#I wrote more words for this than for school writing assignments lmao

[creatingblackcharacters]

“That One Hairstyle? RETIRE IT!” Black Hair is an Art (pt.1)

(This is part one of two lessons, with this one focusing on how our hair itself! The next lesson will encompass how to incorporate its existence into your writing. It'd be a massively long post otherwise.)

So! Black hair. Black hair is a CENTRAL, ESSENTIAL part of our culture and identity. Writing and drawing it means understanding the vulnerability and trust that comes with access to it, and yes, it is racist to suggest that ‘it’s just hair’ when our hair serves such an important role in our history and art. I already wrote a mini-lesson and ask on the topic, but being aware of what our hair looks like, and what means to us, will help you to understand why we care that you put in the effort to get it right.

Hair Textures

We are not a genetic monolith! However, for the sake of this series, we are focusing on 3C-4C, because 1) it's most likely to be seen in life and 2) least likely to be seen in popular art! When you are creating your characters, consider the style and care for THESE textures. I will get more into this next lesson.

Let's get into SOME of the hairstyles!

Afros (36 Afro Hairstyles)

“So, what’s the phenomenon behind the Afro? Well, it’s our hair in its most natural form, but that’s only part of the phenomenon. It’s a way to fight the status quo without saying a word.”

-Ebony Magazine, The History of the Afro

When nonBlack society hears ‘afro’, they think completely picked out, Black power imagery, political statement. And it was, and is! But in actuality, afros are just the natural hair growing out of a Black person's head. The same way your hair grows out of your head. Our texture. Even my hair is not allowed to be ‘hair’, it has to ‘assign’ my Blackness; my distance from whiteness. Imagine, the hair growing out of your head being automatically associated with how you should be perceived. Just by existing, it is making a statement in a Eurocentric society.

Braids (31 Braid Styles)

There are SO MANY TYPES of braids and ways to wear them. If you can imagine a design, I bet there's a Black braider that can do it!

CORNROWS ARE NOT AUTOMATICALLY BRAIDS! Internalize this! They may be used in the same style, but they are NOT INTERCHANGEABLE TERMS!

Braids are considered a protective style; that is, a hairstyle designed to let our hair 'rest' and grow without having to manipulate it. If you have a Black character that's constantly on the go and/or doesn't have time to focus on their hair, and you want an accurate, more true-to-life experience for them, braids can be a crucial part of character design.

Locs

(Yes, while that link has plenty of examples, it was also self-indulgent. Locs are gorgeous, Black men with locs are gorgeous!)

"Locs vs Dreads": As someone in the loc community, there’s been a push to refer to the style as ‘locs’, rather than ‘dreadlocks’. Some people with the style will not care, but others take it very seriously, so it’s something to keep in mind. There’s a societal stigma behind having locs, that they’re ‘dirty’ or ‘unkempt’ or ‘lazy’ and that is NOT true. Locs are beautiful, and they take far more effort than people seem to want to believe lmao.

Locs, though there is currently a positive revival, are still highly discriminated against. Kids have been expelled from school and even have had their hair forcibly cut off to be allowed to participate in sports. Many places won't hire you if they think your hair is 'unprofessional' or 'dirty', especially if you're a Black woman. To consider yet another example of the hair that grows out of my head 'dirty' is extremely racist.

LOCS ARE NOT BRAIDS!!!!

Locs are also a protective style, albeit a much more permanent one, and one that comes with a long history and culture behind it. Many Black people consider the biblical story of Samson to be a man with locs, and that our locs hold power within them. That not just anyone should be allowed to touch your locs. So, if you're interested in mythology and powers, that might be an intriguing way to go, that would be possible if you had a Black character with locs!

In Professional Media

The lack of awareness and concern about our hair isn't just a fan or amateur creator experience. It is ubiquitous in the professional media world. Black actors, actresses, and models have discussed having to do their own hair when working, because no one would properly care for it on set if it wasn't familiarly white. It’s admittedly grown better- however! After decades of not having options other than ‘stereotypical afro’, ‘box cut’, and ‘white people hair’, it is LONG PAST TIME to stop settling for the bare minimum in Black character design. We can tell when "one of us" (with some sense, at least) wasn't in the room to make decisions in popular media.

If you were curious about the lesson title, here's a current example of what I'm talking about in video games. Tell me if you see a pattern:

This style? The Killmonger? We seent it!!!! It has become the “hairstyle to show I understand the exaggerated swagger of a young Black teen” option, the "I know the Black people!" go-to, and frankly, we are all tired of it. Okay it was cute on Ekko. The Black Delegation DEMANDS the professional video game industry pick something else! We have SO MANY DIFFERENT HAIRSTYLES!

I'll give you an example on the other end (not trying at all; refer to Lesson 1) from one of my favorite games, Hades:

This is my blorbo. My favoritest guy. I’ll fight for Patroclus being Black til the day I die. While I begrudgingly settled in my excitement, I can tell you no one Black with any voting power was in the room at Supergiant when they approved this design. Why? His texture! Locs were such an easy option if they wanted long hair! Locs existed BEFORE Ancient Greece! The man did not have a flat iron while fighting in a war! A good Black designer would have considered that!

To give him a more accurate design, some artists (myself included) lean into giving him locs (one of my favorites is @karshmallow 's Pat; a phenomenal example in caring about your Black characters). It’s something Black fans find themselves doing- redesigning Black characters. That's not something we should have to do at all, especially in media we pay for!

But if you REALLY want your Black character to have straight hair, that leads into the last style of this lesson:

Straight Hair

We do have straight hair. But it’s not straight because it grew out that way! It will still look and be thicker! It might be a wig or a sew-in (human or synthetic), it might be flat-ironed (while relaxed? While natural?) It takes effort to get and maintain straight hair.

'I think it looks better good this way!'

If you catch yourself thinking this, this is a racist statement. Whether you’re aware of it our not, there is a bias towards Eurocentric/white features in our society, and that includes in our media. When you think “I only drew [this Eurocentric hair texture and style] because I think it looks good on them!” I want you to PAUSE and think about the WHY. WHY do you think that this Black person’s natural features are unattractive in comparison to the white hair texture you gave them? And how hurt might a Black peer of yours would feel hearing that you find their natural features not worth drawing because they’re “not attractive”. It requires approaching your own internal biases, recognizing them, and then working to unlearn them. And that means practice! Using references to draw our hair and styles, and growing used to using OUR features on US!

Doing it in Art

Me personally, I think if you think drawing thinner hair textures is easy, thicker hair textures should be a BREEZE. I was curious, so I challenged myself and-

(it took me about thirteen minutes total to do ol boy's hair and it's still not right. I'm sick fr y'all don't even know 🤢)

@ackee has a really good art lesson on the how-tos of drawing Black hairstyles. I highly recommend checking it out, as well as following and supporting a fellow Black artist (who is far better than I!)

Hair Brushes

Finally, an option you can use for painting is downloading Black hair brushes! Vegalia has an amazing array of brushes with different types of curls, locs, and braids at her Etsy store! You can also follow her on social media to see how she applies them, and support yet another amazing Black creative!

I know this was a long one, but you made it! Just keep going. Remember, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[pawseds]

I convinced our Delta Green game master to have a play-by-post (basically text roleplay) section in our game's server and uhhhhh maybe I've been having too much fun with it. Writing is faster than drawing comics, what can I say?

(Long ramble about writing stories below hehe oops)

While we're here! A bit about writing: I like writing! I've written for loger than I've drawn for (because school). I think I'm better at writing than drawing for that reason (I'm more confident at least). I've written short stories. I've written short stories about TTRPG things. I've also written a ~100k word novel by hand for 2 years. While writing it, I had 'writing class' (technically AS/A level Ennglish Language classes). It was the only class I had confidence in and high expectations for.

