#which is amazing because wow writers block hit me hard this past few days

[aro-aizawa]

new tactic: if im stuck on the last bit of bhaf of a chapter, im gonna write it out again to upload it and hope that inspiration will spark

[louiseleblancdiggory]

hey, once in twitter we talk about how much we love Castle, so i was thinking if you could write a rowaelin scene based on caskett ♥️

OI GIO!!!!!! Ok so I had so much fun writing this. I decided to start from the very beginning so everyone (even those who didn’t watch it) know what’s going on. If you never watched Castle, you MUST!!! Also, fyi, the warnings are NOT about Ro or Aelin, they are absolutely fine in here. No sad shit, I promise

Warnings: mentions of graphic death

Gone death

--

Aelin winked at the red headed man in front of her, a grin plastered on her lips.

She handed him back the book, waving off his thank you as he scrunched away to enjoy the rest of the party. She looked around, half paying attention to the hundreds of people who had come to the release of her latest book.

Since Aelin was a seven, she had had a deep fascination with mystery and horror. Thankfully, she was also a fucking amazing writer, which allowed her to transform that fascination into her job. Now, twenty six years later, Aelin was the bestseller author of several stand alone as well as a series of eight books, all of them following the same two main characters while they investigated a series of gruesome murders. She had loved the series, had started writing them at fifteen and published the first one at twenty five. She thought she could write about Sam and Lyria forever.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Aelin felt a hand gripping her elbow, and had to hold in her sigh as she turned around to stare at her ex husband.

One of Aelin’s biggest regrets in life was marrying so early. Chaol had been her college boyfriend, and they got married few months after they started dating. Looking back now, Aelin could see how stupid she had been, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. They got a divorce less than a year later, and Aelin would have been happy in never looking at him again. Unfortunately, he worked with her publishing team, and if she added that to their past together, she could almost understand why Chaol always felt so entitled to know and control everything in her life.

It was fucking distressing and annoying.

“If it’s not my money sucking ex husband. What did I do this time?”

He had a fake smile on his lips, looking at her as if he didn’t dislike her. “You killed your golden goose, Galathynius. You fucking killed your main characters.”

Aelin shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine. “It was time.” She started walking away, and had to hide her scowl when she realized Chaol was following her.

Some people couldn’t get the fucking hint, could they?

“Why would you do that? Sam and Lyria were making you filthy rich, and everyone loved them.”

“They got boring, that’s why.” Aelin stopped in her tracks, turning back to Chaol. She crossed her arms, raising her chin. “Writing The Guild used to be fun, used to be exciting. Writing Sam used to be interesting, but since the seventh book it has just been work. I don’t write for money, Chaol. I write because I love it. When I stopped loving it, I decided it was time to move on from them.”

“Wow, and God forbid you ever have to actually work like an adult, right?”

“It. Was. Time. Besides, Sam and Lyria are not the golden goose, I am.”

She said the words loud and clear, ignoring the frown on his face. Aelin always knew that Chaol saw her writing more as a job than as a passion, and it pissed her off endlessly. She turned around again, walking to the bar where her cousin and son were sitting. Her heels clinked against the marble floor, and the sound was almost loud enough to hide the fact that Chaol was following her. Again.

She sighed loudly as he began speaking. “You could have made them retire, could have made them get married and leave the force. Hell, you could have made them join the goddamn circus. But no, Aelin Galathynius must be dramatic and put two bullets on her main characters’ heads.” When she ignored him, he just kept talking. “What the hell are you going to do now, Aelin? You permanently ended The Guild with your stupidity, and we both know you don’t have any other ideas.”

At that, Aelin spun on her heels, clenching her fists to stop herself from physically attacking Chaol. The photographers would love seeing her getting into a brawl, and most of the rest of the party would probably find it immensely entertaining. Lysandra, however, wouldn’t find it so amusing. Her PR and best friend loved some mischief, but she also worked hard enough to make sure Aelin’s public image was a good one, so Aelin wouldn’t mess that up by fighting her ex.

“Who says that?”

Chaol snorted. “The nine week delay to publish the eighth book should be indication enough.”

“Can’t rush talent.” Aelin said, a nasty smile on her lips.

“I won’t say you’re not talented, Aelin, but you are out of ideas. You weren’t bored, you had a writer’s block and freaked out.” Chaol said, oblivious to Aelin’s rising temper. He looked at her, giving an infuriating shrug. “You have a month to hand me the new idea. A full and useable idea. The first manuscript, preferably. You’re famous, write any shit and people will eat it up.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin said through clenched teeth.

Chaol merely smiled as he walked away. “A month, Aelin.”

Aelin wanted to go after him and smack his face against one of the piles of books in the room. Fortunately for him, Aelin was stopped by several people who wanted her autograph in the newest and last book of The Guild. It probably took her an hour to get through everyone— talking and giving every single person her full attention— until she finally managed to make her way to the bar.

She spotted Aedion’s head first, his broad figure standing up against the bar and talking to a pitch-black haired boy, Nino, sitting down near him.

“Who does homework at a party?” She heard Aedion asking.

“I have a test next week.”

“So do I. It’s called dealing with your mom while she contemplates hitting her head against a wall to force an idea to come out.”

Nino laughed, looking at his uncle. “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

Aelin smiled at her son, his words warming her. She had had Nino extremely young— had only been seventeen at the time— and he became her friend along with being her son. She approached her cousin from behind, listening to him ask for a glass of champagne.

“Make that two, please.” Aelin said and Aedion’s eyes immediately snapped to her as she approached the boy sitting down and passed an arm through his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, mom.”

Aedion grinned, raising his glass and gesturing around. “Built yourself an empire, Aeae.”

Aelin smiled in return, winking at her cousin. “Always said I would. But tell me, Aedion…”

“Uh-oh.” The boy Aelin was half hugging said, a humorous smirk on his face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Cut it, genius.” Aedion snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “What’s up, Ae?”

“Did you tell Chaol I was having trouble writing?” Aelin smiled sweetly, even though she wanted to strangle her cousin right now. The look on his face was enough to give her the answer.

“I told him nothing of the sort.” Aedion replied quickly, defending himself. Aelin only raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, I— I might have let slip that for the past nine weeks you have been walking around the apartment with either a cup of coffee or a bottle of wine while you curse the Gods for lack of creativity.”

“I am going to kill you.” Aelin said, a smile still plastered on her face as she noticed some cameras pointed at her. It was always like this whenever she went out with Nino.

“Ae, that’s ok. You’re an artist, that sort of thing is expected.”

“I can’t believe it, Aedion! The deal for you to live with us was plain and simple.”

“No meddling on her work.” Nino reminded Aedion, the boy looking immensely pleased at his uncle’s doom. “And no Chaol.”

“You know how things are with Chaol. No. Talking. About. My. Work.“ Aelin said, temper rising once more.

“What is there to talk about anyways?”

“Uncle!” Nino said exasperatedly.

“Whatever there is or isn’t to talk about,” Aelin was saying, jaw clenched. “I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with my ex husband.”

“Oh, I think I hear Lysandra calling me.” Aedion interrupted, absolutely ignoring Aelin. She narrowed her eyes, knowing damn well that Lysandra would never be calling Aedion judging by the brunette’s deep dislike of her best friend’s cousin. Aelin tried to stop him, but he just started walking away faster, shouting that they could talk at home.

It was just a fancy way of saying they wouldn’t discuss at all.

She turned around, looking at Nino. He had a smirk on his face as he looked down his physics book, a pen on his left hand.

“You should have stopped me.” Aelin grumbled.

“Letting uncle Aed move in?” Nino asked, looking up at his mom. “Nah, I think it’s sweet. Besides, I like him.”

Aelin only grumbled more, taking the two glasses the barista had put in front of her. She smiled in thanks, holding one of the glasses and placing the other in front of Nino. He smiled humorously, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m only sixteen, right?”

“You’re an old soul.”

“Well me and my old soul can wait until I’m twenty-one.”

Aelin smiled at her son, all anger and tightness leaving her body. Nino had always been her steadying rock, since he was a baby his presence had always been enough to calm her down. Differently from her, however, Nino was extremely serious and responsible, always following the rules, studying and making sure everything was right.

Most times Aelin found it immensely funny to see how different from her he had turned out.

“When I was your age—“ She was saying, a grin on her face. She immediately stopped, frowning. “Can’t tell you that story. Too inappropriate for your innocent ears.”

Nino snickered, pushing the champagne glass away.

“Don’t laugh, boy, this is exactly my point. Don’t you want to have wild, law-breaking, inappropriate stories that you can’t tell your kids one day?” She rested her elbows at the counter, a smile on her lips.

“You’ve lived enough of those for both of us now, mom.”

Aelin snorted, taking a sip of her champagne. “You’re studying physics at a party. At your age I would have been drinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You were pregnant.” Nino said slowly, a winning smirk at his face.

“Damn it.” Aelin muttered, earning a laugh from Nino. Despite her crazy stories, Nino knew very well how responsible she had been during her pregnancy with him. Nino, since before birth, had been the one thing capable of making her act like a serious adult. “You want to know why I killed Sam and Lyria?”

Nino raised his brows at the change in the topic, but nodded just the same.

“Because life should be an adventure, sweetheart. It should be full of unexpected turns and plot twists. It should be full of funny stories, embarrassing stories, inappropriate stories.” Her smile became soft, and she grabbed one of his hands. “I had to kill them because it wasn’t an adventure anymore, it wasn’t surprising. I knew exactly where they would always go, what they would always do. If my own characters weren’t surprising me, how could I hope they would surprise anyone else?”

