#This ask is literally so old and I've had a half-finished answer in my drafts for ages because I never finished my answer

[eoieopda]

the one with seokjin, soju, and all the stars in the sky

Requested by Anon: Kim Seokjin got really drunk on a members-night-out, so his fiancée has to pick his cute, clingy ass up. ft. late-night wake-ups, gn!reader, and a lot of feelings about science. A/N: I accidentally deleted the draft associated with this ask, so now it's a separate post. Sorry for the wait, anon!

When Seokjin left for the evening, he'd placed a kiss on your forehead and a new book in your hands.

The novel in question was some obscure, independently published thing Namjoon had recommended. You'd mentioned it to Seokjin in passing — weeks ago — but hadn't had the downtime to seek it out since. Even if you had somehow carved out a moment to scour the local bookshops, you wouldn't have had the spare hours to immerse yourself in it the way you'd want to.

Not enough to meaningfully discuss its themes with Namjoon, anyway.

But Seokjin was Seokjin. He'd made some secret, mental note about what you said; hunted down that old single-edition book; and come up with a reason to spend his Saturday night elsewhere. He and his friends would get dinner and drinks — you'd get an overdue bubble bath and the solitude necessary to study for your unofficial, impromptu, two-member book club.

And that's precisely how you'd spent your night before tucking yourself into bed at the beautifully reasonable hour of half-past nine.

When your phone went off four hours later, you thought you were dreaming. You squinted at the screen for so long, trying to wrap your brain around the contact information blaring into your bleary eyes, that you almost failed to answer.

"Namjoon?" You croaked, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide from the offensive lamp light beaming off your bedside table. "I'm gonna need, like, a liter of coffee before I can wax poetic about the —"

"Hey, noona, it's Namjoon-ah!" He cut you off before you could finish. If the delayed, rhyming introduction didn't tip you off, the snorting, self-inflicted laughter would have.

Kim Namjoon, the designated dad of the friend group, was irrefutably ripped, zipped, and zooted.

You scrubbed your hand over your face in a futile attempt to stop your forming grin in its tracks. "Your picture popping up on my phone told me as much," You chuckled through your exhaustion, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this wake-up call?"

You heard him shout geonbae and gulp down some sort of shot before he provided you with an answer.

"Sojin has entered the chat," He announced with an absurd, deepened voice. Immediately, he cackled, "Get it? It's a portmanteau of soju and Seokjin, who is shitfaced — anyways, can you come get your man?"

It took you five minutes to throw on clothes and shuffle out the door to your car. The drive to the bar took only slightly longer, though it was the traffic lights and not the distance that slowed you down.

Unfortunately, twenty years came and went while you tackled the dreaded, subsequent task: parallel fucking parking.

The stress of it all nearly had you sweating by the time you entered the bar — you'd be hearing all that judgmental honking in your sleep, once you got back to it — but it all evaporated the second you saw Seokjin.

Off in the far corner, he sat on the outer half of a bench. Trapped inside that booth, visibly waiting for the sweet release of death, was Min Yoongi. You couldn't make out the details of that predominantly one-sided conversation, but you could tell by Seokjin's wild gesticulating and pink-tipped ears that he was ranting about something.

Bits and pieces fell into place as you made your away over, but no part of the overheard conversation made much sense to you.

Seokjin hiccupped, "I've said it once and I'll s-say it again —"

"— Hyung, I guarantee you've said it way more than once —" Yoongi attempted to interject, but he was quickly silenced by more of Seokjin's animated hand-waving.

"— Magic. It's magic, Yoongi. I'm tell — I'm telling you, man. There's just — hic — Science is stupid. I don't care about it, you know? And do you want — you wanna know why, Yoongi? Well, I'll t-tell you why —"

As he blinked emphatically at Yoongi, Seokjin must've somehow sensed you across the bar. He stopped dead in the middle of his unsolicited dissertation, wide-eyed with his jaw dropped, and gasped, "Baby!"

Before you could physically brace yourself for impact, he'd launched his clumsy frame out of his seat and collected you in his arms. Within seconds, without time to blink, his warm cheek was smushed against yours. Plush lips fluttered near your ear as he mumbled, "I missed you."

Of course, it'd only been a few hours since he last saw you, but he held you like you'd just returned from years at sea. Breathing deeply and contentedly, likely taking in the scent of your shampoo. Gently clutching the fabric of your jacket in his hands as if you'd float away otherwise. You had no desire whatsoever to burst that perfect, loving bubble, so you simply squeezed him tighter and told him that you'd missed him more.

Over his shoulder, you saw relief wash over Yoongi's face. No longer held hostage, he scooted himself out of the booth and immediately twisted in place to crack his back.

How long had he been stuck in there?

"Thank fuck," Yoongi sighed as he proceeded to crack his neck. He rolled his shoulders while answered the question you were about to ask, "Twenty entire minutes. Barely paused long enough to breathe, so I thought, shit — what if he dies here? I was scared I'd have to spend the rest of my days in this booth."

Seokjin, who still hadn't untangled himself from you, simply giggled. With his cheek remaining flush to yours, you could feel him grinning. He offered nothing whatsoever in his own defense, so Yoongi waved at you and turned to head off towards the restrooms.

You called out after him, prompting him to turn around. "What's so stupid about science?"

Yoongi's mouth stretched into a straight line across the entire bottom half of his face; his eyes narrowed to match. He heaved yet another sigh, gestured languidly to the half-cut fiancée clinging to you like a vest, and smirked, "He's convinced you hung the stars in the sky."

You would've melted into a puddle on the spot, but then Seokjin piped up and promptly shot your unsuspecting, lovestruck heart over the moon instead.

Abruptly changing the subject, he whispered — suddenly serious, as if it was the most important question in the world:

"Did you like the book, baby?"

[traegorn]

I need to stop doing this to myself.

(A Rant Where Trae Has Written Too Many Books This Month)

So since most of you started following me because of Witchcraft or podcast stuff, I realize a lot of you don't know how much fiction writing I do.

Primarily what I've published are comics. The big one is UnCONventional (which ran from December of 2009 to December of 2019), but I also did a steampunk comic called The Chronicles of Crosarth (which I put on hiatus in like 2018 intending to come back to... but I haven't, and I make no guarantee that I will even though over 650 of the 800 planned pages are done). Crosarth is... fine? The art isn't great in either of these, but UnCONventional carries itself with the humor.

But that's all old stuff. You may be like "Trae, what have you been producing for the last four years," and the answer is "not a lot." I got major creative block with the pandemic. Peregrine Lake, the "Northwoods Gothic" comic I was supposed to launch in 2020 (which has some characters from UnCONventional in it) didn't materialize when I said it would. What storytelling energy I had went into Stormwood & Associates and The Meatgrinder (my two actual play podcasts), but that was it.

And then 2023 happened, and the juices started flowing again.

Peregrine Lake is moving forward -- but with me just doing the writing. My urge to draw has not returned, but my urge to write has. A friend of mine, Ethan Flanagan, is drawing it, and I've written the first year of comics. It likely won't launch any time soon (the artist I'm working with is busy as hell so we want to get a shit-ton of the comic done before we launch it -- we have like the first month and a half of the comic ready?). But yeah -- it's happening. I hoping for Spring, but we'll see.

