#good to note. this will be relevant later.

[wlwinry]

wait wait please tell me more about the thistlecaster tangled au

oh boy oh boy im about to explode. prepare for a deeply silly heartfelt au that hovers in the back of my mind so very often

gorgug is (approximately) flynn, fabian is (approximately) rapunzel

by this i mean that they fill those two roles not that the personalities perfectly align

but to backtrack a little to that age-old worldbuilding: fabian, youngest (adoptive, but who cares) son of cathilda the black falls grievously ill as an infant. devastated and desperate, cathilda and fabian's older siblings (princess maeve, prince kieran, and princess rory, though theyre not super relevant to the au i just care about them a lot) hunt for magical cures high and low and eventually find an ancient healing blossom blessed by Galicaea, goddess of the moon, and Cassandra, goddess of the night and of mystery. some say that the flower came from the tears Galicaea shed when her sister first died, but that's neither here nor there...

the royal guard sneaks and fights through the wards around the flower and brews it into a healing draught, one that restores the infant prince's strength--but as he heals and grows bit by bit, the royal family notices a shocking change. fabian's hair, previously a pale silver, has turned moon-white. writing it off as a simple change, the likes of which frequently occur with infants, queen cathilda announces that her baby is healed and the kingdom rejoices

except word reaches bill and hallariel seacaster, fabian's biological parents. you see, they didn't want to deal with a child on their adventures, so they dropped him off on the shores of their former friend's kingdom.

a magical child, however...that's not a burden. that's an opportunity.

hallariel tricks her way into her palace to try and siphon some of fabian's magic, but finds it tied to the boy's blood and hair. so, of course, she steals him back. don't worry, she left a note thanking cathilda for taking such good (temporary) care of him, but she and bill have quite the client list looking for the magical youth, healing, and immortality a child with the healing power of a god can bring

cathilda hunts them down to no avail. the hangman (the ship) stops sailing, hiding in a cove shrouded by the best wards money can buy. fabian grows up in a cabin of that ship, never stepping foot off of it and never seeing another person beyond the clients his doting (ha) mama and papa bring in

cue the lantern celebration, a last hope from the royal ceíli family that their last little one will find his way home

cut to nineteen years later. thief duo fig and gorgug need one last score to be able to leave the kingdom behind with more than enough money to pursue their dreams once they end up Anywhere But There. the score in question? the crown of the lost prince

things don't go to plan, though--they get caught on the way out of the vault and end up splitting up, unable to reach their meeting spot now that (junior) captain of the guard riz gukgak is on their tails. fig heads for the forest sans-crown, gorgug heads for the shore with the crown, and when he sees what looks like a shipwreck in the middle of a secluded cove he decides to trust his gut and sneak aboard.

the problem is, of course, that the second he's on board, the glamour fades and the ship is clearly whole and hale. not that he gets much of a chance to process this, though. he gets brained over the head by a large, heavy blunt object, shoved into a closet, and then is blackmailed by the most beautiful man he's ever seen with the longest hair in the goddamn world to take him to see the floating lights in return for the crown. always a man of honor, gorgug agrees, and the ethereally beautiful stranger introduces himself as fabian

and he is. shockingly easy to fall in love with. mesmerized by the outside world. determined to experience as much as he can in the short few days he has without clients. deeply melancholy. maybe a little too fearless

he shudders whenever gorgug holds his hand, like he's not used to the touch. to the comfort

gorgug thinks there isn't much he wouldn't give to see him happy, escape plan aside.

(cue the whole adventure. all of it. except fabian doesnt lose his magic like rapunzel does bc i always thought that was silly. he does THINK that that's where his power stems from, because that's what bill and hallariel always thought and told him)

(also, this is a fabian who wasn't trained, bc bill decided he made a better asset when he was unable to fight the people they sold his magic to. you know, if he ever decided to escape. a lot harder to do that when you can't fight back)

(this au was originally conceptualized with transfem!fabian but really it can be done either way)

(the scene where eugene is totally speechless when he first sees rapunzel? that, but thistlecaster)

(the hangman [dog] is pascal)

[starwarjotta]

there’s a special place in hell for people who take the time and go through the effort of leaving negative comments on fanfics, like-- what is wrong with you, what is LEGITIMATELY wrong with you? I’m so angry and so devastated on behalf of everyone who has been harrassed like this and who is going through something like this right now. There’s no excuse for shitty behavior - if you intentionally leave a hurtful comment on something someone created and put out there for other people’s enjoyement, for free, after spending probably HOURS if not WEEKS or MONTHS or longer on it, you’re an incredibly shitty, disgusting, miserable waste of space of a person be better

[bleh1bleh2]

I was thinking about voltron so much today that during class I took more notes about voltron than actual notes </3

[wearethewitches]

hmm yep. got the lae'zel cut scene. finally.

[perereiii]

brain is working overtime at the moment<3

ok. so. new au dropped LMAO

note. please please please correct me if I'm wrong!! I'm always trying to learn this stuff and the more accurate I am, the better.

Mkay so. It's the story of the Wittebros in the BI. Working on 2 characters rn and the metaphors! Inside the metaphors!! Augh my English teacher would be proud right now (note that a lot of the metaphors help Philip gain ground on his idea of 'witches are evil and must be eliminated')

ok. Juniper and Lucy Fern. Aside from the obvious Lucifer reference (Lucy Fern, Lucy Fer, Lucifer), the two witches have rather interesting palisman. Juniper has a tree snake, with green, black, and gold colouration. How is this metaphorical? Well, time for a huge simplification! So. In the garden of Eden, Satan disguised himself as a serpent to trick Adam and Eve into eating the forbidden fruit on the tree of knowledge. His trick worked, and now we're stuck with morals and knowledge etc!! Having a tree snake associated with witches would have set off Philips puritan red flags immediately.

Then there's Lucy. She has a crow! What's a associated with crows? That's right, death and famine. And what's associated with death and famine? Witchcraft! Philip doesn't want his newfound town getting destroyed by witches, so naturally he wants to destroy them first.

[iamthedukeofurl]

I feel like the Hbomberguy plagiarism video has a lot of really good lessons about building an argument. Like, the thesis of the video isn't just "Plagiarism is rife on Youtube", although that point was certainly well made, it was specifically about James Somerton, who isn't mentioned until about halfway through the video. Before then, Hbomb goes through several creators who are already widely discredited as plagiarists, and in each section he introduces concepts that are later incorporated into the final takedown of Somerton, but each section also stands on it's own. Like, he starts with Filip, the game reviewer, which he uses to introduce the format of how he will discuss and expose plagiarists. Specifically, the graphic of displaying the source material while the plagiarist's voice plays, and marking up said source material every time the plagiarist changes some wording slightly. This is the method that Hbomb uses across the entire video. With Illuminaughtii, Hbomb introduces a few major concepts 1) The idea of Insufficient citation. Illuminaughtii "Cites" her sources by putting a plaintext pastebin link in her video descriptions with no indication of how each source was used. Technically, her source is CITED, but not in any relevant or useful way. She has a big list of stuff she read, and a random youtube link in there happens to be the source that she stole 90% of the video from. 2) He introduces the profit motive behind this approach. Putting out a lot of content very quickly is how one builds an audience, and therefore an income, out of making stuff on youtube. Plagiarism of this sort is a way to produce content very quickly and build a following. The Internet Historian section introduces two new concepts:

1) The behavior of an exposed plagiarist, taking down and reuploading videos with minor changes, awkwardly trying to insert credit without admitting guilt. 2) That the plagiarists are stealing not just research, but STYLE. Previous sections go over how the plagiarists are reusing the same words, but this section oozes over how much of the final product's quality was the result of how well the source material was written. TIH didn't just crib the notes from the Mentalfloss article, he created a video heavily dependent on the original author's skill as a writer. When TIH tried his own hand at presenting the same set of facts, it came out much worse. So that when the time comes for the Somerton takedown, Hbomb has already laid the groundwork to bring these concepts back. Somerton takes down and reuploads videos when he's caught, he declares this his video is "based on" work by somebody else without providing proper citation. He's not just stealing research done by somebody else, he's taking their insights and talent as a writer and regurgitating it as his own, and he's doing so to churn out a vast wall of content that he can financially benefit from, and he doesn't need to tell you why this is important, because he's already done so. He already convinced you that Illuminaughtii hiding a line in a pastebin didn't excuse her plagiarism, so you don't need to be told why Somerton saying his video is "Based On" somebody else's book doesn't excuse it.