“Mom…”

“I’m not telling you to be like I was when I was younger, it’s definitely not your type. I just want to make sure that you know you can make mistakes every now and then. That I don’t expect you to be like me, but I also don’t expect you to be perfect.”

He matched her soft smile, squeezing her hand slightly. “I know, mom.”

“Good.” She straightened, taking her champagne glass and looking around. “You know what else is boring? These parties. After having sixteen of these, the seventeenth seems rather dull.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, people praising you seems awfully boring, mom.”

Aelin grinned, resting her hips against the counter as she turned fully to him. “It’s always the same thing. ‘Oh my god, I’m such a big fan’, or maybe the ‘Where’d you get your ideas?’.

“Let’s not forget the fully adult men asking you to sign their chest.” Nino’s face crumbled in disgust.

Aelin laughed out loud, drinking from her glass. “I don’t mind that one very much.”

“Well, I do, if you’re interested in knowing.”

She snorted, putting the now empty glass down. “I don’t know, Nino. I just wanted for someone to surprise me once. I want something new to give me inspiration, to be my new muse. For the past eight years I have been hearing the same thing over and over again. I just want someone to catch me by surprise, to say something so shocking I won’t have a reaction, so surprising that I will—“

“Ms. Galathynius.” She was interrupted by a brisk tap on her shoulder. Nino raised his eyebrows at the person standing behind her, trying to get her attention in such impolite manner.

She forced a polite smile on her face, taking a pen from her bra. She turned around, raising the pen. “Where do I sign?”

A broad shouldered man was now standing in front of her, and even in heels Aelin had to tip her head back to stare at him. His arms her hanging by his side, his clothes extremely casual for him to be part of the party. His white button down and leather jacket hugged his arms and torso, and if his face wasn’t so enthralling, Aelin would probably have had a hard time not staring at the rest of him.

His features looked somewhat tense. His hair— probably blond, but looked so light that it could only be described as silver— a mess, almost as if he had ran his hands too many times through it. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his pine green eyes were stuck on her face with such intensity that Aelin felt her face heating.

“Detective Whitethorn, OPD.” He said, voice grave and words rolling out of his tongue with a lovely Scottish accent. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight.”

Aelin registered his words, but didn’t have any reaction. She just stared at the man, her eyes looking quickly at the Orynth Police Department badge he was holding.

Nino laughed quietly, reaching over his mom to take the pen out of her hand. “Well, this is new.”

Only then she turned slightly to her son, a scowl at her face. “No shit, Sherlock.”

—----- 

Aelin had always written about this, but she never thought that she would herself be like one of the characters from her story.

Honestly, she wasn’t nervous at all, just curious.

Hundreds of people had seen her all afternoon and night at the party, and she knew that she hadn’t killed anybody, so fear was off the table. Now, why the police thought she had any knowledge about the crime at all was what made her so damn curious.

Upon arriving at the precinct, detective Whitethorn had left her at the care of two identical men. Both had the exact same face, but where one seemed to radiate light, the other one seemed to suck it. As they took her to wait in the interrogation room, she thought that they would make great main characters.

“Whitethorn will be back shortly, ma’am.” The serious twin said, walking out of the room as she sat down. The other twin, however, lingered.

He was staring at her, his head cocked to the side just like a wolf seizing his prey. Aelin stared right back, raising one eyebrow at him. Despite knowing she hadn’t killed anybody, something inside of her was tensing at his staring. Did they think that her involvement with the murder was more serious than she had initially thought?

“You killed your main characters.” He said, and the air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. She scowled, suddenly pissed that he had made her so tense and it was actually just about a goddamn book.

“Yep. Bullet right through the head.” She made a finger gun and put it against her forehead. “Disappointed?”

He shrugged, resting against the threshold. “It was brilliant, but I adored Sam and Lyria. After eight years following the series, seeing your favorite characters being killed makes you want to kill the author.”

Aelin smiled when he winked at her. “Pardon. If it makes you feel better, I have already been scolded by my ex husband. Said it would have been better if I had just made Sam and Lyria join the circus.”

“Sam would have been a shit clown.”

Aelin nodded. “You’re right. Should have told that to my ex.”

The detective laughed, but was immediately interrupted when Whitethorn’s voice sounded from behind him. “Fenrys.”

“Sorry, Rowan.” Fenrys grimaced exaggeratedly, and Aelin grinned. “See you later, blondie.”

Aelin just nodded, her eyes immediately on Whitethorn when his figure approached the door.

“Ms. Galathynius.”

“Detective Whitethorn.” She eyed the manila folders he was holding. Some papers and photos were sticking out, but Aelin couldn’t really tell what they were.

He sat in front of her after closing the door, opening one of the folders. His eyebrows rose as he read, and he eyed Aelin quickly before sighing and putting the open folder at the table. “You have quite the history with the law for a best selling author, Ms. Galathynius. Public disturbance, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest…”

Aelin shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Living all your adventures through paper seem a little too nerdish for me.”

Detective Whitethorn rested his forearms on the table, inclining himself forward. Aelin did the same, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“You stole a police horse once.”

“Borrowed.” Her smile widened. Detective Whitethorn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it funny in the slightest.

“And you were,” he looked down at the folder before looking at her again. “Nude.”

Aelin shrugged once more. “It was springtime.”

“And every time the charges were dropped.” He drew back, resting against his chair. “Care to explain?”

“The mayor enjoys reading The Guild.” Aelin sighed dramatically, propping on her elbows and resting her face against her hand. “You know how people love to bond over mutual interests. And he loves my son, there’s that too. But that’s besides the point.”

“Oh, is it?” For the first time, the detective seemed entertained.

“Yes. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my college prank of a decade ago, detective.” She half smiled. “So why don’t you make your murder questions so I can go home and convince my son to stop studying so his eyes won’t fall out?”

“Ms. Galathynius.” He said, smirking at her. Aelin didn’t think it was a good smirk, though. “I fully believe that the cocky, irreverent, hot girl slash genius act makes people eat out of the palm of your hand in your glamorous world, but I work for a living, so why don’t you cut the bullshit because in my world, you can be only two things.”

“You think I’m hot, detective?”

Whitethorn’s smirk didn’t waver. “You can be the person who makes my life easier and goes home quickly, or the person who makes my life harder and stays handcuffed here until you decide to be the first option.”

“I could make so many inappropriate jokes right now, you have no idea.” Aelin said, and she could swear his smirk turned more playful. She smirked back, crossing her arms. “I supposed I shouldn’t want to be the one making your life harder.”

He didn’t answer, just let go of the manila folder containing her information and opened the other one. He took out the picture of a brunette woman. Dark hair, brown skin and big black eyes, the girl couldn’t be older than twenty five.

Aelin grabbed the picture, analyzing it. “Hum, pretty.”

“And dead.”

“Gods, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

He didn’t reply, just took another picture out. This time it was a man, probably at the same age, but instead of bright and soft features the girl possessed, his skin was pale and blue eyes glassy.

“Recognize them?”

Aelin shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed, letting go of the pictures. “I’ve been to dozens of signings, events and parties, detective Whitethorn. I can’t possibly recall every face.”

“Not what I meant. Do you recognize their features?” He asked, tapping the pictures.

Aelin looked back down once more, looking at those faces until something hit her fully. “Sam and Lyria. They look like my characters Sam and Lyria.”

Detective Whitethorn seemed satisfied with her answer, because he took other two pictures and placed in front of her. One of them showed the girl, her body dressed in a series of white cloths, wild flowers surrounding her whole body. Where her eyes should be, two big daisies laid, and looking more carefully, Aelin could also see daisies stuffed in her mouth and nostrils.

The other picture showed the boy, his body laying inside a casket, instead of white cloths hugging his body, his were blood red. The floor around the casket showed a series of markings drawn in white chalk.

“Holy fuck.” She breathed.

Detective Whitethorn was eyeing her carefully. “Her name was Mandy, his was Felix. He was found dead two weeks ago, but we only made the connection after we found her today. The deaths look exactly like the ones described in chapter six and twenty two of your book Gone Death.”

“A fan?” Aelin asked, a humorous smile on her lips.

“Yes, a really deranged fan.”

“Oh, you don’t seem deranged.”

He looked up from the pictures, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

“Detective Whitethorn, I am a best selling author and yet I can count on my fingers the amount of people who even know that Gone Death exists.” She smiled when he rolled his eyes. “It’s ok, I always thought it was a terribly underrated book. Only hardcore groupies ever read that one, though.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy constantly praising yourself, ma’am?”

“Oh, you have no idea, sir.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Does any of these groupies ever write you fan mail?” She just stared at him blankly. “Disturbing ones.”

Aelin shuddered, and this time it wasn’t for show. “Oh, try being a murder mystery writer. Every fan mail I receive is disturbing. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“It’s because sometimes, in cases like this, we find that—“

“The killer attempts to contact the image of his obsession, yes.” Aelin completed his sentence, earning a questioning look back.

She looked back at him, and curiosity beyond this case sparkled inside of her. She could feel an idea brewing, and the more he talked, the more interesting he got.

“I write murders for a living. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and the process of murder. Another occupational hazard, I guess.” She inclined herself forward. “And has anyone ever said you have pretty eyes?”