The other thing though is that I've started writing, like, novels. I've always had like twenty ideas in my head, so I figured I'd give it a shot. I decided to start with the idea I cared the least about (in case I fucked it up): A queer urban fantasy story.

In the last month and a half I've written complete drafts of two different novels in this setting, and am halfway through another one... and have another one outlined.

I, uh, had some ideas.

If you're asking yourself "Hey Trae -- what the fuck? That's a lot" you need to know a few things that aren't obvious. At one point in college, in 72 hours, I produced over 40 pages of text between three research papers. All were for 300 level courses, and I may have disassociated while writing them because I frankly don't remember most of it. But, like, they were decent papers.

One of those papers is in Google Scholar.

Anyway, yeah. I haven't been sleeping great because I've been obsessively writing, but you might ask "Why didn't you just write one and get it ready to publish?" That's a great question. Because I wrote a book, and when I was 3/4 of the way through it I realized something very important: This book would make a great sequel to a book I haven't written. I've been writing book two in a series where I haven't written book one yet.

Well fuck.

So I finished that draft, and I went and wrote book one. Now that book? That book I'm getting ready to publish. I expect to have it out in January. Part of my editing process involves setting what I think is a completed, good, revised draft down for a couple of weeks and then returning to it with fresh eyes. We're in that waiting period right now.

But I still had a bunch of energy.

So the first thing I did was a revising draft on book two (the one I wrote first), but I finished that. And had more energy. And more stories in this setting kept popping up.

So I started a third book. And I'm halfway through the first draft of that book. But then I realized yesterday... shit, this isn't book three.

This is book four.

I need stuff to happen before we get to this story.

So now I've outlined the actual book three, and am working on literally both of these books at once (I'll take a break for Christmas and then go do a final edit on Book One).

And... I'm just like... why am I like this?

I need to stop myself for a few days and get more sleep.

[coexistentialism]

i was curious it you were willing to share how you worked out you had DID and not another dissociative disorder? you talk about the experience differently to what people normally portray and say you generally don't relate to how most people speak about their experiences, so im curious about how you worked out it was a possibility?

(really hoping this doesn't sound like fakeclaiming, that's not at all what I'm trying to do)

No worries, it doesn't sound like fakeclaiming. 👍

Hmmm... This one's hard to answer.

This is mostly speaking from a standpoint of someone who is no longer in an abusive home environment. Although I first started to question it when I was still living with my dad, I don't really have many memories of living there, and I didn't really take it seriously until after moving out.

A LOT of research. An absolute assload of research. Lmfao 😭

Surrounding myself with systems so that I could ask them questions, although this one can also be less helpful and more hurtful. I would stay away from most DID/OSDD-centered Discord servers. I know it sounds weird because I literally own one, but mine is the only good one out there so it's an exception (this is a half-joke 😭)

No, but seriously. A lot of them fucking suck. I have not been in a single good one besides mine throughout my entire years of questioning. This isn't an advertisement to join my server, but yeah 😭

Especially if the server has a lot of minors. It's not a "KiDs ThESe daYS" type of thing, it's more a "a lot of teenagers are highly uneducated about DID and OSDD and many of them tend to gravitate towards the more expected kind of DID presentation, which is. Very unhelpful. For everyone." And other issues too, but yeah, try to stay away from servers with a lot of minors. If you're a minor yourself, I'd say even moreso to try and avoid them if you can.

I recommend the DID/OSDD PsychForums. I still update my own thread every so often. I should've chosen a different username so that I'm not easily noticeable, but I guess it doesn't really matter to me if people figure out what account is mine. It's fairly obvious. If you know and see it, you'll know.

It took me, like, 3 years until I was fully able to really accept that my moods truly are what DID is. It was mostly me asking my therapist a lot "but I'm just always me, I'm always conscious, I'm never just someone else?" And her confirming multiple times that "yes, that is what DID is." Which I know is not very helpful for a lot of people.

I would still be questioning and in doubt if my therapist wasn't able to fully confirm that Yes, These Experiences Really ARE What DID Is.

The hardest part was/is actually trying to relate to the symptoms and such because of how unaware I was/am about my symptoms, and how unrelatable that a lot of the given descriptions of how the symptoms feel for people are.

I have a post in my drafts about what things have helped me and what things have harmed throughout my time questioning, and I'm sure that post would be super helpful when I can finish it one day, might try and see if I can do that later lol

Lots and lots of journaling. It never seems helpful in the moment, but trust me, you will be reading back things you've journaled about and the symptoms will become a lot more apparent.

Just yesterday I was going through my oldest Discord messages between me and an old friend, trying to archive my vents and such mostly, and I was appalled reading how DISTINCTLY different I would be based off of my typing, the things I would talk about, my general personality, and more. I never felt like a different person really, even in these moments when my friends would say I was different, and reading back these messages had me going "who the fuck WAS that HELLO??" 😭

If you use Discord frequently, it can be helpful to look back at old messages and see if you can notice any patterns, or just notice if you're describing any of the symptoms at all. I've been wanting to make a post sharing some of the stuff I've found from old messages where I was perfectly describing things like switching, etc. without even realizing it.

Noticing patterns is the biggest thing. It's the only way I can figure out my alters, is by figuring out patterns of my behaviors, feelings, etc.

It can be easy to dismiss anything and everything as "but that's not DID/not switching/etc. Because (xyz)", but take it from me: no matter how unhelpful you think it is to write something down, do it anyways. Your future self will thank you.

When people told me to try journaling, it frustrated me because I never saw the point because "I always remember the stuff I write down. What's the point? I don't find things I don't remember writing :/" which is still true for the most part, but the thing is, you might write something down and then in the FUTURE read it back and not remember it or not understand it or might notice a pattern, etc. So write shit down! No matter how silly, dumb, unhelpful you think it is.

Also, not sure if this will apply to anyone else, but I sometimes will feel silly/embarrassed/anxious about writing out something, and I have to remind myself that I am the only one who can read these things and I have control over who I may or may not share these things with. If that makes sense? Don't police yourself, kill the cop in your head. Write about anything you want, don't let the cop in your head make you feel cringe or embarrassed or like a bad person for writing certain things. It's okay.

Throw away the community labels. Forget about trying to figure out "do I have OSDD or DID or partial DID or???????-" forget about all of that and just worry about figuring out your experiences.

I wanted to know For Sure whether or not I had DID. I didn't wanna be told "write down your daily symptoms ^w^" I wanted to figure out whether or not I OBJECTIVELY was experiencing the symptoms. At all. Whatsoever. And I didn't know how to do that without having to look super deep trying to see if any of them even applied to me at all in general.

But figuring out your symptoms and experiences is precisely what will help you figure out if you have DID/OSDD.

