#I may have stayed up for 8 hours writing and doing some editing now

[izurathespookyskeleton]

A lil fic series coming up gang👀👀👀

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (4)

(3)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: Happy pride month, guys! I feel like I committed a hate crime with this chapter, so I'm sorry. It's also longer than previous chapters by 2k. And um, the "hate crime" part (not literal hate crime, just some angst) is rushed because I really didn't enjoy writing it :/

Black haired girl is Yoon Jiwoo from My Name, and she is a badass, if you want to see some female violence go watch some edits of her.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

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Caitlyn was again looking like a zombie, sipping her bitter coffee slowly. You were sitting in the coffee shop on the campus, and Caitlyn looked at you like a grumpy cat. Or a very pissed off cat. 

Caitlyn wasn't happy you distracted her (saved from exhaustion) from her studies (staring at her paper for an hour). But you didn't care as long as she sat with you and decompressed with her disgusting bitter 3-shots-of-espresso coffee. 

"You look like shit." You told Caitlyn and she glared at you. "You need to spend your weekend just sleeping for 30 hours. You can't do this to yourself."

"I'm fine." Caitlyn scoffed, but accepted the doughnut you slipped to her. "Thanks."

"I swear I will stay at your place for the weekend."

"I don't think you can be separated from Abby for so long, (y/n). Quite frankly, it makes me worried." 

Oh god, Cait had her detective face on, like she was solving a puzzle right now, and it made you nervous. 

"Why?"

"Well." Cait sipped her coffee. "You have the gay yearning in your eyes. Are you, perhaps, falling in love with her?"

"No." You cut sternly, surprising yourself. You didn't expect yourself to have such a strong reaction. "I'm not falling for a straight girl."

"Maybe falling was a strong word. You're crushing on her." The word crushing sounded so alien from Cait.

"It's manageable." You shrugged, not wanting to discuss your own weakness, but not wanting to lie to Caitlyn either. "I know I don't have a chance."

"This is quite upsetting." Caitlyn said and squeezed your hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't, I promise. I'm not stupid." You winked and drank your coffee. "Do you want to come to her fight on Friday?"

"I have to finish that paper." Caitlyn groaned. She noticed how you narrowed your eyes on her. "I swear, I won't study during the weekend. But if I push myself I can finish it."

"I'll be at your door at 12pm on Saturday. We will go outside, have a walk in the park, go to the bookshop or whatever nerdy place you want to visit. We both can use some downtime."

Caitlyn sighed but didn't protest.

"I'll text you when I go to sleep. Count 8 hours and then show up."

You nodded, proud of Caitlyn compromising on this topic. She didn't like "wasting time" but if you said it was for your benefit too she usually agreed. You trapped her in taking care of herself by thinking she was taking care of you, and it worked well. 

"Ask Ellie to come with you to Abby's fight. I'm sure she is going to be there anyway."

"You're right." You smiled and took your phone out. You still had Ellie's number from months ago. "Have you talked to her?"

"Yes. We study together from time to time, and sometimes I invite her to play chess." 

"Good. I'm happy you found your nerdmate." You smiled at Caitlyn and she smiled back. "Or is there something else?"

"No, we're friends. Not the kind you are with Abby." Cait looked pointedly at you. "I may be speculating, but I have a feeling she is not as straight as she thinks she is."

"Well, what do you want me to do? 'Hey, Abby, I know you're so deep in the closet you met fucking Aslan but how about you change your entire worldview because I have a crush on you that I totally can get over?'" You scrunched your nose, irritated at nothing in particular. 

"Obviously not that." Caitlyn frowned like she usually did when she was stategising, as if she could find a way to get you and Abby together because she was just that smart. "Well, I think you should start dating again."

You shrugged and looked down at your phone. 

to: Ellie Williams

Hi, it's (y/n)

Are you going to Abby's fight on Friday?

from: Ellie Williams

Hi

Yeah

Wanna go together?

to: Ellie Williams

Yes

from: Ellie Williams

cool 

I'll meet you there

"I'm not going to use other people in order to get over Abby. I'm not fighting fire with fire." You said, continuing your conversation with Cait. 

"You could use a distraction." Caitlyn shrugged in return. 

"I'll just find someone to tutor." 

"And I'm a workaholic with bad habits?" Cait muttered under her breath and bit down on her second doughnut. 

Thursday nights were usually booked for the time to unwind for both of you: you'd come home late, tired and hungry after classes and lessons on campus, Abby would be already home, studying in the living room for her usual seminar on Friday, also tired. 

Abby heard the keys as you opened the door and in a few minutes you appeared in the living room.

"Hi." Abby's chest tightened at your small, quiet voice and she looked at you. 

"Hey." She said gently and panicked, not really understanding why. "You look like shit." Nice save, Anderson.

"I feel like shit." You shrugged and went to your room to take your change of clothes. 

Abby took a deep breath, trying to get her panic under control - what was that? What, she wasn't allowed to be gentle with her friends anymore? What the fuck her brain was playing at? That was concerning. For some reason she kept creating excuses why it was okay to touch you, and that wasn't even the weird, selfish part. The weird part was - why did she even need to create excuses? She was touchy with her friends, and you were touchy too, it wasn't any different from her friendship with Ellie.

But somehow it was, and Abby was confused. She tried to act chill and normal around you, sometimes getting a little more sarcastic than usual. It didn't seem to bother you, but Abby got embarrassed every time she'd suddenly treat you a little rougher because she'd get this weird panic. Honestly, it was pissing her off - you were nice to her, gentle even, and she was acting like a school boy, tugging on your pigtails. 

Just like now. You didn't look like shit, you looked lovely despite being tired, and Abby had a fucking knee jerk reaction to god knows what. 

You came back from the shower, smelling like you, and you sat next to Abby, putting your head on her shoulder. Abby stopped typing, her heart doing a micro somersault: you were so close so suddenly it scared her. Or whatever she kept telling herself, really. 

"I wanna die."

"You're just hungry." Abby murmured and pretended to be concentrating on her studies. "There's leftovers from yesterday or I can order something for you."

You made a tired sound and Abby chuckled. 

"What do you want? Thai? Indian?" 

"Nah, don't waste money, I'll cook something."

"I'm not 'wasting money'. You're tired as fuck." I want to take care of you, she wanted to say, but she was being weird again, so she didn't. "Just pick."

"Let's do rock paper scissors."

Abby won and ordered your usual while you went through the endless list of tv shows for both of you to watch. Now, when you weren't that close, Abby got back to studying - her weird panic could wait until she was done. In Abby's mind her gpa was way harder to fix than whatever emotional things she had going on. 

"Cait really likes Ellie." You said offhandedly, and Abby perked up. "In a friendly way."

"Really?" 

Abby was surprised for two reasons: Ellie had a temper and was only likeable when she was interested in someone sexually, and Cait was so out of her league it was ridiculous. 

"Yeah. They play chess and study together. Cait doesn't study with people, so I guess Ellie is special in that way."

"Wow." Abby chuckled. "I mean, Ellie is extremely smart. Is it your type?" Abby teased, continuing the bit about you crushing on Ellie. However something in her grew anxious at the thought of learning what your type was.

"It's more about her arms, you know." You laughed, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. 

Something felt hot in Abby’s chest as she looked down at her own arms. She looked back at you and flexed her bicep to see your reaction, and it was worth it: you looked dazed for a second before quickly looking away, flustered. Abby laughed at you and you hit her on her arm, embarrassed. 

“Fuck you.” You laughed too, and Abby felt too good in this moment, just laughing and teasing you; she never wanted it to end. "What is your type?"

Abby blinked. Her type? She never gave it a thought before: relationships weren’t something she was too invested in, it never seemed to be worth the effort. She never experienced this head over heels love everyone was talking about, so she never cared to run after boys.

"I don't really have a type." Abby said, thinking back to her not-so-long list of exes. "You know, with men if he is not an asshole it's already a win."

You laughed and Abby smiled, her confusion about not having a type going away.

"Great, we're definitely going to have a perfect love life with these standards." You chuckled and laid back on the sofa, letting Abby get back to her study. 

Abby's favourite part of Thursdays was happening around 10pm, when you'd finish washing the dishes - today it was putting everything in the bin - and Abby'd get her excessive amount of pillows and blankets so you two could cuddle and watch the next episode of the ridiculous show you both were too invested in. 

"Come on, come here." Abby said a little impatiently while you were putting some pillows away. 

"I'm not the one who made a fucking fort out of pillows." You grumped but soon enough you put your head on Abby's shoulder, your hands tucked in front of your chest. Abby always expected you to hug her around her middle, but you never did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. 

Sometimes, very rarely, when you'd get too tired, you'd fall asleep on Abby's chest, and Abby never had the heart to wake you up. You already showered, everything was clean and you didn't have any tasks to do, so why would she wake you up? Just so you could walk to your bedroom, your sleep interrupted? No. 

Abby looked down where your head was, curious if you were asleep after the episode ended, but you looked up just as she lowered her head, and fuck you were too close. So close Abby's heart fucking malfunctioned and started beating five times faster. She could feel your breath on her face and something was demolishing under her ribcage - it happened in a matter of seconds and you moved away, creating the distance between you, but Abby was so scared in that moment she didn't breathe. 

"Do you need to study?" You asked as you moved away and sat next to her. Abby tried not to feel disappointed at losing your warmth. 

"I'm done, actually. I feel kinda confident about tomorrow, you know?"

Abby stood up and started tidying up the living room, putting everything in its place.

"You're smart, Abby. You'd nail that seminar, I promise." 

"Thanks, (y/n). You're coming tomorrow to my fight, right?"

"Yeah. I even cleared my schedule for it." You said, pleased with yourself and Abby smiled. "But I'll kill you if you get hurt, you hear me? No missing punches."

Abby laughed and came closer to you, refusing to feel weird about being affectionate with you. It was fine. 

"I will be careful, I promise." Abby murmured as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Don't want to get in trouble with a woman who feeds me."

"Damn right." You said sternly. "Good night, Abby."

"Night, (y/n)."

You only had a vague idea about MMA fights: you were never really interested in sports, let alone violent sports, but well, Abby invited you so you decided to give it a shot. You weren't sure you'd like it (seeing Abby being punched? No thank you), but Abby wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't important to her, right?

Or were you fantasising again? Making a big deal out of nothing? Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep yourself in check with these things. Abby was sweet, and you were weak for sweet girls. 

You tried not to get delusional when your suspicion got too strong - was it intuition or wishful thinking? Were you seeing things that weren't there or were you ignoring what was? You didn't know, and yeah, it was manageable, but also - it drove you crazy. You couldn’t live like this, questioning Abby’s every move and every word.

Maybe you should have talked to her about the possibility of her not being straight, but her best friend was a lesbian, surely Abby had a moment to reflect on her own sexuality like some straight girls did when they found out their friend was gay. Abby was smart, she’d have figured it out already. 

God you thought you weren’t that stupid, but you were failing not to fall for Abby for a month and a half already. Hubris is a bitch, huh.

Ellie met you outside the place where the fight would take place fifteen minutes before the start. She looked good, as attractive as always - yes, (y/n), you needed to look at women you actually had a chance with, good job, keep it up - and the look she gave you suggested she thought the same about you. She even took your hand in hers as she led you to your seats, and you didn’t protest - somehow Ellie being touchy felt natural, and her cool hand felt nice on your skin. You sat together and you looked around.

“There’s supposed to be medics around, right?” 

“Yeah, but Abby doesn’t get super injured, she’ll be fine.”

“Have you seen her face? I almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw her.” 

“That’s her usual day at practice.” Ellie shrugged, her thigh warm against yours as she moved closer to hear you better. “Don’t worry, she can take a lot more than that. She is tough and intimidating, and she actually knows how to duck. But if you tell her I said it - your ass is grass.”

You laughed at Ellie's words and she smiled back. She explained to you how the fight was going to happen, and you felt a little hopeful - how much damage can happen in a five minute round? Not a lot, right? Right?

There were other fights too, and you had time to adjust to the overall violence of it all. You didn't know the girls who were fighting, but even then when a stranger got hit you couldn't help but flinch. Ellie noticed how stressed you were getting, so she took your hand in hers to ground you. The touch was definitely easy between the two of you, and it was comforting, so you squeezed her hand back. 

