#will be thinking about this moment for months and doing some good old self reflection as i am wont to do

[cat-clawz]

cant really truly hate aziraphale because i can see too much of myself in him. too much of a desperation for stability at the cost of EVERYTHING in life. Too much of a fear of the unknown, shying back to familiarity no matter how bad it is.

BUT DAMN does it also make me feel a very special rage and frustration at his response. It's like watching yourself in a mirror and realizing what the fuck is wrong with you and you're screaming "NO I KNOW HOW THIS ENDS IVE DONE IT SO MANY TIMES IT WONT MAKE YOU HAPPY" but you are powerless to change it.

[sunnypopoki]

— MUZZLE : P.7

(Yandere Mafia Husband x Female Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Your husband has been suspicious lately. Going out for days on end, answering suspicious phone calls, being extra clingy when he can... is he cheating on you? Little do you know, it's nothing like that. The world of the mafia is unforgiving.

TW: INSECURE REALISTIC FEMALE READER, FOUL LANGUAGE, MARRIED RELATIONSHIP, YANDERE CONTENT, MATURE THEMES, OVERTHINKING READER, AFAB READER, ETC.

THIS STORY HAS YANDERE CONTENT. THAT MEANS THERE WILL BE MORE MATURE CONTENT. THIS IS IN NO WAY A STORY MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE YANDERES, SO PLEASE DO NOT DO SO EITHER. PLEASE DO NOT COPY THIS STORY. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED TO POPOKI ON WATTPAD, QUOTEV, AND TUMBLR.

P.6 / P.8

Promises were said to be sacred, but after the following days, you gave up on thinking on such a childish claim. You were walking on a tightrope and before you knew it, you finally started to hear it withering below.

Kieran did his best to stay true to his word but in the end, it was nothing more than a fruitless dream said in the heat of the moment. He ended up picking up his phone calls and you ended up sleeping alone. You were losing the energy to care even if your heart throbbed at the thought.

Stepping off the bus, you pulled your bag up your shoulder and sighed. Kieran took the car that morning to work and so you were forced to take the bus to get to college. If he knew, he'd most likely apologize over and over again, and then never let you ride the bus again. He was always finicky about public transport.

You hopped around the puddles left from the early morning rain.

Ever since the breakdown in the car with Kieran, even to go as far as snapping at Danny, you've done a lot of self-reflection. And you mean a lot. While you were going to school for psychiatry to become a therapist, you weren't the best at regulating your own emotions. It was easier to point out other people's issues rather than pointing out your own.

Maybe I do need to look into seeing a therapist, you thought. It would be better than snapping at people.

Because in truth, you felt guilty. Very guilty. Not about everything else that's going on—but because of how you treated Danny. Everyone knows that it's easier to look back on your mistakes after they pass, and now that you were looking back on that lunch, you saw a lot of things that you could have done differently.

Like the fact he actually did care. Sure, you didn't realize it then, but now you could. How he tried to comfort you when you were spacing out, how he asked how you were doing, telling you that he trusted you enough to want you to work with him.

"He probably wouldn't have told me about my dad if he was working for him," you mumbled under your breath. "He wouldn't have even brought him up. If he wanted to manipulate me, there was no reason to bring up my father."

You assumed the worst. You assumed Danny was just like your dad, just because he happened to be a businessman too. How sad, right? You were so stuck in the past that it was hard to appreciate the love you had now.

Danny wasn't a bad man but you were so quick to assume he was even though you hadn't seen him in half a year. You acted just like how your father treated you; cruel, judgmental, selfish. You didn't take into account what Danny felt. Maybe he was just as anxious as you, he always did have social anxiety in school, even with his good grades.

For someone who wants to become a therapist, you were pretty quick to judge an old friend just because they talked about a topic that made you uncomfortable. How would Danny know it made you uncomfortable? It wasn't like he could read your mind. He hadn't seen you in six months and you expected him to still know everything about you?

You bit your lip. Damn it. Why did a throw a tantrum like that? I even yelled at Kieran.

Guilt was like a sword doused with poison. The moment you realized what you did after some self reflection, there was a sharp pain in your chest like a blade plunging into your heart. Then there was the creeping sensation of nausea each time you thought about what you did, getting worse and worse with each day that passed.

You hopped over a pothole on the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding pedestrians walking down the street. "...Should I message Danny and apologize? What if he doesn't want to hear it though?"

It was hard not to run away. It would be easier to pretend it never happened, to act like he was in the wrong, but in truth—both of you said things that weren't nice. Both of you hurt each other. It wasn't black and white and you realized that, but in that moment, you were selfish enough to think that you were the good guy and he was the bad guy.

"If I don't apologize, I'll continue to feel bad... but he might hate me now. What if he hates me? What if he'll hate me either way?"

Oh yeah. You needed a therapist.

Sorting out your brain was like an impossible puzzle. It was hard to see all the pieces when you didn't have a full view of the table, but with a therapist, they could help sort it out. And maybe they could help sort your thoughts about Kieran too. You slowly wrapped your arms around yourself and frowned.

Each time you had a bad thought and you tried to push it away, it came back ten times more forceful. It was hard to stop thinking. Maybe you had OCD... or just extreme anxiety... or some other undiagnosed mental illness?

I don't want to think about this.

But here you were, continuing to think about it.

You looked over when a dog caught your eye. It rolled over in a patch of grass on the side of the road in front of a storefront. Its hair was soaked with damp grass and dirt, speckled with crunched leaves and twigs. It was having the time of its life. Tailing wagging and panting loudly, you smiled softly when it started rolling over again.

You know what? Maybe a pet would help you sort out some of your issues. Going to bed in a cold bed would be impossible with a puppy cuddled up next to you. Taking care of something would help you distract yourself from all your thoughts too. Like an emotional support animal.

What type of dog would Kieran like?

Your jaw clenched up. Danny made you feel bad, but how you acted with Kieran made you feel sick to your stomach. You yelled at him. You yelled at him like your dad used to yell at your mom. Did he get scared? Is he hurt? You didn't know, since you avoided him ever since then.

You weren't a good friend and you weren't a good wife either. You yelled at him just because you were emotional, fuck, there was no reason to raise your voice but you did. So what if Kieran was distracted at that moment? That didn't give you the right to scream at him.

Maybe I'm turning into my dad? The thought made your blood turn cold. What if I picked up some of his traits with how he treated Mom?

Your father was an abuser. Not only towards you, but his wife as well. You were a child she didn't want, but he forced her to have one nonetheless; being a child of rape didn't help the family bond at all. The moment you were born was the moment everything went downhill. Your father wanted a boy but you weren't one, so he blamed and hit your mother for it, taking his frustrations and cruelty on you when he wanted to.

Your mom didn't love you. Over time, even if it was hard, you realized that you didn't blame her.

Imagine how hard it would be to bond with someone knowing that they shared the same blood as the man who abused you.

You stomped down the streets. The world was spinning, your throat closed up. What if you were abusing Kieran and didn't realize it? What if you were neglecting him? There was the possibility you weren't doing everything subconsciously, right? You yelled at him. You doubt him. You sneaked to look at his computer when he wasn't home.

You were the walking, breathing, sighing incarnation of your father.

No, no, no. Don't spiral, (Y/N). You know that you're spiraling so stop it! You mentally scolded yourself, clutching your bag tighter to you. I need to find a therapist, someone who can help me.

The city was blaring and it was hard to hear your own thoughts. Therapists were always hard to find; either it's because they were too expensive, or too booked, or too far away. You personally weren't a big fan of doing therapy through video. You were more of an "in-person" type of person, if that made sense.

Maybe if you were lucky, you'll find—

"Shit!"

You had only a split second to look up and realize someone turned around the corner you were walking past. Only a split second to dodge. But that was impossible, you weren't Superman. Your nose slammed into his chest and your feet stumbled back, barely managing to catch yourself so you didn't fall to the ground.

The man's hands were full and he struggled to balance himself. Your arm shot out to catch him, or maybe just grab something out of instinct, but it was too late—he crashed. His coffee splattered all over and his sunglasses skidded across the cement.

Realization hit you like a truck.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry!" you fretted, quickly helping the man up from the sidewalk. Cold sweat made your palms damp and your cheeks were burning hot. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Just as quickly as he fell, the man hopped back up with ease. He grumbled curses under his breath in another language, fixing his orange and red sweater, while he put his sunglasses back on. Luckily those weren't cracked, they looked expensive. No way would you have been able to pay those off.

You bent down to grab the empty coffee off the ground. Talk about guilt, you felt extremely guilty now. How did you not see him?! You should have been paying attention, not absentmindedly walking down the streets like a doofus! Now look at what you did; knocked down an innocent bystander because of your stupidity!

"I'm so sorry! Uhm, I can—I can buy you a new coffee," you stammered.

He whipped back around. You could barely see the heated glare behind the tinted lenses, his Italian accent harsh. "Bitch, fucking watch—"

He froze when he saw your face. For whatever reason, he looked like he had a scary realization of impending doom right when he saw you. Like the music for Jaws just started playing and he was looking down the mouth of a great white shark. The blood on his face drained to his feet and he licked his chapped lips.

You, on the other hand, took his expression as unbridled anger. He had every right to be angry. You'd also be pissed if someone knocked into you and made you spill your coffee and all your belongings. Especially since he looked all out together nicely, you probably just ruined his cool 'vibes'.

His dreadlocks were pulled into a pretty bun. You noticed the silver charms in his hair, matching the designer watch on his wrist. Even his orange-tinted sunglasses matched his orange and red sweater. He looked like he took an hour to organize his outfit for the day. Thank god the coffee didn't get all over the front of him. You hadn't a clue how much his sweater and pants cost, but based on that watch, you didn't want to look at the price tag.

If only you had a hole that you could jump and hide in forever. "I'm so sorry! Wait, here, let me..."

You turned out your wallet and pulled out twenty dollars. That had to be enough for coffee and a little something extra from the cafe nearby, right? You'd be fine. Ten dollars being left in your wallet was enough to buy a small sandwich on campus for lunch. It was your fault for forgetting your debit card back at home.

"Here, sir! Uhm, please take this. You can get yourself another coffee and something extra from the cafe nearby. I am so sorry."

The man rubbed the back of his neck, not reaching for the money. He didn't even glance at it. "Oh—uhm—It's okay. I don't need it."

"No, please, take it. I won't be able to forgive myself if I just ruined your morning like this," you confessed. "I wasn't watching where I was going, I'm sorry."

He was hesitant. You weren't dumb, you could tell he looked uncomfortable around you. There was the possibility that he was so angry that he was trying to hold it all back, making his movements almost robotically evasive. With muscles like his, he could easily hurt you if he wanted, but instead, he was acting like he'd get seared if he looked at you.

You prayed to god that he didn't explode and scream at you. You didn't think you'd be able to handle that this morning.

"I don't need the money. Ah... it's just—uhm, it's just a mistake. We all make mistakes."

But I'll feel like shit if you don't take it.

His complete 180° attitude was jarring. One moment he was glaring at you and calling you a bitch, now he was saying it was a mistake. Was he just trying to keep face?

You caught a glimpse of something black in the corner of your eye. Turning around, your face drained when you noticed his phone on the ground. His phone was cracked. Your mouth opened in horror and you choked, noticing that it was a newer brand.

How much were those phones? 2,000 dollars? You'd have to sell your soul to get him that type of money.

"Oh my god! I'm so fucking sorry! I didn't realize I broke your phone!"

He blinked. "Huh?"

Looking down to where you were staring, he finally noticed that his phone was on the ground, the screen destroyed. It stared back at him with cracked glass and a chipped case. It was just a small tumble! Why did it look like it went through the Himalayas?!

There was a long pause. The man cleared his throat, rubbed his face, bent down, and grabbed his phone. He tapped at the screen but it didn't come on. Again, it didn't turn on. And again, nothing. He didn't look as angry as you thought he'd be, but that didn't smooth your nerves.

