#...and i find the whole 'LOVE YOURSELF' to be daunting and scary because it's not where i'm at...

[uncanny-tranny]

I just heard this ad that says therapy is just "learning how to love yourself," and quite honestly, I disagree with that sentiment. I think it puts uneeded pressure on people to "love themselves."

I don't think you need to love yourself to benefit from therapy, and therapy shouldn't just be "learning to love yourself." It certainly is beneficial for some people to learn skills that we call self-love, like setting boundaries, hygiene that works for you, eating full and balanced meals that you enjoy, for instance, but that doesn't need to include this air of being in love with yourself.

I think therapy is about learning how to live with yourself. You don't have to love your flatmates (for example), but you often respect them as people. So, you'll clean up after yourself, and you'll communicate with them, and you'll even make small talk with them. That's kind of how I see therapy. You don't have to love yourself, but you often need to learn how to respect yourself, and I think those are slightly different things.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

what are the easiest stories for you to write? Like bachelor verse/tinder/fake dating vs investigation/mystery/drama fics. I tend towards low stakes slice of life type stories because I don’t have to worry about editing or bloat and it’s very vibe based but then I inevitably hit a slump because I cant really find the motivation when there’s no real exciting moment to get to and it’s all just slow burn.

My romcoms are always "easier" to write. They're lower stakes, the plots aren't as intricate, there isn't as much to keep track of. But easy doesn't always equal fulfilling, and that's why I always have to have a thing. There needs to be some sort of stakes. She needs to win the bachelor, Jon needs to keep his onlyfans a secret, they can't let anyone find out they're fake dating, etc.

The darker stories are the ones I tend to pour more of myself into, and get more satisfaction out of when it turns out exactly how I wanted. They do less well, stats-wise (I know, I know, I shouldn't care, but I can never help comparing my works & their reception to each other), and sometimes that's disheartening, but I keep writing them because I love them and they mean a lot to me. If you asked me for a list of my favorite fics, I feel like most of them would be my darker, more plot heavy ones.

(that doesn't mean I don't love my romcoms. There is a place in my heart for both and both serve different purposes. It's why I tend to start writing one kind while still in the process of writing another)

For you, anon, it seems to me you aren't writing what you want to write? I'm obviously not getting the whole story, but it seems like maybe you find plotting scary or daunting, and so you write something that doesn't require it, only to find yourself bored of your own work. I'm not sure what the solution is, without knowing more, but my advice is to write something with plot! Find the stakes! Find a conflict that interests you and write it! Keep everything moving, let the conflict flow and change if it's needed. I think maybe one of the most important things is to have an end goal. If you know your end, you have something to work towards.

I don't know how else to help, anon, though I wish I did!

[credulouscanidae]

i feel like this year has been a huge bust mentally

i didnt wanna be like this still by christmas, let alone the new year

i dont want it to become march and im still like this, a whole year since moving by then.

but i can feel myself improving, funny enough.

ive spent a lot of this time in despair and grief, and i was giving myself a time limit on those feelings. which made me unable to meet my own expectations, which made me recede and become unable to challenge myself, because i wsa constantly setting myself up for failure to begin with. it feels impossible to do a challenge youre already failing before you begin.

and i have been self aware this whole time too, having that logical part of me talk me through it all. i can look back at myself almost in a third person, as ive always done, and see all the connections as to why im feeling and therefore behaving this way.

so instead of sitting around punishing myself, ive been /trying/ to tell myself theres no time limit on adjustment, and that i am strong enough to pull through. even if i come out of this being disliked. ive put so much energy into being anxious about what people think of me, that ive caused my own cycle of not being able to face it.

i have been acutely aware this whole time that others can only do so much for me, and in the end the only person who can change my situation is me. for me to find that inner strength to do that.

i feel like a lot of the noise has quietened down now. because i had to suddenly grapple with not only accepting my old life was changing, but that i had to suddenly build up a brand new life from scratch with very little support. but the life building in england is finally feeling...like i can do it. things feel less confusing and daunting, the roads feel less scary to navigate, i know where to go for what i need now, and ive been falling into daily routines again. which i didnt have when i first arrived. it's like my roots are finally burying in. and thats making incorporating my aussie roots back into my life feel a bit more doable.

i WANT to have voice chats with friends, or have a casual hello. i dont want to be like this. having a twisted tummy and palpitating heart every time i see a new notification on my phone. i havent even cleared my notif bar on my phone for months, out of fear of seeing a message i havent checked from so long ago. there is so much literal and mental clutter. and i want to be free of all of these notifs and emails etc. its not anyones fault but mine. i WANT to be more engaged, i feel homesick and miss everyone. and i HATE that those feelings dominate my behaviour, and how EASY it is to fall into a self fulfilling prophecy. i hate how it makes me a neglectful friend and family member.

but, with therapy, and settling into my life here. i think i can slowly work my way up to getting over all of this. i really. really. REALLY. fucking want to. i want to draw again, i want to learn how to sculpt, i want to be involved in peoples lives again. because right now, im finding it hard to even humour the idea of making friends here in the uk, because of how guilty that would make me feel, and how not ready i am to make new connections, especially cuz i would rather reinforce connection with existing people in my life.

again. self fulfilling. all that does is make me continue to be lonely.

but as i said, it's slowly getting better. i feel bad about how negative ive been all this time. i just want people to know that, in regards to my relationship, i AM happy. and i know that 10 years from now im going to look back on all of this with evren and go "fuck man that was a lot huh"

you cant hate yourself into loving yourself, and thats something that has kept my spark going, even when it's been one bad thought away from fizzling out.

im trying to be easier on myself. i know that all of this can exist at the same time as me having negative effects on others (which i guess is just an assumption to begin with) and i am not immune to causing that damage. but honestly? right now in this moment, im trying to give myself some compassion and lenience. because ive spent years and years feeling anxious and being hyper vigilant about my behaviour and how i affect others, that i have barely taken the time to consider myself and be healthy and strong in my core self. as they say, assume the best unless told otherwise. thats going to be a goal of mine. i always assume good intentions from people, even to a detriment, so i hope to take that view and shape it into a healthier outlook. maybe not everyone has their best intentions or insight, but i think overall people are just trying. god, in this goddamn fucked up world, all we can do is try.

and thats why i need to be more lenient.

sorry for all the tangents and sloppy execution. im probably in the acceptance stage of grief atm lmao, and im tired of being like this.

[lackadaisycats]

I love everything of your work, every page is a piece of art, textures, lights, perspective, characters and the script, with perfect balance of hilarious and engaging lore.... It keeps me inspired everyday and gives me the energies to continue my projects. I can't describe the extreme joy your works gives me and I couldn't be more grateful, because it keeps me dreaming and helped me to understand what I want to do in the near future. Thank you so so much \(^ヮ^)/.

I have one question : Do you have any advices for making comics and put them in the world? For some time I had the urge to share my works, but idk what to do :/.

That's exceedingly kind. I'm touched to hear you've enjoyed my work, and if it helped you to understand what creative things you want to do, well, that makes my heart glad. Thanks for sharing that.

Very wordy response to the making and sharing comics question below....

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

Making comics is a Whole Big Thing as topics go. It's a little difficult to provide salient advice on something so broad. So much of it depends on what you're specifically trying to achieve, and what your preferences are as an individual. Here are a few bulletpoints, though:

-- Make the comic about things you love unabashedly so that it's fun and engaging to work on. It will still be difficult - it's always difficult - but you're more likely to keep doing the work it if you're in love with it.

-- Don't put off starting until you're 'good enough'. Good Enough is a fantasy place, and Perfect is a big lie. You'll never find either and pursuing them easily turns into eternal procrastination. Get started while the fire is burning, because getting good at something happens while you're actually doing the thing, and less so while you're thinking about maybe doing it. Try to be at peace with the idea that your work will be flawed. All art is. That's what makes it interesting.

-- Try to work with your strengths, not against them. Comic making is already immensely challenging. I'd suggest not making it extra impossible by demanding an entire personality change of yourself in order to do it. For example, if you tend to have intense but short-lived interest in things, don't torture yourself by embarking on a project that is going to take years-long, single-minded devotion. Do an anthology of shorter stories instead of a sprawling epic. Do one-off joke comics, or thoughtful vignettes. Or even break up something longer into short bursts of contained chapters.

-- Don't hurt yourself. Eat right, sleep, get a comfortable chair that's good for your back, get out of that chair and move around at intervals. If something starts aching, stop and rest. If it's aching chronically, see a medical professional. Career ending injuries and health troubles for artists are insidious - they creep up all quiet and mundane while you're busy patting yourself on the back for pulling another all-nighter.

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

About sharing online - also a tricky topic! The internet has changed a lot since I began Lackadaisy. The advice I could give derived from my personal experiences in publishing and audience building is a relic of a bygone era at this point…but here are some more bulletpoints (er, paragraphs) that I think are generally pertinent:

-- If publishing publicly sounds daunting and a bit scary, dip your toes in the water before plunging in. Do a publishing test run. If there's a Discord community you're comfortable with or a social media platform you use where you can post for mutuals only, maybe try that first. Or just share directly with a handful of people and ask them for feedback. When I'm unsure about something I'm preparing to post, I usually run it by some creator friends of mine because I trust them to be honest with me. Even if they have some criticisms, it's often reassuring that I can proceed to show it to others without dying inside.

-- Places with a big, built in audience can be great for getting eyeballs on your work, but it’s a mixed bag. Webtoon is the obvious example right now. Just be wary of anyone showing a little too much interest, or coming at you with paperwork to sign. Don't rush into putting your name on something that 1) commits you to unreasonable amounts of output for barely livable wages 2) relinquishes your ownership of your IP, or grants anyone any license to your work without clearly defined boundaries (like a limited term and agreement-ending conditions) -- Contract agreements warrant lots of consideration. Involve a lawyer of your own if you can. At the very least, have friends or family read over anything you might sign. And if it sounds too good to be true, it is. Scams are unfortunately abundant, so do your research/due diligence on whoever you're in discussions with.

-- Make yourself easy to find. Use social media to your advantage. Don't feel like you have to be in every single place, though. Some platforms might not be a good fit for your work, and some might be too much of a hassle or a mental drain to do battle with. -- Scrape out your own space online if you're able - a personal web page, a little WordPress/ComicPress site, or even just a link hub so that people can relocate your work if they lose track. The point is to avoid putting your eggs all in single basket that you have no control over. You never know when the social network growth you've been nurturing for the past several years will just succumb to a billionaire rampaging around like a sociopathic kaiju in the midst of the world's most public midlife crisis.

-- Don't worry about being an immediate sensation. Seeing people respond to your work is a wonderful and immensely gratifying feeling at times, but be patient if all hear are crickets chirping for a while. Longform storytelling in particular takes time to catch its momentum, and readers take time to get invested. Meteoric rises and virality do happen now and then, but honestly, slow and steady audience buildup is probably the more sustainable and less psychologically bewildering way to experience the fun of sharing your stuff with the world.