[floorpancakes]

had some thoughts about my semi-oc ideas for the in universe parody of xxxholic (and a few other series) that one of the heart render protagonists will be into and i went back and forth on the hair situation w the doumeki expy (the douwata equivalent r yuri for funsies) and despite being a huge fan of mirroring imagery and giving every character from fictional media or OCs that one bob style i was like nah. yasuho would still have super short hair i can't imagine a super feminine doumeki expy even if the character would be a girl i also considered a himecut ojou type but i just wasn't feeling ANY resemblance at all and the whole point is i can riff and meme on some of that so why would i divert so far and yeah my tired brain was just like no 💛

[landosjpg]

lovestruck | ln

the one where you end up in your friend’s bed after a night out.

lando norris x verstappen!reader

word count: ~2.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, reader drives for f1a (not really relevant to the story but it’s mentioned), smut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!, fluff

note: based on this request. feel free to send more requests if you have them, i’ll try to go through all of them this week’!

"just one minute!" you yelled when you heard your brother knocking on you hotel room’s door for the tenth time in less than a minute.

"you said that one minute ago!" he called back from outside your room.

rolling your eyes, you finished putting your earrings on with a huff and walked to the door only to be met with the irritating smile of your brother.

"you’re extremely annoying," you mumbled, earning a laugh from him.

"and we’re gonna be extremely late because of you," max said as you two started walking to the elevator side by side.

and he was right. the party had already started when you two got in the cab max had called, and the traffic would make it impossible to arrive at a somewhat-decent time.

it was the miami grand prix, and after an exhausting weekend what you wanted as soon as you got back to your hotel was to take a long bubble bath. you weren’t really in the mood for a party, but max had insisted in taking you out to celebrate.

in the end, you had just won your first race as an F1 Academy driver.

just as your brother, you had been into racing since you were little. only your paths had been slightly different, and sadly you were a few categories behind him, but he always made sure to encourage you that you would make it one day.

it wasn’t easy, being max’s sister. the constant comparison between you two and the pressure that came from being a world’s champion’s sister making you question your worth at times.

"lando’s already there," max interrupted the silence that had settled in the cab, nudging your ribs with that infuriating smirk of his again.

"i don’t like lando," you complained, rolling your eyes once more.

you had known lando for years, and while you two were just friends, max was absolutely convinced that you were head over heels for him.

it didn’t matter how many times you denied it, he would tease you until your cheeks were burning red. before he could make any remarks on how your voice got a little more high-pitched when talking to lando or how you always were nicer when he was around, you covered his mouth with your hand, hoping that would be enough to keep him quiet for the rest of the car ride. you loved your brother, but it was a fact that he could get quite irritating.

small talk was made for the forty minutes that you were in the backseat of the car, and then you found yourself startled by the flashing lights and the loud music of the club where you were meeting some of your friends.

your girl friends welcomed you with a drink and you didn’t even had time to say hello to lando, who your brother had quickly found, before they were dragging you to the dance floor.

you were never a big fan of parties, alcohol making you more moody than cheering you up. so only a couple of hours later, you made up an excuse so you could go sit by yourself in one of the lounge’s couches for a while without having your friends tell you how boring you were at parties.

you had closed your eyes for a few seconds when you felt the weight of someone sitting down next to you in the plush couch, and the familiar "hey" that followed made you flutter your eyes open, an unconscious smile on your lips.

"not having a good time?" lando asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows and an amused expression. he knew how much you hated those settings.

"not really," a sigh left your lips and you shrugged. "max insisted, i wanted to stay in tonight. and my feet are killing me."

"try not to be the life of the party for once, will you?" he mocked you, trapping his lower lip between his teeth to prevent himself from smiling at his own joke. his words earned him a playful punch on his arm and you pouted.

you weren’t really sure how it happened, but in between playful teasing and giggles, he had shifted a little closer to you and you were resting your head on his shoulder, eyes closed as you daydreamed about getting under your bed covers and doing nothing but sleep for the next few days.

"y/n," lando softly called, making you open your eyes and look at him, a little confused. you had been silent for the past ten minutes, just enjoying each other’s company. "i called you a cab, you should get back to your hotel."

"i can’t," you quickly answered.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to get back already, you just wanted to spend a little more time with him. lando’s eyebrows furrowed in conclusion, pushing you to explain why.

"max has the card to my room." that was a lie, but lando knew that finding max in the crowded club was always nearly impossible.

"it’s already waiting outside," he said, not questioning your silly excuse. maybe you were a better liar than you thought.

for what felt like forever, you stares into his eyes, his gaze locked in yours as he tried to find a solution other than cancelling the ride.

"you can spend the night with me," he suggested, and quickly added, as if trying to rub it off: "you were just falling asleep on my shoulder, you need rest."

a smile creeped up to your lips, not only at his suggestion but also at the fact that he cared about you, and so you couldn’t do anything but nod.

he guided you outside, one of his hands in the small of your back as you moved through the mass of people finding the exit, and once you spotted your ride, he opened the door for you and helped you get in.

it felt oddly domestic, despite this being the first time you two were together for more than five minutes without your brother being around.

anticipation grew inside you as the soft jazz music playing from the radio filled the car’s silence and in no time you were already in the elevator to lando’s room, his hotel much closer than yours was.

you watched as he opened the door, noticing how his hands were slightly shaky before he stepped to the side and let you enter the suite.

"i’ll take the couch," he announced when closing the door after himself as he watched you plop down on the mattress of the bed, exhausted.

you closed your eyes for a few seconds, thinking about how you could get him to sleep next to you as you heard him moving around, likely getting the couch ready for the night.

when his movements stopped, you looked to where he was, finding him just looking down at his phone from where he was sitting.

with a deep breath, you sat up and took your heels off, finally feeling your feet when you stoop up to take your dress off. you noticed one of lando’s shirts waiting for you at the feet of the bed, the corners of your lips going up at the sweet gesture.

"lando," you softly called his name, making him look up at you. "can you..?" you added, turning around and pointing at the zipper of your dress.

he hummed and walked closer to you, one of his hands moving your hair to the side gently, his fingertips brushing against your hot skin. you felt his breath on your neck as he found the zipper and slowly pulled it down, an unsteady sigh leaving his lips.

none of you moved for a few seconds, his hands finding home at each side of your hips, and when you turned to look at him your faces were only inches apart.

"you look gorgeous tonight," he whispered, his gaze falling to your lips as your arms circled his neck.

maybe it was the small amount of alcohol in your system that made you act, or maybe it was all the years you had dreamed about that moment. but somewhere, you found the courage to pull him closer and attach your lips to his in a soft kiss that he was quick to reciprocate.

his tongue traced your lower lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss that you happily granted by slightly parting your lips. slowly, he guided you to the edge of the bed again, helping you lie down and hovering over you as your fingers entangled with his curls.

the kiss turned sloppy as you started getting rid of each other’s clothes and your breaths got heavier, sweet nothings exchanged with every item that got discarded on the floor.

"are you sure you want this?" he interrupted, pulling back to look at you.

a giggle left your lips and you nodded before answering: "a little bit late to ask, don’t you think?"

"i have to make sure," he chuckled and you could notice a hint of pink in his cheeks.

when you giggled, he gave you a small peck on the lips before reaching for his wallet on the nightstand as you watched him pulling out a condom from one of the small pockets.

you watched as he bit into the tinfoil and slipped it on, a soft look in your eyes and the hint of a smile in your lips. he pulled your legs back to your chest and positioned himself at your entrance, easily sliding in and filling you completely.

"fuck," he groaned, feeling your pussy enveloping him just right, as if you were made for him.

he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as he started rolling his hips slowly, your lips parting in a silent moan.

the way his cock stroke your walls as he fucked into you made you whine, your arms circling around his waist urging him impossibly closer, your chests flushed against each other.

"be quiet for me, baby," he whispered, lips finding yours again and stealing the soft sounds that left your throat with each of his thrusts.

he was slow and gentle and took his time in learning what made your nails dig into his skin, making it hard for you to control the volume of your sounds, the room filling with loud sighs and shaky breaths.

"oh my god," you panted against his lips, your walls starting to tighten around his cock, earning a grunt from him. "feels s’good".

lando had dreamed about that moment for years, but he could have never imagined that the squeeze of your walls as you came around him would feel that heavenly. the feeling of you clamping down on him was enough to trigger his own high, his movements turning slower and sloppier as he rode out both your highs.

you felt his weight on you for a few seconds before he rolled to the side, panting and pressing a kiss to your cheek. you turned your head to look at him, his eyes flushed close and a soft smile adorning his lips.

and fuck, you wished you could stop time and stay there forever. he looked pretty, angelic even.

after a few seconds admiring his features, you slowly got up and walked to the bathroom to clean yourself, not without grabbing one of his shirts first.

when you got out after a few minutes, lando had already cleaned the rest of the mess and was laying in one side of the bed, waiting for you to return.

as much as you hated to admit it, it felt kind of awkward. you had been friends for so long, now that the line was blurred you didn’t know how to properly act.

