#I got out of writers block so I think that’s a good goal

[alitteraladhdmess]

Sorry for not posting art in while. I’m still waiting for my ceramic piece to get out of the kiln and this week I have finals so I’ve also been studying for that.

I’m working on chapter 2 of Bloom From Oblivion so you can expect something coming soon in a month or so. Maybe less I’m not sure (I’m about half way through writing it)

I won’t post any art till Friday, unless it’s ceramic Donnie. I want to try to put most of my focus on finals.

Arrivederci!

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[kimarii-00]

Meant To Be (1)

Summary: Armando is captured by a gang in Colombia where he is sure he will meet his end. He isn’t sure what he’s done to upset these people in particular, but at this point, who hasn’t he upset? He waits for his inevitable demise to greet him, but he’s confused when all that comes to him are the four bland walls in the cell that he’s kept in. He’s even more confused when their leader comes to him, giving him an… apology?

Requested by: @joykai ! (sorry it took so long to write 😭)

Word count: 2.7k

Part 1/3 (?)

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AN: Hello… LMFAO, I have no idea why this took me so long to get out. At first I just had writers block, then I got a job, school started again, my laptop broke lol, and so much more… And also I was stuck on this for soo long trying to make connections between bad boys 3 and 4, and eventually I just ended up changing the request a little bit to fit the story better, I hope that’s okay!

Instead of the story starting off with bad boys 3, I just made it start off at the end of Bad Boys 4 to better fit the storyline I was going for.

This will probably be part 1 of 3 parts, but there could possibly be more parts depending on how much I want to expand this. The goal and the minimum is 3 though.

I also didn’t edit this very thoroughly so please let me know if there is anything I should change..

ALSO THANK YOU TO @yeahnohoneybye FOR HELPING ME WITH THE SPANISH TRANSLATIONS!! Such a big help tysm! It was a while ago but they helped me with the whole spanish section!

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When Armando was breaking his neck to do his mothers’ bidding, he knew that he had fucked with a lot of the wrong people. Gangs, police officers, and just downright dangerous people, and he knew for damn sure it would come back to bite him in the ass later down the line. Though that thought that used to be at the forefront of his mind slowly retreated to the backburner when he was relatively able to avoid confrontation with the people he may have pissed off in his past. Yes, he was technically on the run… But who really cares about technicalities?

The rescue mission that he was involved in to retrieve his fathers wife and the kid of the police captain he just so happened to have killed took a lot out of him. He knew that he was lucky to have made it out alive. Thanks to his father, he was able to escape on a boat and leave before authorities could get to him since he did illegally escape from prison, even if it was because he was being pursued and had people gunning for him.

He spent a lot of time thinking while he was in the water. He was a free man with the power to go damn near anywhere he wanted… Where would he go now? He didn’t exactly have a solid plan; afterall, he wasn’t expecting to be let off the hook like this. Eventually, he arrived at a place he knew he had connections in. He docked his boat and made his way to the larger house-boat that he knew contained an old ‘friend’ of his. The place was isolated and secured, for good reason. Both he and this ‘friend’ had been involved in some dangerous shit in the past.

He knocked on the door and it took a while for anyone to answer, but he knew someone was home. In time, he heard a multitude of locks being unlocked, and the door opened. “Armando?” The man said, “¿Qué haces aquí hombre?” (What are you doing here man?) The language hit like whiplash.

Armando had spent so much time with his father and other English speaking people, it’d been a while since he’d heard it.

“Necesito un favor.”(I need a favor) Armando said, quickly and to the point.

“Que? Espera, ¿no se supone que deberías estar en la cárcel?” (What? Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in jail?) The man questioned.

Armando sighed but nodded, “Sí, pero ya no. Sucedió alguna mierda; ¿Me ayudas? Necesito algunas cosas.” (Yeah but not anymore. Some shit happened; could you just hook me up? I need some stuff) He said.

The man nodded and stepped aside so Armando could come in. The place looked as dirty and unorganized as it's always been, but it had a homey feeling that came with it.

“Disculpa el desorden,” (Sorry for the mess) He laughed, “Algun dia me animare a limpiarlo, te lo juro.” (Someday I’ll motivate myself to clean it, I swear.)

Armando rolled his eyes playfully, knowing damn well this place would never be clean, “Sí, como tu digas” (Yeah, whatever you say).

Armando explained his situation to him, “Técnicamente estoy huyendo, pero ahora necesito una casa. En algún lugar remoto.” (I'm technically on the run, but right now I need a house. Somewhere remote.) “No importa dónde esté.” (Don’t care where it is)

“Mmmm, ¿una casa? Sí, seguramente tengo algo, pero no es tan remoto como te gustaría que fuera.” (Mmmm, a house? Yeah, I probably got something, but it’s not as remote as you’d like it to be.) He said with a smile, rubbing the back of his head, “Ya sabes lo que dicen: Esconderse a plena vista, ¿cierto?” (You know what they say, hiding in plain sight, right?)

Four months. Four months Armando had been living in Columbia. At first, it was hard to get used to. He lived in a small house in an even smaller neighborhood. It took him a while to wrap his mind around the fact that he was just a normal person now. He kept in contact with his father who’d informed him that he was keeping authorities off of his back, the concept of being on the run now foreign to him.

When he’d first moved in, he was wary of everyone and everything, thinking that just one slip up could cost him his new, peaceful life. After the first month went by without any incidents, he began to accept that he was now just a regular guy.

Everything was going great for him. Almost too great.

Armando had an odd feeling today. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt like there was a pit in his stomach ever since he left his house to go to the one convenience store he came to favor. He found himself looking behind his back on more than one occasion, but he chalked it up to him being paranoid. It would happen every so often, why would this time be any different?

“...Efectivo o tarjeta?” (Cash or card?) The woman at the counter said impatiently, and he realized he was zoned out. He gave the woman what he owed in cash, took his bags and left, but he just couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he continued to harbor.

He walked back to his home, hyper aware of the amount of times he thought he’d heard footsteps following behind him, only to turn around and see nothing that could’ve caused the sound, the rustling of bushes that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand cautiously, the chills that he swore came over him every other minute. But everytime he would investigate these strange occurrences, there would be nothing that could possibly endanger him. Why was he so paranoid today in particular?

Looking back, he definitely had a good reason to be.

He was able to return home safely, but was confused when the pit in his stomach made no effort to remove itself. In fact, he felt it only deepened the further he went in the home.

He figured it was time to get some sleep. Maybe some shut eye would help the queasiness.

He’d made it to the door to his room before he realized that something was wrong, and that the stubborn feeling he was fostering for the past thirty minutes was not just a feeling. The door to his room was slightly cracked open.

He knew for a fact that it was not like that before he left.

Just as he came to this realization, he felt a presence behind him. But he didn’t get a chance to get a look at whatever, or rather, whoever was behind him before he felt a muscular arm wrap itself around his throat and squeeze, leaving him with little air, and hardly any room to fight. He clawed at the arm, and tried to use his own strength to tear the arm away from him and create a chance to escape, loosen the grip just a little, anything.

Before long, he felt black spots dancing around the edges of his vision, and for the first time in a long ass time, he felt helpless.

He was still fighting though, and this seemed to aggravate whoever was holding him, “Just sleep dammit!” A gravelly voice said, his grip somehow tightening even more than before.

“Allow me,” A honeyed voice said. Armando faintly heard the sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floor before a dark-skinned woman came into view. She had a deceiving smile on her face as she looked over him once, and her gaze settled onto the man who was still holding onto him, “Loosen up a bit, would you?”

A loud and dramatic sigh was heard and air began to miraculously flow back into his lungs, and he figured that this was his chance to escape.

He couldn’t even make a move before he felt a prick in the side of his neck, and liquid flowed into him. It made him feel tired easily, and he felt his bones beginning to relax. His eyes lidded, mouth numb, unable to say anything.

The woman in front of him, still smiling sweetly, pulled the needle from his neck. He felt himself slipping farther and farther away from consciousness. Before he could fully fade away, however, he was able to hear his two attackers' conversation as the man let him fall limp on the ground.

“(Name)’ll be happy, this dude owes her a fuck-ton…” The man muttered.

“You know she doesn’t like it when you call her by her name–”

“She’ll let me call her whatever I want when we get this asshole to her.”

“You’re insufferable, y’know that?”

“That’s not what you were saying last night–”

“Just grab him and let's go! God…”

The man chuckled at her reaction, clearly finding it amusing to see her flustered. Armando couldn’t keep himself awake for any longer, and promptly lost consciousness as the man leaned down to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder (rather roughly may he add).

His vision filled with black and his hearing faded to the serene sound of nothingness.

He was awoken by water as cold as what he imagined to be what the water in Antarctica would be like. It splashed onto his face and dripped down into his now damp clothes.

He frantically looked around the room, senses heightened in the unfamiliar place. All he found was the metal chair he himself was sitting in, and an old, dingy light hanging over him that flickered every now and then. He found his limbs to be bound by a tight rope that he could tell were not budging any time soon. HIs lips tightened as he realized his situation. Damn it.

“You’re finally awake, I was starting to think the little miss over there killed ya,” He gestured over to the dark-skinned woman who he hadn’t noticed lurking in the corner of the room. She shrugged and her lips curled into an innocent smile.

“I told you he’d be fine.” She said, nonchalantly. Armando didn’t say a word, contemplating in his mind different ways he could handle the situation. He couldn’t spot any windows or doors other than the one that was in front of him, but he knew there was no chance of getting out through there.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Pissed that you got caught? You know, it took an awfully long time to track you down.” The man said, sliding over his own chair and sitting on it backwards, letting his arms hang over the wooden back of it.

“The boss doesn’t want you dead just yet, to my surprise. If you play your cards right you might even get to live to see another day.”