-- Consistently put your identifier (name/watermark, URL, copyright info, or all of these things) on everything you post online.

---------------------- I hope something here is useful, and if you decide to start making and publishing comics, I hope you find much success and happiness in it!

[changminurheart]

forever isn’t forever. ( kim sunwoo )

forever isn’t supposed to be a diamond ring on your finger, but i guess you just weren’t ready to find out what marriage to sunwoo would’ve been like anyway. warning ; forever does end & angst.

“why?” his own voice is the one breaking this time and you try to swallow the lump in your throat ; its stuck, you’re stuck. the speech from earlier lingers in your head, taunting you as you’re left speechless. he’s facing you now, eyes boring into your own. he’s just as lost as you are, faced with a brick wall to high for him to scale. a brick wall you can’t see past.

“i-” your words die on your tongue, why can’t you speak? his eyes are pleading with your own, prodding your brain, begging for answers.

“why did you say no?” the tears spit from his eyes rapidly and when the silence lingers for longer than it should he removes your hands from him. “i don’t care that you did it in front of my friends and family, i don’t care that i looked like an idiot, i just want to know why?” his heart is still crashing and you don’t blame it. you walked in, made yourself home with love in his veins and then walked out, dirty footprints left at the door ; you walked in and out. but you’re still in his sight.

salt mixes with the metallic taste of blood as your teeth sink in to the red lipstick that already stains your frown. he runs another hand through his har, veins breaking through the surface. he deserves answers, he deserves to know why you’re so fucking afraid but you can’t find the words.

this house no longer feels like a home not with the dagger for stares, the teardrops staining your rug and the heaving chests that are irregular against the ticking of the clock. god, seconds tick away but you’re stuck in an unwanted moment of forever.

“woo,” another tick and tear. “i’m scared,” you cry. and his heart softens for a moment before he presses his watermelon lips together.

“so was i,” his pearly white teeth grinds, jaw clenching sharp enough to cut. “but we could’ve been scared together, together it wouldn’t have even been scary,” his voice raises an octave, straining and struggling. you’re both struggling to make sense of your thoughts.

“two years,” he scoffs in disbelief, “two years i’ve held your hands, your heart and protected it with such care. two years i’ve loved you and let you love me. we’ve been selfless and selfish for each other and never once have i ever thought of walking out that door,” his words poke at your being. through the blurry tears you make out the angry pout lacing his lips, the wrinkles in his forehead creasing with every word. words you’ll hear for the rest of your life.

“sunwoo-” you try to reason but he doesn’t let you. for once, he doesn’t even let you breathe. if he doesn’t say what he feels now he’s afraid it’s going to bruise him forever, purple hues that will never heal.

“no,” he pauses and takes a good look at you, “i thought you were it for me,” he chokes out the past tense and you take the first step towards him, him taking a thousand steps back.

“i loved you too,” you shout against the ticking of time and hammering of hearts. “i love you,” your breaths are shaky, the whole world seems to shake. “we’ve spoken about marriage before but woo,” you heave out that last breath, “i’m not ready,” and the truth slices him open at once, the love for you bleeding from his open bruises that your earlier actions formed. through his loosened tie and unbuttoned suit shirt, you see the rapid rise and fall of his caramel chest. “i’m just not ready,” you repeat, though it’s futile because the damage has already been done.

the silence is daunting, it’s no longer the comfortable one you’d sit and weave your hands through his ebony locks. the same one you’d lie on your sides together, doing nothing but feeling everything. yet now, you’re both revealing everything and feeling everything. his bags that were packed in his closet a month ago ready for your planned honeymoon are the same ones he reaches for in the frenzy of emotions.

his mind had been so stuck on you saying yes that he hadn’t took in consideration a no. you’ve spoken about marriage before, he should’ve noticed your hesitation disguised by laughs and distracting kisses. he should’ve seen the warnings, everytime you’d babysit his nephew and still at the thought of having your own one day.

he could never blame you for being scared but he blames you for not trusting him enough to not be scared. he blames you for breaking his heart, because you’ve crushed it into tiny fragments- made of glass and you let it slip through your fingers. and the ring that was supposed to give you forever at your fingertips lies in his back pocket, mocking you as it faces you from his behind- the image of him leaving for good pains your mind.

the suitcase reaches his hands despite your pleading that stops with his final words to you. words that print in your mind for a lifetime.

“will you ever be?”

minnie’s note ; mainly inspired by my sadness tonight (we just been angrily writing lmao) and this gorgeous ass fic that i love with my whole entire heart and will never be able to form words to explain how amazing it was called ‘champagne problems’ by the talented @nayuyeons literal gold- art , a masterpiece i cried through and will always sob thinking about it. i can’t thank you enough for giving me such an experience reading that masterpiece it lives in my mind rent free.

[kenmei]

-ˏˋ FOREVER N THEN SOME! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x kozume kenma

cw: pinch of angst (to fluff !!!), romance, slice of life, crying, established relationship!au, timeskip!au

synopsis: in which he’s actually more traditional than he leads on

wc: 2000+

notes from mei!

ive had this idea rattling around my skull for the longest time

sixteen and a handshake. a standard, normal handshake, but still awkward.

you remember how his hand perfectly fit with yours—how his palms were searing hot as they met with your much colder ones.

you remember him, as a second-year, as the setter for the team you cheered for from the stands. you remember his flushed cheeks when you kissed him on the cheek for a first time, watching as his brain malfunctioned as the rosy hues on his face spread to his neck and the tips of his ears.

you remember him, as the captain, worn out and exhausted at your doorstep.

you recall how he slumped onto you, making you somewhat drag him to your room. half because he really was that tired, and half for his own amusement.

you know him. you know him a bit too well and it’s both a blessing and curse.

because you wonder if he’s finally grown out of it—of this.

looking at the empty spot beside you, you think that, perhaps, he really has—the signs are staring right at you. lately, you’ve been sleeping in a cold bed, waking up to yet again another empty penthouse as you figure he’s at the office again.

(you hope he’s at the office, at least).

texts replies are always hours apart. it seems like he’s been doubling up on streams. friday’s that have always been reserved for two since forever, have only had one person attending these past few weeks.

this is sad, your chest clenches dejectedly at yet another morning where it’s only you. looking around, a part of you wishes that kenma’s actually here, that any second now, he’s going to emerge from his game room, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he scratches his tummy.

because even if you both don’t talk as much as you used to, it’s enough for you simply when he’s present. it’s enough for you when he mutters a good morning, waddling past you to go make his coffee before sitting on the couch.

it’s enough for you when he’s here.

the absolute bare minimum can make you the happiest, but you wonder if even that is too much.

twenty-four and you’re still overthinking.

“just talk to him!” your friends say, but truly it isn’t that easy. even if you’ve both promised to be better at communicating, something about this whole situation makes communication feel so much more difficult.

“you’ve been together for so long, you both still aren’t married?” if you’re being honest, it does bother you sometimes and you wonder if maybe, you should just get on one knee instead.

but you don’t. you don’t because you and kenma already both live(d) like you’re married. you both still share(d) that dynamic of being a laid-back couple who deals with problems as they come.

you don’t think about marriage with him because it already feels right. you don’t mind not getting married and honestly, you’re pretty sure kenma isn’t that kind of guy.

you’re startled by someone poking the side of your head.

your head turns to see kenma, brows slightly furrowed as he analyzes you.

you shake your head, sitting up straight on the couch. “’what’s u—wait, aren’t you supposed to be streaming right now?”

kenma nods his head, plopping into the spot next to you. “ended early. chat was being rude today.”

your head bobs in understanding as you try to find words to piece together. he must be frustrated, you know a little bit about how difficult it can get as a streamer and you also know him, that if he doesn’t want to be near you or hear you, he simply wouldn’t be.

you smile slightly, “t—”

“why are you so tense?” he questions, leaning back. his eyes study you and you feel like hiding.

“’m not.” you defend, shrinking.

“you are.” he replies, “what’s wrong?”

you hum, grabbing a throw pillow and falling onto your side, opposite from him. “class was hard today. your paparazzi found me at the grocery store—”

“that happened last week.”

you groan, because fuck, you really can’t lie to him. he’s too good at getting you to open up, no matter how hard you resist it.

“it’s stupid.” you pout, covering your face with the pillow, already feeling your wound up emotions spiraling back up to the surface.

kenma’s hand lands on your legs, situating them over his lap. he pats the side your calves, humming. “talk to me.”

“what about you?” genuinely, you feel like right now isn’t the best time to talk about this. “you were just telling me about how your chat was being rude!”

“that can wait.” he replies, patient, like he’s always been. “something’s been bothering you, no?”

yes. you think. but i don’t wanna talk to you about it ‘cuz i’m scared.

“are you tired...” fuck, you think, because once again, he’s getting you to talk. “of—of me?”

he’s always been good at this. somehow always getting you to say whatever’s clogging up your mind. he reads you like an open book and you hate it, because even after all these years, it’s still scary.

it’s daunting, because he knows so much about you. if he wanted to, he could pick you apart all too easily, knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you break and that’s scary. it’s terrifying, even.

you feel his hand, as warm as they’ve always been, slide under the bottom of your loose pajama pants, warming up your ice cold skin.

and the feeling is weird, because you feel like you’re on fire, yet his hand is still so much warmer than you.

it’s comforting. you’ve both always been touch-starved and kenma knows this, he knows this as he traces small shapes on your calves, the hem of your pants riding up a bit.

“why would i be tired of you?” he mumbles, eyes moving to see your face is still very much covered with the pillow.

you shrug, leg twitching under his feathery touch. “you’ve been distant and stuff... i dunno.”

and it feels like he’s back at square one with you. kenma feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner, cursing himself for being so caught up with work (and something else) that he’s been neglecting you.

you’ve always been a bit of a crybaby, only him and your close friends know this.

he notes that you tend to cry even when you both have the smallest fights, and it’s something he’s used to.

so to know that you’re holding everything in, it makes his chest tighten.

“i’m sorry, angel.” he says, quiet. “work’s been busy.”

yes, work is busy. even if he finds it enjoyable, it can get taxing sometimes. but he’s also been looking around for something, something that he needs perfect.

“‘s okay.” you mumble and he knows he’s fucking up even more. “i just miss you.”

he tugs on the bottom of your shirt, “c’mere.”

you shake your head and he ponders on what to do.

because even now, even though you’ve both been together for so long that existing with the other is literally needed, there are times when you both get stuck—where existing together feels more complex than it should ever be.