"...uh, It's okay. I can—"

"It's not okay! I'll—I'll pay for it. Uhm, I don't have the money with me now, but uhhhh..." you pulled out a notebook from your bag and tore a piece of paper, "please email me here, since your phone is decimated. Fuck, I am so sorry. I'll pay you back I swear. Promise."

He didn't take the note or say anything. He stood there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath. He looked fed up. Oh no. You screwed up big time. You made him fall, lose his coffee, and crack his super duper expensive phone.

"...do—do you not have an email? I can uh, I can give you my phone number if you have another phone to reach me," you asked, clutching the paper tight in your hands. "I—I don't have the money now but I swear I'll get it! How much was it? 1,500? 2,000?"

The man cleared his throat. There was another long pause before he hesitantly glanced at me. "I'm not upset. I just have a question. Are you... uh, (Y/N)?"

If there was a magic word to put all your defenses up in a heartbeat, it would be your name. It wasn't like a lot of people knew it. You didn't flaunt it on social media and you weren't famous, you didn't have a lot of friends either, so it wasn't like it was normal for a random person to know your name on the street. Your muscles wound up. Maybe this man worked for your father? It wouldn't have surprised you if he sent someone to stalk you.

You glanced around. There were no suspicious fancy cars on the street, or suspicious people that looked like they were watching you.

Repaying the phone didn't seem to matter all that much anymore.

"...yes? How do you know my name?"

He bit his lip and glanced around as if he was scared some monster would come out of the shadows and attack him. He looked more paranoid than you did. "Uh... sorry for randomly asking that. However, I'm a friend of your husband, Kieran."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You've never heard of him or even seen this guy before. Maybe he was a client of Kieran's? A writer or journalist? A fellow editor? If you had to put it nicely, the man in front of you didn't look like he had the patience to sit down and edit written work. With bulky muscles like that, you'd expect him to be a wrestler or full-time bodybuilder.

The man cleared his throat and pushed back the money you gave him, along with the torn paper. "As Kieran's friend, I can't take his wife's money. I can buy some coffee and a new phone easily." 

Seriously? Easily?

"But if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you about something," he straightened his back up and there was a spark of confidence in his eyes, along with some determination as if he made up his mind about something. "Could you sit with me at the coffee shop now? I have concerns about Kieran."

This was weird. This entire ordeal was so weird that it almost didn't feel real. Let's put it into perspective; you bump into a man and he calls you a bitch, then changes and starts saying you made a mistake, asks for your name, claims to be your husband's friend, and then asks to talk to you over coffee? So yeah, weird.

You were about to say no, but then stopped yourself when you remembered you were in his debt. You just broke his phone and made him spill his coffee, the least you could do was pay for his coffee while he talked to you about something.

Even if it was weird, it wasn't like you were going somewhere where it was just you and him alone. He couldn't possibly kidnap you inside a coffee shop next to a busy street in the city. You examined him head to toe. He didn't look like he had any weapons, and if he was a friend of Kieran's, you doubted he'd harm you.

Your college class could wait. Luckily your professor was kind enough to know you weren't the type to ditch class willy-nilly.

"Okay, but I'll pay for your coffee. It's the least I can do," you stuck your hand out for a polite shake, "what's your name?"

The man took your hand. "Mathew."

"Nice to meet you then."

It was awkward, so you didn't say a thing as he started to blabber and lead you to the coffee shop that was close by. You didn't know what to say. Should you compliment his clothes? Ask how he knew Kieran? He'd most likely elaborate over coffee.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him. Just why was he wanting to talk to you was the big question. It wasn't like you were a super genius and you didn't know a lot about Kieran's schedule, so he could ask about that. You doubted this man knew anything at all about you except your name.

The walk to the coffee shop was a long one. Well, it was realistically only two minutes of walking, but the mental time there was forever. The man blabbered about random things to pass the awkward wall there; the time, the weather, the news. He didn't mention anything about the most recent murder case which you were grateful for. You already had so many things on your mind, you didn't want to think about that.

The door to the coffee shop chimed when the both of you walked in. A young waitress perked up from where she slumped against the counter and quickly rushed to give us a booth.

Finally, things are moving along.

Mathew slipped inside his seat. Unlike the restaurant you ate at with Danny and Kieran, this place was cozy and right up your alley. The smell of coffee beans filled the room and the rays from outside poured through the window, warming up the table. He ordered a black coffee and you ordered an iced caramel latte. You didn't even like lattes all that much, but it was the best thing on the menu.

Mathew smiled. "This coffee shop is very cozy, don't you think?"

"It is."

"It's perfect for a date. Have you taken Kieran here before?"

"No, I have not."

He didn't seem bothered by your robotic responses. It was like he already knew how you'd react to him. He didn't push for any more questions, instead, he waited for you to ask the question you've been dying to ask ever since he told you he was Kieran's friend.

"...So, Mathew, how come has Kieran never told me about you before?"

Mathew tapped his fingers against the table. He had horrible posture, leaning back with a nonchalant air surrounding him. He didn't seem angry or nervous anymore. Maybe it was just possible that he had mood swings. That made more sense than whatever weird explanation you could come up with inside your head.

"I helped raise him, I met the kid back in Russia," he stated and your eyes widened. So he's a very old friend of Kieran's.

"Wait. So you know his family? His parents as well?"

"Yes. Mr and Mrs Morosov helped me back before when I lived in Italy. I became a close friend to them and grew up with Kieran, even though me and him aren't close in age at all."

You squinted. "But you look his age?"

Mathew blinked. His lips curled into a charming smile, his eyes crinkling around the edges when he laughed. "Oh really? It's always flattering to hear a pretty woman compliment my youthful appearance. Thank you, but I'm twenty-nine."

Your cheeks warmed up. He really did look young, as if he drank from the fountain of youth itself. His face was incredibly smooth (more so than yours) and you wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly told you he was an actor forced to play younger roles in movies. It was always heartwarming to see someone smile so genuinely. It was a good thing that he took that comment as a compliment, you didn't want him calling you a bitch again.

"I think that's why he hasn't told you about me," he confessed and shrugged his shoulders. "We aren't close in age, our interests are different, and he's a married man. I'm too much of a partygoer for him to hang out with me."

That made sense. Kieran has never been a party man of any sort, especially not when he was younger. Sure, he was reckless and a troublemaker, but his trouble wasn't extroverted. He'd much rather sing to himself in the shower than go to karaoke and drink with buddies. He was a risk taker who avoided risks that meant talking to others.

"I see... and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I'll be blunt, why do you want to talk to me?" You asked, crossing your hands on the table. For some reason, you felt anxious.

Mathew's slowly smile fell. He cleared his throat and fixed up his posture. "Well, it's about Kieran.”

"Oh."

This could be one of many things. Mathew could be here to snitch on Kieran about all the things he has been up to behind your back. He could tell you about a secret mistress, he could tell you about being in a gang, he could tell you about any secret that you didn't know of.

The dread you've felt this entire time trampled over you. Was it finally time? Were you finally going to get all the answers you wanted? Did you even want to hear it now? Bile rose in your throat.

"I need for you to talk to Kieran about something. He's been acting weird lately, and he trusts you more than me, so—" Mathew cut himself off when he saw your blanched-out expression. His lips pursed into a thin line. "Spit it out. You're thinking about something already."

Perceptive people always unnerved you. Swallowing down your thoughts, you wondered if he was trustworthy enough to share your worries with.

The waitress came back with the drinks. A mug was pushed in front of Mathew and he took a greedy gulp, while you nervously played with the rim of your cup. You watched the ice tilt in the coffee.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow, "If you're thinking about Kieran, we might have the same concerns."

That was true. This man was a friend of Kieran's, and you trusted that without a doubt. He even knew his parents. Maybe this was the leap of faith that you were waiting for. Even if you were nervous, you had to be at least a little brave. It wasn't like you were speaking to Kieran right now.

"...you promise you won't share any of this with Kieran?" you asked.

"Swear on my heart."

"Okay, good," you ignored the trembles in your fingers and quickly took a sip of your coffee. It wasn't that good. "Uhm, well... my concerns are—uh how do I say this?"

Mathew deadpanned as he took a huge swig of his drink. "Bluntly. Always works for me."

I hesitated. "Well then, okay, uhm—I think he might be cheating on me with someone named Sam."

He coughed. "What?"

It was like magic. The moment the words left your lips, you were spilling out your guts to him. Laying out every worry, every secret, every insecurity for him to see. Screw a therapist, now a stranger could see all the puzzle pieces on the table. You couldn't stop yourself.

"I know! I saw on his computer that he was talking to someone called Sam. Like, it could be a boy, but it could also be a woman. I know, it's bad and a shitty thing to do as a wife, I feel bad for snooping but he kept being weird and so—"

Mathew raised his hand and you buffered, but before you could blabber some more, he said, "Slow down. What are you saying?"

"I—uh.. well, I think Kieran is cheating on me with someone named Sam, and I feel bad because I snooped through his laptop—"

"You don't have to feel bad. I'd do the same if my partner or spouse was acting weird and not sharing things."

Your jaw dropped. "...you would?"

Mathew wasn't as judgmental or disgusted as you thought you would. He looked normal, like you didn't do anything wrong. He shrugged.

"Yeah? It's normal. I mean, it's not like you're suspecting him without evidence," he shrugged. "Have you asked him about it? Bluntly? You know, communication is key, or whatever the fuck therapists say."

He was right. Communication was key, that was how so many healthy relationships prospered, but in this situation—communication was scary. You didn't want to think about all the times when not communicating led to toxic situations. You running from the store out of spite, you yelling at Kieran, and you avoiding him. God, there were so many things.

You swallowed the bile in the back of your throat. You felt like vomiting. Why did you have to think about this right now? All you wanted to do was go to your lecture peacefully and come home.

"I'll take your silence as a no. Why haven't you?"

His words felt like a slap. "...I mean... like, what if he... is?"

Mathew was silent for a bit. He stared at you, examining your expression, doing his best to read what you were thinking. Finally, he let out a long sigh and motioned at you. "Then he is. It's shitty, it's fucked up, and he's a douchebag."

Damn, he wasn't lying about being blunt. You held back your excuses. You weren't sure why you immediately wanted to make defenses for yourself and Kieran. If Kieran was cheating then yeah, he was a douchebag, so there was no reason to form up a defense for him. So why did you want to?

"Well..."

"Listen to me, kid. Whether you ask him or not, nothing is going to change unless you confront him about it. If he's cheating, and I'm saying if, then he's gonna cheat whether or not you ask him. That's how cheaters are. Wouldn't you want to know either way?"

"I..." you were at a loss for words.

You didn't like the fact that he was right. He was staring at the most obvious things, but they felt so new and fresh compared to what you normally thought. Like he was shoving a cold drink in front of you and forcing you to chug it down, it was numbing to the brain.

Mathew rubbed his face and waved his hand around, trying to get his point through your thick skull. "I don't think he is, if you're going to ask for my opinion on the matter. It's just, that he has had some... issues lately. To put it lightly."

You frowned. Concern shoved the negative thoughts out of the way.

"Issues? Is he in danger? Or trouble?"

He shook his head. "Family issues. Papa Morosov has been gunning for his ass."

That didn't explain the constant disappearances from the house in the middle of the night. Especially for those long multiple-day trips he always took. But maybe it explained the cuts and busted knuckles? You hadn't a clue. Mr. Morosov wasn't in the States, was he? Mrs. Morosov would most likely want to see you if he was since the two of them always traveled together no matter what.

But you were confused. Mr. Morosov was a kind man, so why was he gunning after Kieran? And what for?

You didn't know much about Kieran's family life. He didn't talk about his experiences in Russia all that much, or London, and you now had a gut feeling it was because of his parents. You just prayed they weren't using him. They didn't seem like the type, but now the thought was there, and that meant it would go away.

"I see..." you drawled, looking down at your hands. Your nails picked together. This day started weirdly and you weren't sure what to feel about it.

There was some closure knowing that Mathew didn't think Kieran was cheating on you. If it was about his father like Mathew mentioned, would that make you feel better? You wanted Kieran to feel better, to pay attention to you, and to be happy. If his father was getting in the way of that, what would you be able to do to keep him safe? What would you be able to do to keep him sheltered from all that?