My dissociative walls have been lessening a lot more precisely because of things like having epiphanies like realizing "oh, I struggle to throw away food when I don't like it/don't want it because growing up I wasn't allowed to jot eat food I didn't want or didn't like and I was shamed for it. I had to go to lengths to hide me trying to discard my food growing up, even going as far as flushing it down the toilet." And then giving myself permission to discard food I don't want and don't like.

Small things like that. Making realizations. They seem unhelpful and dumb in the moment, but they go a long way.

The biggest thing is this: You will figure things out with time. Be patient. Don't push yourself to know everything so soon. I kept expecting myself to have had it "figured it out by now", but it takes time. It takes a lot of time. Time will pass quickly and you will feel as if you made no progress, but time will pass and you will figure out things you didn't realize before.

There's definitely more helpful advice out there, but that's all I got.

People will also say symptom tracking as in "figure out when you dissociate; figure out your flashbacks; etc." But I still don't know how to tell what flashbacks are and I can't tell you if I'm dissociating, so my advice ends here 💀

[vibratoryblurriness]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send this to the last 7 people in your notifications, anonymously or not!

@ruffboijuliaburnsides saying they had a bunch of drafts of old stuff like this from forever ago sitting around half finished made me want to check if I still did too, and I guess I do. Now I remember the main reason I didn't answer this one.

Fun fact the first: the more open ended a question is the harder it is for me to answer, and I've heard some other neurodivergent people say this too. Three random facts? That could be literally anything about literally anything! How am I supposed to choose good ones/the right ones/any ones at all?

This has driven some people around me nuts for years, because it applies to a lot of stuff. If you ask me what I want for dinner with no other context it could go one of two ways. One, I could get distracted by all the possibilities and start thinking about how plants photosynthesize and wonder if I could eat sunlight for dinner, and then move on to wondering if swallowing my pride or eating my words would count too. Or two, I now no longer even know what food is. My mind is completely blank.

Or you could just ask me and give me a few different choices and then I'll immediately have an answer. Brains are weird, especially mine.

Speaking of food, fun fact the second: I was eating ice cream while pondering this. Well, fake ice cream because dairy makes me very sick (and so does a lot of fake ice cream too because soy makes me a smaller amount of sick). I just eat it straight out of the container because it's always a small one because no one but me eats the fake stuff, and I can't be bothered with a bowl and ice cream scoop.

This is all important background information because I also have Raynaud's, and ice cream is very cold. Even just holding the tub of hummus for too long while eating it makes my fingers start to hurt or kind of buzz after a while. Stuff out of the freezer is much worse much faster, so at some point I figured out a way to fold up a dishtowel and wrap it around the ice cream so it makes a little handle so I don't actually have to touch the container myself, and then I still have fingers when I'm done. This is both fun and a fact.

I have discovered a truly marvelous third fun fact, which this margin is too narrow to contain.

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

who would win in a fight: Loki or Perry :3

but now that the series has come out, I think I have to rectify my response.

I think it would depend on why they're fighting. I think Loki probably could win if he tried hard enough. If Perry really gave him a reason for it, he could squash the little dude like a bug. He is magic, after all. But at the same time, Perry is really good at not getting dead. He wouldn't necessarily be good with the offense -- he can't just hit Loki in the face a few times until he presses a button and puts a stop to their fight like he does with Doof -- but I think with his speed, size, and quick thinking, he'd be good at staying out of the way. That could end one of three ways.

1) Loki beats him anyway; it just takes a while

2) Loki decides it's not worth the effort and he has more important things to do; they both go their separate ways

3) It's an OWCA-sponsored fight. They probably saw Loki doing something he shouldn't and sent their best agent to stop him. Neither Perry nor Loki has any stake in this fight, and tbh, they're both pretty interested in their foe. It's pretty clear that Loki does like to hear himself talk, even if he disagrees, so while it's not quite like fighting Doof, there's a lot of information being exchanged while they fight. Loki personally has no quarrel with the blue/gree beaver-duck, so he'd want to know why said beaver-duck has one with him. Somehow OWCA would be brought up -- not in as many words; Loki does have to base this all off body language -- and he decides he's interested in this secret organization. That could either end with Loki overtaking or destroying all of OWCA, or he could take a look around and they part amicably. (Even if he was legally an animal and he was offered a position, I don't think there's even a slim chance he'd join. OWCA exists purely to stop the chaos that Loki loves to inflict. He only joined the TVA because they threatened his life; OWCA has no such power, nor do they have a charming agent who would take a special interest in him.)

[pokemonswshfics]

hello friend! :D i had accidentally posted this draft of it before i was finished, that's why the message of the request is a screenshot, so sorry for the slight wait :"D have a good read! + (i didn't really know what speaking up meant , so it's slightly different for each in terms of "speaking up" hehe i hope you all enjoy 💛)

// because of how long this post might be, I'm gonna leave the read more button right here before all of them. they're sfw but I wouldn't wanna clog up anyone's tl :'D k byee ^-^

Raihan/Kabu/Piers × Shy Male! Reader (Sfw)

Raihan × Shy Male!Reader // S/O (Sfw { mild cursing })

You stood outside Hammerlocke stadium waiting for your boyfriend as he said to meet you there. You had on his jacket, with the hood up because of how many people were around. This didn't stop reporters and fangirls from coming up to you, all bombarding you with questions.

You simply pulled the hood down and shoved your hands into the pocket. It wasn't that you were trying to be rude, you just preferred the attention be on someone else. Literally anyone else.

"How does it feel to be Raihan's first public boyfriend?"

"Hey! Look up here for a quick photo, it wont hurtcha. You're already so cute from what we've seen!"

"Do you love him?"

"Are you gonna stay under there?"

If it was up to you, you would stay in your boyfriend's clothes forever. It was a perfect hiding spot.

"I-I would prefer..not to answer." You stuttered out quietly and stepped closer to the gym doors. The attention got overwhelming at times but you would do this forever if it meant being with Raihan. He was worth it.

"What's annoying about Raihan? Isn't it tiring, that he puts his whole life on the internet?"

You scowled a little and pulled your hood down farther. "I think it's cute." You said under your breath.

"Don't you wish he was champion instead? He always fails at beating Leon!"

"What?" You said softly and lifted your head up a little, but not enough to be seen. The people surrounding you only saw this as invitation to ask more.

"Isn't he a little full of himself when it comes to battles? You can answer us!" Someone said excitedly and shoved a microphone towards you.

"Fine, take this for an answer." You almost snatched the microphone from their hand and frowned at them. "No, I do not find Raihan annoying. I'm very proud of him for even having a gym in the first place. He doesn't need to be Champion to be accomplished! Who the hell are you guys to even be asking stuff so rude? Are YOU Champion?"

Your hood fell back to your shoulders by the time you were done talking. Instantly, camera flashes hit your eyes and you tried to cover your face with your sleeves. You were still beyond angry, and it only increased as you heard the people begin talking again.

"Aw, so cute!"

"Are you really dating Raihan?"

"Raihan got lucky!"

You clenched your fists and dropped the mic you had snatched to your feet.

Then you lunged at a reporter.

Two women screamed, one yelped because of the sudden action and right before you actually touched the man you were going to attack..

