#and my friend sent me a link to a writer group...

[l-heure-du-the]

nothing is quite as depressing as being out at your workplace and everyone using your proper name and pronouns...

and then your boss goes "good job ladies" including you

and your coworker and you talk about hormonal mood swings and she goes "men don't understand what we go through"

and then and then and then

again and again

i present as a trans man at work because i didn't want to risk them gendering me as femme at all

i can't imagine how much worse it'd be if i'd openly spoken about being nonbinary

[takes1]

omg if ur requests r still open… let me start off by saying i ate your tsukki series right up it scratched my needy loser itch SO WELL 😭😭 so much so im coming to you as a woman and begging you to do a needy oikawa scenario headcanon fic ANYTHING!!!! like i’d love a pathetic loser oikawa whos like perchance… crushing on one of the members of the girls team of seijoh…? 🫢

i’ll literally take anything u write atp that tsukki series was so fucking good that i literally put off studying for my finals to wait for ur updates instead 😭 i hope u know ur an excellent writer n wish u a very well day!!! 🤍🤍

god this request made my damn dayy!! ilysm. you're the best. i'm so glad you liked the tsukki series!! i've been waiting around for people start requesting! i love writing needy men, they're so dynamic

warnings. none. sfw, but hard-on mentioned so minors DNI info. hq fluff / yearning / needy!oikawa / loser!oikawa / volleyball team!reader / ace!reader / kind of popular!reader / oikawa getting hard talking to you / oikawa crushing / seijoh losing a match / iwa being a good friend / 1k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open and empty, so give me some ideas pls!

"Come on, dumbass- the bus is here," Iwaizumi reached out to grab Oikawa's wrist to keep him from lingering any longer at the entrance to the gym floor.

"Give me two seconds," Oikawa spat. He swatted away his teammate's attempt to haul him from his vantage point.

Iwaizumi sucked his teeth and muttered something under his breath.

For once, Oikawa didn't pay it any mind. He had to see you spike. He had to watch you win.

The ball spun up, perfect and slow for your setter- his clammy hands clenched at the soaked number on his jersey. You leaped up for it. He froze that moment in time, your perfect form, perfect body, perfect force, all sculpted for this sport you both loved and dedicated yourselves to. It was a frame he could worship until the end of time.

You gave a brutal and strong slam, clean and cutthroat, that connected to the linoleum on the other side of the court.

"YEAAAAHHHHH!!"

The cries of the audience, your team, a double whistle, and the pounding of his own heart for you filled his ears. He couldn't hear the reinforcements Iwaizumi had sent to drag him away so they could leave.

It didn't matter now.

None of them were in the mood to entertain his sensitivities, since they hadn't had as much luck as you against Karasuno.

That being said, he wasn't the only one who was happy the girl's team had managed to make it. It made their group jogging back to catch the bus just a bit less out-of-sorts.

Though his plan was to speak to you first thing that next morning about the match, it never worked that way.

You were the epitome of untouchable, surrounded by many friends and always smiling at something they said to you- he couldn't stomach the possibility of you not smiling at him the same way.

But you were magnetic; as soon as he gave up on the line he prepared for you, he would watch your perfect smile light up the room and have a brand-new, better one.

Yet, a mere, "Hey," Was all he could manage on his best days when your teams switched for practice, between his own admirers never leaving him alone, and your always-occupied attention.

He wasn't enough to catch your eye.

That alone stumped him, because he never had a problem with this before you.

There was a noisy little songbird outside the window, right next to him on the other side of the glass, practically egging him on.

His gaze flitted from the bird over to your desk for the final, innumerable time that class. The heavy head in his hand tilted, studying the way you played with your hair, in hopes to replicate it.

God, if you were his, you would never have to worry about brushing it. He'd be at your beck and call, anything you needed, he would search Heaven and Earth for it.

He sighed through his nose, hand over his mouth.

There was a pain in his eyes.

You copied the last few pieces from the textbook to your notes and brushed away some eraser marks from your desk. A steady, cute, focus on your brow.

The bell rang for lunch.

A fluttering of wings and the bird he was watching was far away now, soaring through the partly cloudy sky. He turned back to you and his heart sank.

There were already guys at your desk congratulating you on your win.

You grinned and mentioned your team's hard work, casual and cool, and took your lunch out as they walked away.

He couldn't let himself be forgotten. With a bit too much enthusiasm he stood and his chair scraped the floor, loud.

Only a few people turned to look and you were thankfully not one of them.

No time to think-- just going for it, he belted out at the side of your desk,

"I saw you win the match."

What the fuck did he just say?

You glanced up at him. He didn't mean to say that, exactly. He should've just said congrats. His face filled with struggle.

"Oh!" You wiped your mouth, "Yeah, I saw you guys walking out, I wanted to talk to you!"

He stumbled over his words, unable to think clearly enough to take a second to breathe, "Y-eah, the bus- was there--."

"The girls watched you guys, too. I'm sorry about what happened."

His face was starting to get warm, and just his luck, two of his most common groupies were stalking you with dark looks at the door. He was fumbling so bad. Of course you watched him lose.

You looked down for a moment, "That was a tough match."

In doing so, you remembered that monster serve that made you jump out of your seat.

You giggled, "Oh man, but that serve of yours!!"

His chest puffed up, filled with a newfound pride that mended every lackluster attempt he ever had at getting your attention.

"That was so fucking cool!"

Heat crept up his neck, goosebumps all over his arms so bad he had to cross them. He was blushing ear to ear.

A choked sound preceded his uneven voice, "You saw that?"

"Y-eaaah, I mean," He was making it worse already, but you were grinning up at him. How could he not keep trying to impress you?

"-They're better way better at practice, ya know."

"Oh, yeah?" An unwanted, deep voice egged on from his side.

He jumped away from Iwaizumi, whom he made plans to meet with for lunch, now standing with his arms crossed and an unimpressed brow line.

You both shared an amicable wave before he slapped a broad hand on the back of Oikawa's neck to direct him away and let you eat in peace.

It was arguably in his best interest, but Oikawa scrambled out of his grip as soon as he was in the hallway, pissed that he was abducted just as it was getting good.

"The fuck?" He snapped, rubbing the hot spot just under his hairline.

Iwaizumi, not about to tolerate his attitude like he did yesterday, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He started walking towards their usual spot with a smirk that his friend couldn't see.

He called over his shoulder, "You should really tuck that, dude."