He stared at her, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He finally rolled his eyes, pulling the pictures back to him. “And so I assume you won’t have any problems with us going over you mail, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Be my guest. I have thrown some out, however.” When he looked at her, she just shrugged. “My son lives in that house, detective. And as much as I’m not a strict mom in the slightest, there are things I will not allow my son to be near. Middle aged man sending naked pictures and blood vials is one example.”

He nodded, getting up. Aelin looked up at him, jerking her chin in the direction of the manila folders.

“Can I get a copy of that?”

“A copy?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I have poker night with other best selling authors and you have no idea how jealous this would make them.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly asking. “Jealous?”

“In my world, detective, having a copycat is like wining the fucking Nobel.” She said, half surprised at the complete incredulity on his face. “So?”

He threw the folders at the table, placing his hands down and bringing his face inches away from hers. “People are dying, Ms. Galathynius.”

“I’m not asking for the bodies.”

He rolled his eyes, drawing back. He took the folders from the table, walking to the door. “I think we’re done here.”

Aelin stared at his back, seeing him leave the room. Once he was out of sight, she took her phone out, looking through her contacts until she found the one.

“Good night, Rolfe.” She greeted the current mayor of Orynth. “You have a direct say in the OPD business, don’t you? Because as you know, The Guild just ended but…”

Aelin looked at the door once more, and even though he wasn’t there, she smiled.

“…but I think I just found my new inspiration for a new series.”

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[samanthaa-leanne]

Sam, hon, are you taking requests? Because if you do can I ask for Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Denki dealing with a s/o that has frequent panic attacks?

Wow, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve actually written anything. Sorry, it’s taken me so long guys. I just haven’t had any motivation in a while, to be honest with you. But I am hoping to get some much-needed writing done this weekend. 

Anywho, thank you love for requesting this. I hope you like it.

Please reblog, like, comment if you enjoyed it! I love hearing from you guys. It’s important for us to share each others work and show other people how many amazing writers there are out there, so please reblog if you like my work.

If you would like to be added to my taglists please click the link here and click the according link.

Bakugou: 

You had been dating Bakugou for a few months now and you couldn’t be happier. 

His hot-headed personality complimented your own personality well. 

All of your friends kept telling you how perfect you were for each other, and you couldn’t help but agree.

All in all, your relationship was as perfect as it could get with a significant other like Bakugou. 

You guys had your arguments (what couple didn’t?), but it never lasted long. Once the anger wore off, you both found yourself wanting the others company more than you wanted to be right about some silly argument. 

One day as you were walking back to the dorms with Bakugou, you heard some girls gossiping about you, and you felt your first panic attack in months creep up.

“What does he even see in them?” One of the girls whispered just loud enough for you to hear. 

“He could do so much better. Maybe it’s just a temporary thing. There’s no way he could ever love someone like that.”

Your heart constricted at their words. Your palms became slick with sweat, and your breathing became uneven. You stopped in your tracks and brought your hands to your head as you closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing. 

You heard the confusion and worry in your boyfriend’s words as he looked at you, trying to determine what was going on, but you were too focused on trying to calm your breathing to answer him. 

After a few minutes of drowning out the outside world to calm yourself down, you felt yourself finally coming out of it.

When you finally looked up and made contact with your boyfriend, you were surprised by the look of worry that was on his face. 

He found himself being incredibly gentle with you as he put his hands on either side of your face. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered as his thumbs brushed over your cheeks.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, never taking your eyes off his. 

“What happened?” He asked, his voice laced with worry.

“I, uh, had a panic attack. I haven’t had one in a while, but they’re pretty frequent for me.” You answered honestly as you watched his face for his reaction. 

He nodded in understanding as he pulled you close to his chest. Your hands wrapped around his waist as he held you tightly. 

Once he got in his room, he researched everything he could about panic attacks and any time you had one knew exactly what to do to help you get through it. 

And after he got kidnapped and started having his own panic attacks, you were the only person he trusted enough to help him through them. 

You became a safe haven for one another, always dropping everything when you needed the other. 

Todoroki: 

You had only been dating for a few weeks when you had your first panic attack in front of him.

He had been telling you the story of how he got his scar when your own past childhood traumatic experiences flooded your mind.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, and your whole body began to shake. 

You slammed your eyes shut as you tried to block out the imaged that placated your mind. 

Shoto knew exactly what was going on, but he didn’t know how to help you through it. 

He knew when he used to get them that he had to work through it himself, so he just watched you and made sure he was ready to embrace you once you came out of it.

You took several deep breaths to calm yourself down before opening your eyes and came face to face with his heterochromatic ones. 

You let out a shaky chuckle and brought your hands up to cover your face. 

“I’m sorry Sho.” You whispered as your face burned red.

He gently peeled your hands off your face, and you were stunned to see the most loving expression on his face as he gently shook his head at you. 

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for being you. Your panic attacks are apart of who you are, and I will always be here to help you through them as best as possible. Just tell me what you need me to do to help you for next time, ok?” He said with a small smile as he placed a little kiss to your lips.

You couldn’t stop the tears that fell down your cheeks as you pulled him into your chest, hugging him tightly. “Thank you Sho.” You whispered as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed soothing circles in your back. 

 Shinsou:

You had been having panic attacks since you were a child, and many of them stemmed from getting bullied as a kid. 

You were bullied for numerous reasons, and if it wasn’t one thing than it was another.

You had a “weak” quirk. Your hair was weird. You were a loner. You were ugly. The insults were continually changing.

Kids were just mean, and it wasn’t long before your first panic attack happened. 

Which only made the bullying intensify. You were now the weird kid who freaked out over some slight “teasing.”

Your panic attacks became a frequent occurrence, having at least three to four a week. 

Once you got into UA, the number went down some, and once you started dating Shinsou it was only happening about once or twice a week. 

You were upfront with him from the beginning of your relationship. You were telling him about your past trauma and how it had affected you still to this day.

Shinsou knew exactly what you were talking about, especially considering how he used to be bullied because of his quirk. 

He instantly asked what he could do to help you get through it, so he was prepared for when you had one. 

He was needed only a few hours after that conversation, as one crept up on you on your walk home. 

Shinsou noticed the way your breathing sped up and how your body started to shake. You clutched onto his arm as a wave of dizziness hit you like a truck. 

Shinsou gently pulled you away from the sidewalk and onto a nearby bench as he tried to help you calm your breathing down. 

“Try and follow my breathing, kitten. Take a deep breath. Perfect. Hold it. Now exhale. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” He encouraged as his hand started to rub soothing circles in your back.

The panic attack came and gone, and you practically fell against Shinsou’s side as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. You buried your head in his chest as his hand came to stroke your hair. 

“Thank you Toshi.” You whispered as he placed a soft kiss to your head. 

“Anytime, kitten.” He answered back as he kept you in his arms for a little while longer. Neither one of you ready to get up from your spot yet. 

 Denki:

You had miraculously been dating Denki for close to a year now. 

The eccentric boy stole your heart after one glance. 

You were both madly in love with each other, flaws, and all. 

When you first started dating, you sat him down and explained that you had frequent panic attacks. You didn’t know what caused them, only that you had them. 

He listened intently and nodded his head in understanding, but to be honest with you, he had no idea what you were talking about until he went home and looked it up on Google. 

The first time you had one he was ready to give you a helping hand. He had looked up the symptoms and how to help someone through it, and still, to this day, you were surprised at his actions. 

You were just sitting in bed with him as a movie played in the background. A scene came on the screen, and the next thing you knew, your body started to shiver with a new onset of chills, and your breathing became erratic. 

It took him a few seconds to know what was going on, but once the light bulb went off in his brain, he went right into helpful boyfriend mode and asked exactly what you needed him to do to help.

“Distract me, please.” You managed to get out as you looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Uhm, okay... Let’s see. A distraction... Ok!” He yelled as he suddenly got up from the bed and ran to his mom’s bathroom as you tried to calm your breathing down. 

He came back in and had painted little lightning bolts on his cheeks as he charged up and yelled, “PIKA PIKA, PIKACHU.” 

Your breathing had slowed down to an average pace as you let out the laugh that you had been holding. You laughed so hard that tears started to fall down your cheeks, and your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh with you as he sat back down beside you.

 “Kami baby, what was that?” You asked between laughs as you wiped a stray tear away.

“It was all I could think of.” He answered honestly as he watched your body shake with laughter, the smile on your face easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

You leaned over and placed a sweet kiss on his lips before cuddling into his side as you turned your attention back to the movie.

Denki wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, and he watched you watch the movie. His eyes were hoping to catch one more glimpse of the smile he loved so dearly.