"Hey." You felt a pair of strong arms pick you up and throw you over their shoulder. You were met with a back side that had a dark navy shirt on, and navy gym shorts. The Dragon Type uniform.

"Calm down, Tyrogue headass.." Raihan chuckled and you blushed at the familiar teasing. You could hear squeals from the crowd, the same one you would have attacked with your bare hands had it not been for Raihan coming at the last second.

"Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!" You said quickly and began waving your fists in protest. "They weren't being nice about you!"

"Not worth your time, babe. Thanks for keeping him occupied." You could practically hear the grin in Raihan's voice as he began to turn back to the doors of his gym to carry you in. You faced the reporters again and now looked up at them with a scowl. Their faces were all in awe at Raihan carrying you. Some continued taking pictures.

"Oouu let him put me down and I'll- do not very nice things!" You growled quietly and shook one of your fists at them.

"Baby, calm down." Raihan giggled from above you as he even paused for photos a few times just to frustrate you playfully. You pulled the hood further down your head, still cursing reporters as your boyfriend carried you past them.

***

Kabu × Shy Male! Reader (Sfw)

At almost all times you were sitting or standing next to Kabu. It wasn't that you didn't like the rest of the gym leaders, it was just something you did for comfort.

You were in a meeting with the rest of the Gym leaders, sometimes you tagged along with Kabu when invited. The other gym leaders didn't mind, they were the ones inviting you sometimes.

Right now they were discussing new ways to (as Raihan said it) "spice up" their gym missions. Kabu wasn't on board and it showed.

"Come on, you guys think challengers might not get bored of the same thing every year?" Raihan sighed and sat back in his chair. "Same old thing, I'd be bored out of my mind."

"Good thing you aren't a challenger then." Kabu replied, crossing his arms. His irritation showed to you and you nudged his knee with your own under the table lightly. "Our gyms will be led how we would like, and I like mine. I'm keeping it the way it is."

"Come on, no need to get mad." Raihan chimed back and half smiled. "Either all of us or none."

"I'm keeping mine how it is, I've done too much for it since Opal gave me the gym." Bede remarked.

"Come on, Bede..you're the newest of us, take some advice! Change it up a little." Nessa said and sat up.

"I'll k-keep..mine." Allister stammered out and looked down to the table.

"I'd like to change mine." His older sister, Bea smiled widely and pumped one of her fists up. Raihan high fived her, attempting to now convince Milo and Melony to change theirs.

Kabu's eyes furrowed then he looked towards you, smiling with tired eyes. He playfully rolled his eyes while nodding to the other gym leaders. You giggled quietly in answer.

"Come on Kabu, lighten up. Keep up with the times!" Gordie practically whined out. Kabu tensed up once again, and you could feel his anger rising once more.

"Don't tell me what to do. My gym, my rules." Kabu stood and looked around now with a frown. If provoked, his temper could easily appear. You looked to the other gym leaders, Allister (even with a mask, you could tell) was nervous because of how Kabu could get.

"Ugh. They're just ideas-" Bede groaned sassily.

"They're stupid ones!" Kabu slammed one of his now balled up fists onto the table you all sat at. The gym leaders were used to his hot headed self, so it didn't bother them and they never planned on telling him anything like "calm down", or "be nice."

"Kabs." You stood up, still slightly avoiding eye contact with the rest of them and grabbed his elbow softly. "Calm down, they were just trying to give some advice." The other gym leaders now all looked at you, some with slightly widened eyes. 

Kabu’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink, you could feel the tension in his body go away as you began to rub his arm. He turned toward you and the anger in his eyes was gone, now replaced by warmth when you looked into them. Raihan smirked from the other side of the table.

Kabu grumbled something then sat down, his face burning up. “I-Yeah. He’s right. I suppose I should calm down, you all are just trying to help me. I apologize for calling your ideas stupid.” He crossed his arms and avoided eye contact. You followed and sat back down with him, then looked up and realized all the gym leaders were now staring at you, either with shocked faces or grins.

“I’m so sorry if I interrupted your meeting- I just wanted Kabs to calm down and-” You could now feel your cheeks begin to darken with embarrassment and you hid your face in your hands, not even wanting to finish your own sentence.

“Why are you apologizing? You got Kabsy here to calm down, something none of us could do. And you did it without thinking he might take out a Pokemon and burn you alive or something.” Raihan chuckled and turned to Kabu, with his chin being held up by his palms. “You got a soft spot?”

Your boyfriend scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get on with the meeting, I don’t have time to-”

“For me he does.” You teased softly and took one of Kabu’s hands in your own. This only caused the red in his cheeks to return and for him to hide his face in one hand, groaning. 

“You should come to meetings more often, dear!” Melony practically squealed out, Nessa nodding in agreement. 

Raihan laughed loudly then looked towards you. “No, seriously. Calm your man down sometimes.” He grinned.

“Let’s get on with it!” Kabu said loudly and waved his free hand in the air but was still looking away from everyone to avoid his blush being visible. He didn’t take his hand from you though, now he intertwined your fingers. You smiled a little more at the action and squeezed his hand in return. 

“Alright, Alright...” Raihan bit his lip and reached down under the table only to pull out a folder with a playful squeal.

“Let’s change our uniforms!!” There were chuckles throughout the table of people, and you began to feel more comfortable with all of them, simply by holding Kabu’s hand. He turned his head toward you and smiled a little, as to not make it obvious to the rest of them. 

You giggled again and prepared to listen to Raihan’s bright idea of changing the uniforms with Kabu already groaning when he realized what the younger gym leader had said.

***

Piers × Shy Male! Reader (Sfw {mild cursing})

You sat on a wooden crate besides Marnie, your boyfriend's little sister. You two were listening to him sing to a crowd of Team Yell members and other people from different towns.

The silence with Marnie was usual and comfortable.

"Look at my bro go. Always had it in him, singing." She said quietly and leaned slightly towards you so you would hear over the music.

You nodded and smiled a little. Your eyes couldn't come off Piers, you loved watching him sing. You put your knees up to your chin, and rested your arms crossed on them so they would hide your grin and pink cheeks.

"Still not much of a talker?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah- I like talking." You practically whispered. "Sorry, not really-"

"Hey. It's fine. Piers already told me you aren't that out there. I don't mind some silence." Marnie replied with a nicer tone now, since she meant it.

"Thanks." You quietly replied and looked back to the stage before you heard her speak again.

"What do you see in Piers? You can tell me, I'm not the judging type."

"What do I..see in him?"

"Mhm."

You looked to the stage again and watched Piers interact with the crowd. Your grin widened, you almost never see him smile as much as he did on stage unless he was alone with you.

"I see..a sweet guy. He looks all mean and hard but he's really the most gentle guy I know. He has this smile that drives me wild and.." You took your arms away from your face to talk more clear.

"And? Come on, don't be shy." Marnie encouraged and nudged you with her elbow.

"He's real funny. Piers makes me happy when I'm having a really bad day, he's got this thing to him that I can't stop wanting." You could feel your cheeks turning a light shade of red, and you cursed how easy it was for you to blush.