The few students in the hallway watched his back, some in amusement, some in carnal curiosity, as he panicked for a moment, faced a corner -beet red and muttering-, and did just so.

my masterlist.

please send requests!

thanks again anon for the send, hope you like!! <3

[tteokdoroki]

˚✧₊・🍉 — SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA !

hello everyone!! i wanted to join the writing project ficsforgaza with the intention of raising more awareness and hopefully donations for the ongoing cause. i am a little slow on writing but hopefully this will motivate myself and others for a good cause <3!

rate: $1 USD per 100 words !

instructions: please follow this link and donate to a vetted fund of your choosing. after doing so, send an off-anon ask to myself including the following: a redacted screenshot as proof (hiding any personal information), a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to, the name of the wip you’re sponsoring.

example: hi aali! i have donated to help mashael and her family. i would like to sponsor an alternative to grief [ screenshot showing $5 usd has been donated - equivalent to 500 words ]

i will not be publishing asks, but for transparency, will be keeping a record of evidence to send to @ficsforgaza — this is to ensure individuals are not reusing screenshots sent to myself or other writers. the wips will be updated regularly.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 wips disclaimer ! - they are below the cut.

there will also be a donation goal for each wip just to ensure that I don’t get overwhelmed! i work full time and write a little slow, but the main goal is to raise awareness and donate to an important cause. there are various lengths available, subject to change but dont worry if i don’t have anything you fancy! please check out the other authors who are apart of this project!

note: minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, nsfw and dark content is included in the wips below.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 current wips available !

an alternative to grief; katsuki bakugou.

tags ! pro hero!bakugou, nurse!reader, strangers to lovers, dating after loss, children, therapy, grief, hurt comfort, fluff, angst, smut + part one of three.

with the sudden death of your husband, you find yourself alone with a son, angry at the world and in the corner of a therapy group specifically for grieving spouses of pro heroes. it isn’t until you lock eyes with a familiar, formidable red that you come to realise… there is happiness after death and alternatives to grief.

current word count: 7,545/10,000+

donation goal word count: 580/5,000

my doll; eijirou kirishima.

tags ! pro hero!au, soft dom!kirishima, dumbification, dollification, smut + dark content.

eijirou kirishima was born with an innate desire to protect, to give, to dominate and perhaps that is why he slowly begins to take over your life, treating you as though you’re some dainty little doll…belonging only to him.

current word count: 2,647/3,500

donation goal word count: 1,000/1,000

something i thought belonged to me; izuku midoriya.

tags ! pro hero!au, college!au, strangers to friends to lovers, coming of age, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut.

after abandoning your dream school to start anew and get away from your shitty ex, you adopt a stray l cat to cope with your lonesome…only to find out the pro hero exchange student next door has had the exact same idea.

current word count: 134/15,000+

donation goal word count: 2240/5,000

swingsets; yuuji itadori.

tags ! college!au, small town!au, summer romance, coming of age, first loves, self discovery, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut, part one of many.

everyone always says you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. but life moves quick and yuuji itadori has only one year left of his degree to figure out what it is that he wants. making it big in the big city of tokyo isn’t all what it’s cut out to be, so he decides to return to his roots, and indirectly, return to you. OR a jjk small town!au where each sorry connects to another. this is the story of yuuji itadori, reconnecting with his first love.

current word count: 0/20,000+

donation goal word count: 1820/5,000

other ways to help can be found here and here.

— all rights reserved © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-2024. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[transmasc-wizard]

Writblr Intro •°☆

it's me! I live! hi again :)

[ID: an aesthetic photo header of books, a sweater, a typewriter and a candle at a window. end ID]

ABOUT ME:

You can call me Beck or Nathan, I'm a teen writer who used to be really active back in 2021/2022 but had a. really. really long writing slump... 😔. but I'm back now!! (I was chaotic-queer-disaster.)

I love fantasy, horror, and queer stories. I also explore disability a lot in my work as someone with both born and acquired disabilities.

some of my favourite themes to explore are identity, loss/grief, hope, friendship, gender (especially in horror), the challenges of morality, and mental illness

I'm looking for fellow writers to talk to and uplift! I'm especially looking if you're any of the following: queer, disabled, teenaged, horror writer, or fantasy writer. (But all are welcome!)

My main projects are under the cut :)

[ID: a dark academia aesthetic photo of a pair of glasses on a cursive-written letter. end ID]

My Projects:

Bad Things Happen - an apocalyptic horror novel. After a party, three young adults get into a particularly nasty car crash. It rips a small hole in the universe, and they begin to be plagued with identical strings of bad luck. Their luck gets worse and more expansive every day, and soon they're fighting to stop the world itself from decaying around them. [Status: draft zero.]

The Other Ones - a half-epistolary horror novel. A group of true crime podcasters go into the strange forest on the edge of town to investigate a disappearance from 2 years ago, only to emerge hours later--covered in blood, no memory of what happened, and accompanied by the missing girl. [Status: outlining.]

Suicide Ghosts - a film script about a trans boy who is sent to an all-girls school and makes friends with the ghost girl who haunts his dorm room. As the school year goes on, they discover corruption, more hauntings, and the horror of holding identities you never asked for. [Status: outlining.]

Untitled Fairytale WIP/"gfs" - YA fantasy series with dystopia undertones. If you've been around for awhile, you'll remember it as GFS/GFW1! A group of teenagers discover they're linked to an ancient prophecy that states they're cursed to awaken gods who have slept since the last divine war. If this happens, desolation is inevitable. They must find a way to avert the prophecy--while an unidentified figure is doing everything in their power to make it come true. [Status: rewriting/reworking.]

If you've read this far, thank you! I'm really glad to be back and I hope to have a lot of fun in this community again :)

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 7 Pt. 1

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy and Jake have a conversation. Natasha plays wingman.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

The house smelled delicious, I had spent the last few hours making the perfect bolognese sauce, homemade focaccia, and I had tiramisu ready in the fridge for after dinner. The Daggers were coming over for dinner and I had received a dozen texts from the group about how excited they were to have a home cooked meal, it made me feel good. The day was perfect, Cassandra had given me twice as many pages as I had anticipated, all of which I sent over to my agent to read. For once in my life, everything seemed to be falling into place. 

“Honey, we’re home,” Rooster was the first through the door, the rest of the group trailing in after him with shouted greetings and proclamations of how good everything smelled.

“Wash up, everyone!” I shooed them all away from the kitchen, even Natasha who pouted at me, but Jake just grabbed my hands, pulling me to him. He kissed my temple,

“I missed you.” 

“It’s only been a week,” I rolled my eyes but wrapped my arms around him, relishing in the warmth rolling off of him. Sure, it was largely my fault we hadn’t seen each other, dodging his texts and coming up with excuses not to go to the Hard Deck but that didn’t mean I hadn’t missed him. 

With everyone laying into me about how much Jake and I should get together, I needed a few days to breathe and sort through my own feelings about him. Plus, Cassandra really had been chatty this week, giving me a valid excuse to stay away. I raised up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his jaw, “Wash up, Jake. I’ve got to finish setting the table.” 

I pulled away but he pulled me back, pressing a long kiss to my forehead, sending my stomach into a nervous frenzy.

“We’re going to talk about this later.” I nodded, looking anywhere but him. I could feel his eyes on me as he washed up in the kitchen sink while I finished setting the table, even as the others filed back into the room. 

“Thanks for dinner, Daisy,” Bob gently squeezed my forearm with a smile.

