#constructive criticism (well hopefully anyway)

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Undertale Yellow: An amazing fangame with one glaring thing I hate about it (that I need to rant about or else I'm going to go insane).

As the title says, Undertale Yellow was a game I really enjoyed playing. Lots of fun dialogue and designs, utterly fantastic art and animation (holy hell that Flowey fight! <3 <3 <3), great music and feels, etc. Seriously it deserves a ton of praise, not only as a fully completed fangame that took years of development, but as genuinely amazing prequel to one of my favorite games of all time.

...Unfortunately. Much as I truly enjoyed playing through the majority of the game, when I finished the True Pacifist route I was intensely unhappy with how that went and while the credits scenes and funeral for Cover helped ease some of the worst of it, I cannot help but wonder who the flipping f$%& in the development team thought presenting Clover's suicide as the 'just and happy' ending that all the friend characters accept with barely any argument was a good idea?!

Now to clarify: I went into Undertale Yellow knowing that Clover was going to die and that there were good odds their death was going to be self sacrificial or involve suicide. Undertale Yellow is a prequel to Undertale after all and children being murdered and/or sacrificing themselves for the greater good of lovable monster kind is an established part of the setting.

I came in knowing this game was bound to end tragically. I was excited to see how this game would pull that inevitable tragedy off while exploring the Yellow soul's theme of Justice and staying true to Undertale's established canon.

And all the way right up to the end of the True Pacifist ending I truly thought they'd nailed it: The constant pressure of the monsters suffering and being trapped in the Underground despite their sweet and earnest natures, Dalv's clear issues regarding a human, Starlow's unintentional reinforcement of the 'one sacrifice for the greater good' idea with his trolley problem reenactment, the repeated back to back betrayals from characters who should be friends (the Feisty Five, Starlow, Ceraba) hurting Clover instead, the dull realization in universe for Clover that all their efforts to find the missing human children were all for nothing...

It was fantastic. There was a real sense of looming dread for me, seeing all those moments and just knowing in my gut that after the desperate struggle with the agonized and grieving Ceraba, ranting about how monster kind is doomed as it stands, that Clover would start thinking of sacrificing their life for monster kind, especially when their 'sense of Justice' at the start of the game had them willingly jump into a gaping pit they couldn't have possibly have known the height of, for the sake of mission they (according to Flowey) easily abandon when offered a loving home instead. (aka implying not so great things about how much they value their own life)

So. With all that 'hyped for tragedy' in mind, there I am at the True Pacifist ending. I've just spared Ceraba, the friends are all arguing as to how to keep Clover (and possibly any future humans who fall) safe and Clover begins to go into something of a zone out, thinking about all the things they've heard and seen over the course of their adventure.

This is it! I think to myself as I watch it play out. This is where Clover, after everything they've been through, makes the tragic yet understandable mistake of running away from their friends and confronting Asgore just as Flowey kept encouraging them to! Not to fight and bring Asgore to justice but to try talking him down and when they fail that, offering up their life to help and 'save' their friends even as the narrative will (matching Undertale) will make it clear that this is a mistake and only hurts everyone involved, just like every suicide and child murder in Undertale hurts everyone involved until Frisk is able to end the cycle of pain by rejecting the Kill or be Killed premise and setting the monsters free! Wow, I can't believe it, they set it up so well, what a perfect way to tie into Undertale's greater narrative via tragic prequel, I love this eeeeee!

Except of course that's not what happens.

My first hint something is off is when the quotes Clover's 'remembering' in their little bubble start being way too positive for the set up (also there's nothing from the trolley problem section). The second is when the music shifts from quiet to holy and then outright happy.

And third is when Clover snaps out of it and point blank tells their friends they choose to die. Now, I'm getting a little confused and wary at this but alright, this is a pretty long sequence already but I guess we get to have one final hope moment before Clover somehow gets away from their friends to die (maybe Flowey if not Asgore?)-

-and then I am left absolutely flabbergasted as the friends who just spent the last huge chunk of the game trying to protect Clover/getting talked out of killing them because 'its not right' end up agreeing with Clover's decision after a pitiful amount of arguing against it (where the utterly stupid 'there's no other option' reasoning is used as the primary reasoning despite all the other options being very clearly stated just moments ago), before the woman who's entire massive trauma arc that is centered around her accidentally killing her own child out of blind faith for 'the greater good', proceeds to assist Clover with their suicide (who she clearly views as a surrogate child despite her best attempts not to) while the other characters meekly say goodbye, give hugs and leave all while bittersweet but mostly sweet 'great job honey, this sucks but we're proud of you' music plays (also Flowey says stuff but like, its Flowey so frankly he could say anything and it'd be fine. He's not the issue here).

...Wow.

What a screwed up way for that to end. Like, I clearly get the 'idea' that Clover is meant to be noble and good and such but like, really? A fan game of Undertale (where one of the main ending messages was 'Don't kill and don't be killed', where a child's suicidal attempts to free monster kind lead to every major tragedy in the game, and where suicide was repeatedly shown to only make things worse through Asgore and Alphys in numerous neutral endings) is the game that decides having its protagonist's pointless self sacrifice should be honored and treated as a good ending by the narrative?????

How did none of the otherwise clearly brilliant people working on this miss the very bad, no good implications of Clover's friends being talked into letting them kill themselves and having the narrative frame it as anything but the worst end?????

I have many, many questions. And concerns. And...

Look, I do get it. Undertale Yellow is still a fangame. There are going to be weird notes in the tone due to different writers and such, and I should just be happy that the game was finished it at all, and accept that this god awful scene is probably just the result of its creators really, really wanting their beloved characters to go out as kindly (and beautifully drawn/animated) as possible with all the hugs and feels of canon Undertale without taking into account how much the very different context might warp the tone and the characterizations of everyone in the entire scene.

But like. God damn. There is something very off putting about not letting brave kind Martlet refuse to take this as an answer and then finding she actually can't stop it happening (and no her saying that after like two sentences from 'Ceraba who's judgement about the human sucks' doesn't count). About Starlow not recognising he and his posse might've had something to do with why Clover is thinking this. About Ceraba not on some level going 'IF THIS IS YOUR CHOICE THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME USE YOU TO SAVE KANAKO?!' Edit: Also a totally waste of prequel opportunity not to let Asgore visibly make the worst choices we canonly know he made on screen. Yes, he gets to stab Clover in the Flawed!Pacist route but Clover's trying to shoot him in that one; the fact we don't get to see him stab a 'far too willing to die for their friends and not defending themselves' Clover as the friend trio can do nothing to stop it from happening feels like such a cop out I swear XD

I'm all for 'Clover dies willingly' at the end of the True Pacifist but they way they did it was just... Really ugh in a way I'm finding tricky to word and I'm honestly shocked I haven't seen more people point it out (though admittedly that might be because I haven't really looked around much). ...So yeah. I know its too late to change said ending but really kinda hoping at some point one of the Undertale Yellow team realizes this might be an issue and thinks to add a content warning in the game's opening or something because it could really use one of those. Also that for any future projects they do, they happen to do a little more research into how to avoid accidentally glorify suicide as opposed to having it as a tragedy because damn they did not manage that here whatsoever.

---

ANYWAY, with all that rant finally out of my head some other stuff about Undertale Yellow I be feeling strongly:

Flowey's boss battle and the lead up to it is incredible and without a doubt makes the neutral route the most amazing well crafted route in the game. 10/10 may have already mentioned this in the massive rant above but if so gonna repeat it anyway because it's just that damn good.

Genocide route being a deconstruction of the 'disproportionate revenge is justice' 90s Anti Hero is very cool theme wise but the lack of the lack of stuff like notes in shops saying 'please don't kill my family' and monsters with less screen time getting more fleshed out drags it down a little, as does Clover not actually choking on dust or getting attacked by the human souls or something at the very end. Really do love the Martlet battle flashback moments and Axel's horrifically timed confession scene though.

The general uselessness of the ACT menu in big 'endurance' fights as well as the lack of 'alternative sparing ACTS' makes fights a lot less fun than they could be and I found myself a lot less willing to use them in general as a result despite them being my favorite thing about Undertale. Did still adore what fun stuff was in them though so I think it's just a case of them being a tad too out of focus compared to the bullet hell gameplay (which I'm not that good at) for my tastes.

Pacifist route could've really used some more optional hangouts and/or letters from the main friends. As is, the peak 'hang out' part of the game for me was the nap room I spent maybe two minutes in, and Dalv especially could've benefitted a ton from a bit more presence (I got more interaction from Mo and the rabbit who's tongue was stuck to a pole and I'm not happy about that? If nothing else not getting to see the inside of Martlet's house or help Dalv build his new home feel like lost opportunities).

Personal pet peeve and nothing too serious but not a fan of Asgore not getting the kill on Clover outside of Flawed Pacifist. Makes sense on most routes (glares at T!Pacifist again) given the way the plot is set up and all but given Toby Fox has repeatedly stated Asgore killed all the humans who fell post Chara it just drives me nuts XD (As does the poor Blue Soul getting treated as a killer/evil but like, I can see where people are coming on that one and Undertale Yellow uses that to amp up Chujin's nightmare fuel vibes fantastically so I shall reluctantly congratulate that theory's use there and steel myself for the inevitable 'wait you're using Undertale Yellow lore but Axis didn't kill Integrity?' questions that will be posted on my 'will eventually be posted' Undertale fanfics XDDDD)

Love all the main cast, especially Martlet, and I am way too hyped for the day Undertale Yellow and its main cast get their own fandom tags on AO3.