"i should get going," you announced  your return, looking for where he had put your dress. "max is probably back in his room, so i could…"

"stay," he interrupted you, his voice low and raspy. "it’s late and not safe for you to go alone."

you knew he was right. but you weren’t sure of what sleeping next to him would do for your feelings for him. surely, nothing good in terms of you most likely falling even harder for your friend. as if sleeping with him wasn’t enough.

"come on, y/n. max would kill me if anything happened to you," he added, patting the mattress next to him.

a little unsure, you gave in and climbed into bed next to him, keeping your distance. he smiled at you, pulling the covers up to your shoulders before shifting closer to your body, arm around your waist to keep you near.

soft kisses and caresses lulled you to sleep, and you woke up when the sun light entered the room through the curtains only a few hours later.

lando’s arm was still around your body, your legs tangled with his under the covers. you couldn’t keep your hand from brushing back the curls that fell over his forehead, a gentle movement that seemed to wake him up.

"good morning," you murmured when you heard his groan and he hid his face in the pillow, making you chuckle.

"what time is it?" his voice was muffled, but you turned around to look for your phone that you had placed in the nightstand when you got to his hotel the previous night.

“shit,” you whispered when you were met with fifteen missed calls and around fifty texts from your brother. lando looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

you didn’t explain further, too stressed about the situation to not get up and start getting ready to leave. you couldn’t believe you had forgotten to tell max that you were leaving early.

“what are you doing?” lando asked as you tried to messily put your dress back on as quickly as you could.

“max is probably wondering where have i been all night,” you simply explained, fighting to pull the zipper up.

“he knows,” his words made you turn around, a frown in your face as you waited for him to explain. “i texted him on our way back, you know, so he wouldn’t worry. i told him you were tired and he had your room card so…”

“oh, fuck,” you grumbled as realization hit you. max knew you had your card with him, so his texts were probably just him teasing you about your stupid lie.

“what?” he questioned, confused as to why would it be bad that max knew she was safe and with him.

“i…” you started explaining, too embarrassed about it to know how to do so without having lando laugh at you for your antics. you sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor. “he doesn’t have my card. it’s in my purse, so now he’s gonna give me so much shit for lying to spend a little more time with you.”

as you confessed, you lied back in bed, covering your face with the palms of your hands to hide the blush that had creeped up to your cheeks. of course, lando’s laugh only flustered you even more.

“if you wanted to get into my bed that bad, you could’ve just asked,” you felt lando’s voice closer to you, his body now lying next to yours. “i wouldn’t had said no, you know?”

the feelings that hid behind both of your confessions lingered in the air for what felt like forever. you felt your heart racing, and you wondered if lando could hear it too.

“say something,” he pleaded in a whisper, unsure of how you were feeling. you, on the other hand, were frozen in place thinking about how whatever happened next would potentially change everything.

“for how long?” you finally asked, turning your head to look at him. as you shifted a little on the bed, lando’s hands quickly caught your hips and pulled you closer to him.

you didn’t have to ask the whole question, he knew what you meant.

“ever since we met,” he mumbled.

“me too,” you answered, and before you could say anything else, lando’s lips were on yours again.

a sigh left your lips and you kissed him back with relish, regretting all the times that you had preferred to gaslight yourself into obliviousness instead of listening to your brother when he insisted that lando did like you.

you broke the kiss with a giggle, the tip of your nose brushing against his.

“max is gonna have a field day when he finds out,” you said, making lando chuckle too.

“i don’t wanna be there when you tell him,” he joked, bumping his nose into yours and trapping your mouth with his once more, not wanting to waste a single second now that you were finally his.

[crimeronan]

i've seen a couple people in the notes of this very good post about fictional polyamory by @thebibliosphere say things along the lines of "oh, i've been doing it wrong :(" or "how do i know if i did this right??" or "i should probably give up and start over, i wrote this badly :(" and. no!!!!

(i AM seeing far MORE people say "oh, this clarified and helped me so much, i think i know how to fix issues i've been having with my own story" which. YES!!!!)

listen. if you're a monogamous person who's writing a polyamorous relationship, and you've been focusing mainly on The Triad and All Three Together All The Time as the endgame, that's literally fine. that's a perfectly acceptable and strong starting point for your plotting, imo. you do not need to give up on a story that you've started like this.

but the things discussed in the post Can and Should improve your execution!

you can keep the same plot beats and overall relationship arc 100%. polyamorous relationships are infinite in their formations, every one is unique. "basically a monogamous romance but with three people" Does exist, as a relationship type. you're not hashtag Misrepresenting (TM) poly people with it

BUT i do think it will help to read up on some poly people talking about how their relationships Differ from monogamous ones.

so i have outlined some basic important concepts about polyamory.

MORE IMPORTANTLY though, i've broken down some questions that you can answer throughout the writing process to strengthen your individual dyad relationships, your individual characterization, & your characters' individual feelings/experiences. this is a writing resource have fun

future kitkat butting in to say i spent over two hours writing this and it definitely needs a readmore. it is also NOT comprehensive. but everything should be pretty simple to follow! feel free to reblog if you find it helpful yourself or just want to reward me for how gotdan long this took KSLDKFJKDL.

i've grabbed quick links for a couple of the important concepts, some have SEO pitches in them but the info largely seems to be good. (if i missed anything Egregiously Gross on these sites i should be able to update the links with better ones later, since they're under the readmore.)

sidenote: this is NOT meant to be overwhelming, despite the length. if you can't read all of this, that's Okay. you do not need to give up on your writing.

here we go:

compersion!

compersion is a BIG thing in a lot of polyamorous relationships. it's joy derived from seeing two (or more) of your partners happy together, or joy derived from seeing your partner happy with someone else.

compersion is really important as a concept because it highlights that every individual relationship within a polycule is different -- and that that's a GOOD thing. it's sort of the inverse of jealousy.

by the "inverse of jealousy," i mean that instead of feeling left out and upset and possessive, you feel happy/joyous/content.

i can use personal experience as an example: it's a Relief for me when my partners receive joy/support/sex/romance/etc that i can't (or prefer not to) give them. and i love seeing my partners make each other laugh and be silly together.

it's 100% okay for a poly triad not to be together 100% of the time, it doesn't mean that the third member is being left out or not treated equally when two people do things alone together.

(i have individual dates with my partners all the time! PLUS larger 3-and-4-person date nights.)

if the third member DOES feel jealous or left out, then the polycule can have a conversation to figure out what needs/wants aren't being met, and solve that. this happens semi-regularly in my polycule, as it will happen in any relationship (including monogamous ones)! it's just part of being an adult, sometimes you have to talk about feelings.

metamours!

a metamour is someone who is dating your partner, but ISN'T dating you. this may not be relevant for people writing closed three-person romantic sexual triads, but it's a super helpful term to know.

the linked article also lists different types of metamour relationships with some fun phrasing i hadn't heard before. the tl;dr is: sometimes you'll be domestic cohabitation friends, sometimes you'll be buddies with your own friendship, sometimes you might not interact much outside of parties, every relationship is different.

there's no one-size-fits-all requirement for metamour relationships. sometimes polyamorous people will end up dating their metamour after a while (has happened to me), sometimes polyamorous people will break up with one partner for normal life reasons, but remain friendly metamours.

the goal of polyamory is NOT for EVERYONE to fall in love. it is 100% okay if this happens in your story, it happens in real life too! but it is also 100% okay for characters to be metamours without ever becoming "more than friends."