"I don't know if I'd survive this." You laughed and Ellie squeezed your hand back. 

"Look, they're all fine. No blood, no bruises." 

"The standards are too low, Ellie. You're in sports too, right?"

"If you call skateboarding a sport then yeah. I'm a hell of an athlete." Ellie snorted. 

"You should've taken Abby with you." 

"Babe, she has been in martial arts since she was four. I'm pretty sure she'd have kicked my ass if I asked her to leave MMA."

You laughed at this, a little bit confused: Ellie was behaving like Ellie you knew, not Ellie that was studying with Cait three times a week. The difference was intriguing. 

Finally Abby's name was announced and you got tense, bracing yourself. But when she walked to the cage, you forgot how to breathe for a totally different reason: she was so intimidating and confident, her defined shoulders rolled back in a threat, and you just couldn't help yourself. She was hot. She was so hot you pressed your thighs together as your eyes roamed over her trained body that screamed power and dominance, her top and shorts letting you see her abs and thighs that could crush your head if Abby wanted to. Fuck. 

Mark you as scared and horny. 

Her opponent was similar to her in size, and you watched with wide eyes as they approached each other after the bell rang. Abby was light on her feet, not too fast as previous fighters, but she timed her punches well, immediately cornering her opponent. But the girl was quick to recover as she landed some punches on Abby's side with her legs and you gasped, terrified.

"Abby's okay." Ellie said to you and you finally exhaled, not looking away from the cage. 

It was the most stressful eighteen minutes of your life, and the relief you felt when Abby was getting the upper hand and she was punching instead of getting punched, was immeasurable. Abby didn't really let her opponent corner her, her face had that calculated expression as if she knew every way this fight could go. That was comforting, but not as comforting as hearing the last bell and seeing Abby's black glove raised in the air to show her win. 

"That was so intense." You admitted as you relaxed in your seat and Ellie laughed, her hands stroking your thigh. 

"Believe me, it wasn't. You need to watch Abby's previous fights, there's some intense shit."

"No thank you." You said. "Do we wait for her or? What the fuck we are supposed to do, actually?"

"She told me to meet her at the party, so we can head out. Are you going to the party?"

"I dunno." You admitted sheepishly. "I have plans tomorrow."

"Come on, it will be fun. You can leave early and still get your beauty sleep. I can even set an alarm for you, Cinderella."

"Okay-okay. I'll leave at midnight." 

Abby arrived at the party a little later than she planned, but at least everyone was already having fun and not yet wasted. She quickly grabbed a beer and went through people to find Ellie and then find you - in Abby's head you were supposed to be with her. Ellie, however, was talking to her other friends - that was how Abby referred to anyone Ellie befriended in university - she was laughing and you were nowhere in sight. 

Ellie noticed her and went for a hug, patting her back.

"(Y/n) said your fight was 'so intense'." Ellie laughed and Abby laughed too, because they both knew Abby had way worse fights. "Congrats on not having your ribs broken."

"You're so sweet." Abby said mockingly. "What did I do to have such a supportive, caring best friend?"

"Nothing you should be proud of." 

"Have you seen (y/n)? I kinda thought she'd be with you."

"Yeah, she was talking to some girl." Oh. "Close to the bar." 

Something not really pleasant filled Abby's chest after Ellie's words, something like disappointment. She expected to see you there, but you were somewhere else, talking to someone else. 

Abby took a sip of her beer and went in the direction Ellie told her to find you. And yes, there you were, talking to a black haired girl Abby didn't know. It looked like the conversation was friendly, and the other girl didn't stand too close to you, which brought Abby relief - what the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she so uncomfortable with seeing you with someone else? What the fuck?

She walked through people to get closer to you, and when you turned your head you saw her and smiled. Abby smiled back and watched you touch the other girl's forearm, saying your goodbyes. The girl smiled at you and motioned at her phone as you nodded before she started to walk away. When Abby came to you, the girl wasn't there anymore and your smile was only directed at Abby, and it calmed her down, the normalcy of your life getting back. 

"Congratulations!" You hugged Abby tightly and she hugged back, stroking your back on instinct. 

"Did you like it?" Abby already knew the answer, but she really wanted to tease you. 

"Liked seeing people getting punched? No."

"But what about all those arms, hm?" 

"I swear to god, Abby." You elbowed her and Abby laughed. 

"Was it your friend?" Abby asked cautiously, trying to pass her curiosity as something casual. 

"Hm?"

"The girl you were talking to. I didn't want to interrupt, sorry." Was she really sorry? Maybe. 

"Oh, don't worry." You said, not answering Abby's question, and it made her feel not good. "Are you feeling okay though?"

"You're such a mother hen." Abby rolled her eyes. "My side is bruised, and she got my lip, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Great."

Abby spent the next hour glued to your side, talking to you: it was fun to be with you outside your shared apartment. Yeah, you spent time together on weekends, but being around a lot of people Abby knew and showing who she was friends with (yup, people knew you because you were a tutor on campus and a lot of them swore they got their credits thanks to you) was a cool feeling. Abby felt cool because she was friends with you. 

"I have plans tomorrow with Caitlyn." You said as you checked the time on your phone. "I'll head out."

"Already?"

"Yeah. But you have fun, okay? Call me if you need me." 

"Need you?" Abby raised her eyebrow.

"What if you get so drunk you'd need assistance?" You teased and hugged Abby. "Have fun! See you at home."

"Okay, mom." Abby laughed and watched you leave, just a bit sad. 

She found Ellie and hung out with her friends until she needed a refill of her beer. And while she was waiting for her beer, someone scooted closer to her and coughed, catching her attention. 

Abby turned her head to see a guy her age with a stubble. He smiled at her and Abby smiled back, a little confused.

"I was at your fight today." He said as he looked her over, and Abby got thrills from his attention. "You know how to throw a punch."

"Thanks." Abby said, pleased. Guys rarely liked the fact she could fuck them up, and hearing a guy saying she was good was ego boosting. 

"I'm Owen." He stretched his hand for a handshake, and Abby took it.

"Abby." 

The vibration of notifications woke you up and you expected to see Caitlyn’s message saying she finally went to sleep. You checked the time - 3am - and looked at your notifications. Indeed, Caitlyn messaged you half an hour ago with “if i see you earlier than 12pm ill kill you”, but there were other notifications. 

from: Abby

Hi im with a boy

sorry

promise we won’t be loud 

Your heart sank, but you didn’t even have time to process your emotions as you heard the front door open and people talking in hushed voices. Of fucking course you woke up just in time to hear Abby come home with a guy. They quickly made their way to Abby’s bedroom, trying to be quiet, but you got hyper aware of every noise. Fuck.

It hurt, and it hurt even more because you were so fucking stupid. You knew from the beginning Abby would never be interested in you because you were a girl, but the safety of your apartment where the two of you existed in your small little bubble made you delusional. 

Abby was just affectionate and touchy, and you were stupid and read it the way you wanted to read it, getting your hopes up. Stupidstupidstupid

You heard the bed creak on the other side of the wall and your throat tightened. Abby liked guys and she was having sex with a guy right now while you felt your heart crush, because you overestimated yourself and thought you could easily manage your feelings. 

The problem was that you forgot that feelings were not manageable and not something you could compromise with. You couldn’t just decide not to feel something and then actually stop feeling it. This mindset trapped you into repression and repression could only go so far, and now the fucking dam was broken. 

You were in love with Abby, and you had no chance and Caitlyn was right: you were hurting yourself. 

You didn’t cry, keeping your composure and snickering at the lack of the noise from the other side: either Abby was very quiet in bed or the sex wasn’t good. That thought made you feel better, not for any noble reason: you were hurt and you wanted Abby to not feel good too, and you didn’t really care at that moment that it wasn’t her fault.

Somehow you fell asleep, not bothered by any noise - that made you smile cruelly again - and you tried not to think about this situation and your own feelings.

Caitlyn was right, you needed a distraction. 

Abby woke up with a pleasant ache in her body and her head hurting just a little. Her bed was empty and she was relieved - she didn’t like to wake up next to someone she barely knew. 

Well, knew enough to have sex with him, but not enough to wake up next to him. Abby genuinely liked Owen - he was easy going and polite, and honestly? Maybe you were right when you said you didn’t really need to know someone to hook up with them. And hey, Abby was so touch-starved she was too touchy with you, so it seemed like a great idea yesterday. It felt like it worked - she was probably too lonely the whole time and now she was relaxed and there was no pull to go and cuddle you. It made her feel guilty - if she stopped wanting to be close to you after she hooked up then it meant she was just selfish this whole time, substituting what she actually needed with whatever she could get from you.

Yeah, she didn’t feel like a good person right now. 

Abby stood up from her bed and assessed the damage: two bruises on her inner thighs and a hickey on her collarbone, not that bad. She didn’t like when guys left marks on her - it mostly caused problems with covering up, but Owen was kinda good with not leaving marks everywhere. 

Abby put her clothes on and made her way to the bathroom when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety: not only Owen was still here, but he was talking to you. Shit. 

Abby felt bad for bringing someone home without actually discussing it with you beforehand and now you were making small talk at 11am with a guy who was supposed to leave a long time ago. 

Owen noticed Abby and smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

“Morning.” He looked down at her neck and Abby blushed a little. 

“Morning.” Abby responded and waited for Owen to come closer to her.

He put his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek and Abby melted a little.

“Sorry, I have to go already, but text me anytime.” Owen murmured before leaving a small peck on her lips and Abby nodded. 

Owen left and Abby went to the kitchen where you were drinking tea and looking ready for the day while Abby felt like a mess. The guilt overpowered her and she sat on the chair opposite of you.

“Sorry for yesterday, I know we haven’t discussed bringing people over.” Abby said, but you smiled at her.

“Hey, we are young and horny, can’t blame you for getting your stress relief.” You chuckled kindly, and Abby felt relieved. “He didn't seem like a total asshole.”

Abby laughed, knowing it was a pick at her standards.

“Well, just as you said, don’t really have to know him to hook up with him.”

“See, you’re learning.” You nodded your head approvingly and Abby laughed again. “Actually, while we’re still on the topic, can I bring girls over?”

“I mean, yeah, I think as long as we don’t disturb each other, everything is a fair game.” Who was Abby to deny your own needs when she literally brought a guy over?

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You didn't look too happy right now, and it confused Abby to a degree, but she didn't ask.

What Abby didn’t know in that moment, that by giving you permission to bring girls over, she started the end of it all.

--------

To: Yoon Jiwoo

Hi! 

Would you like to grab a coffee with me?

[placentaeater999]

YOU ALL.

I know we (almost) all like fishes or have liked fishes at some point

(The autisms)

I wanna find out if we have reasons in common or if its just like

Random

So i made a google form pls fill it out

EDIT: Thanks for so many responses y'all! I'm gonna leave the form open all week, and then next Monday (Feb 13) I'm gonna start making my charts and writing up what ive collected! So if youre as interested in the results as I am, stay tuned!

EDIT 2: As of today (Monday Feb 13, 2023 @5PM PST) the autism fish form is closed. Later today or tomorrow i'll show some of the data before i put it into a nicer format :3

EDIT 3: (Friday March 3, 2023) I haven't been able to work on compiling and analyzing my raw data yet due to school and work, but I should be able to do it this weekend! Exciting!

EDIT 4: (Monday May 21, 2023) FINALLY i can get this done omfg. Expect it by the end of the week ;3

EDIT 5: (Wednesday May 31, 2023) Got all the important shit done now i just have to write it all nice.

EDIT 6: (Tuesday August 1, 2023) Im halfways done writing it, i have no laptop so im using the library, which you can only use for 2 hours a day.

EDIT 7: (Wednesday August 2, 2023) I'm DONE writing. Time to make and add in some graphs and ill be done.

EDIT 8: (Thursday August 3, 3023) PlacentaEater's autism fish Paper is now up for you all to view! I will link it here as well. Thanks for ur support and ur patience!

[therentyoupay]

Hi, I was just wondering if technical difficulties is abandoned?

I hope you’re doing well!