With those 2 combined, I burnt out pretty quick LOL. Specifically, I had a big perfectionism issue because of the high expectations I had from my teacher and especially myself -- it was the one thing I knew excelled at in school, so I better do it well! After I was done with the novel and A levels, I was supposed to edit the novel. It's been years and I haven't done it yet, and I wouldn't write non-assignment stories (except 2) until now. Writing became more nerverwracking than it was fun, so why would I?

To get back to the PBP thing: I've been in a campaign that was fully PBP. With my mindset being the way it is, hey! This is just one big writing exercise, so I ran along with that and had fun with it. I saw how some players would make their own PBP and essentially monologue/have a scene only with their PC. That was cool to see.

And now, my current Delta Green campaign (tagged 'Helvetia'). Hrothgar (guy in drawing) and his kids were ported over from a previous D&D campaign (the fully PBP one!), so the crew had a very well defined background already. Of course I get tons of drawing ideas for them, except I don't have the time to draw them all (compsci hard). But since the server has a PBP section, I had like 2 weeks to kill between session 0 and 1, and I was bursting with ideas... I made a lot of solo PBPs that were essentially short stories.

It didn't quite hit me until some time ago, but the PBPs actually made me enjoy writing again -- enjoy it a lot more, in fact! I think the format of Discord threads and messages removed most perfectionism tendencies I had. I just had to fire the story away, message by message. It didn't have to be amazing, and it was fun! (Also I really don't know how to shut up with them LOL)

I'll definitely be cleaning these PBPs up and posting them here as stories. Some of them are just silly, fun, slice-of-life character sketches. (These were the stories I wrote after my novel... and yes, they were about my other set of Delta Green characters LMAO) (and I've posted them here under pawsedswrite btw!) But some I see as legitamite short stories that I would edit more heavily and present as a short story. They were the kinds I could see myself writing on a document rather than on Discord.

Well, I lied. 'I would edit' is false. I have already edited one, because I spent like 5-6h writing this one PBP (oops) instead of writing the draft for my short story class/elective (oops 2). I joked to my two friends saying that I could just submit it as my assignment. Apparently, they both really liked it and said the dialogued slapped. So I did!

I procrastinated like hell on it though, because I was very nervous to go back into the PBP with an axe to edit it. Being in a writing class where nearly everyone else has been formally studying writing for some years kinda puts some pressure on ya!

Like the last assignment (which I'll post here after editing), I had a lot of worries. But the feedback and grade I got from my last assignment, the peer review I got from the current one, and also the support from those two friends (shoutout @katastrofish <3) made me feel more confident in myself. And also the fact that I had a lot of fun editing the PBP!

Uhhh this ramble was way longer than expected LMFAO if you've made it this far, damn, thanks for reading! If you also write or have similar experiences, feel free to share em. And have a good day!

(bonus POV editing)

[geddy-leesbian]

20 questions for fic authors

tagged by @courtofparrots

1. How many works do you have?

20

2. What is your Ao3 word count?

122,736

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Resident Evil rn, but I've written for Starcraft, MTG, Fire Emblem, pokemon, and X-Men. (Some of them aren't things I've bothered putting on ao3, and I know I had one X-Men fic on AO3 at one point but I deleted for reasons I can't remember tbh.)

(Also for the rest of these questions I'm just going to focus on my RE fics since my others are all ancient)

4. What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

1. How Do You Talk To Girls?

2. oh my god, it's my life, what am I doing kicking at the foundation?

3. Something A Little More Plain

4. Digital Man//Open Secrets

5. The Analog Kid

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to, but I'm not always great at it. I 100% do read and appreciate all of them, brain machine is just bad at responding

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

a long-awaited treasure at the end of my cruel fate

(Obviously)

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

well it's not posted, but the series that starts with sum of my confession will have the happiest ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet (I would welcome it tho because spite motivates me. I came up with my entire "Luis was groomed by Umbrella and went to a special Umbrella boarding school" headcanon because someone said the timeline for Luis is LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE and THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY he could believably be 28 in RE4 and I was mad and wiki deep dived for other RE child prodigal and found out they had a whole ass sketchy boarding school for child prodigies they poached)

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

I try, but I always feel so cringe about it and don't post it so ://

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Not seriously

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

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

back when I was in middle school on quotev lmao

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

For "all-time" I'm going to have to be niche and say Valerian Mengsk/Matt Horner because I have shipped those two the longest/most consistently out of everything I've ever shipped

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh god so many. mostly the second chapter of my "first" (technically it was my second and another was first but I deleted it for Reasons) Serrennedy fic. The draft just got too messy and there's so much that I've just given up on it

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd say dialogue!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything except dialogue lmao, but especially action

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm not brave enough to

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I was literally writing pokemon fanfic in first grade. any time we had a creative writing assignment where it was possible I would write a pokemon story.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh god that's a tough one. Generally whatever I'm working on the most is my favorite, so I'd say Is Any Killer Worth More Than His Crime? but that feels like a cop out so,,,, Digital Man is really high up there, but I feel like the fact the fic that comes before it in the series (New World Man) is 100% my least favorite and my worst fic drags Digital Man down by association. So I think the number one spot should go to oh my god… instead.

as usual anyone who wants to do it can say I tagged them :3

[babydarkstar]

You write? :3

yes i do 😳 above everything else i consider myself a writer. it’s a fundamental part of me—words are what i’m good at, and like an illustrator can create wonderful worlds with lines and color, i strive to do the same with words.

i can remember before i even learned to read i was 4 years old and had stories i wanted to tell. i was 12-14 and i blackened journals with poetry and prose, things i would look back on now and think ‘omg cringe’ but in the moment that was my flow and i’ll never judge myself for that. any sort of creative writing project in school was a guaranteed 100 for me, because i took on the assignment like it was my mission from god. when i was 14/15 my best friend was always the one i would send any original writing/stories to bc she would always hype me up and help me talk through my ideas. i owe a lot of my perseverance to her, because she gave me the encouragement i needed to keep pushing myself to get better and better. i have original characters and stories that i started/worked on when i was 14-18, as well as a lot of stream of consciousness poetry and a few other abstract ocs that i wrote when i was 18-20 and going thru crazy shit w friends and almost-never-quite-lovers. i started this blog when i was 16 and mainly used it as a fandom blog to write star wars fanfiction, and i wouldnt say i established any sort of foothold as a fan content creator, but i published a lot of stuff here and on ao3, ao3 who is my wife and my beloved angel forever and ever til (hopefully only my) death do us part. long live, amen. my inspiration to write ebbs and flows so i don’t push it when it isn’t working for me. for like a year i created content for pedro pascal’s cinematic universe of characters™ when i got super into the mandalorian, but then my interest for it faded. i also started doing drugs again which always hinders my writing and that’s actually a huge reason why i’m sober now, and a huge motivation to stay sober. then i somehow went through an mlp phase like an insane person, and im still working on a collaborative project for rarijack (bless) w an artist who i met via that fandom. the lesbian/sapphic/wlw content creators in mlp fandom on tumblr are actually epic tho they are few and far between. quite a few hidden gems, but v hidden bc there are so many creators and not everyone gets the attention they deserve. mlp didn’t spark my desire to create fan content/fic quite like the locked tomb tho, which is my current obsession and also permanently altered my brain chemistry like nothing i’ve ever read before and oh my god in like 3ish months ive literally written probably upwards of 80k words of a modern/college au that i’m still working the kinks out of. and it is. mostly smut because i saw these lesbians and i was like yall deserve to kiss and have narsty (meaningful) dyke sex and also hold each other for 17hours straight and not have to deal with so much shit. but then again i also am putting them through their own trials and tribulations in the au. so. yknow. some characters beg to be traumatized. it’s a character study, among other things. lmao. but yeah i havent posted anything for tlt yet bc one im just a little bit scared of the fandom on here and also ive set myself with this goal that i want to FINISH a story and publish it bc i always end up posting my stuff without finishing and when i read fic i like it to have a promise of an ending, so i also want to emulate that as a writer, even just on a personal level of wanting to say i’m capable of starting and finishing something meaningful like that. i also havent ever posted original work/poetry (maybe some poetry i cant remember) bc it’s. idk more near and dear to me than fanfiction, and i consider everything i write very near and dear, so i guard the og stuff w my life lmao.