“Unfortunately.” The muscle man sighed out dramatically. Armando still found himself staying quiet. He knew that, given his past working with his mother, the list of dangerous people he’d pissed off at some point might as well have been a book. These people in particular didn’t immediately ring any bells, but they did mention this ‘boss’ of theirs, so perhaps they’re the one he tipped off.

“You know what you’re here for so what’s the point in biting your tongue? Just fess up and pay up.” The woman said, pushing herself off of the wall and making her way to him. He held eye contact until she reached him and bent down so her eyes were on the same level as his were, “Is your pride really worth your life?”

Silence filled the room, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the burly man begin to stand, looking aggravated at his continuous silence. The woman held her hand up nonchalantly, gesturing to the man to sit back down and let her handle it.

He saw the reluctance but he eventually sat back down, but Armando could tell he was getting agitated. The woman focused her attention back on him. She took her pointer finger and gently placed it underneath his chin, lifting it slightly. She had her usual smile, but her eyes gave away her irritation. “Listen, you understand you can walk out of here if you just give us what we’re owed, correct? Our boss is being awfully generous. Don’t tell me you’re just going to throw away that generosity…”

He let her finish her sentence but he wasn’t hearing any of it. Whatever he owed these people wasn’t his problem anymore, and therefore, he decided to make sure that point was well received by his two kidnappers. He spat a glob of spit right between her eyebrows.

He’d never seen someone look so offended. The fake smile dropped instantly and was replaced by the meanest stank-face he’d ever experienced. Her partner damn near broke his wooden chair as he shot up from it, the chair clattering on the ground.

“I told (Name) this asshole wouldn’t cooperate,” The man yelled. Just as he was about to stomp his way over to a helpless Armando, his phone buzzed.

The man stopped in his tracks. When he took his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widened.

“Jax.” The man said simply into the phone. Was his name Jax, or was he speaking to a Jax?

Armando felt the burning gaze of the woman he spat at, but he favored listening to Jax’s (?) conversation rather than another staring contest with the woman he’d pissed off earlier.

“Right now? But… Y-yes… Yes ma’am… I understand… We’ll be there in five.” The man said, scratching the side of his head. After a few seconds, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and turned back around to face Armando. “Looks like you get to live a bit longer. We’ve gotta bounce.” The last sentence was directed to his partner, who hadn’t said a word in the last five minutes.

She made sure to shoot one last disgusted look at him before following behind her partner and slamming the door behind her. He distinctly heard the lock for the door be secured into place before hearing them walk away. He let out a breath.

The darkness and silence were somewhat intimidating.

He didn’t know how long he’d been left alone. If he had to guess, the minimum amount of time would’ve been at least an hour or so.

As much as he wanted to make the most of it, there wasn’t much he could do. Of course, he could realistically break the wooden chair he was sitting in by slamming it into the ground, and enough force it would definitely crack. But what was he supposed to do afterward? The door was sealed tight, he still had his restraints on and he didn’t know how many people were guarding wherever he was being held at.

Damn.

He wasn’t left with his thoughts for too long though. The door in front of him creaked open much sooner than he thought it would.

He furrowed his eyebrows. A woman walked in slowly, closing the door behind her. It wasn’t the women from before though, and if he hadn’t been in the situation he was currently in, he’d have to admit that she was stunning.

He heard her take a deep breath before letting it out in a dramatic sigh. She walked over slowly, reaching for something in her pocket. Was she going to torture him for information? Shit…

Imagine his surprise when she pulled out a sleek switchblade, but instead of cutting him, she slipped behind him and swiftly cut the ropes binding his limbs together until he suddenly felt strength regaining in his wrists. He wiped his head around in confusion and caution. Is this a trap?

She looked like she was studying him before she let out another sigh, and muttered, “Damn idiots… The wrong fucking person…”

Wrong person?

The wrong damn person?

…

…

…

Low key not happy with the way this turned out since it took me damn near 2-3 moths to finally post it but I figured I should get something out there..

TAGLIST!

@dasaniswrlddd @thedarkworldofhananerea @taylormcguire282 @timebomb1101 @5arlan7 @desiiiisworld @babygurl030 @lovelyme22 @Leavemealing @lewispool @yeahnohoneybye @velocitynyoom @maybepersuasivetom @deadpool15 @believeinthefireflies95 @lxla04 @planetnique @arinotarianagrande @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @hotwomanlythings @themainacc

[oursecretways]

Deus ex machina I.

idol!Minho × fem!Reader note(s): I was listening to the song while I struggled to write and the idea came to me. Might be a bit shorter AND a two parter. genre(s): fluff, slice of life, little angst word count: 736 warning(s): reader thinking badly about themselves

master list ║part 2

where you're stuck on writing your book and Minho just tired and worried.♡

You’ve been sitting at it for hours at this point. Somehow nothing fixed it; you’ve done research, watched your current drama, drew your OCs, watched streams, ate, everything someone can name for writer's block, you did. It has been going on for weeks, at this point you considered writing an email to your publisher that you are giving up. You’ve been beating yourself up constantly, how bad of a writer you are, that you are a failure and that you will never be able to achieve your goals. It didn’t help that your boyfriend, Minho, is in Japan with his boy band doing promotion work for their next comeback. You wanted to be finished by the time he will be home, so you two have time, since the boys got a couple of days off in their hectic work schedule. 

It was passed 4 am when the front door opened — which you did not realize since you’ve been rewriting the same thing over, and over again — Lino quietly walked into the room after he got himself sorted out, thinking you might be asleep, but he was wrong. All he saw that you are slouching in front of the laptop, earbuds in, probably listening to one of your playlists, writing a paragraph, then deleting it, then writing it again. He knows that you always tried to solve the problem like this: going at it until it is solved, although maybe this time you should approach it differently, and he just knew how to. 

He tapped your shoulder, making you jump slightly. You took your earphones out as you looked behind you, shocked. “Min! Wait, what is the time? Oh god, I am so sorry babe, you could’ve called me!” He just chuckles and caresses your face, “I figured that you’d be sleeping, but I was wrong. Why aren’t you in bed? And don’t try to tell me you were just finishing up, I’ve seen you deleting and rewriting the same paragraph.” Minho knows you like he knows the back of his hand, you cannot escape his all-knowing gaze. “Okay, let’s go, we’re going to bed. You can save your progress, but you cannot do anything else, c’mon.” You stare at him in awe — after a while you pulled yourself together, saved your novel, and turned off your PC. He unloaded his dirty clothes into the laundry bin, and got ready for his bedtime. Once you finished packing your thinking, and putting your dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, you joined him. You brushed your teeth, did your skin care, and brushed your hair out; you massaged your neck and shoulders as you walked into your shared room. The smell, and the calming sound of the storm outside hit you just in the right spot; you felt your body starting to relax, as you climbed into your bed, finding a perfect spot in your boyfriends arm. You said your good nights, and you drifted off, not feeling the kiss he gave you on your head nor his worried words.

Your dream was horrible: you couldn’t finish your book, so everyone hated you. Minho was disappointed to the point he broke up with you. Minho woke you up, looking a bit worried, “Y/N! Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You felt like it was silly, so you just shook it off. Couldn’t believe that you would make him wake you up just after a couple of hours of sleep, because you’re incapable of doing your job. You took a shaky breath trying to fight off the thoughts that yelled how worthless you are, or how you just got lucky, but you don’t deserve any of this. Minho made you turn to him, “Okay, this ain’t funny anymore, let’s be honest with each other. I see that you are stuck with your book, I assume you got into a slump. I will help you with it once we slept enough, but it is time to tell me what’s wrong, Missy” His firm, but kind voice is what broke you: you started crying talking about how you are a horrible person being for not waiting him more appropriately, how you cannot just write what you need to write and so on. When you looked up, you anticipated a disapproving Lino, but all you saw is concern. He pulled you closer, and hummed you sweet melodies until you fell asleep. 

🏷️(open)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism and their silly lil hobbies

My headcannons of their less obvious interests!

Daniel: now he's in the fashion department and earning some money, he guesses he should take more of an interest in current trends. He's still wearing Jay's castoffs and he's happy with them but he takes a huge interest in women's fashion for his momma. She's worked hard and she deserves nice things and Daniel wants to spoil her 🥰

Jay: his hobby? Daniel. His thoughts? Daniel. His dreams? Daniel. But guns and motorbike? This boy has a thing for Hollywood action films and he has pretty good taste too. Classics-ish such as Matrix, Terminator, John Wick

Zoe: she loves watching animal rehab videos on social media, and even the videos of newtubers helping out homeless or down on their luck people. Most of it may be scripted but the act of kindness (even for selfish purposes) makes her melt

Vasco: you think this man doesn't have a Pinterest account? He doesn't spend his spare time putting boards together? His boards aren't public? He's not ashamed. He's got at least 1 for parties, 1 for golden retrievers and 1 for Hero Man pics

Jace: kdramas, the more romantic with as many tropes the better. He likes a good story filled with miscommunication, lots of crying, scenes in the rain and open eyed kisses 😳

Zack: sneaky little hobby of reading up on supernatural shit. After running into the ghost of J High, he's been absorbed with ghosts and demons - in particular how to avoid getting cursed...