Taglist: @todohoeski   @handsoffmyfriends   @yeet-these-hoez   @shinsou-lovin-hours-anon   @starlight-steven   @lordexplosionsextra  @audiorealism @taepoppin @mehnotenoughtime @wasteofspace288 @anastar-legion  @thegalxe  @breaking-ur-kneecaps @renee1414 @livajoh @lanceyfancypants @girl-obsessed-with-things @yuiji-yuiji @lilacshouko @konkonbear @stephiecarie @melanie09astrid  @jisnuq @takemetovalhalla @buzzybeebee @pixelarts4  @lowermoons @datweirdonextdoor @agent-p-1220  @hxneybgb  @thoughtfulpandazine2 @dominikmagnus @your-local-lesbo @krazyotakunerd  @shookavengers  @carmomo18 @kittyddandnyla @munchkinssi @yahuwin @chaelysian @mikaelii @kxmilkahara @vitalthot @sega-cloudz @teenlife1599 @hikari-writes @tarasaoristark @galagcica @ficsformylife @peachyringgs @angyboibakugo @the-soft-corner @tereza-96 @swoonhui @icy-hot @khemz1312 @kandy1410  @ohashley101 @mikaelii @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @freyafolkvangr @todogirl707 @castle-bookworms-world @debbiehehe @beanie-baby-goth @deefeatist  @katsukivicktr @ak-may @pantasticalcat @avoidofgaystupidity @juxcebox @kritiiiii @stonerjeni @hxked @hoekageyama @buzzy-beutiful-sunshine-nugget @luvelyxp @lizzy101  @sunaswife @littybugz @the-soft-corner @panda-sekac @artemisbeauty19 @kuroirl @kiritokunuwu @debbiehehe @luvanter @yn-tingz @thathoneybee3 @glitterpuns @mephxles @send-me-places @jooleuuh  @iambashfulperson @frenchspeakingfilipina @babskuroo @freyafolkvangr @writingsofawonderer @samwiseman404  @iambashfulperson @bnhabookclub @chiaki-kinnie @dtgirl18 @dumpster-baby @laynawayna @gguksfilter @eventualwriterzyx @miraculousdisappointment @pasteldaze @ditu-m9 @dumbv1rgo @introvertedsin @1-800-schmacked @spiderlover22 @whisperingwolfie @chxcolxtemilk @elicheel @chaotic-dummy @sassy-cat-in-town @trashybakuhoe @bakuhoetoedoroki @bucky-blogs

[nonstoplover]

Café  ~ Dave Franco

masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) loves spending her time in her favourite coffee shop, but what she’d never imagine is that one day it becomes more than just grabbing a coffee, spending time with a specific brown haired boy…

Words: 2.7K

Approximate reading time: about 10 mins

A/N: this was my first actual request, and it was so long ago i’m sure you already forgot about it, @mcrvellouslystcrk​ but i didn’t, and after this long time i’m here with the finished product. i’m sorryyyy for taking so long, i had a terrible writer’s block, but now inspiration came back and i finished it in only a couple days. hope you enjoy

The smell of freshly brewed coffee catches my nostrils as I enter the small, indie-themed café. I take a deep breath happily like a real coffee addict when I feel the familiar calmness spread through my veins because of the oh-so-loved smell.

I look around, gladly noticing that my favourite table at the back of the room, next to the furthest window is left free, as if it’s waiting only for me.

I quickly walk towards the wooden furniture, placing my coat and scarf on one of the chairs as a signal that it’s taken before stepping to the counter to ask for the coffee I always order.

The girl behind the counter only glances up and she already recognises me, a smile appears on her face as she moves to start making a coffee for me.

“The same as usual, am I right? How are you today?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m great, thank you, a little tired.” I answer, smiling back at her.

“I’m glad you’re feeling great.” She beams up at me, pausing for a moment before speaking up again, finishing up the final touches on my order. “Let me tell you this one thing though, today has been absolutely crazy. So many people came in, even a couple celebrities!”

“Oh, really? I haven’t seen anyone.” I quickly look around to see if there is anyone famous around, but don’t catch sight of anyone except the bored businessmen and hippie-looking writers typing away on their laptops.

“It’s quite a surprise that your table stayed free to be honest. Some movie is being shot near here, all the crew and staff comes to take a drink. Which is of course great, because the more orders, the more money, and also you can meet a lot of famous people, but you know, I can’t take a rest if there are so many people…” She hands me the familiar reusable paper cup. “But enough of my ranting, have a nice time here as usual and enjoy your drink.”

I stroll back to my table, sitting down. A happy sigh escapes past my lips as I finally taste the hot beverage on my tongue, and I quickly reach in my bag with my free hand to take my book out. It almost opens up by itself at the page I finished reading the last time due to having been read a few times already.

Calmness spreads all over me again right away, making me forget all my problems and nervousness as I take in the words from the lovely smelled pages.

Not many minutes later out of nowhere I hear a gentle cough from above my head as the shadow of a body appears in the corner of my eyes, standing next to me. I look up to see a man with a cup similar to mine in his hand, mouth smiling down at me but his eyes stay hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“Hello. Sorry for disturbing, is this seat taken?”

“Oh, no, it’s not, feel free to sit down.” I’m quick to reply, pulling my things closer to me on the wooden surface to free up more space on it.

“Thank you,” he smiles and as he sits down, a strange feeling comes over me. I know this man. “I’m Dave by the way.”

And all of a sudden I know why he seemed so familiar.

He’s Dave Franco. The Dave Franco. I’m sitting at the same table with Dave Franco.

These thoughts run through my mind swiftly, his name repeated every other second as a wave of recognition hits me, but I’m quick to re-gain composure and half-recover from the shock I’m feeling and I try to act like I don’t know who he is.

“Ah, I’m… I’m (Y/N).”

“Beautiful name,” he announces before taking a sip of his drink. “Mmm, it tastes absolutely fantastic.”

“Yeah, this place is the best in town.” I slowly drink from mine as a shy smile spreads across my face.

“You come here often?”

“Yes, once a week. I used to come here almost every day but I realised that I’m going to spend all my money here and soon I’ll gain more weight than I’d want to, so I reduced the number of my visits to only once in a week. It’s my happy place. Here I can calm down whenever I need to,” I speak, words flying out my mouth rapidly. “Ugh, sorry, I’m rambling about my nonsense to a stranger.”

“Please, don’t apologize, I’m interested,” he smiles my way before lowering his head, eyes probably noticing the book laying in front of me. “What are you reading?”

Oh, well, that’s it. You can’t hide it anymore. He’s gonna find out that you know him.

“Nerve. I saw the film adaptation a while back and loved it so much that I decided to read it,” I mumble, staring right at the mentioned book, not being able to look up at his face.

A few second long silence comes as an answer and I glance up to see the blush creeping up his cheeks as he processes my words.

“So you’ve seen the movie, eh?” He finally says, voice a bit raspy before clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” I can’t tell which one of us is more embarrassed and flushed red at the moment, but I can’t take it after a while and look back down at my hands resting on the table.

“Then you know who I…” his voice gets more and more quiet as he speaks, slowly dying off, as he’s not being able to finish the sentence he has started.

“Yep, I know who you are, Dave Franco. I admire your work actually,” I say quietly, making sure no one else around us hears my words, my eyes still casted on my hands.

Only a couple seconds later I get the courage finally to raise my head up and look at his face, somewhere where his eyes are probably situated behind the sunglasses, and I’m trying hard to calm down, or to at least look like I’m calm from his point of view when in reality inside my chest my heart seems to burst with excitement.

“Oh,” is his only response.

“You alright?” I ask as he starts uncomfortably shifting. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m just a bit… surprised,” he pauses in the middle of his sentence, probably searching for the right word.

“Surprised?” I cock an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“I’m not used to get this reaction from girls who know who I am.”

Then probably my trying has succeeded and I do look like I’m calm.

“Well, you know, it doesn’t have such a huge impact on me. I’ve met with other huge celebrities in my life.”

He clears his throat, seeming even more uncomfortable by now.

“I’m only joking. I’ve never met any famous people before actually,” I chuckle after seeing his expression.

“Oh. Oh!” Dave kinda exclaims in realization. “Then how are you so calm?”

“I’m not.” I admit with a blush appearing on my face.

“Then you’re a great actor,” he smiles before moving to take another sip of his drink.

“I don’t think so, but I have to admit that it feels nice to hear this coming from an already proven to be amazing actor.”

Now it’s his time to blush. He shakes his head before an adorable giggle rolls out from his mouth.

“What?” I laugh. “It’s not like you didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, but I can’t get used to hearing it from a random pretty girl I just met at a random café.” Dave looks at me, his eyebrows half raised, appearing from behind the sunglasses.

Hearing those words I can’t keep looking at him and turn my gaze away. I stare into my cup, watching intently how the steam slowly flies up, out of the brown coloured beverage.

“So, (Y/N). What do you do? Work? College?” Dave speaks up again and I take a deep breath before looking back up, only to see that he has lowered the accessory sitting on his nose, and he’s now watching me curiously with nothing in the way of his set of lovely, brown eyes.

“So, David. I’m a uni student at the moment but I’m also working. So technically both.” I keep a straight face on, a kind of challenging one to be exact.

“What do you study?”

“Psychology.” I answer, and he freezes for a moment, his eyes gleaming with interest before probably deciding on to simply continue interviewing me.

“What do you work?”

“I’m a waitress.”

“Oh, nice. Where?” Dave nods.

“A nearby restaurant.”

“I see, you pretty much like this neighbourhood.”

“You don’t even know it all.” I chuckle. He’s just about to speak up again when I lean closer and as a top secret I whisper the answer to the question I know he’s just about to ask. “I even live in this neighbourhood.”

“No way.” Dave gasps, leaning in above the table like me.

I nod, glancing around to see if anyone else heard what I said, staying in character the whole time. When I look back into his light brown orbs, he breathes out a quiet ‘why’ and I can feel the air coming out past his lips on the skin of my face.

Suddenly I’m more than aware of the fact that we’re only a few mere centimetres away from each other’s face.

A shiver runs down my spine and then moves through my whole body as Dave leans back in his seat and starts laughing.

“I actually still believe that you would be a terrifically awesome actress.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Wow, no resistance? Where’s the girl I got to know a few minutes ago? All rebel and stuff.”

Laughter takes control over me as I watch, well actually almost admire his whole presence as he sips from his cup again, his eyes never leaving me, even for a second.