“I already made you a take home box for later, it’s in the fridge.” Bob’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“Do I get one too?” Rooster threw an arm around my shoulders, “I shot down three of these guys in training today.” 

“I’ll give you an extra helping of dessert, Roo.” I patted him on the gut, “Now-”

“Now, we take our hands off the little lady,” Jake pulled me away from Rooster, “And sit down at the table.” 

“Who says the little lady doesn’t want my hands on her?” Rooster asked with a grin and Jake dug his fingers into my hip, staring down his friend and roommate. This was…a first. I’d never been stuck between two guys like this before and it had officially rendered me speechless. Luckily, Bob had my back.

“Alright, let’s not do this,” Bob pushed Rooster towards the table filled with trained naval aviators who all needed to take an acting class.

“Come on,” I patted Jake’s hand, removing it from my hip. “Let’s eat.” 

After dinner everyone spread around the apartment, Javy, Rooster, and Bob were playing video games in the living room, Phoenix was arguing with her mom over the phone in the kitchen, the rapid mix of Spanish and Italian giving me flashbacks to when Natasha failed a midterm sophomore year. Cassandra had started to speak again and Jake had accompanied me to my room, laying on my bed while I wrote. Once I reached a good stopping point, I turned to find Jake under the covers, reading one of my New York detective books. 

“You took your boots off, right?” He grinned, putting the book down on his chest.

“Want to come check?” 

“You’re an idiot,” I laughed, stretching as I stood. “And a cover hog.” 

“I can share, Wildflower.” He held up the other end of the blanket and against all good judgment, I climbed in with him, snuggling into Jake’s side. “How are you feeling?” 

“Sleepy,” I stretched an arm across his center, my fingertips coming in contact with his bare skin where his shirt must have ridden up. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m good, sweetheart,” Jake kissed my hair. 

“You like to use nicknames a lot,” I muttered, tracing circles into his side. “Is it because you guys use callsigns at work?” He didn’t say anything and I found myself filling the silence. “Like, do you use them for everyone? Do they mean something?” 

“Are you asking if I call everyone sweetheart, sweetheart?” I tensed, was that what I was asking? Shit, it was. Jake didn’t seem bothered, running his fingers up and down my arm soothingly. “Well, there’s a ranking for things like this. Honey, darlin, and sweetheart are low hanging fruit, I’m from the south after all. Next up would be personal nicknames, based on things that are specific to them.” 

“Like Wildflower?” 

“Yeah, like Wildflower. I thought about calling you kitten too,” I cringed,

“Please don’t.” Jake shook with laughter,

“Next, every guy has the one name they use that’s reserved only for girls he’s serious about. Also, I don’t have nicknames for you, I have pet names, there’s a difference.” 

“What’s your one name?” I needed to know, my curiosity more than piqued at this point.

“Jake.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” I pinched his side. 

“No need to get rough, Daisy.” He kissed my temple, “It’s baby. I don’t ever call girls baby.” Oh. My heart dropped to my stomach, a heavy but oddly comforting feeling settling in my chest. Jake’s heart was beating loud and fast beneath my head, he was waiting for me to say something. If I did, it could change everything. If I didn’t, we could lose it. That’s what time did, it stole things away from us. I took a deep breath. Fuck it. 

“You call me baby.” 

“I do.” 

“I like when you do.” 

“Good,” He kissed my hair again, “I wasn’t planning on stopping.” After a moment he added, “You ready to talk about this, baby?” No, I was not. I moved away from him just enough to see his face, which was soft and unguarded. I took a deep breath, consciously dropping my own walls. The phrase now or never seemed a lot scarier when the now was now. 

“The idea of whatever this is scares me,” He cupped my cheek but stayed quiet. “And honestly, I don’t know when I stopped thinking you were teasing me and started believing you were actually flirting, but-” I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment to gather some courage. “But I’m right here if you’re here with me. Does that make sense?” 

“Perfect sense,” Jake leaned close, his cologne surrounding me as his lips brushed against mine. Then again more firmly. His lips were warm and soft, moving gently against mine, his hand sliding into my hair. Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading through my body as the kiss became more feverish. I parted my lips, letting him deepen the kiss as he laid me back onto the bed. 

“Jake?” He moved his kisses to my cheek, then my chin, and my neck, making my head spin. “I have a house full of people downstairs.” 

“Yes, baby?” His lips found a spot on my neck that made me gasp and Jake focused his efforts there, lavishing the spot with his tongue and teeth until I knew there would be a hickey the size of a bowling ball there for the next week. “Fuck, you’re making such pretty noises for me.” 

“Jake,” I whined, digging my fingers into his side, “We have to stop.” 

“You’re right, we do.” Jake gave me three quick kisses before rolling back to the side, “Because when I get to do what I want to do to you, you’re going to wake the dead with how loud you’ll be.”

X

A/N: This chapter was longer than I realized and I had to break it into two parts

Part Two

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @cinderellasmissingshoes @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink

[thedemoninme141]

Love Me Leave Me.

This is not my writing id, I don't even write. This story was 3/4th written by my late best friend Celine, this is her id, she wrote all the stories here. She took her own life on August 20th, Her life was complicated and I do not feel comfortable sharing it with you guys, What I can share is what she wanted me to share, Her last wish in her last letter was to finish all her unfinished stories and give you guys all the love, I tried my best giving it the ending she instructed me to do, I am not a professional writer but I tried my best to finish her starting. I hope I did justice to her works.  I had a few errors autosaving this work on tumblr. I don't know much about tumblr so the better version of this story is in her AO3 account , I would recommend reading it there. Here is the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/50014339 Celine's Works are here.

2 months, It has been 2 months since you came out as a lesbian and Wednesday, who tolerated you all year already hates you for it. You never thought someone's sexuality would affect Wednesday so badly that she had unleashed a torrent of hatred you never thought possible from someone who had tolerated your presence all year.

As the truth spilt from your lips to your so-called "trusted" group of friends, the fallout had been swift and merciless. Enid, who had been your last tether to friendship, now wore a pained look in her eyes, brimming with pity and sorrow.

Your friends, once close allies, had turned their backs on you. The very bullies you thought you had escaped, the ones Wednesday had once saved you from, now saw an opportunity. They hurled cruel words at you, shoved you into the girls' restroom, and locked you in there, leaving you to fend for yourself. The sight of creepy-crawly creatures, the same ones that had filled you with dread, now invaded your room. Someone had left behind intentional proof as footprints of a disembodied hand and a pair of boots.  All these horrors could have been reported to Principal Weems, but you refrained. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, and the pain that once cut deep had numbed over time because you found another pain that cut even deeper. You found a solution, to cope with this pain, you found a greater one. A blade was all you needed, you had a collection of them already in these 2 months. Each cut, each red line, became a lifeline to relief from the relentless suffering that now consumed your existence. No one knew, not even "Detective all knowing" Wednesday, of course, you hid them in the bathroom.