Mira: meditation. Putting up with Zack all the time and the violent boys, she needs her moment of peace before she gets overwhelmed. She's also had some pretty traumatic experiences, so this helps her to centre and recollect her thoughts

Johan: unironically a sneakerhead. Started off researching expensive shoes so he can recognise them but now he's fully into the hobby. Way too tight to buy any for himself when he could be saving for his momma's operation but it's nice to window shop 🥺

Vin Jin: we all know he would be twerking to Dukes music. But apart from obviously his music (cos music is his life yknow), he would be leaving hate messages and death threats on Dukes social media and fanpages. He hate watches Dukes live streams but cant stop the twerk creeping up on him

Mary Kim: she's in the Vocal and Dance department but this girl can shred like no tomorrow. She has a band she's the lead vocalist and guitarist of that she keeps off Vins radar so he can keep the shitty rap to himself

Crystal: hiking and the outdoors. It's a way to keep her second body fit and get away from her desk and all the business bullshit. During the days that Gun acts as her bodyguard, she tells him to stay at least 50ft away so he doesn't ruin the mood

Jake: memelord. Cos at least humour is free. He collects pics and memes, and has so many shitty dad jokes up his sleeve to send to the Big Deal members and groupchats that he often gets kicked out or blocked. Hearing their exasperation at another one of his messages always brightens up his day

Samuel: lol drinking as a hobby. this man should be spending all his spare time in therapy but can't win them all 🤷‍♀️ Doesn't do much on his own time that doesn't advance his goals but enjoys sipping on some smooth expensive shit. Not the best for his health, but he needs something to block out the demons

Lua: not the queen of info for nothing. Spends a lot of her time on social media, forums and the dark web reading up on info (and gossip). Shes also kicked up a gear with her Muay Thai training so the assholes in Big Deal would stop underestimating her

Sinu: all that time being locked up with that little bit of chalk? You know what he did? HE'S A FIC WRITER. Headcannons of Big Deal, Sinu X Yeonhui. What the guys would be doing now, what sort of girlfriend Yeonhui would be (I wrote this as a joke but it's pretty depressing)

Gun: you thought that was a casual notepad and pen he had on hand for brekdaks autograph? No bitch its his actual autograph book. He lives and breathes fighting and fangirls a little internally meeting his fighting idols

Goo: anime and boardgames. Yes yes he's a nerd ok. He watched 1 too many anime shows and in his head he's the protagonist fighting his way to the top, with his sidekick Gun. But who do you think left all the boardgames in that shitty house? Gun is boring and Goo needs entertaining. It's one way to let them get competitive without beating the shit out of each other... Usually

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

Hi! Ask game for a brief snippet. 💕 with helen and nikola please : )

Hi! Thank you! :)

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

Okay, this and following asks are not brief snippets, because they really helped with writer's block, so they're full blown scenes/little one-shots. Hope that's okay!

--- "What the hell happened to you?"

"You always know how to greet a woman, Nikola, I truly appreciate it."

Nikola wasn't swayed by Helen's sour tone.

What he was more concerned about was the fact that she had come limping into the room, smelling like a campfire mixed with blood, hair in messy disarray, face smudged with dirt, and pale beneath that dirt.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Nikola felt his nostrils flare as the tang of blood became stronger the closer she came to him, and he saw droplets of blood on the floor where she had walked.

He marched over to her before she could reach whatever goal it was that she had, because it clearly wasn't with the intention of taking care of herself.

Before Helen could protest, Nikola scooped her up and headed out of the room with her.

"Nikola! Put me down at once!"

"Not a chance."

"I need--" Helen started, squirming enough that Nikola gripped her harder so that he didn't accidently drop her on the floor.

"You don't need to be doing anything, because we both know if the situation hadn't already been contained, you wouldn't have wandered away from it. The children can handle whatever it was that you were getting ready to do."

Helen huffed and tried to push herself out of his arms again.

"Your health is more important than your dignity and pride, ljubavi."

Helen was silent the rest of the way to his bedroom, where Nikola walked to the bed to place her on it.

"Nikola, I'll get blood--"

"I don't care about the blanket."

He gently dumped her on the end of the bed and pointed a finger at her.

"Don't move."

The way Helen's head dipped and her shoulders sagged told Nikola that she was hurting enough to stay put, which wasn't good.

In the bathroom Nikola got out the medical kit he didn't use, but Helen insisted everyone have in their bathroom, because she knew them all well enough to know that they weren't always going to go to the infirmary for various reasons.

Not that Nikola actually needed the kit, being a vampire.

He walked back out into the bedroom and dragged a chair over so that he could sit facing Helen.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked, though his eyes had already found the first gash in her leg, bleeding enough for it run down her boot.

"It--" Helen broke off at the look that he gave her. "Everywhere?"

"And what were you doing that made you hurt 'everywhere'?"

"An abnormal in the city. Running wild. We weren't as organized as much as we needed to be. We had to move quickly."

Nikola didn't bother asking what sort of abnormal it had been, because he didn't really care. It was a creature, it would be safe here, it would have everything it could want or need in the habitat. What more did he need to know?

Judging from the size of the wounds on Helen, it wasn't even small enough for him to sneak out for an experiment if needed.

He studied the gash, looking at Helen.

"Do you think you'll need stitches?"

"If I do, I'll do them myself."

"Don't trust me?"

"I'm more skilled."

"Oh, those are fighting words, Helen. Remember that."

Nikola reached up to undo the button of her close fitting jeans.

"Nikola!"

Helen batted at his hands.

"I need to remove them to get a better look at the injury." He grinned at her. "I don't see why you're suddenly considering this a breach of your modesty, because I believe I've...defiled it quite a bit already."

He smirked at her, even as she gave him a look that would have had him flat on his back if expressions had been capable of doing harm.

But he was worried about her, despite his teasing.

Helen didn't readily admit to pain or give into fussing over her like this. When she was doing so--perhaps not readily, but doing so--it was enough to cause concern.

She undid her jeans herself and Nikola pulled them down enough to get a look at the injury and no more, deciding to humor her for the moment.

Now that he could see her thigh and knee, the gash didn't look as bad as he'd feared, but her knee was red, a little swollen, and giving off some heat.

She had clearly twisted it and probably badly enough she shouldn't have been walking on it like she had been.

Nikola knew better than to scold her for this. What Hlene needed from him right now was to tend to her, even if she was going to grumble about it.

Helen was sitting and watching as he cleaned it, finally giving him leave to do the stitches.

When he started to clean it in earnest before numbing the area, Helen dropped back fully on to the bed, letting out a shaky breath.

"Where else?"

He numbed her and started stitching, being as gentle and thorough as he could be, admiring the soft but toned skin of her thigh as he did, eyes picking up on faint scars from some adventure he didn't know about.

Helen didn't answer and Nikola glanced up at her, just to make sure that she hadn't passed out or something.

She hadn't, but was biting her lip and staring at the ceiling before she closed her eyes.

Nikola finished with the stitches and gently kissed them once he had, making Helen pop up on her elbows.

He did it again, just as gently, then patted her thigh and turned his attention to her knee.

"Ice?"

"It couldn't hurt."

Nikola kissed her knee too.

"Coming right up, madam."

When Nikola got back to his bedroom, he found that Helen had gotten most of her clothes off, which were in a mostly black heap on the floor, leaving her in her panties and bra.

The stitched gash in her thigh was a stark contrast to her pale skin and her ribs were mottled with bruises. There were also various scrapes and bumps, but none that concerned Nikola as much.

"Helen..."

Helen looked at him, looking tired and vulnerable, face creased in pain.

Nikola didn't say anything else. He gave her the ice, dug out some aspirin, and filled a rinsed out wine glass with water from the bathroom for her to down the pills, knowing she wouldn't tolerate anything stronger.

Once he was satisfied she was comfortably situated on the bed, he dug out one of his shirt and gave it to her.

"Are the others as banged up?" he inquired, easing himself down beside her.

"No."

"Do they know how much you are?"

"No."

Helen winced as she shrugged on the shirt and Nikola gently tugged her down, examining her ribs, kissing her there as well, though he wasn't sure why.

Helen drew him back up and tucked her head against his shoulder.

"It's okay not to be okay." he told her.

"I know."

It was enough that she let herself be that way with him, but Nikola wished that it didn't always take the pushing that it did. She was too damn stubborn for her own good.

He reached down to button the shirt for her, not wanting to make her feel more exposed than necessary when he was fully dressed and not hurting beside her.

Helen pressed a kiss to his shoulder and lingered, letting Nikola rest his cheek against the top of her head.

"Thank you, Nikola."

"Of course."

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hello. I've been binge reading your meta post an I loves all of it. I have one question, though I don't know if you had the same question or not. If you had I'm sorry feel free to ignore this but if you hadn't, this is my question. Many people said Adrien as sentimonster is a good plot and the other said it's also good metaphor for abuse children. But what do you think about the senti plot? Is it necessary? And what do you think the writer is trying to achieve with the plot if Adrien doesn't even allowed to know about what he is?

Thank you! I'm glad that you've been enjoying my rambles! I don't think I've touched on those aspects of the sentiplot, so here goes!

Is it Necessary/What's The Goal?

I don't think that the sentiplot is even remotely necessary. My two cents is that it reads like something that was added relatively last-minute in order to add some cheap drama to draw the plot out because they didn't have enough content to organically fill seven seasons. Part of the reason that I'm comfortable saying that is because we've seen the writers do this type of move many times before. I don't wanna get too into the weeds on this, but a good example is the love triangles with Luka and Kagami.

Luka and Kagami are never treated as real alternate love interests. They're just road blocks on the love square highway that allow for seasons three to end on a cliff hanger. The fact that season four opens on two episodes meant to reassure the audience that Lukanette and Adrigami are doomed to fail is proof of this. No one is actually supposed to ship those ships. There's no Team Luka vs Team Adrien. It's just cheap drama.

The other reason that I feel comfortable calling the sentiplot cheap shoehorned drama is because the sentiplot has no teeth. A big reason why I refused to believe that it was going to be a thing was because it's an extremely serious plot that has no place in a Y-7 show. The wielder of raw destruction can have his free will overwritten at any time! The show has made jewelry theft a common teenage past time! This is bad!

And yet, once it's introduced, it goes nowhere. Gabe gives the most lackluster commands humanly possible and Nathalie undoes every one of them before they have a chance to meaningfully impact the plot. The biggest fallout of the sentiplot was that the Adrienette kiss got delayed a bit. How terrifying.

If the sentiplot had the weight it deserved, then it would have destroyed Adrientte in a big, dramatic fashion. Gabriel would have commanded Adrien to date Kagami and Tomoe would have done the same for Kagami re Adrien. But that's too serious, so we don't even get Gabe telling Adrien to break up with Marinette. He just tells Adrien to not see her and Marinette never has any clue that something went wrong there because Nathalie undoes the command two minutes later.