You couldn't make decisions for Kieran. That was impossible.

But, but, if he was truly getting targeted by his father for things out of his control, you'd have to do something. Use your influence as his wife to help him in some way. Then there was the other option of him cheating on you... you'd rather think about the other.

"Can I give you a piece of raw unfiltered advice?" Mathew blurted.

You looked up. "Go ahead."

"Avoidance isn't a cure to hard situations. Whether or not you're there, it's happening. The world doesn't stop just because someone pretends it is," he pointed at you and you felt your body run with chills. "It's time for you to stop avoiding, (Y/N). Time doesn't stop for you and Kieran just because you want to stay in a time when things were easier."

Your body locked up. He stared deep into your eyes, harsh and unsettling, but you supposed the truth always looked like that no matter what form it took.

A small bell went off in your head. So that was what you were trying to do. You were trying to stay in the past when things were easier, when you were a kid. You did it with Danny too. You compared Danny to his past self, but how many times have you compared Kieran to his past self as well?

"You just need to realize that relationships don't stay the same. You aren't teenagers anymore, you're adults, you're married, you have your own house. Understand?"

"...yes," you nodded slowly, ignoring the burn in your eyes. "Thank you. But let's say I do confront Kieran about... everything. I don't know—where should I—well, what I'm trying to say is, how should I talk to him?"

Mathew looked at you like you had three heads. "Just talk? Don't beat around the bush for his feelings."

You scratched at your head. "Well, I know that, but I mean—how should I bring up with him? Without hurting his—"

"What did I just say?" Mathew huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You flinched. "He's been neglecting your marriage, leaving at night, and you're worried about him being hurt about the consequences of his actions? If he gets his feelings hurt, then boo-hoo. He's a grown man neglecting his wife, he can fucking handle it."

Your lips zipped shut. "But—"

"Ask him, 'Are you cheating on me?' That's it. Five little words that form a little sentence."

It was easy when he put it like that, but each time you tried to say those 'five little words' in the past, you always clamped up. Every. Single. Time. You were starting to believe that you couldn't say that at all, maybe you were cursed and you weren't allowed to say that sentence at all.

Mathew watched your expression and his lips quirked into a goofy smile. "You rambled to me after you bumped into me, you can ramble to him. Just don't break his phone."

Your face turned hot. "I'm still so sorry—"

"Geez woman. It was a joke," he snorted and stretched his arms behind him on the booth, his smile growing. His orange sunglasses lowered on his nose and you watched his dark eyes spark with mischief. "I'd suggest joking with him when you confront him. He won't be able to lie when he hears how uptight you are."

You gaped. Did he just call me uptight?!

"Well excuse me! I'm just responsible."

"Oh? You are?" he grinned, "responsible enough to walk in a straight line without bumping into someone?"

He was quick-witted. He shot out comebacks without thinking, teasing you without a care in the world. He reminded you a lot of Kieran in that sense, only Kieran was a lot softer when it came down to teasing you. Mathew was a lump of coal, Kieran was a lump of charcoal; similar but not the same at all.

"Oh shush! I said I was sorry," I crossed my arms. "Plus you called me a bitch at first so I have every right to be uptight."

"Well, you are one."

"What?!"

He burst out laughing. His head flew back and he cackled like a madman, slapping his leg under the table. People in the coffee shop glanced at him, but he seemed to ignore all the attention, wheezing between words. "I'm kidding! My god kid, your face was glorious. Swore a fly almost flew into your mouth with how fast that jaw dropped."

Your face was burning. People always said that older brothers teased their sisters like this, and it honestly felt like it. It made sense. He was like an older brother to Kieran in a way, and now he was meeting someone who was technically like his sister-in-law. Your lips twitched up into a smile.

"Shut it. People are staring at you, I hope you know," you rolled your eyes.

"Let them. They all want me anyway."

You snorted. Mathew finished the rest of his coffee and glanced at his clock, smiling ear to ear. There was a sense of smugness around him.

"Ah. It seems I have to go. I don't want my boss beating the shit out of me for being late," he snorted. It looked like he actually believed his boss would beat the shit out of him. "Don't worry about the money, kid. I'll handle it. I'll pay for your coffee as well."

"Oh no, I can pay for my own stuff!"

"Nope!" he popped the 'p' and slid out of his booth, jumped on the balls of his feet, and rolled his shoulders back. "Now what do you say to people after they make you feel better after a depressive episode?"

So that was his goal for teasing you. It worked, you didn't feel as glum and beaten down as before. There was this sense of relief hanging over your head; with all your worries laid out, and some advice that helped you realize your own thought processes, and his abusive teasing, you felt a little better.

Not perfect; but lighter.

"I—thank you," you smiled softly. "Truly. You've helped a lot."

Mathew snickered. He said nothing before waving nonchalantly and skipping away as if talking to you made his day ten times better. How did we get from him calling you a bitch to him skipping away with a smile? It was like he came out of an old cartoon and he was the trouble-maker coyote.

You looked down at your cup. The ice was melted and the table was still warm. You failed to realize that Mathew never had a chance to share what he originally wanted to talk about. Your smile slowly fell and you took a deep breath, steadying your thoughts.

Maybe you'd talk to Kieran later.

Just maybe.

Check out my new story, DEAD & DONE!! It’s a yandere reverse harem x female reader. If you like this story, you might like this other one. It also has organized crime, gangs, and shady stuff.

Links: Wattpad, Quotev, Buy Me A Coffee, Discord Server.

I’ve thought about opening writing commissions; what do yall think? Tell me in the comments.

[breelandwalker]

Snow Moon - February 2025

Boots and mittens on, witches - it’s time for the Snow Moon!

Snow Moon

The Snow Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs during the month of February. Despite what certain groundhogs will tell you, February is the month that sees the highest rates of snowfall across much of North America, according to the National Weather Service, and many alternative names for the moon and the month in which it falls reflect this.

As with many full moon names, we find the roots of the Snow Moon among the indigenous peoples of North America. In this particular case, a colonist explorer noted in 1760 that the Naudowessie (Dakota) people called this month Snow Moon specifically due to the tendency for snowstorms to come during that month. Some other indigenous names for this moon and month refer to commonly-sighted animals. Some examples include Eagle Moon (Cree), Bear Moon (Ojibwe), Groundhog Moon (Algonquin), and Goose Moon (Haida). Another notable example is Hungry Moon (Cherokee), denoting the scarcity of available food in deep winter.

The moon will be at peak illumination at 8:53am EST on Wednesday, February 12th. It will be below the horizon at this time, meaning the moon may appear to be full on the 11th and the 12th, depending on where you live. It should be highest in the sky around midnight EST on the 12th - the perfect time for magic!

What Does It Mean For Witches?

February is a month of change and transition. Though winter still holds on, many places may be showing early signs of spring. Little buds may be coming out on the trees, certain species of birds are beginning to migrate back, and hibernating animals start to wake up and reappear.

As we begin to turn toward the end of our long winter’s rest, it’s a good time to think about how we prepare for oncoming change and how we care for ourselves and our practices during times of stagnation.

We might also contemplate the concept of distance and stasis as it relates to our practices, be it keeping long-distance bonds fresh, doing things remotely either alone or as part of a larger group, or feeling distant from your craft or your deities. And yes, such things are normal and cyclical. Our inspiration and motivation wax and wane just as the moon does. If it feels like you’ve been far away from your craft for too long, perhaps it’s time to bring it back into your orbit.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Gather fresh snow or icicles for moon water, or make your own moon ice by leaving a bowl of water out overnight to freeze, if the temperature drops low enough.

If it snows in your area, you can wish upon a snowball. Grab a handful of powdery snow, whisper your wish to it, and throw the whole thing up in the air to release the wish into the universe

With winter scarcity in mind, practice creating a minimalist spell as an exercise. Create a workable spell with as few components, words, movements, or ritual elements as possible. This is more of a challenge if you’re used to using material components or rituals in your spellwork. Many witches cast spells with focused thought or energy work alone.

You can also try creating a spell with only components and materials that you already have on hand. Explore your home and see how many items you can identify a magical purpose for and brainstorm different ways they could be used in your craft.

Explore the concept of self care as magic. Use your routines to create moments of rest and harmony, make a point of being kind to your body and your mind, and cultivate a more positive relationship with yourself - it’s the only one guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Connect with your local biome by looking for any early signs of spring in your area. Feed the returning birds and identify the plant and animal species you see around you as they appear one by one.

Happy Snow Moon, witches! 🌕❄️

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Snow Moon: Full Moon in February 2025, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Snow Moon: The Extraordinary Full Moon of February 2025, The Peculiar Brunette.

Witchcraft Exercise - Home Brews, Bree NicGarran. (Masterlist here)

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2025

Calendar-12 - 2025 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[thewritetofreespeech]

How are you?

Please, can you write Wife reader taking care of burnt Nanami that sometimes still has his burn injury uncomfortable even if it kind of healed from the incident (he didn't die, never happened) with cream and kisses and then they go to a date at night together. Enjoying eachother company! 💖

I guess Nanami still sometimes has insecurities resurface, but reader always reassures him and he does believe her. Forgetting them most of the time.

-Selenophile 🌙🌌✨

Sometimes, when Nanami was lost in thought or let his guard down for a moment, he forgot what he looked like now.

In his mind he pictured a man who was relatively handsome. Stern features. Strong jaw. Western appearance and hazel eyes. This was the man he thought he was in his mind. The image of himself. It wasn’t until he walked in front of a mirror or stepped out of the shower like now, that he remembered he wasn’t that man anymore.

“Nanami? Is everything ok?”

He heard his partner come into the bathroom, glancing at them out of his good, remaining eye, before looking back at the sink. “Yes, I’m fine.” He turned off the water. Not quite sure what he had been doing with it on; maybe planning to brush his teeth, but what was the point.

“Ok…well, let me get your ointment on and we can head to bed.” [Y/N] told him.

“I don’t want to.” Shoko had created it for him specifically. To help with the lingering pain at night and help with some of the scaring. But he would never be back to the way he was. The scars would always be there. His eye would still be gone. None of it mattered.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You say that now but in the middle of the night you won’t be able to sleep. Let me help you.”

“I said I’m fine!” Nanami snapped at them. Bristling at being taken care of. That he had to be taken care of now. He had worked so hard to be independent, get away from this stupid world of sorcery, and to be his best self. Now he was reduced to an invalid that needed his partner to rub cream on him like an old man or a baby. It was humiliating.

Nanami lifted his arm when he spoke. To bat them away or keep them at bay he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that it hurt, as lifting his arm higher than his shoulder on his damaged side right now was not ideal.

[Y/N] winced in tandem with his pain. Holding up their hands passively as Nanami went to sit on the toilet and hang his head in shame. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Nanami said at first as he stared at the tile. Eventually, however, he opened up. “Everything is different.”

“Hmm…I suppose that’s true.” [Y/N] agreed. Taking this moment of reflection & distraction to grab the ointment and apply it to his shoulder. “But I wouldn’t say everything is different. You’re still Nanami. You’re still you.”

“I can barely lift my arm over my head.”

“And a month ago you could barely walk.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After the incident, Nanami had been put in intensive care at the school for a long time. Monitored. Tube fed. Surgeries he wasn’t even aware of in his unconscious state to try and undo and stabilize some of the damage Jogo & Mahito had done to him. He had to relearn almost everything. Get his stump of a left hand to be somewhat of a semblance of a limb. Learn how to walk again with the damage done to his leg by the transfiguration. Regain some depth perception with one eye. It had been hard, grueling work, and some days Nanami thought it wasn’t worth all the fuss. Yet, he seemed too stubborn to die still.

“Things will continue to get better. We just have to keep working on them and do what Shoko says for your recovery.”

“You don’t mind being partnered with a monster.” Nanami asked as he glanced up at [Y/N], who frowned at him.