...Kanako's death was incredibly stupid and avoidable but like, that's kind of what I like about it? I really also wanna know which Amalgamite she became (I'm thinking probably the one that tucks Frisk in to sleep and pats them on the head because of her and Ceraba's little 'going to sleep' game but like, I could see a very heart wrenching case for her being part of So Cold as well).

Anyone reading this who somehow hasn't played Undertale Yellow should really stop reading this and go play the game. It's free, its (one major thematic issue I have moral objections to aside) pretty decently written, and hey, more Undertale stuff to have fun making fanworks with <3

Goddamn has Undertale Yellow kicked my drive to write Undertale fanfic into overload XD Thank you Undertale Yellow team for helping me get all fired up again and sorry about all the grr but dang it, it needed to be said and now that it's out of my system I can throw myself into finding ways to incorporate your settings and characters into fanworks of my own (admittedly the AU elements might make things kinda tricky -Asgore having to kill EVERY human child even more so- but that nifty little detail of early Royal Guard Martlet having and being willing to abuse her access to the Hotland Lab allows me so many ways to have Chujin be a well meaning awful person and I am living for it!) <3 <3 <3

[freelancearsonist]

hunger

➔ Lucy MacLean (Fallout) x AFAB!Reader

➔ 0.8k words

➔ You teach your best friend something new.

➔ Rated MA // oral (reader receiving), a little bit of internalized homophobia, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), two (2) okie dokies

➔ This happened bc @ozarkthedog challenged me to write some lucy porn with no plot (thank you my love <3) i have this condition where i can't write anything less than 1k so i was shook this came to me so easily hopefully it doesn't suck fjsfjslfjs

“I’ve never…”

“We don’t have to,” you quickly counter. The last thing you want to do is pressure Lucy into new territory.

She looks up at you from her position against the pillows with the biggest, prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “I want to,” she says with an earnest nod that sends her long hair out around her head like a dark halo. “I really want to.”

“Okay.”

This goes against everything you’ve been taught since the two of you were kids. Sex is for reproduction, not pleasure. It’s nothing more than goal-based. It’s all bullshit, of course, and you’ve never been quiet about your thoughts on that–much to the quiet chagrin of the leadership. You hadn’t realized until recently, though, that your childhood best friend feels the same way.

In a flash she’s got you trapped in her arms so she can roll on top of you, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips at the quick flip. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“I’ve never been on this side,” she murmurs, breath warm against your neck. “You’re gonna have to show me what to do.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and at first no words come. How long have you wanted to be in this exact position with this exact girl? How could words even hope to convey all the thoughts rushing through your brain right now? “I can do that.”

“Okie dokie.”

Her lips are so soft. There’s a heady contrast between her firm grip on your hips and the feather-light way she makes her way down the expanse of your stomach. There’s confidence in everything Lucy Maclean does, but she looks up at you now as she kisses your hip and there’s nerves swirling in those chocolate brown irises. Underneath her self-assuredness, there’s always been a fear of failure. It’s something you’ve comforted her through a lot over the years.

“Do I just… go for it?”

You can’t help smiling at that wide-eyed eagerness to learn and to please. “You know what feels good to you?”

She nods, fingers unconsciously massaging your spread thighs. She’s already so good at this without even realizing it.

“Start with that, and we’ll go from there.”

She nods again, and that look crosses her face. It’s one you’ve been familiar with since you were both in velcro shoes–sheer determination, resolution to rise to a challenge. You’ve always admired that look. Lucy “never backs down” MacLean is a badass, and you’re lucky to call her your best friend.

She starts with light little kitten licks to your clit, whining as her hips shift to grind against the mattress from your taste alone. She’s a little light on the pressure but you moan anyway to show her she’s on the right track. “That’s it baby, a little harder…”

“I won’t hurt you?”

Your hand comes down to cup her cheek, silently reassuring. “No, honey, you can be rough with it. Feels so good.”

She’s always taken constructive criticism in stride–she pulls away for just a moment to readjust her grip on your spread thighs, and then she returns with vigor. This time, when she seals her lips around your clit and sucks, your moan isn’t even remotely fabricated.

“Like that?” She asks, a proud smile flickering at the corners of her lips as she lets her tongue trail down to taste you properly.

“Yeah, Lucy, fuck.”

“You taste good,” she murmurs into your cunt, matter-of-fact. You can’t help smiling, even through the whine that escapes you as she returns to your clit.

“You’re doing great,” you praise as your fingers tangle into her hair. So soft, so well cared for. Always prim and proper–you love that you get to be the one to unwind her like this.

She’s a remarkably fast learner–in just a few quick minutes, and she has you whining and bucking your hips on the edge of a precipice.

“Oh god Lucy, I’m gonna–”

But you don’t get to finish your sentence, because she doesn’t relent. Her lips seal around your clit and she doesn’t let up until you’re gushing, simultaneously trying to push her away and pull her closer.

“Wow,” she breathes reverently. “Was that good?”

“Incredible,” you sigh. Your bones feel like liquid–it’s all you can do to pull her up into a messy kiss. The taste of your own arousal on your beautiful best friend’s tongue is nothing short of euphoric.

She keeps her mouth locked to yours for a long moment, then you can feel her lips twist into a broad grin. “I want to do it again.”

“Easy killer,” you say with a breathy little chuckle. “It’s your turn first.”

Her eyes widen for a moment, and then she’s nodding her head rapidly. “Okie dokie.”

➔ beta: @ozarkthedog ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[communistkenobi]

thank you so much for the transmisogyny reading post! im definitely gonna be reading into those. in a similar vein, do you have a recommended reading list for decolonization/anti-imperialism?

Do you mean molsno's post? def cannot take credit for that but yes I have a couple!

high-level recommendation is discourse on colonialism by aime cesaire (this link goes to a pdf that is a collection of essays, you can skip to cesaire's essay). probably one of the most formative essays for me personally in terms of how i think about colonialism

decolonization is not a metaphor by Tuck & Yang is a famous article in decolonial scholarship and will likely come up pretty frequently if you're reading academic work. if you read that article, i recommend following it up with Slavery is a Metaphor by Garba & Sorentino - its a Black critical commentary by two marxist scholars i believe on Tuck & Yang's work, working through the anti-Black thinking that is present in the work, particularly the deeply problematic conceptual attention given by Tuck & Yang to slavery when historicising and analyzing settler colonialism in North America. These are both academic articles and they're both jargon-laden so your mileage will vary

I originally included decolonizing transgender 101 by b binaohan on here before realizing that it's already in the linked post above lol. in that post is a link to the full book that i'll repost here (usually you can only find the introduction online) so definitely make use of that. anyway great work, very accessible and insightful, makes direct linkages between white supremacy, settler colonialism, and transmisogyny in a way i found extremely helpful

i read beyond white privilege: geographies of white supremacy and settler colonialism during my master's about four years ago (jesus christ the passage of time!!!) and found it very insightful - the authors talk about white supremacy as a process rather than a historical event, as well as talk about some of the conceptual limitations of the popular focus on white privilege (as opposed to white supremacy) that i found very helpful for me personally. its another academic article

I've been recently introduced to Anibal Quijano's work, particularly the Coloniality of Power. this is an extremely theoretical work that focuses on the construction and universalization of race, the 'invention of Europe,' modernity as a colonial construction, and a bunch of other pretty dense topics. thats not to scare you off, but its probably the most theory heavy article i've linked here

this list skews towards academic work because that's what im most familiar with (all the links i provided are open-access links so you should not need institutional access to read them). For books, you can read Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon or Orientalism by Edward Said, they're both pretty foundational decolonial texts and are also pretty formative for me. Fanon's work is on decolonial struggle and the pathologization of colonized people, Said's work is on the construction of "the East" to justify and reproduce Western hegemony.

Hope this was helpful! I'm by no means an expert and this is only scratching the surface of scholarship on the subject. I'm still in the process of reading, but hopefully this is a good starting point for you!

[bingoboingobongo]

the right thing to do (i)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: You’ve become a distraction to Ghost, and so he’s started keeping his distance for the sake of the team. But when a mission goes awry, he finds himself stuck with you.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of/allusions to sex, brief mention of dacryphilia, brief mention of blowjobs, canon-typical violence, mentions of injury, forced proximity, pining

A/N: hiii, ngl i’m actually really proud of this fic, like deadass this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet in the middle of starbucks. anyways i was thinking of including smut in this but changed my mind bc that shit’s hard to write so it’s pretty pg-13. i plan on making this a bit of a series (with smut hopefully) so while this chapter is gender neutral now (i think, don’t quote me tho) in the future the reader will be written as a girl. as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated, enjoy :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

It wasn’t right for Ghost to be paying you as much attention as he was. It felt right, and he wanted it to be right, but that didn’t mean it was. What was right was what kept the most people safe. What was right was what kept the most people alive. Usually that was what Ghost did. Ghost did what kept most people safe. He did what kept the most people alive. The problem, however, was that doing the right thing and indulging in his feelings for you were two diametrically opposing things. Indulging in his feelings — indulging in you — was wrong.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with you; there could never be anything wrong with you in his eyes. How could there be, when he was seeing you through rose colored glasses? Although in his case, he supposed, they were more dark red than rose. Trivialities aside though, the real problem wasn’t anything that you were doing, it was what he wasn’t doing.

He wasn’t peering around every corner anymore. He wasn’t focusing on covering his tracks as well as he should. He wasn’t triple checking every piece of intel the task force got their hands on. He tried to, he really did, but with a thousand thoughts running at a hundred miles per hour — and a large majority of them having to do with you — it was only expected that a few things slip through the cracks.

For the most part, nothing too bad had happened as a result of his carelessness. A few scrapes and maybe one-too-many close calls, but nothing that would have gotten anyone in trouble. Maybe, if he weren’t a lieutenant or if he were in a completely different field, he would’ve been content to let it slide. But as corny as it sounded, he was part of a team, and he wasn’t going to let more people get hurt on his watch. Not again.

