#god I've been at this for an hour and i have less than a page... humiliating

[krispycreamsicle]

oh god

[127rkives]

</3 hotline bling || j. jaehyun </3

about? jaehyun misses her, but she’s on to bigger better things. (world’s worst synopsis but it’s the best i got bro) warnings? angst!!! fwb? non idol au. fem reader. mentions of sex, alcohol use, drug use (weed). i think that's all. wc? 1.7k notes? another old repost👹

you used to call me on my cellphone late-night when you need my love

************************************************ 3 months, 1 week, and 4 days. that’s how long it had been since jaehyun last saw you. but, hey, who's counting? if he had been, he would have succumbed to that void feeling in his chest by now. the one created by you but ultimately worsened by his own actions. his own actions ruined the best thing he ever had. but it was your fault too, right? 

if you didn't have such an illuminating smile, such a feather-light yet addicting touch, such an effervescent personality, such a radiant aura, then he the both of you wouldn't be in this situation. no. if you hadn't wanted something more and jaehyun hadn't been too scared of ruining a good thing even though he knew you deserved more—deserved better. he knew you deserved the world and the stars along with it, but he was so afraid he couldn't give it to you. so he cowered behind his thoughts; he dismissed the relationship you had, shutting you out in the process. 

thankfully, you had a mind of your own. you knew better than to remain where you weren't wanted. you knew your worth. that's probably why jaehyun had that constant ache in his chest, that pang in his heart. the void. 

he was expecting you to dismiss the fact that he couldn't come to terms with himself you and continue with the late-night phone calls. sneaking out of the apartment at 1 and 2 in the morning—when he thought everyone was asleep—to spend hours at your place. half naked smoke sessions with deeply thought out conversations lingering in the air with every puff. or hot nights in your room that always seemed to end with clothes scattered here and there, fluffy comforter somehow still clinging to a corner of the bed, and the sheets tangled around only you because he was never there when you woke up. ’he had better, more important things to do.’ you would convince yourself. but when you finally stopped gaslighting yourself with that excuse, you realized he couldn't face his own music.

************************************************ ever since i left the city, yougot a reputation for yourself noweverybody knows and i feel left outgirl, you got me down, you got me stressed out'cause ever since i left the city, youstarted wearing less and goin' out moreglasses of champagne out on the dance floorhangin' with some girls i've never seen before

************************************************ guilt. jealousy. anger. sadness. utter outrage. one of these emotions—possibly even a mixture—was grasping at jaehyun's heart and yanking at the strings right now. even so, he couldn’t stop rewatching the clip on his phone in front of him. it wasn’t like he meant to find you. he just happened to be scrolling through the explore page on instagram and much to his sudden disbelief you were the thumbnail on some video. against his better judgment (of course) he clicks the video, watching you hold a cup of God-knows-what in the air as your body hazily sways in a sea of people inside of what looks to be a club. jaehyun’s face is still one of shock as the girl recording yells something cringey about all of her friends being ‘badies’ and ‘hot girls’ and continues to survey each of her friends, including you, while everyone gets more excited with the new song’s change of pace.

it could’ve been all in his head but that video seemed way longer than the allotted one minute. jaehyun doesn’t know how many times he watches the video before he decides to click on the girl’s profile (a bad decision on behalf of his 2 functioning brain cells). his thumbs seemed to move on their own as he scrolled down her page and searched through countless posts of herself, her with her family, and her with her friends. jaehyun couldn’t pry his eyes from the screen as he clicked on a picture with you in it, hoping you would be tagged. you were, of course, so he clicked. another mistake on his part.

your username and bio were both different. even though jaehyun hadn’t visited your profile in a while, he did remember the main details of it. jaehyun repeated his earlier actions and examined your page this time. there were posts of yourself. you and your dog. you and your family. you and this new group of friends he had never seen until now. you and some man? you and this man hugging, holding hands, kissing, traveling, eating out together? you and jaehyun used to tell each other about everything, and you had certainly never mentioned him before. you people aren’t supposed to move on this fast. hell, jaehyun hadn’t even moved on. he still listened to the playlist you two had created together. he still dreamed about you. he still woke up with the lingering touches of you on his body as if you had been beside him moments before. he still had late-night venting sessions with taeyong as he sniffled and wiped his teary face after genuinely expressing what he was never able to tell you face-to-face.

but, here you were. you had completely evolved from the person jaehyun knew almost 6 months ago. you weren’t the same girl who posted simple photos of herself in cute, comfortable outfits captioned with inspirational quotes, or wholesome reviews of the new greek mythology book you had bought at your favorite, cozy bookstore. this was some girl who had grown to almost a 80,000 followers in just 6 months. this was some girl who posted pointless photos of her newest hermes purse; some girl whose wardrobe would alternate between burberry pantsuits and louboutin heels, to nike tracksuits and air force ones, to what could very well be some bundle of strings fashion nova tries to pass off as a dress. this new girl—this new you—was copacetic, thriving, and glowing. you were happy with this seemingly very outgoing group of people who the old you would’ve never thought about fraternizing with. worst of all, the new you appeared to be enjoying life with some guy that wasn’t jaehyun. jaehyun’s a complete mess without you laying next to him at 2 in the morning and you were supposed to be the same. he was supposed to have the same crippling effect on you as you did on him. 

apparently, jaehyun had been sitting in his whirlwind of thoughts long enough for his phone to lock. he pulled himself out of his trance and made his only decent decision of the day. he went to find taeyong, knowing he would still be awake and available to examine whatever emotional baggage jaehyun had this time. he told taeyong about his earlier revelations (leaving out the part about your apparent love interest). “why don’t you just talk to her? tell her how you actually feel.” weren't the words he expected to hear. he didn't know what to expect, honestly. 

as jaehyun laid in his bed he picked up his phone with shaky hands. when he unlocked it, he felt another tug at his heartstrings, forgetting that his phone had locked on a gorgeous post of your beaming smile while he was in a daze earlier. the time on his phone read 1:46 A.M. he didn't want to call you. you might not pick up. but he wanted an immediate response. jaehyun needed validation right now. he silently prayed that your number hadn't changed along with everything else during your productive time away from him. he opened his messages and clicked on your name; ’y/n💛’. jaehyun smiled to himself as he looked at the last messages sent between the two of you. you had been sending memes back and forth, with the last message before the hiatus being three emojis expressing your laughter. 

jaehyun pondered for a few moments on what to type. ’yo y/n it's me.’ ’hey it's me, jaehyun.’ ’hey y/n we haven't talked in a while.’ he wasted a good twenty minutes overthinking, typing, and erasing potential conversation starters. then he just decided to pour out what was left of his heart. fuck it.

he didn't expect you to reply quickly, but he wanted you to, so jaehyun kept his phone unlocked and open to your messages as he waited. he had peeked two minutes after hitting send, but he didn't notice it then. jaehyun let five more anxious minutes pass before checking again. he almost didn't notice it that time, but somehow he managed to spot it.

the small subscript under his message. ’read’

jaehyun didn't know if it was him being delirious with fatigue or the actual fact of you acknowledging but ignoring him, but his breathing got short and shaky and his tears started to roll. it was finally happening. that void feeling in his chest—in his heart—that place where special memories of you were kept, had finally drawn him in and suffocated him with the realization that you didn't want him anymore, didn’t need him anymore. you no longer needed jaehyun to bring you the pleasures of life. for all he knows now, you never really did.

likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

this work is property of me, 127rkives! no copying, reposting, translating, etc.!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi, congrats on 5K followers, I love your stories, I've just started following you and by chance, I found your "Gentle Worship" while looking for something interesting about Keegan and I'm happy to have come across a page with a lots of weel-written and interesting stories :)) I have had a look at the characters you write about and after intense evaluation I would like to ask you to kill me with an intense domestic fluff with Gary "Roach" Sanderson, where Gary came home the night before his due date, exhausted after an intense and dangerous OP, and finds f!reader dancing wild and singing "The Nights" by Avicii while preparing Gary's favorite biscuits and he watches her in awe because she is very out of tune and never sings in front of him. Have a nice day and congratulations again :))

—Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

The door was unlocked and the music was blaring, and that alone made him more nervous than he’d been the past three months. Gary had just come home—back to you, back to your warmth and the scent of your shared home. While exhausted, nothing could wake him up more than your safety potentially being on the line.

He knew best, music to block out any noise; an unlocked door—a remnant of something gone wrong. 

Gary drops his bags on the steps and barrels through, hand already reaching for the gun set in the back of his belt as his eyes gain a sheen of panic. Nevermind his aches and pains—the desperate burn for sleep behind his eyes, no, his heart was hammering as fast as a hurricane; hard in his breast. Boots hitting the rugs you’d placed in the entryway, he blinks quickly and scans the area. 

Yet with the barrier gone, Gary can hear far better. All at once, the man’s body sags with relief at what his ears twitch to. 

Singing. Off-tune, off-key, feminine singing. 

Your singing. 

The silent man sighs long and puts a hand to his face, rubbing into his eye sockets firmly to push back the pounding of his skull. Blond tendrils of his hair obscure his gaze, waiting only a second to take it all in before he sets them back with his fingers. 

Standing like a fool in the foyer with his gun drawn and the door open to a dark, rainy sky, the Sergeant shakes his head with a growing smile and slips the weapon away. On his way to slowly grab his bags and shut the door—which he’d have to speak to you about being locked when he was away—he listens. 

Hell, how could he not? 

Gary hums along to the song, loud beside your own voice. You weren’t trying to sing seriously, he knows, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful to him. Even your little voice cracks and the embarrassed laugh you lend yourself after makes him have to push back a bright grin. You were just…adorable. Truly. 

God, he was so happy to be back. 

Closing and flicking the lock, Gary pushes off his boots with a tiny grunt, peeling off his jacket over his fatigues before hooking it to the wall. With silent feet, he pads to the kitchen, where a familiar smell makes his nose twitch.

You didn’t sing often, and you baked even less, but the scent in the air was unmistakable. Chocolate chip cookies. A hint of cinnamon. Gary’s eyes brighten as he comes closer to the kitchen entrance—brown butter.

His favorite. 