“After this improvised scene we just did I think I see what you mean,” I shrug when my laughter finally quietens.

“Maybe I should introduce you to my manager. You know, to see if you’d get a role in something.”

“I’m pretty sure I would get the leading role in any movie without making a real effort.” I smirk.

“Can I be honest with you?” Dave all of a sudden leans forward again, a serious expression spreading across his cheeks. I nod curiously and he continues. “I miss the old shy (Y/N). I don’t like this sarcastic, cocky new version.”   I burst out laughing, so hard that I have to grab at my sides as it starts to hurt, quickly losing my breath. People sitting around us cast curious or even irritated glances towards me, but I can’t help it and I keep on laughing.

A few minutes pass by with only my laughter and other various background noises filling up the air before I try to calm myself down. After taking a few deep breaths I manage to sit back up straight and look at him.

He’s watching me with something different in his eyes. Something I would describe as adoration, but that can’t be true. Why would he ever look at me like that?

“That’s what you get after getting to know me.” I speak up to divert my thoughts.

“Yeah?” He grins, the previous look in his eyes decreasing but not fully disappearing.

“Yeah. I’m usually described as a pretty sarcastic person. People also get annoyed with me quite often,” I admit, curiously waiting for his reaction.

“We have to meet more then so I can get to know you, you made me interested. Now I wanna see why people get annoyed.” Dave looks at me with a daring gleam in his eyes.

My heart stops for a second at his obviously flirty answer. Why would he want to meet me?

“We’re both quite busy people from what I can tell. How do you wanna do that?” I crook my neck, glancing up at him intrigued from the new, different angle.

“I don’t know yet. We have to figure it out.”

About half a minute passes with neither of us speaking, but the intension of our stares grows more and more as we can’t tear our gaze away, trapped in the depth of the eyes of each other.

“I was serious, I hope you know that,” Dave speaks again with his expression turning less playful. “I want to meet you again.”

A blush makes its way to my cheeks as his eyes soften, him still not taking them off me. “I’d love to meet you again, too,” I answer quietly.

“Amazing!” He grins.

Another few seconds pass in a comfortable silence, the type that’s filled with deep, maddening thinking.

“Actually, I admit, I’m still not sure why you wanna do that,” I speak my thoughts out loud. “You don’t even know who I am and if I’m crazy, like at all. Nothing.”

“I know. We only met a few minutes ago.” His eyes are still the same soft and I’m effortlessly melting in those auburn irises.

“Exactly.”

“Well, only in a few seconds you woke an interest in me. And I have this weird feeling that we could be great friends.”

Friends. So that’s what he wants. Only friends. I feel like something just hit me hard in the chest. Of course, why would he want anything more? How could I be so stupid?

“(Y/N)? (Y/N),” the concern in his voice breaks me out of the train of thoughts that goes on in my head. "Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“I have to go back to set now, but I wanted to ask for your number.”

The butterflies in my stomach start flying around again but I stop them, knowing that it’s useless. He only sees me as a friend. He only wants to be my friend.

“Oh, sure. Give me your phone.” I say, faking a smile on my face, my thoughts still swirling about how much of an idiot I feel like at the moment for thinking I could ever be more to someone like him.

Dave’s right hand is already holding the phone prepared for this, so in less than a moment he places it on the surface of the table. I grab it, typing in my number and name before pressing save and placing it back in his palm.

I’m still somewhere deep in my thoughts, not paying real attention to the situation when I notice him staring at me, clearly waiting for something.

“What?” I ask.

“Give me your phone as well. Or you don’t want my number?” Dave jokes but I can see it in his eyes that he’s truly worried about yes being the answer to his question.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I stutter, quickly reaching into my bag to pull my phone out, unlocking it and almost throwing it in his hand because of the speed I want to do it.

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down, I’m not in that much of a hurry,” he laughs.

I let out a nervous chuckle, trying to get away from my previous thoughts, not letting them come back.

“Okay, here you go,” he puts it down and stands up before speaking again. “Well, talk to you later.”

“You too.” I turn my head up towards him. He pushes his sunglasses back up to over his eyes before flashing a heart melting smile at me.

“Have a nice day. It was a pleasure to spend my break with you.”

“Yeah, it was pretty nice to meet you. Have fun on set.”

He nods, both our smiles matching the other’s, bright and happy, before he turns away and starts making his way towards the door. He turns back once more and while taking a few steps backwards, speaks up one last time.

“Sorry for not letting you read.”

I only chuckle, shaking my head as a signal that it’s not a problem.

The smile stays on my face the whole time while I’m drinking the last few sips of my coffee, not even touching my book again, just staring out of my head to the table in front of me.

When I finish, I quickly place all my stuff back in my bag and stand up, pulling on my jacket.

“Saw you had a nice company.” Maddy, the barista appears next to me out of nowhere, a piece of material in her hand to clean the table I was sitting at.

“You did?” I ask back, confused that she isn’t freaking out by the fact that it was indeed a famous actor.

“At least he looked pretty decent from behind,” she speaks without looking up at me, and it becomes clear to me why she’s so calm.

“Didn’t he face you at the counter though?”

“Oh yeah, really… ” Maddy pauses with a thoughtful expression on her face, then suddenly seems to remember the situation more exactly as she continues with an explanation. “He had his sunglasses on at the time, I couldn’t see his face.”

“Oh, I see.” I move my head in a nod, accepting that she didn’t recognise his face without the full view of it like I did.

“So, was he good?” She winks at me.

“Yeah, pretty handsome.” I blush, remembering how my conversation with Dave Franco turned out.

Maddy finishes cleaning and folds the cloth in her hands, smirking at me.

“I saw you exchange phone numbers, so… fill me in with the details next week.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I giggle.

“Have a nice week!”

“You too, Maddy.” I call out while making my way towards the door and stepping out of the café.

Crisp early spring air enters my nose as soon as I close the door behind me, and I take a deep breath, enjoying the chillness that fills up my lungs in no time.

Feeling refreshened and happy I glance up at the light blue sky, squint a bit because of the sun that’s shining bright down at me, and as a joyous smile reaches across my face, I start walking away in the direction of my apartment, feeling content in my heart.

.::the end::.

Part Two here

masterlist

[threeletterslife]

hii chana!!

i wanted to tell you that you are a greattt writer and you are really really talented! illegirl on wattpad was the first ever fanfic i read and i completely loved it!

+ i also wanted to ask, how do you get over your writer's block?

all the best for everything! And have great day!!

awww thank you!! i can’t believe illegirl was your first fanfic????? wow that boggles my mind!! i’ve always idolized my first fic in every fandom LMAO and the fact that illegirl can be someone’s first is so astonishing for me to grasp 😳😳 but thank you and thank you again for your kind words 🥺🥺

ooh writer’s block? i have a bone to pick with that 😤 and i’ll be happy to share my experience with it!

there are definitely different types of writer’s blocks (not being able to form any coherent sentences, not knowing what to do with the plot, just not wanting to write in general, feeling lost with your characters, not feeling creative enough to write). i’ll explain my experience in some of these categories and (hopefully) offer solutions that have worked for me

NOT WANTING TO WRITE IN GENERAL

the writer’s block that typically hits me the most is the ‘not wanting to write in general.’ i love writing, i really do! but sometimes, if i write for eight hours consecutively seven days in a row, it’s a bit tiring LOL. so then, i enter a dark period of writing nothing at all for weeks 😔

but i get over this by just... getting inspired again!

it sounds simple and (sometimes) it really is! what i like to do is read my favorite fics again. or listen to some goodass music. or draw. or just watch a movie. or take a hike. just... do anything except writing to be inspired enough to write again!

but honestly, not wanting to write in general stems from being burnt-out or tired. i would also suggest you take a hibernation trip lol (which is exactly what it sounds like, SLEEP!) OR, avoid writing anything for a few days to several weeks

NOT KNOWING WHAT TO DO WITH THE PLOT

man oh man. i’ve had a fair share of these in my past. probably the worst feeling ever 😐

i hate not being able to MOVE ON because i’m stuck on PLOT. so you know what i do? i move on anyways LMAO

i ditch that story for the time being (and let my mind mull over the ideas, the characters, the possible continuations of the plot) and then i distract myself with other stories or other hobbies or even *gasp* school work

after giving myself some time to think about the plot (or to give myself a break from it), i always find it easier to continue it later when i get back to it

another (more extreme/drastic) measure is to... delete the existing plot you had (maybe not the whole thing but a few to several scenes) and just... start over

OR! you can rearrange scenes around (for the flow) and that works just as swell too

if you still don’t know what to do with plot, i’d say 80% of the time, it’s because you don’t know your characters as well as you thought you did. take another look at their personalities. what would they do next?

FEELING LOST WITH YOUR CHARACTERS

this happens when you write before mapping out who your characters actually are. (what do they like? what are they like? would you even consider being their friend?)

i’ve done this a lot in the past lmao but it rarely happens anymore because i’ve learned to always create my character before i write my character!

but in the case that you accidentally write the character before you create it, you can do a fun little questionnaire with it! i like to pretend my said character is in a *virtual* lil interview. and i’ll write down a series of questions and write the responses in the way i think the character will respond! this helps you gauge the character’s personality and it’s also a fun method too! 

some questions i use: how do you view life? what do you think of breaking the rules? where do you think you would go after you die? do you believe in magic? ideal soulmate? do you regret any choices you’ve made (in your story)? would you like to meet other characters from your author’s stories and who? would you say you are the mc in your author’s story for a reason? what do you want to tell the author of your story? summarize your story in ONE word? what lesson do you think your story tells? one-word spoiler for your story? 