So for the safety of the team, Ghost started avoiding you. It always hurt him to push past you in the hallways, ignoring your little attempts at small talk; or to use Gaz as an example for takedown demonstrations, when in reality all he wanted was to be able to savor the warmth of your skin, even if it was with you pinned under him. Although, if he were being honest, he wasn’t opposed to pinning you down in other contexts. But as much as he hurt, he knew he had to do it. It wasn’t fair to you or the rest of the team if he wasn’t at his full capacity at all times.

He had made that decision two weeks ago, and it was already starting to get to him. Sleep was harder to get by, he was snapping at his teammates more, and when he rubbed the eyeblack off, it was only replaced by the sunken shadows under his eyes. He missed you too. Missed the way you would always offer him a bite of your food during dinner even though he would never eat it; missed the way you would always shoulder him to get his attention while you were walking to the training room, your hands in your pockets as you began telling him about something you had read the night before; missed the way you would grip onto his arm and try to goad him into taking off the mask or telling you what he looked like. Always the utilitarian though, he shouldered the problems in stride. They were nothing, he told himself, he had been through worse and he would go through worse. That was just how it was in the military. Besides, Laswell had just told them about a new mission, and a new mission meant new problems and new distractions.

It had gone fine in the beginning, but after a certain point everything started going to shit. On paper, their mission was simple; extract Krasimir Zhelyazkov, an arms and ammunition dealer with the Bulgarian mob who had allegedly dealt with one of Makarov’s right hand men, Demyan Solovev. Zhelyazkov would take them to Solovev, and Solovev would take them to Makarov. Simple. Of course, nothing was ever that simple when it came to war.

For one, Bulgaria in the middle of winter was cold, and with cold came snow and ice and wind. And of course, with snow and ice and wind came slippage and extra gear and low visibility. Ghost had been worried about the weather going into it; while all the members of the 141 had training in multiple environments, it was never easy going into a fight with snowfall as thick as blanks in a lottery.

The other problem was Zhelyazkov. While Ghost and Laswell both confirmed the validity of the intel they had received, there was no guarantee that Zhelyazkov would turn. Makarov was an intimidating man, and the stories of what he did to snitches were not pleasant. Either way, Zhelyazkov was unlikely to make it out alive, Ghost just had to make sure he got the information out of him before he died.

And of course, the other problem — which Ghost admitted was not unique to this mission but was still a problem just the same — was you. Even though he had tried to put distance between the two of you, he couldn’t help himself from stealing a glance in your direction every once in a while, just to admire the way your breath condensed in the frigid air or how you scrunched up your nose as if to make sure it was still there.

Ghost knew about these problems before they happened, and so he prepared for them. Worried about slipping on the snow covered ground? Request boots with better traction. Worried about Zhelyazkov not snitching? Get his family involved; it was unethical, yes, but if it was what it took to get the information then so be it. And you. Ghost knew he couldn’t afford spending anymore time eyeing you in the field, so he only increased the distance between the two of you. 

Typically, if a target heard that someone was coming for them, they tucked their tail into their legs and ran — usually to a foreign country or some sort of island. But with Zhelyazkov, there was nothing to tip the 141 that anything was amiss; no sudden airplane rides, no sudden stoppage of shipments, nothing. Zhelyazkov kept living and doing business as he always had, seemingly unaware of the intel the 141 had on him.

Which is why when they approached Zhelyazkov’s compound, they expected it to be an easy takedown. In order to save personnel and to preserve stealth, the task force only sent one team out. For this particular mission, the team included Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, and of course, you. Ghost was conflicted about your inclusion on the team; on one hand, you were a valuable asset to the mission, but on the other hand, seeing the way you rubbed your hands together for heat in the cabin of the helicopter filled him with an aching urge to reach out for you and was an obvious distraction that impacted his ability to protect his team. In the end though, he couldn’t hold his inability to focus over you and besides, you had experience from your time before the 141 working in similar conditions, not to mention the general tactical expertise you brought to the table.

The mission had started like any other routine extraction would. A chopper flew the five of you to a forest on the edge of the compound, the thick snowfall helping to cover you. Once on the ground, Price did a quick headcount to make sure everyone had landed alright, before readjusting his rifle and leading the group forward. The five of you traveled in a line, with Price at the head and Ghost at the rear. You were positioned behind Price, but even with Soap and Gaz in front of him, Ghost was still acutely aware of every step you took.

At the moment, it seemed as if there was nothing to worry about. The snowfall was heavy of course, but not too heavy that it hampered the team and besides, it covered their tracks and kept them hidden. At least it should have. 

The sudden shower of gunfire actually wasn’t the first thing that tipped Ghost off that something was wrong. It had been their radios. Laswell had told them she would be checking in on them after they landed, but five minutes had already passed with no sign of communication. At this point, they had left the forest and Ghost tried calling in, but to no avail. His radio provided nothing but crackly static, buzzing and impatient. He knew something was wrong and he tried to call for Price, but that was when hell started raining down on them.

The thing about gunfire is that you could actually see the shot happen before you heard it. It had always been an odd phenomenon to Ghost, the slight delay between sight and audio. For a brief moment, Ghost watched the snowy skies in front of him become aglow with a barrage of flashing lights. In a weird sense, it was dreamlike. Mesmerizing. And then the sound hit him. Even with earmuffs on, the gunfire was deafeningly loud. It was like watching a fireworks display, except the pops were louder, harsher, and there would be no delighted children looking up at the air in awe.

He tried screaming at the others to take cover, but the combination of winter winds and cracking bullets was hard to cut through. Somewhere to his right, he heard Price yelling, but his words were constantly interrupted by the enemy’s fire. Ghost tried looking for the others, but suddenly the snow was too thick, the bullets too loud, his teammates too far away. He did the only thing he could: run to the treeline for cover.

Between the sheer magnitude of bullets being aimed at them, the time Ghost spent looking for his team, and the time it took him to get to the treeline, Ghost had taken more than a few hits. Nothing detrimental, thankfully, but he could feel the familiar sting of a bullet that brushed him a little too close than he would have liked. He keeled over against a tree, listening as bullets flew past his face or struck the thick wood behind him. He tried using his radio again but it was no use; he couldn’t get a signal. 

He tried to turn around, but the gunfire was too constant. He couldn’t get a clear look. He swallowed down an unceremonious groan as he considered the situation. Returning fire was an option, of course, but not a smart one. Considering his lack of a decent vantage point and the fact that he couldn’t even clearly see where the shots were coming from, even the best sniper on the force — which was him — wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot. Besides, he only had so much ammo on him, and if the attack was coming from Zhelyazkov, which he assumed it was, then he was seriously outmatched in terms of equipment. The man was an ammunition dealer, for Christ’s sake, if he couldn’t shoot Ghost, he could certainly keep him waiting long enough for hypothermia to set in.

“Shit, Ghost!” he heard from his right. He turned to look, and there you were, sitting with your back against a tree and your rifle in your hands. He was overwhelmed with relief at the sight of you, before cursing himself under his breath. He was in the middle of being fired at, why was he letting you distract him? “Where’s everyone else?” you cried, your voice barely carrying over the roar of bullets.

“Safe, hopefully,” he yelled, “I didn’t see where they went.” He watched you shake your head, you were probably cursing to yourself right now.

“Did you see who was with Zhelyazkov?”

“There was someone with Zhelyazkov?”

“Not just someone,” you yelled, looking at him grimly, “Fishers.”

Ghost turned away from you, leaning his head against the tree. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, before turning to look at you again. “You sure?”

You didn’t say anything in response, only giving him a grave nod.

“God damn it,” he muttered. “Well, we don’t have time to worry about that, understand? Right now we just have to get somewhere safe.”

You nodded again, turning back to look at the source of the fire. “Most of the fire is coming from an MG3,” you called out, “they’ll have to change the barrel soon, we can move then.”

Ghost nodded at you, briefly looking back as well. It wasn’t long before the gunfire began to die down and the two of you moved from your positions in the trees, running further into the forest. But whoever was operating the gun was well-trained, and it didn’t take long for them to replace the barrel of the gun and restart the fire. Ghost ducked behind another tree, his eyes watching you do the same as he took a breath.

That was the only way the two of you could move for a long time. Waiting for what felt like painstakingly long minutes for the barrel to have to be changed, just to be able to run maybe a few yards before the spray of bullets picked up again and you had to take cover. It was a painstakingly slow process, and throughout all of it, Ghost couldn’t help but worry that you wouldn’t get to cover in time, and he would have to watch as you died in front of him. He also couldn’t stop worrying about the rest of the team. It concerned him that you were here but Price, Gaz, and Soap weren’t. If they had died when the gunfire started he would have been able to see their blood in the snow, he supposed, as if that thought was supposed to comfort him. It didn’t do much, and he could only hope that the three of them had at least found each other.

Finally though, the deafening roar of gunfire began to quiet down, either due to distance or to lack of ammunition, and Ghost felt like he could breathe again. “Are you alright?” he called out to you, quickly scanning over your body.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you gulped in the freezing air. “You?” He nodded. You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, stomping to you through the thick snow. “You get hit anywhere?” he asked, his hand reaching tentatively for a scrape on your face.

You reached for your own face, freezing his hand in its tracks. He might have been a weathered war veteran, but even he got nervous in front of people he liked. He watched you wipe the blood off your face and stare at it, “It’s fine,” you told him, “it’s just a scrape. Motherfucker must have clipped me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t scar.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty enough to pull off a face scar. What do you think?” you asked, the minx-like grin on your face providing a sharp contrast to the sheer gravity of the situation the two of you were in. That was another thing you did that distracted him. Those snarky quips and sly suggestions that made Ghosts stomach flip and his cheeks heat up. 