Those eyes blink at you as he comes to a stop by the wall, hands resting in his pockets as he gazes at you with a wide-eyed love. The man takes a moment, breathing it in before he smiles small-like and leans to the side, resting his shoulder on the frame. 

Gary’s eyes don’t leave you as he watches your form sway back and forth, singing as you bring out another batch of cookies from the oven; taken out and placed on the counter. Tens already laid out to cool—scores that the man himself could, admittingly, eat in about an hour. 

He stays there for who knows how long, smiling like a kid on Christmas, before he finally makes himself known by knocking on the wall twice with his knuckles. Gary raises a teasing brow when your singing is immediately cut off by a loud curse.

Eyes meet him, and just like his own action from before, you sag when you notice who it is, tension bleeding to love.

“Gary!” He chuckles, moving forward as you barrel into him—laughing loudly and squealing. “You’re back early! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” 

The Sergeant hums, kissing all over your face until you’re burning up like you were sitting in front of a fire. Finally, he meets your mouth, arms picking you up from around your hips and pulling you up as he stays lip-locked with you. Fingers going through his hair, you return it with a giggle as he places you on the counter. 

Gary leaves for only a moment to put another batch of cookies in, before coming back over and slotting himself in between your legs, arms around your waist and head going to push under your chin. You gently card your hands through his hair, burying your face into it and whispering out, “I can’t believe you let me keep singing like that—how long were you there?”

The man chuckles under you, squeezing your body tighter and kissing the flesh above your clothes absentmindedly. You can feel his smirk as plain as day as he blinks, his lashes fluttering.

“You’re a troublemaker, Sanderson,” you mutter into his hair, Gary sighing like a pleased cat. “But I’m glad you’re back home to me…Tired?” 

He shrugs slowly, grunting as if unable to focus above the all-encompassing being that was you. If the Sergeant had a heaven destined for him after all of what he’d done, the scene in this kitchen would be the very definition of it—down to the cracks in the tile and how you kissed his head. The warmth in the air. 

He pulls back suddenly, your music still playing, and drags you with him, placing your feet down carefully before he sends you a sly look with a raised brow.

“Gary?” You ask, confused but grinning as he moves to put a hand around your waist and set your own on his shoulders. 

He tilts his head at you and begins taking small steps that you mirror. The man’s eyes are imploring, and they ask one simple thing—dance with me?

It’s infectious, the way he watches as if the world around you didn’t matter. 

How could you ever say no?

And so, in the warmth of the kitchen, cookies wafting on the air and your shared laughter ringing out along the house, you dance on tired feet. It isn’t elegant, but it is beautiful. How you step on his toes, how he nearly trips on the chair leg and you have to hold him up as he laughs like a schoolboy, leaning over you. 

A dance, not of skill, and a song, not of promise, but both of one thing that mattered more than all else. 

Love that seeps out of skin and eyes—that staples the essence of souls together far beyond all that they’ve been given. 

[ikroah]

I've given everything I have, didn't know I'd run up such a tab, Oh, Lord, ain't the reapin' ever done? —“Ain’t the Reapin’ Ever Done,” Eddie Noack (1972)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #25 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding IV

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

At long last! As I've mentioned a few times, this issue got...delayed because I spent 2023 getting divorced, falling in love again, going outside, touching grass, laughing, playing, et cetera. But even if you toss all that aside this issue would still have been a doozy because I've been wanting to try an issue in this artstyle, and with a much large page size, for...well, for over a year now, ha. The thumbnails for this issue are nearly a whole year old!

Usually I have a lot of fun commentary about how a script changes over the course of working on an issue, or how the production panned out, but the making of this issue has been stretched over such a long time that I can't even begin to really describe it. Lemme just show you the original pencils so we can get out of here and move onto the next one, which will hopefully take far less than the time it takes to carry a pregnancy to term.

Oh, actually, there is one thing! If you spotted this happy couple on the first page, then check out @memepipboy's comics too.

Also, here's Vulpes in the dead Yamcha pose.

Which is also about how I feel after going on a bender of productivity last week to get the whole issue colored before it slipped away again.

Original Pencils:

Transcript:

EXT. NEW VEGAS STRIP. A small plaza outside the casinos is flushed with lights and people, all coming and going, even at such a late hour. The crowd is monitored by the Strip's POLICE SECURITRONS. Two people are exiting a casino: ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, and

MESSENGER: AGNES SANDS!

AGNES: Oh God, I'm--

AGNES: --wait, are you NCR?

The MESSENGER that has called out AGNES' name is a surly and middle-aged man in uniform.

MESSENGER: Correct, ma'am. I'm a messenger.

AGNES: Courier, huh.

CASS: Hell do you want, boot boy? We're busy.

MESSENGER: Your presence is requested at the embassy on the south side of the Strip.

The exchange has caught the eye of a BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER.

AGNES: You said requested, as opposed to, um, required?

MESSENGER: Yes. I'll be blunt with you, Sands: the incident near Gecko and your subsequent desertion have made you a fugitive of military police since 2269. I'm sure you know that--but this is not an arrest.

MESSENGER: This isn't even about your personal case, necessarily. It's only from chance reports at the Mojave Outpost and Boulder City that intelligence was made aware of your presence here at all. The NCR merely wants to let you know that you--as well as your companion--are persons of interest to us in two of our other open investigations: the Legion raid on Nipton, and recent terrorist attacks on merchants in the area such as Crimson Caravan.*

CAPTION: *Various events of IKROAH #7-16. -Lou.

MESSENGER: There's also some other matters, which are classified.

CASS, at AGNES' side, listens intently. Then she glares at AGNES, who is grimacing but avoiding her eye contact.

MESSENGER: Now, our intelligence officers only want to speak to you, not arrest you. So there should be no cause for alarm or any worry on your part. It's your choice to come to us willingly--and on your own time. But--

AGNES sweats nervously.

MESSENGER: My orders are to make this next part very clear. This is merely the current state of our interest in you and your companion. If your presence does become required, as opposed to merely requested, by the NCR--and it very well may--

MESSENGER: --consider this a nice, friendly notice. I'm here because the NCR knows where you are. And the NCR wanted you to know that, because it wants you to keep it in mind as you mull over whether--and when--you might be feeling co-operative. That is all. We'll be in touch, Miss Sands.

The MESSENGER departs. The BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER observed the entire exchange. The moment that the MESSENGER is gone, he speaks:

BYSTANDER: Ahh...I must admit, it does make me glad when people discuss my work.

AGNES: W-what?

CASS: Pardon?

BYSTANDER: And it was fortunate, as it turns out, that you were spared that night in Nipton.

AGNES: Oh...oh no--

CASS: --YOU?

BYSTANDER: Very fortunate indeed--

The BYSTANDER grins.

BYSTANDER: --that you were spared from the burning tires, spared from the teeth of the dogs, spared even from the cross and stake--all of this, there, was the finest work yet of VULPES INCULTA--against the profligates of the west, and for the glory and the might of CAESAR'S LEGION.*

CAPTION:*IKROAH #9. -Lou.

AGNES and CASS are transfixed where they stand, taken aback by the reveal. CASS scowls while AGNES squirms with terror. She remembers:

The raging fires and the horror show of NIPTON. Crucified bodies and dogs to eat the corpses.

VULPES: During our talk in Nipton, I admittedly became quite curious about you, Agnes. You had intrigued me for some reason, and I wanted to know what it was. Only later did I finally place it.

Her hands up in front of her face, a futile barrier between herself and three men. Benny. His gun, pointed at her, shining in the light from the moon and the lantern.

VULPES: A tabloid story from the news on the radio. A courier shot in the head near Goodsprings Cemetery.

The SECURITRON with the cowboy face, VICTOR, carried her out of her grave. Or so she was told.

VULPES: --who miraculously returned from the grave. It was you.

There were three men. Two besides Benny. She found them later, one was dead and the other had two more with him.

VULPES: It was also you, as I would later discover...who slaughtered that pack of Great Khans in Boulder City. Clearly no ordinary courier.

VULPES: Why, even now, you assassinate the leader of the Chairmen in his own casino--in his own bedroom, no less. Very impressive.

AGNES: But how did you--

VULPES: Know? From one saboteur to another, I do have to commend you, Agnes. You're quite covert...for someone who had no reason to realize that she was already being watched, that is. Just as we have been watching Benny, the dearly departed.

VULPES grins wider.

VULPES: My network of frumentarii have detected something of a conspiracy in Vegas...something about a certain piece of platinum, I hear. Which reminds me--the mail has gotten so unreliable lately, don't you think?

AGNES is visibly panicked as VULPES continues.

VULPES: The NCR'S interest in you is not misplaced, Agnes Sands, given your recent exploits.

CASS is suddenly going down the casino steps--

VULPES: But I doubt that they are as quite aware of the bigger picture as--

--and raising her fist, and--

VULPES: the--

--punching VULPES in the face.

SFX: WHAM!

VULPES is flung to the ground, his nose bloodied. One of his teeth have been knocked clean from his mouth. He stares upward, in disbelief, up at the furious woman who's laid him out.

VULPES: Ah...yes. Rose of Sharon Cassidy. I've--

PTOOEY. A wad of spit splats against VULPES' cheek. CASS points a finger at him as he shuffles back onto his feet.

CASS: Get my name out of your mouth right now. I'm not afraid of you. You just piss me off. And unless you get lost I'll deck you so hard that you forget my name. Hopefully how to form complete sentences, too.

CASS: I think we've heard enough, you goddamn dogfucker, and whatever you're selling, we don't fucking want any.

VULPES: Ah...so no less impudent than last time, despite...well.

VULPES wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand, muttering from behind his palm in LATIN.

VULPES: Sī cognōscere nōn vīs canis senex tum nēquam praeter futuendum eris.

VULPES reaches his bloody hand toward his dislodged hat.

VULPES: Agnes--the Legion has a particular use for you, a use which comes with certain courtesies that are not extended to your companion.

VULPES: ...she would do well to keep this in mind.

VULPES returns his hat to his head. AGNES has rejoined CASS at the base of the steps.

AGNES: "Use?" What use? I don't have anything--I mean, I'm not--whatever you--whatever the Legion wants with me, I don't know anything. About this, or about Benny. If you want the chip, I--

VULPES: Agnes, Agnes--you're a terrible liar. Or else just terribly naive.