“please,” he pleads softly, “i miss you.”

and if you’re not gonna come to him, he’ll come to you.

so he leans down, forcing you to hold a bit of his weight as he lays atop you. he pulls the pillow away, wiping the few tears away with his thumb.

he kisses your cheek.

twenty-four, you let yourself cry because you’ve missed him so much. seeing other in the evenings or exchanging a few short words doesn’t do it for you anymore, it never will.

another kiss, but on the other cheek. i’m sorry.

another for your forehead, then one more on your nose. i love you.

your hands cling to him and he smiles, caressing your hair. his head lays in the juncture of your neck, frequently wiping your tears with his thumb.

he makes you sit up, only because he wants to hold you.

with your back to his chest, his warm hand envelopes yours. he doesn’t make you face him, because he knows that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable. 

it’s only when he hears your crying subside, that he holds your chin, making you look him in the eyes.

“are we okay?” he mumbles, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath.

it still gets to you. he still gets to you like you’re both still teenagers; your heart thumps in your ears, body burning because fuck, he’s really close to kissing your lips.

you nod, “’m sorry. didn’t wanna talk to you ‘cuz i was scared.”

his lips slot against yours and it’s gentle, your mind becomes fuzzy with a warmth only kenma can provide you. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lips chasing his.

“don’t worry about that,” he says softly, “i might’ve accidentally made it harder to approach me.”

you shake your head. “thought it was just my overthinking.” you fiddle with your fingers, “i didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”

“next time,” he says, “make a big deal out of it. you gotta talk to me, angel.”

you whine, feeling embarrassed because you’ve gotten this lecture from him so many times.

kenma sighs against your skin, wondering if now is the right time. it feels like a good time, but he doesn’t want to waste a special moment because of a good feeling.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you ask, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

your eyes are red, you’re still sniffling every now and then.

he smiles, hand travelling to his pocket as he pulls out the ring, holding it in front of you. “this is why i was so busy. t—the box is in my gaming room, though, fuck—”

“is that—”

“w—wanna get married, y/n?” his whole face is red. you giggle at his shaking hand as you hold out your own (shaking) hand.

“yeah. i really wanna.”

and you’re crying again as he slips the ring on your finger. the diamonds sparkles at you and you can’t help but fawn over the ring as you sob.

“crybaby.” he mumbles, kissing your cheek. he nuzzles into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. “i love you.”

and it’s here you realize that kenma is a lot more traditional than you thought. memories flood in of him always getting you to watch the first snow with him through his window, forcing you under the kotatsu with him as he shows you a new game he started playing.

eighteen. for your two year anniversary, he took you to a place with love locks. signing one off with you before throwing the key god knows where. and you remember thinking it’s weird, because the month before that, he was telling you stuff like that is kinda phony. 

nineteen. you recall him grumbling about getting into a yukata for the festival, but grumbling even more when you gave in and said you’d both attend in normal clothing, because he’s already halfway in the yukata, why would he change? (he just wanted to wear one with you).

twenty-two. his persistence to keep you awake to watch the sun rise on new years.

you realize kenma follows traditions more than you do and you chuckle.

giggling, you hold your hand out where the diamonds on your left ring finger shine happily, tilting your head to kiss him yet another time.

“i love you.”

change. you know your daily lives aren’t going to be much different, but you both like how your last name will be the same as his.

twenty-four. he proposes to you so casually that some might find it weird. but you both aren’t ones for big gestures. you know kenma loves you, it’s in the way he moves your hair out of your face as he asks you if he can still make it up to you.

and he knows you love him, when you laugh and tell him he already has—when you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss the top of his hand, kenma knows and you know, too.

forever it is.

[straightouttaneptune]

Luna

Pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader (past), Dad!Harry Potter x daughter!Lily Potter

Warning: This is like... legitimate angst. Honestly, it’s so bittersweet. There’s mentions of blood, but I mean, it is Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry tells a story about a girl, Y/N Y/L/N, his first girlfriend. Ginny’s out for the night, and Harry’s daughter, Lily Potter, is more than excited to hear about her father’s teenage romance.

A/N: This came to me while I was daydreaming during class. Amazing what a weekend of binge rewatching Harry Potter will do to you, lmao. Also, I’m debating on making an alternate ending to you and Harry’s story. Oh! Also it’s super long!!

—————————————————————

“Dad, was mum your first girlfriend?” The 9 year old Lily Potter whispered to her father with a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. 

It was a snowy winter night, the day before her brothers, James and Albus returned from Hogwarts for Christmas break. Her mother, Ginny Potter was out for the night, preparing for the other Weasley-Potter kids’ return. 

“Well, do you promise to keep this a secret between us?” Harry replied enthusiastically, sitting down on Lily’s bed as she sat up with her girlish excitement twinkling in her eyes.

“Definitely. So it wasn’t mum?” She giggled as she got situated to hear this very exclusive bed-time story, her sleepiness cast away, nowhere to be found.

“No, although I love your mum very much. My first girlfriend’s name was Y/N Y/L/N.” He paused for a second, for just speaking your name brought back so many memories that made him almost tear up.

“That’s such a pretty name! Was she in Gryffindor, like you and mum?” Lily reacted, and with that Harry resumed the story.

“Actually, cupcake, she wasn’t. She was in Slytherin.” Harry smiled, watching Lily’s face turn into a look of absolute shock as she gasped.

“A Slytherin? Really? Was she pretty?”  

“The prettiest girl at Hogwarts. You see, in our first year, me, Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione, we had to face this big, scary troll in the girls bathroom. She saved us, because she knew a lot of charms, even as a first year!”

“So she was smart, too!”

“Yeah. She was brilliant.”

December, 1993 Outside the shrieking shack

“He was their friend!” Harry yelled out angrily, hopelessly, powerlessly. He was so frustrated, so sad, and yet he was so powerless in that situation. He couldn’t possibly go after Sirius Black, he didn’t even know where he was. He couldn’t go back in time to save his parents. He could only feel hatred. Intense hatred.

Just when the dark, black smoke of anger started to crowd his senses, his head snapped upwards, his darkened eyes making contact with your unbelievably bright and gentle ones- as your warm hand enveloped his affectionately. The thick smoke vanished in a second, a wave of tears replacing it. He weakly wraps his hand around yours, feeling the small moon-shaped charm on your bracelet to calm himself.

You held him silently, as Ron and Hermione watched him helplessly weep into your shoulder. 

November, 1994 Outside the champions tent

“Harry, you’re brilliant.” You sighed happily, each breath filled with adrenaline as you went to greet him first thing after his first task in the Triwizard tournament.

“Thanks to you, Y/N. You taught me the accio spell.” Harry chuckled proudly, the golden egg heavy in his arms like a trophy worth billions of galleons. 

You rolled your eyes with a grin, laughing as you shove him into the crowd of Gryffindors waiting for him. “No Harry, you just are brilliant. You were amazing.”

You stand there smiling at him and his friends, one by one telling him how they believed him now, and that he was doing justice for the Gryffindor house. That was all you ever wanted for him- to be happy. 

He glances at you with a hint of guilt, his gaze flickering down to the green emblem on your robes for just a split second. If only you were in Gryffindor. He thought multiple times. Because even though he didn’t care at all, the others did. Teachers did. Fate did. 

But you only smile back at him and raise your brows, as if to say “Go, have fun with your friends.” With the overwhelmingly kind look he couldn’t find even if he searched for it in the eyes of the whole Hufflepuff house. Only in yours.

“Why were you talking to Potter? Come on, then.” Pansy pulls on your robes, pulling you away from the bright, cheery crowd of crimson red and yellow.

December, 1994 Gryffindor common room

“You really should just gather your things and come live with us.” Hermione joked, watching you nibble a candy cane while you faced your potions report in the Gryffindor common room that has now become your second home.

Looking up from the parchment at the three of your favorite Gryffindors sitting on the couches, you nodded in agreement. “Honestly, ‘Mione, I would if I could.” 

Harry and Ron burst out laughing, imaging you packing up and moving into the Gryffindor dorms. “You should!” Harry encouraged.

“And- Y/N, have you decided who you’re going with to the Yule Ball yet?” Hermione asked rather hesitantly, her eyes locked with Harry’s.

But you don’t notice, replying “No, the person I really wanted to go with hasn’t asked me yet.” You mutter bashfully, everyone in the room, except Harry knowing who you meant exactly.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure he’ll ask you soon. I know you’ve already got plenty of asks, he should hurry.” Hermione sends Harry a death glare, her head cocking towards you, demanding him to ask you right now. Harry blushed intensely, gazing at you pondering whilst your stare bore into your unfinished report.

“That’s cause Y/N’s the pretty Slytherin princess, who wouldn’t ask her?” Ginny interrupted for a brief second, giggling at your reaction to the nickname the students had given you.

“For God’s sake, Harry!” Hermione blurted out, sending Harry into a state of complete panic.

“Okay! I get it! Y/N, willyougototheyuleballwithme?”

“Huh?”

“Hermione, what’s a god?”

“Ronald, this is not the time!”

“Y/N!” Harry yelled, practically everyone in the whole common room listening now. “WILL YOU GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME!” He screamed, your mouth hanging open as you stared at the chosen one in shock.

After a brief second, everyone bursts out laughing, and in the midst of the uncontrollable laughs erupting from your stomach, you wipe a tear away and scream back, “YES!” 

And the cheers go wild.

June 1996 Ministry of Magic

“Harry!” You yelp, dashing towards the limp figure laying in the sand, ignoring every other adult there that tried to stop you.

Harry, trying to fight the daunting whispers of Voldemort, gets a sudden surge of power hearing your voice. He can feel you close by, kneeling down next to him. The warm, strong yet inviting aura of yours makes him feel invincible as he regains control of himself. 

“Harry.” You sigh a breath of relief as he wakes, clutching onto your arm of dear life. He dives into your arms, and you slide your arms under his, head buried in his shoulder. 

His voice is tired and deep, but you still hear it very clearly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

August 1997 The Burrow

“Love, you look... brilliant.” Harry gravitates towards you in the after-ceremony of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He admires your amazingly attractive figure wrapped up in the gold and royal blue dress that reminds him of the night sky. 

“You’re supposed to say that to Fleur, y’know. But... you look good too, darling.” Your shy, yet bright smile ignites an eternal flame in his heart, wondering how he managed to snag such a brilliant human being. 

“Speaking of, have you seen how beautiful the sky was tonight?” Your soft hand takes his and he lets you lead him out of the crowded tent- if he was being honest, he’d let you lead him anywhere.

“Well, you know, they’re alright.” Harry joked, earning him a light punch on the shoulder from you. “One day, do you think we’d marry under the moonlight like tonight’s?” He knew it was forward, but he couldn’t help but to ask. Every day felt more and more rushed, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be alive the next day, the next week, or the next year.

You squeezed his hand gently, meeting his brilliantly emerald eyes as he desperately searched for an answer in your gaze. “We will. I’ll love you forever, Harry.” 

His heart feels like they’re about to burst through his ribcage, as he hastily closes the gap between your lips. Your lips taste like vanilla, and he savors every second, feeling your warmth, your soft skin, until the moment is broken by the chaos inside.

March 1998 Malfoy Manor

“Throw the three into the cellar! I... want to have a chat with this one!” Bellatrix Lestrange stomps over to you, recognizing your face immediately. She ignores Harry’s cries of threats and drinks you in dangerously. You stand tall, with nothing to hide, even though her presence sends chills down your spine.