“Stop worrying about appearances,” he chastised, trying to regain his focus, “we don’t have time.”

“You were the one that brought it up!” you cried, throwing your hands up.

“Quiet,” he said, “just because they stopped firing doesn’t mean we’re safe. For all we know they could have men on the ground looking for us.”

You dropped your hands to your side, “So now what do we do?”

He pursed his lips, surveying their surroundings. “We make our way to the secondary location as planned. Look at the tree branches,” he said, gesturing above him, “trees will grow their branches towards the direction that gets the most sun: south. The secondary location was north of the drop site and we’ve been traveling in a relatively straight line. If we keep moving in this direction we should come across it in an hour or so.”

You chewed on your lip, “Do we even know if it’s safe? Fishers was with Zhelyazkov, for all we know we could be walking straight into an ambush.”

“You sure it was Fishers?”

“Yes, it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure?” Ghost asked again, “the snow was thick, I couldn’t even see anything besides Gaz and Johnny.”

“I’m sure,” you insisted, “Me and Price were at the front, we saw the wall of Zhelyazkov’s compound. One of his cronies was up there with Fishers. He was standing next to an MG3 and pointing at us, I know it. I would recognize that stupid cowlick anywhere.”

Ghost groaned. Fishers wasn’t someone Ghost had known very well, so at the very least he was spared the painful feeling of being betrayed by someone he cared about — not that his feelings mattered. The traitor, Colten Fishers, was an American soldier. A veteran to military service, no doubt, but still considered a rookie in special operations. The official report would probably say that Fishers turned in exchange for some quick cash, that he was a cowardly traitor who betrayed them, but that answer didn’t satisfy Ghost. 

Honestly, Ghost wasn’t even sure how Fishers had gotten onto the task force in the first place. Compared to the rest of the people on the team, Fishers’ resume was weak, his experience was subpar and his track record was a little too spotty for his liking. The fact that Fishers’ was even in a place to betray them worried him, almost more than the actual betrayal, because if Fishers was able to get on the task force with his lackluster résumé then that meant he had bad friends in high places. 

“God damn it,” he muttered, “you have a point, but there’s not much else we can do. The more time we spend out here the more likely we are to get shot.”

“Or get hypothermia,” you said.

“Or get hypothermia,” he added. He reached for his radio, clicking it on only to be met with static again. “Bravo team, this is Bravo 0-7, do you copy?” No response.

“They probably set up signal blockers,” you pointed out, “either that or the storm is so bad it’s messing with our signal.”

He groaned, “Does yours work?” he asked.

“No,” you said, gesturing lamely at the damaged radio next to your chest, “motherfuckers clipped it while I was looking for Price. Scared the shit out of me too, thought they had gotten me right in the chest for a second.”

He walked up to you, bending down as he inspected the broken radio. He could feel you suck in a breath, and for a moment he let himself wonder if he gave you butterflies the same way you did to him. “Yeah,” he said, looking up at you, his mask inches away from your face, “this thing’s been shot to hell, there’s no way it’s gonna get a signal, even without a storm.” He lingered for a split second, captivated by the way your eyes stared up at him, large and round like a marble, before pulling back.

“Let’s get a move on,” he said, adjusting his rifle. “We can’t afford to be stuck out here when night falls.”

Walking in the snow was hard, walking in the snow and feeling you glance over at him every other minute was even harder. He didn’t want to look at you, well that was a lie, he did want to look at you, but he knew he shouldn’t look at you. He needed to put on a brave face, that was his job as a lieutenant. He needed to be serious, to have a plan, to not get hung up on distractions, and he couldn’t do that when he was watching you.

Instead, he tried to think about everything that could go wrong from this point. It seemed pessimistic, he knew, but he needed to be prepared. You had a point about the second location. While Fishers hadn’t been told everything about the mission, he knew enough to severely compromise them. Besides, if he did have one of the higher-ups on his side, there was no telling how much he knew. The secondary location had once been a logger’s cabin; it was small, kitted with only the bare necessities. A bathroom, a small kitchenette, and an empty bedroom they had planned to keep Zhelyazkov in. In other words, it wasn’t an easy place to set up an ambush. But they could’ve rigged the outside, set up tripwires connected to shotguns or planted mines along the perimeter. The forest around it was dense, which once would’ve been helpful to keep them hidden but now only provided a wide array of hiding spots for Zhelyazkov’s men to hide in.

Additionally, there was no telling how many men Zhelyazkov would have waiting for them. Even by himself, Ghost could hold his own and with you, their chances only increased. But Zhelyazkov practically had an army, and it would only take one well-aimed shot before it was all over. Granted, some of his men would likely be looking for the others, and if they also went to the cabin, the five of them could probably hold their own.

But there was no guaranteeing the others were heading to the cabin, let alone breathing. For all Ghost knew, their team of five could’ve been cut down to two long ago. “What are you thinking about?” you asked, pulling Ghost out of his thoughts.

He turned to look at you for the first time since you had started walking. There were snowflakes on your eyelashes and your face was tinged red from the cold. He wanted to be able to cradle your jaw, to warm you up until your face was flushed from something other than the cold weather. He wanted to tell you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, that you would always be safe when you were with him, that he would kill anyone who tried to touch you and would do anything for a chance to hold you. “Just thinking about what you said earlier,” he said instead, “about Zhelyazkov ambushing us.”

You hummed, “Me too. I don’t know how likely that is anymore though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean think about it,” you said, “we flew over the cabin on our way here and everything looked fine, no footprints or anything. And by the time we did that and the time they started shooting, maybe ten minutes had passed. That would mean Zhelyazkov had ten minutes to get his men there, and they wouldn’t have been able to take a direct route or else they would’ve ran into us. Besides, why waste his manpower by setting up an ambush we might not even show up for? I mean, the plan was probably to kill us all right from the beginning, so why plan for us showing up at the cabin if we’re not even supposed to be alive? I mean, who in their right mind would do that?”

“Let’s not assume Zhelyazkov is in his right mind. It’s thinking like that that gets people killed,” he said, harsher than he intended. “Not that you don’t have a point,” he added when he saw you look down in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to hurt you, but he had fallen into that mindset before and he knew how dangerous it was. “For Zhelyazkov to waste his manpower on an ambush would be tactically unwise, you’re right, but we don’t want to go in expecting an empty house and get caught off guard.” 

“So then what? We go in expecting to get immediately gunned down by another machine gun? How is that any better? It’s not like there’s anything we can do to prepare for that.”

Ghost grimaced, once again, you had a point. “Still, it’s better to be prepared,” was all he could say. You looked at him as if you wanted to say more, but your mouth stayed shut and your eyes turned to focus ahead of you once again.

The two of you walked in silence, with nothing but the sound of crunching snow to indicate that anyone was even in the forest at all. After what felt like ages, Ghost paused, holding out a hand to stop you too. He felt you looking at him, but he didn’t respond. He was studying your surroundings, scrutinizing the snow on the ground before searching the skies.

“What is it?” you finally asked in a hushed whisper.

“Checking for traps,” he said, his gravelly voice so quiet he could barely hear himself. “The cabin should be just beyond that treeline,” he whispered, pointing. You followed his hand, but you couldn’t see anything behind the dense wall of tree trunks. “Let’s go,” he said, “get your gun out.” You complied, mirroring him as he unshouldered his rifle and held it against his chest. He turned to look at you, your lips pursed into a tight line and your hair sprinkled with snowflakes. He wished you weren’t at risk of walking into an ambush, that way he could capture the way you looked with a camera.

He began slowly stalking towards the cabin, cursing to himself at the snow crunching under his feet. He arrived at the edge of the treeline, coming onto an open clearing with the small wood cabin at the very center. His head swiveled around, constantly checking for the familiar glint of gunmetal hiding in the trees. He turned back to you, “Let’s split up,” he said quietly, his voice muffled by his mask. “I’ll go left, you go right. Meet in the back and then sweep the house.” He watched you nod, and his eyes followed you briefly as you began to move in the opposite direction before he returned his focus to the task at hand. 

The perimeter of the clearing wasn’t necessarily large, but it still took him a painfully long time to reach the back. “You see anything?” he asked when you arrived. You shook your head, and he cocked his head towards the cabin. “Let’s go,” he said, turning back to check on you as the two of you made your way towards the front of the house.

There was a small porch on the front, with a pair of steps leading up to it. Ghost skipped them, choosing to step over them and go straight to the porch. You weren’t so smart, and when you put your weight on the first step, it squealed and groaned. Ghost whipped around at the sound, and you rolled your eyes back and cringed, “Shit,” you muttered quietly.

The two of you were frozen for a second, you with your foot still on the step and Ghost with his eyes trained on the door. When nothing happened, you lifted your foot and stepped over the stairs, copying Ghost like you should have before. When you were both on the porch, Ghost gestured for you to open the door. You reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before swinging it open.

Ghost walked in, his rifle swiveling as he made his way to the bathroom. He could hear you following behind him, the snow on your boots crunching slightly as you went to the bedroom. He swung open the door of the bathroom, only to be met with his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. His helmet was covered in snow, only accentuating the darkness of his eyes. When he had confirmed that the room was empty, he exited, watching as you came out from the bathroom.

“It’s clear,” you said, before he could ask.

“That’s a relief,” he said, letting out a sigh, but he didn’t lower his rifle. 

“You think the others will be coming here too?” you asked, looking around the tiny house.

He wanted to say yes, but honestly he had no clue. The forest was huge, and he had no idea where the others might have been. They could be looking for the cabin as well, but there was no guarantee they’d find it.