“Do you really think me that shallow?” They asked. Closing the ointment and putting it away. Finished now, between all this introspection. “You’re looks didn’t even break the top 10 on why I’m with you, Nanami. I love your determination. I love how you want to help people, even though you deny it. I love how funny you are. And most of all, I love you. Honestly, I didn’t think you were so vain until now. Maybe I need to reassess my priorities.” Nanami chuckled. Realizing they were joking and wrapped his arms around their waist.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.”

[Y/N] wrapped their arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head. “Yes, you would have. But I’m glad I could help.” Nanami tilted his head up and gave [Y/N] a full kiss. “Would you like to go to bed now?” He nodded, and went to go change out of his towel.

He knew his path to full recovery was going to be hard. That is was going to be a long process for him to be his new self. But as he laid in bed next to [Y/N], Nanami knew he could do it. Because he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 5 (Batter up)

a/n: To clarify, I do not own the rights to any pictures or names used in this story, except for Sierra Riley. All other rights and names belong to the NFL and MLB. Additionally, some characters are inspired by the game MLB The Show 24, which includes fictional characters. The title of the book is inspired by the song "It's a Man's World" by James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome, for which I also do not own the rights. All rights are held by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. and Unichappell Music, Inc. Enjoy!

If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be playing for the Atlanta Braves, I would have told you. You're lying, but here I am. After the draft, I had to fly to Florida for spring training, and then when that was over, I flew to Atlanta to sign my rookie contract, which is $380k for my first year plus a 2 million signing bonus. Then fly to Cincinnati for my first game for the season. Safe to say I've had a crazy couple of weeks. 

Oh and how fitting that Joe is throwing out the first pitch since its Reds opening day.  So it's really true what they say. It does come full circle. 

I walked out from the clubhouse into the away dugout. I noticed Joe in the batter's box swinging a bat at baseballs as they fired out the shooter and must I say he looked damn good while doing it too. 

Ok, time I come clean about something. Do I have a crush on my best friend Joe Burrow? Yes. Am I scared to tell him? Yes. Why? because if I do I'm going to make a complete fool of myself and I just do not want to risk that and possibly losing a friend.  

But friends don't text each other every day for random things or have late-night phone conversions like they used to when they were in LSU together. To sum it up over the last couple of months Joe and I have slipped back into our old ways and not that I'm complaining I just wish we were more. 

I noticed Joe had finished and might as well say hello. I walked out towards home plate catching the tail end of his conversation “I'm so proud of her…to watch her play in college I knew she was big league bound and now she's here.” I heard Joe tell my teammate Austin Riley, a third baseman. 

“There's the woman of the hour!” I hear Ja’marr call out as I make my way toward the group, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

I shake my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Stop! I'm done crying for today,” I reply, my voice tinged with a slight whine, reflecting the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.

Ja’marr looks at me with a supportive smile. “How do you feel? Are you ready for this?” he asks, his eyes filled with genuine concern. I nod slowly, trying to muster a confident expression despite my jitters. “I feel ready; I’m just trying not to overthink everything,” I admit, forcing a nervous smile.

“Sis, you’ve got this in the bag!” Ja’marr encourages, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let them cloud your mind—just play your heart out, like you do every time.” His words resonate with me, pushing back the self-doubt that threatens to creep in.

“Ri, you’ve worked your ass off for this moment,” Joe chimes in, giving me a playful nudge on my shoulder. “You’re going to absolutely kill it today! And we just happen to have front-row seats to witness your brilliance.” His enthusiasm and belief in me fill me with warmth and motivation.

Nodding, I accept their words with a grateful smile, feeling a rush of confidence. “Thanks, you guys! That really helps. But now I have to ask: what the hell is this?” I say, gesturing pointedly at the Cincinnati jerseys they are both proudly wearing. They burst into laughter, clearly thinking they could charm their way out of my noticing their blatant team allegiance.

“Hey it was a gift from them but believe me I would wore yours if I could” Ja'marr gives his excuse. I turn to Joe waiting for his.

“I'm from Ohio.” he gives the most obvious answer—typical Joe.

------

Against all odds, Joe delivered a flawless pitch after the pregame festivities and the stirring national anthem. I could feel the excitement coursing through me—this was my moment, my MLB debut.

As they called my name, I heard Joe and Ja’marr erupting with cheers from their private suite through the crowd their support only boosted my confidence and set the stage for what was about to happen.

I locked in my focus, ready to face the pitcher. He glanced at the runner on first, then turned his gaze to me and wound up for the throw.

The pitch came rushing straight at me! I instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. “One ball, no strikes.” But that wasn’t a mistake; he wanted to rattle me. Too bad for him—I’m not easily shaken. 

I reset myself, gripping the bat firmly, ready for the next challenge. The pitcher checked the runner again and delivered another pitch.

This time, he made a crucial misstep—an offspeed pitch! I saw it coming, and without hesitation, I swung with all my power. The crack of the bat was electric, and I sent that ball soaring out of the park. A home run on my very first hit! 2-0, baby! Now that’s how you make an unforgettable debut. 

-------

We won only by the skin of our teeth 5-4. I had just changed out of my away uniform into some sweets and a hoodie when I heard a knock on my locker room door. 

“It's open” I shout, not feeling like walking to the door. 

The door opens and Joe pops his head in “Hey can I come in?” 

I waved my hand “Yeah come on” 

 He steps in closing the door behind him “Getting ready to head out just wanted to say you looked great out there today” he compliments. 

“Thanks, I had to show off a bit, you know. Oh! I meant to give this back to you, but everything just happened so fast,” I said, remembering his chain that he gave to me to wear on Daft Night. But I never did give it back to him. If I remember right, I was in my gym bag. Bingo pulled it right out. 

I went to hand it back to him be he stopped me “Keep it Ri” 

 “Huh?” I said making sure I heard him right. This boy is crazy.

Joe cracked a little smile “Keep it...believe me I've got plenty”  

I looked at him to make sure he wasn't joking “You sure cause this is worth more than my signing bonus” I joked nervously.

He smiled and nodded his head “Yeah I'm sure think of it as an ‘I knew you would make it’s gift”.

I smiled “Ok no take takebacks Burrow,” I said putting back in my bag. 

“What are you doing when you leave here?” Joe asked suddenly. I shrugged my shoulders. “It's still early so I'm not really tired. Might just chill back at the hotel. Why what's up?” I answered taking a seat on the bench.

He looks at me for a second then slightly shakes his head. “Some friends of mine wanted to go out to eat and all but Ja'marr had to leave soo…” 

“You want me to go in his place?” I finished the sentence for him. 

This is not anything new. I went to a lot of Joe's events as his plus one back in LSU. And he did the same thing for me. 

“Yeah but if you want to call it a day I understand” he quickly says.

I shake my head with a laugh “No I'll go with you, Joe. Plus it would be nice to get a breather before tomorrow's game” I said, opening up my suitcase. 

“Give me a few to get changed and I'll be right out”

Joe raised his eyebrows “You really could go in what you have on” he said nonchalantly 

Is this boy out of his mind? “Joe I'm not hanging out around people I don't know in a hoodie and sweatpants,” I said looking at him all upside his head.

“Yes, you can cause one where only going to Texas Roadhouse. Two you just finished a hell of a baseball game and have a right to wear this. And if someone has a problem with it then we can go and have our own dinner” he says the confidence just flows out as he says it.

My stomach should have not tightened up but I just love how protective this man is. Biting my lip not knowing what to say except “Alright let's go”

-------

Joe was walking me up to my room after that impromptu hangout session with his friends which by the way all amazing. 

“Yeah I'm definitely paying for this tomorrow,” I said feeling like I was ready to pop. 

Joe gives out a small chuckle “Yeah that makes two of us”  

I give him this funny look “You got time to burn it off, Joe. I on the other hand have to play a game tomorrow” I said pulling out my keycard for my room. “Fair point Far point,” Joe said not disagreeing with me

Stopping in front of my room “This is me” I said turning to Joe “Thanks again for inviting me” I said suddenly nervous as I looked at him and his features pretty blue eyes, dirty blonde hair so silky you could run your fingers through it and not get tangled. To some it up this boy was fine. 

His voice knocked me out of my thoughts “No thank you for coming. I owe you one for this Ri” 

Yeah, a date.

“What’d you say” I saw Joe's eyebrows raise..Did I say that out loud could have sworn I said that in my head. 

“I didn't say anything,” I said quickly shaking my head trying to avoid this conversation at all costs.

“Nah, Nah you said something. What did you say?” he asked stepping a little closer. Looking the other way with a blush on my cheeks “I said a date” I repeat my words still not looking a him. 

He stood there with the biggest smirk on his face “I still didn't hear what you said say it again and this time” he paused to gently grab my chin “Look at me” 

Soaked absolutely Soked straight through.

Unable to move I said it again looking straight dead in his eyes “A date. You owe me a date” 

Joe nodded his head and let my chin go “That's what I thought you said” he said stepping away from me. “Ok, how about this. If you get to the World Series which I know you will I'll take you on a date” he said proposing a challenge or more like a bet. “Ok and if I don’t,” I said waiting for the catch no pun intended. 

“Then I still take you on the date’

[lizardperson]

something's missing

[on ao3]

fandom: original work rating: g wc: 627 prompt: #fff299 stranger than fiction for @flashfictionfridayofficial

---

One day you realize you don't have a shadow anymore. Which is, to say the least, somewhat unusual.

You're pretty sure you used to have one. In fact, you distinctly remember having one, sometime in the past. There were those funny little shadow plays you used to do with your grandma, making bunnies and wolves with your hands, telling stories.

But that was ages ago. Surely that wasn't the last time you saw your shadow.

You rack your brain, trying to come up with more recent moments when you might have observed your shadow, consciously. The problem with things that are supposedly always there is, they tend to blend into the background, and you are really good at tuning out the background.

But other people are usually more perceptive - surely, someone would have noticed if you had been shadow-less for some time, right? Now that you are aware of your state, it's really, really obvious.

Thing is, you don't go out much. You don't really talk to other people. Last actual human person you saw… Pizza guy! Monday! Which was a couple of days ago. And you doubt the underpaid kid bringing your food cared much about you, or if you had a shadow or not. Pretty sure he just handed you the box and grabbed the few bucks tip without even looking at you. Totally understandable, it's not like you're particularly interesting.

Okay, so you lost your shadow at some point between your childhood and now. Probably closer to 'now'. At least you try to tell yourself that it must be a recent development. You're not that oblivious to your surroundings. You think.

A cursory internet search doesn't help. There's a few creatures from literature and mythology that don't have a shadow, apparently - most famously, vampires.

You're pretty sure you're not a vampire. Teeth look normal, and the thought of blood makes you more nauseous than hungry. And didn't you eat something with lots of garlic the other day? Also, you can still see your reflection in the mirror. Vampires have neither a reflection nor a shadow. Supposedly. If they were real. Which of course they aren't.

You're are real though, and not fictional. Presumably.

You aimlessly scroll for a while, low-key hoping for some kind of self-help forum post, where you'd learn that a bunch of people have that issue and here's how to fix it. No luck. Either you are the only one having this little predicament, or everyone else just doesn't want to talk about it.

Whatever. It's not like this really seems like a problem or anything, right? Like, what do you need a shadow for anyway? You don't feel any different, or sick, or like there is actually something wrong. You're not missing any vital organ. Probably. Who knows, maybe it has been like this for years after all and you never noticed, and you're still alive and well. It's a bit weird, sure, but it's not like being weird has ever bothered you.

You decide it's probably fine. Should there be any "adverse effects" of your current status, you will deal with it then. But right now it doesn't seem like there's any reason to panic, and it's not like you can do anything. You will just go on with your life as usual, and ignore this. You're good at ignoring things.

Over the next few months, you sometimes find random postcards in your mailbox. They are all from places you always wanted to go, but never got around to somehow. Apart from your address, there's nothing written on them. Funny, the handwriting almost looks a bit like your own. Maybe some old friend from your past, thinking of you for whatever reason. Been a while since you had friends…

[sroloc--elbisivni]

so fun fact. as of today it has been 10 years since I made an AO3 account.