damn. sorry for the life story but. it really is just a fundamental part of who i am. i’m in the process of becoming a kindergarten teacher and one thing i’ve always wanted to do was to learn how to create stories that are relevant for my students. i’ve also always wanted to create a children’s book; one of my lovely coworkers has a degree in studio art and she’s dreamt of being an illustrator for a children’s book, so i’ve been seriously considering doing that with her at some point in the future, once my life is more settled and i’m able to focus on it and give it the attention it needs <3 thanks for your curiosity hehehe

[conivolos]

pokes head in here. hello coni. pls throw your fics at me i want to read them. what are you most proud of. what are u working on right now. what do you want me to read. i want it all hand it over. (i am being genuine but also silly sjdfklsdj what are u writing i am so curious :eyes:)

adsjaksf hiya!!! :D

and yeah!! i do have a couple of wips i want to rant about kajfhkjah

the first ima shout about (it also might be my favorite but shhh) is a 3rd life renaissance faire au :D its currently treebark and dogwarts centric and is quite literally full of half formed sentences and contextless dialogue, but theres three pages of worldbuilding and plot and im really happy with it so far :D, rens the king of dogwarts (the kingdom the faires set in), and the dogwarts army are, well, the knights of dogwarts. and you know martyn's creeper prank? he makes goose noises instead cause its hilarious and it still scares the crap out of everyone but scott asjkjafh. and ima stop there i dont want to reveal any more cause spoilers askjfhas

another wip is post-canon joel's empires s2 finale!! he is regretting a lot of things and theres three more joels than usual. its likely going to be multichap and full of angst (if i can actually make angst without adding puns into it asjksajfh) with a happy (?) ending :D

a third im hyped about is a waterpark au of sorts, based off of ethos old turf war minigame, The RipZone!! its mostly mycelium resistance centric, purely because i have more of a grasp on writing them than the hep. im not quite sure where to plots going for this one, but i have just enough planned out to be insane about it askdjfaskjfh. theyre highschool ago and its set in australia, at the end of the year, so its the beginning of summer and schools just let out (prime waterpark time babayyy)

and the last is another limited life coral kids fic woooo!! the working title is 'whats your favorite constellation?' and i feel it captures the vibes im going for surprisingly well. its barely written and im hoping it wont be as long as the last lmao, im thinking only about 1k words, and it also wont be explicitly romantic. im playing off of the concept of giving each winner being assigned / associated with a symbol (sun, stars, moon, etc.), and the general fandom confusion on what to give to martyn. and wait i wrote a lil synopsis thing for this like two days ago hold on

'centred on scott and martyn, ties tower has just (or is being) constructed, scott's built them a base, the chaos of bread bridge hasnt quite begun. and, while laying on their beds under the sky, scott talks about the stars above them, lamenting about a past life. martyn and scott discuss the dilemma that is the death games. scott doesnt want to win again and they wonder if martyn's going to win this time. martyns not sure if he wants to (he does). they mostly talk about the stars though, and their favourite constellation. its supposed to be nice and calm, fairly reminiscent of the calm before a storm.'

i edited it a bit, but i reckon its still got the vibes down pretty good :D

oh and also, the fics im probably most proud so far are htgth, really the podcast au in general, and surface of the seas :D

i chose htgth / the podcast au quite a few reasons! theyre the first works i ever finished and published, and, excuse my ego /hj, but, im so happy with the way i got the bad boy's voices to fit really well!! i was (and still am honestly) shocked on how well i wrote them!! (also i really like htgth cause i set myself up some plot points im excited to build up on whenever i get back to writing it akhkfasjhf)

and surface of the seas, partly bc im just really proud of myself for writing that much ksfksajdfh. i think i mostly like it cause the little narrative comparisons and bits of lore just scattered around it :D also when i was almost finished, tying up the loose ends n stuff, it was at around 3-4k and the word count just kept going up its funny now but it was quite daunting when it was happening askfjhahfs.

oh and also maybe ive lost a piece of me, almost purely because of the puns :D

[gopuckurself]

where i’ve been + the future of dtcfdp

july 22nd 2022

hello friends. welcome back to chaos.

cw: medical issues (brain-related injury and long covid)

let’s start with 2020. everyone was burnt out by the end of 2020, but considering the amount of fic i wrote as well as the fact that I created an entire creative writing portfolio from scratch that year, i sorta crashed twice as hard as was necessary.

2021 was consumed with my first year of my masters program. i got a job! i had to quit that job because school was more important to me and i was falling behind. i started a lot of projects that i wasn’t able to keep up with. it got to the point where i couldn’t even find time to write for school assignments, let alone for fun, let alone for fanfiction.

so that brings us to 2022 (hell year: this time it’s personal). i got covid. i threw out my thesis that i’d been working on for a year the same week. a few weeks later, i passed out and hit my head

two weeks later i fell and hit my head a second time. i spent the night in the hospital. i’ve got long covid, they think that’s what’s making me pass out. i’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with the whole passing-out-thing but i’m doing better. (mostly)

i still can’t read or write the same way i could before i fell. it’s slower going. I type and say the wrong words sometimes. most of my writing is done with dictation and considering the content of my fanfic...yeah, dictating that’s a little weird lmao, especially with thin walls and roommates. 

so that brings me to dtcfdp: most of it was written in 2020. i’ve been adding bits and pieces here and there for the past two years, but honestly, most of it’s done. i want to get it out there—there are two chapters left, and then an epilogue. the epilogue is the only thing that remains completely unwritten. chapter 8′s done, in fact, but it ends on such a painful cliffhanger (worse than chapter 7′s cliffhanger, trust me) that i don’t want to post chapter 8 without chapter 9. (because I know how frustrating it is to wait...and y’all have been waiting so long.)

the story will be complete enough once I finish chapter 9. the epilogue’s just fun stuff. i’m hoping you’ll see it soon, but like i said, it’s slower going than before i fell and i’m running out of summer break. 

thanks for listening to this ramble. thanks for reaching out to me over the past few years, even when i wasn’t answering. it’s been a rough time.

but here’s to (pretty girls who went to our heads) better days ahead. here’s to making it through these years. here’s to more chaos.

love you.

[tasteleeknow]

is there a fic or something you’ve written that YOU believe is your best work yet like the best piece you feel like you’ve ever written but it didn’t get as much attention as you anticipated? and is there a post that you didn’t try as much on but the amount of attention it got still shocks you ?? 😅😅

I don’t write fics but I know I get sooo mad when in school i have to write papers & the papers I don’t try very hard on & write in a few hours do WAYY better than the papers I take hours or even days writing 🙄🙄🙄. Just recently I got an A+ on my final report that I did an hour before it was due while another paper that I wrote for a different class & actually tried on (spent DAYYSSSS writing) I received a D- 😭.