*drops in after 5 years and 4 months with a technical difficulties chapter update*

*disappears*

cover art made by @angel-gidget ♡

03/08/23. HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, ALL, LONG LONG LONG TIME, NO SEE. ♡ Can you believe it? When I first published this story (first to tumblr, then to ao3), I had just moved to Japan! When I posted ch. 7, I was still living in Japan, and would stay there for another 7ish months... and in the 5 years and 4 months since posting the last chapter, I have moved to three different cities in the United States and started a Ph.D. program. (I am currently halfway through my PhD program!!!!!) What a wild ride. Also, we lived through the pandemic?! And I bought a house! Over the summer! The market was vicious.

So, then how did I get the inspiration/time/energy/motivation to write Ch. 8, you ask? Marvelous question. I lied down in bed last night to go to sleep "early" and ended up reading an utterly hilarious play-by-play commentary on Bad Books, Good Times of a popular fantasy novel series—and I'm not quite sure what it was about "poorly written books explained by hilariously clever book lovers" but I suddenly had a craving for fanfiction, so I opened up my Books app on my phone, and my eyes fell upon a sudden recommendation for my downloaded copy of technical difficulties. And I thought, "Am I suddenly and weirdly in the mood to jot down some notes to start Ch. 7 right now? By golly, I think I am."

4.5 hours later, I'd written the whole damn thing from scratch on my phone in my Notes app. (Messily! Half-assed! But I wrote all of it down!) I then spent another 6.5 hours today filling in the gaps and "editing." This chapter (and the one that will follow it) has been in my head for more than half a decade, but I just haven't had the space to get it out until now!!

I think one of the most beautiful parts of getting a PhD is how completely it blows your perfectionism tendencies utterly to bits, and one of the really interesting byproducts that has come up in my acdemic writing is just how quickly I can crank out decent-enough writing (skill-building!!). In my case, I think so much of it has to do with just being able to word vomit fairly well while not trying to fix anything until the whole damn thing is basically done. So, I applied that knowledge here! Behold!

This isn't to say that I'll be writing the final chapter anytime soon—I may be on spring break right now and may have had a stroke of Writing Inspiration in the Wild™ last night, but I'm still finishing my last semester of classes and learning advanced Python and working on my milestone paper for my doctoral program and preparing to present at my next conference in June and preparing my proposal for my dissertation next fall. BUT! The important thing is that I will post the last chapter of this story (and all my other stories)! Eventually!! ;)

No BETA for this chapter because I gotta THROW this out onto the internet and get back to coding, so bear with! I may do minor edits for it in the near or distant future. Also, please note that I have not watched any episodes of Miraculous Ladybug after the finale of Season 1, so this fic is very much a ~time capsule~ from the past. If there is any additional lore that might otherwise apply to the plot of this fic, please know that I don't know about it, and I am keeping myself selectively ignorant on all matters of Miraculous Ladybug season 2 and beyond until after I finish this story the way I originally intended. ♡ Woo!

as for, tumblr, sadly, to be honest, I'm never really online anymore! I'll respond to comments here on ao3 ASAP, though. ♡ LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU. ♡♡♡

[fitgothgirl]

Anxious today. Probably because I started out the day by spending a couple hours doing a preliminary write out of what I eventually want to say to my mom. It's not everything I want to say, and some stuff might be there that shouldn't necessarily stay, plus it just needs editing for flow and whatnot. But regardless, and even if don't send her anything at all, it feels cathartic to write out and to organize my thoughts. But it wasn't a great start to the day, especially since it's a dark and rainy one.

My weed break has officially begun; my "last" day of smoking was this past Sunday, but last night was a friend's birthday party and since I knew that was coming and people would be smoking, I had decided to give myself some leeway for the event before continuing on for realz. After having tapered down to smoking only a bowl/partial bowl after 10pm every other evening, one sesh after 5 days of nothing didn't seem like a big deal; it's not like I'm needing to be clean for a drug test or something. But now that the party is passed, no more for 8 weeks.

The last week has been surprisingly fine in terms of cravings, or rather, lack thereof. The tapering down and practice of weedless days really feels like it helped in that aspect. It's actually also a bit of a relief that I'm not dealing with locking it up in my kSafe every night and thinking about "oh is it a smoking day today?" etc. The answer is now always the same and it's not something to even think about. And I feel like since I'm not so in my head of "is it a smoking day," I've oddly been drinking less too; before on non-smoking days I'd replace it with alcohol, even just a little, but somehow not smoking at all hasn't made me want to drink everyday? I don't fully understand why but it's nice to not feel like I "need" something every night.

I say things are going well specifically in the aspect of cravings and whatnot because unfortunately, after almost 4 months of working on tapering, completely stopping has still given me withdrawal symptoms with my sleep. I was okay the first night because my body had gotten used to that, but after that (besides last night's sleep since I smoked at the party yesterday), I've been having really bad night sweats and vivid dreams/nightmares. Some mild insomnia has come up too. The night before last I had used CBD I got for this reason, but I think I may need more than a single (10mg) capsule since I woke up all sweaty about 3 hours later after a vivid nightmare. Despite the CBD, I had still prepared for sleep issues that night by putting my gabapentin bottle on my nightstand, so when I woke up in the night, I popped a couple of those. It definitely helped with the insomnia/light sleeping, but I still had sweats and vivid dreams. Hoping that the smoking last night actually will have helped me in this area though since it wouldn't have undid everything in terms of my cannabinoid receptors (I don't think?) but basically might have helped calm things down a bit before I continue on. We'll see how I sleep tonight though. I at least hope yesterday didn't make things worse lol.

But regardless, the withdrawal I had been so worried about dealing with on my trip (we leave in a week!) was overwhelming preoccupation with smoking, near inability to eat, irritability, anxiety, bad insomnia, etc., and these things aren't problems. Even if I continue to get night sweats and vivid dreams despite last night, I know it's very temporary, and it doesn't really interfere with my day. And if my memory serves me in how this progresses, I think it'll be done by the time we leave, especially since I had already been tapering as opposed to cold turkey. Even if it's somehow still lingering, I'm confident that I'll still be able to enjoy my time in Costa Rica.

Also, this is about a lot more than the Costa Rica trip anyway (hence the continuation of the break afterward). This is my first time taking a break from weed because I really want to for personal reasons, and I genuinely don't want to be that all-day-everyday stoner anymore. Aside from withdrawal, I've done so much work mentally and it's crazy to see how far I've come in under 5 months.

I have other stuff I could update since I haven't been doing so lately, but I'll leave this post as it is now since it's already a novel lmao.

[zukkaoru]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @starrynightarchive and @feralshadowdemon, ty for the tag!! putting most of this under a cut since it's long lol

tagging (with no pressure): @that-was-anticlimactic @backhurtyy @rejectscanon

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

167 linked to my main ao3 account. maybe some others floating around that have been made anonymous or orphaned or something. who knows

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

965,845 - okay wow i did not realize i was that close to 1mil. huh

3. what fandoms do you write for?

well right now the bsd brainrot has taken hold of me and i cannot think of much else. but i do have a handful of zine fics for other fandoms that are in progress / will be posted eventually. i have a very long list of fandoms i have written for in the past; however, i would not recommend reading anything posted before 2021

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

plum blossom

you clutched my brain and eased my ailing

my calamitous love & insurmountable grief

five times ryan came out (and one time he couldn't)

(just wanna be) somebody i'm proud of

my disclaimer here is that these are absolutely nowhere even close to being by best fics and i kind of resent them being my top five

5. do you respond to comments

i'm trying🫠 i let like 600+ pile up in my inbox over the course of a year and a half (or more) and so i recently went through and just marked everything as read instead of actually responding. BUT (almost) all comments on fics posted since ~august 2023 will get responses. exceptions are if i literally don't know what to say bc i'm bad at talking to people sorry

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

you don't even want to know the horrors that showed up in my google docs this weekend. but also either if one of us dies or may we stay lost on our way home

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i'll go with this ultraviolet morning light just bc it's probably the greatest payoff since it takes longest to get to the happy ending

8. do you get hate on fics?

not typically but there have been a few mean comments over the years. actually i got one bookmark on a fic that's in a series for a fanweek that says "ignore the others in this series but this one is good" and honest to god it just made me laugh. like.. you do realize i can see that, right?

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

i can barely write kiss scenes

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

i don't usually BUT when i was in middle school my friend and i created The Megacrossover, which consisted of us putting a bunch of different book characters into a hunger games arena. and we just kept adding more fandoms, and having new characters be transported into the arena. it was a good time. this was also entirely handwritten as all fanfiction should be when you're 10-12 years old

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge. definitely found one fic that was like. heavily influenced by mine back in my ouat days though

12. what's the longest you've spent working on a fic? and the shortest?

longest: over a year, at least shortest: a couple hours (not including editing)

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

not technically since the megacrossover but corey and i co-come up with ideas like. at least once a week

14. what's your all-time favorite ship? from all fandoms?

outlaw queen has to be my answer to this forever and always. never forgive never forget 🏹🍎

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

too many to answer. probably the biggest one is the azula-centric sequel to tuvml that i simply do not have the attention to write bc the hyperfixations have travelled elsewhere :( there are many many others though. i have an endless amount of ideas and not enough time

16. what are your writing strengths?

people often tell me i'm good at characterization and tbh i do pride myself on knowing characters better than 97% of the rest of the fandom. not all of the characters. but most of them.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

short attention span </3

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

do whatever you want forever. but like.. respectfully

19. first fandom you wrote for?

probably percy jackson when i was like 10. no you cannot find that anywhere online because i, like an idiot, deleted it without saving a backup copy

20. favorite fic you've written?

definitely (i am) the whisper of a memory. i love a lot of my fics, but that is one i am especially proud of because i tried new things with the formatting and i think it worked really really well

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 30, 1993 I am at my new job now where there’s way more money, yet plenty of time to write. I now work at Favors a half-hour away from where I live, but it’s a million times better than a bar. I have so much updating to do and you’d never believe all that’s happened. It’s amazing. Counting me, 8 girls work here. My name here is Shauna. There is also Sarah, Alyssa, Amber, Monique (I haven’t met Kayla yet), and another girl who was hired. Lea and her husband Ron are the owners. Lea dances here and there and Ron’s the photographer.

FRIDAY, JUNE 25, 1993 I have quite a bit to discuss and some of it isn’t cool.

The Candy Store hired me on the 12th. Up front, they promised me I could work nights. Friday night I made $141! Then these idiots had the nerve to tell me I couldn’t come back but was welcomed to their club in Bullhead City. That’s 4 hours away! They offered to drive me and pay for my food and hotel, but I’d be gone for weeks at a time. Away from all my stuff. No thanks. This is legit, though, as other dancers said they’ve done it before, too. Bullhead City is deader than dead. Finally, they told me I could stay with them if I’d work days. Fuck that!

Last night I called Centerfolds, only to not be told what I should’ve been told over the phone. Instead, Andy came all the way over here, I got all decked out only to go there and be told they had too many night shift girls. I told them over the phone I’d only work nights. There were a lot of girls in there, too. Of all different types. Some were bigger, some were smaller. They also own Band-Aids and they told me I’d be hired there, but it’s too far away.

Then, Andy checked the New Times. Everything was so far away, but I called a place called Favors that does private room dancing. The girl there said they usually make $500 - $900 a week, but it’s 25 minutes away. I called the cab company and asked how much the fare would be and I was told $15. You have to work 5 days a week, so both ways would be $150 a week in cab fare! This is crazy.

I also called an ad for a model, but the guy said it’d be only once a week for two hours and only $10 an hour.

My last choice and only choice is to return to the Mile High. However, with the way everyone’s been going back on their word with me, I’m afraid they’ll do that too, even though I’ve been told I could return if I wanted or needed to. While I was talking to Tammy, I was talking to Mark and he said to call him tomorrow. This tells me something scary. Where the fuck do I go if he contradicts me too? I’ll just have to call tomorrow and hope for the best. I’ll pray to God, but don’t know if I believe in that or if it’ll work.

I just called the Mile High and now fucking Mark’s going back on his word, too! That motherfucker!

I just paged Steve and he’s checking into the name of a possible nearby escort service, but he doesn’t know if it’s still open. He also may know in a week if he’s gonna be running some other escort service. If I were to try Favors, he said he’ll cut 1/3 of the fare and have his day driver take me in and he’d take me home. The last possibility is Highlighters. I called them and they’re accepting applications. So, it’ll be either Favors, an escort service Steve will run, Highlighters, or this other one that’s closer if it’s open.