Piers looked towards you and Marnie and winked at you. Some people in the crowd cheered at the action, a few swooned excitedly. You buried your face in your hands and could hear Marnie laugh a little.

"A-Anyways..he doesn't let anything in his past or present get to him. His music..his music! It's so impressive. He's a singing gym leader. The way he manages both..I just-!" You dropped your knees from your face and squealed. "It's Piers!"

Marnie laughed a little at your excitement. "Anything else?"

"He's..SO cute. Gosh, I can't get over it. We've been together for a while and he still makes me all giddy and warm inside when he smiles or- does shit like that!" You spoke about his playful wink, and you stood up on the crate, not even caring about your fear of crowds anymore. "And I love it!"

The crowd was still practically screaming as the song ended. You cupped one of your hands around your mouth, waving the other at Piers frantically.

"Come on Piers! Give us MORE!!" You shouted out while grinning and quickly caught his and some fans' attention. You locked eyes with him, and made a motion to usher him for another song.

He raised his hand to the crowd to quiet them down then spoke. "Alright, hey. Glad you guys are enjoying the show. It was supposed to stop now but, how am I gonna end this when I got my sweetheart over there asking for more?" Piers nodded to you, causing multiple Team Yell members to turn your way, smiling.

You immediately sat back down on the crate next to Marnie and hid your face. "No.." You protested quietly against his teasing. He knew you never liked the acknowledgement, he just liked making you blush.

"So, Team Yell. I want you to be as loud as you can, this next one is for my cutie. Love ya." Piers adjusted the mic as Team Yell began what they did best again: cheering. They turned quickly back to the stage and you peeked up at Piers.

Your eyes' focus never left him, and you listened intently to his voice. A relaxed sigh left you as you felt yourself being caught up in the music. You and Piers continued to make eye contact throughout the rest of the show, as if no one else was there. The moment was like a trance and neither of you were really looking to get out of it.

***

thank you for reading ! requests always open! just might be a slight wait 💕 - 🥝

[andypantsx3]

hi there !! i hope you're doing well :) ever since i started reading ur fics i've just been really impressed with how u keep the quality of ur content very consistent. do u take breaks in between writing each fic? i think u mentioned this in a previous post when u talked about editing fics, but i guess i'm wondering how u keep urself from being burnt out/if u get burnt out! i'm going thru a slump rn so i'd be curious to hear about ur experience!

Omg thank you so much!! That is literally so sweet of you to say, much as I doubt the quality is all actually consistent—I'm looking at you, in cinders chapter two.🖕🖕🖕

Also please excuse how long this got, I have a lot of thoughts on this subject in particular!!

Personally yes, I do get burnt out, and I do find it very necessary to take breaks—from writing overall and from a fic if I'm having difficulties with it. In general, I try to write a little bit every day, but that’s not always possible, and there are times when that’s not the right thing to be doing.

If you were following me late last year, you may vaguely be aware that I disappeared for two months straight between December and February. Like, just let the queue run through and did not answer a single ask, post a single original thought, or even look at my ao3 comments. While I was gone I barely wrote a thing. I think at like 1.5 months into it, I started drafting the outline for subtle, but before that, I didn't do shit except focus on my personal life and hang out with my dog.

At that point I was just tired and I thought I could use a little recharging to get excited about writing again. I read a bunch of books and other people's fics, and reread a bunch of my old fave comfort ship fics. That break from my own work really helped me get inspired again. Since then I've been consciously trying to strike a balance between writing all the time and chilling/consuming the things that keep me inspired to write.

When it comes to taking a break from fics, I do that too. My Hawks fic lay low has been ongoing since December of last year, when I normally finish fics in under a month. I actually really love this fic, but I got a little frustrated with some plot holes and then again with the pressure I was putting on myself to characterize him (like, relax, Andie it's a fuckin fanfic) so that's been on hiatus like multiple times even though we're only three chapters in.

I think it was important, though, for me personally to take a step back from it until I had the energy to address the things that I wanted to, and until I was excited to write it again. I'm actually finally working on chapter 4 (!!!), but it really took a long time to let that bad boy marinate, and I hope the fic will be better for it.

And I did that with statistically significant as well. This was more due to my workload at my job at the time, and I worked on this one over the course of five months when prior to that, I had been finishing fics in 1-2 weeks. But slowing down and writing this fic over like ten times the amount of time it took me to write other fics was a really good learning experience for me. It taught me that it's totally fine to step away from a fic for multiple months, and that you can always come back and finish it later.

I think that's also going to be the case with the new Deku fic, and I'm happy I already know it's completely okay to take my time. I'm sure there will be new wrenches that life throws into my path, and I'll have to get hit by those and figure out how to get back up and learn to duck next time lol.

Anyway, I definitely get where you are coming from, and if I've learned anything in the year and a half I have been writing it’s that it's totally normal to hit slumps, be they long or short, fic-specific or related to writing overall. Burn-out/slumps are actually not a big deal at all if you don't psych yourself out about them.

I feel like every time I'm asked advice on anything I say this (but I mean it!!): listen to yourself. You know best what you need. If you don't feel like you have the brain power for writing right now?? You're definitely right, and you should take some time away to chill, just consume things without producing, or do other stuff in life that makes you feel good.

If you're two months into not writing and you get excited about a project outside of the one you abandoned?? There's probably a reason. Work on that instead, and maybe let your enthusiasm for that project remind you of what you liked about the other one you put down.

And if that enthusiasm doesn't return? Then let the damn thing sit until it does. There are literally writers I follow who stepped away from fics for YEARS, only to come back and post a new chapter like half a decade later. They are always, always better for it.

So literally just listen to what you are telling yourself, and ride out the slump however you need to. Please try your best not to feel guilty for it, or think that it is any reflection on you or your work. They're just a natural part of the process, and honestly you will be the better for having had this experience.

[tcheschirewrites]

Hey, are you participating in NaNoWriMo? Have you ever? And what was your experience like? I'm considering it but I feel so intimidated because I know I won't be able to commit to it wholeheartedly. Lowering my expectations and pacing myself would seem like the perfect solution but work kills my creative brain cells by the seconds. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of November I've only written half of page of alien language. Any advice? Also does Nano have to be a new project?

Oh man, Nano. I’m well familiar with Nano, and I’ve participated a few times (to varying degrees of success). This got very long, so I’m putting a cut.

The first time I attempted Nano was in 2006 for my novel Seerking. I had heard about it from a friend who was in an LJRP I was in, and she encouraged me to try it. I was still in high school at the time, and very frankly I did not have the dedication necessary to complete it. I got a lot of worldbuilding complete, but very little writing. I got about two pages of prose, and three notebooks of character and setting history, as well as a fairly detailed outline. I still have all of this.

The second time I attempted was in 2009, for a story that is based heavily on the Iron&Wine song ‘Boy With a Coin’. I got a little bit further, but I got stuck in a few places. I think it’s because my idea was bigger than my life experience, and I also got stuck in a lot of small details. Additionally, my first Word document (where I got about two chapters in?) was destroyed when my laptop’s hard drive just straight gave up on life - I did buck up and rewrite quite a bit, though it didn’t sing quite the same notes, and I have this handwritten copy still. (It’s possible I tried again with this same project the year after? I don’t remember tbvh)

My third attempt was in 2011, about a goverment operative and a faun. This one I got the furthest, and I still have the original handwritten draft and the typed copy. I pantsed this one, 100%. To this day, I still don’t know how this story ends, but I’d love to attempt a rewrite someday.