Sorry for the little rant but I’m genuinely curious LOL

the amount of work and time i put into writing has ZERO impact on how 'well' it does lmao for sure. hello stranger is my first series and i have a document of thousands of words with tables all full of character building and planning and it's... so much work. the chapters get like 500 notes maybe compared to one shots which usually get between 1 to 4k. i don't actually mind though bc i get way more feedback on the series. like ppl put essays in their reblogs and send me messages and all that. i care more about that than the notes, especially because the majority of notes are likes.

i actually tend to find the things that don't get flooded with likes have more ppl who will message me personally and be really passionate about it. i wrote a fairy!au that didn't do as well as most of my other minho one shots but i had ppl making moodboards for it and edits and all of that. which again, i appreciate more than likes.

koala still has the most notes and its one of the first things i wrote so i KNOW the quality of the writing is worse. also when i posted it i was convinced ppl would hate it like i was ready to hit delete. after that did so well i've just been like no fear tbh like how i feel about something seems to say nothing abt how others will feel. i just post and vibe.

i really don't think there has been anything i've posted where i was disappointed in the amount of attention it got. maybe aftercare with minho ?? it's a drabble but it had a label put on it literally 2 minutes after i posted it so it got very little exposure. i really am just grateful in general like my writing gets a lot more eyes on it than i ever would have expected so i really feel like i have nothing to complain about. i do just wish more of the eyes were... active rather than ya know silent/passive.

lmao in school i literally did everything at the very last second. i had a very severe undiagnosed case of adhd and was really just coasting the entire time. i remember having to convince teachers id hand something in and then just keep stalling until they actually just gave up or forgot about it. then there was like ONE TIME for some reason i really clicked with the content, it was a maths assignment and it was satisfying to my brain, so i spent a week on it and ended up helping a bunch of my class with it at the public library on the weekend and i got the highest mark possible and then never did it again. no lessons learned just 'well thats nice moving on'. but in uni when i was forced to actually do the work the assignments where i started earlier and tried harder did meh and the ones i didn't at all did well. so yeah, i get it. D- on something you'd worked so hard on..... i'd lose it hfjdsk i remember once handing something in that i'd worked harder on than anything else in my entire uni life and i barely passed and i was like yeah never trying again. and i didn't. and everything was fine. what's the lesson?? idk trying is overrated just vibe gfhdjs

sorry for MY rant hjds

[meruli]

Soulmate: Review/Analysis

ココロノトモ (Soulmate) is a song introduced in episode 14 of the TV drama adaption of the arcade rhythm game Aikatsu Planet!. In the show, it was introduced as an “original song”, and was written by the original characters who sang it, Mao Otoha and Shiori Motoya.

On a side note, the song being introduced as an original song is interesting, as it implies that all the other songs existed beforehand, and might be public songs that people rent for performances. Those other songs might even be mass produced and then delivered to Aikatsu Planet, which would explain why none of them seem to be specifically made for certain characters.

The song itself is the first country song in the Aikatsu! franchise, it is a relaxing song about the relationship of two best friends. It starts with nice acoustic parts, but the tune for the rest of the song sounds weird, for lack of a better word. While the chorus does make me feel like I’m sitting in a slowly moving retro bus, it also feels like it’s all building up for something big that never came, so as a result, the amount of trapped energy just keeps rising with no way to be released. This keeps on until the vocals are over.

The stage used for the song was recycled from Magical Door, another song. It is the ruins of an abandoned cathedral that’s now overflowing with greenery. The background has a light orange color, the cathedral is on a hexagonal pedestal, inside what looks like another, bigger cathedral, or an abandoned metropolis that no longer has any human inhabitants. The seats for the audience are made of the same material as the decaying cathedral, and there’s a staircase going down, leading to nothing but empty air. It feels very nostalgic overall, which fits the acoustic parts of the song. Combined with the visuals, the song makes me feel like I’m smelling dried mint alone in an abandoned garden of a gothic manor that has become lost to time and civilization.

In the end, Soulmate isn’t the greatest song. While the visuals do leave little to be desired, the song itself is lackluster in the way that you’re expecting for something to explode, but it just ends up bubbling for a long while and then goes down. While I do applaud the franchise for trying a new song type, it could’ve been better executed.

[kemakoshume]

「𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤」 (bokuto x f!reader)᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘᠃ a/n; i wrote this to procrastinate from writing my other chaptered fics :'D i get overwhelmed with how much i wanna add to ch fics so i needed a crack fic break. enjoy! xox // network tag(s): @anime-central <3 @hanayanetwork <3 @hqintheclub warnings; actually more suggestive than nsfw i guess but minors DNI anyway. crack, frats/sororities, mentions of sex but no like big sex scene (imma be honest with y'all... i rly didn't feel like writing one just for the sake of having it in here lmao sry), choking... gone wrong (but no one dies). time skip spoilers (names of new members and teams and stuff) — sakuatsu & kagehina are in this [3.4k words] ~

There were originally three rules in the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity house:

Uphold the fraternity standards & bylaws* and hold your brothers accountable to these standards.

Honor the assigned quiet hours, chore wheels, & don’t enter people’s private spaces without asking. In summary: keep your shit clean and don’t be a dick.

A. School — stay at least part-time in your credit hours, keep up with whatever PhysEd major you’re taking, and keep your GPA above a 3.0; if you need any help studying please for the love of god speak up. B. Sports — Stay active in a team partnered with the Fédération Internationale de Volleyball (obviously MSBY—if you made it this year—go Jackals), or an accredited team in your sport of choice.

*Except for the bylaws about drinking. Fuck that noise. We’re all adults & we’re getting smashed.

Then, due to some extraneous circumstances, the executives had to add two more:

*** Per our landlord (yes she included the bold and all caps): “KEEP THE FUCKING TO A MINIMUM.” Apparently, our lovely Sigma Chi neighbors can hear us & we’re disrupting their quiet hours, so make it hard for us to know that you’re doing it if you’re doing it. Also, not a house rule just a moral reminder: consent is key gentlemen.

Please refrain from breaking the beds and/or bed frames (or shower doors, Atsumu). They’re expensive.

*Partners are still allowed, just be quieter if you can help it.

You and your boyfriend have some issues navigating the new additions.

Bokuto has been a member of Sigma Phi for about a year now. He’s been your boyfriend for about six months. Six long months that proceeded three months of “courting,” as your sorority house mom and your sorority president, Alisa, had put it—all of which culminated in lots and lots of raucous, euphoric, occasionally ethically questionable, noise-complaint inducing sex.

It was officially time for you, amongst some others, to pay the piper for that.

“Alright guys, thank you all for coming down. I asked both you and your partners here today to go over some changes to the house rules; since some of them also involve you ladies, and gentlemen—hello Kageyama, congrats on your team’s win last Friday—it seems right to have you all here for this at once. Plus, you’re normally here anyway so why not.” Meian walks to the side of the couch, changing the slide on the projector screen illuminating the blank white wall of the living room to the ‘Da Rules’ section.

“So, as you can see, we have two new rules on top of the old ones. Read them yourself—let me know if there are any questions after you do.”

You looked up at the screen, scanning your eyes over the words on the slide carefully to make sure you understood exactly what the fraternity president was saying via the changes. Bokuto sat next to you, his fingers slotted into yours. All of the other members of his fraternity, both single and non, gathered around you scrambled and laid across the living room furniture. Those that weren’t single had their partners cozied up to their sides as well, looking much like you and your own boyfriend did.