I’m really fucking pissed at the Candy Store and the Mile High. Every time I get something set up that’s good for me as far as money and schedules, someone just has to come and fuck it all up. I would’ve done really well working nights at the candy store, but it’s their loss, too. They’re losing someone good.

There are other possibilities, but they’re way in the future if they ever happen. It has to do with Tom and his computers and maybe my music and or edits. He’s been working these 12-hour killer shifts and he wants to change jobs. Computers are his thing. He mentioned something about how he designs the instructions for Nintendo games and would need to use my ear for certain pitches. We’ll see, but in the meantime, he has a computer hooked up to a keyboard, so what music you play is printed out so you don’t have to write it. He’s also checking into my getting my songs sold once and for all. If he can figure out how to get that started, I’ll take it from there.

Andy asked why in the world I want to sell my songs and get so little while someone else could make millions. Well, I’m never gonna be rich and famous and singing my own songs, so why not let someone else do it? Little money’s better than no money.

I just went to call Andy, but he’s either on the phone or has it off the hook as it only rang once.

Tom took me to see my new doctor last Monday. She was nice, but some time before I go back I must have blood work done. Fun, huh?

I also have to make an appointment at Montgomery/Ward to have my picture taken, but these things aren’t my top priority now.

I haven’t edited Stacey’s message yet to put on the machine over there, but on the 16th, Judy left a message. She only said that if this were still my number, please call her back. She never left a reason. It’s probably over the rent they say I owe that I don’t owe. It could also be to question me about Bob’s letter, but how could they tie that to me? All they can do is suspect me.

Speaking of the VV, well, there were two guys shot over there a few days ago. They arrested a guy I don’t know. In fact, Andy called up Judy to ask about it. She said the people who were shot don’t even live there, and no residents were involved.

I edited Tom the other day and he sure got a kick out of it. He and I get along so great (for now). He does seem understanding of how hard it is for me to trust people and why, but right now, at this moment, we have a great friendship. He’s very sensitive and even though we’re complete opposites, we don’t try to change one another. Opposites almost never get along. So far he’s kept his word on things and he says he’s treating me to a trip to Vegas in about 4 weeks, but I still have to see it to believe it as much as I think he’s telling the truth. He said, “Ok, I understand. I like to prove myself anyway.”

DES sent a letter for an appointment for food stamps. Then, they turned around and sent a change report form and I said could do it by mail. I’ll try, but it’ll be hit or miss.

I still have to see Andy and Tom’s new place. Andy says he likes it where he is, but the guy above him stomps 24 hours a day. Well, I can’t say I pity him as whoever lives below him is hearing the same thing from him.

Andy’s gonna rent a camcorder one of these days soon, so we can film our apartments and surroundings for our families. We’ll split the cost.

A few days ago Andy was here, and guess who he ran into as he was driving out? Driving in front of him was none other than Conman himself. They ended up talking for an hour and a half. Andy began to follow him and so they pulled over to talk right by my old apartment.

He swears up and down that he’s gonna give Andy his stuff back this Saturday, but we know he’s full of shit. He’s a head player. He likes to promise shit he’s never gonna do and he obviously loves to go to court. The head player swears he never had any intentions of conning me, but I know that’s BS too. He said he has canceled plane tickets as proof. He bitched that I was supposed to have trusted him to take me on the 7th, and cuz I called Steve twice, he canceled it. Yeah, right. Great excuse. He mentioned me calling his father, but I didn’t do that till after the 7th. He said I called Pepsi but that’s BS cuz I don’t even know who to call. I know they’re not listed as Pepsi. Probably some kind of machine repair service, but there are so many. Andy said that we both know he never intended to take me to L.A. And that he doesn’t know Bill. Naturally, he denied it as well as the letter I got in the mail two days ago.

It was addressed to “Slut” O and it said: Dear Jodi: You sick, ugly, dancing whore. We all know where you live. Your Caller ID won’t save you. The police will be by to escort you back to Mass. where you belong, love???

Very few people know I have Caller ID and what happened in MA. Of everyone I know, this is Scott’s style and perfect timing. It could’ve been Steve too, as they’re tight together. They’re an “item.” It could’ve been someone at the VV, but I highly doubt it and I’ll get into why I doubt it in a moment. The thing of it is, though, they addressed it to the other apartment. I’ll bet Scott couldn’t remember the new apartment number off the top of his head, so he wrote the old one knowing it’d be forwarded here. He was probably too terrified to chance running into me if he came by here. I doubt Scott wrote it as it’s too neat for a male to have written. I’ll bet he had Crystal write it.

I doubt Stacey had anything to do with it, but there’s a slim possibility. She could’ve gotten my forwarding address, suspected me on Bob’s letter and done it. She never liked me, especially in the beginning, and she’s very serious, old-fashioned and very narrow-minded. She would be the type to hate dancers, she knows I have Caller ID and she knows about MA.

The only other possibilities are Donna and Andi over there, but they don’t have the info about MA or caller ID.

It’s definitely Scott and Steve, but the difference between Stacey and Keri over here is the difference between black and white. Scott and Steve are great for each other and they can have a happy life together, but it’s only a matter of time before they both fuck each other over.

Scott said he could’ve sent the tape to MA and gotten me in big trouble.

Bull. He wouldn’t even know who to contact and where. I also spoke to a cop for info as far as the tapes go and he says they’re not admissible in court. Who the fuck knows, but I am far from worried. It’d kill his ego to go to the cops anyway. Scott’s got 3 major problems. 1. He lies. 2. He never does what he says he’s gonna do. 3. He contradicts himself and or denies things that he or others said or did.

Andy said several times he wanted to come fuck me up, but Crystal stopped him. Yeah, right. A girl who hates me and is totally on his side is gonna stop him? The truth is, he’s fucking terrified of me and we all know it.

He said, why should he help me? What’s he get in return? Andy told him the truth and that’s that he would’ve had a grateful friend and I would’ve helped him in any way possible.

I can sense, and have been told by Scott himself, how fucked up Crystal is. Well, they can both fuck each other over. They deserve each other.

Now here’s the best of the Scott news as far as the tape’s concerned. He is fucking terrified, according to Andy! Great. I don’t feel one bit guilty after all he’s done to me. Andy could see how the tape had him all stressed out and scared shitless. Scott also says he’s terrified I’m gonna fuck up his cars. He also says he’s still having problems with Eric and the office here as far as his apartment goes. Good. He deserves it. He can feel many of the things he’s made me feel. He’s always gonna have enemies till he learns how to treat people.

In other news, I just called the Candy Store and asked for Russ. He’s the owner and Omar’s cousin. I told him again I can’t work days, but does he have anything open for nights yet? He told me to call him Monday but I can’t buy anything anyone says till I see it work out. I really do want to return if nothing else comes up. The money’s great there and the girls were nice.

There’s this gorgeous girl there who says she’s bi. I know she’ll never call me, but I gave her my number anyway. There are a few girls working there that I know. Sativa (who goes by Chanelle), Rena, and none other than the gorgeous Marcella herself.

At the pool today I met this very pretty and nice girl named Susan who’s visiting from Flagstaff. She’s had gay friends but I think she’s straight.

Two days ago I met a really nice couple and their 10-year-old son at the pool.

As far as Alicia, well, I met her a couple of weeks ago and there’s no way I want to be her friend. She’s more of a wacko than Ellie was. She didn’t do anything to me, but I have a feeling she may if I don’t avoid her. I’m surprised that she hasn’t called. Anyway, we met at the pool where she lives and she reminds me so much of K.D. Lang. K.D. Lang’s ugly, butchy and she’s very plain. Very tall and skinny and she’s bi. She’s addicted to a million different medications due to anxiety, stress, depression, anger, you name it. She talks frantically non-stop and I can’t get a word in edgewise. She flips from one very emotional subject to another, and no, I was never that bad myself.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 16, 1993 I just got through talking to Andy who was very depressed. He hates his job and most of his coworkers.

Before talking to Andy, I spoke with Tom. He says he’s trying to think of something marketable for my edits with a possibility of money being made, too. Sometime I gotta go check his new house out and all his different computers.

Next Monday at 1:45 I have to see Dr. Wilcox. Tom’s taking me.

I’m gonna edit Tom soon as well as Stacey. In 10 minutes the office closes at the VV. I’ll record her outgoing message, edit it, then put it on the office machine.

Andy called her Monday cuz they ripped off part of his deposit money, which figures. I listened silently as typical Stacey had her mind made up and wouldn’t budge. Then I called and said she was a bitch. She giggled and said, “Jodi, I’ve already turned your name over to collections.”

I said fine and laughed, then she hung up. No mention of Bob’s letter I sent her. Sarah’s to be getting Bob’s next letter. Sarah’s given Andy and I her VM code, so we call here and there and pick up her messages.

US West really pissed me off last week. I mean, this fucking phone company is so fucked up. I never ordered the removal of my Caller ID blocks (it blocks my name and number from others with caller ID). They did anyway, cuz I got a call from a Steven P. I called the number back and there were 3 or 4 kids. A girl named Robin was trying to call her friend Meagan and her number is one digit off mine. So I crossed them a few times, then I heard the boy say (the girl’s brother), “I have her name and number.” So naturally, I’m thinking, the hell you do. But then he said my name and I was like, fuck you, US West! I bitched the damn company out and now I’m re-blocked.

Still no word or call from asshole Scott, but I left the tape by his door. Hope he enjoys it.

I’m working the next 3 nights and I can’t wait to see how the money is. A girl named Alicia I met who lives here says she’ll drive me in. I’ll write more about her later.

I need to give Tom $20 and the office $97.35.

TUESDAY, JUNE 15, 1993 Lots to update… Last Sunday I worked at the Candy Store from noon-5 PM and made $39, even though it was dead due to the basketball finals. There were things I liked and disliked. The Mile High is definitely the nicest-looking club. It’s nice and roomy and so was the dressing room and bathroom. The dressing room at the Candy Store’s too damn small. Even smaller than Sha Na Na’s.

Last Saturday I called Mark at the Mile High and told him what happened with Scott and L.A. He was very understanding about it. He told me John and some of his friends were in looking for me. Wait till I tell John, who’s gonna want to kill Scott as much as I do. His pager’s been disconnected so I can’t contact him. I told Steve and Mark and Pete to tell him to call me if they see him.

I told Meagan to give Tiffany my number. She’s having a costume altered for me.

Steve’s gonna pick me up from work, and Alicia, a neighbor, may bring me in. I’ll get to her later, but Pete was encouraging me to come back and was bashing the Candy Store. He said anytime I wanted to return, I could. That’s cool to know.

I want to give the Candy Store a chance and see how money is there. I really do think it’ll be better. I’ll be working every other Sunday. Then from 6 PM - 1 AM and every Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 6 PM - 1 AM.

The Candy Store does look nice, though. It’s all mirrors and lights and so far the girls seem ok. There are two stages. You do two sets per stage and that sucks, but oh well. If I make more money there, it’ll be worth it.

Tom took me to both places, but he said he’d stay in the car since he’s straight and attracted to me.

He and I tried to fix my typewriter and we couldn’t. It’s getting worse too, and I believe very soon I’ll need to go to another pawnshop.

There are several things I need and want.

Tammy told the 3 different credit card companies for who she owes thousands that she moved here. She gave them my name, number and address, and I keep telling them she’s sending money soon when they call. She got a job as a security guard and says she’ll send them money soon.

Andy moved and he loves his apartment but says his neighbors can be noisy. I had a bad feeling about that.

He came over yesterday and brought over the straightening iron from Velma. I like it and it’s even easier to use than the crimping iron. It’s quicker, I mean.

I gave him a new spare key.

Sometime soon I have to make another appointment with Montgomery/Ward. Andy says it’ll be no problem taking me there cuz he lives right near there.

I also have a new female doctor (Dr. Wilcox) and I have to see her. I must get my teeth cleaned, too.

I must start saving money for various things. A bedroom set and a fan on a stand. Maybe an entertainment center someday. New swimsuits, new sneakers, new blank videos, CDs and I’m sure there’s some other stuff I’m forgetting.