(sidenote: try to kill any internalized "more than" that you have when it comes to friendship. friends are just as important and special and vital as partners.)

of course there are a million ways for messiness to occur with metamours within a complex polycule, exactly like with close-knit platonic friend groups. however this post is not about that! there's enough "here's how polyamory can go wrong" stuff out there already, so i'm focusing on the positives here :)

open versus closed polyamorous relationships!

i'm struggling to find an online article that reflects my experience without directly contradicting at least SOME stuff. so i'll give a quick rundown

google has a bunch of conflicting definitions of open relationships and whether open relationships are different from polyamory. the general consensus seems to be that an open relationship prioritizes one partnership (often a marriage), but that each partner can have extraneous flings or long-term commitments (most often sexual in nature).

this is not typically how i use the term wrt polyamory. the poly concept is pretty simple. a closed polyamorous relationship is one with boundaries like a monogamous one. there are multiple partners in the polycule, but they are not interested in having anybody new join said polycule.

an open polyamorous relationship tends to be more flexible -- it just means that IF someone in the polycule develops mutual feelings for a new person, it's fine for them to become part of said polycule if they want to! the relationship/person is open to newcomers.

some groups will need to negotiate this all together, others will just go "haha, you kids have fun." just depends on the individuals!

with open AND closed polyamorous relationships, the most important thing is making sure that there's respectful communication and that everyone is on the same page. but there's no one-size-fits-all way to do that.

i wish i could give you guys a prescriptive "You Must Do It This Way" guide, but that's.... basically the opposite of what polyamory is about, HAHA.

feelings for multiple people!

i was gonna tack this on to the previous section but decided it warranted its own lil bit.

a defining feature (....i'm told?) of monogamous relationships is that a monogamous person only has feelings for One individual at a time. they only want a relationship with one individual at a time. or, if they DO have feelings for multiple people simultaneously, they're still only comfortable dating one person at a time & being exclusive with that one person.

this is perfectly fine!

the poly experience is generally different from this. but once again..... polyamorous people all have different individual perspectives on this.

for me, i have never been able to draw hard boxes around romantic vs sexual vs platonic relationships, & i love many people at once. my personal polycule lacks many strict definitions beyond "these are my chosen people, i want to forge a life with them indefinitely, whatever shape that life takes"

some poly people feel explicit romantic or sexual attraction to multiple people at once, some poly people feel almost no romantic or sexual attraction at all. i'd say that MOST poly people feel different things for different partners, which is not a bad thing!

some poly people are even monogamous-leaning -- they have just chosen one romantic partner who is themselves part of a larger polycule. (so this monogamous-leaning person has at least one metamour!)

or alternatively, they might have one romantic partner AND a qpr, or other ways of defining relationships. (this is a factor in my own polycule!)

i made this its own point because if you're writing a straightforward triad, this is unlikely to come up in the story itself -- but it's worth thinking about how your characters develop/handle feelings outside of their partnerships.

like, is this sort of a soulmateship, 'these are the only ones for me' type deal? in which they won't fall in love with anyone else, and can be fairly certain of that?

that's pretty close to typical monogamous standards but you Can make it work. just be thoughtful with it

alternatively, can you see any of these characters falling in love Again after the happily-ever-after? and how would the triad approach it, if so? what would they all need to talk about beforehand, and what feelings would everybody have about the situation?

it's worth considering these questions even if the hypothetical will never feature in your actual canon, because knowing the answers to these questions will help you understand all of the individuals & their relationship(s) MUCH better.

i've been typing this for nearly two hours and there's a lot more i COULD say because... there's just a lot to say. i'll close out with some quick questions that you can ask yourself when developing the dyad dynamics within your triad

first, take a page and create a separate section for each individual dyad. then answer these questions for every pair:

how does each pair act when alone?

how do they act differently alone compared to when they're with their third partner?

are there any elements of this dyad (romantic, sexual, financial, domestic, etc) that these two people DON'T have with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

are there any boundaries or hard limits within this dyad that aren't shared with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

partner 3 goes out of town alone for a few weeks. what are the remaining two doing in their absence?

(doesn't have to be anything special, it's just to get a sense of how the two interact on a day-by-day basis without the third there)

what is something that each partner in the dyad admires about the other -- that they DON'T necessarily see in the third partner?

what problem do These Two Specifically need to solve in the story before their relationship will work?

how is that problem DIFFERENT from the problems being solved within the other two dyads?

doing this for ALL THREE dyads is VITAL imo. that way, you develop complex and nuanced and different relationships that all have unique dynamics.

those questions should be enough to get you started, i hope

then After you've charted the differences in relationships, you can start to jot down similarities in the overarching triad. what does one person admire in Both of their partners? what are activities that all three like to do together? what are boundaries or discussions that all three share?

but the main goal is to figure out how to Differentiate each relationship!

a polycule is only as strong as the individual relationships within it. if two people are struggling with their own relationship, adding a third person won't fix that.

(UNLESS the third person is the catalyst for those two to, like, Actually Communicate And Work Their Shit Out. i just mean that the old adage of "maybe if we just add a third-" works about as well to fix a miserable non-communicative marriage as, uh, "maybe if we have a baby-")

AND FINALLY.

if you're not sure whether your poly romance reads organically to poly people, you can hire a sensitivity reader with poly experience. if you can't afford that, you can read up on polyamorous resources like a glossary of terms & articles actually written by poly people. (and stories written by poly people!)

you can also just.... ask poly people questions, if they're open to it. i like talking about polyamory and my own relationships so you're welcome to send asks if u want, i just can't guarantee i'll answer bc my energy levels fluctuate a lot and i don't always have time.

polyamorous people are in an uphill battle for positive representation right now & so the LAST thing i want to see is authors giving up on their stories bc they're worried about getting things Wrong. well-meaning and positive stories that treat this kind of love as normal, healthy, & aspirational are So So So Needed. even if you guys end up with some funky-feeling details.

seriously, if you're monogamous then you probably don't have a full idea of Just How Nasty a lot of people can get about polyamory. i wish it DIDN'T mean so much for you guys to want to write nice stories about us, but it does mean a lot. and it means a lot that you want to do it WELL.

in conclusion. this is not a prescriptive guide, it's just a way to raise questions. and also, you all are doing FINE.

[eternalxvenus]

༻ room for one more? ༺

summary: after many failed dates, you begin to give up on the dating scene until Sarah and John B give you an interesting proposal.

cw: smut 18+, sarah x f!reader x john b, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, baby), brief drug use, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 3.6k

notes: thank you to the lovely @juniebugg for giving me this amazing idea, i loved writing it and hope i did it justice 🙏🏽

☆ obx masterlist ☆

The sun was setting but the day was still hot, a soft wind tickling your skin. You were lying on your towel, opting to enjoy the last few rays of the sun with Kie. JJ, Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah were all in the water swimming and playing around. You all had a rough week for different reasons and so JJ called for a mandatory beach day.

As you dozed in and out, listening to the sound of the waves, Kie nudged your side softly. "So... how is the whole dating thing coming along?"

Even though she was genuinely curious, you couldn't help the sting of embarrassment as you tried not to groan. "Not so great. I have a date with Kelce tomorrow, but I'm not over the moon excited." You turned to look at Kie through your sunglasses with a tight smile. "If this one doesn't work out, I'm giving up."

Her nose scrunched up in mild disapproval. "Kelce? I didn't think you'd go for someone in that circle.

Truth be told, you usually wouldn't. Even though the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing isn't as relevant anymore, some Kooks were still stuck in their old ways. "Me either. He came up to me and started a conversation at the boneyard a couple nights ago and asked for my number. Now we suddenly have a date at the country club," you sighed with a shrug.

"Even if it doesn't go well, don't stress it. You don't have to push a relationship anytime soon– you're still young."

You sat up and turned onto your back, deciding to take a nap while you could. "Easy for you to say. You have JJ, Cleo has Pope, and Sarah has John B. I'm the odd one out." Kie gave you a solemn smile but didn't say anything else, which you were thankful for.

A few hours later, everyone was out of the water, and the wind picked up leaving goosebumps on their wet skin. While everyone was drying off, Kie woke you up and said it was time to go.

You asked John B to take you home because you had plans tomorrow. As everyone laughed and joked around with one another, you couldn't bring yourself to be in a cheerful mood knowing they each had their special person within the group.

Once you were home, you immediately took a warm shower to try and let the warm water relax you. It did somewhat, but it didn't stop your brain from overthinking. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning in bed, one melatonin later, you finally were able to fall asleep and stay asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The room was unbearably hot when you woke up. You flung the covers off you as you wiped the light sheen of sweat from your forehead. You'd left the window open, and your AC wasn't on. With an irritated groan, you got up and closed the window. Wanting to cool down your room as quick as possible, you turned the AC on as low as it could go.

You checked your phone and saw a few missed messages.

Kie: have fun on your date, lmk how it goes!

Sarah: if you aren't busy later come swing by the chateau :)

Kelce: morning, i'll be there at 1 to pick you up for lunch. can't wait to see you.

You sent in your replies and got ready for your date with Kelce. Light makeup and a cute but simple white dress. As you grabbed it from your closet, you saw the red dress you shoved in the back with the price tag still attached. You'd bought it impulsively while shopping with the girls one day but had never worn it. 

It was a mid-thigh deep cherry red with a slit and showed off your cleavage perfectly—according to Sarah, at least. It had never seen the outside of your closet, no matter how many times your friends tried to make you wear it. You never felt like you could truly pull it off.

There were five minutes to spare when you'd finally finished up. As you were spraying your perfume a text from Kelce came in letting you know he was outside. You grabbed your purse and met him outside, where he sat in his car.