A few faces around you furrowed, including yours and Bokuto’s, as everyone finished reading the slide in full.

“Wait… so we can’t have sex here anymore?” Atsumu speaks up, cuddled underneath Sakusa’s arm. “I thought that was only a stupid rule for the sorority houses, just like that sexist “no booze for them but it’s okay for us” bullshit. When did this happen?”

His question is followed by a wave of voices all filling the space asking similar questions. With the better part of forty-odd people in the room, it’s almost deafening for a moment. “Oh my god, shut up,” Meian says, his temperate voice loud even without needing to yell. He began rubbing roughly at his temples. “Did none of you read the asterisk for the sex part? It literally says right here that ‘Partners are still allowed, just be quieter if you can help it.’ Okay?” the leader says, looking around the room for objections. All he sees is the dejected look of newly minted adults back.

You look up at Bokuto, batting your lashes softly in very visible disappointment. It wasn’t like you needed to be loud, you just couldn’t help it. He fucked you too good to not make noise; sure, there were ways to mitigate it, but having the option to be vocal for him all but taken away from you, solely because your other sorority sisters—give or take a few—were fucking lame, was not it.

“I’ll go over there and give my dear sisters a fat kiss with my knuckles,” you speak up, gritting your teeth. “Think that would solve their issues?”

The few girls in the room that you know from your own greek life nod, mischief painted on their faces just like it was on yours.

Meian sighs, “Look, we have to be respectful of our neighbors. Some of which house quite a few of you lovely ladies sitting here right now, so if you have an issue with the noise complaints, plural, then take it up with your Sigma Chi sisters, sans violence, and your house mom. Have fun with that argument when she makes you take it up with your executive board. I’d love to see how hard you push back on this if it comes to that.”

Atsumu groaned, throwing his head back against the couch with his hands rubbing at his eyes, rocking back into an upright position with his elbows on his knees.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he says, talking more so out loud and to the rest of you than at the president. “We pay almost two-grand a year, each, to be in this frat and live in this house, not even including the day-to-day money stuff—and you’re telling me I can’t fuck my boyfriend as loud as I want behind my own closed doors? Please.”

“Ha,” Inunaki scoffs, chuckling to himself, “nice to finally get confirmation that Ku is the receiver there. Never would’ve guessed. You both sound like you’re taking it with how loud you are Tsumu.”

The twin scowls at the libero, his fingers twitching to flick the upperclassman in the center of his forehead. He relents, knowing that the older man could beat his ass if he tried. His years of training by fighting his brother would amount to nothing.

Bokuto clears his throat, sitting up straighter in his seat to address the chapter president. “So, not to be a dick about it but, uh, Atsumu has a point. We do pay to be here. We all follow the chapter rules, and besides, it’s not our fault the Chi girls—well, the other Sigma Chi girls, can’t hang. We don’t bitch about it when they have trivia night over there and scream shit about physics and mammals or whatever all night. Why do they get to tell us what to do in the privacy of our bedrooms?”

You nod along, jutting out your chin indignantly. You had plenty of love for your sorority and your sisters, but you were stifled enough within the insanely strict, explicitly sexist, utterly infuriating greek life bylaws that only seemed to affect the sororities, but not the fraternities somehow (even though they—other frats, not your boyfriend’s—were the ones that tended to be the cause of national news level scandals). Making the trek across the lawn to shack up in Bokuto’s bedroom was a whole different sea of freedom and opportunity that you just weren’t afforded as a sorer.

Paying money to be parented by a greek life system that didn’t understand that women could handle themselves with freedom, and to now have your freedoms oppressed even further in a house your boyfriend paid to keep running… man, fuck that. You joined greek life for the parties, the networking opportunities, and the community. You didn’t join for this shit.

Meian sighs, turning off the projector and flipping on the lights. He comes around the couch to sit on the arm, looking at all of you scattered around the large room. “Well, that’s the issue. The doors are closed, but the windows aren’t. Also, the walls are shit, the pipes carry noise outside, and all of you sound like you’re auditioning for America’s Next Top Pornstar during the weekends, and during the week in between practices—hello, again, Kageyama.”

The man shakes his head, sinking into his seat where Hinata is wrapped around him like a koala, grumbling something under his breath.

“Look, point-blank, keep the noise to a minimum, at least during the week. This isn’t just coming from me, we had a whole exec board meeting over this, and the landlord can and will kick us out of here if there are too many noise complaints filed on us with the city. Do you wanna go back to living in dorm rooms? Because I don’t. So, suck it up,” he says, a sense of finality in his tone. “You’re all dismissed.”

With that, the president leaves—stalking his way out of the backdoor and down the stone-step pathway out to the small man-made lake behind the fraternity house.

You all look around at each other in the room, small groans and whines coming from almost everyone in the space; well, those with dedicated partners at least.

“Well, sucks to be you guys,” Adriah said, lifting himself off of the floor. “Looks like there is more than one benefit to fucking older women that have their shit together already. See ya!”

He left as well, along with most of all the other single members of the frat. The rest of you loitered around the living room, talking and bitching about things amongst yourselves.

“I wonder if this whole thing will be on a recycle strike system like the other behavior-based rules,” Bokuto said, pulling you into his lap as you moved to sit on the floor. “Like… you can fuck up three times before getting your shit fucked but the strikes refresh every ninety days or whatever.”

A few of the boys hummed, some moving around the room picking up little trash things off the floor, while a few others handed beers around to those who wanted one.

“It might be,” Hinata said, his hair squashed by the weight of Kageyama’s chin resting on the crown of his head. “But, Meian probably won’t clarify until one of us breaks the rule so we can’t try to abuse the strikes beforehand. Fuck, he’s an evil genius.”

Inunaki chuckles, making his way across the room to go out the back exit door. “I don’t see why you’re all already trying to skirt around this one rule so hard. The board didn’t make this decision lightly; we know you’re all adults and deserve to have fun, but you did sign on and agree to rule changes, and at the end of the day this wasn’t really up to any of the admin. Just experiment with fuckin’ ball gags and embrace the wondrous world of asphyxiation or something if you really can’t keep it down—just, be careful! Be safe, don’t die.” The treasurer opened the door, only getting halfway out before he turned around again. “Just saying, you don’t have to alert the whole neighborhood that you’re fucking to prove to each other that it’s good! I promise.”

With that, he leaves, and you slump against Bokuto’s chest. Twiddling your thumbs together as you let your throats roam; pondering the older man’s words as you sit in their wake.

Choking. You’d never done that. What better time to try it?

“Hey Bo,” you whisper, turning in your boyfriend’s lap to whisper in his ear, “I think Shion might be on to something. Wanna go to your room for a little bit before dinner? Try some things out? Maybe… Youtube some stuff, watch some visual examples?”

His eyes darken to a medallion gold, looking down at you. He slides his hand along your jaw, gripping your face lightly to pull you into a mildly heated kiss. Through the slight daze of being kissed breathlessly by your partner, you do manage to note the sound of other kisses being shared in the room.

Looks like you’re all on the same page.

Bokuto breaks the kiss, his hand already underneath your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your soft tummy. “Hey guys, we’re gonna—” he said, stopping in his verbal tracks as he looked over to see nearly every couple left in the room making their way off to separate corners of the house—some even opting to go outside. The quickly approaching darkness of early-winter nightfall and the glorious lack of summer bugs made it easy to have some fun outdoors as well.

Looks like you all were really on the same page.

Bokuto stood the two of you up, grabbing your hand to lead you up the side staircase to his upper floor bedroom. The only two left in the room after you’d gone were Atsumu and Sakusa, holding each other in their arms as they kissed and cuddled around the kitchen.