“So... Y/L/N, that’s your name, isn’t it, girl? Your parents told me ALL about you, Y/N! Associating yourself with blood traitors! Mudbloods! Friends? With Gryffindors? Hufflepuffs!” She circles around you, like she was debating with herself on what she should do with you.

“Your parents... disowned you, I heard! You! Are a traitor to your blood!” With a swift flick of her wand, a deep cut appeared on your right arm. You screamed in pain, trying to supress the want to collapse on the floor.

“To your house!” Her wand swishes through the air, and another long, claw-like cut. This time almost slicing off your left leg. Your throat itches from the force as you let out another heart-wrenching scream, horrified at what she might end up doing to you. 

You didn’t want to die. 

“Y/N!! We have to help her. Please. Open, God-dammit! Bellatrix, she’ll kill her!” Harry yelled, tears splitting from his darkened eyes in the lit cellar, feeling the dark knot form in his stomach, hinting at something horrible that he felt was going to happen. He continuously banged his fist at the metal bars, but everyone knew it wasn’t going to come down.

Ron held Hermione silently as she cried.

“Bella, stop, her father-” Narcissa Malfoy’s fearful shout made Harry drain all colors in his face. 

“Harry, I love you.” You whisper under your breath.

“Avada Kedavra!” 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the remaining prisoners in the cellar found themselves on the beaches of the shell cottage, all confused on what had just happened.

“No... Y/N, she did this.” Hermione gasped, tears blurring her vision as she looked out at the blue sky that seemed like it stretched out for miles.

Harry let out a pained shudder. Without even checking if you were here or not, he could feel that he lost you. That you were gone. From his grasp. You said forever. That you’d marry him under the moonlight. You said, you loved him. He was supposed to defeat Voldemort, and live the normal life you both craved. The realization that he wouldn’t be able to hear your voice, or your laugh, and he wouldn’t be able to feel you against him, your angelic eyes on him, dawned on Harry’s fragile heart. He let out yells of agony, knowing that no matter what he did, nothing would bring you back.

But you said forever.

“Oh, no.” Lily gulped, seeing that just talking about it pained her father, still. “But I don’t understand, what did she do before...” Lily trailed off, curious as to why your death resulted in the rest getting saved.

“It was ancient magic she used. Even Auntie Hermione didn’t know the incantations to it. She’d only read about it years ago. Before Y/N’s death, the charm would grant her to use one last spell without her wand. She used it on the disapparation and apparation for the 6 of us.” Harry looked distantly into the air, his hand reaching for the bracelet on his wrist.

“This was hers, cupcake. Recognize anything?” Harry held out your charmed bracelet in front of Lily, her eyes twinkling as she figured it out instantly. 

“My name?” Harry nodded with a hopeful smile on his face.

“Lily Luna Potter.” 

-

ps. Lily was named after you. You had always worn the moon charmed bracelet, and Luna = Moon. Many people thought it was after Luna Lovegood, but in reality, it was you.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

[spxllcxstxr]

🧝🏻‍♂️ because I know knitting about LOTR and I want to get into it

Okokokokokok. Ok.

So, getting into LOTR is going to feel scary and daunting, but let me tell you, on your first read through, just have fun with it. You don’t need to understand all of Middle Earth’s history or Tolkien’s many self made languages the first time. I would suggest just reading through and enjoying it and then watching the movies (either versions are fine, but you should watch the extended cut at least some point in your life). And then if you’re extremely into like the different races and their history, then completely dig into the series and every hidden meaning and the rest of his books.

I think that’s the power of LOTR and TH and the Silm and all of his other works. You can just read through them like a normal fantasy series and that perfectly fine. If your one takeaway is that Elves are hot and the Hobbits have the right idea when it comes to living life, then that’s amazing. If you want to actually learn Sindarin or any other language to the point you study and write papers on it, then that’s amazing too!

So just read it and have fun. There are people on tumblr that have memorized the history of middle earth, and there are people on tumblr that are just here to post about the ships (we can rant about that too). No matter what you find yourself enjoying, just know that’s it’s all alright.

I’ve found that the LOTR fandom is really welcoming. They don’t mind if you prefer the movies over the books (which is a whole nother rant), or if you tried reading the Silm and fell asleep. Their memes are great and their textposts are insightful.

So yeah, this rant got long. And I hope that you love LOTR! Whenever you start it shshsjsh

Come celebrate 500 followers with me!

[heathersgameoftag]

preview of next fic under the cut

not me forgetting that i put these on my blog now

“I wanted to do a nice happy greeting, but instead I have to warn you that you have a problem up ahead.’

Betty, Martha and JD had all met them by a window that Duke had happily perched herself on. Well, happy was a stretch. Content might be a better word. She hadn’t exactly been joyful at any point throughout the entire morning, it was starting to get excessive, even for her. It made Heather so sure that she was still keeping a lot from her, even though she had confessed she was upset because of her parents, because there had been plenty of times she had been upset with her parents and she had recovered the next day. It was down to the sad fact of ‘growing numb from it’, but still. She wouldn’t even turn away from the scenery outside, though it was grey and dim, to greet any of the newcomers.

Heather followed Betty’s gaze as she nodded up the few steps next to them. She had been speaking to Veronica, but it concerned her too.

“Oooh, look who decided to show her face,” Veronica commented, having also turned to see the figure furiously marching towards them.

“Oh, she looks mad,” JD said, coming to stand next to her. “And she’s looking at you directly. Good look, babe!” He shoved her forward playfully, to which she grunted at him indignantly.

“I love having support from my boyfriend,” she snarked, before turning back to the huffing girl stopping just a few feet away, glowering at her dangerously. Not that it was scary, Courtney wasn’t all that tall.

“What the hell did you do?” she hissed. Heather just smiled innocently at her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You - or somebody here, knows exactly what I mean.” She shot an accusatory glare to all of them. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. People have been whispering about me all goddamn week, and I want answers.” She reached out and grabbed her collar, sneering, “What did you tell them?”

Heather slapped her hand off in disgust. “You’re delusional,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt for pretty much gaslighting her, but she reminded herself that it was different from when her parents did it to her. Courtney actually deserved it. “I haven’t spread anything about you.”

“It has to be you!” Courtney barked. “I know you’re upset that I insulted your little loser posse.” She eyed Betty, Martha, JD, Veronica and Duke in disdain. “It’s not my fault you let a bunch of nobodies infiltrate your friendship group, I was just pointing out the obvious!”

“Now, if you keep talking like that, maybe I will spread a rumour about you,” Heather said. “How’s, ‘the amount of times I’ve seen Courtney not wash her hands after using the restroom is gag-inducing, to say the least.’”

The group (except Duke) chuckled quietly while Courtney looked disgusted.

“That’s not even true!”

“Doesn’t have to be true. They’ll believe me.” She examined her nails, looking aloof. That only enraged Courtney more.

“You spread something! Tell me what it is, Chandler!” she demanded furiously. “Nobody will tell me. Whatever it is, you’re going to tell me right n-”

“Oh, fuck off, Courtney,” Duke suddenly spoke up, turning her head away from the window at last to shoot her an irritated glare. “Take your damage elsewhere, would you? Literally none of us care about some random preppy bitch scared of what some randos in the school are saying about her. You’ll be forgotten as soon as we all leave for college, hell, you’d be forgotten now if you didn’t constantly whine like a stuck up, spoiled little brat.”

Courtney, as well as everyone else, was understandably taken aback by the sudden outburst. Perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so harsh, had Duke not looked so disinterested. She didn’t even hold her gaze, she just turned back around and gestured for her to leave with a flick of her wrist. Courtney let out a frustrated grunt, but exited the scene and made sure to glare at Heather snidely on the way out. Once she was out of sight, she laughed out loud.

“Oh, she is mad,” she chortled. “Coming up with a non-existent rumour was perfect, Heather.” She glanced at Duke, hoping to catch her eye to give her some praise, but she didn’t turn around. She gave a shrug, to Heather’s disappointment.

The group frowned at her, and while Mac decided to sit next to her on the window sill, she heard Martha lean to Veronica and whisper,

“Is she okay?”

“Um… she’s…” Veronica stammered, wondering what to say that wouldn’t get his head bitten off by Duke.

“Her parents are… getting on her nerves,” Heather quickly said, saving Veronica the stress. That shouldn’t reveal more than Duke would have liked; everyone gets irritated by their parents.

“That’s one way to put it,” Duke muttered, mostly to herself. Mac scratched the back of her neck nervously.

“So, should we go grab lunch? Since we’re all here,” she asked, looking around the group. The mood lifted and everyone agreed.

“I’ll catch up,” Heather told them. “I just need to get today’s question for lunchtime poll.” She left with them down the hallway, but stopped when they reached a turn.

“I also need the bathroom, so, I’ll catch up too,” JD added, hurrying off ahead of the group. Heather went in the opposite direction, and just before she reached the door to the student room, an arm slammed in front of her. She stepped backwards, immediately growing irritated upon seeing Courtney again. Didn’t she ever quit?

“I know you did something,’ she growled. ‘I’m not giving up until you tell me what.”

“Fuck off and stop bothering me, you goddamn leech.” She pushed her arm aside and tried walking towards the door again, only for her to step in her way.

“And here I thought you were wise in picking friends and enemies, Heather,” she hummed patronisingly. “As of late, it appears that isn’t true.”

“I know what I’m doing, so quit acting like I’m falling from grace or whatever you want to call it. Those people sit at my table because I let them. They’re Veronica’s friends, so I’d rather they not be harassed by bitches like you. And, you know, I’m dating one of them, of course,” she quickly amended. Courtney’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re picking loserdome over people actually worthy of recognition now?” She not-so-subtly gestured to herself. “You’re a disappointment.”

“If it pisses you off, that’s fine by me.” She went to step around her, but Courtney wasn’t finished.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play this, then maybe I’ll just find something to spread about you. You know, to make it even.”

Heather laughed out loud at that. “Good luck getting people believing you. Why do you think no one ever bothers us, hm? I make sure they don’t.” She turned to sneer at her. “Spreading lies about me won’t get you anywhere.”

Courtney took a step back, but brushed her threat off. “You’re not exactly as respected as you once were, Heather. Hence my whole warning about the friends you’re picking.” She cocked her head to the side and smirked. “Besides, I wasn’t going to spread a lie. I’m sure behind that perfect little image you’ve made for yourself, there’s something dreadfully embarrassing that you’d hate for anyone to get their claws on.”

Heather did her best to keep her expression from changing.

“Then I wish you luck finding whatever secrets you expect to find somehow. You’ll need it.” She straightened herself up, brushing non-existent dust off of her collar as if the mere presence of Courtney was making her filthy. “Meanwhile, I’ll find a lot of entertainment in your weird obsession with me.”