The relentless bullying persisted day after day. Katherine and her siren friends, fueled by cruelty, would taunt you mercilessly in the school hallways, their taunts occasionally escalating to physical violence, leaving you sprawled on the unforgiving ground. Strange as it may sound, those physical bruises didn't hurt. What did hurt was when you entered the classroom an unknown disembodied hand dropped a bucket of real human blood on you. The classroom erupted in a chorus of cruel laughter, and even Wednesday had a smug smile on her face. She never smiled, did she? unless she was truly at peace. So yeah, you getting hurt gave her joy. The cuts were deeper that day but you were careful not to cut any vein, You had a collection of jackets now, without them you couldn't go to the classes now. You would love to cut yourself to shreds in front of Wednesday if it gave her joy, cause you loved her, she was the reason you were finally brave enough to come out.

Wednesday despised you, you made her do something she would never do, you made her hurt you. She hated how you were braver than herself to admit your feelings. Falling for someone was never part of her plan, yet you had made it happen. She resented you deeply for that, a resentment that drove her to darker actions. You hated spiders, you used to tell her how creepy they looked. You hated blood, it sent chills down your spine. You hated cuts, your pain tolerance was lower than 0. You hated bees, So she set about crafting a sinister contraption in your bathroom bathtub, a jar brimming with bees, poised to unleash their torment upon you the moment you unwittingly opened it. Her twisted plan was a desperate bid to make you feel the same way she did. That's when her eyes went to a small box, and as always curiosity filled her mind, She took the box carefully and opened it, only to find razor blades, a lot of them, and a small knife. Some of the blades had stains of dry blood on them, the blood on the knife looked recent. Always wearing jackets... Wednesday ran, she ran and ran, she had to find you, wherever you were. I love coffee, just not as bitter as you. Your voice ranged through her head. I really wish I could see you smile Your smile ran through her head. I love planting flowers, the blooming flowers make me happy. Now you wouldn't bloom yourself anymore. No no no, Wednesday didn't mean it, she couldn't know, she never thought you would turn to this way to cope with this pain, she had to find you, She had to find you, no matter where you were. She sprinted through the courtyard, desperately searching for any sign of you. Wednesday spotted Enid engaged in conversation with Ajax. She hurried over to the pair, her desperation evident in her voice.  "Enid, have you seen Y/n anywhere?" Enid's anger flared at the mere mention of your name on her lips. "Why? So that you can hurt her more?" Enid had held her grudge against Wednesday ever since the bullying had begun. "No, I..." Before Wednesday could explain herself, her gaze shifted, catching sight of you entering the school gates, a shopping bag in your hand. Without thinking, she sprinted towards you, her heart pounding. But you backed away as soon as you noticed her approach, and Wednesday couldn't help but notice the profound sadness etched in your eyes – the same eyes she had avoided for the past two painful months. "I need to speak with you," Wednesday implored, her voice trembling with sincerity. "No," you replied firmly, attempting to walk away and put distance between you two. "Please, this is important," Wednesday persisted, her desperation driving her to reach out and grab your arm in a plea for your attention. You walked as fast as you could to your dorm, You can't feel like this anymore, you have to get to your room and cope. Wednesday followed you, determined to talk to you, she can't let you cut any more.  "Y/n please!" She begged. You didn't even look back, She ran in front of you making you finally stop. "What do you want from me?" You asked, tears in your eyes, your voice broken with sorrow. The bag held close to your chest made Wednesday doubt. She looked at the empty hallway to make sure that it was only you and her and then snatched the bag away from you and emptied the contents on the floor, painkillers, sleeping pills and a new sharp knife. All the things that she liked, yet she felt so much dread in her heart. "I am sorry." She whispered, her voice shaking, You hurriedly picked all of them up before anyone could show up. "Show me." She said as you stood up. "Show me what I've done." She said as she tried to grab your hand, "Please don't." You said. "SHOW ME WHAT I'VE DONE." She said gritting her teeth in anger, but not on you, never on you, it was on her own self. She slowly grabbed your hand and took it up to herself, She removed the jacket sleeves slowly to see your arm filled with dozens of cuts, some deeper than they should've been. "Please." You cried now. She let go of your hands as she was frozen in her spot and you ran into your room.

Tears weren't stopping. Maybe another Tears weren't stopping. Maybe another Tears weren't stopping. Maybe another Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. Tears weren't stopping. Maybe a little bit deeper. The tears finally stopped.

Outside your door, Wednesday's voice trembled, the weight of the past 12 hours pressing down upon her. She cleared her throat softly before speaking. "Y/n," she said, the sound echoing through the stillness of the corridor. "I know you're in there." A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she continued, her words tinged with vulnerability.  "I am sorry, for everything." Admitting her own emotions had never been her strong suit, but she realized that acknowledging her mistakes was the first step toward repairing the damage she'd done.  "I understand that some things can't be fixed, but maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to mend what's broken and hold it together." Wednesday's voice wavered as she opened up further, her admission of feelings a rare glimpse into her inner world.  "Y/n, you made me feel things – things I've spent my entire life running from, things I've been terrified of. I never wanted to become like my parents, but now it seems like embracing those emotions might be worth it, especially if it means being with you. I was too blind to see it, too wrapped up in my hatred for love, but I know you feel the same for me. Please, just let me in... Please..." Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her, but she refused to give in to her own weakness. Wednesday's heart ached as she contemplated walking away, but then, a sudden, painful sting in her chest stopped her in her tracks. "Y/n, at least answer me, and I won't bother you anymore," she implored softly. "Y/N," she continued, desperation lacing her words, "Tell me to go away, and I will leave, nevermore, if you ask." But the only response was silence, hanging in the air like an unbreakable barrier. With trembling hands, Wednesday retrieved her lockpick, a skill she had mastered long ago. However, this time was different, her hands shook as she struggled to unlock your door. After a few tense moments, she finally succeeded. What she discovered inside, though, was more than she had braced herself for. There you lay, eyes closed, seemingly at peace on the bed, although only peace was in your expression. The room was stained red, with your blood marking the bed, the floor, and the glinting knife nearby. Even your hands bore the evidence of your anguish, but what struck Wednesday the most was your serene smile. Approaching cautiously to your lying figure, She didn't need to check for a pulse to recognize a lifeless body, but she did it anyway. She wanted to hope and she needed you. But she found none. "I am sorry," she whispered, her voice broken with regret. Her gaze shifted to the heavy sleeping pills on the floor, all still intact. It became clear that you hadn't chosen this method. You chose the painful one, leaving the easy one for her, Good. Enid and the others looked for you and Wednesday, when they found you two, you two were finally each other's, holding each other, your arm on Wednesday's waist, her arm on yours, Wednesday laying on your chest, peacefully, cause she finally found her final home.

Alternate Less Sad Ending Author's note: For Celine, the most heart-warming and accepting person I knew, I would try to write and alternative good ending to this story if you guys want. For her recent readers, Did I do it right to her style? 

[mercurygray]

I've seen a couple of writers on my dash, new and old, getting discouraged about a drop in writing requests, or wondering why no one is sending them, or asking if they're doing something wrong because they feel they're being ignored.