The Sentiplot's and Emilie

You may have read the previous section and thought, "But wait, doesn't the sentiplot give an explanation for why Emilie used the peacock? Didn't we need that?"

No, we didn't. Felix's little play and Gabe's memory of the night they used the peacock both heavily imply that no one knew that the peacock would kill you. It's why Felix exists! His father did not willingly give his life to have a kid and neither did Emilie. It was an unknown side effect.

Imo, it would have actually been better if Emilie hadn't used the peacock for such obviously selfish reasons. I mean, is anyone really saying, "Oh no, the rich lady used forbidden magic (and possibly killed some people?) to get a designer baby, then faced unexpected consequences! How awful for her! She didn't deserve that!"

Wouldn't it have been a far more interesting and complex story if Emilie used the peacock because she wanted to help someone else? If she was an unambiguously good person who suffered for doing the right thing or even just a morally gray thing? Wouldn't that make Gabriel's quest feel more righteous and less like a temper tantrum by a rich, entitled white guy who used his wealth in a morally dubious manner and paid for it?

The Sentiplot as an Abuse Metephor

I don't think that the writers meant for the sentiplot to be an abuse metaphor. In fact, I sincerely hope they didn't because it's a terrible one! Or, at least, a depressing one.

Abuse - especially childhood abuse - is something that sticks with us. A lot of victims will be forever scared by what they went through. But just because they bare scares doesn't mean that they're trapped by their abuse and can never break free. This is true even if the abuse caused mental health issues like PTSD or CPTSD, conditions that can never be cured because you know what they can be? Controlled and mitigated to the point where the victim is no longer ruled by their condition.

There's also the fact that abuse victims - especially child abuse victims - can and often do reach a point where their abusers no longer have any power over them. I have personally seen a child abuse victim go thought the process of realizing that their parent is just another adult now. All the power that the parent once held is gone. The child doesn't depend on them for food and shelter anymore. If the abuse starts up again, then the child can just get up and walk away.

That's not true for a sentimonster. Sentimonsters don't grow up and get more agency/power. At any point, their abuser can get ahold of their amok and override their free will, taking away the sentimonster's freedom even if the sentimonster is on another continent! There is no means of true escape.

No abuse victim will ever be that powerless. Abuse victims can escape abuse and they do have true free will. Sentimonsters will always be sentimonsters.

Is the Sentiplot Good?

No. It's too serious for a kids show. In fact, now that it's canon, here's my two cents: all of the sentikids are massive liabilities to the team who need to give up their miraculouses immediately because they can never be truly trusted. Felix has shown us time and time again how easy it is to steal an amok and replace it with a fake, so we must always assume that the sentikids are compromised because to assume otherwise is to invite the miraculouses to fall into the wrong hands. It's just not worth the risk to trust a senti.

Along the same lines, the love square should never be canon unless Marinette gives up Guardianship because Adrien is a liability to the safety of the miraculouses even if he didn't wield on himself. The only way to get around this issue is to use the wish to make the sentikids human, but Gabe failed to even do that one kindness for his son, so here we are. Season six will either drive this point home by having Lila use the amoks to mess with Adrien or it will drop the sentiplot forever, proving just how cheap and poorly thought out it was.

Other issues I think I've already addressed in other posts, but that are still a problem that make the plot bad:

a sentimonster's creator defines the sentimonster's worth, thus there being no issue with Felix making sentimonsters and then killing them or the heroes destroying them, but it would somehow be wrong if we did the same thing to any of the sentikids

any command you give a sentimonster can be overwritten and sentimonsters can't resist even if they know they're being controlled, so there's truly no hope to free them

giving your leading lady anxiety issues and a boyfriend whose free will is constantly in jeopardy is cruel and unusual punishment

an insane number of lore issues like why is it impossible to destroy other sentimonsters, but Adrien can be destroyed in akuma fights? Cataclysms are pure destruction! It makes no sense that akumas can do what a cataclysm can't. And is Adrien able to die a natural death? What happens to his amok when he does? Will his children be able to be controlled by his amok too since they're part of him?

the lore around Gabe & Emilie finding the miraculous makes no sense and should not be possible. That's another rant, though.

[duchezss]

Once in four years mcsm hyperfixation is back baby, and on this most recent rewatch some interesting patterns popped up for me. Honestly this might not be a new conversation, but I had no idea the fandom was still so lively. I've loved this game since it first came out and I really love that so many people still talk about it. Anyways, disregarding S2 for a moment (my opp), I think it's so intriguing the way the writers set up S1 and the art of history repeating itself.

The Order of the Stone were (supposedly) the greatest group of heroes that every lived, but they started out as something so much simpler. They were just friends who wanted to go on adventures and maybe make a difference in the world. Of course their trajectory and outcomes were much different from the modern crew, but in many ways they're still similar. I'll get to the in a sec, but I wanna talk about the originals first.

The original Order kinda breaks my heart, because frankly I think their intentions were good, they just lost their way and got caught up in the glory, not the adventure. They all make it seem like they've known each other for a lifetime, so it's easy to assume that even if they hadn't seen each other in like a decade, they had still known one another for practically twenty years. Soren describes their first adventure like a shot in the dark, and how they were so young. So my guess is they met in their late teens/early twenties, the same age I assume the modern crew is when their story starts. Yes they're all bitter in the main story, but their history seeps into every interaction. Magnus called Ellegaard, Ellie, and it might feel malicious at first, but he still uses it after she dies, which leads me to believe it started out with affection. Then there's Soren and Ivor, who were constantly fighting and at each other's throat. This makes me feel like there might've been a point when they were the closest. Magnus and Ellegaard seem almost relieved to see Ivor, even after they know what he'd done. The command block had led them to great success, but it also ruined the one real thing they had, their friendship with each other. Honestly I think the most heartbreaking thing is they were so close to reuniting again, but Magnus or Ellegaard dies, and Gabriel doesn’t have his memory. Then when the dust finally settles, Soren is gone. Ugh just tragic friend group save me, they are the ones that made me realize how much I love the niche trope of a friend group "haunting the narrative". Their friendship and fallout is what causes the events of the entire story, and thus thrusts Jesse into action. If they had never been friends there would've been no Wither storm, their actions led the modern crew to where they are now. Anyway mini rant over my fault, but how does that effect the crew? Well honestly it felt like they were doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

There's Jesse, the fearless leader who always has the answers and a plan for that matter. Caring, direct, and motivated, she begins the story feeling like she is destined for more. She would do anything for her friends and she's a quick learner in a life she doesn't fully understand yet. Soren was likely the same, he was trying to herd three maniacs and a genius together, and something tells me the leader role wasn't his original goal. He thought the command block was helping, when he was really just fighting his friends battles for them. Soren's life became one of solitude and guilt, one I think Jesse was perhaps destined to as well. The courageous leader doomed to isolation and doubt, unable to comprehend the road that led to their downfall.

Petra's pessimistic and sarcastic nature defines her a first, but it's clear that she's so much more than meets the eye. She's determined, chivalrous, and sometimes (overly) reckless too. Above all she strives to be a protector, of people, of her friends, and of her ideals. That's what keeps her from laying down her sword even though she longs for a life without battle. History says Gabriel was the same protector, even if we truly know him to be different, but this isn't about reality right now. Regardless of this they were seen as the fighters, with the only enemy too strong to beat lying in their imagination. The brave warrior doomed to die and lose their self in battle, interpreting life as nothing more than a fight to be won or forever lost.

It's hard to say what else describes Axel but bluntness. He's an out of the box thinker who can perhaps be slow at times, but he makes up for it when it really counts. He holds his friends close, and views others in a hostile matter (for better or for worse), and at the end of the day his hard exterior is easy to see right through to those who matter. Magnus is spunky and edgy, and rolls his eyes at the mere mention of the others, yet like Axel, it's simple to see right through him. His love for the others is something he shields, and it's clear he does this by pretending his life is perfect the way it is. The maverick doomed to surround themselves with a false sense of community and leadership, forever unaware of all that lies out of their reach

Olivia is intelligent, innovative, and practical. She usually prefers a simple solution but that's not to say she can't also have fun. She's compassionate and curious, and enjoys going through hypotheticals just to be extra prepared (or simply for a easy pass time). She's amiable and while her skills aren't exactly adept, it's clear she has a desire to learn. Ellegaard is a similar, and although she's jaded and has far more of an attitude, it's not hard to believe she used to be similar in her youth. It's also very likely they would have the same coping methods, focusing on red stone is far easier than focusing on others. The brilliant engineer doomed to surround themselves with their machines and inventions, who instead distance themselves from any real connections.

And finally there's Lukas. Selfless, kind, and impeccably loyal, in some ways he's the glue that held them all together. His intense desire to meditate got them out of a few fights, even if his presence initially caused them. He's the resident worrier of the group, and his only goal is to make sure his friends are safe and sound. Glory and adventure are the furthest thing from his mind, they're just a welcome bonus. Ivor clearly cared very deeply for the group, because he was the most hurt by Soren's secret. Even after his anger at them, it's evident they were never far from his mind. He tried so much to get them to see reason, but it was all for nothing. The permanent outcast, doomed to try the best they can to save the group, but who will inevitably be the one to ruin them all.

Of course those fates didn't really fall on the old order, that was just what people expected of them. Soren understood very well what he did wrong, Gabriel lived on, Magnus or Ellegaard died, and Ivor didn't ruin them, he just exposed them (even if his wither storm did kill one of them, but that wasn't really the point). Yet what truly happens in history, versus what we've been told or come to expect are quite different. I just think it could've been interesting for the writers to play into this predetermined fate the group already had, perhaps they would accept it, or maybe they would run from it so fiercely that they end up right where they feared. Or maybe their friendship was enough, and they never got wrapped up in the greed or the glory. Obviously that's not where S2 went at all, but it's was just something interesting to think about.