“It’s not an obsession-”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun stalking me to figure out what’s happening in my personal life!” she sang over her shoulder as she walked away. “Totally not weird of you at all!”

She was soon out of her view, having stepped into the student room to grab her clipboard from Peter. She read over the question several times on her way back to the cafeteria, but it was hard to focus. As amusing as her argument with Courtney had been, the thought of her actually figuring something out did alarm her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. It’s not that she felt insecure about her choice in friends - even times when she thought she regretted expanding her bubble the way she did, she immediately shook the thought away when remembering what had happened last time she had disregarded Veronica’s friends as little more than the scum of the school that she could take advantage of whenever she wanted.

She wasn’t going to go back to that state of mind all because Courtney didn’t approve of her decisions. As daunting as the status quo change had been, she knew it was for the best to rid of that toxic mindset. But since she was making that choice, it seemed now she was an easy target for sabotage. And there was a lot of material one could use, if they found out somehow. Small things, like how her relationship with JD wasn’t real, or that she hasn’t seen a Remington party invite in ages, and didn’t want to see one ever again. Or there were the bigger things, like her actual choice in partners, or her reasonings for being so much more wary at parties. If any of those things got out, she knew it would be the end. Sure, Duke had managed to stay in power, but she wasn’t sure if she could be quite as strong as her if it came out that she was pansexual. Last time people had assumed she was attracted to women, hell had broken loose, and… she never wanted to go through that again.

The exception being her family, of course. That hadn’t bothered her at all. Coming out was little more than a tool to cut them out of her life for good.

She unfortunately found herself wondering if it would be better to separate the lunch tables again; perhaps she’d be safer that way. Not even just her - all four of them would be safe. Then that thought was dismissed upon seeing Veronica so happy to have Betty and Martha with him, laughing as he attempted to toss popcorn into Betty’s mouth from one corner of the table to another. No, she absolutely could not return to the old status quo, even if it benefited her a lot more. She had to stop being so selfish.

Then she found herself wondering, what of her reputation? She wasn’t about to deny that it was definitely crumbling. People still looked up to her, sure, but how long would that last? Would her newfound generosity slowly erode it away until she was just a face in the crowd?

But that thought got chased away while she was travelling around table to table, when she saw JD in the line for lunch, later than the rest of the group due to his trip to the bathroom, probably. A couple of guys were pushing and shoving him, all to cut in front of him in the queue. Well that just wouldn’t do. She marched over and grabbed his arm, pinning all three boys with a piercing glare.

“Is there a problem here?” she spat. Their brave, cocky expressions all collapsed, frightened ones being left behind in their place. They slowly shook their heads, awkwardly and fearfully. One of them stepped backwards in line, as if offering JD his place back, but she just scoffed scornfully and walked forward, until the two of them were right at the front. She felt bad for the girl who was about to grab a tray and walk through to grab her food, but it was worth it to gain the satisfaction of having JD grin at not having to wait in line any longer. When the girl behind them shot them a disgruntled look, she glowered at her threateningly, which got her to lower her head.

“Nice, I love boyfriend privileges,” JD said, grabbing a tray. He stepped aside and gestured to the space next to him. “You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a bit, I still have to bother some people with today’s question.” She stepped away. “See you later.”

So, no, she wasn’t going to change anything about her relationships to get Courtney off her back. If Courtney wanted to try and have her revenge with her, then so be it. If she suffered because of her, then surely, surely it would be worth it.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ninety Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 13th, 2000

Remy resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk in boredom. His professor hated him, he knew all of this, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here so he could just chill in his dorm room, or maybe eat. He needed a break.

“Mister Picani?” the professor cut through his thoughts.

“Hm?” Remy asked, looking back to the front.

“Do you have the answer?” the professor asked impatiently.

“Depends on the question,” Remy replied.

The kids laughed, and the professor’s lips thinned into a line. “See me after class,” he said.

Remy sighed as the professor moved on. Bored and now in trouble, too.

Great.

  January 20th, 2004

Remy did his best to give a stern glance to himself in the mirror, but only wound up wincing as he saw what he looked like. He was wearing a nice suit, complete with one of Emile’s non-cartoon-themed ties. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do today, but this look wasn’t cutting it.

“How you doing, Rem?” Emile asked from the edge of the bedroom.

“I feel like a monkey in a suit,” Remy said, gripping the ceramic counter and snarling at his reflection. “I don’t want to go into the school looking like this.”

“You know, you don’t have to impress your old business professor,” Emile pointed out. “Just because he asked you to answer some questions from the up-and-coming business students doesn’t mean that you have to deal with,” Emile gestured vaguely to Remy’s reflection. “This.”

Remy undid the tie and sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But can I really go in there with a blouse and slacks and expect to be taken seriously?”

Emile shrugged. “If you walk in there with confidence, probably,” he said. “Besides, most of the business students already look at you like you’re a celebrity. You’ve got this.”

Remy sighed and nodded, pulling the tie out of his collar. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll save the suits for weddings,” he said decisively. He stripped as he exited the bathroom, and was in nothing but his briefs by the time he went to the closet. He pulled out a pair of slacks that made him feel more cute than sophisticated, and pulled out that wild diagonal light-blue-and-purple blouse with all the ruffles. “Now this... this I can get behind.”

Emile snickered as Remy slid the blouse down his arms. “What?” Remy asked with an embarrassed blush.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Emile rushed to assure. “I just find it funny that your business professor is going to have to walk you into a classroom full of eager students, you dressed up in a blouse and those slacks that make your butt look fabulous, and admit that he failed to teach you and you still became successful.”

Remy absorbed that information, before offering Emile a shy grin. “Okay, you’re right, that’s kinda funny,” he admitted.

Emile grinned. “See? You’re gonna kill it, Rem. I know you, and I know enough about that class from you ranting to me about it when we were freshmen.”

“If you say so...” Remy said with a little shrug. “I don’t know about killing it, but I’m definitely going to make that professor red in the face, and that makes it all worth it.”

Emile kissed Remy’s cheek and helped him with the last button on the blouse, before leaving Remy to pull up the slacks. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked.

Remy nodded, and the two of them went downstairs, Emile cooking up the eggs while Remy made the toast, because Remy didn’t want to get any grease splatter on his nice blouse. They ate in the kitchen standing up, just like old times in their apartment, and Remy hummed. “You’re getting better at eggs, Emile, I gotta admit,” he said with a little grin.

“Thank you, I do try,” he said. “It’s not fair to make you make all the meals we have, after all, not with your job.”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t mind most days, but I see your point,” he allowed.

They went to the car and Remy fidgeted only a little. He was admittedly, worried. He was an out and proud gay man at the shop, but now? He wasn’t going to the shop, he was going to a college classroom full of freshmen, who weren’t as open and exposed to things like the LGBT community if they didn’t go looking for that. And it was a little scary, thinking that today, he was gonna have to show to these freshmen what gay and successful looked like. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was going to be making an impression on these kids.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, Rem,” Emile reassured.

“I know,” Remy groaned. “It just...it sucks that I have to make an impression on these kids, while barely being more than a kid myself.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I think if this becomes a regular thing, you’ll cringe at your first presentation eventually, but you’d get it done. You’re freaking amazing, Remy. I have no doubt that you’ll make a good impression. And if you have to make an impression, I’d prefer a good one to a bad one.”

Remy nodded, swallowing. They went to the college campus, and Remy’s ears were roaring as his heart pounded. It looked the same as ever, but it felt different to Remy, returning as not a student, not a ride, not a boyfriend, but a guest lecturer. “Oh, God,” he breathed.

Emile smiled, walking with him to the business building. “I’ve gotta get to my classes, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Emile promised. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Remy said, getting a quick kiss from Emile before walking inside the business building.

He felt somewhat self conscious, dressed the way he was, but he walked down the hall until he saw his old professor, shaking his hand. “Good to see you again, Professor Fleming.”

“You too, Remy,” his old professor said. “You were one of my worst students, but also one of my favorites. I knew you could do something like this if only you applied yourself.”

“I guess you were right,” Remy said with a long-suffering sigh.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you,” Professor Fleming said with a smug grin.

“You heard me,” Remy grumbled.

“Nice to hear it, too,” he said. “Shall we go in? This will be all my business class students who are taking one hundred one level. I made sure you wouldn’t have to do this more than once over the course of the week.”

That made the whole prospect slightly more terrifying, but Remy nevertheless nodded. “Sure. May as well give it a shot.”

Professor Fleming walked in, and Remy followed behind him. The whole class quieted when they saw Remy, slouching against the professor’s desk in a bright blouse and dress pants. Remy could feel a slight heat building up in his ears. “Class, this is Remy Picani, the local store owner of Sleep Easy. Behave yourselves when you ask questions,” the professor said, giving the class a stern glance, before moving to sit in a seat in the front row of the classroom.

“Okay...right,” Remy said. “You all by now know my name, and most of you will probably forget it over the duration of the lecture. That’s okay, so long as you remember that I make a mean cuppa joe.” Ripples of laughter went through the class. Remy smiled, relaxing into a more natural pose. “Now, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: I am the exception, not the rule, okay? College isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine. But if you think you can drop out of college, start out on your own from nothing and become a successful business owner? Think again. I only got the property I did through my fiancé’s trust fund. And I only knew what I did about business because I read through all the books that were on the recommended reading list before I even went to college. So don’t look at me, go, ‘If he can do it, why can’t I?’ and try to follow in my footsteps. Not least because of the fact that I value my position as the only small business café on Main Street.” More laughter. “But go on, fire away some questions. I don’t have a structure for these sorts of things, this is actually my first lecture. We’ll go about this process together.”

A hand went up and Remy pointed to the girl. “Exactly how much math goes into running a business?” she asked.

“More than I’d like,” Remy said, laughing. “No, but. In all seriousness, it’s a lot of math. Not only to keep track of sales versus costs, but also number of people each day, reviews, and cash flow. There’s... so much math. It’s exciting, in a daunting kind of way. Like, I had the sort of mind that could have been an accountant. I would have been bored to tears, but I could do those sorts of equations. And make no mistake: you have to be good with those sorts of things in order to get through the other side of business that no one talks about.”

Another hand, and Remy pointed at the guy. “What inspired you to start the business?”

“A string of bad luck and upper management not taking me seriously as potentially becoming one of them,” Remy replied. “They didn’t want me running a shop, even though I knew everything that went into it. So I made my own.”

Another. “Why are you wearing a blouse?”

Remy turned red as murmurs went through the classroom. The professor coughed. “Let’s stick to the business side of things, please,” he said.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll answer,” he said. “I feel more comfortable and confident in this blouse than I do wearing suits. And since I’m my own boss, I can do that sort of thing.”

The questions he answered were mostly business focused, but there was the occasional jab at his dress or his sexuality. It was no secret that he and Emile had their kiss published in the paper.

One hand went up, and Remy inwardly cringed, as he could see the silver cross dangling from her neck. “Yes?” he asked her.

“Is there anyone you don’t allow in your shop?” she asked.