He took off his helmet and cracked his neck. “Night’s about to fall, get some rest. I’ll take the first watch,” he said instead, reaching into his pack and tossing you a bedroll. 

You caught it easily, but made no move to set it down. “It’s fine,” you told him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep, you deserve the rest.”

“That wasn’t a request,” he said sternly, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah it’s an order, isn’t it? Geez, you sound like Price.”

“Price is right. You need your sleep, a sniper could spot your eyebags from a mile away.”

“Rude,” you shot back, “and by that logic, wouldn’t a sniper be able to see you from, like, two miles away from all of your eyeblack?

“If they see me, they’re already dead.”

“Wow,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I’m so scared.”

“You should be.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “I’m gonna take a shower then, you got any soap?”

He threw you a small plastic container, “Suave three-in-one? What are you, a high school boy?” you asked, shooting him an incredulous look.

This time it was his turn to roll his eyes, “Beggars can’t be choosers, darling, you want luxury toiletries bring them yourself.”

You were silent for a moment, and Ghost started to feel worry bubble up in his chest. He didn’t mean to say that nickname out loud, it just happened. He was exhausted and paranoid and hungry and he was stuck in a room he could cross in about ten steps and it just slipped out. And if this was how it ended, in this stupid, tiny, suffocating house that could have gone in so many other directions; if he ruined everything because he couldn’t control himself, he would have never forgiven himself.

“You think I’m darling?” you asked with a grin, and Ghost could practically feel a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“Just go take your shower,” he said, but even he could hear the smile in his voice. 

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” you asked, pulling out a towel from your bag. Ghost stilled. He could tell you were just joking, you had to be. But there had to be at least some truth in it, otherwise you wouldn’t have even thought to say that right? Suddenly the house felt uncomfortably warm. It was too small, too cramped, too stuffy. He thought the house’s lack of heating would have been a problem, but for some reason it felt like there were a thousand heaters in this tiny room.

“Geez, Ghost,” you said, giggling, “I was just messing with you. Dang, is it really that easy to get you speechless? Guess I have a new party trick to show the others when we get back.”

He stared at you, trying to come up with something to say. “I’m gonna set up outside,” he said finally, changing the topic, “leave the soap in the shower, will you?”

You hummed, slinging the towel over your back. He watched you step into the bathroom, his eyes lingering on the door as it shut behind you. He could hear the shower turn on, but he made himself leave before he could hear your clothes come off. 

The crisp, winter air provided a sharp contrast to the tense atmosphere of the house. The frigid winds nipped at his eyes and he could feel a shiver rack through his chest but he didn’t mind it. It was refreshing, feeling the freezing air fill his lungs and watching his breath condense in front of him. He sat down on the porch steps and reached for his rifle, checking the magazine. He picked out one of the bullets, thumbing it thoughtfully as he stared at the snowstorm in front of him. He put the bullet back and looked back at the house, making sure that you weren’t around before he pulled off his mask. He let out a sigh, thumbing the hard plastic skull in his hands and letting the frosty air kiss at his exposed skin before pulling the soft, black, skull-marked balaclava he wore normally out of his bag and over his face.

Ghost wasn’t the kind of person to let his mind wander. He knew a lot of people did, Soap did, Gaz did, even Price did, but not him. It was just easier that way, he never really had a good place for his mind to wander to anyways. His mind had a tendency to lurk around dark places, and it always left him worse than he started. Once, he had tried to speak to someone about it, and that had only ended up with another dead body to his name. Instead, he distracted himself by focusing on the task in front of him: watching the treeline for enemy soldiers. 

Somehow though, you started to linger around the edge of his thoughts, and he didn’t push you away. He kept staring ahead at the snow-covered trees, but in his mind he was seeing you. He was seeing your stupid teasing grin, your fidgeting fingers that never stayed still, that smooth skin on the junction of your neck and your shoulder that he wanted to kiss and lick and bite. He could almost see your lust-drunk face in front of him, starry-eyed and teary, your lips swollen and red from how hard he would kiss you. He could practically hear you under him, all breathy and pitchy, your voice raw from how much he would make you beg for him. God, he knew he needed to stop these thoughts but he needed you more. He needed you pressed against him, your skin warm and soft and supple, he needed to feel you on top of him, to be inside you. He needed to know how it would feel to have your mouth around him, your eyes lidded as you stared up at—

“Hey,” you said, tiredness leaking through your voice. Ghost suppressed the urge to jump, turning to look at you. “You see anything interesting?” you asked, taking a seat beside you. 

“Nothing,” he said, hoping you wouldn’t notice the way he had to slightly readjust his pants. You didn’t, thank god, for a special forces operator you surely weren’t the most observant, but he wasn’t complaining. You weren’t wearing much, only a pair of thin pajama pants, a tank top, and a hoodie. He was surprised you weren’t shivering.

He could feel you staring at him, partly because of the way your warm breath fanned over him and partly because you stared at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. He had to fight the urge to look back at you because he knew if he did, you would be able to see the star-struck in his eyes. “You need something?” he asked, trying to fill the silence.

You turned away from him, your eyes scanning the treeline. “Not really,” you hummed, “but it’s lonely inside, can’t sleep.”

“Lonely?”

“Well— Not lonely, but— I don’t know. It’s just… unsettling, I guess.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he said, with a slight chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snorted.

“It means I’ve seen you do things that would make a grown man cry and you're scared of sleeping alone.”

“Uh, that is not it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m not scared, I’d just rather stay out here. Besides, it’s easier to fall asleep in the cold.”

“Is it really?” he asked teasingly, “or do you just like me that much?”

You yawned, letting your head rest on his shoulder. He tensed up at first, but when he realized how nice it was to feel you against him, he relaxed. “You got me pegged, Ghost,” you said tiredly. He had to suppress a groan when he saw the way you looked up at him. Your eyes were large and slightly damp from the yawn, and he could see the smallest speckle of teardrops on your eyelids. Everything about you was just so damn intoxicating, and for what? It wasn’t like he could act on it like he wanted to. He couldn’t push your slightly damp hair out of your face like he wanted to, he couldn’t run his hands up your body and squeeze you in all the right spots like he wanted to, he couldn’t push you down against a table and fuck you until you cried out for him like he wanted to. He wanted to do so much to you and he just couldn’t.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice sweet and tired.

He stared at you, it’s not like he could tell the truth but it hurt him so bad to lie to your face. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re interesting,” you said simply.

“Am I?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, staring back at him, “are you gonna give me an answer?”

“Not tonight. You gonna sleep out here?” he asked, watching as you let out a yawn.

“Do you want me to?” you asked, picking your head up off his shoulder and staring up at him.

Ghost was silent for a moment, “I don’t have a problem with it,” he said finally. You gave him a sleepy smile which made his heart melt before resting your head against his shoulder again. “Aren’t you cold? You’re barely wearing anything and your hair is still wet, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder, “Now you really sound like Price,” you mumbled, voice muffled by his jacket. 

“And Price is right, again. You’re gonna get sick or catch hypothermia, go get a blanket,” he said, nudging you off of his shoulder gently. He didn’t want to have to push you away, especially since you looked so comfortable, but he was worried for your health. In this weather and in this line of work, catching a cold could have unforeseen effects, and god forbid you get hypothermia. Slowly, you pulled yourself off of Ghost, shooting him a pointed look as you turned back into the house. He turned back to the treeline, trying to remember the way your head leaned against his shoulder. He could still feel the shadow of your touch against him, the warmth and the weight of it. He wanted it back again, regretting sending you off.

It wasn’t long until you returned though, carrying a large wool blanket. “Happy now?” you asked, quirking your brow up at him as you returned to your spot beside him. “I stole it from the bedroom, figured nobody else would be using it.” You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, pulling your knees in so you could cover them too. You let your head fall back on his shoulder again. “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?” you asked, your eyes fixed on the sky.

He looked up, he hadn’t paid much attention to them, but you had a point. The sky was a dark sapphire blue, punctuated by a canyon of stars down the center. Even with the snow falling, the beauty of the stars shone through, their light bright and blinding. He let his eyes wander down to you for a moment, and he could see the night sky reflected in your glassy eyes. Your eyes flickered to his and you grinned, “Like what you see, L.T.?” you asked.

Ghost looked away, “Go to sleep,” he said, missing the way you scrunched your nose in annoyance at him. 

Although he wasn’t looking directly at you, he could still see you in his periphery. He could feel you too. Feel the way you nuzzled into his shoulder, one of your arms snaking up to wrap around his like you were a koala clinging onto a branch. Feel the way your chest rose and fell against him as you breathed, small puffs of air condensing in front of you. He could feel the soft flutter of your eyelids on his arm as you buried your face into his shoulder, trying to shield your face from the cold. It wasn’t long before your breaths began to even out next to him, the puffs of condensed air arriving slower and more evenly.

He turned to look at you again, his eyes raking over your body. The blanket pulled tightly around you, your hair which fell slightly in front of your face, your lips which he swore were pulled in the smallest smile, the bridge of your nose, the ends of your eyelashes, that little scrunch in between your eyebrows. You were the most beautiful thing in that moment, stars be damned. He would’ve given anything to be able to snap a photo of you right now, but he couldn’t, so he resorted to tattooing the image of you into his brain. Not that it was hard, looking at you, admiring you, treasuring you, it was the easiest thing he would ever do.