NOT FEELING CREATIVE/INSPIRED ENOUGH TO WRITE

nobody likes this feeling

not feeling creative sucks

so i try to absorb other people’s creativity LMAO

i read others’ stories, fics. watch new tv shows. try to draw. listen to music. just sit and think. i love reading back to my OLD stories too!

another great option is to write drabbles instead of long fics. it’s hard to write long word counts when you don’t feel up to it. instead, compromise by writing short little scenarios that fuel YOUR excitement! 

the more little scenarios you write, the more comfortable you’re going to feel with your work/thought process

and soon, you’ll feel inspired enough to write!!

NOT BEING ABLE TO FORM COHERENT SENTENCES LMAO

if this happens to you,

dear, go to sleep

stop trying to write at like 3 a.m. 😭✋

you may think your brain works the best late at night, but no, it doesn’t. (that’s what your brain wants you to think.) your ideas may be good, but you’re NEVER going to be able to execute it the way you want!! (trust me, i’ve been there)

so i suggest jotting down quick ideas before going to bed

wake up, feel refreshed, THEN WRITE

anyways, i hope this was informative enough 😭😭 have an amazing day as well (:

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret. 

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here. 

So, he started from the beginning.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away. 

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go. 

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win. 

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself. 

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue. 

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him. 

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling. 

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too. 

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.) 

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps. 

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life. 

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

 (I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign. 

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend, 

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age. 

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was. 

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists. 

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him. 

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.

[fivethreewolverine]

Abilities far beyond the ordinary (1/7)

A/N: So uhm. I don’t know what this is. Probably not a drabble cause I feel like per definition that’s something where you’re like “hey I was super inspired and just wrote this quick drabble for you guys” which is definitely not what happened; I had this fraction of an idea, just like one short sequence, in my head, and then tried to build around it. It’s not really a one shot either I feel like cause there isn’t really much of a story here. Honestly, it’s just a thing. I’ve never written anything before in my life (apart from the two headcanon thingies my brain spit out) so if whoever reads this could not judge me too hard for it, that’d be great. I’m open to constructive criticism though, I know there’s a ton of amazing writers out there, and I’d just like to get better I guess, so if anyone reading this has any idea how I could achieve that, let me know!

I have a few ideas on how the others discovered their powers, and I’d like to try to write them all, even if I’m not good at it, sorry everyone.

Tagging some people (aka incredibly talented writers) who might be interested and/or able to help (sorry to bother you guys, feel free to ignore me and this mess of a thing): @diego2hargreeves @gayouijaboard [wow it really feels terrible to tag you guys cause you’re literally amazing and I’m just here like hey. wanna look at some literal garbage, say no more.]

Luther

For quite a few years of his young life, Luther had thought of himself as clumsy. Things around him always seemed to break, of their own accord or if it was his fault, he didn’t know. Everything was so damn fragile, and no matter how careful the boy was, most of the time, he couldn’t prevent it. According to Grace, it had always been that way. When he was just a baby, they had to replace his bed four times over the course of two weeks because he tended to break the bars that were supposed to keep him inside and safe.

Sir Reginald and Grace had almost gotten into a fight over it – almost, because no matter how unacceptable it was to Grace - they really needed to take care of the children - after all, she was supposed to just do that, not designed to argue about it, talk back or question Sir Reginald’s methods.

Of course, the bed wasn’t the only incident that had led to Luther not quite trusting himself with touching anything. Most of the time, when all he wanted was to pick up his favorite mug, he ended up with hot chocolate stains all over his uniform and broken pieces of porcelain in his hand. Eventually, he stopped choosing a favorite mug altogether. What’s the point in having favorite things when they are too fragile to use?

Then there were all the times he excitedly ran to his sister’s room – and ended up dumbfounded in front of her door, locked out while she was trapped inside. He had ripped of the door knob. Again. Sometimes he really hated the old mansion. Needless to say, Sir Reginald wasn’t too happy about replacing door knobs pretty much constantly either. Luther had lost count of how many times he had been told that, even though in his eyes they were just door knobs, exchangeable things no one ever even looked at, they were expensive items, manufactured exclusively in Italy.

Sometimes Luther would retreat into himself and barely leave his room, afraid that if he did, he’d just end up breaking something else, perhaps something that was irreplaceable, even for a billionaire like his father. Allison tried to cheer him up, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault.

“Happens to the best of us, Luther.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course, Number One.”

However, even with Allison by his side, there were days where he doubted himself. When he had broken something for the 17th time this week, and it was only Wednesday. When he had the same talk with his father that left him feeling like he was a disappointment to the man who had taken him in, every time.

"Number One, what did you do?”

“Nothing, father, I swear I’m not lying.”

“Does this look like nothing to you?”

“It’s an old house, it’s not my fault.”

“Out. I don’t want to see you until dinner.”

Sure, his father was also always telling him how he was special. But if all he was, was especially clumsy, he could live without being special.

Day in, day out, Sir Reginald was always going on about how they needed to train, to find what made them extraordinary, their super powers if you will, to change the world, to save it even. He had all of them wondering what it was they could do.

On a cold and rainy day in February that had already set the mood for Luther from the moment he had woken up to his curtains hanging in shreds (he swore he had just tried to close them when he had woken up in the middle of the night to the waxing moon shining in his face), Luther was feeling particularly low. After lunch, he was so frustrated and caught up in his own thoughts, that he was somewhat convinced his only ‘super power’ was to eat 16 hot dogs in one sitting.

Little did he know this would be the day he would finally figure it all out. Why everything in his general vicinity always seemed too damn fragile. Why it had always been him.

They had just finished their training for the day and Luther had gotten in an argument with Diego over what would be the most efficient way to take someone down – Diego insisted a knee to the bad guy’s stomach would get the job done while Luther preferred a safer approach such as blocking their attack first. It had gotten a little heated and the boy wasn’t being his usual overly cautious self.

“No, you gotta disarm them first or they’ll get you,” he exclaimed, looking pointedly at his brother.

“Whatever, you don’t know what you’re talking about anyway,” was Diego’s way of ending the argument.

Luther just sighed, annoyed at his brother’s stubbornness. He didn’t want to make an even bigger deal out of it. This was Diego after all, it was pretty much pointless to argue with him once he had made up his mind. So, to escape the situation, he didn’t correct his brother, but simply shoved past him instead. Or so he thought. Later, Luther would swear he had barely grazed him, he really had just wanted to shove him out of the way so he could get through. All of which was hard to believe in that very moment, considering that Diego was thrown across the entire foyer, crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the room. For a good three seconds, Luther could do nothing but stare. What on earth had just happened? Dumbfounded, he looked around, trying to find whatever had attacked his brother. Only when Diego started yelling at him did it dawn on him. There was no intruder, they weren’t under attack. He himself was the cause of this. He did that. No outside force, but a force inside of him. Luther couldn’t explain it, it had happened so fast, he hadn’t realized.

“Luther, WHAT THE FUCK?”

[Pogo, from God knows where: “Language!”]

“I’m sorry, God, Diego, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Do that again and you’re dead!”

Diego stared him down from across the room, furious, bleeding from a cut above the scar on his left eyebrow. Luther was praying it wouldn’t leave another scar, although Diego didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with the other one, it probably made him feel tough. When Diego charged at him from the other side of the room, it was really just his instincts that kicked in – and maybe also the intense training he’d undergone in the past few years. Of course, Luther raised his arms to defend himself. Diego’s fists collided with his forearms. Luther ducked to escape Diego’s following forward momentum and used the newfound room to take a swing at his brother himself. Nothing unusual for two boys who were constantly pitched against each other during training sessions. What was unusual, however, was that Luther’s punch sent Diego flying across the room once again. Just when Diego came crashing down on the floor, the large wing doors on the east side of the foyer opened, and the boy found himself at Sir Reginald’s feet.

“Number Two? Number One, what is the meaning of this? Why are you not getting ready for your evening classes? They will begin in 10 minutes! Don’t look at me now, Number Two, get up.”

“Luther attacked me!”

“Did you deserve it?”

“Did I…no! Dad, you didn’t see… He threw me across the room!”

“Why didn’t you defend yourself? You should be able to. We will have to intensify your training if you are still not strong enough to even get yourself out of a harmless situation like this. How will you ever be suited for missions, Number Two?”

“Father, it wasn’t Diego…Number Two’s fault. It was…I think it was… me.”

“What did you say? Speak up, Number One.”

“I said I think it was me!”

“What do you mean by that, explain yourself.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

“Like hell you did!”

“Language!”

“I mean… I didn’t intend to do it, it just happened. Like… I was really... like super… oh…super strong!”

“Okay, you really didn’t hit me that hard, I wasn’t expecting it, you know, my balance was off, you snuck up on me…”

“We were having a conversation, Diego, I didn’t sneak up on..”

“Silence! Number One, with me.”

And with that, Reginald Hargreeves turned on the heel and marched down the hallway to his office. Luther threw one last questioning look back to Diego, then set to follow his father.

Was this really it? Could this be? Super strength? Like a real hero?

Maybe he could fulfill his father’s vision, live up to the old man’s expectations.

Maybe he could truly save the world one day.

[pinkletterday]

Writer's Year In Review

This year has been a revelation. I went from deeply, irrevocably believing I can't write fiction at all to knowing that I'm actually pretty good at it!