A small sigh left your lips. He didn't bother to meet you at the door. Perhaps he wasn't the gentleman type. You got into his expensive car, the leather seat cool from the AC blasting on high.

"Ready to go?" He asked, giving you a once over. You nodded softly and gave him a small smile. Neither of you spoke much the entire ride there. You sat on your phone checking social media, playing games, anything to pass the time.

Kelce parked in front of the country club and beckoned you to follow him. He led you to the outdoor patio that connected to a restaurant. After a waiter sat you both and you ordered drinks, Kelce started the conversation.

"So, is this your first time at the country club?."

"Uh... yeah, it is."

"What do you think of it?" he said, taking a sip of the drink that had been placed in front of him.

You shrugged, "It's nice, I can see why people come here." There was a beat of silence and you knew this date wasn't going to be the best.

"Honestly, I'm surprised we're here right now. I never thought I'd be taking a pogue on a date at the country club. But you're really hot, so I've got no complaints."

His statement made you internally roll your eyes. "Right..."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were back home, feet aching slightly from your shoes, and the heat was making you feel groggy and gross. The date was not good. All Kelce could talk about was himself, the kook life, and how he wanted to bring you to a party at Topper's next week. You declined. He also made slick remarks about you being a pogue which pissed you off.

You: hey sarah, i'll be over in a bit.

She sent a thumbs to your message. You got in your car and made your way to the chateau. When you pulled up, you saw John B out by the deck. 

Inside you could see Sarah walking around so you went in to greet her.

"Hey, I'm here," you said knocking on the door as you walked inside. 

"Hey! Glad you could make it." She sat the plates she was holding into the cabinet and motioned for you to sit. She came over and sat next to you on the couch as you both got comfortable. "Kie mentioned you had a date… how did it go?"

You picked at your nails and shook your head. "Not too great."

Sarah hummed sympathetically. "Well, Kelce isn’t as interesting as he makes himself out to be." You both laughed as you nodded in agreement.

You laid back on the couch letting your head fall back. "When is everyone else coming?" assuming Sarah or John B had something planned for everyone tonight.

"Actually, I only invited you. John B and I wanted to talk to you about something," she sighed. You felt nervousness bloom in your stomach as she stood up. "I'm gonna go get John B, just sit tight."

While waiting for them to come back your mind was wandering, not sure what could be so important that they had to talk to you together and in person. The door swung open and Sarah walked back in with John B right behind her. No one spoke as they pulled up two chairs and sat in front of you on the couch. John B gave a soft smile which helped your nerves just a little.

"Okay so," Sarah spoke up. "We weren't really sure how to go about this so just bear with me here. You're one of our best friends and we've spent a lot of time together over the years..."

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, almost drowning out Sarah's voice. Please don't tell me they don't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself.

"Anyways, me and John B have been talking. We both find you attractive obviously. And we wanted to invite you to bed with us! Like a threesome." Sarah had a smile on her face and your eyes widened.

"W-what? You want to have a threesome? With me?" They both nodded.

"Basically, me and Sarah had been talking and we asked each other who we'd want to hook up with if we were single. To our surprise we both said you, so we figured why not just ask."

Your face felt burning hot with shyness and embarrassment. You'd only had sex one time and it wasn't all that great. You and your boyfriend at the time had wanted to lose your virginities to each other but neither of you knew what you were doing.

Sarah's hand grabbed yours and pulled you out of your swarming thoughts. "You don't have to answer right now." She was caressing the back of your hand with her thumb reassuringly. "Go home and just think about it. We'll be waiting patiently for your answer— no pressure at all, okay?"

The air in the room felt a little less heavy. You knew they wouldn't force you or be mad if you decided not to. "Okay," you said with a small smile.

They both hugged you, walked you to your car, and waved you off home. On the ride back, all you could think about was whether you should accept or not. You weren't experienced and didn't want to disappoint them.

You were laying in bed but once again couldn't sleep. You decided to take a few hits of the weed pen JJ had given you a while back, it's lasted you a while since you only use it when you can't sleep or need to relax.

Once you felt the high encompassing your mind you laid down and closed your eyes. Your mind drifted to the thought of being in bed with Sarah and John B. With that, you fell asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

It had been three days since your threesome invitation. You had thought about it a lot. Even though you hadn't spoken to Sarah and John B directly, you all still talked in the group chat with everyone else like normal.

It was still early in the morning when you texted Sarah.

You: hey are you and John B up yet?

20 minutes later, you got a reply.

Sarah: good morning! i am but he's still sleeping lol. what's up?

You: i've given it some thought and i wanna do this but are you sure? i'm not the most experienced when it comes to all that

Sarah: i'm so happy! thank you for trusting us and don't worry we'll both be there to guide you. are you free tonight?

You said yes and she told you to come over at 7. That gave you 11 hours to completely freak out before heading over there.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The warm air from outside blew into your car as you sat outside the chateau, trying to give yourself a mini pep talk. They suggested that you come in loungewear, so you wore shorts and a cropped tank top with no bra, all things considered.

You went up and knocked on the door and waited. John B came and greeted you with a hug. He didn't hide the fact that he was taking in your body. 

"Hey, come in. Sarah's finishing up in the shower so she should be out in a few minutes." With a brief nod, you followed him inside.

It was so weird, normally the chateau felt like a second home. You'd help yourself to whatever and never felt out of place. This time it was the complete opposite. You didn't want to touch anything or sit without someone telling you to. You felt like a guest, who was visiting for the first time.

John B sensed your nervousness and gave you a smirk. "Don't get all shy now sweetheart, we haven't even started. Speaking of which, is there anything you wanna do? We could have some takeout, watch a movie, anything really."

You gave him a puzzled look. "I thought we were going to... you know."

"I love your enthusiasm," he chuckled. "We are, but Sarah and I both thought it'd be best to ease into it rather than just jump right in. We want this to be as comfortable as possible for you."

It was the little things like this that reminded you that these are your best friends. They knew you like the back of their hand and wanted this to be enjoyable for you and them. "A movie sounds nice," you said with a smile.

A little while later you were all sat on the couch watching some random movie that you'd picked. It wasn't all that good but you were still tuned in. Your eyes glanced away from the TV when you felt Sarah's hand start grazing the inside of your thigh. She was still facing forward almost as if nothing was happening. You looked back at the TV and spread your legs a little wider.

It was summer, entirely too hot for any blankets— even with the cool air of the AC blowing— so if John B looked, he'd see what was happening. The light, teasing touches went on for a few more minutes and you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. You were ready to break the silence and ask for more until you felt John B's lips on your neck. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

"This okay?" he muttered against your neck, and you nodded. "Use your words, pretty girl."

You managed to whimper out a soft 'Yes' which encouraged them both to keep going. Sarah's hand moved higher, lightly rubbing you through your shorts. A moan slipped from your pouty lips at the contact and you tried grinding your hips against her hand for more stimulation. "Let's go to the bed," Sarah whispered.

The short walk was filled with little kisses and light touches, none of you wanted to stop even for a second. Sarah instructed you to take off your clothes and lay on the bed. She and John B did the same as she sat behind you and John B positioned himself in between your thighs.

"Fuck... your pussy is dripping." You attempt to close your legs but he has a strong grip on your thighs. "Don't try and hide yourself, I wanna see everything."

Sarah brought her hands up to massage your tits, your nipples feeling painfully hard. "John B is gonna use his mouth to make you feel good, okay?"

"Okay– oh!" He wasted no time licking a long stripe to collect your arousal on his tongue.

"How does she taste baby?" Sarah asked. You could hear the lust and neediness in her voice. "She's so fucking sweet, like candy." John B couldn't help but moan as he continued to move his tongue in and out of your hole. You felt one of Sarah's hands leave your breast to touch herself behind you. Her soft moans make you even more turned on.

John B brought his mouth to your clit and sucked hard. That was all it took to have you falling over the edge in pleasure. One hand squeezed Sarah's arm while the other tugged on John B's brown tresses. Your moans filled the room as you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

Sarah replaced your spot in front of John B and once again he wasted no time lapping at her essence. Once she reached her peak John B didn't stop he was pushing her into overstimulation and instructed you to hold her legs open.

"John B! Please– ohmygod– it's too much!" she tried to push his head away but he didn't budge until he pulled another orgasm from her. You watched in amazement as she started to squirt making a mess of the bed and his face. He wore your combined juices proudly, not bothering to wipe any of it off. 

You leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Fuck Sarah you look so hot like this, squirting all over the place, being so messy." She whimpered at your words as John B finally gave her some reprieve.

She pulled you down so your lips collided with hers in a heated bruising kiss. Her tongue swiped across your lip and made its way into your mouth massaging your tongue.