VULPES turns to leave.

VULPES: If the NCR is interested in you, and they are, then seizing you for ourselves is certainly useful enough on its own. But truthfully, this isn't about the NCR. The Legion is interested in you--I am interested in you--because Mr. House is interested in you. You and that chip.

AGNES: Mr. House!? But I...no, no, I just thought the chip--

VULPES: Vale, courier. And vale, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And be safe in your travels, if you can help it--you never know when somebody might be watching.

As VULPES departs, a SECURITRON approaches behind AGNES and CASS, casting a shadow over the both of them.

[pinksatinsashes]

The end of the year is the best time of year for us self improvement obsessed girlies because the planners are out, everyone's making vision boards and its finally time to write a nice long list of New Years Resolutions and achieve precisely nothing! Nothing!

Then the end of that year comes and we start the cycle again, making lists, checking them twice, achieving absolutely nothing, staying exactly the same and sometimes worse! How exciting! :)

When I was 16 I thought I'd have my life together at 18...lol! When I was 18 I figured I'd be totally together when I was 20. I'm 20 now...I think I've genuinely gotten worse.

But this year I am determined! I have said absolutely no more, absolutely no way is another year going to pass me by and I'm going to be stuck here in the exact same place. I NEED change.

Your 20's are meant to be the 'best years of your life'!

This is probably the easiest I'm ever going to have it! I have no children, no husband and I don't pay rent yet, if I don't do it now I will never do it..I don't want this to be my life forever.

Want to know how I'm going to make this year my year? Keep reading.

About two weeks ago I coined 2024 as the year of the Glow Up and started to meticulously plan out exactly what I wanted out of it.

My main goals for 2024 are:

To Hit My Goal Weight.

To Save Up Enough Money to Move to London.

To Be 75% of my Dream Girl

There are tons of other things I want to achieve of course, but If I don't achieve those three 2024 would genuinely have been a waste of time for me.

Now a couple years ago I would've just written those two goals down, put them on a vision board and went about my business...but Oh No, not this time.

I had a nice long think about the person I wanted to be at the end of 2024, financially stable, clear skin, goal weight, ready to move in spring 2025, closer to God, found her signature scent.

Each of these goals had a wider theme:

Routine

Fitness and Body

Food

Skincare and Hygiene

Beauty & Makeup

Hair

Clothes

God

Books & Brains

Music

Budget

I fired up Notion, created a home page that had a sub page for every month and then finally I created the Overall page, which has a sub page for every Goal Category and then I broke down each goal into lots of SMART goals. (Specific Measurable Achievable Realistic Time-Based)

So my 'get down to my goal weight' goal became:

Fitness and Body:

[ ] Size 10 clothes or under and 140 lbs (I'm 5'9 with naturally big boobs so this is my ideal weight)

[ ] Hour Glass Figure, building up glutes and upper body

[ ] Maintain Goal Weight for at least 3 months

[ ] Able to Stair Machine for 10 minutes

[ ] Able to go on a full Run

[ ] Do at least one form of Excerise a day

[ ] At least one form of Excerise a day

[ ] Take the Dog on Daily Walks

Food:

[ ] Try 12 New Recipes

[ ] Learn How To Cook 4 Different Nigerian Recipes

[ ] Form Consistent Eating Routines

[ ] Eat out twice a month or less

[ ] Stay in a Caloric deficit until I reach my Goal Weight

See how much more specific this is?

Having my goals listed like this makes everything so much easier because I'm tackling multiple things at once. First I'm changing the majority of my goals to habits or tasks (things I can control) from outcomes (things I may not be able to control).

Now I know that if I do all of these things written out, staying in a caloric deficit and excising daily there's a 90% chance I'll reach my goal.

This is much more effective than writing an outcome with no plan on how to achieve it.

From here, I'll break the Goal Down Even Further, into monthly goals.

For example, to reach the goal weight Goal by the end of December, January may look like this:

Eat at 1500 calories a day or 10,500 calories a week (to allow for the high calorie company lunches I often attend as part of my work, I'll simply eat less on the other days

Go to the gym 4 times week,

Complete X Fitness plan

Go on one Dog walk a week

Meal Prep ever week.

Lose 10lbs

To Save enough Money to Move to London by the end of the year, January might look like this:

Prep for no Spend Months in Feb and March (stock up on skincare, budywash etc)

Meal plan every week

Sell £200 worth of clothes on Vinted to spend on Spring Wardrobe (I'm not buying any clothes unless I use the money I get from selling my current clothes)

Stick to Budget

My Goal to get Smarter and Stop Mindless Scrolling may look like this in January:

Read at least 1 book

Listen to 4 Podcast Episodes

Limit Social Media use to 1 hour a day

Write 6 Blog Posts

Watch one Documentary

Setting the tasks in this way also allows me to feel a sense of achievement, every month I'm able to tick off my goals which can increase my motivation, instead of writing down a list of things to do and forgetting about it until the end of the year. It also allows me to recognise when I'm going off track faster and adjust for the next month.

You see how this is better?

I was strategic in using notion because I knew that I could then use it not only to set out my goals, but as a home base, a setting point to house all the things I could use to achieve them.

Under each section I've also included a bunch of things to help me, the Food section for example has a list of my go to recipes, so that when I can't think of anything to eat and want to run over to the closest KFC I have something to choose from. The Hair section has a list of hairstyles I've done and the Pro's and Cons, the Skincare section has a list of the products I've tried, if I liked them and If they worked for me.

Each month has its own page with a section for each wider goal and a spot for me to have a monthly write up, detailing what works and what didn't work so I can change and approve the following month and prevent falling behind.

I'm determined to make this year my year so let me know if you'd like me to keep you updated, feel free to ask any questions or send them to my asks. Also let me know if you want my notion template, here's a little peak-

Till we speak again!

-hannah🤍

[st0ryf1lms]

fallen ➳ hal jordan

pairing: hal jordan x reader

word count: 523

genre/warnings: fluff, i guess??? a bit of angst if you squint, open ending but i might make a part 2 if i dont get lazy

synopsis: what if hal jordan told you that he’s fallen? based on fallen by lola amour.

a/n: OH MY GOD GUYS IM BACK FROM THE DEAD!! it’s been so hard trying to write while keeping up with the honor roll at the same time so i went ia for over a year 😭 this one’s not really that good but oh well better than nothing ig i swear i’ll do all the reqs in my inbox this summer anw enjoy this short drabble of my fave test pilot!! <3

edit: part 2 is now up!

Hal Jordan was not a man of commitment. Never was, never is, never will be. He deemed himself "too busy" for a committed relationship. Well, you couldn't really blame him, he actually is too busy for a relationship. Aside from being a test pilot, he was also a Green Lantern (more or less, a space cop). Being a Green Lantern meant he'd have to be at the Guardians' beck and call, even if it means ditching a flight that could pose as a real problem for his life as Hal Jordan.

But honestly speaking? He'd rather be at your beck and call. That's right, yours.

You may not know it, but you have Hal wrapped around your little finger. Heartbroken because of a date that went south? No problem, he'll fly over to your place in less than a minute with ice cream and watch some romcom movie while you cry your heart out to him. Stuck in a conversation you don't like? No worries, he'll scoot over to you and pull you out of it real smooth. Did I mention he's also your best friend? Yeah, as cliché as it sounds, Hal freaking Jordan fell real hard for his best friend.

Harold "Hal" Jordan, the notorious serial heartbreaker would rather be at your beck and call. So, is he too busy for a committed relationship? Yes, he is. But a committed relationship with you? He's definitely considered it and his answer is no. No, he'll never be busy for you.

Numerous nights he's practiced in the mirror, went to go grab a drink that turns into six and gets a really bad hangover the next morning, imagined you with other guys and beat up the bad guys a little bit too hard. It's not really a healthy outlet but he has to make do with what he has.

"-Jordan. Earth to Hal Jordan. Paging Hal Jordan, you there?" You waved your hand in front of him as he quickly snapped out of his reverie. Damn, he must've zoned out again. "Yeah, yeah, right here. Sorry, you were saying?" He shook his head slightly and stared back at you, giving you the same heart eyes he always does. Not like you'd ever notice anyway.

"I was saying, a co-worker of mine asked me out and I'm not really sure if I should go but I kinda like the guy, know what I'm saying? I don't know, I just wanted to ask you for advice." You started rambling on again and he stared blankly into space, his surroundings blurring.

What? Someone finally beat me to it, he thought.

His mind was like an over speeding car, running at 100 miles per hour, gears turning and crashing down as he tried to process what you said.

"Hal, come on, I'm being serious." Your voice brought him back to reality again, the gravity of the situation actually sinking in. No, you can't go because I've been in love with you ever since the day we met and I can't let you get away because I'm a coward.

"What?"

Oh, no, he must've said that out loud.

[thetopichot]

•°♧ Auron Fluff Alphabet ♧°•

2/7 of the Yuuriboys. I'm working hard over here with these. These fluff alphabets are quite a creative workout for my writer's brain. However, this one was easy to write since I don't stop talking about this motherfucker. He's just too fine.

Anyway, enjoy!

CW: Suggestive

A = Abundance Of Love (Are they a loud lover that loves to express their love in many ways or are they a quiet lover that loves those quiet, intimate moments?)

This man is absolutely a quiet lover. As much as he wants to show everyone that you are his, the distance must remain between you two during office hours. However, when he does have you all to himself, you KNOW that man is gonna treat you right. He's more romantic than he says. He says that he's not a romantic type, but bro is holding you & telling how beautiful you are. Like, STOP LYING.

B = Brave (Were they the first to confess? If so, how did the confession go?)

Yes, he was & he genuinely thought that the confession would go worse. Maybe he was worried that you wouldn't like him. He does stay in his ivory tower alone, so he never got the chance to take an interest in anyone. When he saw you, though, he switched up real fast. Luckily, the confession went well & he was honest to god RELIEVED. I guess his ivory tower will be less lonely now.

C = Control (Do they take the wheel of the relationship or do they let someone else do the driving?)