In that time, I’ve written and posted close to a million words—the count is hovering at around 960k at the moment. I had vague intentions of trying to get over that by today’s anniversary, but it wasn’t in the cards—I do have a faint hope I can swing it by the end of the year, since I’ve completed my more professional writing projects.

It’s weird and wild to think about where I was when I made this and how far I’ve come since. I was in high school, in Maine, mostly looking for a place to cross-post my DC fic from ff.net. Since then, fanfic has remained more or less my primary hobby. I’ve made a lot of friends, some of them for life, others just to share a really fun space with for a few months or a year before we went back to only seeing each other in passing, fondly. I’ve gotten SO much better at writing—and I’ve never even deleted anything, since my 13 year old self’s self indulgent OC fic never did make it off ff.net. I’ve had a really good time. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve left a presence behind me to prove I was here, I’ve been here—I was explaining to my mother once how my process of making new online friends works, and how my credentials for entry are, basically, ‘see? i’ve been here a while. i’ve invested myself in this space. you can trust that I know how to behave.’ i can’t consider myself a Fandom Old, but i’m at least Fandom Established.

I hoped to have a one shot or something ready to go, so I can leave the date marked on my profile, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen. so I’ll stick to a vaguely sappy reflective post. here’s to another ten years and a lot more words.

[thatdesklamp]

Hello, and (for the moment) ‘see you in a while’ from old desklamp.

(Quick edit now I’ve written this all out: Oh, lordie—I’ve just realised that this sounds like I’m announcing I’m giving up on IW. I’m not! I promise. This is all about how I’m trying to facilitate my writing process. IW is not being dropped: let’s get that out of the way first, lmao.)

Hello all! I’ve been doing some self-reflecting, and I’ve come up with this: I’ve struggled with writing ‘Intrinsic Warmth’ for a long time now.

Alll too often I’ve been sat with my laptop for hours having only managed to squeeze out one or two paragraphs that I don’t even like all that much anyway. I haven’t felt satisfied by writing for a long time, and so I just haven’t written anything. It’s been months since I’ve written something worth reading for IW, and I’ve been having a think as to why.

I think it comes down to two things; I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure in writing IW, and I’ve become too fixated on the instant gratification of feedback from you guys.

First: the pressure. IW has gotten bigger than I ever considered it would be, especially recently (as in, in the jjk season 2 era). The support and feedback continues to blow me away, and I’m staggered every time I stop to actually consider the magnitude of the response that IW has gotten. It’s genuinely crazy.

All that is to say: I wasn’t prepared for this!! I don’t mean that in any resentful way at all, I want to be clear. Moreso that it’s easy to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. I know that, relative to other huge ao3 fics, IW isn’t even that huge. But I also recognise that in the ‘Gojo x reader scene’, it’s pretty up there, even if we’re just looking through a ‘filter by most kudos’-ed fic angle. There’s a been big response, and I’m just one person, lmao. But come on, I absolutely love it, and I’m so grateful that people have enjoyed the stuff I’m writing—but as more and more people have been picking it up I’ve felt a definite pressure put upon me. It’s a pressure to write well, and to write more, and to write good things more often. This isn’t to do with anything anyone’s said, don’t worry, but more as an expected consequence of IW picking up traction.

I feel more and more like a ‘popular author’, and feel like I’m doing you guys a disservice with my infrequent updates. I truly do appreciate the reassurance of ‘you can update whenever you want!’, genuinely, but I’m also an ao3 reader myself! I empathise with and understand the frustration that must be felt when I go months between updates. Writing has never come at the expense of my personal, academic or social life (hence why I’ve never tried to tie myself down with an update schedule: I’d never be able to keep to it), and I’d never want it to. I want to keep writing as it’s always been: one of my hobbies. But as IW increases in popularity, it feels like it almost *should* take priority over other things, and this has left me feeling pretty overwhelmed.

My second reason: I’ve also become a tad too dependent on feedback. When IW was in its fledgling stages, I didn’t show it to anyone at all, and was ‘writing for myself’ in the barest sense of the phrase. Only one of my irl friends has read any of it, and when I was first uploading it, when I had about 5ish comments per chapter, any feedback I was getting would always be secondary to my own. I was writing for myself, because I enjoyed writing and I enjoyed what I was writing about, and it just so happened that there were a few people who felt the same as me.

It’s very different now! And I much prefer it now—it’s every writer’s dream to have had such an overwhelmingly positive response to their writing. And now it gets to the point where I can check my emails, or look at my tumblr notifications, and there’ll always be new for me. And whilst I absolutely love this, it’s pretty addictive, checking again and again, seeing what people are saying. This positive response from others is more instantly gratifying than the slow, steady, personal enjoyment I get from writing.

It sounds silly, I know, but I’ve been writing this hunger games fic (completely spontaneous, likely never to be published), and no-one’s read it but me, and it’s reminded me how much I really do like writing. I’ve loved the process of writing it, because the only person whose opinion I’m listening to is my own.

I don’t want to discourage people from reaching out to me, leaving comments, even talking about IW, anything like that. That’s not what I mean. But this is me recognising that I should probably take a step back from the non-writing side of writing: being active on tumblr, constantly checking asks, making posts, etc. Know that whilst I may not immediately respond to you, once I get back in the swing of things over here, I will do. I just need to sort out my personal priorities a bit, I think.

Saying this, I know I haven’t been all that active recently (this has honestly been intentional: I’ve been trying to wean myself off it, lmao) but for the immediate future, I’m making that more definite: I’m going to try to revert my focus to writing. I’m going to stay off tumblr for a bit, until I’ve gotten back into the swing of writing and don’t find myself so focused on the feedback side of it all. Hopefully this’ll spark up some more genuine passion in me! Please know that if you’ve written an ao3 comment, I have read it. I don’t know when I will respond to them, but I definitely will, I just want to keep my focus on the personal side of writing for the moment.

Thank you to everyone! Again, this is just me going off the grid for a while: not a big fuckoff goodbye or anything. If this is unreasonably theatrical, blame my drama GCSE. Going off to do some writing now. See you guys!

[spectrechosts]

Self Love

This one is pretty recent. Vampire and her haunted reflection, being a lil gay for eachother through the barrier of a mirror. I don't have any followup chapters written but I think I'll write more with them at some point.

False Reflections, as far as Della is aware, are one of the sneakier forms a ghost can take.

No tossing things, no 'GET OUT' written in blood, no transparent figures- just a slight offness on the edge of your mind, gnawing at you. Movements not quite how you think they should look, eyes wide open when you blink. Little things that build over years and years until you've gone mad.

The subtleties of this performance are sadly lost on Della; who sees that she has a reflection at all, points out her fangs in the mirror, makes a rude gesture, turns the mirror around, and goes to bed with the firm resolve to deal with that later.

'Dealing with that later' then turns into 'Researching ghosts' then turns into 'Researching other apartments', because the False Reflection isn't attached to the mirror it's attached to the place and that's a whole pain in the ass that simply chucking the mirror in a dumpster wouldn't have been.

The apartment is, frankly, too good to give up. Not everyone gets to be an old money vampire, some people are using their eternally twenty-three visage to hide the ghastly truth that they are, gasp, twenty-seven, and just as fucked by the economy as every other zillennial. The rent is cheap, it's near her job, and she doesn't even know if undisclosed hauntings are valid grounds to break her lease.

So she puts a mirror in every room and embraces that she has a roommate.

~

Della gets home from work and her reflection waves at her while she takes off her shoes, a second before she waves at it.

They've made… some amount of progress, in these first few months. Communication is difficult, but they have an arrangement. Neither of them wants a priest coming around.

Her reflection doesn't try to keep the ruse going, so at the very least they're on the same page there.

She grabs herself a pack of AB- from the fridge and brews a cup of tea, then takes them both into the living room. She bites into the pack and puts down the tea, watches her reflection pick it up and drink it in the mirror as it sits on the coffee table and cools.

She doesn't know if that actually does anything for the ghost, or if it's just nice to go through the motions.

Settling on something to watch is easy enough. She scrolls through options while keeping her reflection in the corner of her eye, watching her reactions until she finds something they both want.

Now, before she starts it, she does want to talk to the ghost, which is… tricky.

The mirror, obviously, makes no sound that Della can hear. The False Reflection can hear, apparently, but it can't hear her. The TV, for example, exists in her reflected world and makes all the sounds it's expected to. She however does not, replaced by the ghost. They can only see eachother through the mirrors.

She brings out a notepad and pencil, and her reflection rolls its eyes.

"Do you mind if I try on some outfits later?" She writes, and holds the pad up to the mirror.

Her reflection writes on her own pad, holds her answer up and looks away. Della takes a moment to parse the mirrored letters.

"It's your body."

A reflection is, admittedly, rather useful to have. Nobody wants to go out with a bit of blood smeared on their lips, and it's nice to be able to see how your clothes work together. But it's weird when your reflection is in itself a person with their own stuff going on but no real… agency. She can move, Della can leave the TV on for her when the ghost feels like it, but neither of them can make her not Della's reflection.

And that's, as she said, weird, when you're trying on clothes and now the ghost is naked because you're naked. It's doubly weird when the ghost gets all… blushy, about it. Della is cool with that, her reflection can admire and blush to her heart's content, but she can't just put the ghost into that position without asking.

"You're the one that has to stand there and watch." She writes.

"Why would that be a problem?" The ghost replies, evasively.

"Are you about to 'we're both girls' me?"

"I don't know what that means. We are both girls"

Della rolls her eyes.

"FYI, I'm a lesbian."

The ghost reads that and goes pink, scribbles and tears out multiple messages from her notepad.

"I don't know what that is. Is that some modern thing?"

Della breathes slowly through her nose as she puts her thumb and finger to her temple.

"This building finished construction in 1993."

"Irrelevant."

Della sighs. Okay, fine.

"Tell you what, I'll turn the bedroom mirror around between outfits. Just in case anyone would get embarrassed."

"You don't have to do that!" Her reflection scrawls hastily.

"I won't… if you ask me not to."

Her reflection goes pink again.

"I swear it's not for creepy reasons! You're just very pretty and I was caught offguard and didn't know what to do! I can be normal!"

Della laughs.

"You're physically incapable of creeping on me, I'm the one choosing to change in front of you. Be as abnormal as you like." She writes, making a mental note to get some nice underwear to try on for her.

[charmwasjess]

So, let's say George Lucas was more self aware producing/directing the prequels and hired you to reign him in/keep him on track. How would the prequels be different?

What a fucking FUN question. :D I've been chewing over this in my inbox for a couple days.

Honestly you couldn't pay me enough to write for Star Wars, and that's not just because I'd be fired on my second day for making it so gay. I think there absolutely are problems in the prequels, but I also think no matter what films they made, it was going to be a difficult tango of trying to keep an existing fanbase happy while attracting new ones, doing the old story homage but also not just retreading stale territory, and the fact that an entire generation came up with headcanons for what the Clone Wars or young Obi-Wan or Vader was like in that era, and no matter what you do, someone was going to be disappointed.

I also have a ton of sympathy for Star Wars writers in general - I see stories like Mike Chen who wrote the Brotherhood novel having to get the book together in three months over 11 drafts or the Rebels writers working unpaid nights and weekends to try to land the story they loved decently because they weren't given enough time or money. I don't know what it's like to write or create content for Lucasfilm, but I can't help but think of Warren Fu, who created the iconic General Grievous design for Lucas, later drawing himself as Sifo-Dyas being drained of blood to create Grievous. The metaphor he chose there is, um, interesting, to say the least, and I wonder how it reflects on his time at Lucasfilm. I see these anecdotes all the time of writers and creators working incredibly hard for little money or recognition and then their passion project gets changed or sidelined by the powers that be within the franchise.

ANYWAY THAT SAID HERE'S HOW I'D FIX THE PREQUELS- I think it's really a matter of redrafting what's there because so much of it is really good and has great potential. I just rewatched the Phantom Menace, so that's on my mind. Yeah, I remember being little enough that Jar Jar Binks was funny to me - I love Ahmed Best - but having just rewatched it, Jar Jar gets a ton of screentime and that could be better balanced. AND oofa-doofa, the racist accents/stereotypes. Cut cut cut. Rework.