In the corner of your eye, you saw John B stroking his hard cock slowly. Sarah noticed as well and gave you a smirk. "Let's show him how thankful you are for making you cum."

John B positioned himself up against the headboard and Sarah brought you face to face with his length. "Grab the base and take him into your mouth. He likes it really messy," She whispered while keeping her gaze on him. You followed her instructions and did your best to please him.

Once you'd taken as much as you could into your mouth, a light gag leaving your throat, he groaned. "Fuuuuck, that's it, take it all in that tight little throat." You went at your own pace for a bit, then Sarah took over gagging you on his cock at a brutal pace. Your eyes watered and there was spit and drool all over your chin and his pelvis. John B's thighs tensed and without warning his load filled your throat forcing you to swallow it all. 

You coughed a bit and Sarah rubbed your back soothingly while you and John B caught his breath. "You did so good baby." She went to kiss your neck and caress your body.

The praise did things to you. "Thank you." John B pulled you against him and kissed you deeply. "Do you wanna keep going, sweetheart?" John B muttered against your lips. The room felt so hot in combination with all the body heat and the summer air. You were definitely spent, but you wanted to go again. "I want you inside, please."

He nodded and moved you down to straddle him. Sarah moved to sit on his face, facing you. She moaned, feeling his tongue on her clit again. You sink down on his length feeling completely and utterly full. Sarah pulled you in for a kiss as you rocked your hips in a slow rhythm.

The stimulation on your clit from grinding felt delicious, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. One look at Sarah and you could tell she was close too. "I wanna cum together," you whispered against her lips. "Okay, together." she nodded. John B pushed his hips up to get impossibly deeper and gave a harsh such on Sarah's clit, pushing you both over the edge.

You both collapsed onto the bed, your body completely worn out. Sarah and John B left kisses and comforting touches anywhere they could, telling you how well you did and that they were so proud. Their voices faded away as sleep overtook you.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A month after your night with Sarah and John B things couldn't have been better. You'd spent many pleasure-filled nights at the chateau. They were always showing you something new and making you feel so good. There were even times when it would be just one of them if the other was busy or not around.

You weren't expecting the text from Sarah asking you to come over considering you were just there two days ago. She asked you the wear that red dress which made you even more confused.

Walking into the chateau, not bothering to knock, you saw the table with lots of food and a candle adorning the middle of the table. "What's all this?" you questioned. John B and Sarah both turned from their spot in the kitchen and greeted you. 

"We wanted to do something special to thank you, you look beautiful by the way," he said leading you to the empty chair. They sat down at the table and you could tell something was coming up. Even Sarah looked a bit nervous. Maybe they were going to end things.

"So, we don't want to keep you here with this uncertainty. We did all these because this past month has been amazing. You've always been a great friend and I think– we think– doing this has made us incredibly closer." You nod in agreement. "We want you to be our girlfriend. We'll be an official polyamorous couple. I don't want to have to give you up to someone else and neither does Sarah. We want you to be ours and we'll be yours completely."

You felt like the wind had been sucked out of you. They wanted you to be their girlfriend. Before you could say anything Sarah chimed in. "Sorry if this seems sudden and we understand if you want to keep things how they are. You don't have to have an answer–"

"Of course I would," you cut her off with a wide smile. You could see the worry leave both of their faces. "God I love you." Sarah laughed leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, John B following suit.

The rest of the night was spent having an amazing dinner and even better sex with your new partners. Never in a million years did you think this would be your life but you loved it and you loved them. They were your best friends and lovers wrapped in one.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[writingwithfolklore]

Backstory is Revealed When You Need It, Not Before

                Recently I shared my first 30 pages with my writing mentor, and now I'm sharing her advice with all of you (This is part 2! Find part 1 here). She told me my beginning read very slowly because I was giving backstory before it was relevant in the story, rather than intertwining it with the action.

                What I mean by that is, I was giving a lot of exposition on my world just through my character noting it to herself. I worried that if I didn’t lay down the basics right away, when I did mention it later it would come as a bad shock to readers.

While that might have a logic to it, it's very slow to read just exposition on the world. To get these details through naturally and when they're relevant, while still conveying them in the beginning, we needed to create a conflict for my main character to react to right away.

This way, I could spend the first couple pages revealing the essentials of my world and main character without halting the pacing to a stop.

                Okay, consider these two examples:

Character A avoided the alleyways as they travelled to the store. The city was overrun by gangs who liked to lurk in their dark corners, jumping out at unaware passerby’s for coin or favours.

                Vs.

The back of Character A’s neck prickled as they passed an alleyway that swallowed all light. They were steps away when they heard a raspy voice, “don’t you know you gotta pay the fee to pass through our turf?”

                How this character resolves this conflict will betray who they are as a person. Do they cower? Do they fight back? Do they reveal they have connections to another gang, or the police?

                This little conflict, as well as establishing a vital part of your world and character, should in some small way connect to the bigger conflict up ahead, aka the inciting incident.

                In this example, this specific gang would probably be where the main antagonist is from—or the consequences of how they deal with this follow them into the inciting incident in some way.

                Backstory only when it’s most relevant, not to anticipate when it will be important later.

                Good luck!

[flawseer]

Wings of Earth

"For Wings of Earth, search through the mud, for an egg the color of dragon blood."

This line from the Dragonet Prophecy is very funny to me, specifically because it refers to the color of dragon blood.

At face value, that makes sense. These kinds of eggs are relevant primarily to Mudwing culture, and it follows that they would call them "Blood Eggs", as they are the same color as the blood of their people, i.e. a deep red.

However, later we learn that this prophecy did not come from the impartial mouth of fate, rather it has been carefully engineered by the Nightwing elite circle to further their tribe's interests. With that biased origin in mind, note that they did not make reference to a "Blood Egg", which is the established Mudwing term for it, but rather opted to word it as "an egg the color of dragon blood".

Why do I think this is noteworthy? Well, by divorcing the subject from its Mudwing cultural roots like that, it becomes more of a general statement. It's saying "The egg is the color of dragon blood. Dragon blood is red." This statement is true for six of the seven Pyrrhian tribes. The sole exception are the Icewings- who happen to be ancient enemies of the Nightwing tribe -whose blood runs blue instead.

What this implies is that this prophecy was written in a way that covertly insults Icewings. It's insinuating they are not true dragons, i.e. their blood is not the appropriate color. That is on top of already overtly insulting them by not including an Icewing hatchling in the prophecy. As this prophecy is relevant to all the tribes on the continent, it ensures that every tribe will receive and accept this propaganda piece that insidiously proclaims Icewings as lesser beings, including the Icewings themselves.

Or that was the plan. In practice it went nowhere and its authors wound up shamed and humiliated. Whoops.

It is uncertain whether all this was intentional on Sutherland's part; I am likely putting way too much thought into a phrase that was just meant to sound good in a poem. But whenever I read this line, I picture Morrowseer, sitting alone in an empty cave with his writing scroll in front of him, smiling self-importantly while congratulating himself for sticking it to "those snow lizards in the north". Then he goes home and finds a note from his mate telling him she's gone out for the night and that he should de-frost himself some hot dogs in the sink.

And that picture is very funny to me.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello!

How do you leave a good comment on a work when you notice a large error? Or a small error,m I get so nervous to leave a comment nowadays because not many people have clear statements regarding criticism. So, I'm hesitant to point out anything out/ leave a comment that's anything but positive.

I remember a few months ago, on a BNHA work, I corrected the timeline of canon events that author got wrong (because the WIP seemed to be going down that route of "canon adjacent" work that spawn from a canonical event). The author had a message beneath the chapters that "all comments were welcomed," so I thought it was okay to leave the type of comment I did. But I dealt with several aggressive messages from the author and the author's friends about needless critique and how rude I came off as afterwards (I apologized,but I still got messages for a while).

The whole thing freaked me out a bit because I hate any semblance of confrontation ,so now I'm nervous about commenting any work- even those with explicit statements on criticism (welcome ,not welcomed,etc). I leave kudos and such ,but sometimes I debate over whether or not the author needs my comment about their typos. I try to sandwich a critique between two compliments like everyone says,but then I end up with a paragraph-length comment, and I worry about coming off too strongly.

I'm rambling,sorry.

Is there a guide to good comments for criticism in fanworks? Besides not giving criticism when criticism would not be welcomed??

Thank you for your time.

First of all, I'm sorry that you had such a bad experience. I'm sure that was awful for you, and I totally understand why it would freak you out.

When it comes to correcting things in fanfic, there are a lot of things to take into account.

Why does correcting the error matter to you?

How well do you know the author?

How long would it take to make the correction?

There are others, but these are the bigger "buckets" I see most of them fitting into.