I feel like he takes the wheel of the relationship. His whole story is basically about how one loses control & gets back on their feet afterwards, so expect him to take the wheel. Another thing is that he has this huge thing with taking care of problems without being asked to. If anything gets in the way of him or you, he will handle it accordingly. That is what he is supposed to do as his role in almost everything. Well, that's how he put it.

D = Dreamboat (What do they find attractive in their partner(s)?)

People would say that confidence is quite an attractive trait & they are right but listen, consider this; optimism. I feel like this is quite a controversial answer, but I feel like he likes more than just confidence. He likes a different kind of confidence. It's the fact that no matter the situation or who they are. You always find the best in things & the best in people. You believe that there is something more than meets the eye & he admires that. You see him more than just a cruel crime boss. You see him as him & he loves you for that.

E = Empathetic (If their partner(s) was in a not so good mood, how would they cheer them up?)

He's not really good at comforting people since he comes off as extremely blunt. However, that doesn't mean he isn't willing to try. He can try to comfort you with his words, but I feel like he would rather just hold you & listen to your rant. You ranting about your feelings & him holding you while you do that makes him feel like he's pretty decent at comforting. He's much more of a listener in rants.

F = Forgiving (If they had a fight with their partner(s), how would they apologize? Or would they be petty about it?)

Naturally, Auron would push people out of the way if they got in the way. However, you're not just people. You're his darling & the one thing he hates more than anything is to lose you, someone he cares about deeply. He probably was the one who initiated the fight since I know that man is stubborn & he will hold his ground, but there are more important things than pride. He is the first to apologize & he genuinely feels real fucking bad about it. He hates getting in arguments with you, but please reassure him that it's normal to get into arguments & that he doesn't have to push people away afterwards.

G = General (Random Fluff Headcanon)

Okay, I've been talking about this ALOT because it's important to me that I have this concept imprinted inside your hippocampus. I keep thinking about that one ATSV scene where Miles has this art page of Gwen. Are you seeing where I'm going with this? Auron just looks through your sketchbook to see an art page of him in there. He just looks at you & smiles. "I missed you, too." This is a bit self-indulgent jahqniajaiai

H = Home (How would they feel living with their partner(s)?)

HELL YEAH BROTHERRR 🦅🦅

He loves the idea of it. As much as he enjoys being alone, it's nice to wake up next to someone you love dearly. He's not safe from being domesticated & to be honest, he would let that shit happen. It could be your idea or his. It's up to you. In the end, just hearing your voice every morning is just soothing. LET HIM BE HAPPY GODDAMN IT 😤

I = Idealistic (What's their personal preference in a special someone?)

He doesn't take interest in timid people. He wants someone who knows exactly what they're doing rather than someone who isn't sure about their decisions. He wants someone who gets the job done. At the same time, he just wants someone a little more than that. Someone that just understands him. So throw that shit all into one quality & you get someone that is preceptive.

J = Jealousy (Do they get protective of their partner(s) when someone flirts with them?)

You bet your bottom quarter, except he doesn't really show it. He's cool, sorta calm, & collected. He's not gonna shout at them as maybe simple as a harmless flirt such as compliments like "Hey, you look very nice today." If they made you uncomfortable, on the other hand, he will be handling it. He ain't fucking around. If he gets jealous, it really depends on when we are talking about. If it's before you got together, then yes. VERY. If it is after you got together, not as much. You belong to him & he will prove the whole office if he has to.

K = Key To The Heart (What is something that will make them fall in love instantly?)

Bro fell in love the first time he saw you. He noticed that you dressed nice & how you were confident about getting the job. WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? He was HOOKED. It was love at first sight. I WISH I WAS MAKING THIS SHIT UP & I thought that I was DOWN BAD.

L = Luxurious (Do they spoil their partner(s) rotten? If they do, how do they spoil them?)

He is rich. You already know. However, I'm not gonna leave ya guys hanging with just that.

He likes to make his gifts very personalized for you. It's why he asks for your measurements, such as your fingers for getting rings or your ahem ahem NECK for uh suggestive reasons that I shall not disclose because we don't do NSFW here. So, I'm leaving that up to your imagination. Anyway, he does enjoy spoiling you mostly for him, though. There are some outfits that he wants to see you in. 😳

M = Marriage (How would they feel about getting married?)

I feel like he would like the idea of it. Of course, like anybody else, he would be a bit nervous about it. He's nervous because of how important this feels. It's something he HAS to get right in his eyes. So expect that man to plan this shit for MONTHS. This man might even rehearse before purposing to you. When everything falls in line, he does all of this fancy ass shit. He has this personal driver prepared to drive to a special location. I'm talking about a red carpet to the limo, then it takes you out of the city to a cliff that has a gazebo. You can see that fine ass man waiting for you & then you hop out of the limo. You see a trail of red roses & red candles lit.

You follow it & you meet your man all dressed up to the NINES. Like bro is dripped the FUCK out. Then he goes on to this speech on how much he adores you & how much you mean to him. Of course, the fine ass man gets on one knee & goes:

"Will you marry me?"

Bitch, YES.

N = Nobility (How honest are they to their partner(s)? Do they hide anything?)

As much as he trusts you, he does hide things. However, that doesn't mean he lies to you. He's unmoved by truth, but this truth is truly moving his ass. He did tell you that he is a criminal who killed more than one guy, but I feel like that as much he can tell you. The more you know, the more in danger you will be. He doesn't want you involved. He would rather you be unaware & safe than to be knowledgeable & in danger.

O = Overwhelmed (If they were in a not so good mood, how can their partner(s) help them out?)

Honestly. When he is stressed, he's definitely telling you not to worry about him. He always says that "I'm fine, rook. You don't need to worry about me." but in reality, this man needs comfort more than anything. During office hours, you could check in on him. Trish might find you suspicious for constantly going into his office, say, 6 times within the same 2 hours. Or a better, less suspicious way is taking care of him at home. Tell him to cancel whatever he's doing for the night & take a break with him. Of course, it's not gonna be that easy. However, persistence is key. He'll give in & just put his head in your lap. He enjoys the warmth that comes from your thighs, especially when you play with his hair. He might even fall asleep.

P = Passionate (What is something to them that means a lot to them that only their partner(s) knows about it?)

His writing. That's something he almost never shares with anyone. The only people he has shared it to were Charlie & of course, you. He finds his writings very important to him since they reveal ALOT about him, especially how he feels. Most of his writing recently has been about you, so he wants to keep his writing private. Bro is like me fr because I'm nervous when I show people my headcanons, so he's not alone.

Q = Quirky (Something silly that they do.)

On Auron's character design stream, Yuuri mentioned that Auron would own a multipen & I'm going add onto that. Auron owning a multipen reminds me of that kid in class who would write in a pretty font & make it cute when literally the topic is the most disturbing thing ever. That was Auron & still is.

R = Romantic (What is their love language?)

Call this man the Pokémon master because this bitch caught them all but if I had to pick a one, this might be controversial answer, acts of service. Just hear me out.

Auron does things for people without being asked to & never complains about it. He fully accepts the responsibility of taking care of everything & everyone, which leads to his love language being acts of service. He does go a bit too far & neglects his own needs because I believe that he doesn't see himself as a priority & there are other matters that are more important than himself right now. Please take care of that man because he needs someone to see him as a priority rather than something that can be pushed to the side for later.

S = Sublime (What is the best gift that their partner(s) can give them?)

He doesn't really ask for much besides your time & all of your love in return. He's not interested in getting gifts & he probably wouldn't want you to get him one since he's rich. Plus you do just fine as a present but you say fuck it & get him a gift anyway. The first idea was to get him a book, but that would be too obvious. You want something little more meaningful. You decided to somewhat write a half decent poem about how much you appreciate him. It's not the best writing in history, but he's enjoys that you put love & thought into it. That's enough for him.

T = Touching (How do they feel about PDA?)

Yeahhhh, probably not. He isn't really too fond of PDA, especially during office hours. He doesn't wanna look like he plays favorites, in my opinion. After hours is a different story because you two are alone & he has you all to himself, so he would rather that.

U = Undeniable (Did everyone know about their crush on their partner(s)?)

Nope. He is quite phenomenal at being discreet, plus who would anyone in their right mind would take interest in the boss? IT'S US ACTUALLY SUAJNAAUJA

V = Visionary (What do they want their future to look like with their partner(s)?)

My first initial thought was "Maybe, he might give the crime thing." but oh sweet Louie from 5 minutes ago, there is no fixing this man.

Although, I think he would want to move away from the city & go into this warm, cozy setting he's been writing about. I doubt he would give up the crime thing since that's his responsibility & a thing that was passed down from Faust's dad to him, but who knows, maybe he might pass it down to someone he trusts. Maybe he might become a writer & just enjoy his life with you. We may never know.

W = Wacky (General Fluff Headcanon. Again.)

I like to think the way he sleeps is just wrapping himself in a blanket burrito. I dunno I think it's funny. Crime boss in a blanket burrito is the most fire thing ever.

X = Xaroncharoo (Yes, that's a word. Look it up. In a domestic sense, what are they exceptional at in the home?)

Cleaning. He's making sure this house is fucking NEAT. Everytime I think about him cleaning, I think about those moms that clean the houses like hell because company is coming.

"I don't care if we have to throw everything out, rook. I want this place to look like a new mediterranean fusion restaurant by noon."

Y = Yearning (If their partner(s) went out to get something without them/went off to work, how would they feel about it?)

Z = Zonked (How do they cuddle?)

Jokes on you, you goober. You guys already work together as it is. So it's not a problem because he can just watch you from the cameras. However, if you went by yourself without him? He's probably getting you an escort to take to where you need to be. You insist on like, "Hey, I'm totally fine. I can just drive there & when I get there, I can just call you." or "My friend can pick me up, " & all of that. In the end, you have an escort to take you to Weis. He may not look like it, but he does miss you when you're gone.

Head first in his boobs. That's exactly what we're doing. He would probably hold you on top of him while you just enjoy the warm comfort of his boobs.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath ☆ミ

🩷 - Let's fucking go. 2 down & 5 more to go. This shit is definitely gonna take all of November & maybe December, too. This is probably one of the most biggest writing challenges I have worked on yet. However, it's good to get my writers brain going.