It's given me the confidence to find work as a freelance writer and editor in real life, after years of unemployment and anxious paralysis resulting from chronic illness and trauma. A lot of other factors also helped but the fic writing played a huge role in getting my shit together.

General Fic Stats:

Word Count on AO3: 92284

Fics posted to AO3: 23

Favourite Fic:

Kiss It Better (Westallen).This fic is my baby. I love little Iris and little Barry in it so much, the hurt and confusion in each other they attempted to heal, how that healing carried into their adult love and family. It will always and always be my favourite thing I have ever written. Wee!stallen is my jam, and the reason I ship them so damn hard.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). Ngl, I love this for the sheer amount of truly gratifying comments. Every single one of them have been emotional and flaily. It all makes me feel like I may have finally levelled up. Hallelujah. xD

Funniest Fic:

The Care and Feeding (Queenwestallen). This is my ultimate OT3. This fic, written as a list and discussion is 95% humour and contains some of my best banter and (I feel) characterization. An element I'm really proud of is how I managed to center and include all their important non-romantic relationships in their conversations. Iris's boisterous female friends, Oliver's friends, Cisco and Caitlin's snarky commentary all shoehorned themselves into the list with hilarious and wholesome results. 

It's not a popular OT3 but I feel like it's a good first attempt to drag this ship to water. xD

Cutest Fic:

Dancing Queen (Olivarry). Even after a year this contiues to be the fic with the highest kudos ratio (except for the more recent one) and the second most bookmarked. I love getting comments on this because they are all some variation of "my teeth hurt. I have diabetes!" xD Well, I did build it around a rainbow sprinkle icing sugar donut, but there is a significant dollop of angst there in the middle. A flangst donut.

Your Vigil In My Keeping (Westallen). This fic has less than 200 hits but has the highest kudos ratio of all. I guess kid fic isn't everyone's cup of tea, but Wee!stallen is cute af yo. I headcanon the origins of Barry and Iris's steadfast partnership in this story, where her faith and belief in him is as strong as his protectiveness of her, all tied up in the language and innocence of children.

Kinkiest Fic:

WA Smut and Kink Collection. I literally just posted this yesterday lol. So far it's just a face-sitting short, but I have quite a few hard and soft kinks lined up. Westallen needs more hard smut tbh, and they have such a unique powerfully loving dynamic that every kink I'm writing has required me to come at it a little bit sideways with a whole lot of emotional focus.

Saddest Fic:

Three fics I can't choose from.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). This is basically Iris's grief and fear in a raging tempest, and it's strongly implied that the future Nora has warned them of will come to pass regardless of what they do. The fact is that there already is and will be a timeline where Iris loses Barry, just as there must be one where she won't, because that is the nature of potentiality. 

The Paradigm of Uncertainty (Westallen). This was a drabble almost, that ruminates on the probability that speedsters do not erase timelines but abandon them, along those versions of their loved ones. It's as @rkwago's brilliant comment says: "Iris hurts in so many weird, cosmic ways that her life is almost an eldritch horror house," which is the most perfect description ever of what it means to be a time traveller's wife.

The Universal Constant (Gen, background WA). A lot of people find the way Barry goes off on Joe cathartic in this fic, and so do I. But it's not so simple. I don't think Joe was wrong to form the views he did, or that anyone was in the wrong really. As @sophiainspace pointed out, it's a mediation of grief and love, their parallels and continuations between parents and children and lovers. The fact that it takes Henry's death for Barry to find the adult language to articulate to Joe why he will always believe in his father's innocence is a tragedy that cuts three ways.

(This fic is also the reason I have a folder in my drive marked "how to get away with murder" and probably a likely reason to get me arrested one day. xD)

Most Popular Fic:

Strangers In The Cold (Coldflash). The Coldflash fandom is a joy to feed. This was my first smut fic which was preceded by an entire chapter of banter about nothing in particular (except it ended up establishing a background that gave birth to the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam series) And holy wow, for a newbie writer, the response has been amazing. Looking back, I wince at a lot of writing mistakes and its undeniably rough, but it really bolstered my confidence.

(I feel a little guilty that all my other CF stories are still in my WiP folder while I update the polyam series at snail's pace.)

The Shape of Us (Westallen). I wrote this on tumblr half-asleep one night, half as a rambly headcanon...and woke up to literally one hundred freaking notes. What the hell. Now at over 260, it's the most popular fic I've ever posted on tumblr.

I never consciously intended it to be a body-positivity fic but apparently women really relate to the insecurities of growing older and watching our bodies change with marriage, children and the sheer hectic pace of life. Even my non-fandom friends reblogged it simply for its representation of "real women". Barry's response is my own wish fulfillment fantasy; the sort of total acceptance and validation that we wish we could hear it the times we can't find it in ourselves. In light of the virulent body-shaming Candice Patton has been subjected to ever since she was revealed to have gained a fuller figure in S5, I'm very glad to have written it.

Least Popular Fic:

Carry On (Gen) This character study of Oliver Queen only has 135 hits a year after posting, which is par for the course with gen. But has a solid 12% kudos ratio, which means it's probably as good as I think it is. It's one of my favourite and easiest fics I have ever written.

Love Me Like You Do (Olivarry) Lordy, if my first Coldflash smut filled me with confidence, my first Olivarry smutfic all but ruined it. I struggled with it for a long time, unlike SitC, which I suppose shows in the over-descriptions. I got carried away with the quipping and I guess Barry topping at all is really not popular with slash fans?

Still, I'm honestly toying with the idea of deleting and rewriting it. At least it was a learning experience - don't write smut unless it makes you feel horny yourself.  

Most Challenging Fic:

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). I think the reason stories you knock off in two hours are instantly popular while the ones you slaved over for weeks barely get any attention is because the process is reflected in the ease of reading. But this one is an exception. It was an absolute monster, taking three weeks and several revisions to wrestle into submission - and it paid off in spades!  Going by the response, I seem to have achieved the wow factor I was going for.

My only regret is that I posted it on tumblr before the last revision that finally made it work, so that too many readers saw the lacklustre version rather than the polished one.

Honorable Mention:

A Stitch In Time (Olivarry for now, eventual Queenwestallen) Baby's first multi-chapter! Admittedly chapters 3 and 4 have been languishing in my drive for a few months now and this thing has 100% more deleted scenes and outtakes posted to my tumblr than the actual story on AO3. But I'm so proud of it! I learned to write action scenes because of it, how to write climaxes, dream sequences, news articles and tell a story in several different formats. It made me rediscover my empathy for Felicity and write her as a PoV character, think deeply on Laurel Lance's losses and give voice to her struggles, and explore how a real friendship and understanding could evolve between Oliver and Iris out of their mutual love for Barry. (Centering female characters within manpain narratives, ftw! Otoh, I centered Iris so much it veered off the Olivarry rails into Queenwestallen territory on its own)

There is so much meaty conflict and delicious looming disaster in this story that I'm determined going to keep at it, even if slow and steady. If only to bring the light of Barry/Iris/Oliver into the world. xD

Holding On (Olivarry). This real-world disability AU deals with chronic and mental illness and the precariousness and personal demons of that reality. I tore out the rawest parts of my life for this fic and put them on display so that I couldn't bear to show it to anyone for a year after it was written.

I'm very glad I did finally brush it off and put it up because it has struck a chord with so many people, especially other Spoonies. The low number of hits on a fic that deals in hurt/comfort rather stings, as I can't help but think the disinterest is because of the "disability" and "neurodivergence" tags. But I still think it's one of the best things I've written and one I'll always be proudest of.

General Reflections:

Things I've learned over the past year of writing:

- Self-deprecation is not my friend. I need to be honest enough with myself to acknowledge when my writing is good, because either I self-validate and build confidence or I become a black hole of insecurity where validation goes to die. And if I think I'm a bit better than I actually am, it's not just okay but necessary to believe it.

- What I call writer's block is perfectionism, anxiety and physical and mental fatigue. If I don't eat, sleep, hydrate and acheive a relaxed mental state, I won't be able to write. 

- Momentum is more my friend than any amount of inspiration and motivation. Sitting my ass down and make it a habit to churn out X number of words a day, even bad writing, will do more to help me than polishing an idea to a high shine. 

- If I don't forgive myself for the stories I can't write I'll never write anything. I am doing this for free, to share the love and joy and therefore obligated to no one. 

- I'm capable of writing things I don't have the first idea how to write. My fingers on a keyboard can paint the picture my brain can't visualize. 

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but I am going to make it a personal goal to write at least 15k words per month, learn to stick to a posting schedule where possible.  and end next year with an additional 150k words posted. 

To everyone who follows this blog, commented, reblogged and liked my posts - I see and remember and appreciate every one of you. You're the reason I feel seen and valued and why I am motivated to keep writing through all the difficulties life throws at me. <3<3<3

[touchpointpress]

  Anna Huckabee’s debut novel, Talents, hit the shelves earlier this year, and I know I’m not the only one excited to hear that she has more plans for her characters. The sequel to Talents will be released next year. In the meantime, check out our interview with this inspirational author.

For those of you who don’t know, Anna Huckabee’s books are based on her own experience learning how to use her talents to serve God. Anna and her husband currently serve as missionaries overseas.

1. In the past, you’ve talked about how your book was inspired by your own story of service and learning to use your God-given gifts. What I want to know is, specifically, how much of your books or characters are inspired by your own life?

I grew up in a neighborhood like Lincoln Square. It’s not very far from Ferguson, MO. When my husband and I got married, we bought a house in that neighborhood. Houses there have so much character! I love it there, even though it has changed so much in the last few years. It was hit hard when the housing bubble burst. At one point more than half the homes in the neighborhood were vacant.