[julianalvarez9]

hair too long / kai havertz

summary: when your boyfriend comes back home after training, he doesn't know why you're acting strange all of the sudden.

wc: 880 words

author's note: referencing a song by the vamps bc i didn't know what to title this. first time writing for kai jaksjsj kinda nervous ngl. had a bit of writers block lately so that's why it's short 😭 dedicated to @oh-saints bc they're the devil in my shoulder convincing me to not let the idea go. hope you like it either way 🫡

it was fairly early to start on with your day, so that's why you were still laying on the bed, too lazy to actually get up and start ticking things off your to-do list. you were about to get up to make breakfast, after becoming quickly bored of your social media feeds, until, a video with your boyfriend's face graced your screen. you smiled at the chance of seeing him, even if you had seen him through sleep filled eyes before his departure to train. he was about to come home either way, but you still missed his presence in the house, and hearing his voice always made you feel giggly inside: even after all this time together.

"oh, i need to go to the barber again," kai joked when the video started, passing his fingers through his dark wavy locks to rearrange his hair to look good for the camera. he then continued talking about his last goal scored, gushing about enzo, amazed at how easily he seemed to have gotten the ball onto his feet: so easy that your boyfriend had initially thought that he was offside.

truth is, you weren't really listening after he had joked about cutting his hair. you liked his current hairstyle too much, longer than the last few months when he had kept it rather buzzed. it's not that you disliked it before, because to you, he was handsome either way, but you preferred it a tad bit longer: enough to run your fingers through his locks, gently caressing them.

the thought almost didn't leave your mind during the morning, thinking about ways you could convince him of keeping this hairstyles a bit longer while you got through the things in your list. you knew that the main reason he didn't leave his hair get this long was to keep things practical and avoid it from annoying him during the games, but you were hopeful that you could find a middle ground.

eventually, your boyfriend came back home, and although you were dying to be on his arms again, you tried to play it off when he started to wander through your shared home, looking for you. it didn't take long for him to find you, already drawn to the kitchen by the noises that the utensils you were making lunch with made.

kai got a hold of your figure, embracing you from behind while nestling his face onto the crook of your neck, leaving a little kiss there that made you squirm under his touch. "what's wrong?," he said, his characteristic accent lacing through his words. he was tilting his head slightly, confusion clear in his features when you didn't turn your head to give him a proper kiss. he made you turn around, gripping your hips a little bit tighter, and trying to find your gaze to see what had gone wrong while he was at cobham. "you don't love me?" you asked seriously, keeping the smirk from forming on your lips. if he got to see even a glimpse of your smile, your lie won't be believable, and you wanted to make him suffer, even if it was just for a little while.

"why are you asking that, liebling?," kai asked, confused about your change in demeanor. he remembered you kissing him goodbye before he went to training, and everything seemed to be fine between you two. "of course i do," he reassured, kissing your forehead lovingly. eventually, you decided to put him out of his misery, only when he lifted his eyebrows in question when you weren't emitting any sound. the smile betrayed you at the end, before your lips confessed the truth. "you tell me, mr. 'i need to go to the barber again'".

kai tilted his head back, laughing in disbelief at your antics. "you like it like this, then?" he asked, one hand departing from your figure to get his fingers through his hair, at which you smiled while nodding. "yeah, it makes you look cute," you pointed out, scrunching your nose while smiling cutely at him. he grinned at your reaction, planting a little kiss on your nose. the words seemed to have sink in a bit after, because when he lifted his head back up he changed his soft expression from before. "cute?" he frowned, clearly dissatisfied with your answer. "i was expecting hot, handsome, not cute".

smirking, you nonchalantly commented, "well, i'm sure it would be hot if i get to pull it when you're between my legs, you know?". kai seemed to get your hint, dropping his head back down to capture your lips into a kiss. it was slow and soft at first, confirming the love he had for you, even if he knew your doubts were only for the joke. eventually, your hands went from his neck to the top of his head, slightly tugging on his hair. he intensified the kiss then, deepening it and biting your lower lip eliciting a moan to fall from your lips. "do you always have these dirty thoughts when i'm not here, schatzi?".

"why don't you figure it out?" you smiled devilishly, and he gripped your waist a little bit tighter before starting to step backwards until you reached your bedroom door.

[sowoozoo-7]

Love, Lust & Litigation | Interlude - NYE (Namjoon POV)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

A/N: It's been a long time coming but here she is! The next installment of LL&L! This takes place in the middle of Chapter 5. More about it in the A/N at the end. Thanks for all your patience as I got over a bit of writer's block (and writer's unmotivation lmao). This is my first time writing a member's POV, so hopefully I did it justice!

As always, I’d love feedback if you have any! Enjoy ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6

Namjoon Kim doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions. 

It’s a stupid concept, in his humble opinion. Not only is it an arbitrary date to make a change, most people spend the first day of the new year recovering from the night before. Can anyone really make any progress toward their goals while nursing a massive hangover?  

No. If Namjoon wants to make a change, he’ll just do it. He won’t wait until Monday, or to the first of the month. He'll just do it.

Of course, if anyone asks if he’s made any resolutions, he’ll just smile and say “Oh, you know, the usual,” or some other noncommittal answer. His coworkers don’t need to know he thinks it’s a stupid concept. He hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ranting about the uselessness of New Year’s resolutions. 

This year, though, this year might be different.

He arrives late to Jimin’s New Year’s Eve party. Everyone at Jimin's fancy high-rise apartment is past buzzed and barreling toward black-out drunk, and here he is, newly arrived and sober. 

Before he can go in search of alcohol, Jimin finds him. 

“You’re late! Why are you late? It’s New Year’s Eve!” 

Some urgent thing at work kept him there. It seemed life-changing and super important in the moment, but as Namjoon opens his mouth to answer, for the life of him, he can’t remember exactly what it was.

Jimin flaps his hand as if to wave the question out of the air before Namjoon can think of anything to say. 

“Whatever. The more important issue is, you’re not sparkling!” 

The theme for the party is “Sparkle or Bust,” in reference to both drinks and outfits. Namjoon doesn’t make a habit of keeping spare sequined shirts in his office, so he’s in one of his work suits, sans tie and jacket. 

Several hours’ worth of alcohol dulls Jimin’s outrage at Namjoon’s failure to follow the theme and he hands Namjoon a bedazzled NYE tiara and a glass of champagne without further berating.

“There. Much better.” 

Jimin leaves as suddenly as he arrived. 

Namjoon stays on the periphery of the party, sipping on the champagne. He recognizes people from work and some of Jimin’s friends he’s met in the past, but they’re all involved in their own conversations. 

His gaze wanders from person to person, wondering if any of them made resolutions, if they’ve ever kept them. If anything has ever changed—actually changed—by making a resolution for the new year. 

If it’s even worth it to hope for a change.

He keeps looking and his eyes catch on a familiar figure across the room. Jungkook, wearing a ridiculous, shiny blazer that he has no business looking so good in. Namjoon’s stomach does a little flip as he notices, not for the first time, how Jungkook’s shoulders fill out the blazer, broad and strong. He’s talking with Taehyung, Jimin’s roommate, a tall eccentric whose family owns half the city.

The crowd shifts, and Namjoon’s stomach flips again when he catches sight of you, looking increasingly irritated at the conversation between the two men. Now you’re rolling your eyes, annoyed at something they’ve said. 

Namjoon’s eyes follow you as you yank the sliding glass doors to the balcony open. Before he knows it, he’s making his way to the door, murmuring his apologies as he tries not to bulldoze his coworkers out of the way. 

Before Namjoon can reach the door, Jungkook is already there, round eyes apologetic and pleading as he slips out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Namjoon stops in the middle of the crowd. 

He’s too late. 

Again. 

He tips the contents of his champagne glass down his throat. It’s not enough to quiet the self-loathing, but enough to carry him to the glass door and peer out onto the balcony. 

You’re looking up at Jungkook, something like disappointment on your face. He has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the bare skin to warm you up in the cold. Your expression softens. You’re forgiving him for whatever transgression he has committed. 

An ugly roil of feelings churns in Namjoon’s gut, a mix of jealousy, envy, and longing he doesn’t want to untangle. 

Regret, though, is what he feels the most. There were so many moments when he could have done something, anything, when he could have made his feelings clear to either, both of you. 

Yoongi pushed him to do something, to say something. Of course he did, what else are best friends for? But even though Namjoon saw want clearly written in Jungkook’s eyes, time and time again, he hesitated. Every time they touched, whether in passing in the office, or when they were working out together, Namjoon was so careful, so careful to not let his hands linger, even though all he wanted to do was feel the planes of Jungkook’s body against his, strong and muscular. Because it was inappropriate, because of Namjoon’s position, because he was Jungkook’s mentor. 

And then you showed up, beautiful, confident. Every time you won a case, you lit up the room, radiant, victorious. And all Namjoon wanted to do was crowd you against the elevator walls as you headed back to the office together. He wanted to know if you were as soft and pliable out of your clothes as you were hard and unyielding in the courtroom. Yoongi had more to say every time you and Namjoon were in his restaurant. But again Namjoon hesitated. 

And he was too late. All he has left is regret and unrelenting visions of both of you, soft and hard, next to him, on top and below him, wanting nothing more than the all-encompassing press of warm skin against skin. 

A loud bang pulls him back to the party. One of the ladies from IT tripped into the glass door beside Namjoon. He reaches out to steady her, his hand on her elbow. She blushes when Namjoon smiles at her, and she laughs it off, embarrassed.

By the time he turns back to glance out to the balcony, Jungkook has you wrapped up in his blazer and you’re both facing out to the city. 

Someone claps him on the shoulder, and he looks back to see Taehyung. “You look like you need something stronger than champagne.” 

A karaoke machine appears sometime before midnight. 