Otherwise, I think there's a tendency - and some of it was the popular movie tropes at the time the films were going out - to rely on Idiot Plot. OOPS, Anakin didn't mean to go to the big space battle!!! He just won the day on accident!! To a lesser degree, many other characters make it through the movie by just sort of guessing and lucking their way into it as a narrative choice. Just going by the fact that the films need to be about the good guys losing because it's a prequel for a saga with no Jedi, I'd like a little bit more agency for them. More moments of saying "yes, I want to do this" and less "wow, what the hell is going on?!"

The other big change I'd make is give Obi-Wan a much larger role in the Phantom Menace, and Padme a bigger part in both AotC and especially RotS. (Actually, she really kicks ass in TPM. That moment where she shoots through the window and the duel of the fates music swells? Ascension guns!! I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it.) I think Anakin is the most sympathetic when he's seen through the eyes of characters who love him and vouch for him. And Obi-Wan is honestly barely in TPM - it's all Qui-Gon, who I love, but I could see the film being really successful through him as our perspective/focus character instead. The way that Luke Skywalker takes us with him on this adventure and shows us the story. Obi-Wan could do that very effectively. And as much as the prequels are about Anakin's fall, they're also ultimately a story of Obi-Wan's survival.

And I'd cut Count Dooku, for no reason other than I don't like how weird I got about that guy.

[jerzwriter]

New Perspective

My entry for @choicesjanuary2024 Day Two: Reflection, Resolutions, Writing a letter to future self, reflecting on aspirations for the year(s) ahead.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (MC) Featuring: Jackie Varma, Bryce Lahela, SIenna Trinh, Elijah Greene Category: Fluff with a dash of angst Rating: Teen Words: 1,200 Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and the friends stop by Tobias & Casey's before heading out for the night. Once they leave, Casey struggles to say goodbye to her old life as she looks forward to the new. A/N: This story takes place on New Year's Eve 2022 (into 2023). roughly a year and a half after the end of Book 3. It's a month and a half after Tobias & Casey were married.

It was only seven thirty on New Year’s Eve, but the festive mood at Casey & Tobias’s townhome would lead most to believe midnight was moments away. Festively dressed friends bedecked in sequins and satin filled the room as their chatter and laughter filled the air. The drinks were flowing, at least for some.

“Lahela, hand that bottle of Azul back to me before I’m forced to break your hand and your surgical career.”

Bryce smirked mischievously as he toyed with the ornate blue and white bottle, pretending to drop it, which almost put Jackie into cardiac arrest.

“What the hell are you doing!” She hollered. “Don’t you dare spill that!”

Sipping a large glass of Moscato with a giggle, Sienna was amused. “Jackie, no need to worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of tequila at Donahue’s later.”

“Yeah, but not this tequila! Do you have any idea how much this shit costs?”

“Why do you think she came here at all,” Casey teased. “It’s strictly for the expensive booze. Free expensive booze."

“Damn right!” Jackie confirmed, to the amusement of her hosts. 

Tobias was sprawled out on an oversized chair in a slightly removed corner of the room, his new wife happily seated upon his lap. While the others looked like they could step onto the pages of Vogue, Tobias and Casey were more suited for the holiday edition of Good Housekeeping. While Casey swirled sparkling cider around in her red plastic cup, Tobias lifted his crystal tumbler and motioned Jackie’s way.

“Think you could pass that down here when you’re done?” He asked

“I’ll be done when it's empty,” she replied, playfully kissing the bottle. “I’m sorry, money bags, but you’re sitting over there all happy with the love of your life. I’ll be damned if I let you separate me from mine!”

“I’d let it go,” Elijah laughed. “I think she may go feral if you try to pry that bottle from her hands.”

“That’s OK,” Tobias shrugged. “I'd rather have a beer anyway.”

Casey downed the last of her cider just before he stood up.

“Want a refill, sweetheart?”

Casey frowned and glumly stared into her cup. “More apple juice. Yey!”

“What are you doing with that Solo cup while the rest of us have the fancy crystal, anyway?” Jackie chastised. “You need to up your game, MacTavish...uh, Carrick.”

But Casey just shrugged as she settled back into the fluffy chair. “If I’m drinking juice on New Year’s Eve, I might use a sippy cup.”

She tried to play it off as a joke, but the tone of her voice had Sienna’s brows knitting in concern. Her eyes met Tobias’s, and he offered a half-smile and an affect that let her know he had it under control. Twenty minutes later, he ushered the semi-buzzed friends out the door. They were off to a night of revelry, but the newlyweds had different plans. Stepping in from the foyer, he placed another log on the fire before heading to Casey. He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled into his chest, her hand clasping his old Hopkins sweatshirt.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he asked sincerely. “You haven’t been yourself tonight... wanna talk about it.”

“No,” she answered at once, then had an immediate change of heart. “Yes. I mean... no.”

“OK,” Tobias chuckled. Turning to look at her directly, he continued. "Now, I’m not giving you a choice. What’s up, baby?”

“It’s just...” she tossed her hands in exasperation, then sat back with a sigh. “It’s just that it’s New Year’s Eve, and look it me? I’m wearing sweats that I normally wouldn’t answer the door in, you’re in that ratty old sweatshirt, and I’m practically drinking a juice box.”

“Hey!” He said defensively, “You always liked this sweatshirt.”

Grateful for the levity, Casey smiled, and her mood lightened a bit.

“Forgive me. Your big ol’ pregnant wife is hormonal and moody. In other words, it’s a day that ends in -y.”

“Hey, stop talking shit about my wife,” he said, pulling her closer. “I won’t have that from anyone, not even you.”

Lovingly caressing her hair, he started to think of solutions. “Do you want to join them at Donahues?” he asked. “We’re not exactly banished.”

She shook her head no. “It’ll be packed, not exactly conducive for a pregnant chick. The roads are too dangerous tonight, and, besides, last year, there were so many amateur drunks. If I end up puking, I don’t want any competition.”

“OK, but we could pick up the mood around here if you want. I thought we were going to get dressed up. Break out the good china? Then you told me to stay in my sweats.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That's because I didn’t fit into the dress I bought.”  Rubbing her swollen belly, she looked up dolefully. “Our baby’s little growth spurt made it clear they wanted mommy to be comfy, not sexy, tonight.”

“Oh, well, the baby better up their game then because mommy is sexy-as-hell. Nothing they can do to change that.”

She gave a little laugh and took his hand in hers. “I’ll be fine. It’s just that life has changed so much. Last year at this time, the two of us were out painting the damn town red, and now...I don’t know.”

“Well, our little one here was a surprise,” he said while playing with the band on her ring finger. “And I’m sure you weren’t planning on being saddled down with me this soon.”

“Stop!” Casey said playfully hitting his arm. “You know I love being your wife. I love you... and I can’t wait for our baby to arrive. It’s just...” her voice trailed, “I feel like no matter what I say, I'm going to sound ungrateful, and I’m not.”

“Casey, our lives have changed a lot in a short period of time. It’s OK to miss what’s gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re unhappy with where you are. I feel that way sometimes, too.”

“You do?” She asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m allowed, too.”

“I suppose, but in fairness, you got to have a lot more debaucherous New Year’s than me, old man! And besides, I’m the human incubator, not you.”

With a beguiling smile, he held her hand tighter, lovingly placing the other atop her bump. “I appreciate you being the human incubator more than you’ll ever know. So much that I’m going to let that old man comment pass, and I’m still going to spoil the shit out of you tonight.”

“You will,” she said with a genuine smile this time.

“Of course. I made your favorite steak burritos, and I even got you cannolis from Bova’s.”

The fireplace crackled, its dim light casing a romantic glow as she reached over and kissed his ear. “I was thinking there are some other ways you could spoil me, too.”

She didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning. “Now you’re talking my language. But you still have to eat first. Want to rest here while I finish dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

With a quick hug and peck on her forehead, Tobias was off to the kitchen, and Casey had an idea. She went down the hall to the den, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began to write.

When Tobias returned with a tray of food in his hand, to his delight, he found his wife was in a completely different state of mind. He kissed her forehead with a smile.

"You look better, was it the thought of my steak burritos, or...," he wiggled his brow. "Is it thought of my burrito after that did the trick?"

"It's you," she laughed, pulling him close for a kiss. "It's you... and me. Honestly, this New Year's Eve is probably one of the best ones I'll ever have."

With a relieved breath, he kissed her once more, joy on his face when it ended.

"Well, I know it's the best one of mine," he smiled. "Because I have all I need."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[samthehyena]

A longwinded post about how I've been feeling frustrated and tired as a femslash author

Just crossposting my recent vent post from dreamwidth since I know that some of my togachako friends have been going through similar frustrations. So I thought that who knows maybe this could help make anyone else with similar frustrations about BNHA femslash feel a little less alone.

Lately, I've been reflecting a lot on writing femslash in the BNHA fandom. I don't know, I've just been growing more frustrated with the discrepancy between how well M/M fics do compared to F/F fics.

I’ll start out with how I ended up writing a lot of F/F fics to begin with. BNHA is probably one of the first fandoms where I initially shipped mostly M/M ships rather than mainly F/F ships. It was a little bit of a shift for me given that before I started reading/writing fics on AO3 I was a shipper in fandoms where femslash ships were more prominent than in BNHA (think She-Ra or Adventure Time featuring Bubbline).

Anyways, I entered the fandom in roughly November 2022 and I was reading a lot of the very popular longfics for BNHA for the first handful of months after I got into the fandom. One of said longfics was a quirkless Izuku in fic in which there was background Inko/Midnight but Inko died before Midnight could propose. And that moment struck a chord with the tragic yuri lover in me – and I was determine to write at least one fic in which Inko and Nemuri could be happy together without their love ending in tragedy.

Thus, my fourth fic ever (if memory serves) was a self-indulgent one shot in which Inko was a cop and Midnight was a thief. And there was a very thoughtful comment and bookmark on that fic that made me overjoyed because I could see that someone else loved Inko/Midnight as much as I did. So I did what I still often do and browsed through the bookmarks of people who bookmarked that fic (after all people who like my stuff are likely to have similar fanfic tastes to me) – and behold I found so many yummy BNHA femslash recs. That’s when I realized that there ARE BNHA femslash fics out there – I just had to work harder and know where to look.

Flash forward to the summer of 2023 (ah the good old days of olden times) and I hopped onto the togachako renaissance train after the togachako chapters dropped. After all, I’ve always been a sucker for hero/villain and stories of redemption (coughs in catradora shipper). And at first posting for togachako felt so explosively rewarding. Knowing that femslash fics typically do not get as much engagement as say M/M fics, I was so amazed and overjoyed to see my first few togachako fics get comparable reader engagement when placed beside my other fics.

Heck, my most fic with the most kudos was a togachako multi chap I started posting when there was a big boom in new togachako shippers in the following months.

But with time the tides turned. By November the togachako oneshots I was posting did not get as many comments or kudos as my first few togachako fics did. And it was a bit discouraging to see the increasing disparity between my femslash fics and other fics especially since I like writing F/F the most of all. Still, I pushed forward because I’d see the returning readers in my kudos email and I had friends to cheer me on when I was feeling discouraged.

Eventually continuous togachako server drama ended up chipping away at my resilience (to no fault of the mod team – they are wonderful). I won’t go deep into it because it’s convoluted and not necessary to make my point. I’ll just touch on the two straws that broke the camels back after months of poor behavior that the mod team I was a part of had to mediate.

One day there was a comment someone made about there “not being enough new togachako fics after chapter 428 was dropped.” And that comment made quite frustrated since in my opinion at least there was a bit of a jump in togachako fics after the epilogue chapters dropped (I highly recommend this comphet fic and this fix-it fic oneshot). Also togachako writers worked FAST there was so much new togachako angst posted after chapter 428 that helped me heal from how sad I was about the outcome. Heck, I also posted an angsty togachako fic within 48 hours after spoilers for chapter 428 dropped.