Then, unfortunately, from around 2012 until Fall of last year, I stopped writing period. I was in a real bad situation, and just didn’t have the energy for anything, let alone a novel. My most recent experience with Nano as an organization was Camp Nano, which is a much looser structure, and it is in May and July. Rather than the hard and fast 50k, you set your own goal when you announce your project.

I can understand your hesitance to participate, honestly. Nano is a beast of a project – to reach the minimum goal of 50k in the 30 allotted days, you have to produce 1667 words of new content every single day. This is approximately 3 pages, maybe a little more – which is a lot when you’re already stressed! And if you miss a day you have to adjust your daily totals for every following day, and the pressure starts to mount! It’s a lot, even if it is only meant to be a neat little challenge (mostly, I’ll cover benefits a bit later).

Now, my recommendations are going to follow two paths: planning, and pantsing. If you are naturally a planner – that is, you like having rough outlines, refined outlines, you like having character data, history, etc – then I recommend you have as much of your novel planned ahead of time before November 1st hits. Whatever notes or files you need to have set aside before you begin writing those first words, have them ready – read over them, refine them, and have them memorized front to back so that you know what your story is meant to be. If you are a natural planner, and you have not done this by today’s date (it’s 30 October where I am), then I do not recommend participating this year because it will stress you the fuck out and you might even make yourself sick.

The other popular option is called pantsing – essentially, you have a rough idea, and you’re flying by the seat of your pants. (This is literally what it is called on the Nano website, by the by – there are badges for it and everything.) If you are a pantser, then I still recommend a little preparation, but of a wildly different degree and type: find your story’s ambiance. If you are a pantser, think about what sparked the idea for your story? Try to put yourself back in the place (emotionally or physically) where you had the most intense version of the idea, and hang onto that feeling with both hands. This is incredibly important, because it will allow you to harken back to that feeling without chasing the high of first being hit by that feeling. If you are a pantser, focus heavily on the feelings you want to evoke with your story, and let your heart guide you.

Now the third option (I know what I said, I lied all right) is if you are a combination planner-pantser; you don’t want to have the rigidity of the outline, but you also like having a little bit of structure, or at least a direction to go in. If you are a combination planner-pantser, I recommend doing very soft preparation for yourself in the week leading up to Nano. So things like building yourself a playlist, maybe doodle what your main looks like in your head, or small details like character names and short dossiers. If you’re able, I recommend coming up with an ending, so you know what the end-goal looks like and you are able to track your story’s completion in your head.

For all three, I would recommend deciding ahead of time how you want to write your novel – are you going to type it up in a word processor (please make so many backups, do not live the heartache that I had to)? Are you going old school and hand writing it? Are you feeling like a boss that day and maybe want to dictate it into an app on your phone? Pick one, and make a dedicated space for your novel. You can mix them up, certainly, but make sure that you are able to consolidate effectively or you’re going to stress yourself out.

Now, you asked whether or not it has to be a “new” project. There are actually a few answers to this, depending on what you mean. Now, if we are to assume that “new” strictly means a brand new, fresh idea that you have just come up with specifically for National Novel Writer’s Month 2020, then the answer is no; it does not. Back in the day, there were a few purists that insisted you had to have a designated project every year, but like most purists, they’re just being assholes about it.

As a matter of fact, it does not even have to be a brand new project that you have not written any words for at all – however, if you do have an idea that you have already written for, you are not permitted to use any of your previous word count toward your goal. This is definitely a no-no. Personally, I’ve tried this, and I found it rough – I liked having the designated project, and I liked the buildup to it.

If you have, though, an idea that you’ve worked over and you are simply ready to start putting words on a page, this, I think, is Nano’s sweet spot.

Now, I know most of this 1000+ answer has been cautioning and reminders that Nano is tough – because, well, it is. It is a huge undertaking, and I feel like every participant has their horror stories to tell about their experience. But I want to reassure you that it isn’t 100% a hard slog to a dreary end; there are so many tools that Nano themselves provide you, as well as user-run communities and workshops, and even some benefits after the fact. These are the things I want to wrap this post up with.

Firstly, no matter how tired or stressed you are, if you register for nanowrimo.org, you’ll begin receiving daily emails from published authors and past participants. These range from silly and tedious, to incredibly comforting. My favorite one, which I cannot remember a lot of specifics from, was from a man who detailed his experience and reassured everyone that the work doesn’t have to be good – it just has to be 50k words. That’s it. You can have typos and errors all over the place, plot holes of all shapes and sizes, and a main character who doesn’t make any sense at all; it doesn’t matter, because the point of the event is simply to finish. Neil Gaiman has also said a time or two that your first draft’s only purpose is to exist. Just get the words out; you can fix them later.

Additionally, when you are completing your profile, you can enter in your location and there are designated forums for participants in your area. In the past, there have been meetups for group-writes and workshops as well, though I imagine they will be more along the lines of Discord calls this year. If you are a social person who needs a pair of eyes to help you work through a scene, Nano’s got your back. They will also send you statistics for your area for the average word count, daily word count, past winners, etcetera. It can sometimes feel like you are very alone during this difficult project, but a lot of these things bring a very human element to the event.

Finally, what comes after you have completed. A lot of these benefits are newer than my time, but I browsed through them when I did my Camp Project. When you complete the goal in the allotted time, you get a neat little badge for your webpage and a printable certificate for the immediate boost of dopamine. But you will also get discounts to some neat shit, like different word processing applications (I got 50% off of Scrivener when I finished Camp), as well as things like The Great Courses, discounts in the swag store, etc. But more than that, there are partnering websites who want to help you on the road to being published. Wattpad is in this group, but I believe also big name publishers (I might have seen Penguin on there at one point) are willing to work with winners to get their works distributed.

All that said, I recommend every writer attempt Nano at least once in their writing career. Even if I personally have not done so stellar in the past, it is a fantastic learning experience for all of the work that goes into producing a novel from start to finish – it forces you to know your limits, and sometimes to overcome them. I don’t think I will be participating this year – I have so many side projects that I want to get done, but I will very likely drop everything to do it next year. I have two novels that are real roughly built up that I could do for this, though, and I would love the dedicated time to spend on them.

[malltales]

Queen of Nothing; A Story of Redemption

(This story is based on real events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent and ridiculous.)

By April of 2020 I broke up with my partner of 5 years, lost my best friend; 13 year old dog, Jasper. All within the context of the global pandemic.

Bike touring was something I've always wanted to do but scared to attempt alone. I managed to talk my old friend, Kevin and his girlfriend, Ava, into a 5 day bike tour from Pittsburgh to Washington, DC on the GAP and C&O trails.