Ghost shouldn’t have been paying so much attention to you, not here, not when you were so vulnerable and he was supposed to be keeping watch, to be protecting you. It wasn’t right. But wasn’t it? Couldn’t it be? It felt right, and he wanted it to be right. He needed it to be right. He had spent so much time focusing on everyone else; what was safe for everyone else, what was healthy for everyone else, what was right for everyone else. But now, just now, couldn’t he just focus on himself for once? Couldn’t he just be selfish for once, to savor and relish in this moment? You were here and you were safe, and he was here and he was safe, and wasn’t that all that mattered in this tiny moment devoid of reason or time or outsiders? This had to be right. This was right. You were right. You always were.

He looked back at the stars again, taking in a deep breath as he savored the smell of you. You smelled like gunmetal and cheap soap. You smelled like him. He let your fragrance continue to fill his nose as he stared up at the sky. He watched in awe as a streak of bright light arced across the vast canvas of dark blue sky: a shooting star. He thought back to what his mother used to tell him in the backyard of their old flat in Manchester. “Look Simon,” she would say, tracing the path of the star’s tail with her finger, “that’s a shooting star. You make a wish, and you don’t tell anyone, and then it comes true.” Back then, he used to wish for allowance, new toys, a pot roast for dinner, one time for his dad to go away. They never came true, and he knew it was because he always told his mom what he wished for.

This time though, this time would be different. He would keep it a secret until the day he died. Another weight for him to carry, but one that would be worth it if it came true. He wouldn’t tell anyone what he wished for that night, with your sleeping form against him, soft and warm and comforting. He wouldn’t tell anyone that he wished you would love him like he loved you.

[everythoughtihave]

When Muggle Studies Met Potions... Part 1

Writer's Notes: This is my first attempt at writing an imagine/fanfiction so I hope you like it! Please like, reblog and reply with your thoughts, whether it be validation (please lol) or constructive criticism. This is part one, part two will hopefully be written and posted soon! Please let me know what you think and follow along for more HP content

Premise: Reader is muggle-born and the Muggle Studies professor who unintentionally falls for the potions professor everyone seems to love to hate....

Growing up you never thought you'd become a teacher, let alone a teacher in a school of witchcraft and wizardry. What was even more surprising for you is that out of all the brilliant subjects to learn at Hogwarts, you chose to teach Muggle Studies. It was a way for you to share some of the great things you grew up with and how interesting muggles could be, being muggle-born you knew how cool some muggle gadgets could be. Although, you may never be able to forgive yourself for showing the infamous Weasley twins an iPhone and they immediately fell in love with 'pranktok', aka pranks on TikTok, and YouTube sketches; fuelling their desire even more so to share their albeit destructive sense of humour with the world.

You still loved your phone and managed to get Professor Dumbledore to agree to you getting Wi-Fi so you could scroll social media and listen to Spotify. It was days like this when you were grateful for the internet and Spotify, as you sat at your desk marking what seemed to be an endless pile of essays. You jumped when your alarm went off through your headphones, to warn you it was almost to dinner time, and you needed to head to the great hall. So, you finished up the essay you'd started and then headed to dinner.

You kept your headphones on as you walked towards the hall, meaning you had no idea what was happening around you; this was most evident when you stumbled into a fellow colleague and fell onto your bottom. You sat there for a moment on the cold stone flooring, feeling goosebumps rise from your backside to your back and arms, taking your headphones off when you realise who it is you bumped into. It was none other than Professor Snape. Severus, the man you were too afraid to approach with conversation, even when you sat with each other during the mealtimes in the great hall. You just never knew what to say to the man as he was always so short and blunt with everyone and let's not even mention his aura- he just looked down on everyone with judgement, it made both students and professors wary. You couldn't lie though, the mystery was very attractive as was the power he tended to have over situations.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, professor" you whispered, as you tried to stand up in the least embarrassing way possible, "I'm sure I'll be able to move on" Snape replied, while checking you and your bottom out as you stood from your fallen position. "Well, I apologise anyway, now we better get to dinner," you said, walking into the great hall, shoving your headphones and phone into your pockets. You cringed as you entered because of course there are only two chairs left at the professors' table and of course, they are next to each other. Could this evening get any worse...

[itsjillybean]

Prompt: After a successful tour, Copia has thrown himself back into work at the ministry and begins to grow ill from exhaustion.

Thank you to @n-u-l-lo for requesting! This is my first writing ever so please be kind >.< constructive criticism is accepted though.

ENJOY <3

It's a cloudy, crisp autumn day and everyone is hard at work at the ministry, especially one Papa in particular. Despite how much energy he had put into their recent tour, he was adamant about continuing to work just as hard now, feeling the pressure of Sister Imperator and Nihil as well as having a lingering fear that something might happen to him, given that Saltarian had been hanging around lately, and the tour being over too. There isn't a day go by that he doesn't remember what happened last time...his dear brother Terzo's untimely demise...

Anyways, Copia was currently walking down the hall towards the library, when a small dark shadow whips passed him and stops him in his tracks. "Papa! Gosh I feel like I haven't seen you in days!" Aurora smiled sweetly as her tail whips around excitedly. He smiles back softly as he tries to move forward, "Ah, my apologies picolla Ghuleh. I have much work to do. We can talk more later, eh?" "But, you've been on your feet every time I've seen you around. You really should be resting, not that I think you can't handle yourself I just-." She stopped herself from rambling on. He smiled sadly, patting her shoulder, "I am okie dokie, I just have some things to do, you should rest as well, you have worked very hard on your first tour with us my dear, if you'll excuse me." She frowned as he walked passed here hurriedly, noticing the fatigue in his face and the almost sad tone in his voice. As she turned, Swiss appeared at the end of the hall, looking at her expression and Copia walking away from her. "What's wrong Ro?" he placed a hand on her head. "He hasn't stopped ever since we got home. He looks so tired Swiss...I'm worried about him." Her tail drooped with her shoulders as she leaned against him. Swiss nodded and rubbed her arm, "Our Papa is stubborn, but hopefully he'll rest soon. It must be important if he hasn't yet."

Copia sat amongst several books, his scribbling rang throughout the silent room. The clock stroked midnight and he jumped slightly, groaning and setting his pencil down. Copia laid his head in his hands, a dull ache pulsing through his brain.

I can't... I can't stop working. What if they see me like this, weak...

He stood and left his things on the table, walking out of the library. As he made his way towards his room, the world suddenly tilted, time seemed to slow down as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. His head throbbed in pain and his limbs felt weak. Trying to move, he felt as though he weighed a ton. "H-help..." he croaked. He felt a pang of fear run through him.

Am I dying? No...please, I'm not ready.

Fatigue started taking over and his eyes were slipping shut. Footsteps came from down the hall, then they started pounding against the floor, sprinting towards him. "PAPA! Papa open your eyes please, can you hear me?!" His eyes barely opened to see Sodo leaning over him, holding his head. "Ghul...tired..so..tired" Copia let his eyes close as exhaustion took over. Sodo shook him and tears welled in his eyes, panicking and yelling for help. He held Copia's head in his lap, trying to make him as comfortable as he could. Moments later Mountain turned the corner and froze for a second, fearing the worst and ran to pick him up carefully, the two walked him to his room and called for a nurse. After checking him over she informed the ghouls that he seemed to be extremely exhausted, he had developed a fever as well. "His other vitals are very good, he will be alright with plenty of sleep." She nodded at them and slipped out of the room. Sodo slumped in the chair across from Copia's bed. His shoulders jumped as a small cry left is lips. Mountain kneeled in front of him, gripping his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I thought he was...and all I could think of was Terzo...I cannot lose someone else. Especially not him." Mountain frowned as his heart ached at Sodo's words. The ghouls loved their papas dearly, and ever since Terzo they have been very protective over Copia. "He will be okay, let us leave him to rest. We can check on him later, I will have Aether watch the door so he does not try and go working again." He patted Sodo's shoulder before pulling him up and out of the room. They went to the den with the others and informed them of Copia's state. Everyone's ears and tails fell and sadness and worry permeated the air. Cirrus spoke up, "I know we're worried about him, but let's also try not to be overbearing when we go see him. Try not to talk down to him, or yell at him for being so reckless. He'll have learned his lesson from this." Everyone nodded and started to move to their rooms for the remainder of the night.

Day came and Copia started to awaken, feeling extremely groggy, but better that he had gotten some rest. As he went to move, he felt a weight on his legs, and something cocooning him on either side. His eyes sprung open to see several ghouls piled into his bed. Cumulus, Cirrus and Sunshine on his sides, and Phantom, Aurora and Swiss were at his feet. Aether, Sodo and Mountain were standing on his left and smiling down at him. "Apologies Papa, but we couldn't convince them to not swarm you." Aether smirked. Sodo looked at him with big sad eyes, "You really gave me a fright Papa..." "All of us." "We just want you to take care of yourself." "We care about you very much." "If anything happened to you.." "We would be lost without you." (you may choose who says what I just didn't want a run on dialogue ahhh) Copia felt his heart swell up and tears pricked his eyes, he had never felt so loved, not even by his own mother. These wonderful creatures were his family...He cleared his throat and smiled down at all of them. "My dear ghulehs, mi dispiace, I did not mean to frighten you. I just...I have been so very focused on working so hard, so that the ministry takes me seriously. So that my m...Sister Imperator and Nihil take me seriously. You all mean so much to me as well. I will not push myself again, I promise. Thank you, for being here for me." Phantom and Aurora climbed up to embrace Copia, the others including the standing ghouls piled in for a giant hug, "Ai, you all are very heavy." Everyone started to laugh and held each other. Their strange and lovely family all together. <3

[sab-teraa]

Tye Talks: A Diary Entry

(22/02/24 || 22:58 pm)

Good evening friends, I hope you are all well and having a lovely Thursday! Just one more day till the weekend! Yay <3

Inspired by the lovely @the-winds-of-destiny-xxx , I've decided to start blogging about my day. Hopefully, I will be able to stay up to date lol.