Another good news, I'm a sibling again! I have another sibling now & she is so silly. I'm happy to have another one, even though being the eldest sibling is such a pain in the ass. You just gotta do what ya gotta do sometimes.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

13 Ways Masterlist | Masterlist

I can hear the door close. That much I can process.

But when Nico's face turns the corner into my living room, I know that he's been trying to call out to me. His face is full of concern, although his dark eyebrows crease further than before and his gym bag is abandoned.

It takes less than three strides for him to reach me.

Less than ten seconds for him to have pulled me into his chest, arms wound around my body with a strength I don't think I could ever escape.

But I don't want to. That's the last thing I want to do right now.

"Schatz, what's wrong?" God, I'm worrying him, I hate this.

But the tears are still trailing down my cheeks, a lump the size of the city stuck in my throat. I can't say what he needs me to right now to calm his nerves.

So I had the paper in my hand over, slightly crumbled from my grasp but he still reads it, eyes dragging across the page in a pace I don't think I've ever seen.

"I'm confused," His words rings a moment later, voice soft as he drops the paper, hand that was holding it coming up to cradle my cheek. "What's the paper saying?"

"I-" Talking around this lump feels almost impossible, but I have to. "I've been offered a summer teaching internship working with primary students."

You can tell by the tweak of his cheeks that he wants to smile at the news, but his brows simply crease even more.

"Schatz, this is a great opportunity for you, you should be happy. Why do you look so sad?"

"The program is in London."

He's expecting me to say more, but I'm expecting him to know what I'm referencing.

"Neeks, I'd have to live in London for June to September. We've only been dating for six months, do you really want to deal with going through long distance at all? Especially this early? I mean-"

"I'll come visit."

"You- what? Nico, I can't ask you to do that," He can't just upheave his life every so often to come visit me.

Now he's smiling, a soft thing that makes me want to cry even more.

"Winnie, you're not asking me to do anything. You're going to another country for an amazing opportunity, away from your family. The least I can do as the man who lives an hour and a half flight from London is visit," He's reasoning, sounding far too reasonable.

"Nico-"

"Plus," He interrupts, hair falling in front of his gorgeous eyes as he leans in and kisses my forehead, he pulls away only slightly whispering against the skin, "I'd miss you. Away games are bad enough, but months? I can't let that happen."

I can't help the slight smile that starts up, the saltiness of tears invading from their streaks.

Neeks hands both reach for my cheeks, rough thumbs rubbing against the tears that were left.

"Would you really do that? Travel to be with me?"

He knows he's sold me now.

"You travel to support me, of course I would travel to support you. Only if you want me though."

It's not even a question as I lean in, connecting our lips for just the slightest peck. "I would love that more than anything."

[mimisempai]

I'll find you at the end of the road - Chap 7/8

Chapter summary - First date?

Has the long-awaited moment arrived?

On Ao3

Rating G -  2627 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5 - Chap 6 - Chap 7 - Last chapter

Crowley's apartment - 2024 

I WANT TO MEET YOU! 

FOR REAL THIS TIME!

Crowley turned the drawing over and saw that Aziraphale had added a few words.

Answer me after 6 pm, I'll be waiting by the mailbox.

Crowley looked at the clock, it was 4:10.

He grabbed his notepad and pencil and headed for the lake house.

Arriving a few minutes after 6 p.m., he went to the mailbox, scribbled quickly in his notebook, tore out the page, and after placing it in the box, raised the small flag.

The flag lowered almost immediately, telling him that Aziraphale was there and marking the beginning of another conversation punctuated by its movement.

Lake House - 2022 - 6:07pm

Aziraphale paced around the mailbox, avoiding looking at his watch every minute, wondering if he'd scared Crowley off with his request for a meeting.

What if Crowley didn't want to see him?

What if the correspondence was enough for him?

The flag suddenly rose, startling him.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed the small piece of paper from the box, read Crowley's reply, and then grabbed his pen.

C:How?

A:Pick a place. I'll be there. I promise. How about tomorrow?

C:That's not tomorrow for you. You'll have to wait two years.

A: I don't care. I'll wait. Meet me tomorrow at the restaurant of your choice and I'll be there. I'll be two years older, but I'll be there.

C:What will you do all the time?

A: Thinking about you. Restoring a lot of things, reading a lot of books, praying I don't lose my hair....

C:Are you sure?

A: I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I've lost so much time already. I don't want to waste any more with you.

Crowley suddenly felt almost dizzy. 

He realized that Aziraphale had had two years to prepare for this date, while Crowley had less than twenty-four hours. He took a deep breath before closing the mailbox.

C: See you tomorrow night.

A: See you in two years. Where do you want to go?

The Ritz - 2022

Aziraphale entered the restaurant and was immediately greeted by a smiling hostess.

He smiled back and said softly, "Good Evening, I'd like to make a reservation for two."

She flipped through the reservation booklet before saying in an apologetic tone, "Well, I'm sorry, I'm afraid it's extremely difficult to get a reservation this time of year. I mean, it depends on when you want to dine here."

Aziraphale replied with an amused smile, "Two years from tomorrow. September 15, 2024."

The hostess blinked several times, then closed the book before replying with a broad smile, "We should be able to accommodate you, sir."

Crowley's apartment - September 15, 2024 - Morning

Crowley prepared to leave for work. He looked at the outfit he had prepared for this evening. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been this excited for a date.

In fact, he couldn't remember ever being this excited.

Rainbow Academie - September 15, 2024 - 5 p.m.

As he was packing up after his last class of the day and looking forward to the evening ahead, he was jolted from his reverie by Eric's arrival in the classroom.

His friend exclaimed, "Thank God you're still here."

"Of course." 

Eric continued sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I know it's not your week, but could you take the detention I'm supposed to supervise? Muriel called me because they're not doing so well. You know, ever since they lost their friend, it's been a little difficult for them, and today is a bad day, and I'd like to be there for them..."

Crowley looked at his watch and sighed before replying, "Yes, I can, but one hour, no more. I've got a date." 

Eric hugged him and replied, "Thank you, thank you! I promise, it's just an hour, no more. But I want to hear all about this date tomorrow, okay?"

Crowley shook his head and chuckled, "Okay, okay, go meet Muriel! It's important to be with your loved ones when they need you."

Before he left, Eric threw over his shoulder, "I don't know who that is, but I've never seen you smile like that, Crowley, and it suits you! Bye!"

He was gone before Crowley had time to answer.

A little over an hour later, he was walking briskly to his apartment. He entered hurriedly, ran into the room and undressed, throwing his clothes everywhere.

Harry followed, curious, while Crowley muttered, "He waited two years. What's a few more minutes? Isn't it?"

He continued his preparations, but at a slower pace. He put on a dark red V-neck sweater, a shade he knew would bring out his eyes, or so the saleswoman had told him, and black pants that flattered his figure. He looked at himself in the mirror two or three times, checked his hairstyle, then shrugged and left the apartment. 

A few minutes later he left the building and drove his Bentley to the restaurant.

The Ritz - 15 September 2024 - 7pm

Crowley paused before entering. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. He was ready, a little nervous but confident. 

He opened the door with a firm hand.

He took off his coat and scanned the room with his eyes. 

There weren't many tables, but before he could find Aziraphale, the hostess approached him.

"Good evening, sir, may I help you?"

Crowley cleared his throat, "Yes, I have a reservation. Anthony. Or Fell, I'm not sure which name it was made under."

The hostess checked her book and looked up with a big smile, "Oh yes! You're the..." she paused before pulling herself together, "Follow me, please."

Crowley was led to a table for two. 

It was empty, which surprised him a bit.

The hostess turned to him and said, a little embarrassed, "I hope you'll forgive me, but I have to ask..."

"Yes?"

"This reservation is kind of... legendary. It's been here longer than some people of the staff. There's always been intense speculation about who made it and why, and whether you'd actually show up. Some team members even made bets..."

Crowley looked around and saw that waiters all over the room were giving him furtive glances. Chefs and kitchen helpers peered through the kitchen door. Crowley felt suddenly very embarrassed.

The hostess apologized immediately: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'll have the waiter take your drink order right away."

A short time later, a waiter returned and poured Crowley a glass of champagne.

"Compliments of the chef." 

Crowley nodded his thanks.

Just before leaving, the waiter gave him a small smile: "Good luck."

Crowley began to sip the champagne, hoping to calm his growing nervousness.

Some time later, his glass was empty and he was still waiting, alone at the table. The waiter approached to refill his glass, but Crowley stopped him.

He was aware that the restaurant staff was watching him, whispering among themselves. Two hours passed, other customers lingering over dessert, coffee, intimate conversation at candlelit tables.

Crowley was still alone.

After a long moment, he pushed back his chair and stood. Everyone looked at him sadly.

He walked forward, expressionless, and picked up his coat, saying nothing to anyone before leaving under the sad gaze of the hostess who watched him go. 

Crowley returned home alone. Behind the closed door of his apartment, his stoic facade began to crumble, and he could barely hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

He picked up a piece of paper and started to write, but in the end, he didn't have the heart. 

Not now.

Lake House - September 16, 2022

The weather was gray and windy this morning as Aziraphale stood outside his mailbox and unfolded Crowley's note.

 "YOU WEREN'T THERE."

The antiquarian shook his head, confused, and let some time pass before answering.

A: I'm so sorry. I just don't understand. 

Something must have happened. 

Look, I've got two years ahead of me. I'll try to make things right.

C: No, Aziraphale... You don't understand. It's too late for that. It's already happened.

I'm not upset. I mean, I was at first. 

But now I just feel stupid... for forgetting how much a person's life can change in two years. 

And for expecting yours not to. 

For expecting you to wait, to stand still, to put your life on hold for me.

A: But I can do it. I can wait for you. I know I can. I won't forget.

C: Maybe you have. Maybe, wherever you are, you're busy and happy and living so fully in the present that the dinner you planned two years ago just... slipped out of your mind. Just as you forget impossible fantasies when they're over, when you move on to real life.

A: You mean I should get on with my real life?

C: I mean... I think we both should.

After seeing his words, Aziraphale hurried to reply, his hand trembling with emotion.

Please write me, answer me.

Aziraphale placed his letter in the mailbox and raised the flag. 

The little flag stayed up.

An hour later, with the flag still up, Aziraphale opened the mailbox to find the note he'd put there.