It’s important to know that Kevin and I had been friends for almost a decade, and I had yet to meet Ava in person. Kevin and I had been roommates for several years, on and off. We also suffered a dramatic falling out that resulted in us not speaking for almost 3. I assumed since we reconnected, he had grown.

Day 1: Pittsburgh to Ohiopyle

The first day of the ride was the last day the three of us were together. Kevin and Ava were packed to the gills with panniers and rode fast at the start. I hung back, averaging 11 mph. Ava circled back several times to check in. We talked the whole way and made fast friends.

Kevin stayed far ahead until we reached our lunch stop. After which, he lost steam quickly. He'd only done one long ride to prepare and never ridden with fully loaded panniers. Which is like saying you trained for a 5k and then decided the day of the race to strap a 40 lb bag to your body.

I tried to hang back and ride alongside Kevin for a bit. I offered a draft he could pull from because I was still feeling strong. “Just go ahead.” He said. “I just need to be at my own pace."

Here's the thing, everyone hits a point in a long bike ride where they start to ache and fatigue, especially if you aren’t used to riding for a long time. I was fully expecting some super cranky moments from all of us, including myself, but I was not prepared for it to happen this early.

Ava and I stopped a few times for snacks and to shake the ache out of our hands and butts. We took a detour to spelunk our way through a crumbling, abandoned warehouse, filled with graffiti and paraphernalia of angsty teens’ hideaway. Kevin passed and said nothing. Twice, we found him lying flat on his back in a field, smoking a cigarette, complaining that something hurt and he needed a break. Every time we found him, we stopped, asked if he needed anything, asked if he wanted us to wait and every time he said no. So, we soldiered on. Although Ava and I worried about Kevin, we heeded his words and assumed he just needed to power through and be left alone. AVa and I kept each other motivated and the mood light. We sailed through burnt umber rock formations. Gentle streams coursed through them like veins.

87 miles into our longest day, we reached the town of Ohiopyle. The last glimmer of sunset was fading quickly. Ava and I arrived first. We had a daunting 3 mile, 3,000 ft climb yet to go. Kevin arrived shortly after, hopped off his bike and ran into an ice cream shop. He walked across the street and began whispering to Ava, while I glared at the map. I could tell by the body language he was not happy. Ava started to cry. I called out: "Listen, we are all tired and starving. Whatever it is you guys are debating should wait till we climb this."

Kevin scoffed and walked away. I waited a few minutes and asked Ava how I could help. She was crying and explained he was upset that we "left him behind." He said she "abandoned him.”

I was instantly furious. This rhetoric was painfully familiar. Flashbacks of past arguments flashed through my brain. I did not take deep breaths, I did not pause; I marched over to Kevin. (If you have never seen an adult angrily eat an ice cream cone, I would highly recommend it.) Standing by a river, licking his moose tracks he yelled at me. He tells me that I also abandoned him and left him out of the group that he was "working so hard at keeping together." I laughed, I couldn't help it. I figured if I laughed, Kevin would realize how utterly absurd this was. All I could think of was a hot shower, food and bed. He got angrier. I understood that nothing in this moment would get through to him, so I threw my hands in the air and said "The reality is, you got smoked by two chicks because you didn't train. I'm sorry your ego is bruised. I'm going ahead."

I walked back to Ava, apologized for making things worse and asked her if she preferred to bike with me to the house or stay with Kevin. She opted for the latter and I forged ahead.

It was 8:30pm. The way ahead was pitch black, up an incredibly steep switchback. It was a two lane, country road with no shoulder. I tried my best to stay on the bike, but after half a mile, I gave up. I started walking. My legs could barely take the climb on foot, my calves were cramping, my thighs were shaking. Every time a car whooshed by; I froze against the guard rail. I only had two small lights and was unsure if I could be seen at all. I begged the universe to send someone to offer me a ride. I pleaded with the coyotes howling in the distance not to come nearer. I shrunk at the Trump signs on the rolling, rural properties. After an hour and a half of walking, one foot in front of the other, with a small blinking light on my back. I finally made it to the Aribnb. I immediately hopped in the shower, ready to be greeted with luxurious, warm water. NOPE. Ice cold. I got clean quickly, started the food and cursed the fact that I let Ava carry the whiskey. Kevin and Ava arrived shortly after and we all went to bed without saying much at all.

Day Two: Ohiopyle to Frostburg

The next morning, I woke up energized. The house was quiet and no one was awake. I had time to slip out. A wave of relief ran through me. I began packing my bike, made coffee and realized there was only one bike: Ava’s.

All Kevin’s stuff was gone and so was he. I contemplated my choices: sneak into Ava’s bag, find my extras in her panniers and tip toe out before she woke up OR wait for her. I didn’t know Ava well, but I didn’t feel right leaving my new friend in the mountains alone.

Ava woke up and described the fighting and frustration that ended with Kevin packing his stuff and heading out on his own at 4am. I was well-acquainted with this kind of performance and lacked the fortitude to deal with it. Ava asked if we could ride together. I agreed, with a condition: we would not spend time discussing Kevin.

By the time we stopped for lunch, Kevin had sent scores of texts. Ava read them to me. I lifted the embargo for lunch because I knew she was feeling anxious. The tone of Kevin’s texts were hostile and accusatory. Ava listed things she could have done differently. I assured her she did nothing wrong. We cried. I shared my experiences from the past few years, which were mirroring hers. After leaving this kind of maltreatment in my past, I would not tolerate it from anyone else.

The 67 mile ride we completed that day was difficult and long. We were slow and sore. The gradual and consistent uphill of the pavement pummeled our strength. In the end, I’m glad Ava and I rode together, even though we started late. She helped me keep a much better pace than I would have on my own. Our pleasant conversation ended abruptly when we arrived in Frostburg. Kevin was texting; demanding to know where we were. He had been there for hours and wanted to check in. The hotel reservation was a tiny room with side by side beds. Ava told me she didn’t have the money to book another room. There was no way I was about to share a room with this dude who left his girlfriend with a literal stranger in the middle of nowhere. So, I bought them their own room. I threw the keys at Kevin on my way out and biked an extra two miles, uphill, to get Epsom salts. It was 9 pm when I finally unloaded everything in my room. I was elated when I got in the shower and felt hot water. I was so tired I could barely think, but I was so happy with my decision. $200 for peace was a small price. I reviewed the day in my head and was proud. When you’re demanding so much of your body, you must ask yourself every step of the way: what do I need right now? Most of the time the answer is simple: food, a break from the saddle, water, a quick stretch. But sometimes it’s hard to parse out which of those comes first. I congratulated myself for surviving the emotional cyclone going on around me. I was asking myself what boundaries I needed to finish this trek and make the most of it. I went to bed that night, again, with the intention of leaving in the morning on my own.

Day 3: Frostburg to Hancock

The following morning, I woke up to a text from Ava that read: “he broke up with me.”

On a bench, in the cold, we drank coffee and between sobs, she filled me in. He left early in the morning without a word. With 71 miles in front of us, I was nervous. Ava was exhausted. She could barely string a sentence together. I offered to pay for another night at the hotel for her to rest until she figured something out. She said: “I feel like I have to get to Hancock tonight to work things out. If I don’t, that will be the end of us.”