If the error matters to you because you get annoyed when you see typos, for example, then that's more of a "you" problem. You can download the fic and edit out the typos and then when you reread it, you won't have to worry about them.

If the error matters to you because you'd be embarrassed if you had posted a fic and there were typos in it, that's also kind of a "you" problem. If the author feels the same way, they'll likely have an author's note indicating that they want to be notified. Otherwise, they're likely resigned to the idea that typos will happen, and if they reread their work themselves, they'll edit them out if and when they catch them.

If the error matters to you because it's non-canonical, this one is more of a wait and see. Maybe the author made the error by accident, but it very well could be on purpose. Perhaps that small change is relevant to the overall plot they're developing. Maybe it's just a thing that they personally hate in canon and have decided that they don't want to include for that reason. Maybe it's a genuine error that they'd be horrified to notice later. There's no way to know.

And that last one is where we come to the second item above. If you know the author well, you can message them and have a chat and bring it up there. I'd recommend just starting out by talking about the story as a whole and what their plan is for it. As I said, maybe what you see as an error is actually a conscious choice that they've made for the story that they want to tell. During that conversation, you'll be able to figure out whether it's actually an error and whether they'd want it pointed out or not.

If you don't know the author well, you could point an error like that out in a comment but then you need to think about the third factor.

Typos take seconds to change. Plot points take hours, days, weeks, or longer. Asking someone to put in a lot of time to make a change to something they've already been working hard on can be really demotivating - even crushing.

For a lot of authors (possibly even most?) they put a lot of work into their fics before they ever get to the point of posting them. They've read, revised, planned, and plotted. They might even have additional chapters already written that are in the revision process and just haven't been posted yet.

Especially in long works, authors look to the comments as a cheering section to urge them on towards completion, so posting corrections or pointing out errors can feel like someone standing up and booing. I think that's what happened in that BNHA situation you referenced in your ask.

That's why the general suggestion when it comes to commenting with corrections is just to not do so. If you want, you can comment about all of the things you like in the fic and then ask if the author wants a beta. That would allow you to have those conversations about their vision for the fic, and it would also allow you to offer feedback before the work is posted and while it's still being edited and worked on.

Otherwise, if it really does bother you, I'm afraid you might just need to dip out and find a different fic.

[hardlyinteresting]

Personal

Aaron Hotchner x reader

A case hits a little too close to home for the reader. Hotch makes sure she knows she not alone even as they struggle to decide if they're colleagues, friends, or something more.

Warnings: female reader, (I've given her the nickname Sweets), No physical description of reader, mildly graphic descriptions of injuries, cannon-compliant themes of violence, themes of past domestic violence, mild hurt/comfort, I am not a profiler so there are likely mistakes in the profile (please let me know if there are any warnings you'd like me to add. Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

Word count: 3.2K

"Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain" Ann-Marie MacDonald

The case comes in early in the morning. Aaron has hardly managed a sip of his coffee when the phone rings with a call from a local P.D. in Aberdeen, Virginia. It's urgent. It always is. He cannot begrudge the haste with which his job forces him to chug down the scalding liquid in his mug as he calls upon Garcia to prep the relevant files for the case. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Sufficiently caffeinated (albeit with a burnt tongue), and briefed on the case, Hotch calls the team to meet him in the conference room. 

His colleagues seem to be in good spirits today. With a passing glance around the room Hotch silently completes a behavioural checklist for each of them in his mind. No one on the team seems over-exhausted, overtly anxious, or withdrawn. They chat amongst themselves, teasing and joking like siblings as they wait for him to settle into the remaining seat at the table. He nods at Penelope, “Garcia, let's get started”. With a quick “yes, sir,” she presses a button on the remote to begin the briefing. 

This morning the police in Aberdeen discovered the body of a woman left propped up against the wall outside a local medical clinic. Abigail Lawson. 27 years old. She had been badly beaten. A single stab wound. No sign of sexual assault. 

“Cause of death?” Prentiss asks. 

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Garcia supplies the response. 

“And she's the first?” Morgan follows up. 

“Two weeks ago Stella Amos, twenty-five,  was admitted to hospital with similar injuries. She passed away two hours later. A punctured lung”. 

The photographs of the injuries are disturbing. After years on the job, the images never seem to get less brutal. A chill travels down his spine as he looks over the extent of the wounds on both of the women. A hush falls over the room as everyone else takes a moment to swallow down their own shock and compartmentalize their feelings of disgust. They train themselves, scanning the photographs and notes for the facts they can work with in hopes of saving anyone else from meeting the same fate. 

“No stab wound. Are we sure these cases are connected?” Reid surveys the provided facts one more time.

“Similar age, hair colour. They were from the same neighbourhood. Steady jobs,” Rossi lists, “there's a pattern in victimology to be sure”.

“They could be unconnected acts of domestic violence,” Morgan posits before continuing, “but leaving these women at medical centres is unique. Could be remorse”.

“A man who beats women within an inch of their lives before dropping them off for medical attention. It's a big risk. Knowing they might survive to identify him”.

Hotch nods at the assessment. He had followed the same thought process himself when he got the call. 

“Maybe he's banking on them being too afraid to talk if they do pull through,” another voice in the room speaks up for the first time this morning. Sweets, the team calls her. An affectionate nickname that’s stuck since her first week on the team. “the stabbing is an escalation and these are high-risk victims. This UNSUB isn't worried about getting caught. These attacks are personal to him somehow”. It's an important assertion, and something they'll need to consider as they build and expand their working profile. 

He's glad to hear Sweets adding to the conversation. She's never been shy when contributing to the team's brainstorms, and he had begun to worry when it had taken her so long to speak up. He doesn't miss the wobble in her tone, or the way she now avoids eye contact. She’s a valuable team member, and despite being the most recent addition she’s settled herself flawlessly over the last year. Aaron is well aware of the poor retention rate for new team members in the BAU and has continued to be impressed by her ability to hang on to her brand of optimism and take their most difficult cases in stride. She’s worked hard to see the best in people, and unsurprisingly endeared herself to those around her; himself included. 

At first, Hotch had been grateful for her unique perspective from her experience working for victim services. Then, he grew to appreciate her attention to detail, and the way his piles of paperwork seemed smaller and smaller at the end of each week. She quickly became a friend and a confidant after long nights in the office, and the field. Now, their relationship lies in limbo somewhere between friends and something more. 

Lately, the tugging at his heartstrings has grown nearly painful. All the old cliches leave his heart racing and he feels like a teenager whenever her hand brushes against his own. A night out with the team had ended with her curled up in his bed the next morning, and he’s been a goner ever since. It's been weeks, she hasn’t mentioned it, so neither has he. The guise of professionalism makes it easy to shove down his insecurities, and recurring fears; his age; his scars, physical and metaphorical; the weight of his career; he pushes them to the back of his mind. He does not dare to hope. He does not allow himself to consider the reasons why she might want to keep him at arm's length. It hurts less that way. “Whatever the case we've got a week before he strikes again,” Hotch confirms, his mind focused on the case, “we should head out”.

It’s August, and the sun is nearly blinding; the heat and humidity are intolerable, but nobody complains as they split up between the most recent crime scene, the morgue, and the precinct. Hotch would never admit it, but he’s glad when the woman who occupies half his thoughts volunteers to head to the station with JJ. Not for his peace of mind, but hers. Driving into the town he had seen her hands fidgeting in the back seat of the Suburban. Something about this case is already weighing on her, and he doubts the discomfort of the summer calefaction will be much help. He tries not to think about it any more than that. 

The crime scene doesn’t tell them much more than they already knew. There’s no security footage to help them identify the UNSUB. But, the way he leans the victims to sit against the way rather than just dumping them shows some kind of warped sense of concern for their well-being. The women are likely substitutes for someone else. He was likely raised in a violent home. He can only hope that the rest of the team has managed to learn more. 

Sweets is glad that the station had the forethought to move a coffee maker into the room they’ve set up for the BAU team to work out of. In her short time on the team, she’s learned how essential caffeine is to the function of herself and her teammates. Not enjoying coffee is not an option. Cream and sugar make it tolerable to those who despise the bitter taste. As she preps her second cup of the day she watches Spencer dump 4 packets of sugar into his mug. Whatever gets you through the case. She reminds herself. 

“Defensive wounds on her arms, but her manicure wasn't chipped. There was no blood or skin under her fingernails. No bruising on her knuckles,” Morgan shares what he and Rossi learned at the morgue, “She held her arms up to protect herself, but she didn't fight back. She didn't scratch, claw, or punch her assailant”. 

“She probably knew him then,” Prentiss says, “He’s not sneaking up on these women. But, he has the advantage and control required to attack them head-on”. 