I spoke with both my parents a while ago and it was ok, but I know soon enough they’ll be back to their same old shit. My mother did shock me, though, by admitting she did fuck up as a mother.

I never sent Ma a birthday card, but I sent Dad a Father’s Day card.

A few weeks ago I was listening to this radio station with two male DJs and one female named Jamie. The guys were picking on her saying she had PMS, so they set up a hotline. Naturally, the guy callers took the guy’s side and the women sided with Jamie. Jamie asked one female caller if she had a husband or a boyfriend and she said, “No, but I have a wife and a girlfriend.”

I turned around and called and asked Jamie if she had a husband or boyfriend. She said yes. I said she oughta consider dating a woman cuz they’re more sensitive.

Can you believe 20 minutes later they put that on the air, too?

SUNDAY, JUNE 13, 1993 Tom will be here any minute. I don’t have time to write about everything right now. But I can say this - I was hired at the Candy Store yesterday with no audition! Neat, huh? I’m on my way over there till 6:00, then I’ll be working Thursday - Saturday.

SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1993 Continuing with Scott - well - he’s gonna get a tape, but not till Andy gets his stuff back (his VCR & tape recorder). Keri left a note on his door to bring his stuff to the office and he hasn’t. Andy’s gonna take legal action since Scott’s continuing to play his favorite game of never doing anything he says he’s gonna do.

My friendship is his loss. As I said, he knew exactly what he was doing. With all the things he told me about his life and himself, who knows what was really true and what was bullshit. He and Steve (the guard who turned out to be a complaining, whining asshole) would make great lovers if they were gay. They’re both so unstable and insecure and Steve goes from sweet and kind one minute to flipping out the next. They’re great for each other. They can’t impress people with the truth, they’ve got to lie to feel as if they’ve impressed you.

I know this wasn’t an issue of sex for Scott as he’s happy with Chris, so he says. Andy called her to tell her to tell him to leave his stuff in the office and she blew a fuse. She denied any relationship with Scott, but I think she was just covering him.

The tape speaks my mind as well as lets him know that I’m a firm believer in what goes around comes around. That I’d love for him to come face me. If he’s so tough and not a wimp, why won’t he face me? The guy’s never home and the few times I knocked when there were lights on and I knew he was home, he was too chicken to open the door.

I left a message with his father which was, “All in due time.”

I just left Andy a message that I know my VCR’s a piece of shit, but he could have it if he wants it.

Now, there are certain things I don’t think are Scott’s style, but I also didn’t think it was his style to be a con artist, so I changed my locks. Maintenance did it for $25. I’m 99% sure he’d never enter while I was here and 98% sure he wouldn’t while I was gone, but why take any chances? He could come in to take back the TV, but for what he’s put me through, he owes me this much. Along with the couch. Believe me, though, I wish he would come in with me here. He’s too chicken to even call, let alone face me in person.

I also was sure to put lots of lies on the tape; exactly what I got from him.

So far Tom’s been a great friend. It looks as if he’s gonna stay that way, but who knows? Who knows what the future holds? This is what Tammy said too, who is just as pissed at Scott as I am. No, I never thought I’d live here and find a job I liked, but my dream is 100% hopeless. Why waste my money on a demo like Andy says? The same con games will happen.

Later…

I haven’t been to work in a week cuz Scott fucked my schedule up with his games. Also, I’ve been wanting to get out of the Mile High cuz it’s so dead. Tom’s gonna take me to audition at the Candy Store. At 3:00, when the Mile High opens, I’ve got to go clean out my locker. My latex, heels and several costumes are there. The guy at the Candy Store said I could come in any time and easily cut $100 a night. Let’s hope so. Many have said it’s good money there and it’s the same distance away. They have the same long killer shifts Sha Na Na’s did from 11 AM-6 PM & 6 PM-1 AM. You don’t have to work a minimum of 4 days or nights, though, which is cool. I’d like to hopefully get Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 6 PM-1AM. I do have a good vibe about money there.

The name Mystery has got to go. I wanted a unique name, but it’s too far out. I’m sick of, “What’s your name?” “History?” “Misery?” “Are you a mystery?”

I think I may go by Shaunee.

I only owe $97.35 for this month on rent. All my other bills are paid.

Jamie (Gail) called while I was at the pool. She wanted to know where I’ve been.

I’ll write more later.

THURSDAY, JUNE 10, 1993 As of yesterday, I’ve been here for a year. I feel as if I’ve accomplished so much as well as nothing at the same time.

Well, L.A. was all one big fucking con. Just one big fucking joke. I’m right back where I’ve always been with my singing - nowhere. I’m both shocked and not shocked. I’m not shocked cuz I really believe God doesn’t want me to have my dream or anything else that really matters to me. I’m shocked cuz Scott’s the last person I ever thought would be a con artist.

Well, I hope Scott’s real fucking happy. I rearranged my whole fucking schedule and got all psyched up over nothing. He knew exactly what he was doing and intended this from day one. The anger, frustration, anxiety and depression over this are gonna last quite a while. I’m not gonna ever let myself lose this bitterness for the sake of protecting myself. I hope he knows he’s made just as much an ass of himself as he has of me. You don’t know how it’s been one hell of an ordeal to restrain myself from going over there and bashing his head. He obviously knows this as he’s not called or come over. He’s chicken shit and no doubt very embarrassed.

He’ll get his, though, and I’ll write more about it later.

[booksbydlwhite]

Bookcast 85: WE'RE BACK!

Welcome to episode 85 of the Bookcast, my platform for sharing short fiction and updates on what I'm reading and writing. I'm DL White, author of contemporary  romantic fiction novels that center Black love and relationships. I'm also a big fan of books, so we usually begin with the book report, then we talk about writing and topics of the day. 

I’m currently editing The Pearl, a Black Diamond romance.

The Bookcast is a production of Books by DL White, written, edited, produced and supported by ME. If you'd love to back me up, I'd be most grateful. The best way to do that is to TALK about the books, but also BUY THE BOOKS! You can always drop a coin in the hat at bookcast.buzzsprout.com.   Booksbydlwhite.com/books has all of the good stuff in eBook or audio.

The only title I have on sale right now is Beach Thing. It’s $2.99 at select outlets like Chirp so if you don’t own it and you didn’t get it at the library and haven’t used your free hours on Spotify Premium…. snatch it up at chirp.  

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SHOW (GRAB A TRANSCRIPT HERE)

The Book Report

I have read 74 books of my challenge to read 150 books this year. I am 18 books ahead on my Goodreads challenge. I read 16 books in April, most of them romance but as soon as I finished The Pearl, I dove right into mysteries and thrillers because I try not to read them when I am writing steamy, dramatic, happy and hopeful romance.

So far I have read 12 books in May and I realized that I overextended myself on NetGalley. I had about six books I needed to read and review by their May 21st Pub day. Yikes. Some I might wait for audio but a few are romances, which I blow through very easily so I’m not worried. I do want to talk about what I read this week.

READ

About Last Night by Synithia Williams A Little Bit of Love by Synithia Williams Wanderlust: An Umber Bluffs Story by Té Russ Long Time Gone by Charlie Donlea On Her Watch (Bree Taggert, #8) by Melinda Leigh Sisters with a Side of Greens by Michelle Stimpson Long After We Are Gone by Terah Shelton Harris Waiting for Friday Night (Peachtree Cove Book 2) by Synithia Williams

READING

A Gamble at Sunset by Vanessa Riley

The Medicine Woman of Galveston by Amanda Skenandore

The 7-10 Split by Karmen Lee

A Little Kissing Between Friends by Chencia C. Higgins

THE WRITING… ERR EDITING REPORT

My book ended up at just over 76K Words, so she is a big, fine woman. This book is not as long as I used to write— some of my earlier works are over 100K words. I’ve learned to be a smidge more succinct and stop myself from writing a 100K word TOME.

I have the document back from my editor. We complete two full passes, so I have work to do! Once I complete the initial pass, I send it back to her and begin my front/back matter, perfect my back cover copy and make final edits to the cover.

Add this title to your GGoodreads or StoryGraph lists and stay tuned for snips and samples on my blog.

OUTRO…THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

I’ll be back on Saturday, May 25th!

Support this show with a recurring gift at bookcast.buzzsprout.com. Buy books by DL White at https://BooksbyDLWhite.com/books. Buy Merch by DLWhite at https://payhip.com/BooksbyDLWhite/collection/merch Find the Bookcast on booksbydlwhite.com/bookcast or your fave podcast app: Apple Podcasts | Spotify |Overcast | Podlink| Youtube

[fifteensjukebox]

Hey hello how about 01, 12, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34 and 55 for the HORRIBLE ask game. This year.

hiiiiiii anon! i haven't gotten an anon in ages this is so exciting <3

also sorry i'm answering so late i explain it in the middle but i had a family outing and i thought mobile would let me edit

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? i do! my mom's my best friend in a way i'm sure is annoying to people who don't, and my dad is annoying but he is the best dad i know

03: Do you regret anything? biiiiiig question. i try not to. i try to tell myself i needed to do things to learn or whatever but i'm always wondering how else things could've gone and second guessing things as i do them

05: What is your relationship status? very much single. if you want to hear about my latest crushes you'll find it in my "vie" and "lore" tags but i'm sure they're not going anywhere so shoot your shot!

08: Played any sports? my dad coached a soccer team i was on when i was 4 but i was more interested in the dandelions on the field… outside of required gym class stuff (which i did not enjoy) i've enjoyed tennis and beach volleyball with my family (18 y/o brother included)

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? i think my record is 36, the last day/night/flight home from seeing my now-ex tumblr gf

well. if anything (back to earlier qs i could say i regret the whole met-online-ldr thing but it was good when it happened and im seeing it work out so well for friends so it could've been worthwhile in the long run!

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? irl i don't entirely hate anyone but i have some strong mixed near-hate feelings about the exes (and one not-yet-ex? i think? they're on the way out) of people i care about, and a certain ex friend of mine (if she makes the next move in reaching out i might be able to find it in myself to forgive but at this point it won't be as easy as it could've been)

21: What are your plans for this weekend? tbd but probably festive family things? extended family christmas dinner is on monday and we'll do our gift exchange that morning (speaking of which i need to get ready rn to leave for our family brunch followed by mall trip to shop for secret santa - my parents+18 y/o brother+i do a mini secret santa - well mini in that there are only 4 names but we have a generous budget bc it's usually our main/only source of gifts amongst ourselves. i got my mom again this year and she made it a little too easy by requesting a specific pair of raybans that make up most of the budget, but i'll get creative with the rest) we're also going to the distillery district for the vibes on thursday and my dad's taking these 2 days off work so collectively it all feels like weekend plans. maybe i'll go skating on the actual weekend! i haven't done it yet this season and i miss it

update here is that i didn't find anything for mom except the raybans so i may be going out alone to shop more on fri/weekend

34: Who/what was your last dream about? damn. the one time i don't write it down. oh! ok the last one i remember was one where a version of my ex bestie and i got back together so to speak but she was being overtly manipulative and i had to decide if i was ok with that? which. thanks subconscious! way to mix her with the bitch i had a crush on in middle school! real ex-bestie would never do that but i think it's created some irrational fear where before i just had sadness that i was mostly over (to briefly recap the situation there, she's depression-ghosted and blocked me before and she did it again earlier this year but it hurt more bc we'd been closer leading up to it than we had before the first time)

55: Are you mean? i think i can be really petty but people take it hard because they think of me as being so nice, so i know of some people who'd say i'm mean

thanks again for asking anon! i hope you're having a wonderful holiday season <3

[allofmytoxicity]

A/N; So, I know that some of the time (Well, lets face it, a lot of the time) I won’t upload to a schedule, but with this, I have started a slight schedule. I’ll write Monday - Friday and then on Saturday, I will upload it to wattpad (My username is @-thenerdthatwrites-). From there on the Sunday, I’ll do editing and then upload the finished shiny version on here, and then I’ll also edit the one on wattpad. So, yeah, Kapeesh? Kapeesh.

Chapter Synopsis; After the news about the voices, Kaitlyn and Jameson spend a while down at the lake, before being interrupted by someone unexpected, before an argument breaks out between Kaitlyn and Xander.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part ...