Namjoon has officially joined the ranks of the well and truly sloshed. Taehyung took him to the large pantry behind the kitchen, where Jimin had stashed the good bottles of whisky behind boxes of cereal, and he has gone back several times for a refill.

He doesn’t let himself get this drunk, not usually. He’s so careful, always so fucking careful, about how he’s perceived, about what he’s expected to do, how he’s supposed to act, as an adult, as a manager, as the hotshot lawyer people think he is. But the whisky warms his stomach tonight and blurs the edges of the sharp feelings deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Whoever is screeching at the karaoke machine needs to stop. He feels it in the base of his skull and it’s making the night all the more unpleasant than it already is. He can tell them off, of course he can. He’s the head of Litigation. 

He stumbles his way into the living room to make the horrible noise stop, but the song ends before he can get across the room. Thank god. He’s about to turn back to the kitchen to top up his glass when an angelic voice comes through the speakers. 

It takes a few blinks to focus his eyes. He eventually sees across the room that Jungkook has taken the mic, with Taehyung’s arms slung around his shoulders. 

They’re swaying as Jungkook sings “Leave The Door Open” by Silk Sonic. The rumble of the party quiets down. Someone whoops when he nails a high note. 

Namjoon leans back against the wall for support. It’s not the first time he’s heard Jungkook singing. He hums constantly in the office, but it’s only when he’s several drinks in and past the point of self-consciousness that he lets loose and really sings. His eyes are closed, not needing the lyrics, as he belts the song. 

A little sigh sounds next to him and he turns to see you, also leaning against the wall. Your eyes are soft for the man across the room, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Namjoon looks back at Jungkook, and those feelings he was trying to dam with alcohol come rushing back. 

“You’re lucky, you know?” 

He doesn’t even realize he’s spoken out loud until he hears your voice beside him.

“Lucky?” 

Fuck. He has to say something. Clarify? Does he owe that to you?

“Look at him,” he says, gesturing across the room with his glass. “He’s hot and talented and good at his job. Competent people are hard to come by.” Shut up shut up shut up Namjoon, you’re rambling. “You’re competent too.” 

“Thanks?” 

The song ends and the room cheers for one more. Namjoon keeps his eyes trained across the room as Jungkook queues up another song. He can’t look at you right now. You’re too close.  

"Don't be a manager. It's overrated," he says quietly. "Careers don’t fucking matter. You have that freedom still, to do whatever.” 

The next song starts, “Falling” by Harry Styles. A shiver runs down Namjoon’s spine as Jungkook starts singing. 

“Jesus, just listen to his voice.” 

“Boss, are you okay?” you ask, putting your hand on Namjoon’s arm. 

He closes his eyes at the touch, and at that fucking nickname. He hates it. Hates his role at work, his chronic overthinking. He fucking despises himself for the person he’s crafted himself to be, hiding behind a job title, too focused on what society tells him is success to chase what he wants now. 

He looks at you, finally, to see confusion and concern written all over your face. 

“I’m happy for you two.” He can hear the sadness in his own voice and it’s fucking pathetic. He goes to take a sip of his drink, but it’s empty. Again. “I really am. Truly.” 

You just look at him like you’re about to say something nice and sweet and heartbreaking. Fuck. He’s gotta get out of here. 

In his drunk haze, he doesn’t realize that you don’t follow him to the kitchen. 

Karaoke ends with everyone scream-singing some pop-punk song that Namjoon vaguely recognizes. 

It’s getting close to midnight anyway, so the party roars back into swing, bass thumping, people dancing in the living room in a crush of bodies. 

Namjoon stands against the wall, the empty drink glass in his hand, watching everyone else lose their inhibitions. Even drunk as he is, the vice grip of anxiety keeps him from joining the crowd, from letting loose, and letting his body move to the music. 

He spots you and Jungkook in the crowd, your back against his, eyes closed as you dance to the beat, both faces flushed with alcohol. Namjoon waits, anticipating… something. What exactly, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this picture is incomplete. He sits on the outside, watching the two of you from afar.

Then it hits him. He’s used to it now, like breathing, like the sun rising and setting, your faces turning towards Namjoon like sunflowers face the sun. Always finding him in a room. How many times has he locked eyes from across the room with Jungkook, with you?

And now, you’re not looking at Namjoon. Neither of you are. 

As the countdown to midnight starts, Jungkook spins you around to face him. You laugh and join in counting with the crowd. 

3…

Namjoon holds his own countdown, waiting for either or both sets of eyes to find him on the edge of the crowd. 

2…

Jungkook’s arms wrap around you. 

1…

Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

Happy New Year!

You’re kissing and laughing, rejoicing in the new year. When Jungkook’s eyes open, they’re trained on your face, and you look back, eyes only for Jungkook. 

Something breaks inside Namjoon. He doesn’t even know who his envy is aimed towards. Does he want to be Jungkook, kissing you, or does he want to be in your place, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head? 

Things never change on New Year’s Eve, except this year, something has. 

He slips out of the party without anyone noticing. The sharp cold brings him back to his senses. Without the party in his head, he can breathe. He can think. 

His breath fogs up in the early morning air. Every inhale brings a cold clarity back to him. 

He knows what he has to do. 

A/N II: This scene was originally meant to take place in the middle of Chapter 5 from reader's POV. The more I worked on it, the more I struggled with it. The whole chapter was dragging and nothing I wrote was working, so I took it out. I think it improved the flow of Ch 5 and helped me finish Ch 5 a bit faster. It's still an important part of the story, and I think it worked better from Namjoon's POV. So before we head to the final couple chapters (!!!!) I really wanted to show how Namjoon's been feeling. (And my brain wouldn't let me work on Ch 6 until I finished this.)

I'm not gonna put a date on the next installment. It's still largely unwritten, but hopefully the momentum from finishing this helps with the draft for Ch 6. Thanks for your patience! Lots of forehead kisses for y'all 💕

[variety-fangirl]

I have a fic request if you’re taking them! You’re the fem dancer who performs the rain duet in the Magic Mike show in London and your lovely Moon boys go to watch your show as the supportive boyfriends they are. What happens when you get home?

Rain Dance / Moon Boys x fem!reader

Summary: You're a professional dancer helping Mike with his final surprise performance at The Rattigan, the money was just too good to refuse. Of course, you had prepared and pre-warned your boyfriends about the sensual and intimate nature of the dance being performed but they had been supportive of your role and wanted to come watch the final product of your hard work. After witnessing the dance you head home with your boyfriends, only to be in for a surprise of your own.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS SHOO. Descriptive sexual words and sentences, mentions of intimate, sexual, sensual, and consensual dance, jealousy and possessiveness, smut (unprotected p in v, soft!dom moon boys, spanking, choking, marking, female oral, praise kink) lmk if I missed anything.

Authors note: (SPOILERS! For the new Magic Mike Last Dance film). Absolutely 😍 oh I love this idea! I actually just finished watching Magic Mike Last Dance and loved it, so this idea is *mwah*. That scene was spicy and beautiful! 🥵😍 Thank you so much for requesting, it means a lot! 😁🥰 I hope that you like it and it turned out the way you wanted it to. Sorry it took so long, life and writers block have been kicking my ass fp 😅 Thank you for reading and enjoy! Liking, reblogging, and commenting really helps me out. Thank you.

Word count: 2.2k

Never in your life did you think you would be performing a dance of this nature, something so raw, sensual, and intimate. It was something you never thought would happen outside of a relationship, minus the fact of having clothes on, being so up close and personal in someone's personal space and they you. But there was a part of you that wanted to prove to yourself, that you could do something like this and walk out a new woman who genuinely did something that mattered. And that was by helping Mike, so that he could prove himself and Maxandra also. Did it feel a little weird that she and your boyfriends would be watching you and Mike basically dance fuck with your clothes on? Yes, yes it did. But when it came down to it, it was just a job to you both.

The lead-up to the final dance was chaotic and stressful, with so many ups and downs but you all got there in the end. Granted you had come in last minute with little time to prep but Mike had his vision sorted and ready to go, you just needed to learn the choreography. With all your years of dance, you had found it profoundly difficult, having never done something so obscene and sexual before in dance but honestly? You were so excited about it. It was a new wonderful challenge to say you had overcome. And seeing the final product of what you had all achieved was spectacular and you couldn't wait for others to witness the greatness Mike had created.

When it came to the day of the performance, you were pent up with energy and nerves about the outcome and how your boyfriends would react. You were sure they would be proud of you and your ability as a performer but the dance itself? You weren't so sure. You were just hoping they wouldn't take it to heart. That they could see past the sexual aspect and understand how beautiful and artistic it truly was. You would be thinking of your boyfriends the whole time anyway. Not anyone else, because they were the desire of your dreams and life itself.

When the time for your performance was steadily yet quickly approaching, it was a lot to take in, you were nervous beyond belief. But your main goal was to make your loved ones proud of you, so whilst backstage, you rehearsed and prepped your dance as much as possible. You wanted everything to be flawless and beautiful, so mesmerising to watch that you couldn't take your eyes away. As you were stretching to loosen up your body for dancing, Mike came over. "You ready?" he asked with a cheeky smile that helped calm your nerves ever so slightly, you nodded with a smile.

As you approached the stage to begin, you felt your heart leap out of your chest. It always did before each performance, no matter how many you had done over the years. You spring into action, dancing methodically and passionately, putting all your feelings into each movement. You worked with Mike, not against him, letting each other guide the flow. Your bodies moved so naturally, with so much grace and beauty that you felt the overwhelming emotions that poured out of you. It reflected in your movements, in everything you did in that moment, and it truly made all the difference for the impact. You imagined your beloved, amazing boyfriends the whole time, envisioning the amazing passionate nights you spent between the sheets together. All the love and desire you felt for them, the way they made your body feel.