Anyways, the comment made me feel like the work femslash writers were putting in was being underappreciated. Of course I get it that it can be tricky to filter for togachako fics that are more than a background pairing – but there are fics out there. Also, sorry to be a cynic here… I don’t think it’s realistic to expect as much of a boom in togachako fics as in summer 2023 where there were a bunch of new togachako fans whereas rn the bulk of togachako fics are being written by ppl who have already been togachakos for a bit.

I know that the comment was not meant to be a personal attack by any means but as someone who is a relatively prolific togachako writer idk I felt like the work I put in was being ignored. Not that I expect ppl who ship togachako to read my stuff because seriously there are a lot of togachako writers out there more adept than I am. It just instigated me guilt-tripping myself. I tried so hard to uplift the togachako community – I love making togachako rec lists and putting togachako recs in my author’s notes. I make sure to comment on togachako fics and read togachako fics regularly even when I’m tired and am lacking the reading/commenting spoons. Because I love femslash so much and I want F/F writers to know that they are valued and appreciated and how fucking cool I think their stories are.

So I fell down a spiral of thinking that my writing wasn’t good enough, that my efforts to uplift the togachako community weren’t good enough, that I wasn’t good enough. There’s a part of me that so badly wants to be like the femslash writers I admire – to inspire, motivate and induce brainrot – but I felt like I was failing. Like all the work I was putting in was pointless. All I could see was how clunky I perceive my writing style is. How a lot of my togachako fics weren’t innovative enough and kept treading the same ground.

And I really aspire to become the kind of togachako writer that avid togachako readers might recognize and be like “Oh samthehyena? That name sounds sorta familiar”. But that whole mental spiral just left me doubtful that “breaking into the ship” is in the cards for me.

On the other hand, I feel so privileged that Dear Google has gotten a lot of traction. It is such a privilege to have such a sizable readership for a togachako-centric longfic – especially since I know a lot of fanfic readers are apprehensive about reading longfics so I am so grateful for being given a chance and all the outward support I’ve gotten. I am so happy and grateful that I have a femslash fic that’s going so well – without it I would’ve reached the extent of frustration I am feeling right now much sooner.

Yet even though I have the privilege of Dear Google’s readership, I often yearn for more engagement with the bulk of my togachako fics. Because heaven knows that I’ve written a good handful of togachako fics and my femslash works in general that didn’t get comments at all or only after many months later – and I know it’s not all about the stats. That’s not what transformative works are I supposed to be about – I know, I know it’s supposed to be about the act of creation and exploring characters we already love further. I guess it’s just tough to put sth out there and hear crickets. I feel like I’m screaming into the void at times.

Added to that I was helping to run a togachako exchange for which a lot of people hadn’t turned in their assignments on time and we weren’t able to gather enough pinch hitters together. So me and another mod were struggling to crank out a bunch of pinch hits last minute. Writing four fics for that exchange was not by choice. I was already burnt out from doing too many fandom events and writing so many fics out of a sense of obligation rather than a burst of creative energy crushed me mentally.

Ultimately, I think taking on all of those pinch hits was a moment of clarity for me. The stress of that situation left me sobbing on the floor in front of my parents and I couldn’t even tell them why I felt so overwhelmed since I only talk to my brother, friends and occasionally my sister about my fanfic stuff. That’s when I realized that I needed to take a step back from being as involved with the togachako community to the extent that I have been for the past year. Because as much as I love the ship, as much as I want to do my part to uplift the femslash community, I cannot to so at the expense of my own wellbeing. Especially because the negative online interactions had made me start to resent togachako – and I do not want to lose my passion for one of my fav ships the way I did with Shindeku last year due to people behaving badly online.

So I took a step back and narrowed down the places where I exchanged with togachako to the online nooks where I did not feel emotionally drained. And I’ve been starting to heal a little. The new NSFW togachako oneshot has been really healing in that process. Because this fic doesn’t feel like a chore to write the way those exchange pinch hits did – it’s tailored to my tastes and I feel like I’m finally breaking out of the monotony that’s been present in a lot of the togachako oneshots I posted in the last few months. It’s starting to feel more like it did when I was just getting started with writing fanfics – everything was exciting and new and I wasn’t as chained to my comfort zone yet. So writing angst and smut when I usually write crack and sfw stuff has been challenging, a little scary but also exciting. And although the fic doesn’t exactly have many readers (yet) I still feel like it has value to people other than myself. The comments that this multi chap means a lot to me because it makes me feel like I’m developing a better understanding of people who like the same things that I do. Because while I do write for myself, I share because of a desire to contribute to a sense of community.

Sometimes it helps to remind myself that my favorite things I have written tend to be my femslash fics. When it comes to reading my own writing I end up being self-critical and I have a hard time enjoying the act of reading my works because all I can see are the shortcomings. The drafting process is what brings me the most joy moreso than the act of creating stuff I’d like to read. Some notable exceptions are my HungerGames!Togachako AU and my Bachelor!Inko/Midnight AU fics. They just scratch an itch in my brain and fill a niche I yearn for in a way that I can overlook how much I cringe at my pitfalls as a writer (mostly typos – a lot of typos). And even though those specific fics didn’t get as much attention as I wish they had – didn’t get the kind of traction they would have if they were M/M fics – I still love them to bits. And my favorite things I’ve written are something that ground me. A reminder that first and foremost my writing is supposed to bring me joy.

Despite all my frustrations, I don't regret taking the leap to writing mostly femslash. I appreciate Ice especially, my beloved supporter and enabler for all things femslash. Without her I don't think I would have been brave enough to switch to mostly writing femslash no matter how passionate I've always been about WLW stories. It can feel a little lonely posting F/F especially when the reader engagement compared to my M/M fics and even a good portion of my gen fic is much more limited. So seriously Ice I love you so much. I appreciate how you're always happy to Iisten to me ramble and you make me feel like my femslash writing has value and can resonate with people even if it does not always reach as wide of a readership as I would hope. You are my number one cheerleader when it comes to my fics and I am so glad to have you in my life.

So who knows what’s next? Probably no togachako oneshots for a while from me let alone event fics (save for the one that’s already written). But I still feel passionate about the togachako multi chaps because they challenge me and have stuff that is new and exciting to me that I haven’t necessarily read/written before. I guess for the foreseeable future I’ll focus on Knee Deep In the Passenger Seat and Dear Google because I’m still fixated on the stories that can only be told in longform rather than shorter oneshots.

And mayhaps I’ll even expand to other fandoms. Descendants 4 brainrot has been festering in my brain – there are some high quality femslash ships with enemies to lovers and tragic yuri vibes and I am obsessed. Also, since the movie literally came out last month I need to get to it and crank out more femslash descendants fics :DDD (cinderella/queen of hearts only has 22 fics when I checked yesterday so it’s high time i fan the flames of this precious rarepair)

[seraphbliss]

mar. 20

got a thing for long-form logs on a 10 day cycle, i think. it's decent enough pacing, in my opinion. all the stuff that i was anticipating in my last full entry, did happen! also including the horrors. it's been a very emotionally taxing month. every other day i've been given more reasons to not miss much about my current circumstances.

i got to watch mickey 17 in theaters. definitely a great watch, especially for $6 and an empty theater. i loved this movie so much. i think it shows that film is an art form before it's a business. most importantly, the movie is great because it's not saying anything. not to say it's completely apolitical (especially w the elon musk + trump mashup that was marshall) but it's certainly not the point of the film. i love that it really hones in on building the world that the characters are in and lets the audience ponder on how it reflects our world. loved the casting and character dynamics. mickey being a silly boyfailure loser with a dorky voice an absolutely whipped for his girlfriend truly made my day. i'm not sure if the movie itself was funny or if mine and @/miotxro 's commentary in the was making it funny but i definitely enjoyed myself. it's nice to see the main love interest be black and canonically dating the lead, survive, and also stand up as a character without just being a lover to the lead. there were so many intimate moments that had nothing to do with the sex (still gas, first unnecessary sex scene that i'm not mad at. #puriteen) that just had me awwing and me and whoing. mickey and nasha are truly the only straight people to exist. a silly scifi with satire that understands its audience. i would say this movie is camp but it's not bad at all. would recommend!

i think i'm into letting shit go now. i don't recall if i've ever discussed my romantic life here but it's generally boring, especially right now. who would've thought an "underground musician" would be pretentious about what other people listen to? that's one of my biggest icks. i hate when people treat rap especially as a lower art form (or not acknowledge it as one at all). people like that bore me. they don't have the range to appreciate music for what it is. ironically, it came from a conversation about music by playboi carti. i did enjoy the album, but i found it bloated and the lack of bridges and third (sometimes second) verses take a lot away from the project. i expected something with a better developed sound and general vision given the wait. wlr > music. i gave it a solid 5/10. my favorites were pop out, opm babi, and fine shit.

my english class is such a fucking drag. i really love writing (obviously) and i'd become a journalist if it didn't mean i'd be risking getting shot on a regular basis. the texts aren't engaging (nor tied to topics relevant to the text or english at all??? lots of aimless lessons) and we're expected to write analyses and essays with this weird format. i think writing an essay following a template is ridiculous to begin with, but especially when said template oversimplifies writing to be absolutely redundant. in an honors class taught by a college prep teacher i should not have to write like my intended audience is five years old.

my chiodos hoodie did in fact arrive. worth the $73. totally cannot wear it in school, especially since i already get stopped by security guards so often, but i'll get some good wear out of it at home and at work. although, i generally go topless at home #boychest. every time i think about top surgery i get all giddy and blushy and excited like i'm crushing on someone. maybe it's self-infatuation. either way, i don't care. i deserve to glaze myself. speaking of work, though, it's time for me to leave. i've got an interview at the racetrack next week after midterms. working in the mall has been interesting, though. a couple of people came rollerblading through my store during my last shift. it's stuff like that that makes me want to stay, but my pay is absolutely abysmal. having a hellish weekend and then just having a $100 check has to be illegal in some way. they do owe me money though, i just have to figure out how to get it. i also met the new manager last weekend. he's just some guy, don't really have an opinion on him. ready to leave, still.

the end of this month is looking like change. i hope i can enjoy my spring break when it comes. hoping to relax.

[breelandwalker]

Snow Moon - February 23-24, 2024

Boots and mittens on, witches - it's time for the Snow Moon!

Snow Moon

The Snow Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs during the month of February. Despite what certain groundhogs will tell you, February is the month that sees the highest rates of snowfall across much of North America, according to the National Weather Service, and many alternative names for the moon and the month in which it falls reflect this.

As with many full moon names, we find the roots of the Snow Moon among the indigenous peoples of North America. In this particular case, a colonist explorer noted in 1760 that the Naudowessie (Dakota) people called this month Snow Moon specifically due to the tendency for snowstorms to come during that month. Some other indigenous names for this moon and month refer to commonly-sighted animals. Some examples include Eagle Moon (Cree), Bear Moon (Ojibwe), Groundhog Moon (Algonquin), and Goose Moon (Haida). Another notable example is Hungry Moon (Cherokee), denoting the scarcity of available food in deep winter.

The Snow Moon this year is what is known as a "micromoon" - basically the opposite of a supermoon. Where a supermoon brings our beloved satellite closer to Earth, at the perigree (or zenith) of its' elliptical orbit, a micromoon is at the apogee (or nadir), placing the moon at a point comparatively farther away. The moon will be at peak illumination at 7:30am EST on February 24th, meaning the moon may appear to be full on the 23rd and the 24th, depending on where you live.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

February is a month of change and transition. Though winter still holds on, many places may be showing early signs of spring. Little buds may be coming out on the trees, certain species of birds are beginning to migrate back, and hibernating animals start to wake up and reappear.

As we begin to turn toward the end of our long winter's rest, it's a good time to think about how we prepare for oncoming change and how we care for ourselves and our practices during times of stagnation.