Story Masterlist

Words; 1,281

An Eligible Bachelor

 3 and a Half Weeks Later

Down at the lake one sunny afternoon a few weeks after my dramatic fainting down here before, I wanted to get some fresh air and get out of the stuffy castle. I was currently ranting to Jameson because, when, if the voices were correct, Father dies, he wants me to be married, and maybe at least with one child, so was having me look at different men Father had hand-picked himself.

“I just don’t get why we can’t tell him!” I ranted, annoyed at the deeply boring process I had managed to escape from.

“You know why darling. We can’t tell your Mother or Father, as there is a very high chance they will banish me from the kingdom,” Jameson said, looking up from his drawing to look at me as I read, my back against a tree nearby.

“So what! I would rather that happen and go with you than stay here and pick which man I should marry,” I said, sticking down my book.

“Well, what would you do then if that supposedly happened?” He asked, getting up from the rock he was perched on and walked towards me.

“I think I would be a hunter maybe? Maybe be like Robin Hood; steal from the rich and give to the poor?” I said, chuckling at what I said.

Jameson sat down beside me and I stuck my head on my shoulder.

“What would you do?” I ask him, looking across the lake as I did so.

“Show my art? Use the craft my Father taught me. I’m unsure just now,” He replied, continuing his sketch.

We sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s presence as we sat there, but all was forgotten as Sybil ran down to the lake, and we broke apart quickly.

“Oh thank goodness! Father was wondering where you were and I saw you sneak out this morning,” Sybil said as I stood up.

“Okay, and why did you run down here to just tell me this?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No one could find you, so after Father said at lunch that you hadn’t appeared for quite some time, I thought you may be down here reading, and it seems I was correct. One thing I do wonder is why on earth is the boy that found you when you collapsed-” Sybil said, but I cut her off partway through.

“His name is Jameson,” I say.

“Honestly, Kaitlyn, I don’t care. Anyway, why are you down here with him?” Sybil asks.

As she asks this, I hear the clinking of metal and scraping of feet against the pebbles leading down here and Xander appears before my eyes.

“Lady Sybil, you need to get back up to the Castle right now as your Mother is asking for you. Lady Kaitlyn, your Father has more Bachelors waiting in the Castle, and Mr Dorianna, your Father has appeared at the Castle asking his Majesty if anyone there knows your whereabouts. I would advise you all to come back to the Castle this instant before your respective parents become more worried,” Xander said and I could see he was trying not to yell at either Jameson or me for being so stupid by disappearing for hours.

“Alright, I better see you back in the Castle, Kaitlyn in the next hour,” Sybil said before turning and heading back up to the Castle.

After we were all sure Sybil was gone, Xander turned to us with a harsh glare on his face.

“What the hell were you two thinking! First of all, I was worried, second of all, you two were almost caught by your sister that likes to blackmail you! If you guys want to act like that I will just go and tell his majesty, if not, then you two need to start being more careful!” Xander said, trying not to get to the end of his tether and explode at us.

“If you knew why I was down here, you would understand!” I argued back, grabbing my book and starting to walk back, grabbing Jameson’s hand as I did so.

“Well, I think I bloody well do!” Xander yelled back, running to catch up with my fast pace of walking.

“I don’t care! What I currently care about is the man I want to marry, but can’t because my Father would banish him from the kingdom if I said I didn’t want to marry any duke, but a humble artist who I truly care for! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to getting so bored, I fear my brains may turn to mush and a ball to prepare for!” I say and give Xander one last glare and then run back to the castle, nearly tripping a few times as I did so.

{----------}

When I returned, I ran back to my room to find Alice sitting on my bed, one of my books in hand and sticking down when she heard the door open.

“I thought you said you were going to be out till an hour before the ball,” Alice said, setting the book down as I flopped down onto my bed beside where she sat.

“Well, Sybil came down and almost caught Jameson and I, so I had to come as she said she saw me sneaking out this morning, even with your distraction,” I said, sighing soon after and getting up to change my dress to something I could move more freely in than the dress I was wearing just now.

“At least you got to see him. I wasn’t even sure if I had given you enough time to even get to the front entrance without getting caught,” Alice said.

I laughed before replying.

“It’s safe to say Alice Olivia Lysandral, you are brilliant at distractions. Thank you. I needed it today. Ever since I collapsed, Father has been keeping a watchful eye on me and making sure I’m barely ever out of either his or Xander’s sight,” I say as I readjust my corset, letting myself breathe.

“You’re very welcome dear sister. One thing I will say is that I will need help thinking up ideas for the next distraction needed to get you seeing  Jameson,” Alice said.

Alice was one of the first people to find out about my crush on the artistic prodigy as she caught me writing a letter to him. From there, we made a deal. She would help me with distractions and keep my relationship secret if I let her read any book she wanted out of my endless bookshelves.

“Okay then, but we need to make sure that Sybil is distracted big time with the next few. We can’t have something like this happening again,” I say.

“Well, then don’t disappear while Father wants to talk to you about something,” Alice says.

“Fine, I won’t do that again. Anyway, I need to change to go for sword fight training,” I say as I get out a pair of trousers that Mother would not approve of.

“Who’s teaching you this time? Father or Xander?” Alice questions as I stick on the clothing I would need for what I was going to go do.

“Both. Xander’s training me and Father is watching to assess me on my progress,” I say and then turn to leave the room as Alice grabs my arm.

“Kaitlyn, just please be back on time. I need my big sister to help me prepare for the ball tonight,” Alice says as I leave the room, grabbing the sword that was hidden in my room as I did so.

[somethinglikelife]

There are four open files on my laptop

Why am I telling you all this?

Because I need to motivate myself. Thank you Matt for the self doubt you instilled in me when I was six.

But enough of that asshole that I called my grandfather, on to the files!

The first file is a running brain dump. On it is everything from Fanfiction ideas (yeah I write fanfiction, it's been a hobby for the last thirty years. Do I make money off it? No. Will I ever publish one of them for money? No.), novel ideas, podcast ideas, and sketch ideas for TikTok and YT sketches. This running list is updated as I think up ideas, luckily I can have it on my laptop and on my phone for easy general ideas brain dumping. And yeah, that file will NEVER be seen by others, it's written in my own short hand so yeah, it's kept as safe as I feel keeping it.

The second file is the podcast I've been working on for a while. I want the script to actually feel natural before I start recording that crazy adventure (And there might be a book series with that too if only so I can fill in details that I can't do in an auditorial form). This stays on my laptop, though while I'm at work I toy with ideas in my work notebook when I can get some time between clients.

The third is the fanfic I'm currently editing (I have been playing in DC's multiverse a bit, and the fic really needs some work even though it's unfinished). This gets toyed with when I'm stuck on other projects so it may be in it's current state for a while yet.

The last file, is the novel I'm toying with, which I started writing, honestly when I was about 8. Though it's gone through a LOT of revisions. Currently I've changed the main character about twenty times, though now I think I'm actually happy with how it's going. Hell, I started writing it before I knew what Urban fantasy is, and it's a pinch of that, mixed with some sci-fi and well, I'm still debating how I want to publish it. Self publishing has some perks, though also has a lot of pitfalls. Why is it still open on my laptop? Because it's the project that I am still trying to use to find my true voice.

Which brings me back to Matt and the words he said to a six year old Nick. On Christmas if you can believe it. My brother and I were told to go help him and Ma (my Mom's step-mother) bring the Christmas presents from their house (which was three driveways down from ours) to ours. It was a yearly tradition for about ten years, but that year... that's when I realized Mom's side of the family was toxic. My brother had gone ahead with the orange sled filled with the brightly wrapped packages, our dog Wolf was padding along beside him, enjoying the snow. Ma stayed back at their cabin to bake pies for the yearly gathering, so I was walking with my grandfather.

Someone who I always thought should be supportive of their kids and grandkids. Maybe I was a little jealous of what my cousins on my Dad's side got with being so close to his dad for the holidays (Grandpa would bake, Grams would make candy and they had a FARM! I mean really what little kid doesn't want to be on a farm? Other than farmer's kids), instead, I had Matt.

He hated anyone with an education higher than third grade, and hated anyone who read books. Mind you as a kid, I always had my nose in a book. It was the first thing I packed when going on a camping trip (Yeah I'm one of those campers that will take two pairs of jeans and about four shirts and pairs of socks. The rest of my camping bag has a book, and various snacks.) and he thought it was a waste of time. Though when he and Ma babysat us for the weekend all they wanted to do was listen to talk radio (my hate of right wing media may have started then honestly) and ignore us. So, as a baby GenXer, I had to pretty much raise myself, and make sure my 2 year younger Millennial baby brother (mind you I'm introvert while I swear my brother can be dropped in the middle of NYC in rush hour and walk away with twenty friends in five minutes. I'm not talking acquaintances, but life long friends of varied cultures. Yeah, I might envy him a little.)

I'm distracting myself sorry.

So, on this walk, which only took us about three to five minutes to do the round trip, Matt asked the dreaded question.

"What do you plan on doing with your life?"

I was six, and he knew before break we had been asked that by our teacher, and my class's homework over the break was to write a paragraph (A whole hundred words!) on the subject. So I guess he was expecting me to answer something like taking over his business (they ran a ceramics shop in the local tourist trap) and being a loyal housewife. Or some boring shit like that, though really the ceramics would have been fun to learn... ANYWAY

What came out of my mouth was -

"I want to be a writer like Daddy, or a cop."

Matt was silent for a few moments as we walked, I thought that I had said something wrong, but Dad had always told me that I have the potential to do whatever I wanted. He never treated me any different than my little brother (for the most part. Boo got to go on the yearly fishing trips before I did. Even though I begged Dad to let me go.). Though as we neared the driveway, Matt finally spoke up.

"You'll never be good at either. Those are jobs for men"

That's exactly what he told me, I was six years old, it was Christmas of 1985, and I'm standing in the middle of a gravel street, on the packed snow in white sorel boots, a cream colored snow suit with a pink knit scarf and hat, my hands in pink and red mittens stuffed into my pockets, unsure if I wanted to run ahead of him, or sit on the street and cry.

Of course, I let him walk ahead of me, slowing down so I could compose myself. I wasn't going to let his words ruin Christmas for the family. So, yeah I stuffed it down.

So that fourth file... Is all my emotions, my thoughts, my two (thankfully) failed suicide attempts, and all the other horrible memories being used to build the spite fire that fuels that book. It is a passion project, and a Fuck you to Matt, for telling me I was worthless and causing the school to think the childhood depression I fell into, was saying I wasn't mentally ready to go onto the second grade. It's the anger I felt later in life when Matt kicked his own daughter, my Aunt K, out of his house when he was dying, because she was a lesbian, (Which is another story that I might tell later), but the two of us spent the day together while the bastard was lying dying.

Hell I lied through my words when I wrote something to be read at his funeral which ended up being on my fourteenth birthday. I wrote what they wanted to hear, and refused to go to the funeral and the wake. Even though my mother and Ma wanted me there.

Only time I will go to where his ashes are scattered, will be when I have the ashes of that book, published, and in my hand. I will make sure that I can make a pit stop in the book tour being that town, just so I can go back into the woods and scatter the ashes of the book with him, screaming at the top of my lungs "Fuck you asshole, you fueled this, and spite has made me into something!"

So yeah, that file, I want to be the best work I can actually create before I publish it. Something worthy of being a Fuck You to the man that should have encouraged me with kindness instead of encouraging me with spite and anger.

And yes, I realize I should probably go to a therapist for all my childhood trauma, but you know what, I think right now, keeping that anger, at least until the book is done, is actually helping me more than a therapist can.

[gaybitchfx]

Can you do Mikey x male reader,

Like reader always makes fun of Mikey because of his height and the way he acts, and then a few years later Mikey just fucks reader,

Top Mikey and bottom reader. Thank you 💖

A/n: Nah because I just got a that little funny feeling in my stomach when I read your request 👀 but I’ll def write that for you! Hope you enjoy!

IT’S NOT FUNNY!

Character(s): Sano Manjiro (Mikey)

Type of reader: M!Reader

Category: Smut👀✨

Warning(s): Hair pulling & praising + degradation

Edited: ❌

This may be pretty long since I write really long smut 😅

You laughed as you rested your arm on top of Mikey’s head as he had a small glare.