Hours, then days, then weeks, then months passed as Aziraphale wrote and mailed letter after letter. Eventually, there was a pile of his letters in the box. They kept piling up, unanswered. Until the box was so full that Aziraphale couldn't put any more letters in it.

The Dirty Donkey - February 2025

It was late winter and everything outside was covered in snow.

Crowley sat at a table with Eric, Anathema, and Newt.

They met here at least once a week after work.

As Newt and Anathema bickered as usual, Eric leaned over to Crowley and, placing a hand on his arm, asked gently, "Are you okay?"

Crowley mustered a half-smile and answered honestly, for Eric was one of the few people who could read him, "I'm better."

"Still writing your mysterious pen pal?"

Crowley, his throat tightening, couldn't answer and shook his head.

Eric just said, without insisting, "Sorry, Crowley, if you need to talk, you know my phone number."

Crowley didn't answer.

Later, when he got home, he found a message on his answering machine.

"Hello Crowley. This is Furfur. I'm in town. I had to come in for a meeting."

Crowley started to press the button to erase the message when Furfur's voice continued, "A real meeting this time. I swear to you. Call me. If you feel like it."

The next evening, Crowley and Furfur sat in the pizzeria where they'd met a few months ago. Neither of them really felt well.

Furfur said quietly, "I didn't think you'd come."

Crowley replied wryly, "Nothing personal, but..."

Furfur interrupted, "You couldn't say no to a free meal."

"Exactly." 

They both laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

Then Crowley asked, "So how did your 'meeting' go?"

Furfur looked slightly offended by Crowley's emphasis on the word "meeting" and replied, "I told you I didn't make it up, it really happened. They offered me a job, with a bigger firm. I'm going to be a legal advisor on wealth matters," he smiled proudly before continuing, "Call them if you don't believe me."

A little later they arrived at Crowley's residence, which was on the way to Furfur's hotel. They stopped at the door.

Furfur said softly, "I took this job because I wanted to. This has nothing to do with you. With us. This is not an ambush, Crowley."

Crowley nodded and replied quietly, "Well, that's great news.  Congratulations, Furfur. I'm really happy for you."

Furfur smiled, "Thank you, and thank you for agreeing to meet me."

Crowley leaned over and gave him a quick good night kiss. Furfur looked surprised and pleased. 

Crowley looked at him, it was comforting and familiar, almost tempting when he felt so lonely, but then his eyes slipped to the tree behind Furfur. Its leaves swayed in the night air. It was the tree that Aziraphale had planted. 

Crowley looked at it for a few seconds, remembering the day it had appeared, the joy he had felt then, and in that moment he knew.

He closed his eyes and shook his head before saying sheepishly, "No, I'm sorry, Furfur, but I can't. I thought for a moment I could... but I can't."

Furfur nodded and said, "I know. Don't be sorry. I didn't expect anything. I didn't lie to you."

A little ashamed, Crowley apologized again, and after a tearful goodbye, he watched Furfur leave.

As he made his way back to his apartment, he muttered to himself, "I may not be able to meet Aziraphale, but I can't lie to myself either."

Lake house - 2023

It was so cold that the surface of the lake was frozen. 

The mailbox was covered with snow. Aziraphale, who had been walking outside, reflexively looked into the it. Even after all this time. 

It was empty, of course. 

He closed it slowly, feeling sad as always, so sad.

Distracted, he first didn't notice Harry moving quickly away, towards the forest until he finally looked back and saw it.

"Harry! Come back!"

Harry took off running. 

Aziraphale ran after him, but soon, in the density of the forest, he no longer saw the rabbit. Aziraphale ran straight ahead, still calling. He tripped over a stump and fell into the snow, got up and called again, looking around distraught. 

Harry was really gone.

Aziraphale was about to run again when he suddenly stopped. 

He'd just realized something.

Harry was about to find his new owner.

Aziraphale knew what to do.

A few days later, he was talking to Muriel in the living room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Aziraphale replied wistfully, "Yes, I have to move on, I can't stay here. I... I can only think of him."

Muriel nodded, understanding, and added simply, "If you need help, you can count on me."

A few weeks later, Aziraphale tidied up the house with method and determination. He taped boxes together and tossed his belongings into them. He bagged the trash, swept and mopped.

As he tidied up, he found the pile of Crowley's letters. He looked at them for a moment, then wrapped them up and shoved them in the bottom of a cardboard box before carrying the box up to the attic and sealing it.

Real Estate Agency X - London - 2023

Aziraphale checked the address on the business card in his hand before entering and heading for the reception desk.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Furfur, sorry, Ferdinand Stamper. I don't have an appointment, but tell him it's Aziraphale and it's urgent."

A few minutes later he saw Furfur arrive in the entrance hall and he beckoned him to follow him into an adjoining meeting room.  He barely greeted him and didn't seem very happy to see him. 

Aziraphale didn't wait and asked him directly, "Are you still interested in renting a house on the lake?" 

He didn't wait for an answer and threw him a bunch of keys. 

Furfur looked confused as Aziraphale continued, "This is what Crowley wants."

Furfur asked in an irritated tone, "How can you know that? How do you know what he wants? Besides, we're not even..." 

Aziraphale shook his head, "I don't want to know, but believe me, this is what he wants."

He waited no longer and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, when Furfur opened his car, something in the distance caught his eye. A rabbit was walking slowly down the road, looking a little lost until it came right up to him. 

Furfur recognized it.

It was Harry

_________

You want to curse me? But what if I told you that in five minutes... you'll have the rest of the story?

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[quiescentdestiny]

Decidedly started wayward son now (finally). Now that I've finished both the AOUV books (that brain rot is gonna be there a WHILE though ngl. I'm gonna be thinking about those books forever too.) But I also (finally) have a physical copy of Wayward Son. And the third book, so I don't have to stop.

anyways. contemplating just putting my thoughts live-streamed once more, but I might have already read 20 chapters (RR why. why are there so many chapters in these books. it's too many.) (I live-streamed the first 20 chapters to a friend on discord lmao.

Spoilers under the cut I guess?

It's good to see that Agatha is one step away from trading one magickal cult for another less magickal one lmao poor girl 🤣

Me three pages later: well at least she knows 🤣 God, I love her.

fun fact! everyone on goodreads hates Agatha. I think they're wrong and am even more convinced that a bunch of people who like to review things on goodreads, cannot, in fact, read.

Oh boy Penny. Well that is certainly a decision. BF hangs up on you, show up in America to surprise him. what could go wrong.

oof. yeah that. that could go wrong.

No no, Baz is right I'd also be mad if I had to spend an entire day driving through Nebraska. Road trips suck. 😌

I agree with his entire fucking list. Illinois also sucks. And Kansas.

Poor man. At least he got cheese cake factory out of it I suppose. Does cheesecake factory really not exist in Europe?

Simon having all this idealistic wonder about fucking Iowa is hilarious 😂 man Baz is so real. the last road trip I went on was 16 hours to the coast of Texas. you know what's even better than Iowa being so similar to Illinois that they may as well not have separated them? driving ten hours in one day and still being in fucking Texas.

Glshdvdisbksa reading a British perspective of a Renn Faire is absolutely fucking thrilling. I love this book.

lmaooooo fighting vampires at the renn faire 10/10. as an American, who has in fact been to multiple Renaissance Faires I love this book.

dfghdjkfsgh man this poor kid is not dealing with being in a civilian after war very well at all, but man the moment something interesting happens he's like ✨😊 meanwhile I AM CRYING ABOUT IT. how is the trauma going there Simon?

"I was being poetic before, about America being endless. But Nebraska really is endless." my lord this man really just sums up road-trips.

[ferniforest]

hHIHIAOIII Idk if anyone noticed me missing haha but I am back :D

I went to a "summer camp" where God did so many amazing things I don't even know where to begin but

over 40 teens got healed, a girl with a soccer injury could do flips again, a guys rotator cuff moving without any pain, lots of people's asthma clearing indefinitely

So many found complete freedom from anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, addictions and self harm. This one beautiful girl saw that cuts on her arms had dissapeared, she was so excited "and this one's gone! And this one's gone!!"

I experienced the peace of the Holy Spirit like never before, I've felt his presence and peace previously but Thursday night (18th) it was beyond beautiful, I didn't even know it was POSSIBLE to feel such complete peace

All shame and guilt and feeling like I need to be perfect is gone gone! Jesus took it all away and I am totally free!

In summary God is literally so cool and kind I hope anyone who sees this opens their heart to feel his complete unending love and you find freedom through Jesus from what's been burdening you <3

More testimonies under the cut!

♡ One of the nights i was having trouble sleeping and started feeling super lonely and hopeless, which was really weird because less than an hour before I had been totally joyful and at home with my roommates? I remembered one of the speakers mentioning about how God can speak to us through feelings, so i started to pray for whoever was the one feeling like this.

I got up to write something down and felt prompted to just keep writing. I ended up with a page filled front to back that I eventually felt I was meant to read and give to my roommate who said it was just what she needed, had been experiencing and God had been showing her that week. I had no idea what all she'd been going through but God did :)

♡ Another cool one was during worship one night i glanced at the back of the girl's shirt infront of me, it had 2 words of like a company or something and the second one started with a G. At first I thought it said garden but when her hair moved I realized it was something else. But the word Garden was on my mind. (Never said anything aloud.) Less than 3 minutes later, one of the staff prayed for me and described in detail a GARDEN of flowers and growth and walking with God :]

♡ Throughout the rest of the week he continued to bring garden up and during one of my quiet times I felt like listening to The Secret Garden by AURORA. In general I only listen to worship music during quiet times but I listened to it and oh my gosh the absolute LOVE the Father poured out through this songs lyrics almost brought me to tears. I hadn't listened to the song in a while and had no clue the lyrics could so closely resemble relationship with God.

♡ This one's kind of personal but I still feel like I should share it. Coming into this camp where you live with strangers for a week I was pretty nervous I wasn't going to make good connections or friendships. But my counselor prayed for me and ohh man did God answer those prayers :) I laughed so hard with my roommates, we had inside jokes, other girls opened up to me and I got to just listen. One morning during campus group prayer I started crying. Not for what all us students were praying for, but because I had someone my age either side of me believing and going after Jesus just as much as me.