Remy relaxed a little. “Sure. People who are mean to the staff don’t exactly get welcomed in my shop. And then there are the loiterers, who I have to shoo off from time to time. And of course, there’s the homophobes...”

“You don’t allow people who disagree with being gay in your store?” she asked. “Isn’t that bad for business?”

“It’s a college town, I manage,” Remy said with a weak smile.

“But you’re shutting them out for their religious beliefs,” the girl protested. “That’s discrimination.”

“Actually, it’s not. Because you can choose to be accepting of gay people. You can’t choose being gay. There’s a difference,” Remy pointed out. “So I don’t let homophobes who are blatantly homophobic in my shop. Of course, hanging up queer art around the place from local artists probably doesn’t endear my shop to them any.”

“But—”

“Kid, what’s your name?” Remy interrupted.

“Shirley. And I’m not a kid,” she huffed.

Remy shrugged. “Your mental development is years of difference from mine, so to me, you’re a kid. Look. You’re in college now. You’ll find that a lot of people around you will do things you don’t agree with. A lot of people will be things you were taught were bad. And they’re not. You don’t have to join in, you don’t have to be that if you don’t want to be. But your personal opinions shouldn’t dictate anybody else’s experience. I don’t allow homophobes in my shop because I’m gay. I don’t feel safe around them, and like I said, it’s a college town. I manage. But I really don’t want you walking away from this thinking you should discard everything I say because I’m a ‘sinner.’ I may be gay, but I’m also a business man. And those two may have overlap in some places, but by and large they don’t. So don’t dismiss me right off the bat. Sound good?”

The girl sank in her seat and shrugged. “Shirley, see me after the class, all right?” Professor Fleming said. “Thank you for being understanding, Remy, I’m sorry about that.”

“Hey, I’m always trying to educate when I get the chance,” Remy joked.

The rest of the lecture went off without a hitch, and when Emile came over to drop Remy off the keys to the car, Remy felt bold enough to kiss Emile’s cheek. Professor Fleming smiled. “Would you be willing to do this again next semester?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” Remy agreed.

[killian-whump]

Hi! First of all I want to say I love your blog. Your gifs are great and your explanations about whump are very insightful. Your posts are the first I've seen which talk about whump and sexuality. There’s a lot I can relate to. I liked whump as long as I can remember and I just thought maybe I'm a sadist xD Then I learned about whump and that fits really well. So I don’t really know anymore? Actually I’m questioning my whole sexuality atm. (1/)

Hiiiiiiiiiii Nonny! Well, I wanna say that I love YOU, Nonny, because you have really good taste in blogs apparently, and you're also a whumper and I love whumpers with all my heart 💗

Honestly, I'm still confused about my own sexuality. I mean, I identify as Asexual for the most part, but man do I like whump... and whumped men... and kinky stuff. But sex itself is just boring to me and I honestly don't see why other people enjoy it at all. It just seems messy and awkward and totally unnecessary. Sure, orgasms are great, but that's why God gave us all hands and put the good spots right within reach of them, AMIRIGHT?! Given the choice of jilling off for five minutes or spending a night letting some dude fumble around my girly bits in the hopes of maybe accomplishing something worthwhile and waggling his weird-looking boy parts in my face and ramming them in random holes... I mean, the choice is obvious to me which is the superior way to achieve an orgasm or twelve.

I have a lot of super important thoughts about men and sex and penises, but they seem to only be important to me, so...

ANYWAY! There's more to your Ask!

"I’ve never had a relationship (at over 25) and I always thought sex would be like learning to drive. Daunting at first, but enjoyable when you get the hang of it. I get aroused by fanfics, but just the ones were the women are the tops (I’m female). It’s a shame these are so hard to find. Why seem so many women to be attracted to submitting to a guy? Really can’t relate. But I have a hard time imagining anyone would willingly be a sub in real life anyway. (2/)"

I'm on the fence on the whole "doing it in real life" thing when it comes to subs. I've never subbed in real life, and I honestly don't know if I will/would ever have the balls to do it, either. I mean, it requires so much bravery and trust in your partner... I'm not really good at either of those things. But I have MASSIVE respect for anyone who's brave enough to do it. I mean, good for them. Seriously. Especially male subs, since they gotta buck that whole "men can't be weak" stereotype in order to do it.

Topping isn't scary at all to me, but I gotta be honest... I kinda feel the same way about it these days as I do about sex in general - it's a hell of a lot of trouble for nowhere near enough payoff. I love seeing men beaten, wounded, vulnerable, in pain, etc... but it's such a pain making them that way. Can't I just watch someone else do it for me? Maybe just phone a 1-800 number and get a wounded whumpee dropped on my doorstep?

I dunno. I'm just really lazy, Nonny. Anyway... more of your Ask!

"Not that I would mind meeting someone like that. Well, I guess I stick to whumpy gifs and the odd fanfic for the moment. Sorry for this messy ask. I just had to tell my thoughts to someone. I hope you don’t mind.On another note: Have you ever watched something with a non-whumper and they go: They’re so mean to each other. And you have to keep yourself from saying: Yes, that’s why I’m watching this.? (3/)"

Never apologize for messy Asks to me, Nonny. I don't mind them at all :) I like hearing my Nonny friends' thoughts 💗

And yes! I watch things with a non-whumper all the time, actually... haha. I live with my parents, and we watch a lot of TV and films together. My mom knows about my love of whump - but she's definitely one of those "UGH, why does there have to be a torture scene in everything these days?" viewers. She hates that stuff. And meanwhile I'm like

It's kinda awkward at times, I guess, but I'm used to it... and she's really good about letting me know when she watches something or sees a promo for something that she thinks I'll like. And vice versa, since she's not into that kind of stuff, I'll tell her when there's stuff in something that she might not like.

Okay! Gonna answer the last part of your ask separately, so I can fangirl and flail about it like the nutter I am 😀

[madvljacob]

Sexuality - discovering who you really are can be a bit scary, trust me, I know

Whew where do I even begin on this topic?

I begin with stating that I’ve never liked labels, I have never wanted to categorise myself and put myself into any kind of box - for I am fundamentally a free human bopping about on this wonderful earth, searching for sunshine happiness

You’re probably reading this, knowing that I find both men and women sexually attractive and so what can she really write that will help me? Either you feel so lost or so hidden it won’t relate? Well trust me, I was there once. For a very long time (I’ll come back to this later as I’m still a little lost/hidden)

My journey so far

I spent 18 or so years of my life in the heterosexual box - I had momentary steps out of the box before 18, however up until that point I was a firmly self labelled heterosexual

As I started discovering more of this universe, I started to discover more of myself (for i am the universe, the universe is i)

Feelings towards women started out as superficial and unattainable - fancying celebrities (namely cara delevingne and Megan Fox whew u still sexy boo’s) - and this was fine - for everyone looked at women with admiration and so I felt ‘normal’

But there comes a moment in your life (and if you’re lucky enough, you get this multiple times throughout your life) where you meet someone, and you can’t help but feel like you’re exploding inside, real life fireworks, and you don’t have even a second to think about the gender of the person - this is the push I needed to pull myself out of the box I had put myself in

Now, I am a woman who loves who they love, a pure sunshine soul, falling in lust/love with other sunshine souls

God it can be so daunting to flow with that initial push, but trust me, it is liberating. It is freeing. It is everything you imagine it to be: exciting, scary, unknown, alien, the list goes on

My view on life is that it is too bloody short to limit ourselves, in any capacity. And so to let yourself feel fireworks is just what this is all about. I’m not here to be a bystander of this world, I’m here to appreciate and experience every single little thing

There will be times you feel like you are SO lost, not ‘normal’, and completely consumed by the social constructs of this world but you really do just have to say fuck it. Fuck it and be exactly who you ARE to just be so infinitely happy. If being ‘normal’ is suppressing who I am, I don’t want it

Navigating relationships that are different to you can be bloody hard. The unknown. The power dynamic. The sex. The talking. The whole damn game.

And you see me, being exactly who I am, being happy - but remember it was a bloody long journey to get here (one I am still walking). The way I see it is, there is no final destination to your sexuality, it’s a long ole journey. Sometimes we walk, sometimes we stand, sometimes we run - it is an infinite continuum.

Something that recently came to my attention to help people who may be going through a sexuality crisis was a TV series, the Bold Type (namely the character Kat Edison). This series helped to show a humans’ journey for a moment within their fictional life - but bloody hell did it feel like I needed this 10 years ago. Kat embodies everything I wish I could’ve when I was younger - she loves who she loves - she finds love, she finds herself, she falls, it all is there. And this was the first time I felt really truly seen. Rather than seen as a ‘phase’. It made me feel less alone in this world - knowing someone, if even fiction, had gone through the same experience as to what I once did

My advice?

Run, run into the direction your heart is calling you along your journey. For we all trip up sometimes but bloody hell even that can be beautiful when you’re running towards who you really are

Not everyone will agree with your life choices, but that’s okay, not everyone likes Brooklyn 99 - but it’s still a bloody good TV show?? You know?

The moment you start living for your own truth, your own heart, your own soul, everything works out. It just does. I can’t explain it. The universe looks after you a lot more than you think, trust it.

And so, be vulnerable, be fluid, be free, be happy, be you

I know it can be hard to fight with your own brain, but give up. Give up fighting against your brain and completely immerse yourself with the flow of life.

Lost/hidden truth

I say I find men and women sexually attractive, but the real truth is, women spark the fireworks in me that I can’t explain, men simply do not have the same affect on me. I can’t explain why really (you’re probably reading this like, yeah because you’re a lesbian??? - well no, to close myself off to different genders would be premature) - this also applies to all other genders of course.

I am free, I am running towards who I am, stumbling sometimes, but smiling. I am insanely happy with the human I am. I love myself. Truly. Every single part.

I hope you learn to love every part of your being too, for it is the most beautiful thing. We only get one chance at this kids. Be true to yourself. Be vulnerable. Be you. Be happy. Be free.

Peace n love,

Mads xxx

[ya-wah]

Analysis: Just Hold On -- Louis Tomlinson & Steve Aoki

So, I’ve been thinking of doing something like this for a while, because I really enjoy analyzing song lyrics and finding meaning in them for myself. I think all of the 1D boys are spectacular songwriters and especially Louis writes some of my favorite lyrics; there’s so much depth and richness in them and I’m really looking forward to taking a closer look at them! My plan is to work my way through his discography whenever I feel like analyzing something, and then hopefully start doing the other boys’ music as well.

Just Hold On is Louis’ very first solo single (and in my opinion one of his most underrated songs), so this is going to be my starting point. Obviously this is all just my personal interpretation and I’m not stating that any of this is a fact, but I still hope someone else can take something away from this as well!