I don't know if this helps at all, but it took a loooong time for me to get to a place where people send me prompts. I had to cultivate it and be intentional about it and I'm really lucky that now I've got a group of people who ask me things!

Firstly, the askbox is not always open. (I mean, it is, but it also ...isn't.) I'm always very specific about when I want requests, and I try to give some parameters, like a list, or a specific set of characters. I realized that as a reader and a friend when someone just said 'I need prompts!' my mind went blank and I didn't ever send anything. So I make a special post, and I give my guidelines, and a link to my character list, and I try to set expectations about what I will do and I won't do. When I do this, it helps me set up where my heart is in the moment, so that hopefully I'll get something in that moment that I really like. And it's like a little event! And people who know me and know my characters get excited!

The heart part is important. The love needs to be there, or otherwise it's just...noise.

I'm also not above asking my friends specifically for things! "Hey, I want to write X and Y today and I'm thinking about this AU. Can you help me? Here's a list." It's like a random generator with more oversight.

On a related note, I also had to give myself permission to say 'You know what, I don't think I can do anything with this' and delete some of them. It doesn't mean I value the person who sent it any less. This is a regular part of my guidelines.

I've been doing this for four years now, so regular followers to my blog now know exactly how this works but I also have a regular tag I use for this work, and there's this body of old work that new people can look at, too, to see what kind of writer I am. If I'm seeing someone new in a tag I track asking for prompts, I usually go to see what else they've written. Will I like their work? Is it easy to find things they've done before so I can see what they're like as a writer?

I also try to pay it forward as much as I can by sending requests to other people when they ask for prompts. I know that sometimes when I ask for requests, it's because I'm lonely, or I'm having a bad day, and maybe that's where that person is when they ask. I try to keep a running list of different writers and friends' characters. Maybe not all of them, but two or three that I know I've enjoyed reading before. It's a way to know your neighbors and your neighborhood.

And this is maybe going to be a spicy take, but - fandoms now seem to have life cycles, and the simple fact is that there is a sharp drop in interest after the show goes off the air. This is why cultivating community is more important than ever. The people who give me prompts are often friends who've come with me through several fandoms, not just my most recent one.

[minheeskitten]

back but with a question; would you perchance have any favorite fics and/or writers !!! since im getting back into reading / always curious what everyone else likes :] (group does not matter, my stan list is very similar to yours dhdjfjekfjekfnekfjek) —☕️

Oh boy, fav writers and fics.. Thats a tough one since I don't often branch out of specific fandoms ( i am working on it!)

I read a lot of kingdom works. A lot of them. I have probably read every single posted kingdom smut piece there is. I started writing them bcs there wasn't enough. A lot of cravity as well, and some ateez too. Onewe and Oneus as well. But they aren't as popular so there aren't nearly as many fics as id like. Gotta write em i guess haha

But here is me shamelessly promoting my friends and mutuals.

Intenselysalmon on Ao3 is good. They're a friend of mine who made me go batshit insane over Arthur.

Yami0204, also on ao3, is good too. Even if you don't normally read sfw fics. PLEASE READ LEGEND OF KINGDOM AND ITS SIDE STORIES!! IT IS GENUINELY SO GOOD I WILL READ IT TO MY CHILDREN.

^ She's another friend of mine, and if you ever see a tag with 'Auntie' in it im hoping she sees that post. (Hi Auntie @kurenaiwataru I know you'll see this!)

@kingdoms-babygirl and @karmacumover have some excellent works, and also have a series together, and it is SO FUCKING GOOD. Their separate works are also amazing. I do forget to talk with them often but they're both great writers. Im a little intimidated by how good they are at times

In general a lot of my moots tend to be writers. I have a moots list if you wanna go look at them! They're all really good!

( @yourfatherlucifer aka Felix has the best Ghoul Hongjoong smut and OH MY GODS!! I need more.)

(@potatomountain is also damn good! Please go check them out!)

I also have a fic recs tag for fics i read on here i liked or thought felt needed extra love! It is just straight up 'fic recs <3'

In general I don't read as much as i want to, and i feel like my skills are slipping because of that so. Do reccomend me any fics from my stan list as well! I do prefer Ao3 but i will read on Tumblr too!

I've read some good fics over the years but in general more specific fic recs are difficult without knowing someone well.

If it helps, i am always on the lookout for good writers!

I tend to struggle to find non afab x reader, so i read more member/member stuff purely because i prefer amab characters to represent me. So if you find any, do send it to me! I always link fics or anything sent to me!

[ahaura]

(Dec. 8) by Mahmoud Alyazji

Article title:

Refaat Alareer taught life

Article text:

The inspiring writer and educator Refaat Alareer has been assassinated by Israel. (Via Instagram) 

I remember how Dr. Refaat Alareer entered the classroom.

He immediately put a few books on the desk. They included Gaza Writes Back – a collection he had edited – and Rifqa by Mohammed El-Kurd.

Dr. Refaat always carried them around. They were a part of his identity, as a reader, writer and storyteller.

He introduced himself, said a few things and told a few jokes. He listened to what we had to say, then took Gaza Writes Back in his hands and started to read aloud.

His face lit up; his eyes opened wide.

He really captured the essence of “Omar X,” a story by Yousef Aljamal.

Dr. Refaat told us that he recently bought a car. The worst part about doing so was that he couldn’t listen to the stories of taxi drivers in Gaza any more.

“I could spend hours just looking at beautiful sentence structures or reading stories,” he said, smiling.

Another favorite hobby of his was making memes. He encouraged us to be similarly creative.

My first impression of Dr. Refaat was that he was different in a good way. His enthusiasm was real.

I had never been able to concentrate properly during a three-hour lecture until I attended one of his.

He taught me creative writing.

He taught me poetry.

He taught me Shakespeare.

He had a profound connection with modern plays and poems and taught them in a funny and interactive way.

Encouragement

When I remember Dr. Refaat Alareer, I don’t just remember him as someone who worked at the university. He was someone who taught life.

He was my friend. Someone I looked up to – like a father.

Even in the darkest of times, he would check on me and other students. He told us that if we needed anything, please let him know.

The last time he texted me via WhatsApp was on 27 November.

He reproached me for not publishing anything since the beginning of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. And he encouraged me to write.

On 3 December, The Electronic Intifada published an article I wrote titled “World shrinks for Gaza’s children.” I sent Dr. Refaat a link to it but I wasn’t sure if he saw my message.

I have subsequently learned, though, that he reposted a link to the article on Twitter. When I saw that, I couldn’t help but cry.

You believed in me, Dr. Refaat.

You believed in the strength of words.

You told us, “If I must die, you must live to tell my story.”

You always gave me confidence and strength.

I was over the moon when you asked me to deliver a class when you were sick.

I remember when you edited my first story and said, “I see a writer in you.”

You always paid attention to the details.

You shared my first published story on a WhatsApp group before I had even told you it was published. “Good job, Mahmoud,” you said.