Work

Ugh, I've been up since 5am prepping myself to deliver my second lecture of the semester. It went well, kinda. The students were super interactive which is great. Application + practicality > regurgitating information. They did super well. Also, we have a new HoD, and while I really liked our previous heads, the new HoD is a breath of fresh air and I really enjoy their approach towards education.

My full-time job is actually soooo … atm. My colleague has resigned which is all cool and I wish her the best.

But, there’s a trend I’ve noticed recently within our organization … and I hope it does not present any problems in the future. Tbh, I think it has presented a problem before … but idk. Anyway, constructive criticism goes a long long way … only if you’re keen and willing to learn …. which this person defo is NOT.

Enough about my colleagues, the CEO presented me with an opportunity but I'm lowkey nervous .. bc I prefer being a private + somewhat anonymous person lol, but I obviously said yes. Let's see how it goes, anything can happen and this whole project might fall through. Especially in this economy.

All in all, I really love my job and the career path I’ve taken. I hope it does not backfire on me later on in life.

Uni

Gosh. Uni is the bane of my existence atm. Tho, i did make a bit of progress on my thesis today. I know exactly what I need to do, but I just don't have the motivation to it. But, I think I've finally got myself together .. so let's see what happens.

Also, I'm so grateful for my thesis supervisor <3 she is so understanding and supportive.

Health

Is this tmi? Maybe? Apologies if so?

But, my nose and throat have been KILLING me recently? Idk if it’s bc of the fan or what … but yup. Thank god for cloves! They’ve helped wayyyy more than anything else I’ve tried lol. Also, my pms is really starting to hit 😭😭 I’ve been in soooo much pain since I got back home.

My mentally, I’m doing okay … there’s obvs moments in the day where I’m like shit?? I’m an adult adult?? Yet my life feels so stagnant 😂 but then I try to keep it moving and not think so much about what I want … and I try to focus on what I do have…. bc I’ve done my best.

Fun and mundane

I finally got to go to my first gym class of the week - I really needed that! The housewives from my class invited me for smoothies afterwards … and they are so fun! Are they my mums age mates? Yes 😂😂 but I loved hanging out with them .. they truly live in their own bubble .. I wanna be exactly like them when I’m older lol.

Oh Oh! And I finally finished the second season of Al Rawabi School for Girls ... flip, it truly broke my heart. What an amazing show.

I really wanted to start the new season of Real Housewives of Durban … but the new Showmax app is truly YUCK! I have the ick 🫠🫠 but, I love the show waaaaay too much, so I’d probs get over it soon lol.

Other than gym and catching up on tv, I made a delicious lasagna for dinner. I'm convinced that my homemade meat sauce and cheese sauce remains undefeated, or maybe that's just me being cocky lol. If I had more space, I would have defo attempted to make the pasta too.

I'm super excited for this weekend bc my friends and I are going to this art and music event and getting food afterwards. I also really wanna buy that duvet set I saw online ... since I'm no longer purchasing an apartment (recession boo boo boo 🍅🍅🍅), I may as well just re-do my current apartment lol. It already looks great, but I've been putting off getting a new duvet set bc I presumed I was gonna buy a bigger bed lol... so I've just been rotating between the two sets I have ... and damn they've seen better days lol.

Relationships

After all he has been through, my brother finally has some great things happening. I am so proud of him. I know he will achieve everything he aspires to <3 This has also done wonders for his self-confidence, he truly needed this, and I hope ... I really hope that it stays on this positive track.

Positive family news aside, idk if anyone saw the post about my uncle? But god damn I'm annoyed af. (Side note: He is my mums cousin btw; but my entire family is close). Anyway, my uncle called my mum to rant … and according to my mum he was sooooo proud of what he said to his wife??? I’m just disgusted. Idk how. His wife could forgive him for this. I’m so glad my mum put him in his place ✋🏽✋🏽✋🏽

I know its not about me and I have no right to speak on other people's relationships, but I hate seeing people put their all into a relationship and even go against their own family to be with someone ... only for their partner to treat them like this. His wife deserves soooooo much better and its sooo heartbreaking that she has to go through. My heart truly breaks for her. I pray everything works out for her.

Conclusion

Anywho … if you made it this far! Thank you for reading my ramblings <3 wishing you a lovely day! Stay safe babes 😘

[nevaronn]

Tangled Up [Branches In A Flood] Chapter 3: Weathering is now live on AO3, FFN, and LiveJournal (Links Below)!

Full Fic Links:

AO3 | FFN | LJ

New Chapter Links:

AO3 | FFN | LJ

______________________________________________

Hi Sweets!

This one is a little shorter because it's an in-between/palate cleanser, but I hope you enjoy her anyways! I wanted to include this scene somewhere, but it just didn't fit with any of the other chapters so here she is by herself.

I will be quickly pivoting away from Tangled Up for a bit to write Yumichika's birthday fic, but don't worry! I've been very excited to reach the next chapter, so hopefully she'll come out of my fingers well enough ;)

As always, your comments, questions, or constructive criticism is always appreciated! I love hearing from you guys, it always makes me feel better and gives me motivation to write!

I'll probably drop off for a bit between chapters-- the academic year has started, and as a grad student I have to teach this semester, so I'll be very busy.

Anyways, you guys are the best, I'm going to go finish an assignment and then go take a very nice sleep :)

All the love,

Nev

[parvamundi]

The new year is fast approaching and I think it's high time that we (I'm talking the RPC we in general, but humans at large works too) start treating ourselves and each other with more respect. Post what you want (within reason), but be conscientious of folks and their potential trauma. Unfollow/block/or just don't follow in the first place blogs you don't see interacting with for any reason, if interaction is what you're looking for. Communicate like the adults we supposedly are, as you are able within your own abilities. Don't send shithead anons!!! Keep your space safe for yourself by curating your dash and experience. Respect rules and boundaries ffs. Have a question for someone? Reach out! But do so from a good place. The written word can't always convey emotions or intent well or properly, so please choose your wisely when inquiring about something or giving a constructive piece of criticism. Allow people to make mistakes and learn from them. If they don't, that's on them, and you are fully allowed to move on. Be kind, but take no shit either.

I don't know why I'm posting this. I'm just growing so tired of constantly seeing disrespect and such on my dash because people can't handle themselves. Hopefully the above rant makes some sense because I'm still sick and beyond stressed from the holidays lol anyway. Just do your best to be good, okay?

[trax2115]

A SHOW IDEA THAT I WANT TO MAKE REAL ONE DAY (really long post)

this is gonna be a HUGE little rant thing because i love talking about my ideas, future ideas, concepts. etc etc

i just realized i never said anything about this but uhh, for months ive been dreaming on wanting to make this string (I've always had in mind) come true

at first it was going to be a joke play with the huge inspiration of gumball. hes based on this joke episode i made called "Lil H". a baku inspired series (by sethical)

at the first point, he was literally gonna be called Lil h, LITERALLY. but I thought of a different name for him, and i named him "douglas dinget". it was a stupid name. the first image is the first concept idea i had for him if i actually wanted to take his design seriously . (its uhm... pretty old!). second image is the actual concept drawing when i thought of him having his own show (not a serious design take obviously LOL)

for 2nd image, he's just sonic but with a square cap hat, long gloves, basically a frickin recolor/edit LOL. it was funny when I imagined how he would look if I animated him and the background is just a realistic school. and then i thought of making his name "douglas tucker". i think him having that name is pretty cool and funny

his inspiration is a mixture of a chibi figure (like gumball) and his animations would be peanuts esque. like the way how he would walk, run, slip, etc etc. BASICALLY how peanuts characters are animated. i really loved imagining that as a test animation for this design, never really did it tho. im still learning animation

now this is where i suddenly had a new idea. i imagined "what if douglas had a girlfriend and she was a cactus? because cactuses and hedgehogs are spiky.." and this is where the design comes in

her name is KATHERINE STERLING!!!!! OMLLLL!!! (also a HALF redesign on Douglas)

this was the third character i thought of tho. second character is a "My melody" rip off LOL. (which she WILL be redesigned soon)

and also heres a joke ass image i drew a while ago LOL (it says LIL H in japanese)

you see the mario right there? yea that was literally gonna be his design until i remembered nintendo going to everyone "uhm. FUCK YOU you arent allowed to use this character named "mario" or any other mario characters anymore! make up your own design or make your own creations!" and thats what i legit did (not rlly LMAO)

heavily inspired by the chowder mario (definitely changing his design somewhere later)

stupid name for him, it was on purpose too sense uh... JOKE SHOOWWW!!! this is still gonna be a joke show, and the first episode were legit pngs (like i said, baku inspiration.) and if i all of a sudden make episode 2 a huge gumball inspiration and have these art styles like THIS? oohhhhhooo that would be a huge glow up.

anyways im cutting to the main part. heres the main cast idea

i dont really got anything to say about claire, other than being a ocho rip off LMAO

well not really a rip off but like, she could overreact a lot. she doesnt do stuff harmful or anything, like causing damage and other stuff like that. shes not THAT aggressive basically. she MIGHT become a scrapped character. (unless if a team is formed for this show and someone knows how to put a 8 bit pixel character in a high resolution show, just like ocho)

okay now i want to show you the months that went by with DT's design, i just cant type any longer to show this i geniunely wanted to say all of that just so you can get on the path before i, PROBABLY, make this show a real thing

Huge glow up a little bit, right? hopefully you think the same as me with this design

constructive criticism is allowed btw. i would LOVE to hear more ideas from you guys if youre interested.

now heres his new design in line with the main cast

now i wanna talk about the

PERSONALITIES!!!