So, Just Hold On is one of those songs that I never really consciously go back to, but whenever it comes on shuffle I always think to myself, “Wow, I really need to listen to this more.” Even though it is a very different sound than what we ended up getting on Walls, obviously also due to Steve Aoki being on the track, Just Hold On is definitely a solid first release from him, and I wouldn’t have been mad at all if he had continued in this EDM, dance track direction with his music. It suits him very well, plus this song is one of my favorite vocal performances from him, especially the chorus. I also really like that even though it is a more dance-y type of song and you would expect the focus to stay on the production, Louis still manages to sneak in some incredible songwriting.

(Just a little aside, I know the lyrics are generally attributed to Johannah dying, but he has said himself that that meaning just sort of happened later on and it wasn’t intended to be about that, which is why I’m going to leave that aspect aside in this interpretation. I’m not saying that he doesn’t want people to interpret the song that way, because he has definitely talked a lot about that double meaning himself, but I just don’t really feel comfortable talking about his mother in a context where he has said himself that he didn’t mean for the song to be taken that way.)

In general, the song has a very uplifting and comforting tone to it. The speaker is talking to someone who seems to be at a watershed in their life, saying “Hey, I know this is scary, but the things you’re worried about aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. You’ll figure everything out and it’s gonna be okay.” For me personally, as someone who gets anxiety over the stupidest little things and is always fretting about making decisions and irrevocably messing things up somehow, this song feels very consolatory, and it’s a message that I definitely need to internalize and go back to more often.

Wish that you could build a time machine So you could see The things no one can see

This lyric could mean that the person the speaker is talking to in this song wants to go back in time to see the past, perhaps to find comfort in an earlier time where everything was easier and they didn’t have to worry about the things they do now. However, coupled with the “So you could see / The things no one can see”, it could actually (in my opinion more likely) refer to wishing you were able to go to the future, to see how everything is going to turn out, something obviously no one else can see, because it hasn’t happened yet. I can definitely relate to that -- I often find myself wishing that I was able to press fast-forward on my life and go to a utopian future where everything has already worked out for me, so I can skip the hard part of figuring things out and making mistakes, even though those things are essential to growing up and becoming your own person.

Feels like you're standing on the edge Looking at the stars And wishing you were them

The person being spoken to is standing on the edge, they’re at the cusp of something; perhaps they need to make a big, life-changing decision, or maybe something happened in their life that created a disruption of the status quo and now they don’t really know where to go from there. They look at the stars and wish they were them to be able to escape the uncertainty, another feeling I think a lot of people are able to relate to. Wishing you were a part of the stars, removed from all the hardships and hurt on earth, somewhere far away in the galaxy.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again?

Again, this lyric is referring to a turning point in the addressee’s life. When something happens to you or you make a decision that changes everything about your life (when a chapter of your life story ends, so to speak) what do you do with that? Do you go forward and never look back or do you continue to acknowledge the past, even if it might hurt?

Talking about closing the book after a chapter ends without specifying that it’s actually the last chapter of the book might also mean prematurely putting an aspect of your life behind you, when it might not be done yet. After all, who reads one chapter and closes the book? Even if it’s a chapter you don’t like, it just makes up a small part of the whole story and the best parts might be yet to come, however you won’t find that out unless you actually read the whole thing. Another interpretation could be that the person being spoken to thinks they’re done with their past, that they’ve closed that chapter of their life and have come to terms with it, when that’s not actually true and they still have a lot of work to do on themselves or on certain things they’re dealing with.

Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become

This one is pretty self-explanatory in my eyes. When your story is done, when you've closed a chapter of your life, you have the choice if you let your experiences shape you and make you grow as a person or if you cling to the past and want to go back to the way you and things around you used to be. I think it's important to note that even though the latter is generally regarded more negatively and seen as being stuck (even the way I just described it in the last sentence suggests that the correct decision would be to go forward and evolve) the lyrics don't issue any judgment. The choice is truly yours, if you want to become someone new and let yourself be changed, or if you want to stay the way you are now, and the speaker doesn't ascribe any moral value to one or the other.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

This is the most important part of the song, the part that Louis really wants the listener to take away from the song. It's repeated in the pre-chorus, the chorus and the post-chorus (going off of Genius here, I have no idea what these words mean lol), the song is named after this lyric, it's the phrase that turns up the most often.

It’s why I said this was a comforting song: yes, while there might be bad times in your life, times where you don't know where to go and feel like everything is going wrong and you would love to just give up, the speaker is telling you, the only thing you can do is hold on. You can apply that to a personal crisis, to your mental health, to a job, to creative struggles (I personally wouldn't really apply it to a romantic or platonic relationship, just because if everything in a relationship goes wrong the best thing to do is probably to let it end and not hold on). Again, an important point to make: if you hold on, there are no guarantees that it will actually get better, that life will become easier, but you still have to do it, because sometimes that's the only thing you can do.

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what

This refers to what I said in the beginning about how none of the things that seem to be such giant obstacles and struggles in your life actually matter in the long term. The sun will still complete its cycle no matter what happens, the world will still keep turning. For some people, that might seem depressing; along the lines of “No matter what I do, it doesn't make a difference anyways”, but I think this... insignificance can also be comforting. You have all these issues and struggles that seem insurmountable right now, but when it comes down to it, you're just a small and insignificant part of history. For the tiny time span that humans have existed on this earth, for hundreds of years people have had to deal with similar things to you, very often with things that are much harder than what you're going through, so you'll be able to deal with this as well, no matter how daunting and scary it seems right now.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh

It's not over 'til it's all been said It's not over 'til your dying breath

Again, really driving home the notion of the book not being over, of sticking around and holding on, even if it’s hard and even if you don’t want to anymore. There have been so many times in my life where I messed up really badly, or where something so terrible happened and it felt like the whole world would just stop and my life would be over right there. But it never was, and, like it’s being said here, until everything has been said and you have actually taken your last breath, your world will keep going.

So what do you want them to say when you're gone? That you gave up or that you kept going on?

While I have personally not given a lot of thought to this (yet), because I’m in a phase where I don’t even fully know who I am yet, I know a lot of people place great importance on how they’re going to be remembered. At the risk of sounding like a huge emo, it’s like the song Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park: “When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed”. We all want to be remembered, we want to be missed, and of course we want to be remembered as a good person who did good deeds and who never gave up, even if things got hard.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again? Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong, darling just hold on

(Lyrics are from AZLyrics.com.)

So, there’s not really much I can say to the rest of the lyrics, as they’re just repeating what I already talked about. I also want to add that while doing this I rewatched the music video, probably for the first time since it came out, and I have to say, it’s honestly not one of my favorite videos that he’s done. For one, he’s not even in it; I don’t understand the weird time travel thing they’ve got going on (I even checked the time zones for London, Las Vegas and Kuwait in the hopes to get a better perspective on the whole thing, but they don’t even match the numbers they showed on the screen lmao); and I also don’t really see any connection between the song and the video. The couple is cute though, and I like the theme of living in the moment and having fun without a care for the world, it does fit with the upbeat, dance-y nature of the track, even if it might not match the lyrics that well.

I guess this is it then! This was a lot of fun and I definitely gained an even deeper appreciation of Louis’ writing on this song. If you want to, you can let me know if you would have interpreted anything differently, or in what specific way the song resonates with you. Listen to it, if you haven’t done so in a while, and I hope I’ll be able to do Back To You soon as well!

[brynwrites]

I was just wondering if you had any advice for a new writer? More on how to approach writing a book or anything you wish someone had told you, thanks!

THE BASICS OF NOVEL WRITING

First off, you have to know these two things:

Your first draft of your first book will be terrible.

All your favorite authors of all time wrote a terrible first draft of their first book too. Probably a terrible second and third draft, maybe even a terrible second and third book.

This is okay. It can make writing hard sometimes, but the point of writing is not to whip out a masterpiece the first time you type: it’s to have fun exploring new settings, watching new characters grow, and being the first person to ever experience this story–your story–progress!

So, where do we begin?

Know thine story.(or ya know… to don’t.)

Before you tackle any kind of project that will take months, even years, of work you want to first decide what you’re actually doing. In the case of writing, we outline. (Or sometimes, we deliberately choose not to online, but only after we thought about outlining and maybe tried it out a little.)

There’s no wrong way to outline. Every writer does it differently, and therefore there’s about a million different methods. You can instantly find a ton of them using google, and these are a bunch of my own personal outlining tips.

The things you should know by the end of your outline include:

Setting. Where does your story take place? What does this place feel like? (If it were being filmed as a movie, what would the color palate look like?)

Worldbuilding. If you’re using a real place, how much research have you done? If you’re creating the setting from scratch, in which ways is it like our real world and in which ways is it not? (You don’t need to know everything about your world building going into a project, but it’s good to keep track of what you haven’t figured out yet, so you don’t get to the end of the rough draft and realize that everything you made up along the way contradicts itself.)

Main Characters. Who are they and what do they want? What beliefs or flaws are keeping them from getting what they want, or driving them to want something which hurts them? What’s the first trait someone notices about them? (Check out this nifty character creation sheet for some simple development questions!)

Plot. Now, plot sounds scary to a lot of writers, but a plot is just the accumulation of your other story aspects put at odds with each other. Your characters will make choices trying to get what they want, and those choices will effect the rest of the world, which in turn comes to bite the characters in the butt and force them to make more choices until eventually they get what they want, for better or worse. That’s the basis of a plot: it’s everything standing between your character and the rest of their life. (If you don’t have any semblance of a plot, check out these nifty tricks.)

Genre. Specifically, why are you telling this story in the genre you chose? How do the themes and tropes of the genre work with your story? What would the story look like in another genre?

Optional: The Beginning. If you come to the blank page of death without knowing exactly where you’re starting it can be incredibly daunting. Check out my tips on writing the first act for more help.

However you chose to outline, (and whether you chose to outline at all), the most important thing to know going into a story is what will produce the central conflicts?

Conflict drives a story. 

Conflict between characters and other characters.

Conflict between characters and the obstacles to their desires.

Conflict between characters and their own flaws and beliefs.

Even if you have no idea where your story will go or how it will end, as long as you start out your story with a conflict that’s difficult to resolve, you’ll always be on the right track!

Now, to the writing.

For the first draft of your first book, I’m going to suggest this controversial tip: Ignore all the writing advice.

The learning stage of your writing journey (aka the first three books you write) will be a mess of picking up and throwing out advice, and you’ll have plenty of time to do that once you start revising your rough draft, but for now the most important thing is finishing your first novel. 

Write your story exactly how you want to and damn the advice.

Some important things to do though:

Decide how many words or pages you want to write a week and try to continuously hit that. (But start out small! Your writing heroes might be churning out a novel in a month, but a thousand words a week can be an good and ambitious goal during your first novel!) The key is to build a habit. 

Find someone to motivate you! This can be another writer friend but it can also be a non-writer friend you’re comfortable talking about your writing with. Tell this person what you’re doing and how much work you want to put in each week and let them be your cheerleader.

Don’t get feedback yet. If you do have a writer friend cheering you on, it might be temping to send them your work asking for their opinion, but negative feedback tends to demotivate and make you question yourself. If you’re letting people read your first rough drafts, ask them just to be motivational right now, and then save their critique for when you’re ready to edit!  