What if someone had taken an interest? What if someone put forth the time, money, and energy to invest in that region? What if people cared? Those are things I ask myself about that neighborhood. That whole area of St. Louis struggles with the same things, but no one seems willing to do anything about it. I wish I had the time and energy to devote to it, but that’s not what God has for me at this time in my life.

A few of the character types were drawn from real life experience – like Ed and Pastor Conner. But I made most of them up when I was thinking through the story arc.

2. Wow, so this your way of telling your communities story. That’s great! Okay, so we know why you wrote Talents. It’s a wonderful testimony. Is there anything else you’d want your fans to know.

I feel like my readers need to know that I won’t be writing overtly Christian fiction in every book I write. I’m working on a fantasy series right now. It’s all clean fiction, but it all doesn’t have the same strong Biblical messages I try to bring into Lincoln Square.

3. And is there a question that you’re dying to answer, but no one has asked you?

Yes, I leave character descriptions out of the story on purpose. Sure, sometimes I’ll mention physical characteristics in passing. But I want my readers to know who the characters are, not just what they look like.

4. I’ve noticed that. That’s a great way to help your readers to connect with your characters on a deeper level. Now, you’re another author who started writing when you were young. When did you first feel like you were a “real” writer? What do you think of your childhood writings know?

I read a book a few years ago called “You Are a Writer (so start acting like one)” by Jeff Goins. That was the book that encouraged me to start writing again. I think I felt like a “real” writer when I finished my first novel in 2011.

A couple years ago, my grandma pulled out a story I wrote for her during church when I was about six years old. She’d found it when going through old papers she saved. I have a few of my childhood stories, and my mom has a few. They’re fun to read now. I can see my developing “voice” back then. Most of them are illustrated, and the pictures are hilarious!

5. I’ve heard you talk about how NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and how it helped you to stay committed to your writing and actually finish writing a book. Years later, are you still a champion for/participating in NaNoWriMo?

Yes! It starts in a few days, and I’m all geared up and ready to go for another round! My synopsis is waiting, and the story parts are banging around in my head eager to get out. Every year I worry I won’t finish, but I have every year since 2011.

(That’s happening writing now in the month of November for anyone interested in following our author’s journeys through this year’s NaNoWriMo competition.)

6. How do you handle writer’s block?

I’ll let you know when I have trouble with it. The only time I’ve ever struggled was when I was writing a scene that had stuff happening to my characters that was horrible. It’s not fun to write those. So I know what I need to write, but I don’t always want to write it.

7. No writer’s block? I bet a lot of people are jealous right now. Do you think of writing as a second job?

I’m not quite to the place of viewing writing as a second job. It might be headed that way in the future. There are so many other things I need to focus on first – my husband and kids and our ministry.

Writing energizes me! I love doing it. It’s fun when I get the chance to write every single day. I’ve been doing more of it lately, and I really enjoy it!

8. Let’s talk some more about your personal writing experiences. Do you have any writing habits? Are you a paper or a computer person?

I’m a computer person all the way. I can type much faster than I can hand write. I do most of my writing at our dining room table or in our office. I have to claim the office desk early, or one of my kids gets it first and uses it for school.

My writing space is anywhere I can focus on my writing project. I’ve written all over the place – airports, hotels, in the car while we travel, at a desk, on the couch, at the dining room table (or kitchen table, depending on what is available), sitting on my bed, and even on our front porch.

9. Inspiration can hit anywhere. I can imagine you carrying a journal everywhere you go just to make sure you get everything down. What was the hardest part about the writing/editing/publishing experience? What part was surprisingly easy?

The editing is the hardest by far. Editing is my nemesis, my antagonist. Hah! I read “On Writing” by Stephen King, and that book helped me know where to go. Then I researched it online. I don’t like reading the same book over and over again. Once I’ve been through my books three or four times, I have to take a break from it. But even with all this, I still reach a point where I feel I can’t take it any further myself. I comfort myself with the fact that anything is better than the first draft.

The irony is that I can edit other people’s work with no trouble. I worked my way through college typing and editing document for my instructors. Even today I’ll do editing for friends and family. So it isn’t that I can’t edit, it’s that I struggle to edit my own work.

10. I’ve heard that so much! Editing is always the worst part. That’s why we’re here to help! Now I’m curious what part of the process you considered easiest in comparison.

Easiest? I’m not sure. Probably writing the first draft. (Which always feels like a masterpiece when I’m done with it! Then I come back to edit, and I’m convinced it’s the worst book ever written.)

11. Well just keep writing those first drafts! It always gets better! What’s one shocking thing that an editor asked you to change or you decided yourself to talk out of a manuscript? Do you wish now that you’d hadn’t taken it out?

So far this hasn’t happened to me. That said, I had to go back and take out half of what I wrote on my first novel (as yet unpublished) because it wasn’t working. Only about half of the 60,000 words I have now are the same ones I wrote in the first draft.

12. What’s one moment during the entire writing and publishing process that you will never forget?

When I saw my published book for the first time. Wow! That was an amazing feeling! It was a dream come true!

13. Yep! That moment is unforgettable. Can we take a peek at your bookshelf? What books could you never part with?

Jane Eyre. My L.M. Montgomery books. Chronicles of Narnia. Those are old, dear friends from my childhood.

14. Has a book ever made you cry or laugh at loud? Do you enjoy eliciting the same emotions from your readers?

I love when books move me emotionally. I bawled at the end of “Harry Potter.” Like ugly crying. I had to stop reading and get myself under control and come back to it. “Unbroken” was another book that moved me to the point of tears.

It’s hard to write like that because the story you are writing has to move you as you write it. There were times when I was writing Talents (and its sequels) that I walked away from my writing feeling like I was in an emotional fog. I’d been so engrossed in the story I was telling and the emotions I was writing that I had to work to get back into the real world!

15. That is the telltale sign of an amazing book – when the emotions in it become real. I’m so glad that you pour so much of your own emotions into your writing. Do your favorite authors and books reflect what you write?

I read a LOT of fantasy and contemporary fiction and I tend to write both of those, so I guess the answer is yes. My favorite authors, books, and genres reflect what I write.

16. I love hearing about all the different ways that our authors joined our publishing family. How did you choose to publish your work with TouchPoint Press? How involved were you in the publishing process?

I found TPP in the Novel and Short Story Writer’s Market and then researched them online. Talents was my first published novel, so it’s my only experience with it, but I was involved in most parts of the publishing process – from editing to giving input on the cover art (which turned out exactly how I’d imagined it!) to final copy edits and reviewing it before it was published. I’ve been pleased with the experience!

17. I’m so excited that I got to be the first one here at TouchPoint Press to read the sequel to Talents. Can you tell the readers about your plans for the rest of the series?

The next book in the series is Door of Hope. Melody and I (mostly Melody!) just finished the final round of edits on it. I have two other books written. One continues the story begun in Door of Hope. The book after that is called If These Walls Could Talk, written from the perspective of a house and continues the story of Collin and Shondra from Talents. I have an idea for another book but haven’t developed it very much. It would include both Jackson and Ed from Talents and be set about eight years in the future.

There are several (four?) other novels on my computer. They are all finished to one degree or another, but most of them aren’t edited yet.

18. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for Shondra, Jackson, and all of their friends. How much, if any, time do you spend researching for your books? I know that you travel for work, but did you do any traveling for research or go on a “writing/reading pilgrimage”?

My books consist of fiction. I do research things I need to know but don’t – like what kind of cancer treatment Jackson would have received. Sometimes I write about places we’ve visited in our travels but I haven’t ever traveled for my writing.

19. It’s so much easier when you don’t have to stop writing to check a lot of facts. Believe me, I know! As you move forward and continue to write and publish books, what do you find different about the whole process? What valuable lessons have you learned?

I’d like to think I’m learning to be a better editor. You’ll have to ask Melody about that, though. Hah! It’s also comforting to know what to expect in the process. The first time everything was so new. Now I have a frame of reference.

20. You are a big help when it comes to editing your manuscripts. There’s no doubt about that. What’s the hardest thing about writing characters? If you don’t struggle with characters, what is your “writing kryptonite”?

Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but editing is my writing kryptonite. As for characters, so far those have come easily. It’s fun imagining interesting people for my books.

21. Just curious…What did you do with your first royalty check?

I’ll probably put it in savings. You know, save up for that retirement house by the beach in Hawaii. Seriously, though, we have several big projects here in Uganda that we need to take care of. It may go to help with those.

22. I can’t tell you how much that answer makes me smile. We’re lucky to have you on our team. Finally, I’d like to ask you if you have a favorite verse or passage from the Bible or one that has really spoken to where you are in your life right now?

John 15:5 – I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that abideth in me and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit. For without me ye can do nothing.

Everything I really accomplish is through Christ. I just need to rest in Him and let Him work.

  Thank you, Anna, for taking the time to complete this interview! I had great time learning about your writing and your life. Hopefully, we’ll be hearing more from you soon.

Follow our blog to learn more about Anna Huckabee and her books and our other authors. Don’t forget to order you copy of Talents before we the sequel releases: https://www.amazon.com/Talents-Lincoln-Square-Anna-Huckabee/dp/1946920169

  Interview with the author of the Lincoln Square Series, Anna Huckabee Anna Huckabee's debut novel, Talents, hit the shelves earlier this year, and I know I'm not the only one excited to hear that she has more plans for her characters.