You pretended not to see Atsumu dipping down to balance on his heels in front of his boyfriend as you ascended the stairs.

So, Youtube does in fact not have all the answers. Porn, even less so.

A little protip in case you needed confirmation on this: having your boyfriend—your boyfriend with no pro-dom experience—choke you to keep you quiet during sex… not a great idea. Even with both written and visual examples under your belt on how to do the thing, experimenting with heavier dominant aspects of sex is always best taught slowly, and by a professional.

You did not do things slowly or watch anything that came from a professional.

You can hear your boyfriend panicking, running next door into Hinata’s room with insane urgency. Though, despite how his panic may have made things seem, you were actually fine. You felt the slightest soreness blooming around your neck— where his hands had just been—and from his yelling pre-bolting out of the room you could tell your lips had the slightest tinge of blue developing on them, but you were actually breathing completely fine; the oxygen just needed a moment to fully flood back into your brain and up through to the surface of your skin.

Five more minutes of that and then maybe things would be a different story. Though Bokuto, understandably, thought he had accidentally murdered you, despite seeing your eyes open and responsive.

“Help! She… I think she’s hurt, and—fuck, less important detail but I’m gonna go to fucking jail!”

You chuckle as you hear him running door to door, asking for someone, anyone of his roommates to come help, and to call the emergency services line. You feel the subspace—the little elevation of epinephrine, endorphins, and enkephalins in your brain—beginning to alleviate itself a bit as you manage to sit up in bed, draping a blanket across your body to cover up, sipping at the water he had sitting on his bedside table when he launches himself back into his bedroom, tears running down his incredibly handsome, perfectly himbo-ish, face.

“Baby!” he yells, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist. His head is laid against your boobs, sobbing uncontrollably into your chest.

“Honey,” you say back, giggling as he continues with his tears. “Why are you crying?”

He sobs harder at your question, squeezing you just a bit tighter. Before he can answer, a few of his roommates come barreling into the room with an emergency worker in tow as they practically push the man into the bedroom. You can hear the sounds of basically everyone in the house running around trying to be of some assistance in the background.

“Hi,” the paramedic says, his voice soft and sweet, “My name’s Kenjiro. I’m just gonna take a look at you really quickly if that’s okay. Please remove the grown man from your front side and take off your bracelet for me please.”

Bokuto very reluctantly moves out of the way, sitting at the end of the bed by your feet as the healthcare professional starts to measure your vitals.

“So, can you tell me what happened in your own words,” he asks you, his eyes noticeably looking above your head to the slight indents forming in the wall from the (now cracked) headboard smacking against it—despite the little blocks you’d put in place to keep it from doing that.

You run through the tale of the evening, your cheeks and chest blooming with heat as you notice the small group of boys still standing outside of the room—some just standing ideally around while some are on the phone, and a few speak to the other paramedic that had come by as backup.

“I’m fine, honestly!” you say, your voice lower than normal from the strain you’d allowed your boyfriend to put on it. “We just tried something new and it didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“Something, meaning asphyxiation?” the paramedic asks, his face looking subtly smug. He places a blood pressure cuff on your arm, starting up the device as he puts a little clamp on the tip of your finger.

“Yes, that. I got a little… out of it, and didn’t tell him to stop when I got dizzy and I guess I was still making noise so he didn’t notice, and… yeah. Totally consensual, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just stupid and got a little carried away.”

The man chuckles, looking over at your boyfriend who’s three shades paler than he normally would be and looking like the human personification of anxiety.

“Well, that’s good. I don’t see anything that would allude to any unsavory actions. Nothing’s broken, you’re able to speak to me just fine, and your levels are back up. So, I think that’s all from me. Just be more careful next time. Maybe shelve the kinky stuff until you’ve researched it more.”

You slump against the pillows nestled behind your back in Bokuto’s bed as the healthcare team leaves, leaving only you and Bokuto—and all of his frat brothers—in the home.

“So, she’s fine?” Hinata quips, shirtless with messy hair that presumably meant you’d interrupted their fun. Atsumu comes up the stairs leading to your room two at a time, Sakusa close behind as he asks much of the same.

Bokuto explains for you that things are fine, and you both apologize for making everyone worry.

“Well, good. Meian and Inunaki both do know about this now though, so just FYI… I’d expect a little meeting about this later.”

You both nod, sighing and sinking into the sheets together again as the men all scatter back to their own little corners of the house, leaving you two to the silence of his room.

“Maybe we should stick to the ball gag idea next time,” you say, mischief clear in your eyes as you cuddle your boyfriend.

He chuckles, pulling you onto his chest to kiss every part of your face. “Not a chance in hell on that one.”

So, fast forward two days, and a lot of security camera footage review, later—the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity house has three more new rules.

6. From now on, you break it, you buy it. No more sponsor money will be allocated towards sex-related property damage.

7. The rooms will be soundproofed on Saturday. Obviously having sex quietly & not causing bodily injury is too hard for you for some reason, so we’re making it easier on you. Once the soundproofing is done, no more sex outside of your soundproofed rooms; not in the bathrooms, not in the backyard, not in the kitchen… you gross little heathens. Also, a reminder: close your windows and the blinds before you do it. The elders that walk the campus for exercise can see you & they have complained.

8. No more almost murder in the frat house. My heart can’t take this.

And all any of you could say in return was, "yeah, we deserved this.”

yaaay that was that. a little mental break from working on my chaptered fics bc they're all becoming their own little beasts. i crossposted this on ao3 — bookmark it if you'd like to have it in case something ever happens to this blog (god forbid). tyty for reading xox

[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[waumpel]

ADHD STUDY TIPS

I have adhd. I'm taking all online classes this semester for college. Somehow, I'm not failing. Here's what I do that works for me!

1. I have an alarm that makes me do math every morning to turn it off, it's called Alarmy! 📚

2. It also plays a different loud sound every day from random-- I have several hundred(?) ringtones downloaded from Zedge, things like songs from shows I like or Pokemon cries or MBMBAM lines, and this helps me wake up to a different sound I'm bound to like which my brain can't get used to (and then ignore). I highly suggest godzilla roars if you need to be startled awake. 📚

3. This is SUPER HARD but I always try to force myself to sit up in bed when I'm turning off my alarm or checking my phone or whatever, so I'm not tempted to pass out again. I also like to get up and loudly tell my cats "good morning" so I wake us both up 📚

4. PLEASE STOP EATING CEREAL AND BAGELS AND STUFF. You would not BELIEVE the difference it makes when you eat things like fruits and eggs in the morning. NO MORE 10AM NAPS, I'M WATCHING YOU 📚

5. I literally schedule in Duolingo time. If you aren't learning a language you can do some other enriching activity like this, idk. I force myself to do it on my computer, not phone, so I can't lay down in bed when I'm doin it. I have a 101-day streak!! 📚

6. ik this isn't available to everyone but SPACE MATTERS SO MUCH!! I got a gaming desk that we put in our living room and I do ALL of my homework there. I also got a second monitor for my laptop with is SOOOO important if you're multitasking (and we all are, bc we're adhders ibdusvcjkn) 📚

7. HAND WRITE YOUR NOTES!!! I know this is super hard for many people-- I have carpal tunnel so I get it lmao. If you can't, at least type them. YOU THINK YOU CAN MEMORIZE INFO BUT YOU'RE WRONG!! Please write as much as you can i swear it will change ur life 📚

8. COLOURED! PENS!!! These changed the game for me y'all. I take all my notes in at least 2 colours, and I cycle through them a lot. My favs are Pilot Frixions because u can erase them :) (the highlighters are epic too) 📚