You made me a writer.

You were the best teacher I ever had.

I will always be proud to have been one of your students.

I miss your lectures.

I miss the comments you wrote on the right hand margins of our papers.

My eyes filled with tears while I was writing these words. But I wiped them away and continued writing.

You are not dead, Dr. Refaat.

I promise that I will always write.

I will fight with my pencil and my poems.

I will never forget how much you brought to my life.

You will always be my inspiration.

[suzyq31]

Example of what Harmony authors face

Hi,

I know a lot of you who follow me or are mutuals in this space are more Jily writers/readers. But I just want to share an example of the reasons I'm no longer comfortable engaging in the main Harmony fandom space run by HMS Harmony. I'll be blocking and deleting this user/commenter. I did however want to post this here as a concrete example of why it is that I'm not eager to continue and will be focusing on writing other pairings.

Also want to reiterate that I am not against discussion of fics, I just think entire post dedicated to talking about what we dislike about a fic in public fandom spaces don't adhere to a culture of kindness or respect. Fandom is about having fun, engaging with something we all love. That doesn't mean we all have to like the same things. But I also think we can do better about treating each other decently. I have not sent a single person after this user, or to attack any moderators of these groups. But again, this is the response and while I haven't been there to see it, I do know that I'm being dragged on there. Which does make me afraid to speak up, but sometimes we have to do things or speak up even when we feel anxious about further retaliation.

One last thing about fandom culture/critique. I saw a post on here that I'll try to find again that basically said that fics aren't a meal at a restaurant where you pay and specify what you want. They are more like a home cooked meal. If you don't like it that's fine, don't eat it, but you also don't need to throw it back in the person's face. So anyways, this wasn't the best way to start my morning but I'm going to focus on the positives in my life, like going to a job where I get to plan Harry Potter themed activities for kids ❤️ Hope you all have a lovely day!

The comment can be viewed below:

Let me say this as clearly as possible and hope you don’t construe this as disrespect for the sake of disrespect.

Get over yourself. Really, do that.

Your entire author note is self contradictory to the point that it makes me laugh. You said it wasn’t meant to cast blame but you posted the link to the thread I made on reddit. You said you don’t always expect the internet to be a safe space yet you’re trying to make it that way by not only brigading your friends and supporters against the mods but making an author note to air your own grievances about a thread that did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to rip apart publicly and regularly.

If you think I’ve ripped apart BFL with that thread then I shudder to think what you’ll think when you see something actually being ripped apart. What I did was voice my confusion and frustration at not being able to understand what that story was trying to accomplish. What I did was seek out others to either see if they felt the same or see if they felt different to me. You conveniently ignored that latter part.

And now you’re giving yourself time and grace to make a decision on what you want to do in the fandom. So with all due respect again, GET OVER YOURSELF. You post a work into a public space and expect it not to be critically discussed? The absolute worst thing I could have done was “RiP aPaRt” BFL directly in Emerson’s thread but I didn’t. Instead I went to reddit and sought out others in the community to try and understand. The fact that she ended up seeing that and then announcing that she’s leaving the fandom just to put heat on me is crazy but I’ll let it slide.

I honestly do not know what I could have done better other than shutting my mouth and saying nothing but the truth is that I was a fan of the author and I absolutely refused to believe the story she put out was what it was. Do I regret offering up a discussion on Reddit? Hell no. I wanted to understand so I sought understanding.

Another contradiction. You said you were no God but you are a human but yet you’re asking others to change the subreddit to what you 🫵 want it to be. You want it to be changed to an echo chamber where sensitive people like you won’t be exposed to criticism or discussion of your work. The same bloody work you posted on a public site to hundreds, thousands, of readers. Give me a break.

If you’re so afraid of negativity, as you call it, then may I suggest a policy of perhaps not being on Reddit and not seeking out posts that discuss your work? It’s either that or get over yourself and roll with the punches.

Discussion isn’t always going to be complimentary or kind. If your work is controversial, best believe it will be discussed. And make no mistake, I DISCUSSED BFL. Never once did I levy harsh accusations or insults just because I didn’t like the story. The fact that it has 41 upvotes and counting echoes that. So many people agree with me and I love it. I think that’s what Reddit is about. Promoting discussion and understanding of things.

Once again, please either get over yourself or adopt the fanfic author’s sacred mantra: “Don’t like, don’t read.” You don’t like the way your work is read and discussed, then leave. Join a new subreddit that is the echo chamber you want it to be. Or even leave the fandom like your friend Emerson did. Join the Dramione community because apparently their subreddit is better than Harmony’s according to all yous. Or even join the Nevmione subreddit, I’m sure they could use a few more authors and are “nicer” than Harmony.

Make a note of how stupid and unfair it sounds when I tell you to do all of those things. Make a note of how you feel when I say them. And then ask yourself why “don’t like, don’t read” is a bullshit rule. You can’t just decide to fully dislike a story without reading it all the way through. Stories get better and they win you over as you read them. The fact that BFL didn’t do that after I read it 8 odd times is a testament to me trying to find some positives because that is who I am..

That being said, continue to give yourself time and grace after you read this. Give yourself both of those things which, honestly, could have saved BFL if Harry was given some of it.

[brujitaadinbo]

Hello to all those who read me and have interacted with me. I come very upset to expose the FARCE that is the SCREEN RANT site a whole garbage tabloid site that has been harassing Din and Bo's relationship since the beginning.

Pure garbage that they upload, as well as those that share everything they upload, without first investigating, like Mando updates.

Yesterday on this podcast they interviewed Brendan Wayne and from minute one, SCREEN RANT changed everything that Brendan said, everything, to their own convenience, making a trash and yellowish note, about how "Din and Bo don't have a future Romantic.

Thanks to my friends from the "Bokadin witnesses" group, we saw how this mediocre site has dedicated itself to uploading FALSE AND MODIFIED INFORMATION from interviews like the ones they "supposedly" did with Katee, which practically changed everything she said, to only expose with great lyrics "that there is no romance between din and bo" which, it has been said It was not a romance as such, because it is impossible to skip steps to make a love affair, but there was romantic interaction and winks.

Now with Brendan's interview they did practically the same thing. I'm not going to share anything from this trash site because it's like giving them publicity BUT I'm going to leave the link to the original interview so you can see that those who lie are those from SCREEN RANT

I thank Julieth for passing on the sensational story so we could address it and dispel the myth. And I thank Morita Moraima, a great writer from Bokadin and an important part of "Witnesses of Bokadin"

Technically Brendan in the interview; He talks about how Din Djarin has become a more human, more open and expressive person, that in the boat scene, when he swears loyalty to Bo katan, they wanted to leave that in print, that thanks to Grogu that change is taking place.

That the romance was not planned but it came to light and he pushed harder for the moment to happen, that he wanted to knock out Bo Katan with his own feelings, that she knew them; that there were several shots where Din is crying with the helmet on, then you can see the intensity in the air of a Din in love with that woman and who does not want her to be depressed or lost in her misery and then another shot where Din is angry with her and disappointed (and in the end we are left with that precious oath he made towards her and that is there, only to her)

And that Brendan expresses what he feels to Bo, as if he were talking to his wife.