You kept your eyes on Mike the entire time, not wanting to break focus for even a second, too afraid of ruining the intensity of the performance. Each thrusting, pushing, flowing movement felt so raw and powerful, and yet vulnerable all at the same time. Your emotions and movements were in sync, working as one as well as with each other, it was a team effort. You felt the music flow through you as you transferred to the water part of your dance, the most sexual part. The dance was a mix between ballet, erotica, and freestyle dance. You could feel the audience holding their breaths as they watched you and Mike grind, touch, dance, and push at each other.

Each sultry touch of your bodies, each sensual movement, each intimate body part that ground against one another, enticed and pulled the raw emotions you wanted the crowd to feel. As if they were the lookers observing and assessing the voyeuristic lovemaking of a couple for all to see. It was perfect, every part and every moment, was something to marvel at and savour. You felt beautiful as you moved, hips and head tuned in with your sexual desires, you were lost in the passion.

When you came to, it took you a moment to realise it was over, that you were standing and walking from the stage. As soon as you were away from looking eyes, you finally felt like you could breathe again. As if breathing would have disrupt the dance and distract the audience from it. "Holy fuck! That was awesome, you did amazing!" Mike complimented with a large smile as you both walked into the dressing room. You smiled wide, "It was, wasn't it? You did so amazingly!" you felt unlike anything you ever had, it was hard to explain. You felt... beyond. You both laughed happily as you separated to dry off and get changed for the end of the show.

When you re-emerged, you looked for your boyfriends, not immediately seeing them. In your search, you noticed Mike and Maxandra had finally made up and were kissing. It made you smile, you were happy it had worked, that she seemed proud. And thankfully, not at all angry or unhappy. You noticed a dark figure to the side of Mike and smiled, immediately running towards them. "Hi," You whispered in his ear as you wrapped your arms tightly around your boyfriends. "Babe, you were amazing up there, was hard not to get jealous," Marc spoke huskily into your ear, placing a gentle kiss below your ear. You moan softly, "I was thinking of you three the whole time anyway, honey." you leant up and bit Marc's earlobe gently, earning you a delicious groan. His hand smacks your ass, leading you toward the exit. You smile, already knowing what was about to happen.

It didn't take you both long to get home, the drive was short and filled with many compliments that Marc relayed from your other two favourite men. You were blushing furiously and your panties were utterly drenched by the time you walked through the door. The anticipation was killing you, and the need for your boyfriends was insatiable. The second the door closed and the lock clicked, you were roughly pushed against it, a gasp managing to escape before Marc's lips were on yours. You both moan as your tongues explore one another's mouths, fighting for dominance.

You make quick work of removing each other's clothing, breathless gasps mingling between your only just separated lips, never too far from each other. Once naked, Marc picked you up one-handed and pressed you against the hard wooden door, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist to secure yourself. Tongues battled for dominance as Marc's hands grabbed at your ass, needing the soft plush skin in his hands. His hips ground into yours, cock rubbing perfectly through your dripping slit, allowing him to move so much easier. "Fuck baby, you are so wet already and I haven't even touched you yet." you moaned at his words, both listening to the obscene sounds of your wetness filling the quiet room.

"You're such a good girl for us love, you were amazing up there." you smiled, wondering whether you would see your other boyfriends tonight. "Steven" you breathlessly say as his mouth travels down to your neck. Your body was on fire, so pent up and got with the need built up in your body, you felt you could burst at any second. Especially with the way their cock was grinding oh so perfectly against your clit every time he thrust forward. You felt your back being removed from the stability of the door and landed on the soft duvet of your bed. You gasp at the soft impact, looking up at Steven whilst biting your lip, waiting for whatever they were willing to give you. "I'm going to show you just how jealous we were tonight my love," Steven announces with a seriousness you hadn't expected to come from him, it made you a little nervous but you trusted all three of them with your life.

"Have at it, sir," you smirk, knowing that name got Steven fired up. For Marc it was just his name, he didn't have a kink name that he liked to be called. Although, you did experimentally call him 'daddy' once and that really got him riled up. Jake liked to be called Pappi, naturally. It made it more fun in the bedroom, for each of them to have individual sexual preferences. Steven growled and latched his lips onto yours, kissing you as if it would be your last ever kiss. It made you completely breathless when he pulled away, and more so when you saw the look in his eyes. Pure lust and adoration, like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon. You watched as Steven moved lower, moving to your breasts, placing his mouth around your nipple as he played with the other in his hand.

You moan and writhe against the soft cotton duvet, gasps intermingling between as his lips continued to travel lower, down to where you needed them most. His hands glide across your skin as they follow his mouth, savouring every inch as if you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. The second Steven's tongue licked your clit, you were a goner, completely consumed with pleasure. "Oh, fuck, Steven." you gasp, head thrown back and eyes rolling. Your body takes a mind of its own, your hips thrusting gently into Steven's face, trying to desperately chase your high. Needing that sweet release more than air itself.

You could feel your high quickly approaching from Steven's tongue alone. He was that good. He knew exactly how to please you and what to do, all from your body alone. As soon as Steven added two fingers into you, you were done, coming hard. You cried out as your head threw back once again, eyes rolling back into your head as Steven rode you through the pleasure of your high. He kept going even after you had finished and had been licked clean, overstimulating you to sensitivity. You giggle with a gasp as your body spasmed, gently pushing his head away. You look behind you to see the mirror pointed to face the bed, knowing Marc and Jake are watching you intently, probably with large smirks on their faces as they spoke to Steven.

You smirk, biting your lip, "Enjoy the show boys?" you question breathlessly, a teasing tone to your voice as you turn back to look at Steven. "We absolutely did princesa." Jake groaned as you pulled him down to press your lips to his, your hand tracing slowly down his body until you landed on his cock. You stroked his cock slowly, wanting to please them the way that Steven had pleased you. Jake groaned loudly, mouth open against yours, both breathing deeply. "Fuck, baby." Jake moaned before kissing you passionately.

Jake pushes your hand away gently and lines himself with your entrance. He slowly drags the head of his cock back and forth your slit, spreading your wetness around. Jake made sure to bump your clit every time he dragged his cock up, enjoying watching you gasp and twitch from sensitivity. After teasing you for a bit, Jake got fed up and gently entered you without warning. He kept slowly entering you until he was flush inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and the familiar stretch.

"Jesús bebé, te sientes tan bien" Jake groaned as he started moving, quickly building a steady pace that had you moaning in seconds. As Jake thrust into you, his hand wrapped around your neck, applying just enough pressure. "You're mine," Jake paused, looked to the mirror and rolled his eyes, "ours." He corrected with a grunt. "Yours." You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist, wanting them as close as possible.

You felt Jake stiffen and hear Marc's voice take over, making you smile. "Fuck baby, you feel too good." Marc's lips attached to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin, no doubt leaving marks in his path. There was an odd sense of joy you got out of your boys feeling jealous and slightly possessive, it made for the sex to be all the more amazing. Suddenly Marc pulls out of you, flips you over and directs you to go on all fours, facing the mirror perfectly. You both moan loudly as he re-enters you without issue, fucking you slowly to begin.

Marc without wanting begins to fuck you, hard, into the mattress. You gasp while moaning, mouth open wide as he enters you nice and deep, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had that familiar knot tightening in moments. Marc's palm collides with your ass, one on each side, "that's our girl." he groans. The bed rocks with the force of his thrusts, mixed with the obscene and wet noises you were both making. You feel yourself getting close, "That's it, come for me, baby. Give them a show." Marc whispers against your ear before giving you the fucking of your life.

You scream in ecstasy as your high hits you like a train, the pleasure so intense that your arms gave out and you flopped onto the bed. Marc came seconds later, stilling as he released his seed inside of you. He collapsed next to you, both breathing heavily and feeling like jello. You turn to face Marc with a sleepy smile on your face, your hand gently pushing his loose damp curls off his forehead. "I should make you guys jealous more often if I get fucked like that." you joked with a giggle, leaning in to kiss him. Suddenly you were on your back again and your boyfriends hard dick poked into your stomach, "good thing then because we aren't done with you yet." Steven's voice alerted, making you squeal.

[invisobang]

Thinking about dropping out bc of writers block, do you guys have any advice ?

This post got a bit long, so there's some general advice under the cut, which may be more what you're looking for; but it would be remiss of me not to mention the Invisobang advice first!

If you haven't already, you could reach out to one of our wonderful betas. Several of them have offered their services as someone to bounce ideas off of. You can find a full list of our betas and their skills pinned in the beta-bids channel.

You can also seek help from fellow writers in our brainstorm channel.

If you're unsure whether or not you can complete the event, it's always good to take a second and look at your progress so far, as well as your usual writing habits.

Have you been meeting check-in goals? Does writer's block often slow down your writing? Are you able to get lots of writing done in small bursts to recover if you fall behind?

While I don't want to encourage you to drop out, the nature of this event makes it important that you remain confident in your ability to complete it.

And now onto the general advice!

You could try outlining. A few lines of dialogue, some basic description. Some progress is better than no progress, and sometimes having a vague idea of where you want the story to go can help you figure things out.

Maybe you've written yourself into a corner. Go back a few paragraphs, a few hundred words. If the fic is short enough, maybe even go back to the start and read through what you have. You might find something you want to change or get a new idea.

If you're having trouble with a specific scene, just skip the part you can't figure out! You can always go back and fill it out later. Even if you're skipping to a point much further into the fic, it's always easier to get to the end when you actually know what the ending is.

And the one everyone always says, take a break! Sitting and stewing about your fic can make things worse. Take a walk, read a book, watch something you like. You might get some inspiration after having your mind of the story for a couple days.

I hope something here proves helpful for you. If you have any more questions, Bib and I (kinglazrus) are always available on Discord, or you can send another ask here.

[flowerandblood]

I hope you feel better soon. Your work is amazing. I hope you don’t let the people who’s goal is actually to make you stop lead you to the point of stopping. They don’t deserve the satisfaction of achieving their goal. I will bet you 100 bucks they are also writers on this app who are threatened by your effortless good writing and that’s their way of bringing you out of the equation so theirs can shine.