9. Make your space fun, but NOT DISTRACTING. I have a plant (his name is Yoshi) and a desk Godzilla (his name is Godzilla) on my desk, but they're out of the way so I can't zone out starin at em. But also, when I'm bored outta my gourd, I can smile at Yoshi and tell him how my day is goin :] 📚

10. SNACKING BAD *BUT*... sometimes i do it anyway... i try to associate certain foods with subjects, like I eat cocoa M&Ms (which are awesome) when I'm reading my Kaqchikel textbook. On the upside, I think it helps me recall Kaqchikel better? but also the language makes me crave mnms adkldigurvn 📚

11. LISTEN TO... CERTAIN MUSIC. I have learned that music with words, even in LANGS I DO NOT KNOW, is HELL for my adhd. Right now I'm listening to stuff like "Pokemon and Chill" (lofi album on YT), Studio Ghibli violin covers, and Night on Bald Mountain 5x on repeat ibjnvc.... I highly suggest songs/videos that are, like, 20+ minutes or else you'll get distracted with the constant change. Also, that No One's Around To Help 1hr vid is REALLY REPETITIVE and therefore PERFECT for when I'm reading textbooks. 📚

12.  EVERY NIGHT... i make a super detailed timetable schedule for the next day, down to the half hour. I don't always follow it but it's a really good reminder of what I gotta do. I write it on a whiteboard but sometimes I also write it on a sticky note and on social media so I don't forget. To do lists are so epic you guys 📚

13. THIS HAS SAVED MY L I F E: at the beginning of the semester I looked at ALL of my syllabi and wrote down EVERY daily task, test, homework, etc BY DATE. this is essentially a premade to do list EVERY DAY for MONTHS and oh my gosh it is the best thing I have ever done. 📚

14. I use the Forest app to track my productivity AND lock me out of apps ndsjv... podomoro timers work well too!!! 📚

15. Ok so for me this is like... a religious thing bc my Patron (my God) is a deity of fire AND working, but I like to light a candle (scented like FALL!!) and do a little prayer on it and I have it next to me when I'm workin on terrible, terrible homework. It helps me feel like my Patron is here with me, but also it’s GREAT for grounding and I can just kinda. Stare blankly at the flame and then get back to tryin to focus. 📚

16. Please drink water lmao, to make sure I drink enough I set little goals like "take a sip after every paragraph you read" 📚

17. Each of my classes has a different coloured notebook which I'm consistent with! Like, all my German notebooks through the years have been green! Also I take notes w green pens a lot in Deutsch 📚

18. HELLA STICKY NOTES... I put em on the bottom of my monitor, on a shelf by my desk, in my books as bookmarks (bad idea lol), on Yoshi. When I wanna go look up something random but I need to focus, I like to write it down on sticky notes to look at later. 📚

19. I'm the most annoying student ever. I like to do a bunch of assignments at once so I don't have to budget my time later, so I'll turn in like 5 things in an hour and then NOTHING for a week. ALSO i email my teachers constantly if I have any questions at all. I work at a pace that works for me!!! 📚

20. I turn off my sound on my phone until I'm done with work bc otherwise I WILL open that notification 📚

22. I make a loooot of chai (and also some overpriced herbal teas). It makes me feel fancy, it's better for me than coffee, and it helps me ground and focus! Plus it's a samefood! 📚

23. Hyperfixating on classic literature would be awesome, except I'm hyperfixating on Gothic and I'm taking a lit class for More Than Just Gothic. But I'm figuring out ways to connect them, which is really helpful, cause I get to enjoy my hyperfixation while learning for school! PLZ TRY TO DO THIS (harder when you're hyperfixating on godzilla :pensivecowboy:) 📚

21. When I have extra time I write my notes like I'm plannin to put em on Tumblr and taggin em as #darkacademia... I never post my notes, but when they look nice it's easier for me to look over em later. Plus it takes me longer to write so I remember it a lil better!! 📚

24. I'm in an awesome academia + studyspo server!! We sometimes study together on call and it's SUCH a good motivator! Here's an invite link if u wanna join, we are nice https://discord.gg/fjuX7TN (this wasn’t meant to be a promo post I just really like this group lol) 📚

OK I hope that helps!!! Feel free to add more if you have any tips that work for you :) Neurotypicals, feel free to RB respectfully!

(pics are: syllabus list, daily schedule, Yoshi the plant, and some fancy notes)

[lcnelyinthesky]

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises. 

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

-

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

-

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least. 

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light. 

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe. 

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

-

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge. 

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling. 

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height. 

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet. 

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain. 

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

-

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief. 

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him. 

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

-

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were. 

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know. 

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration. 

[mr-jaybird]

3, 17, 20, 29, 35

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I generally share them to close friends who I talk to regularly--having a couple friends to bounce things around with really helps keep me engaged! And honestly, reaching this threshold is not hard: I love talking to people and get SUPER excited to discuss my fic, so really anyone who DMs me is Potential New Friend. Certain plot twists or big moments I keep close to the chest so they don't lose impact, but yeah, fucking love talking to people.

I also talk to my husband about it, which is hysterical because he is not a fandom person AT ALL. As far as I am aware he has never ever read any fanfic but mine and he does not have a tumblr or anthing. Certainly he never knew ao3 existed before we met. He really likes my fic though and gets excited about it. He's a very normal 34 year old man who thinks I'm his little genius :)

17. Do you have a writing routine?

I do not! But what I do do, generally, is sit down and write the entire chapter start to finish in order in one sitting. Sometimes for longer chapters I might write one POV one day and the next the day after, but generally it would be very unusual for me to take more than one session in that manner (I write about 1000-1500 words an hour, and go into Focus Mode). I never jump around, the order in which you read the chapter/fic is always the order in which I wrote it.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

STRONG preference for canon. I DO like canon-divergent AU's, that's actually my favorite tbh, but I am not at all interested in any other types of AU. I don't read them either! My emotional attachment is to the characters as they exist in their universe, and for me putting them in like a coffeeshop etc alters them so fundamentally I don't really care anymore (in general, I am a very strong believer in life experiences shaping who you are as a person). Totally get why people like them, but it isn't my thing.

29. What's something about your writing that you're proud of?

I think that I am very good at capturing the "voices" of multiple distinct characters. I've gotten a lot of compliments that people can hear my characters in their head as they sound in the source media! I think part of this is because I am really good at recognizing the structure of language. I can see how people speak differently on both a vocabulary and grammatical level--echoes of me trying to teach myself how to speak like "normal people" as a teenager by studying their vocal patterns and vocab, lmao (I was successful, but I do not always care to abandon my natural mode of speech in favor of this, as an adult).

I also am a bit of a natural mimic that way--if I read someone else's writing, for example, I naturally pick up the pattern of their writing/speech and my thoughts begin to mimic the structure. Made me SUPER good at writing parody for school assignments. I also tend to not read fic on days I write it for the same reason, don't want to write in someone else's voice by accident.

35. What's your favorite fic you've posted?

Choosing Life, without question. I am actually thinking of getting it printed and bound when I'm done!