“What’s wrong? Don’t gotta be all mad just because you’re so tiny and such a good arm rest.” You laughed with a smirk. “I am NOT that short!” Mikey shouted as he moved your arm from his head.

“Than how tall are you exactly, Manjiro?” You asked him, a cocky smirk present on your face. “5’3 (162 cm)..” Mikey mumbled making you burst out in pure laughter. Kinda like a hyena.

“Watch, I’m going to make sure you’re never laughing at my height again.” Mikey said with a upset pout. “Mhm, sureee.” You chuckled and patted his head.

A couple years had passed and you were just doing the usual things you’d always do in life till you had gotten a random text telling you to be at xxxxx street around 9 pm and to not be late.

“The hell?” You mumbled with a raised brow. This seemed like a really bad idea going to a destination a random person had asked you to go to, but you don’t know if they might end up showing up at your house.

With a sigh you looked at the time and it was 8:44 pm so you decided to just go now since your home wasn’t that far from the place which is only a 10-13 minute walk.

You put on some outside clothes and started walking. 13 minutes later you were 3 minutes early to the place so you just stood there waiting for whoever asked you to meet them there. 5 minutes had passed by now.

“Sorry I’m late.” A familiar voice said making you turn your head. It was Mikey, but he looked so different. His hair was shorter and instead of blond it was black. “Manjiro?” You asked with wide eyes. “Mhm. Long time no see Y/n.” Mikey said with a smirk. “You’ve changed…a lot.” You said as you stared at him.

“And you haven’t changed that much. Now follow me. We have some important matters to attend to.” Mikey said as he walked inside the place you were waiting at. “Umm, okay?” You mumbled before following him inside not realizing you were walking into a love hotel.

“One bed please, we’ll be staying here for 5 hours.” Mikey asked the lady who stood behind the counter. She looked at you two and a smirk plastered onto her face.

“Of course!~” She chirped before giving Mikey the keys to the room. “Why are we getting a bed exactly and why 5 hours ?” You asked with a raised brow as you followed Mikey.

“You’ll see.” He chuckled. When you two arrived you were the first to enter the room and then he entered, but made sure to lock the door. You went over to the bed and it was really big.

“So what was the imp- mnh!~” You were cut short when your turned around to look at Mikey who had kissed you, sticking his tongue into your mouth.

His tongue explored your wet cavern finding every crevice. You gripped at his shirt not realizing you were now laying down on the bed while he was on top of you.

He parted his lips from yours leaving a string of saliva that connected you two. Your face was tinted with a reddish pink hue and your breathing was unsteady.

“You’re going to be my bitch from now on, Y/n-chin~” Mikey whispered into your ear sending chills down your spine and to your dick. Mikey kissed your cheek before slowly traveling to your neck and then your collar bone leaving little but noticeable hickeys as he trailed down.

Small whimpers came from your mouth as you watched him unbutton your shirt and continue the trail of kisses, hickeys, and bite marks. He then stopped when he got to the lower part of your stomach.

“Seeing you so turned on like this…really excites me.” Mikey said as he tapped your clothes cock, your body jolting from the sudden feeling.

“I have a question.” Mikey said as he unbuttoned your pants before pulling that down along with your underwear. The cold air on your hardened dick made you shiver. “W-What is it?” You asked with a mumble.

“Are you a virgin?” He asked making you flinch a bit. “W-Whaa? No way- ahn!~” A moan was ripped from your throat as Mikey squeezed your cock as he stroked it painfully slow.

“The truth, Y/n.” Mikey said with a demanding tone.

“F-fuck…! Y-Yes I’m a virgin! Please move your hand faster~” You whined as you gripped the silk sheets beneath you.

“Good boy.” Mikey said as he started stroking faster but kept the semi tight grip around your cock. Whimpers and moans spilled out of your mouth like a waterfall.

“ ‘m gonna…!” You whined out as your toes curled and your grip tightened before you came onto Mikey’s hand. The after shock made your body twitch here and there as your vision went in and out.

“Don’t pass out just yet, Y/n. We’re just getting started with that important matter I mentioned earlier outside.” Mikey said as he unbuckled his pants. Your eyes trailed down from his face to his cock before they widened.

“That won’t f-fit..!” You protested swallowing the saliva you had in your mouth. “With some lube it might.” Mikey said as he opened a packet that contained a right amount of lube. He spilled some on his cock and some on your hole.

“Since you like being a liar, you won’t mind me not prepping you right?” Mikey asked as he stroked his cock coating it with lube before lining it up with your hole.

You shook your head no, but Mikey just ignored that and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as tears of pain had already started forming.

“Fuck..! You’re so fucking tight..” Mikey hissed as he gripped the sheets by your head. “H-Hurts…” You sobbed as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Mikey whispered as he kissed your cheek and rubbed the tears away.

“I’m sorry for being careless about your pain tolerance.” Mikey said, it almost sounded like he said that in a loving way to you. Once your sobbing died down Mikey hadn’t moved till you gave him consent to do so. You moved your hips a bit getting his attention.

“Move?” He asked and you nodded your head slowly. A smirk appeared on his lips before he started thrusting at a slow pace.

Small moans came from your mouth from the impact of his thrust. It felt weird and kind of painful, but eventually it turned into pleasure. “Faster, please.” You mumbled. Mikey didn’t waste no time to do as you said.

He picked up the pace as those quiet moans that came from you turned into louder moans. One hand gripped at Mikey’s hair and the other was holding onto his arm.

Audible groans came from Mikey as he continued thrusting into you, his eyes not leaving yours. As he thrusted he started stroking your dick making you arch your back in pure bliss.

“N-Not there!~” You whined tears pricking the corners of your eyes due to too much stimulation at once. “Cumming…!” You moaned as strings of a white substance landed on your stomach.

Mikey didn’t stop there even though you just came, he continued ramming into your little hole causing your eyes to roll back as you pleaded with moans for him to slow down.

He clicked his tongue before he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach with your ass in the air before slamming back inside and continued with that exact pacing he had before. Your moans were muffled by the sheets, mind going hazy from the stimulation.

“Shut up and take it.” Mikey grumbled. This made your cock twitch as you’re legs shook. If it wasn’t for Mikey holding your waist up he would have surely collapsed onto the bed by now.

In a matter of seconds you came again with a loud moan, your body shaking under Mikey’s grasp. “Pathetic.” He mumbled as he moved his hips in a way which will hit your prostate.

He grabbed a handful of your hair making your upper body sit up causing your back to arch as mewls and nothing but gibberish left your mouth. Your mind had already been consumed by the pleasure Mikey was giving you.

You look a complete mess at this point. Some of your hair was sticking to your face due to sweating, your tears had mixed with your drool, and your eyes looked to the point of closing.

Mikey’s thrust were now becoming more sloppy and quicker and his groans were turning into moans.

He did one last deep thrust into you before he shot his load inside of you with a shaky moan. Mikey then slowly pulled out of you and watched your body collapse onto the bed.

He cleaned himself up before he cleaned you up and put your clothes back on along with his. He carried you on his back and left taking you back home. The next morning when you woke up you were sore, and I mean really sore.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

[perpetual-stories]

How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[ushiwakaout]

YOUR SERIES FOR THE THINGS YOU THINK HAIKYU BOYS WOULD SAY IS SO GOOD!! Do you write for Tsukishima? Cuz if yes I would really like to know what you think he would say...

thank you, thank you 🥺💖

*sigh* highkey wanting to avoid tsukishima stuff bc i don’t wanna fall deeper into a simp hole

but i guess i’ll do it 🙄 thank fucking god you asked for this bc honestly i was going a little crazy bc i fucking love him so much god fucking damnit

for my sake, y’all are married and you’re a photographer

“mmm, stop poking me.” (7:00 am)

“Hey, i said stop touching.”

“what time is it?”

“No i don’t have practice today... i have school.”

“Not until tonight, so let me sleep.”

“Come back here, i don’t need breakfast right now.”

“Hey i might be slim but i will throw you back in bed if you don’t come back.”

“Wake me up again in like an hour.”

“Mmm, i said wake me up not smother me in kisses.” (8:20 am)

“What’s for breakfast.”

“I’m in the mood for some coffee and a shortcake.”

“What do you mean that’s not breakfast.”

“You may be my spouse but you cannot deny me shortcake.”

“If you forbid shortcake then a want divorce.”

“If you made me pick, i would want a divorce, because it’s like making you pick between me or [your favorite dessert] it’s just evil.”

“I’m not gonna kiss you unless we go get shortcake....”

*motherfucker has such a fucking mood when he wakes up. ESPECIALLY WHEN HE DOESNT GET WHAT HE WANTS. he’s baby but he’s also a bitch*

“have you seen my glasses? i cant see.”

“if you don’t give them to me i’m gonna make you read the menu outloud to me like a crazy person”

“ready for go? i’m starting to get hungry.” (9:00 am)

“are you not going to hold my hand?”

“fine if you get hit by a bike or a car, it’s not my problem.”

“hey actually it will be my problem because i married you, now hold my hand or else i’ll the one pushing you.”

“i’m not an asshole.”

“i’m ordering two cakes, i’m not giving you any of you don’t order for yourself.”

*you don’t order for yourself and just kinda fiddle w his jacket*

“Can i get three strawberry shortcakes and two black coffees, one iced please.”

“Nope you’re not getting the third one.”

*proceeds to eat the two and fiddles with the third*

“Have it, i’d be a waste if you didn’t eat it.”

*if you don’t eat it he will get both physically and mentally upset*

*very much loves seeing you munch down on his favorite dessert*

“Can we go now? I need to study for a test before class.” (10:30 am)

“you’re gonna get hit by a bike, get closer.”

“I wanna get our rings cleaned, their looking a little dirty.”

“So what if it’s only been a year, you know i don’t take it off unless it’s for a match, then i wear the flimsy black one.”

*the ring he gave you was his grandmothers so he’s always fiddling with it when he holds your hand*

“I’m sitting next to you while you edit your pictures, so you can’t complain.” (11:00 am)

*very distracted when he studies because he keeps glancing at you with your tongue out a little while you edit*

*will pinch your tongue*

“It belongs in your mouth.”

*WILL BLUSH OF YOU RESPOND, “so does yours” he will malfunction and flick you’re forehead*

“can you make me a snack?”

“dino crackers will do.”

“hey, don’t make fun of me, you always eat these too. now pass me my crackers.”

“Are you gonna stay alone like a weirdo or are you gonna walk to me the station” (1:00 pm)

“Hurry up and give me a kiss before it’s your fault i miss the train.”

“If you don’t let me go i’m just gonna kiss you again.”

“Idiot let go, i’m gonna be late because of you.”

“Give me another one, you gotta reach for it tho.”

*will laugh in your face before bending down to kissing the tip of your nose*

“Don’t get yourself kidnapped on the way home.”

“What are you doing here? You brought me lunch?” (3:00 pm)

*friends starts asking him who you are*

“My spouse, now stop staring.”

*proceeds to grab your left hand with his to low key show of your rings*

“Let’s go, i’m hungry.”

“Thank you for the food... it was good, could have had less...”

*can’t figure out what to say because it was actually really good but he won’t tell you*

“Could have had less love, that’s what.”

“Stop giggling at me.”

“Hey give me back my-”

*you always take his glasses off before you kiss him, don’t know how he hasn’t caught on yet*

“That was... okay.” (4:00 pm)

“You brought me a shortcake?”

“Wow you do love me.”

“I knew a married you for a reason.”

“You want some?”

“Say ah, no i’m gonna feed you now shut up.”

“Come with me to class, they don’t mind if you’re quiet.”

*will fiddle with your hands when you sit next to him*

*holds your thigh under the desk*

“Stop taking pictures of me.”

“I want coffee again, do you wanna walk to the café?” (6:00 pm)

“I’m hungry again... What? I’m a big boy, leave me alone.”

“Hey if you can reach my hand i’ll buy you a cat.”