And they are not my lies, it is in the interview. They want to provoke hate, they can go to hell because there is something very important IT IS CAPTURED IN SEASON 3 Bo Katan at that moment on the ship feels excited and surprised and with no other character that has been sent to her, she has seen herself like this, with none. only with Din djarin.

I can only tell you; Stop giving credibility to hateful, tabloid and lying sites like ScreenRant… disgusting pages. And stop sharing information that is not confirmed by tabloid and clickbait sites like Mando Updates. I don't care if it bothers you. It is more annoying and hateful to profit from people with gossip and lies.

This is the way…

[bardofavon]

strawberry and knife for ask game

hello hello!!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

so actually when I was a wee tiny little Meg (like….12 years old) my friend sent an email to a group of us like “look, I’m published now!” with a link to a fanfiction she wrote on fanfiction.net and I opened it and went “THIS IS A THING????” I wrote my first fanfiction (a very cliched Percy Jackson truth or dare fic) and made an account to upload it the day I turned 13 (according to site guidelines) and the rest was history.

it was terrible but for some reason people liked it and that was enough to get me addicted to the high of having my writing validated, but also people were MEAN to 13 year olds writing bad fic on the internet so I also got some brutal critique. The unstoppable power of writing 3,000 words a week at 13 years old + the regular criticism + the regular validation made me improve at a STUPID rate. I genuinely owe so much of my current skill to the fandom climate of ffn in the early 2010s lol. the maximum ride, marauder, and pjo fandoms were not prepared for me 😂

Once I moved fandoms my engagement dropped and I had a hard time writing fic without engagement so I focused more on my original projects (and wrote 5 novels, two screenplays, and a handful of short stories💀) before finding my way back to fic via A Good Myth and now here I am.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I spent HOURS researching domesticating wild wolves so that I could write a 2 sentence long metaphor with little plot significance. lately I’ve been balls deep in researching gym-bros for one scene that’s entirely unnecessary to be set in a gym but that I decided to have in one anyway. for reasons. I’ve never been to the gym idk. also researching medieval torture methods and how long it takes for blood to replenish but I feel like every writer has been there so it’s not THAT weird.

non-fic related….I also had a theory I wanted to do research on for my demonology class in college that demonic possession, ppl who claim to have interacted with fae, and alien abductions were all the same phenomenon being interpreted differently based on the worldview of the people experiencing them and I was deep in that rabbit hole for like a MONTH before I realized it was too hefty for an undergraduate paper and switched to the demons of the apocryphal texts instead.

writers truth or dare game

[elizmanderson]

2023 wrap-up, part 2

click here for part 1 | click here for part 3 | click here for part 4

let's talk about some of the reading I did this year! I don't read as much as I used to, and I'm constantly torn in like five different directions, because. on one hand. I am a chronic rereader. I just want to reread my favorites over and over and over and over and over and

but on the other hand, I'm a writer. and I should be reading new releases to ~keep up with the market~ (or support friends with new publications, or just because new releases look cool).

but on the OTHER other hand, my tbr is five miles long, so I really feel like I should be reading all those books that were new releases 5-10 years ago that I never got around to reading

so let's talk about one of each that I read this year

a reread

thanks to finding out about an upcoming film adaptation of Scott Westerfeld's Uglies, I reread Uglies and Pretties this year for the first time since high school! I reread the series several times back then and loved it but hadn't read it since. pleased to announce that I enjoyed it a lot despite the 15 years that had passed since my previous reading

now I gotta procure a copy of Specials, and then I guess I'll be reading Extras actually for the first time ever, because I never read that one back in the day

link to Uglies on BookShop

a new release

partly as a result of being in a group of debut authors and having a lot of friends to support, I read many new releases this year! but a top new release was definitely Priyanka Taslim's The Love Match, an Austen-esque Bangladeshi YA romcom with a FANTASTIC love triangle (and I say that as someone who isn't particularly into love triangles). she really kept me guessing until the end of the book!

link to The Love Match on BookShop

an older release

this was the year in which I finally read Madeline Miller's The Song of Achilles. it made all my friends cry, even the ones who don't normally cry at books. it did not make me cry. I found it deeply satisfying despite being so soft that I once sent @victoriacbooks in ahead of me to make sure a book did not end sadly before I read it. not sure what that's about, but the point is, I enjoyed this book even though I did not cry lmao

link to The Song of Achilles on BookShop

upcoming books I'm looking forward to

(book titles link to the books' preorder pages)

Kamilah Cole's So Let Them Burn (YA fantasy)

Mo Netz's The Lumbering Giants of Windy Pines (MG fantasy)

Gabriella Buba's Saints of Storm & Sorrow (adult fantasy)

Trinity Nguyen's A Banh Mi for Two (YA romance)

[queenimmadolla]

Hi! I just wanted to ask how does one become more inclusive with there language not just in writing but in life as well. I grew up in a conservative area where a lot of issues were never directly addressed and I feel like a lot of inherent racism was passed down. I’m trying to really hard to unlearn those learned behaviors, and educate myself in being more inclusive and forming my own thoughts and ideas. I wanted to know if you had resources or ways be more inclusive.

Now that I am out of that environment. I realize how warped that way of thinking was, and how it fostered an elitist mentality. I really like how you advocate for inclusivity. I feel like other writers no shade to them take a proactive stance on this. Anyways hope this wasn’t weird that I word vomited on you. I really love your writing!💗

This is a very hard topic, and I don’t want any hate to be sent your way because I have witnessed first hand how racism is taught from parent to child and roams through families, I live in a conservative town, too. My number one recommendation to break free from the inherited racism, those learned behaviors and hateful assumptions is to go out into the world with an open mind about the things your town looked down upon in that way.

Allow your friend group to be a diverse one, I know you’re not going to go out and try to offend them, if it ever happens, just explain yourself and let them educate you, but know it is not their responsibility to do so. I can tell you always had a feeling, always felt something was wrong amongst your conservative town because you knew stuff wasn’t being discussed, wasn’t being addressed and you left it and you sent me this message. That feeling? Go with it. Trust it. That’s probably who you were before you were taught those things.

Here’s a link to one of my favorite articles about how to be an ally by Nova Reid.

[ryanhamiltonwalsh]

MORE BOB DYLAN IN BOSTON IN ‘63 MATERIAL PART ONE -->

Today it was my pleasure to share a story about an eventful weekend Bob Dylan had in Boston sixty years ago this week over in the Boston Globe. Thanks to everyone who read, shared, and sent along kind words. The Globe let me go loooooooong, and yet, there was still lots of interesting things we simply had to cut for space. Here’s some of the cut material, plus images and links we couldn’t include, too.

Why the name error? Likely just some residual confusion from the pre-Columbia Records era where Robert Zimmerman had indeed toyed with using both spellings of the soon-to-be-famous moniker.