Okay guys listen to me. LISTEN. I think this anon can have a point.

I talked about it a lot with @ewanmitchellcrumbs, and yesterday with @barbieaemond and seeing @valeskafics getting hate anons now I have to say that certain things repeat themselves.

I don't think it's dozens of people sending hate to the writers and creators in this fandom, but one or two desperate people who I suspect are unhappy creators.

One of them often writes in lowercase letters, another one simply sends rude questions and short sentences. When you enter into a discussion with them, they write for pages, as if they were delighted that someone was paying attention to them.

These are the anons I got that I haven't deleted yet:

Me and Liv closed the anons and disappeared, so they moved on to Ange and Bel. I get the impression that they simply don't like us, thinking that they know better what's good for the fandom. 😵

They have a similar method of operation - they read about what could hurt us, read about what is important to us - our husbands, boyfriends, animals, unpleasant experiences and use them against us.

I don't know what others think about this, but I think we should make some collective decision to kill them with silence, to delete their anons and block them without publishing them, without giving them a reason to be satisfied and a moment of excitement that they got a response, that they hurt us, that they hit a sensitive spot.

We need to fucking destroy them tactically, my dearest.

[pallastrology]

jupiter vs. saturn: virgo

jupiter

they are more maternal. virgo is a sign that, while not known for being affectionate, has a lot of love to give. with jupiter's warm, expansive nature in virgo, the native is quite motherly. they're the type to show their love through things like making sure their loved ones are eating well, checking they got home safely, nudging them to go and book that doctor's appointment or catch up on their schoolwork. they may not say 'i love you' much, but they show it often.

they are more suited to leadership roles. this maternal quality that jupiter in virgo has makes them well-suited to management roles in life. at home, they manage their household and family, and in work, they manage accounts, appointments, or their team. they can find it very difficult to switch off because they're constantly trying to fix situations and people. it's part of the virgo curse, getting so wrapped up in trying to fix that they can forget to just be.

they are more suited to teaching. when i think of jupiter in virgo, i think of my secondary school english teacher. she was a lovely lady; she didn't miss a beat and was a harsh critic, but never cruel or callous, and had a way of tailoring assignments to each pupil so as to help them find their voice. jupiter in virgo is quite a natural teacher, with a surprisingly good sense of humour and a sharp eye.

saturn

they are more reserved. virgo is never a party animal, but while jupiter is a little better with people, saturn in virgo thrives alone. they need peace and quiet to focus and to get in touch with themselves, which, in turn, allows them to do their best work. the native is often quite sensitive, prone to anxieties and stress-induced health issues, and it's important that they learn to manage their stress levels and engage with a meaningful self-care routine.

they are more patient. saturn in virgo is a placement of dedication and devotion, and as well as their impressive work ethic and attention to detail, they possess an almost immeasurable patience. the native, when they are calm enough to understand where they want to go, is able to effectively plan and then chip away at their goals, analysing and adapting their methods as they go.

they are more distracted by work. one of the biggest difficulties saturn in virgo faces is balancing their tendency towards burying themselves in work. they can sometimes be defined, or even define themselves, by their work, and it can become something of a comfort blanket for the native. this doesn't seem like that much of a problem, but sometimes they don't know who they are outside of work.

both

they are both cautious. virgo is known for being risk-averse and thoughtful. in jupiter, this isn't quite as pervasive, and we tend to see that 'mother hen' quality where they worry and peck at others, compared to how they go through their own life. conversely, saturn in virgo sometimes looks calmer and more distant on the surface, but the decisions and directions that they take are carefully chosen after intense, sometimes agonising analysis.

they are diligent. the anxiety of virgo makes our natives hardworking and dedicated individuals. they care deeply about the 'little things' in life, which aren't really so little. in fact, virgo is one of the signs that truly understand the meaning and empowerment that can be found in the mundane; in jupiter, the little details of life are expanded upon, respected, shared and taught. in saturn, the mundane is built upon, with the native finding strength and drive to achieve great things through it.

they are both grounded. earth signs in general are known for their feet being planted firmly on the ground, but with jupiter and saturn in virgo, the natives are guided by the elements. when i think of jupiter, i think of a language teacher, breaking the language down into its building blocks and demonstrating how to create poetry out of letters and sounds. when i think of saturn, i think of a writer, taking the unformed feelings and experiences of a person and shaping them, transforming them into an almost-universally understood concept through a novel.

they are skilled. carrying my last point through here, virgo placements are posited towards learning and building. they work best with the tangible, things they can see and hear and touch; but as a mutable sign, virgo is a little better equipped to take ephemeral concepts and form them into something material. they both tend toward construction in that sense, with jupiter needing to understand in order to share and teach, and saturn needing to understand so they can make something of themselves and from the intangible. our natives are very much guided by the concept of 'a labour of love'.

[onewomancitadel]

A smattering of general updates:

I played Tears of the Kingdom. I didn't really enjoy it. I understand why it was popular though; I'm just not the demographic for these types of video games anymore. I didn't find it creatively rewarding and after a time I sat there thinking 'I would rather be writing right now', and since then I have learnt that writing is made easier by doing things which are not writing, because it makes me miss it. My dad also doesn't really like it but for some reason has played hundreds of hours in it. I don't know either - I think he will take anything called Zelda at this point.

I spectated the Doctor Who David Tennant Special and watched some clips of the new season. I'm not a fan of RTD, and not a DW fan anymore (not for a long time), but it was an interesting study in how studios try to attract old and new fans.

I read a lot of books, and that lie people tell you about all books being good for you is a lie, because a cyberpunk anthology of short stories made me so angry I got heartburn. I think people who say that are saying so because they wish that they could read a lot, in which case I say, yes I think reading is a gift and we should engage with it, however, sometimes I get so physically angry from something stupid/bad I've read because bad writers exist that it gives me actual pain. I am reading Howl's Moving Castle right now and it's very joyful; I am very surprised by the liberties the animated film took! However so far I do think both experiences are worthwhile, and if you enjoyed the Ghibli film, I very much recommend checking out the original book if you want to revisit that world again. The prose is straightforward but a little whimsical, and Howl is very, very funny. I have laughed aloud a few times.

Well, you know I rewatched Dark, and it's funny that during my exile I said 'this is like if RWBY got the ending it deserves' and then, er, I found out it's not renewed yet, and that's still up in the air, which for the entirety of RWBY I have only had one true moment of doubt of such a thing, and that was a while ago.

On that topic, yes, I still ship Jaune/Cinder, believe Cinder's redemption is likely, etc., although there are some more external concerns I would wager now than before. Before I thought it very possible to do without any commercial influence, and it depends what compromises they do or don't end up making or having already made. My analysis of Jaune's arc in V9 may not hold water as much (e.g. if you lean towards the view there were rewrites to cater to growing the audience, or perhaps it's two ideas married? I'm not sure) so I'm going to think about it more, and there always has been a tension in RWBY between what is being expected/baited and what is foreshadowed/said/actually happens.

I figured out how to write again and what was blocking me, so there's that. To talk about it a bit more, since my break I have worked every single day on writing. My key takeaways are that you need a delicate balance of delusion and self-doubt to get anything done - you don't know you can do something until you actually do it - and every excuse I invented for not writing was not the reason I was not writing. I can write with a migraine beginning to set in on an uncomfortable desk where I can't even rest my elbows properly on the end of a bed with no back support without aircon in the middle of summer before I've even taken my hair out from bedtime plaits in my pyjamas. I didn't even expect to get my fic done right before midnight, actually I was like 'well lol that's not going to happen, I'll write anyway though, fuck New Year's' because I wasn't doing anything, and then I finished and looked at the time and was like ooooh. I actually completed my goal! So I'm very proud of that. Anyway writing is breathing, to me, I go crazy if I don't do it, no matter what it is, and every single piece of nonsense advice of productivity was not helpful, ever, but I did figure it out. Also admittedly I got a fire burning under me again because I found out I was actually right about Raven, in which case I took that as a sign from heaven I was on the right track. One should hope.

I am excited about Dune Part Two, yes, although I am trying to avoid Villeneuve talking about the film because I know all the marketing is basically directed at people who aren't Dune fans, and I have to see it for myself to see what it's worth. I enjoyed the first film, and Villeneuve seems excited to direct Dune Messiah, in which case I am willing to do whatever possible to make that happen. Because that's about as complete a story you're going to get in a major motion picture adaptation and it would be So Fucking Good.

[thisapplepielife]

NaNoWriMo 2023 - Week #1

So far so good! I'm 27.86% finished, and I've hit my 1,667 word goal each day. Though, some of those have been much harder to do that for than others, that's for damn sure. Today was fine, yesterday was great, but Saturday and Sunday were both slogs. (I think I was just in Wildflowers mode and couldn't switch directions easily.)

But it's coming along and I hope this month helps me get this Steddie fic into something that I think is worth sharing.

And for a little (unedited) Steddie snippet:

It's sprinkling when they leave the bar, but it's a warm rain, so it's not all that uncomfortable. "You just want to walk back?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. Walking is fine with him, it's not that far back to the house, and a little rain won't kill them. So, they walk a few blocks, talking, laughing, just a little bit tipsy, until the sky suddenly opens. They start running, giggling the whole way, and as soon as he sees the opportunity, Steve pulls Eddie into an alleyway. He crowds him under an awning, trying to help get him out of the pouring rain. Eddie laughs, tossing his wet hair back, and Steve thinks he's beautiful. So, he reaches forward and tucks a strand of Eddie's wet hair behind his ear. Brushing his thumb against Eddie's cheek, and it makes Eddie smile at him, shyly. It's endearing, and fucking sweet, and Steve wants more.  So much more.

That's all I've got, since I'm not quite ready to give away any of the actual plot. Secretive writers be secretive. We don't know any other way. 🤣

Now, I'll see what the next week brings, but as of right now, I'm on track! ❤️