With the moon in apogee, we might also contemplate the concept of distance as it relates to our practices, be it keeping long-distance bonds fresh, doing things remotely either alone or as part of a larger group, or feeling distant from your craft or your deities. And yes, such things are normal and cyclical. Our inspiration and motivation wax and wane just as the moon does. If it feels like you've been far away from your craft for too long, perhaps it's time to bring it back into your orbit.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Gather fresh snow or icicles for moon water, or make your own moon ice by leaving a bowl of water out overnight to freeze, if the temperature drops low enough.

If it snows in your area, you can wish upon a snowball. Grab a handful of powdery snow, whisper your wish to it, and throw the whole thing up in the air to release the wish into the universe

With winter scarcity in mind, practice creating a minimalist spell as an exercise. Create a workable spell with as few components, words, movements, or ritual elements as possible. This is more of a challenge if you're used to using material components or rituals in your spellwork. Many witches cast spells with focused thought or energy work alone.

Explore the concept of self care as magic. Use your routines to create moments of rest and harmony, make a point of being kind to your body and your mind, and cultivate a more positive relationship with yourself - it's the only one guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Connect with your local biome by looking for any early signs of spring in your area. Feed the returning birds and identify the plant and animal species you see around you as they appear one by one.

Happy Snow Moon, witches! 🌕❄️

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Snow Moon: Full Moon in February 2024, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Snow Moon: The Extraordinary Full Moon of February 2024, The Peculiar Brunette.

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2024

Calendar-12 - 2024 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[chickpea0]

Going to be real for a sec, just thinking outloud because I know this is a safe place and I need to get thoughts out. Veeerry long! Not a vent just a brain dump. do not bother reading this unless youre really reallyyy into biographies lol this is literally 1,915 words

I'm stuck inbetween minds at the moment. I keep asking myself if regression, or dreaming, isn't really for me. I found agere and petre when I was very young, about 14; it piqued my interest because I'm a very curious person, interested in different lifestyles and ways to explore the self but I also think that because I was just coming out of childhood even though I thought my childhood had ended years before. I was just growing out of being a tween and at that stage in life, it's really startling going from childhood to seemingly adulthood overnight and it's quite natural and common for people to want to cling onto things when everything is being shaken up like that.

Intamacy with people, vulnerability and emotional closeness is always somethign I've struggled with and felt like it was just out of reach so the idea of allowing myself to be back at a stage where I was raw, authentic and less closed up was really really appealing. Plus, the idea of people understanding that and guiding me and just being around me would mean they *really* like me and they're not just there because they have to be, even though I've never had a caregiver though I have had like 2 online friendships where I could be baby around them which felt quite good but I never quite felt satisfied. probably because it was online and neither laster over 3 months. I'm practically always masking and the idea of being weird (I mean this without negative connotation) and expressive really sounded amazing. I have also always always always wanted to be apart of a community but I just never have. No clubs or hobbies that made me feel welcome growing up, no proper friend groups that made made me feel at home, I think I've been in a lot of fandom/online community spaces just because I wanted to feel apart of something though because I was never able to contribute it just felt like a one-way mirror.

So!! I find a lovely community like this! With a focus on mental health, togetherness, working through things and taking time to appriciate things, it's great! I love you guys! I can even make moodboards and little posts and I have a cg blog and a slightly bigger blog where I help boost creators on here. I have mutuals!!!!! People follow me!!! We talk on tags and comments!!! I feel like I have insider knowledge and experience because I've had a lot of oppertuinty to reflect on life and mental health and even on regression itself. But thing is I do not regress often at all. When I do it's for split seconds. When I'm really sleepy, when I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable, if I'm having a weird spacey day. I'm not sure if it's more dissociation or a sudden wave of emotion or what. I think I'm just generally an immature person some times. I haven't grown up yet, I'm only an adolescent. It's not something I want to force because forcing things like this, especially if it is dissociation, can be pretty bad for your brain. Age dreaming is a different thing though.

For me I'm between a rock and a hardplace. I do not feel like I regress organically enough to be on here nearly as much as I am. I'm so tense that I feel like I can't relax or open up enough to enjoy even age dreaming. Brainfog, sure! But it's not regression. I also do not want to edge too far and go into maladaptive nostalgia terratory. I feel, lately, like I kind of need to say goodbye and thank you to my childhood but it's over now and that doesn't have to be a bad thing. I think there's such a focus- everywhere online not just here- on "how good" the old days were. People making heart wrenching nostalgia edits with slowed minecraft music and ambient noise just to rake in veiws and to pull at your own heartstrings. It's natural to seek solace and yearn for something that was so familiar and safe especially at a time where not only is daily life changing for the individual but also for society at large. But rose tinted glasses are not accurate and can be dangerous. Nostalgia should be something that makes you feel light and refreshed. When you hear a song that you haven't heard in years and go 'oh! I remeber! I remember what my brain was like back then' and smile and move on. Maybe taking inspiration from it.

But.

I feel like my nervous system is so fried that making any progess is really draining and proper healthy coping mechanisms never seem to stick. I also feel very isolated, having no irl friends at the moment and not having any purpose like education, work, volonteering, passions, whatever. These are all things I have experienced for well over a decade which is... obviously a very large chunk of my life so far. So I really do need something to fill my life with, a familer space with familiar ideals and stuff. You guys are great. You have such refreshing takes and it just feels so calm and kind here. At the end of the day despite feeling a bit repetative at this point for me, I do enjoy looking at life through this lense. This place has not changed much at all since I started my blog in 2021. It's honestly one of the most consistant things in my day to day life! God. even the streets are changing but it's nice to know I can log on here if I need some reliability.

And thing is, I don't know if it's related to my ASD or my trauma or lack of experience in the world or none of those but I just feel a few steps behind my peers. They are all acting on their life plans or getting out and being social or enjoying new relationships. And I'm perfectly fine taking things at my own pace and growing in my own way but I just don't fit in really. I genuinely feel like I'll hit my stride in my mid twenties or older. Not because I'll have more qualifications or be high up in a career, I just feel like that is when I'll really start knowing and feeling like myself. That's the age when people generally start to figure things out. Basically, I like it here because I feel like I'm in a more similar life state. my focus is on getting through the day and making my own steps. I'm fine as long as I'm growing even if I'm burnt out lmao. Healing for over a decade drains you and I feel like my mental capacity is so small at the moment because of it. Like. I can't pick up a book or a new hobby or a job whatever because ALL of my bodily, mental, spiritual, emotional energies are going into mending and stuff. I feel like a 29 year old preschooler lol. 5 o'clock shadow and a sippy cup. haha. I like it here because it's like easy mode. it's like a holiday for your brain.

I'm honestly not sure what the point I started off with was. I have sooo many thoughts swirling in my head. At the end of the day I feel so burnt out and like I said, with such a small bandwidth that I feel like even regressing or dreaming or even just thinking about it is too much. Like. I used to cope and regulate by imagining scenarios in my head, like fanfics in my brain when I needed a little comfort but now I just can't! I can't imagine myself with a dream job or in a fantasy world or kissing someone cute, I just don't have it in me. It's not like I'm super low or anything, I'm actually generally pretty stable at the moment. I think what I want right now is to not feel alone. I don't want a relationship per se, not sure if it'd be fair to start something with someone but having a nice social circle would be a big relief. I can't remember ever really... having that. I guess I'm esoteric, with a full plate. I had a nice group of friends in college for about 2 years but thats dead now, we got on each others nerves at the end. But it was nice while it lasted. Imaging having a caregiver or being one is one of the only ways I can barely scratch that itch of wanting to rely on someone. Like. It's so deep at the moment, wanting comfort and all that, that "normal" soloutions to that just don't hit hard enough. Like I could imagine having a really nice friend group but irl I would need to be in a healthy friendship for quite a while before it started fulfilling that need, so imagining someone coddling me like I am a child, like I am something to be cherished, not just valued but cherished, that hits harder. thats nicer to think about. also also also co regulation + company is something i really desire.

I feel like I am so entwined with this community, more than anything else these days. It's sort of got a grip on me. and i dont know how i feel about that. none of you guys know me. i have mutuals, nice mutuals and people who are in my notes but none of you actually know me. i think maybe this place is more of a fantasy than a reality for me. and that tells me i need to distance myself but what else do i have?

I've tried taking a break before, you might remember, it only ended up being a few months but it was nice to come back.

right thats basically it. I assume if you've made it this far, seeing as I'm not even writing to anyone I'm just emptying my brain, I assume you're a very curious person. Someone who likes to feel involved. Like meeee. If anyone has any advice or sage wisdom or anything you want to say at all, please go ahead. This post is basically a bunch of thoughts with little resolve. This isn't really something I want to bring up with my therapist because onneee, I'm embarrassed, twwwooo she has most likely no idea of what age regression this, in this context. like. the age regression they talk about in regard to mental and psychological contexts, its pretty different to all this. anyway. i have other things in therapy to talk about lol maybe one day ill bring up that i feel like a small child in certain situations but let her lead that conversation. ah so.

yeah like. yeah. hi. if this resonates, im glad you found that. yeah. yeahhh i dont know. i have a lot of stuff going on. nothing in my life is straight forward. hence the... want to simplify things. I'm really tired now, wow!

to conclude, I'm a baby not necessarily a regessor. I'm running on fumes. i have a weird relationship with agere and im very hot and cold about it. goo goo ga ga but also i want to be respected and seen as a capable adult. i need a hobby. i need to rest but blehhhhh.

Here's a puppy as a treat for reading it all

[thatstormygeek]

I'm so irritated that I'm feeling the need to stand up for Biden - a president I really do not care for - because apparently we all have the attention span of gnats.

Read some history. Please. The most likely result of running anyone other than Biden on the Dem ticket now would be to hand the election to Trump.

Oddly enough (though not really, if you think about it) it's other leftists saying this as well, while partisan Dems fall all over themselves trying to force a predictable disaster.

Democratic donors and insiders are allegedly in full blown panic mode and searching for a replacement. They’re musing about potential white saviors who can somehow come in at the last second, less than five months from the election, and magically push Democrats over the top. We’ve heard about Gavin Newsom and Gretchen Whitmer. A name that is rarely mentioned is Vice President Kamala Harris. This is after Democrats have spent the past four years doing absolutely nothing to help bolster her profile or image. How do you think all of this will go over with Black voters, especially Black women, who make up the Dem base?  Meanwhile, the New York Times Editorial Board did not ask Donald Trump to step down. Not after he was held liable for rape or fraud or defamation. Not after he was convicted on all 34 counts by a jury of his peers. Not even after he vomited lie after lie at the debate and refused to admit that he’d accept the results of the 2024 election. No one is asking him to step down or pressuring the GOP to find another candidate. Why not? This absurd double standard reflects the utter asymmetry between both parties and how they are treated by our institutions. The bar is so low that Donald Trump merely has to slither underneath it. Most Democrats, unlike the cult of MAGA, actually have fidelity to the Constitution and rule of law instead of worshiping at the altar of personality. The fact they’re even openly entertaining this debate of replacing their candidate a few months before the election is a healthy sign of internal diversity.  But the demand is also unrealistic.  I’m not excited that Joe Biden is running for President in 2024. I wasn't excited when he ran in 2020. However, I do remain excited about protecting U.S. democracy which is under a full-frontal assault from MAGA Republicans and right-wing authoritarians both here and abroad. Yes, I saw the awful, no-good, terrible debate. Yes, President Biden looked old, sounded rough, had a hoarse voice, and lost his train of thought a few times. His most embarrassing moments were when he fumbled a slam dunk question on abortion and went on a strange tangent about undocumented immigrants, and the other is when he made the gaffe that he beat Medicare. Meanwhile, Trump just lied for ninety minutes without any fact checks, decided to amp up the xenophobia, and was his usual vulgarian self.  Yes, President Biden has been a moral failure on Palestine. Currently, the extremist Netanyahu government is committing a genocide in Gaza according to most Biden voters. And, shockingly, Trump would even be worse on this issue. During the debate, not only did Trump not commit to supporting a Palestinian state he also used Palestinian as a pejorative to smear Biden. He has also promised to bring back the Muslim Ban and institute litmus tests for immigrants, turning away those immigrants who don’t “like our religion.” It remains to be seen if he was referring to white Christian nationalism or Trumpism.