I was heartbroken, but I knew this feeling too well. When the misery you know seems better than the unknown. I saw myself reflected in Ava’s tear streaked face. I sat exactly where she was 3 years ago. I knew the terror. I wanted to tell her everything I knew from the other side, but I knew she couldn’t hear it. So, I nodded my head and said we needed to get on the road.

We left behind the mostly paved GAP trail and continued on the dirt C&O. It was gorgeous. Ava helped me let out air from my tires for the new terrain and gave me pointers for dirt riding. I was grateful for her presence, but I knew her head was spinning. It was not as grueling as the previous day, but we were both dragging. We made a lot of stops to rest. 50 miles in we realized we missed the town we had planned to stop for lunch. We were running out of fuel to pedal. We ended up at a trailer-turned biker-bar, covered in Trump flags. It was our only option. Biker dudes on the porch were laughing and pointing. Calling us “monkey masks.” Inside was a totally different story. Everyone was friendly. We ate and drank and left remarkably unscathed. We only endured a few rape jokes from drunk townies on our way out.

The last 20 miles were brutal. I was struggling to stay in the seat. It was dark and my light ran out of battery. We put our phone flashlights on and stuffed them into our bras to light the way. Deer skittered across the path a few feet in front of us and we leapt every time. Ava told me Kevin got them their own room and I sighed with relief. She asked how we would approach the following day. I told her she didn’t need to worry. They would go their way and I would go mine.

Inside my comfy, roadside motel room I was faced with yet another challenge. The three of us were supposed to end our ride in DC and train to Baltimore where I would stay with Kevin and Ava for two days. This, obviously, was not going to happen. I quickly had to figure out where I was going to stay, with barely any internet, no motivation and about an hour before I succumbed to sleep. I text Darren, a mutual friend, who lived in DC. I explained I needed a place to crash, even if it was just one night. He agreed and I fell asleep in ten minutes. I had one more hurdle to deal with: find a shop to ship my bike from DC to Chicago. Darren came to my aid again and offered to take my bike apart and ship it from his place.

Day 4: Hancock to Harper’s Ferry

Being on my own felt like pure freedom. I was on pavement for the first 10 miles. It was bliss.

I set off slowly and adopted a new mantra: hustle hard when you can, rest when you can. My legs were tired but knees weren't aching as much and my hands were going numb less.

In Williamsport I found stairs leading down to a long, concrete dam that extended far out into the Potomac. The sides were slanted toward the water. It was the perfect height to dangle sore feet in the cold water. I sat, legs outstretched at the top of the dam. As far as I could see from left to right was water. The Potamac seemed never-ending. This was an expansive feeling to digest with my newly thawed breakfast burrito. I felt sluggish and heavy after my peaceful lunch views. The day before, Ava kept me at a steady pace and I missed her company.

Then came a long stretch of trail that rode along the very edge of the water. I ambled slowly upward then back down. I felt lighter and my ride smoothed up. The trail trickled back into the woods. I clipped my way along loping curves. The Potamac peeked from behind trees just beginning their transformation toward fall colors. I had to talk myself out of stopping every mile for a picture.

Toward the end of this 6 hour day I was rewarded with longer glimpses of the Potomac through the trees. Vignettes of the river were dotted with burning red leaves and outlined in ochre shadows. The large juts of slate erupted from the middle of the rapid, splitting the river. The river deepened and I knew I was close to Harpers Ferry.

I approached a 5 story, winding staircase, directly in front of the sunset, hoisted my bike onto my shoulder and climbed. Huffing and puffing, I nearly doubled over at the top, but the view snapped me out of it. The Shenandoah and Potomac rivers were merging beneath my feet. Civil War ruins dangled on two slate islands to my left. I felt like I was standing in the middle of the world, alone with this gorgeous vista. And I arrived powered by my own two legs.

Pulling off the bridge I pedaled through the cobblestone streets. I was pleasantly surprised that the inn I was staying at was not far and not up a hill. I decided to forgo a shower, change my clothes and head straight over to a restaurant. After a glass of wine and a plate of pierogies, I watched the sun set over the town with the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers roaring beneath it. I felt so thankful; I arrived in time for dinner and a sunset.

Day 5: Harper’s Ferry to Washington, DC; The Final Leg

Alright so here’s where everything gets wrapped up with a neat, little bow, right? Almost.

It was the last day. Only 63 miles; the shortest ride yet. I wanted to savor it. This was the only part that felt like a vacation. I used the heavy fog covering the town as an excuse to walk around and explore.

Harper’s Ferry is the most charming town. Thomas Jefferson described the scene as "worth a voyage across the Atlantic" in his Notes on the State of Virginia. It’s also the mid-point of the Appalachian trail, which I stumbled onto while climbing the steps of a church. I was stunned, breathing in the moment. I thought of everyone who trekked this way before me, when our country was so young.

At about 9am, the fog was rolling out and so was I. I was on top of the world. Nothing hurt, I was cruising at a good speed. I had all the time in the world to get to DC. Darren was going to meet me on the trail at 6pm and ride with me to his place. I was hoping to be done at 4 and happily awaiting his arrival with a beer in my hand. A 10 degree drop in temperature and rain didn’t dampen my mood. I felt free as fuck.

After an hour of solid rain, the sun shone through and warmed everything up. I sloughed off my raincoat and started my Spotify. I was laughing at my luck and singing along with First Aid Kit’s “King of The World.”

And then….POP. Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.

I skidded to a stop. A giant nail was right through the middle of my tire. Deep breaths. Ok. I can do this.

I sat down on the ruin of a guesthouse by the side of the trail and started working. If you’ve ever changed a brand-new bike tire you will understand what I was up against. It’s not ideal when the rubber is new and unworkable. A white-haired man in a yellow safety vest wandered over to inspect my predicament. He introduced himself as Don. Don was my grandfather’s name. When Trail Don shared that he was also a retired veteran, I thought for sure my grandfather sent him. Don “helped” me get the tube in with a screwdriver and promptly popped it. I only had one tube left. There wasn’t a bike shop for 40 miles.

“I live about 20 minutes down the road and I got all the tools in my garage. I’ll take ya back there and get ya fixed up and back on your way.”

On the road to Don’s house, in the middle of Trump country, my thoughts were racing. When we pulled up, a welcome sight greeted us: a giant rainbow flag and a lawn littered with human rights signs. Ok, I thought, I think I’m in the right place. Relief swept over me. We changed the tire and I met his kind wife, who offered me a sandwich. We loaded up and drove back to the trail. I thanked him profusely and began my last 30 miles.

The day was replaying in my mind and I felt my heart overflowing. This was indeed the culmination of my independence. Even if I did need a little help from friends and a few strangers. I was relishing the solitude, but it was a huge comfort to know there was a friend on the other side of this journey with whom I could share my triumph.

The sun sank slowly in the orange sky over Rock Creek Park. The frogs started chirping as the stars steadily emerged. The clouds unleashed a downpour. I saw a bright headlamp and familiar face coming toward me.

I made it.