Don’t even get feedback from yourself. It’s very tempting to stop every three paragraphs and wonder if you could have written them better a different way. And the truth is, you probably could, BUT imagine how much better future writer you (who has finished the whole manuscript and has far more skill than current you) will fix those paragraphs up?! Current you has barely any more skill than the you who wrote those paragraphs last week, so let your future far more skilled self handle it.

Don’t be afraid to change your story and process as you go. If you go into your story believing something specific about it, but you come up with something you like better as you write, you’re allowed to change it. You’re allowed to write it out of order. You’re also allowed to write another story beside (or instead of) the one you set out to write.

Above all: KEEP WRITING. Writing can be tough (even for the best and most skilled of writers) when you stop writing and start thinking, because thinking often leads to doubting and fearing. Just put one word after the next and let your future self worry about whether those words sound good together.

You can find more of my advice about the rough drafting stage here!

So, you have a novel... now what?

Now comes the revision stage. (And yes, you will have to revise. Some writers have to do more revisions than others, but nearly every author worth their salt will have at done at least three drafts of a story before sending it out into the world.)

Just like outlining, there are many ways of revising and each writer has to do what works best for them. Some people rewrite the entire book from scratch. Some take elaborate notes and then rework pieces at a time. Some just dive in and change whatever they don’t like as they read. Here’s an in-depth look at what I do when I edit my rough drafts.

For your first novel, I’d suggest one of two ways:

Rewrite it all. This is a good method if you either changed your story a lot while your wrote or you didn’t have a thorough outline so your resulting story ended up having huge holes. Rewriting is never a waste. Your pacing, dialog, even your prose, will all come out better when you rewrite the same story over.

Re-outline it all. This is a good method if you don’t think you need to rewrite but you don’t know where to begin editing. Read through the story and track everything that happens and then compare it to standard character arcs, three act structures, and so forth. The goal is to figure out how your story compares to the ideal simplistic stories in your genre and then tweak your story to make it closer to the ideal.*

*In no way do you have to stick with traditional or simplistic structures for all your writing, but if you don’t know how and why the traditions work, it’s very hard to produce a great story that defies them.

Once you’ve done some editing yourself, you want to find another writer (or three, or five) who’s of a similar skill set as you and get their feedback. They’ll be able to pick out issues you didn’t notice.

The final thing you’ll have to deal with in the editing process is your prose. Most writers have terrible prose for the first 50k to 100k words they write. Beginning writers who’ve already written short stories or role played or wrote a lot as youngsters tend to have an advantage in this. The thing to always keep in mind is that it’s okay if your first book’s prose is awful. 

You’ll have improved your prose just by writing it, and you’ll have a better grasp on story as well. This book doesn’t define who you are as a writer. If you really love the story, you can chose to rework it further to clean it up, or you can use what you learned through it to write another book that’s cleaner from the get-go. 

THINGS I WISH I’D KNOWN STARTING OUT

1. First books almost never get published. 

A lot of us resist this, because our first books are good, dammit, we worked very hard to make them that way! But the quality of the book isn’t always the thing that holds it back; often the first book we write ends up pretty similar to the more poorly written published fiction, but it wasn’t written with knowledge of the publishing industry and the market. 

And that’s okay! It’s okay to write a lovely book that you put aside so you can publish your second or third or fourth book instead. That first story is still wonderful and it still helped you immensely.

2. Not everyone will like even the best story you ever write. (And even if it’s a literary masterpiece some of them will quote literary flaws as the reason they don’t like it!)

It’s common knowledge that everyone has different tastes in literature and one person might dislike a story another person loves. What’s talked about less often, is that the people who dislike a story based on taste, will often pinpoint specific literary aspects they believe were done poorly. They’ll say the characters are bad, and the plot had too many holes, or the prose was clunky. And they’ll probably believe what they say, and find evidence to back it up.

And that’s okay! As long as the majority of your target audience isn’t finding these things a problem, then you’re in the clear as a writer. Not every reader’s critique is valid and not every piece of feedback is worth listening to, even if it has the lingo of a legit critique.

3. You have to be reading in order to write well. Or, more specifically: If you aren’t reading books, you won’t write as well as you can.

It’s easy to assume that just because we read a lot of books growing up and know how stories work that we can write good ones. And in some ways, that can be true. We can write good stories without reading good stories—but we can’t write great ones.

A writer who really wants to improve their craft should try to read a book a month, or more if possible. If you have limited time, you can read shorter books, listen to audiobooks, or quit any book that doesn’t immediately hold your interest. But do read. Read, read, read, read.

4. If you can’t write a blurb, the problem is in your story.

Maybe this is a little harsh; there’s a lot of skill required to writing blurbs and it does take practice! But whether you have a concise story with characters whose goals and resulting conflicts weave seamlessly into the setting and create an easily describable plot with specific, emotional stakes and hard character choices will be very clear when it comes time to write those down as a 200 word blurb.

It’s so essential to blurb writing to have a tense, well paced, nicely woven story, that writing the blurb while you work on the story’s rough draft can actually help you produce a better story!

5. Sometimes the best stories are not the epic masterpieces but the ones you’d want to whiz through despite its many flaws.

And these stories are worth writing. Don’t feel the least bit bad for choosing to write the book you’d want to read as a ‘guilty pleasure.’

And on that note, if you’re still reading this, go check out my guilty pleasure book Our Bloody Pearl to support my ability to answer asks (and also get a swell read about a sassy, disabled siren and a soft, freckly pirate.)

[blu-joons]

You Struggle With Social Anxiety ~ Kim Namjoon

You felt fine the whole day, excited about supporting Namjoon at a dinner for the band and the staff. It was lowkey, and quiet, at a small restaurant nearby the studio, but as you pulled up to the car park, you couldn’t help but freeze, looking out at the building.

Your tummy began to turn, your heart pounded, a wave of nausea hit you hard. The grip you had around the gearstick tightened, trying to keep the anxieties that grew at bay. This night was a celebration of Namjoon, you couldn’t let your anxieties ruin it.

Eventually you got out of the car, allowing Namjoon to take your hand and walk you to the front door, but as you reached it, you stopped again, looking down to the floor. This time, he noticed, taking you aside as people began to filter in.

His eyes searched for yours, trying to figure out what was wrong, as the panic in you grew, so did your breathing, getting louder and taking a lot more effort.

“Jagi, are you okay? What’s going on?” He asked, cupping either side of your face in an attempt to calm you down.

You shook your head, feeling guilty that you were holding him up from entering his event. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you sighed, but he knew you better than that.

There was a scattering of wooden benches just beside the building which he took you too, draping his jacket over your shoulders to keep you warm. He knelt in front of you, steadying himself by placing his hands on your knees.

“Whatever is wrong, you can tell me, it’s okay.”

“I’m just getting really anxious about all of this, there’s so many people in there, I feel like they’re all going to judge me for being there, like I don’t really belong.”

He shook his head, as your anxieties grew, the more you thought about the daunting prospect of entering the restaurant. He sympathised with you, always, knowing how hard of a battle it was for you.

“I know that it’s people I’ve met before, but there’s something from stopping me walking in Joon. I feel sick right now, I genuinely feel like if I walk in there I’m going to have a breakdown. I’m sorry, but I can’t do it, not tonight,” you sobbed.

“It’s okay,” he replied, standing up to pull you into his body. “I understand, I do. We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to, I can make an apology, say that I don’t feel well or something, they won’t mind. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

It only made you feel worse, he was the sweetest soul, putting you before everything else. You pulled away from his chest, lightly shaking your head.

“You can’t miss this, this is a celebration of you. I’ll go in, and try my best, I can’t have you miss this night because of me. It’s scary, but I’ll do it.” Your head was trying to convince you to go in, but your heart was pounding telling you to run away from it all.”

“I don’t mind, it’s only dinner anyway. I’d much rather go home and order takeout with you and snuggle under a duvet,” he smiled.

“Namjoon, I can’t let you do that, this is all my fault.”

“Stop that,” he begged, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “This isn’t your fault. I just want you to be okay, and if we need to go home for that, then that’s okay.”

Your heart rate began to slow, your hands became less clammy, and the nausea went away, as you gripped tighter on his jacket trying to keep yourself warm. He glanced across at the door noticing one of the managers walking in, he smiled down at you, before following them, leaving you outside all alone momentarily.

He made his way into the restaurant, greeting everyone, before informing them all that he wasn’t feeling too well. He was lying through his teeth, but he didn’t care, he just wanted you to be alright. He excused himself, heading back out to you outside.

“Come on, let’s head home,” he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours, walking along the gravel back to the car. “They all wished me better soon, I feel terrible for lying to them, but you are way more important than any of that in there.”

“I’m sorry that I ruined your special evening?” You frowned.

“Ruin it? Not at all. I’d much rather be at home anyway.” He smiled, “I could see earlier how worked up you were getting, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

Over time, he’d learnt the signs to tell when your anxieties were playing up, and when you were feeling scared. “I didn’t want to be a burden, I wanted to do it, for you, but the thought of all those people watching me eat just made me feel horrible.”

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, “believe me when I say you don’t need to explain yourself. You have good days, and you have bad days, and unfortunately today was just one of those days when your anxiety doesn’t want to be your friend.”

“But I wanted it to be,” you sighed, climbing back into the car, “but as soon as we left the house I just felt sick. Then when I was driving, I felt fine, but seeing the building, and all those faces, I knew I couldn’t face it tonight.”

“We can go home now, and enjoy an evening, just the two of us. I don’t know about you, but a takeaway, a movie, my pyjamas and bed sounds way better than a fancy evening at a restaurant eating tiny portions of food wearing uncomfortable clothes.”

You chuckled, pecking his cheek. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better. I feel guilty that we couldn’t go tonight, so instead I will celebrate you all by myself over a glass of wine, a greasy pizza and the cheesiest film we can find. I hope you know how much I appreciate the fact that you are so supportive, when you really don’t need to be.”

You turned the ignition on of the car, pulling away from the restaurant, driving the short ride home. The two of you were quiet, but comfortable, driving through the hustle of the city, both secretly looking forward to a night at home.

“You know that I support you because I love you, and I understand that times aren’t always easy for you,” he spoke as you pulled up outside your house.

“I love you, but that still doesn’t stop me being thankful.”

You both stepped into the house, quickly making your way upstairs to change into your pyjamas and set up your bed. “I hate that you blamed us missing the evening on you, you should have just said that it was because of me, I didn’t mind.”

He shook his head, “they don’t need to know what’s wrong with you, it’s personal to you. Telling them I was ill was the perfect way to make sure none of them asked questions, and stuck their noses in where they weren’t wanted.”

“Let’s just enjoy the rest of our evening, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me jagi, you pick a movie, I’ll grab a menu, and we’ll have the perfect evening together, all alone.”

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Masterlist