*puts his 6’6 wingspans arm up in the air, mind you his hand would probably be up to 6’10*

*Takes pictures of you at the cat café so he can see which one is your favorite for future reference*

“No you couldn’t reach, i’m not getting you a cat”

*fucking liar has been planing on getting u a cat for a good while*

“Just go order the stuff and we’ll head home.” (7:00 pm)

“Sit on the couch with me, we’ll watch a movie.”

*puts on the good dinosaur*

“What? Shut up, it’s a good movie”

“What, no- I’m not crying- you are.”

*flicks your nose*

“See you’re crying too”

“I’m not a bully, you’re a bully.”

“Shut up or i’ll kiss you.”

*will kiss you anyway*

*it doesn’t seem like it but he isn’t a forceful kisser, very soft, long and hot kisses are his go to.*

“I’m gonna shower again, school stressed me out.”

“Take a bath with me” (9:30 pm)

*in the bath his knees are usually always out so he can just hold you while you sit in front of him*

*becomes very soft at night especially when it’s just alone time with you*

*starts kissing your hair, will lightly tease you by massaging your neck and then slowly wrapping his fingers around your neck so he can push your chin up to look at him and he kisses you*

“i know i should say it more but i love you and i know you love me too, and i would trade that for an endless supply of shortcake.”

“See i’m not always a jerk.”

*in bed, he’s the small spoon bc he wants to listen to your heartbeat*

*needs skin to skin contact so his hands are always under your shirt (his shirt) roaming around your back*

“Stop squirming.”

*if you can’t sleep, this man will fuck you to sleep. doesn’t matter what fucking time it is, he gets annoyed and ask why you didn’t tell him sooner so he can fuck you so good*

“Go to sleep or i’ll sleep in the spare”

*lies he hates sleeping alone*

*also... records your reacton while he’s fucking you bc you’re never in front of the camera so he wants you to know how you feel*

*kisses your forehead and then falls asleep to the sound of your breathing*

[czenzo]

Misdial - Chapter I

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ Epilogue ]

summary: Lucy, a newly-enrolled fine arts student at a London university, accidentally calls the wrong number and ends up getting to know a business student who also happens to be in the same city. Slowly but surely, they realise their lives are intertwined more than they initially thought, and soon they find their friendship may be evolving into something more. Or: After a chance phone call, Lucy and Lockwood spend the next few months pining after one another.

rating: G words: 1937

note: baby's first multi-chap fic!! I've almost written all nine chapters but still have to go through and do some editing (can't wait), but I've enjoyed writing this so much that I wanted to get the first two completed and posted asap. hope you enjoy! :)

The streets of London are alive with the hustle and bustle of commuters, buskers, students, and all of the other people who manage to get in Lucy Carlyle’s way. She desperately wants to go home; after a long day of seminars, tutorials, the beginnings of a mildly stressful group project, and an irritating visit to the nearest phone shop, she craves nothing but the warmth and comfort of her bed, along with a good cuppa and a biscuit or two (or three).

She reluctantly decides to slow down, accepting that the streets aren’t going to become any less congested just because she wants to get back to her flat, and pulls out her brand-spanking-new phone from her coat pocket. It’s shiny and clean, lacking any scratches or cracks, and although she quickly set it up at the phone shop, transferring her old data onto it has to wait until she gets home. Despite this, she stabs in the digits for what she thinks is her flatmate’s number and hopes that her memory serves her well.

The phone dials once, twice, and then a soft click tells Lucy that she’s picked up.

“Holly,” she breathes, “I am having such a day. I managed to pick up a new phone after Skull lovingly smashed my old one, which is good since not having a mobile would be pretty inconvenient, right? But the rest of my day’s been shit. They’ve moved on from all the introductory lectures ’n stuff now, but instead of starting us off on our own, they’ve put us in groups. I’ve got to do a group project, Holly. I have to work with people. I’ve not even recovered from Freshers’ week yet. And everyone in my group seems so pretentious.

“If I’d read through the course syllabus I’d’ve known this was coming up, but I didn’t, I’m an idiot, and I’ve been jump-scared by this project. God, I hope this goes well. I don’t want to give all the course-runners a bad impression of me on my first project. I just— agh, I don’t know. I think I just need a cup of tea. Are you in right now? Could you pop the kettle on for me?”

There’s a stretch of silence in which Lucy double checks Holly hasn’t hung up on her, but when she puts the phone back to her ear and goes to ask if she’s alright, an unexpectedly deep voice cuts her off.

“I would put the kettle on, but I don’t know how much use it would be to you.”

“Oh. You’re not Holly.” She stops walking.

“That I am not,” a smooth, well-spoken voice says through the phone. “Misdialed number?”

“Must’ve been. I’m so sorry.”

There’s a soft laugh from the other end. “It’s alright.”

“I’ll hang up now,” she says, after a short pause.

“You don’t want to keep ranting about the group project?”

“I— hah, yeah, sure. I’ll probably make your ears bleed if I go on about it anymore.” She looks down at her feet, then up to the sky, and is thrown to find it’s getting dim already. The beginnings of autumn have shortened the daylight hours, it seems. “Actually, do you mind if I stay on the phone for a little bit? I have a short walk back through a city and it’s getting dark. Doing it alone doesn’t sound fun.”

“You don’t want to call someone else?”

“I can’t remember anyone’s numbers correctly, apparently.”

“…Ah. Okay,” the other person says, confusion evident in his voice, though he doesn’t press the matter. “Alright then, what’s your name?”

“Lucy,” she answers, taking a moment to briefly wonder why she’s hesitant to walk through a city alone but content with talking and revealing information to a complete stranger on the phone. She shrugs the thought off; Lucy Carlyle has never been one for logical decision-making. She once rescued an injured, feral, aggressive black cat from an alley and nursed it to health, and now she’ll complete the short walk home while making odd small talk with a stranger. “You?”

“Lockwood.”

“Lockwood?”

“It’s my surname. Most people use it to refer to me.”

He really is well-spoken. Self-consciousness over her northern speech habits starts to rise in her, just like it did when she first met Holly after replying to her ad looking for a flatmate. Immediately, she squashes it down. 

“So, you’re in a city?”

“London,” she says, reasoning that the city’s so vast there’s no harm in telling him.

“Oh.” Lockwood pauses. “I’m in London, too.”

“Funny coincidence.” She presses the button at a pelican crossing and waits, knowing it’d be stupid to try and cross on a red man during rush hour.

“It is.”

“For my group project,” Lucy says, filling the silence that threatens to descend on them while taking a moment to admire the colours of the beginnings of the sunset peeping through the lovely smog of the city, “we’ve got to create a collection of art pieces that correspond to a topic of our choosing. To get us used to using the studio… and for us to get to know each other, I suppose.”

“You’re an art student?”

Shit, she thinks, she should probably be more careful about how much information she drops. She only knows the guy’s surname, yet she’s minutes away from telling him her whole life story. 

The red man turns to green, and home is now just minutes away.

“I am, yeah. Are you a student?”

“Technically.”

“Technically?”

“I’m enrolled as a student,” Lockwood sighs, “but I lack the student mentality. I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop instead of a lecture.”

Lucy lets out a snort of laughter. “Bit of a rebel, are you?”

“Not really. Management Science”—he drawls the two words, and Lucy can immediately tell he’s not particularly fond of them—“just doesn’t interest me too much.”

“Management Science… Not to be rude, Lockwood, but that honestly sounds god-awful.”

“Oh, no, you’re spot on. It is.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what else to do. Going into a full-time job sounds like hell, and I’d already taken a gap year. A management course is solid enough to keep nosey people off my back, but vague enough so that I’m not trying to squeeze myself into a specific path, if that makes sense?”

“I get that,” Lucy finds herself nodding; the pressure of having to decide her future at such a young age isn’t unfamiliar to her, and the only reason she’d dared to take a leap and move to London for art school in the first place was that it finally gave her an excuse to move out of her suffocating childhood home.

“Who is Skull?” Lockwood then says, abruptly swerving the topic of conversation and startling Lucy so much that she has to rack her brain to work out why he’s asking.

“Oh,” she says after a moment, “he’s my cat. Cheeky little bastard knocked my phone off the kitchen counter and smashed it to bits.”

Lockwood laughs again, and Lucy is irritated to find that she enjoys hearing it. 

“Why that name?”

“He has white splotches on his face, and I used my incredible artistic brain to interpret it as a skull.”

There’s that laugh again. Lucy’s face burns as she enters her block of flats and hauls herself up the first flight of stairs.

“Skull keeps you on your toes, then?”

“He sure does. He knows what he’s doing, I’m dead sure of it. He lives to cause chaos and disruption, and—”

“Ah, I’m so sorry Lucy, my sister’s calling. I should take that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She pulls her phone down to glance at the time stamp on the screen and finds the call’s lasted much longer than she intended. “I started rambling again, sorry. I don’t want to keep you.”

“No, no, it’s alright. This was much more interesting than a lecture or listening to coffee shop music.”

“Glad to hear I’m a good source of entertainment.”

“I really do have to take this call. Take care, Lucy.”

“You too.”

Click.

Lucy finds herself standing on the second-floor landing, staring into space, with a strange empty feeling inside of her. She looks down at her phone, seeing the one, lone phone number in her recent calls. It must be one or two digits off of Holly’s, she thinks. It looks too familiar.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?” a snooty voice says in front of her. It’s nothing like Lockwood’s voice—where his is smooth, calm, and comforting, Quill Kipps’ is harsh, uppity, and pretentious.

“None of your business,” she looks up at him, where he’s stood locking the door to his flat. The jangling of his keys is muffled as he shoves them in the pocket of his expensive-looking plaid coat.

“No, it’s not, but I’m so thoroughly invested in the life of my neighbour Susie Carlyle that I must know anyway.”

“It’s Lucy.”

“Same thing.”

“If you must know,” she says, beginning her ascent up the next flight of stairs, “I mistyped Holly’s number and called a posh-sounding guy instead. Probably goes to your pretentious uni.” Inwardly, she apologises to Lockwood for grouping him in with Kipps, then scolds herself for doing it. Lockwood doesn’t care, he barely knows her. She doesn’t care either, of course, she has many more important things to be focusing her attention on.

“Good to know. Have a lovely evening, Susie.”

With a swish of his coat and a flick of a scarf, Kipps descends the stairs and is gone.

*

“I’ve missed you too, you little idiot,” Lucy stoops down to scratch Skull under the chin after closing the door behind her, though he quickly turns and feigns disinterest, clearly wanting to avoid showing her too much affection.

“Lucy, you’re back!” Holly Munro calls from the kitchen. Lucy gets a whiff of whatever she’s cooking—she doesn’t know what it is, but it smells… healthy—and pointedly avoids breathing through her nose for a while.

“I am,” she calls back, dumping her bag onto the settee and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. “What does your phone number end in?”

“An eight,” Holly says, sprinkling seasoning onto her food in a swift, well-practised manner. Lucy wonders if she has any instant noodles left in the cupboard.

“Ah. Did you know there’s a guy who has the same number as yours but with a nine at the end? And he also lives in London?”

“I… did not know that, no. I’m assuming you discovered that today?”

“I did. He seems like a decent guy, actually.”

Holly stops moving, and her eyes snap up to meet Lucy’s.

“Lucy Carlyle, are you telling me you spoke to a man and enjoyed it?”

“‘Enjoyed’  is a stretch,” Lucy avoids eye contact; the sticky notes on their fridge suddenly look very interesting, “but it wasn’t awful.”

“You’re sure he isn’t some fifty-year-old creep, though, right?”

“If he is, he’s insanely skilled at making his voice sound young. He speaks like you, though.”

“Like me?”

“The accent,” she vaguely waves a hand in circles in front of her, trying to remember the term. “The dead posh one.”

“RP?”

“Yeah, that’s it. RP.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Holly frowns.

“It’s not when it’s you.” She pauses. “Or Lockwood.”

The squeal that comes from Holly’s mouth is almost superhuman, and Skull, who had been grazing from his bowl of food nearby, quickly scarpers out of the kitchen in shock.

“Lucy Joan Carlyle, tell me everything.”

*

end note: for anyone not used to British uni terms, Freshers' week is the week before courses start at a university, where all the new first years are given many opportunities to mingle with their fellow students and, to put it simply, get shitfaced. I imagine Lucy didn't make that many friends over that week, but definitely took advantage of all the alcohol on offer.