If you ever need a Jesus freak to talk to I'm always here! I know how hard it is to find others to truly be on fire for God with <3

[murphychips]

a treacherous descent into werewolf romance fiction

okay so. this story begins with me being on facebook, scrolling through videos, and getting these adverts at the end of EVERY video clip from these sites:

and i mean EVERY single one. and out of deranged curiosity i ended up clicking them and checking out their previews only to find maybe some of the more garbage i've ever had the displeasure of reading. each advert was different and each story varied, but all of them had dogshit quality.

eventually, i wondered who was making this stuff; MULTIPLE apps were being advertised to me under a bunch of different names, and all of them were centred around werewolves or mafia or billionaires. sometimes all three!

so i downloaded a couple of apps to see if i could identify an owner, but those all varied too! most don't even have websites; the app is the only thing they have. almost none of them have author names, or any way to identify the writer, and there's no way to submit to most of them. eventually, i chased up a few of these apps on reviews to find most appear to be stealing content from across the internet:

some of these are stolen from amazon, others are stolen from similar apps are cross-posted, others--as one comment says--appear to be scalping from wattpad (and likely AO3 and fanfic.net, although i'm currently trying to find examples).

HOWEVER

one app that crossed my phone was Letterlux, which does feature a submit page and appears to actually promote original work! the genres remain the same--werewolves, billionaires, mafia, etc--and so i was like alright. this appears to be a publishing outlet of SOME kind. what's the catch?

the catch is the abysmal fucking offerings:

the 'exclusive' contract here is if you do the whole 'submit a thing and they extend an offer', whereas non-exclusive is you just posting the thing. but look at the numbers! look how low they are! $450 if your story is above 200,000 words????????????????? and you have to post EVERY DAY for the update bonus; if you miss more than 4 days, you're out of the running. HOLY EXPLOITATION BATMAN. never mind that for the non-exclusive, you get a measly $250 for 200,000 words and NO update bonus. with the signing bonus of a whole $50, that's $300 for 200,000+ words: a whopping 0.0015 per word.

another app that appears to promote original work is Galatea, owned by inkitt; it appears legit in that it's been advertised by a bunch of different places, i.e. Writer's Digest, and has a fairly slick site, but reviews from users say it's a scam--a less predatory scam than usual, but still a scam.

TL;DR, if you write heterosexual steamy werewolf romance, your shit is likely making money for some company in whoknowsistan, who use microtransactions to make you pay for individual books. and i haven't even TALKED about how some of these apps have some of the most crazy IP protection i have ever seen, such as banning you for an hour if you screencap ANYTHING, and hiding recorded videos:

but despite all this, and this horrible rabbithole of novel apps i've fallen down, nothing compares to me having to read all this fiction and realising that we are ignorant to the quantities of sheer bad werewolf writing out there, so much so that i'm honestly tempted to post my own straight-bait just to see how far i can get. things that i've noticed:

all the female protagonists start off as abused or hated and are saved by some Alpha/Alpha King/Alpha Demon/idk man

sometimes the werewolf aspect is just an inner wolf who like. yells at you sometimes?

there's gamma rank werewolves?

there's DELTA rank werewolves?????????????

i honestly think i'm becoming addicted to finding out just how unhinged some of these stories get, but that is beside the point: in the end, for the love of god, don't be a dumbass and use these shady apps, and do NOT submit to places who won't even give you an entire penny per word. also, check your shit; it might have been scalped for someone else's profit. okay. ciao.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (February 19-25, 2023)

Those of you who've been around here for a while may recall the Kickstarter campaign for a documentary called Kaiju Gaiden, which aimed to interview directors of underseen independent kaiju films. I stress the campaign because despite clearing its $25,000 funding goal, the documentary was never completed. Director David Hall apparently took the money and ran, and while producer Mark Jaramillo vowed to finish the film, his last update was in 2018. Jaramillo also stopped posting on his personal Facebook page the same year. Myself and pretty much everyone else who gave the project a backwards glance figured he had simply given up and withdrawn from fandom to avoid further embarrassment. Or perhaps something had happened in his personal life that was more pressing than chronicling the adventures of a wolfman and some funny lizards. Kaiju Gaiden entered the (alarmingly voluminous) annals of kaiju vaporware, alongside the likes of Godzilla Zero Hour and Colossal Kaiju Combat.

Well, something did happen in his personal life. Fucking hell, did it happen. As Jules L. Carrozza revealed last Saturday, Jaramillo was in prison until recently for distributing child pornography online. I've been in touch with someone who's looked into this horrid story beyond what's available through Google (i.e. PACER), and they've confirmed that this is no case of mistaken identity. They also shared excerpts from the sentencing report. I will spare you the vile details. Suffice to say the man is a monster of the kind I wish only existed in the movies. He had started posted on Facebook again in October like nothing had happened, and I'm extremely grateful Carrozza came forward before he could stage some triumphant return at G-Fest or another con.

I aim to have Wikizilla's Kaiju Gaiden page updated by early next week; I feel bad for taking so long, but I want our citations to be unquestionable and can't search PACER myself until Monday. I also regret not including all this in the last week in review, since it did fall under its scope, if only just. Truth be told, I didn't know how the hell to present it alongside more routine kaiju news, Godziban especially.

I also wanted to give good old @kaijusaurus time to complete his Edward Snowden act. Back at G-Fest XXIII in 2016, Jaramillo transferred to him a bunch of indie tokusatsu obscurities and asked him to keep them to himself. Well, suffice to say that promise is off, and he's deposited the lot on archive.org and (when possible) YouTube. Give them a watch and let their lo-fi simplicity remind you why you fell in love with this stuff.

I'm glad they can be out in the world. Kaiju Gaiden ultimately made many of them less visible than they could have been until now. If you couldn't make it to G-Fest, you were shit out of luck. For those of us who could, those memories are thoroughly tainted. Mark Jaramillo didn't make any of them, and they don't deserve to be associated with him. His most enduring contribution to the kaiju genre will be playing a CIA agent in the excruciating God Raiga vs. King Ohga: War of the Monsters... alongside David Hall. Good fucking riddance.

[scummy-writes]

I am feeling nostalgic lately because I am trying to just sorta look into reasons that I write and why I struggle with some things concerning it, and in doing so I've been doing the Terrifying task of reviewing things that gave me a lot of anxiety, such as like...m*sme days.

I wrote a Lot for that fandom, I believe. A lot to me, to where if I compared it to how much I've written this past year, it feels like it wouldn't have even been a third of the writing for m*sme. I mean, I just finally broke over posting more fanfics for vamp than m*sme recently on ao3 recently, whereas m*sme had a ton of hcs and etc that I posted too, since I used to do more requests back then.

I was a part of two zines. One, i was asked to be a part of as a guest, and I have the physical version of the zine still on my bookshelf. My writin, printed out!!! With artists and writers that I enjoyed and admired, I am inbetween shared pages with them.

Another, I spearheaded with the help of friends and managed to raise almost $800 in charity for, even the company reached out and sent a nice lil RFA booklet for it.

And I've been having bouts where I think of those years and compare to Myself. Like "man, past me wrote so much, whats Wrong with me now?", "i was able to do so much more back then...", and now I sit here and analyze it even moreso.

I was quite literally the most depressed I had ever been during that timeframe. I had some awful struggles with my family, I was learning about a lot of personal struggles as well, fandom drama had me in a choke hold it felt like, I was having to live with my grandma due to the family issues, I was alone with barely any time to see irl friends since i worked nightshifts (and my irl friends were an hour away or so), and I lived in a small town that was hateful in many ways. Etc etc...

And now its...what...smaller fandom with less drama (thank god), less pressures from toxic friend groups, family issues are not 100% but are WAY better.... lived with friends the past couple of years and currently living with a friend I met through ikes*ries fandom, and I'm looking back at those fandom days with m*sme and I'm like. Maybe I am just still recovering from all of that. Maybe this is just me slowly building up the ability to write and love it all again.

[artemisiavulgaris1114]

So I've been sitting on this 30 page Gortash/Lilith pre/during/post-game fanfic outline (!!) for months. the first chapter isn't done yet :') I normally don't post unfinished, buuuut I'm happy with the first part and felt like it needed to be released into the world--give it a bit of external life to hopefully feed back into it for when I do have the bandwidth for more writing <3

As Dark Things Are Meant To Be Loved chapter: 0.1/? (not up on ao3 yet in case anyone is looking for it there) rating: M (canon-typical blood and gore) durgetash (gortash x durge tav) although this first bit has no durge in it, just one tired asshole who's too old for this shit

Gortash gazed sightlessly upon the statue of the gods. The tabernacle was shadowed and dormant in the small hours of the night, but for the soft flicker of the altar candles, and his mind was similarly far away. The unmistakable odour of the lower city managed to seep into the air here, winding its way through the din of incense and herbal offerings. Despite his recent more lavish trappings, Gortash still found himself spending far too much time in a place he missed and hated in equal measure.

And now, that time was being wasted. The steel toe of his jackboot tapped against the marble floor, a steady rhythm counting down the seconds. He had a habit of noting even the smallest grains of sand that slipped through his fingers, and for someone who slept as little as he did, he was still too irritated by the situation to try and make productive use of it.

There came a softer tapping that was outpaced by his own. Then, the scent of something even far less favourable suddenly overwhelmed him–raw, rancid meat, with a musty undercurrent of desiccated fabric and blood. Gortash could almost feel the nauseating cocktail crawling over his clothes and skin, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned around to find a small, stooped figure, hooded in a tattered antique cloak with its hands clasped behind its back.

Gortash did not bother to tilt more than his eyes downward as he spoke, nor stop his lip from curling in disgust. “May I ask, did Lady Savienna fail to deliver the entirety of the sum I paid for this visit? Or were you really off squandering my precious evening, laying with long-butchered swine as your keen fetor suggests?”

The figure calmly folded back its hood to reveal what appeared to be an older, balding gnome with a thick silvered beard and many scars. Its eyes were beady, mischievous, and discriminating, which Gortash instantly clocked as owing to fey ancestry. Whatever this thing really was must have been almost too perverse to conceal.

