of your heart.

It's Mark who wraps his fingers around your left shoulder and gently pulls you to lie next to him, on top of the sheets that cover the mattress. Sometimes you're a mess tangled in the sheets, but during the thunderstorms, you can be a mess without them. "Let's try to rest a bit before it gets worse. If we manage to fall asleep now, we might sleep through it," Mark reasons softly. His voice soothes you, alluring you into the idea of closing your eyes to sleep.

You hum in thought, pondering about the idea, but your idea is surely not as ideal as his. As ideal as an idea can get in this situation, that is. "Just close your eyes, love," Mark whispers as he notices your tense appearance: your legs tensed like they're ready for a marathon, your eyes widely opened and staring in direction of the window.

Against your will, your body responds to his words. Your eyes are closed before you can force them into staying open, though the rest of your body stays tensed up when a new rumble of thunder erupts from above.

To soothe the fear that fuels the tense muscles, Mark wraps both of his arms around you and pulls you onto his side of the bed carefully. His arms stay around your waist, holding you as close as he can, even though one hand slowly makes its way to your arm. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he brushes over your arm gently, tracing curved lines and meaningful figures.

"It will be over in a few hours. Think of thunderstorms like my heartbeat," Mark whispers in your ear. His forehead is rested against the side of your head, whispering the self-made quote into your ear so that you momentarily forget the rumbling outside the window. "Just like thunderstorms rumble for nature, my heartbeat beats for you."

His words lull you away from the negative thunderstorms, instead, your ears can only imagine the rumbles as the beats of his heart. A sound that you've heard so many times, you can almost imagine it even in a music-filled room. Whenever the thunder doesn't rumble, your mind fills in the blank moments with the beating sound.

Minutes pass and so does the thunderstorm. But your eyes are still closed and so are Mark's, peacefully asleep through the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning. Mark's arms are still wrapped around your body: he feels like he's embracing the sun which is you, and you're embraced by the moon shining from a clear sky.

💌 send me a member (nct/tbz/too) + an au/genre and I'll write you a drabble or some soft hours

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not.