[treethymes]

@cultiverunjardin

Can I just say it looks like you were hilarious in high school I Stan

well i certainly thought i was lmao... but no you're right i had a lot of fun. in my junior year english class our first assignment was to write and present a short introduction for a classmate. i got a really nice guy; he was a korean christian who did ice skating (and maybe tennis too?) and i presented him like he was a saint, just flawless and selfless. at one point i mentioned one of the ten commandments ("honor thy father and mother") to emphasize what a good kid he was lol. anyways afterwards this one guy told me that was the hardest he'd ever laughed. and man, i get choked up thinking about that. what a compliment.

also, the way i prepared for that presentation was unhinged. i wrote the short paper regularly (without jokes) and the oral presentation was completely different. one guy asked if i could share a written copy of the presentation and another immediately said "he can't. that was all improv." and i didn't say anything bc he was right it wasn't written down. but it wasn't improvised (im a slow thinker, couldn't be put on the spot like that lol). what i did was come up with the whole routine in my head, jotted down some key words on a post-it note, and then rehearsed and memorized it all mentally the night before. i thought i was jay-z lmao. (i actually did the presentation twice. the first day i totally choked but i was the last one to go and ran out of time so i got to do it again the next day. the second day went so well that ppl thought i choked the previous day on purpose.)

anyways, i think it had a lot to do with my environment. like i guess i was a class clown throughout high school and i continued trying to be funny whenever i could (like in the junior year anecdote above) but most classes didn't present that many opportunities to make jokes (without becoming even more obnoxious than i was lol). my sophomore english class was very special. the teacher was cool and there were just many opportunities to joke around. for example, sharing what sentences we made up for our vocabulary workbook exercises. and a lot of presentations. like when we read lord of the flies we made videos acting out certain scenes (inadvertently, i completely misread and misinterpreted one part lol). the most memorable was when we read jane eyre. my group acted out (in front of class, not as a video) the scene when rochester proposes to jane. i was jane and my friend put a paper ring on me and i said "wrong finger, asshole" and my teacher laughed so hard she turned red. at the end of the year i also brought my guitar to school and sang a riff on "most beautiful girl in the room" by flight of the conchords to my teacher lol. it was a very special class. we even had t-shirts made to commemorate it.

at that time i think i really wanted to be an actor (comedic obviously since im bragging about how funny i was but i mean... ive got the range) (didn't want to do stand-up bc i didn't feel suited to it). anyways, after sophomore year, the stress from schoolwork and my social anxiety only intensified with each year and i felt like my sense of humor diminished proportionally; and it was essentially gone by the time i went to college. so then i started writing tumblr poetry lmao (also the product of a very specific environment on here at that time) but eventually that creative impulse diminished as well. and by the end of undergrad i really felt like a hollow shell of my former self. (mitski's makeout creek came out right before my last semester and i think i listened to that album for like two months straight lmao)

it was only very recently that ive felt like maybe my sense of humor has come back (as well as my ability to read books).

[wickedhawtwexler]

2020 has been an absolute shit show but i decided to take a few minutes to remind myself that this year wasn’t a total wash, and that some good things actually did happen this year, so excuse me while ya girl gets a little corny on main <3

so. good things that happened this year:

literally just january 2020. i traveled all the way to oxford on my own without any massive fuck-ups. i went to a conference where i didn’t know anybody, was friendly to people, talked about my research with some level of confidence. THEN i went to scotland to meet my internet friend of 11 years in person for the first time! and we spent a few days hanging out and i got to meet his friends and family and coworkers and it was so much fun!!!

in february i made the goal to practice music every day, a goal which i followed through on, and as a result i’ve gotten so much better at my instruments, especially guitar. i’ve gotten so comfortable with the guitar and am pretty close to being able to just, like, totally shred like a rock goddess

related: i got back into song writing. like insanely into song writing. i wrote a ton of music, including a few songs i’m actually really proud of and will maybe record and share one day if i can ever get the courage to record my singing lmao

also related: i learned how to play ukulele and banjo! i really didn’t have much interest in learning either of these instruments until quarantine boredom hit but i’m glad i did bc i’m having a lot of fun with them

i passed my preliminary exam and became a phd candidate, and i MAY hate grad school currently but i’m still proud of all the hard work and perseverance that went into achieving candidacy (not to mention that now i’ve met all the requirements to leave with my masters if i choose to <3)

i took my last class ever. after twenty years of non-stop schooling i will never have to take another test or do another homework assignment unless i decide to which is sooo freeing

i dyed my hair blue, something i’ve dreamed of since i was thirteen years old

i pierced my own ears, which some might argue is not a good thing, but i’m happy with how it all turned out sooo i’m putting it on the list

i more or less overcame my email anxiety. i’ve drastically reduced the amount of time i spend agonizing over wording, and this is something i have struggled with literally since high school so i’m proud of myself <3

i wrote over 67,000 words for nanowrimo, making it my most productive year ever by 6,000 words. and while a lot of these words were super stream of conscious and will need to be rewritten, it really helped me figure out all the intricate details of my wip. i was also pretty involved in my local nanowrimo group, which is the first time i’ve been particularly active in a virtual writing community since the days of figment.com back in like. 2013 lmao.

i’ve put a lot of time and money into decorating my apartment and it looks really good!

i’ve watched a lot of tv shows and movies i hadn’t seen before, rather than watching my favorites a billion times like i normally do

overall 2020 has obviously not been a good year. both for the world in general and for me individually. BUT!!! plenty of good things happened (to me, individually, at least) and idk. just writing all this out helped me feel less pessimistic about 2021

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

📋📚🕛? 👀

📋What are your favourite and least favourite tropes? 

- I think I’ve talked about it once before but I haaaate the trope of miscommunication that leads to more problems. If a character is actively hiding something or keeping it to themselves for some reason? Fine! Dandy! At least there’s a reason behind the ensuing issue. But when it’s a matter of, “this character has a piece of information that a reasonable person would provide in order to deescalate or at least pause the argument, but they don’t because the author clearly wants ~*drama*~ to happen,” I immediately check out. 

On the other hand, I love the trope of, “character gets what they were seeking, but in a way they don’t expect.” I feel like challenging a character’s perspective on the world so that they can grow is a much more satisfying ending than them just succeeding. The latter is perfectly fine, I just like the former a lot.

📚 What was your first story about? 

- I had a lot of IDEAS, but the first story that I kind of went all in for was my kind-of-but-not-really-demons story. It was about this human girl who was kidnapped (along with a bunch of other people her age all around the world) and taken back to the demon homeworld of Discord to… uhhh pretty much bolster their invasion forces for a full scale takeover of the human plane. The kidnapped kids were all turned into demons to start a rigorous training/brainwashing routine, except the main character who had a ~*prophecy*~ about her. (BECAUSE OF COURSE.) She ends up falling in with one of the prisoners of a civil uprising named Cellix who had his horns removed because they had insane time-based powers which they were using to kidnap the human kids in the first place. They meet, become friends, fall in love and escape, then come back to start a full scale uprising themselves. I wrote the whole thing in my last year of middle school and it was TRULY awful, but it was the first thing I ever really committed to so obviously I'm still a little soft on it. I've thought of re-purposing the characters into a newer, more mature short story, but Seven Cities has all of my attention right now, so I doubt it'll happen, lmao.

🕐When did you start writing? 

- My earliest writing memory is from when I was like. Eight or nine. My elementary school had a tiny little "publishing" set up, which mostly consisted of parent volunteers formatting, binding, and putting little cardboard covers on stories that kids brought in. My English teacher gave us an assignment to write a story to be "published,” and then we’d illustrate it and whatnot. I have a very sharp, vivid memory of sitting in my grandmother's kitchen and realizing 1) this was something that I REALLY enjoyed doing and 2) that it was something I COULD do. It was the first time I genuinely understood that I had the ability to put words together to make a story, and that I didn't have to be a capital A Author to do it. I actually still have that little book, and I pick it up from time to time when I’m feeling crappy about my work. Gotta make mini Frenchy proud, y’know?