A 1962 Michigan show also used this spelling. Thanks to author Elijah Wald for helping me make sense of this! Here's one opinion that thinks the 'Dillon' spelling was an homage to a Green Bay Packer. But Wald's guess is that this spelling was an homage to "Gunsmoke"‘s Matt Dillon.

ABOVE: Broadside lets the cat out of the bag about the April 19 + 20 Dylan show. The Brandeis Folk Festival performance two weeks later became an official release in 2011.

Ok, so now for some weirdness that is sure to spark curiosity. The great David Wilson runs a wonderful Broadside group on Facebook. When I got going on the story, I searched for posts that mentioned Cafe Yana. I found David saying something curious in 2011:

So, I read this and get dizzy. Is there a full tape of one of the Yana performances? When asked today, Wilson believes he was confused about this earlier online assertion and that he must have been thinking of a different tape. Either way, when reached for comment, Geoff Muldaur stated, “I trust Dave’s memory, but I have no recollection. It was the Jug Band days and the party was on.” So, it’s a dead end, but sure to fuel some conjecture out there in Bob-world, for sure, yeah?

While his first LP only contained two originals, almost all of these new tracks were “Dylan compositions”—quotations are employed here to indicate that Freewheelin’ marks the blossoming of Bob Dylan’s extremely elastic interpretation of what it meant to be the ‘writer’ of a song, nicking old melodies here and lines of verse there, sometimes in alarming quantities, both from recordings and his folkie friends. In the big picture, this is simply how the folk process works, and in the organic, non-commercial world of the genre, for centuries, this is how it evolved and was sustained, and no one ever, er, thought twice about it. But as Dylan’s compositions started to turn into hits, and hits begat huge paychecks, many in the folk music scene began to look around and ask, “Wait, is this how it works?”

For instance, one song he learned from Von Schmidt in Boston, “Baby, Let Me Follow You Down,” was a highlight of Dylan’s debut album, but it also led to one of his first run-ins with questions of authorship where lawyers got involved. On the one hand, Dylan couldn’t be more clear about it, speaking over the introductory chords on the recording, “I first heard this from Rick von Schmidt...I met him one day in the Green pastures of Harvard University.” But when Dylan suggested to Rick that he should be getting some money from the sales of his album, Rick explained how he had based it on a song by Blind Boy Fuller titled “Mama Let Me Lay It on You.” Dylan’s legal representation responded that von Schmidt was correct, that he had no claim to the song, and then proceeded to copyright the composition entirely to Mr. Dylan.

Just a few weeks before Dylan’s shows there, Café Yana had been raided by the Boston police narcotics squad, nabbing songwriter Mark Spoelstra (the witness to Bob and Kweskin’s song-off) along with some members of the audience for possession of marijuana. Poor guy, he had just moved here!

SCENE SETTING: Friday April 19th, 1963 was Patriot’s Day in Boston and Paul Revere’s infamous freedom ride was reenacted by Lt. Ben White. Belgian athlete Aurele Van Den Driessche had not only taken first place in the Boston Marathon, he also set a new record. At Fenway Park, the Red Sox bested the Detroit Tigers in both games of their heated double header. Over at Boston College, preparations were being made for President Kennedy to observe the college’s 100th year with some remarks to occur the following day. It was mere weeks after The Boston Strangler’s latest victim, seventeen days before his next, and the $5000 reward for his capture wasn’t resulting in any new leads. Meanwhile, across the Charles River in Cambridge, professors Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert awaited news of their professional fate after controversy arose around their experimental decision to give Harvard graduate students mind-altering substances including Lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) and psilocybin in pursuit of the secrets of human potential.

Below, Bob reads about himself in the Oct 30 ‘63 Broadside of Boston issue backstage at Jordan Hall on 11/2/63.

Fast forward to 1965: Dylan is back in Boston to perform with a full electric band at Back Bay Theater at 209 Massachusetts Ave. David Wilson told me that earlier that day, before the show, Dylan and Bob Neuwirth showed up at the Broadside office and proceeded to just devour all back issues of Broadside, reading as many as they could, making comments to each other about this and that. They were there for hours; Wilson had some nice conversation with Neuwirth, but barely a word with bookworm-Bobby. At the end of the afternoon, BD asked Wilson if he was coming to the concert. Wilson said he had given the newspaper’s comp tickets to a writer who would cover it. Dylan said he wanted Wilson to come too and could leave tickets for him at the door. Wilson politely demurred saying, “Well I’m sure it’s completely sold out by now.” Dylan again insisted that Wilson should come see it. Finally, he agreed, “yes, please leave me tickets and I’ll be there.” Dylan, now satisfied, departed. Later that night, Wilson showed up at Back Bay Theatre only to find no tickets were under his name at the door.

Part II is here.

[randomwritingsfortheworld]

States

"48." Steve answered with confidence.

Bucky stared at Steve in disbelief. "There are 49."

"Hawaii is a territory."

"Hawaii? I was talking about Alaska." Bucky frowned at his friend.

Steve furrowed his eyebrow in confusion. "What the hell is Alaska?"

"The 49th state." Bucky gave an exasperated groan as Sam leaned against the wall watching the two argue with a half grin. 

"I have never heard of it." Steve crossed his arms as he eyed Bucky. "Where is it?"

"By Russia."

Steve narrowed his eyes at his friend. "How do you know?" 

"How would I know?" Bucky stared at him long and hard in annoyance before Steve realized it was a stupid question. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "They sent you to Alaska?"

"No." Bucky sighed heavily. "But they did tell me the U.S. got a new state across the ocean from Russia and I may be sent there."

A heavier silence fell between the two of them before Sam spoke with a wide grin. "There's 50 states now." The two looked over towards him in mild annoyance. "Hawaii and Alaska are states. I can pull up a map and show you."

"When did Hawaii become a state?" Steve frowned. "After the war?"

"I think so." Sam pulled out his phone to look it up. "Says August 21, 1959."

Bucky made his way over to Sam. "What about Alaska?" 

"January 3, 1959." 

Bucky grumbled. "They told me almost 2 years later." 

"What else have we missed?" Steve sighed as he pulled out his small notebook.

Sam shrugged as he put his phone away. "A lot. You guys missed 70 years of history."

"What do you know then?" Bucky crossed his arms as he studied Sam curiously.

Sam rubbed his chin in thought. "Well we landed on the moon and-"

"Wait the moon?" Bucky cut him off with an astonished expression.

Sam gave him an annoyed scowl at being interrupted. "Yes, the moon."

"How?" Bucky perked up in interest. Sam groaned, knowing it was going to be a long conversation.

Hello! First time writer here on tumblr! If you read this far, thank you! This piece is going to be part of my drabble series where I post random mini stories on other platforms like ao3 and Wattpad. Feel free to follow me on one of my other profiles to keep up with the Marvel group living in a world where Endgame happened but no one was lost in the battle. My other profiles are linked in the bio on this blog. I hope to see you again! :)