“Oh, she did, my Lord. Yes, quite the substantial—and, dare I say, grandiose—donation,” the gnome twaddled, with a bow that was unreasonably low. “An adequate token of your respect.”

“Clearly not entirely adequate, seeing as it failed to guarantee something as simple as your punctuality,” Gortash’s jaw clicked. “Respect, indeed.”

“It is enough to guarantee you a chance to walk out of this meeting alive, my Lord, and nothing more,” the creature’s voice lilted with false deference, an almost mocking tone that bore no obvious threat.  “You see, when encountered, Banites are normally afforded the dignity and lesser mercy of a swift and relatively painless death—of which, I am certain you’re aware.” It added with a hint of amusement, “The ones that don’t go so quietly make for sacrifices that are most fruitful.”

Gortash’s gauntleted fist clenched reflexively as if it desired to crush something. He was already out of patience, but he refused to let himself be goaded. “Then consider them part of my ‘donation’, and stop wasting my time.”

The gnome cowered ever so slightly, but still, somehow Gortash had the distinct impression that it was nowhere near afraid of death.

“My proposal is thus,” Gortash began, his voice sharp and compelling even at normal speaking volume, “I will offer a doubling of your meeting fee in order to secure the particular assistance of one of your assassins in carrying out a targeted heist three tendays from now.”

“Oh, my, a down payment?”

“Depending on how we fare, there may be far more vested interest in it for you than the scope of this contract.”

“---and the potential for subsequent contracts. You make it sound like a most lucrative opportunity,” the gnome chuckled affably as it squinted up at him.

“I do not deal in any business that is not.”

“Yet, in this instance, you seek our help. It must be something terribly difficult to pull off, if someone such as you does not think himself solely capable.”

“I am more than capable,” Gortash flashed. “Trust that I would not have arranged this meeting had I not been given an unequivocal order to do so.”

“Interesting. It seems you are as ambivalent about this as we are,” the gnome grinned widely, showcasing a disarray of sharp, spoiled teeth. “In that case, I’ll humour you. Tell me, what is it that you’re planning to steal?”

“For now, I plan only to return something that was stolen from you.” The impish creature’s patronizing facade faltered, and it looked genuinely confused. “And what benefit is that of yours?”

“Nothing such that you’re entitled to hear,” Gortash replied dismissively, “but I will tell you why I require your services.”

He continued, keeping with an air of complete confidence and immaculate poise as he began to pace, all part of the hustle. 

“This job has particular challenges, and requires a particular approach sufficient to mitigate them, hence the long turnaround. What I seek from you is someone who is able to enact a series of seemingly unrelated murders, enough to alarm and distract the general populace, and more importantly, the Grand Duke, for the days leading up to the heist.” He stopped pacing and turned, pinning the gnome with a pointed look. “You know the one amongst your ranks of whom I speak.”

“Hmm, hmm. Yes, perhaps that does sound familiar,” the creature nodded along slowly, wringing its hands seemingly by rote. “Allegedly, one of ours made rather a name for themselves, nigh 15 years past. As they say, all those murders were the work of one very clever, exceptionally vicious Bhaalspawn, though they never did quite figure out who was responsible...” 

Gortash nodded. “A spotless record.”

The Bhaalist took a long, deep breath through its nostrils. 

“Keeps us respectable,” it said as it straightened its posture, cleared its throat and continued, “And, fortunately for you, I do happen to know the very one of which you speak. I also simply must profess that I have the unique privilege, and indeed, the requisite finesse, of serving them at a personal level...” and on it went, describing in exorbitant detail its distinguished affiliation and stewardship of its vile master, a decidedly sadistic and depraved individual, the leader of Bhaal’s contemporary cult–which really just made this whole idea all the less appealing from Gortash’s point of view. 

He had no idea what to expect. His dealings with Bhaalists had never been easy or pleasant, if such a thing was even possible. He preferred prudence and wit to mindless, unnecessary carnage from his underlings. Though he reasoned that their leader must have some modicum of each to keep them as organized and prolific as they were.

He had begun to pace again, this time in circles around the effusive creature as it rattled on. “Yes, yes—they sound simply delightful. Might they be persuaded to discuss this face to face?”

It pondered concernedly for a moment. “You see, this particular assassin that you’re referring to… they are one of our most accomplished, most venerated–”

“Your leader, yes. Which is precisely why I have sought them out.”

“You are well informed,” it admitted with an edge of spite. “But that does not gain you anything. They have a great deal of responsibilities, my Lord. Running the temple worship daily is no small feat, what with our cult now being so prosperous, so vital as it once was–”

“You will have your daily sacrifices,” Gortash interrupted. 

“Surely we have other suitable operatives of equivalent skill–”

“You do not. I will only work with another possessing capability and merits comparable to my own. As far as I’m aware, Bhaal only has one Chosen.” Gortash held his hands behind his back. “All I ask of them yet is a chance to meet and discuss my proposal properly and in detail.”

The gnome thought for another long moment before relenting with a grudging look. 

“Our Lord, pragmatic as ever, is receptive to any proposed Banite alliance, as long as you make it worth his while. Though…” and as it casually inspected the ragged fingernails on its hand, there was an especially sinister bent to its ever-present smile, “a Banite sacrifice is in most cases worth more than anything you could offer us otherwise,” it said before it looked Gortash in the eye. “Especially one of your status.”

“I look forward to making their acquaintance,” Gortash quipped back with a beleaguered smirk. “Now, shoo. And do pass along my invitation, will you? I shall await a response.” He swept past the decrepit thing without formality, glad to finally be rid of its air, and out into the azure cast of near-dawn.

[copperbadge]

Apologies if you’ve answered this before, but since you’re such a prolific writer, I am curious: how do you find/make time to write?

Sometimes, between work; cleaning/shopping/cooking/self-care to continue functioning; and time for other hobbies, I feel like it doesn’t get the attention I want to give to it. Thank you!

Oh, I've probably answered it before but if so I don't remember when or what I said :D I think it's a combination of things, some of which are within my control, some of which are not.

For a start, it really depends on how you write. I write in chunks, and I tend to write pretty continuously when I'm at it, there's not a lot of "blankly staring at the page" that some writers have to deal with. I am either Writing or Doing Other Things. I also have a fairly fast typing speed -- last time I tested I was in the 120 wpm range, and given I spent two years doing audio transcription I'm probably faster now. So I can get the words on the page basically as fast as I think, unless I'm on a phone, but even then I'm pretty fast. A significant chunk of Infinite Jes was written on my phone, mainly because while writing it I sometimes didn't have convenient access to a computer.

I'm fortunate in that I have a job that doesn't really take up eight hours of my day, so if I want to stop what I'm doing and spend an hour writing, I generally can. I specifically have tried to take jobs that allow this and avoid jobs that don't, but I grant that's a privilege of being a college-educated white dude. I've worked retail, but I've also often been able to avoid it in favor of jobs where I'm not constantly public-facing and can huddle behind a computer doing god knows what (it's a joy to have a job where nobody really understand what it is you do).

You say I'm pretty prolific, and this year that has been true -- I wrote around 300K words. However, in 2021 I did very little writing at all, and in 2020 I think the only real work I did was on Six Harvests, which is less than 100K words. I didn't post a single fanfic in 2021, which shocked me when I realized it. I'd have to do some data vis to confirm this, but I suspect there was a curve to my output across my 20s and 30s -- I know that I wrote less, even if it was perhaps better quality, as my career began to take off. Work, depending on the kind, does take brain power, or physical energy, or both, from what we'd rather be doing. It can also stimulate it, but realistically that's not super common. So I wouldn't beat yourself up about giving time to work and self-care; those are necessary, and I take more time from writing to give to those as I get older.

I think also as you get older you figure out your rhythms. I am capable of much more physical activity in the morning, and I'm capable of writing pretty much anytime, so I tend to do physical things -- working out, cooking, cleaning -- earlier in the day, then "go to" work, then write in the evenings whether or not I got any writing in during the day. I cook in bulk, so I'm rarely "cooking" more than one meal a day, just reheating stuff I cooked earlier.

Working remotely has absolutely been what allowed me to write so much this year -- and not even the time gained back from commuting, because my commute was short, not quite an hour round trip. But I'm not trapped "at" work -- I can do chores during the day, fuck off and write, even take a nap if I desire, in a way that I couldn't when I was in slightly uncomfortable business-casual and stuck in a cubicle from eight to four-thirty. I could do pretty much what I wanted in the cubicle in terms of reading tumblr, writing, researching, et cetera, but when you're confined to a physical space where you're not super comfortable and sharing it with thirty other people, it's not as conductive to writing.

And like. Also I'm a hermit who lives alone and very rarely goes out.

I don't have a partner or children, I don't have family nearby, I have very few responsibilities and don't belong to social clubs or nonprofit boards or religious groups the way many of my colleagues and friends do. I have a circle of brickspace friends who are fairly tightly knit at this point, but we don't do a lot of like, weekly-brunch or friday-night-drinks or anything like that. I am finding it much, much, so much easier to go to parties and social events now that I'm properly medicated, because I don't feel like I'll be punished by my own brain afterward, but we're also still in the grip of a pandemic, and while we are socializing, it's still pretty constricted. Over Thanksgiving I had two events in two days and loved going to both but by Saturday I was exhausted and happy to stay home.

When the quarantine began, a lot of people found themselves "trapped" at home and very bored, and while I empathized I was also quite confused because my outside-of-work life didn't materially change. How often were these people going out? What were they doing? In a regular year I was home at least six nights a week if not all seven. I go to bed at eight o'clock most nights, by choice. I love my friends and I'm generally happy to hang with them but I don't have a driving need to go out and be with friends and certainly not with strangers more than about twice a month.

So yeah, I wish I could say it's a matter of Making Time To Write or some secret time management trick but the truth is, my prolific output (such as it is; it varies wildly) is a result of a really good job for Fucking Off To Write, not many other obligations, and an obsessive personality. :D There are ways you can adjust your life to give you time for creativity in whatever form that comes, but that's got to be personal to you -- learning your rhythms, learning how to manage your other responsibilities, maybe letting go of some things to give yourself more time for what's important. But it's got to be you looking at your life and making adjustments, there's no single solution to the problem.