DOUGLAS: Douglas is normal about almost everything. it would be VERY rare to see douglas scared. he is extremely calm about stuff. he is tough. he doesnt take his rage out on anyone. even if some people would try to start a fight with him. he's a strong teen and he KNOWS he would knock someone out with one punch. its rare for him to get angry because he knows how strong he is. Lets just say hes kind of the opposite of gumball. Gumball can sometimes get scared when someone is raging at him (mostly people he knows who are STRONGER than him.) hes basically a wimp LOL. douglas is the opposite of that basically. douglas just does his own without meeting any new kid unless if they want to meet him (its best for him to wait if someone wants to be friends with him first)

KATHERINE: Katherine Is a very nice and polite person. but she can overreact sometimes and get mad at douglas if he says or does something that she doesnt like at all, especially if douglas makes a joke compliment to her. she basically hits douglas multiple times on the head. usually when she does that to her friends it hurts them but douglas barely feels anything when she does it to him LMAO

HADIZA: She trys to act tough like douglas despite the fact that douglas doesnt even try to act tough at all. she basically has the personality of gumball a little bit. she trys to stand up and be a more "scarier" person, trying to scare the big character. but when the big character makes a furious noise back at her, she would bunny hop away from them fast

CLAIRE: like i said earlier, "She could overreact a lot. she doesnt do stuff harmful or anything, like causing damage and other stuff like that. shes not THAT aggressive basically."

JACKSON: Jackson Is, to put it in short, a bit of a asshole. LMAO. basically jackson is always tired and can sometimes have aggresive tones. its very common for him. douglas has gotten use to his aggressiveness because theyve being friends ever since they were in kindergarten. Jackson has been getting tired of the world throughout the years.but luckily douglas and jackson are always staying communicated everyday. they never missed a single day not communicating. they are basically BEST best friends.

THE CLASSMATES & TEACHER (W.I.P.)

dont really have that much to say about the classmates. i got 5 more designs to create till the number of students is completed. i dont have that much to say about the teacher either. but i do know its gonna be REALLY HARD figuring out how to animate her. but i REALLY want this show to be good whenever the next episode comes out. i REALLY want these guys to be animated in the style i want them to be animated in

and here are douglas parents!!!

heres some old concepts, ideas, and just some shit for fun LOL

i really love showing my stuff

welp uh. THATS BASICALLY IT! i really love ranting about my

concept ideas and stuff when i think it would be awesome if it was a real thing

if you actually read through this whole entire post THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING IT! it took me like 2 or 3 hours to make this whole entire post. hope i used good grammar and wording on this post

woohoo!!!

[whatwh]

Witherburn update!

I'm still quite enjoying it, but I have some (hopefully constructive) criticisms. Do not take this as me not liking the show, I do and really recommend it! I just have a love for stories and spotted some small things here and there. Please do not feel the need to care about these ramblings. I know alot of it has to do with the fact it's new. These are small things with no impact on the actual story someone with little to no experience thought I might as well say something about.

First of all, how does she get the updates? Often in the middle of a episode is almost seems like someone is listening and texting her new info on what she's taking about. This would make sense normally, but our reporter claims to be anonymous. Another is from the most recent episode. So spoilers! Go listen!

This episode is about a school football game, the most interesting part of said game happens during the halftime, and she seems to get a live update again. This would make it seem like the game is at halftime, but at the end of the 15 minute video she gives the outcome of the game. Football games are normally 3ish hours long, halftime at 1 30. This means 1 hour and 30 min of time passed in (roughly) 15 min.

I do not believe in just criticizing so this is my possible solutions!

For the first, if she's popular enough you can give her a social media account or website where people can DM her info while she stays anonymous. It also makes it practical for people to give the sudden updates. I know this isn't a detail that matters to most, but I think too much so. (Insert the shrugging emoticon.)

The other one could have sounded like clips from a much longer (for lack of a better word) stream. This could also have comedic potential of random snippets of the reporter entertaining herself or telling odd stories as she waits for updates. Just a few to give the illusion of time passing, and it could end with her saying something about the games being long.

Again. I quite enjoy this podcast. That does not make it perfect. That makes it worth listening to anyway. I recommend.

[tanjic]

so far this only a rough draft cover art for my own original Manga . I need to plan everything out story wise and write everything down before I draw the panels and pages. Anyways hopefully I can finish this Manga and post the 1st chapter on here. Might be awhile . I'd ideally like my own Manga series to be published in Japan in jappanese as well. The goal is 20 volumes, but right now my main focus is getting volume 1 finshed and completed. Also I'm trying really hard to get better at drawling, don't be too harsh. Constructive criticism is welcomed though. My Manga is called Desolate Lie. #Desolate Lie

[arosebyanyother-name]

My new Doc Cochran fic is well on it’s way, almost 8000 words, but I’m working on it slowly. Without revealing any of the plot, as I may choose to rewrite part or most of it, as I have done to other chapters in the past, I’m wordering what would be considered too angsty or too intimate. It’s nothing we haven’t seen in the show, I just don’t want to share anything that will be too much, whatever that means, but as always of course I will be as true to the characters as I can be (I think I do alright in this respect, but if anyone thinks otherwise please tell me so I can try to improve! I’ll happily take constructive criticism!). I’m not writing anything extreme or distasteful I promise!

Anyways, hopefully this new chapter will be out soon-ish… we’ll see I guess, I’ll try my best :)

[unknownarmageddon]

Hey uh. Just so you know please don’t like. Randomly give me criticism, constructive or not, on my art unless Im actively asking for it

I know anyone who does it means well but. And this isn’t me saying I can’t take criticism it’s just when I don’t ask for it it feels a bit nitpicky??? Cause I’m just here to share my art with people that will hopefully enjoy it I’m not here to get criticism on my work Anyway please refrain from doing that unless I’m explicitly asking for it

[bonesandthebees]

4, 8, and 37 for the ask game!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

...the plot bunny i've been carrying around for longest? oh god. I have so many this isn't even funny. but I guess out of the plot bunnies I still have that I still think about doing something with even though I know I won't (again, this is not the oldest one I have I have ones MUCH older, but this is the one I still really wish I could get myself to write)

when I was watching that netflix series based off anna delvey the scam artist I came up with an idea for a crimeboys scam artist au. the two pose as a pair of brothers with uber wealthy parents and sneak their way into the world of the rich and powerful totally through bullshit, and end up stealing a ton of money. they get caught and get arrested, and the story was going to be told in a news article format which I had a lot of fun writing a few snippets of. hopefully I'll get it done one day! I still really love the idea

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

answered that here!

37. when creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

hm I'm guessing this is referring to ocs? I'm gonna answer it like it is. anyway, I haven't made any new ocs in a while, but usually personality was always what I'd come up with first. who the person is on a deeper level. how they think, how they interact with others, etc etc. then I'd come up with motivation or appearance, usually saving backstory for last

like I said though it's been a long time since I've made an oc, and I think I've learned a lot as a writer since then. so my process would probably be a bit different if i did it now.

ask game!

[spacejammie-eimmajecaps]

For the fanfic writing meme...YOU pick 10 numbers YOU want to answer! I want to see which ones of those most excite your or you have the most to say.

My attention span is horrible right now tbh, I couldn't even read through the whole list. So these are the 10 that stood out to me when I was skimming it over:

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

One-shots because they are quick and easy (for the most part). Multi-chaps take so much more effort. Although, multi-chaps are more satisfying to finish. Pros and cons with each. I do miss one-shots, though. Been a very long time since I've written one.

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I used to only write as I went, which was honestly so fun. I'd surprise myself with unintended plot twists and stuff like that. But now I plan ahead, and that's very necessary for a story like SGB, which is very long, detailed, and packed with subplots. I will say, though, that while there is a plan, I let the chapter change as needed if the plan isn't working or I think of something better while drafting, and sometimes I add scenes last minute (or cut entire scenes if it just doesn't feel like it's working). Having a plan is good, knowing when to be flexible is also good.

Do you like constructive criticism?

Depends on what that looks like.

If someone wants to point out a typo, I'll be appreciative (and I do actually have a fandom friend who used to message me when she found typos in my posted works, which I am grateful for). And if there is an obvious mistake, I don't mind it being pointed out (for example, I was messing up the serve order in games and someone very kindly pointed that out, so I fixed it, and I'm very happy that they pointed it out so that I didn't keep making that mistake).

But if someone said things like, "I don't like how you wrote that" or "that character would never do that" or "you should write that differently" or anything relating to like, personal preference, I'd be annoyed and not grateful at all.

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

I used to be able to bang out 10-12k words in a day, back when my health wasn't so bad. Granted, the quality of those 10-12k words wasn't great at all, and part of why I write slower now is because I'm thinking about a lot more technical aspects that I used to be unaware of. Anyway, these days I can maybe get 3k written on a very good day, but 500-1000 in a day is more realistic for me now.

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Take a break, read books and watch shows, rest, re-read what I've already written, etc.

What’s your revision or editing process like?

1. Rough draft

2. Fill in details and missing elements

3. Focus setting/sensory details and add last minute details

4. Check that dialogue/body language matches each character (usually end up adding a few more little details as well)

5. Make sure the chapter as a whole makes sense, cut anything unnecessary, check for consistency

6. Proofreading (check line by line for typos and grammar issues)

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

There are some fics I like to re-read maybe once a year or so, and sometimes I read a fic twice in a row if I really liked it. I'd probably re-read things much more frequently if I wasn't so busy writing.

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

Hopefully not still writing SGB😭😭😭

Why do you continue writing fics?

Because I'm bored and have nothing better to do, and more importantly, because I enjoy it.

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Chronological. I have to use my favorite scenes as a reward for getting that far in the story, so I don't allow myself to skip ahead.