The profile continues to build and Sweets pulls further in on herself. The personal nature of the attacks leaves her nauseous. Flickers of memories she’s fought hard to forget flash behind her eyes, but she forces herself to stay in the room. Reign it in, she wills herself. Without looking across the room she knows Aaron’s eyes are on her. Her cheeks warm though she can’t be sure if it’s his gaze or her anxiety to blame. She tries not to read into it, not wanting to feel too self-important. It’s his job to watch everyone on the team, she knows that. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself the same way she has since she woke up next to him all those weeks ago. She doesn't want attention because she slept with him, and she'd be silly to think it meant anything to him anyway. It's easier to ignore it. He hasn't mentioned it, so she hasn't either.

Despite her best efforts, she does like him. More than she should. Normally, the attention would leave her with butterflies fluttering in her chest, like a schoolgirl with a crush. But today, she feels too seen, too exposed. she focuses her attention on controlling the unwanted emotions this case continues to dredge up. Aaron has seen her undressed, he’s seen her let down her walls and crack jokes. He knows her better than the rest of the team, but this is not a side of her he needs to see. 

 Under the table she plants her feet, pressing the soles of her boots hard against the linoleum. She reminds herself who she’s with and why she’s here. When she’s able to breathe without gagging she speaks up, “If it looks like domestic violence maybe that’s exactly what it is”.  Hotch’s head tilts up, his eyes moving off of the files he’s been pretending to read for the hundredth time, “What do you mean?”

“This morning Morgan said these murders looked like cases of DV. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. We know he had some kind of relationship with the victims-- maybe they were dating him,” Sweets holds her breath waiting for a response.

“It would help to explain the gaps in our profile-- Prentiss, call Garcia and have her look into any recent purchases by the victims. New clothes, new shoes, restaurants, anything that might suggest they’ve been dating,” Hotch instructs, “Sweets, you and JJ should speak to their friends and family; ask if they’ve mentioned anyone new in their lives”. 

Like with any case, she hopes her insight helps, that her perspective and thinking might get them one step closer to finding the UNSUB before anyone else gets hurt; and that they might be able to bring closure to the families of the victims. 

She's learned that personal experience can help as much as it can hinder. Seeing things from an angle that no one else can is certainly an advantage, but it doesn't make it easy to live with either. But, her stomach churns. His face. His touch. The bruises he left behind. She tries to remember she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has nothing to hide. It's no secret everyone on the team struggles with different types of cases, JJ has always found it difficult working cases involving children, and Hotch becomes snappier when they're searching for family annihilators. 

She can feel Aaron's eyes on her again. She prays the twisting in her gut and the scratching in her mind are worth it. 

The next morning begins with news of a third victim. A Jane Doe was found outside the fire station. Aged between 22 and 25. Beaten beyond any kind of recognition. The M.E. will have to try to use dental records to ID her. 

The crime scene photographs are a gruesome addition to the already horrific crime board in the conference room. “It would take an incredible amount of rage and power to beat someone to death like this,” Rossi points out. 

Hotch’s fingers buzz. His usual ground method of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together isn't working. He clenches and unclenches his fist willing the memory of bone cracking, and blood splattering beneath his knuckles away. He hates that even years after his death George Foyet continues to find new ways to sink his teeth in; the mere memory of him is enough to leave bile rising in the back of Aaron's throat. 

Their profile is ready. A white male, mid 20s to early 30s. Traditionally attractive. He's well-groomed and takes pride in his appearance. He more than likely works in an office setting. At work, his desk is neat and well-organized. He does everything by the book. He aspires to a role above his own and will talk about it often. In his eyes, he's overworked and under-appreciated; but, in reality, it's his quick temper and outward frustration that have kept him in his menial role. He may be flirtatious towards the women around him but likely won't pay them any attention when it comes to business matters. As a child he would have grown up in a working-class household, and more than likely faced abuse at the hands of his father. As a teenager, he learned to place blame on his mother for this abuse and began looking down on her the same way his father did. But no amount of hatred could ever win him his father's attention. This made him hate his mother more and allowed his misogynistic views to solidify in adulthood. He will have a history of violence throughout school and early adulthood, and more than likely charges for battery or assault. 

A call from Garcia confirms that the first and second victims both had paid for dinners at restaurants within the same two-block stretch despite living and working on opposite sides of town. Their cards had been used at the restaurants only 25 minutes before their attacks. 

“And he didn’t pay for their dinners either. Chivalry really is dead,” Prentiss dismisses. Predictably, their collective disdain for the UNSUB continues to grow as they learn more about him. Penelope manages to rustle up security footage from one of the restaurants, she's unable to get a facial ID on the man leaving with the first victim but promises to search for other footage from the area and call back when she has a new lead. One step closer, Hotch reminds himself. 

Twenty minutes later word from the M.E. Office arrives. A positive ID on Jane Doe. Grace McKinney, 24. Aaron watches as Sweets pins a photograph of Grace to the victims' board. Her hands shake as she takes a step back, and then she's rushing out of the room before he can ask if she's alright. 

His body feels lead-heavy, his limbs so hebetudinous that he’d swear he was melting into the floor if it weren’t for his feet carrying him out of the room without instruction. Sweets is doubled over in the alleyway behind the station, remnants of her breakfast splashed across the ground. She has nothing left to bring up, but still she dry heaves as if trying to expel more than the contents of her stomach. He knows the feeling. 

“Sweets?” his voice starles her, and Hotch is quick to hold his hands out in a surrendering motion as he approaches, “Are you alright?” He knows the real answer, and he knows that she’ll look right at him and lie; but he asks anyway. “Are you asking as my boss, or as my friend?” She asks. “Would it make a difference?” it’s his turn to wonder. Finally close enough to touch her, he places a hand on her back. It’s impossible to miss the shiver that runs up her spine. Sweets hides her face, angling herself away from her, shrinking in on herself. She tries to hide from him, as unwilling as ever to show any kind of weakness real or perceived. “I’m asking as someone who cares,” Hotch tries again, snuffing out the burning sensation that seems to grow in his chest; his fear of vulnerability fighting hard to shut him down. He won’t let it. “It’s me,” she tells him as if it’s obvious. “Yes”. He's confused. Of course, it's her, he can see her standing right in front of him. “It's me. I'm the Jane Doe; Grace. Abigail. Stella”. His heart stops. She continues, looking at him for the first time, her eyes tearing up, “Not literally-- I just mean…”

“The victimogy. I understand. Same age, hair colour, similar backgrounds--”

“Yes,” She admits, “but we see cases with women who look like me all the time”. 

Aaron nods, taking her openness as an opportunity to guide her out of the alleyway, waiting patiently for her to continue in her own time. “I had a boyfriend a few years ago…I just-- I need some time to collect myself”. 

Again, Aaron nods, understanding, “Would you like me to leave?” 

She shakes her head, her hand shooting up to hold to his arm. She’s shaking less now than she was before. More than ever he wants to hold her, but he doesn’t want to overstep; and during a case, there are lines he cannot cross as her boss. It’s the crux of the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Their personal lives and feelings bleeding and blending to create this strait. Deep down, he’s sure that a line of open communication between them would ease this impasse, but he’s far too shy to suggest it. For now, he settles for being glad her breathing has slowed, and her tears have stopped. “Thank you,” Sweets breathes out. Her hand slips down to squeeze his before she lets go and steps away from him.  “Anytime,” he swears. He means it. 

They find their UNSUB three hours later. Garcia’s scanning of security footage gives them a few license plates from cars within a two-block radius of the restaurants the victims went to. Only one owner fits their profile. He’s at work when they find him. Sweets takes great pleasure in cuffing the man. Hotch has no complaints. 

When they arrive back in Quantico it’s nearing midnight. The team takes their leaving swearing they’ll finish their paperwork tomorrow morning. Sweets takes advantage of the rare silence in the bullpen to complete her reports. She’s not ready to go home. Not yet. At work, she has a shield, a carefully crafted persona; as cracked as it may be at the moment, it holds back the onslaught of personal fallout she’s sure waits for her at home. Sure her apartment is warmer and cozier than the office ever is. Her bed is far more comfortable than any desk chair. But, at home, she has nothing to distract her. At home, she has no obligation to maintain a facade sewn up by professional self-preservation. At home, she’ll be alone without the steady presence of Aaron Hotchner working away in his office. 

The room is bathed in warm lamplight, a comfortable difference from the overhead fluorescents down in the bullpen. Something like a moth, she’s drawn to it by an instinct stronger than her willpower. She knocks on the door frame before leaning into the room. “I finished my report,” she tells him when he looks up. “You didn’t have to finish that tonight,” he tells her with furrowed brows. He sets down his pen and shuts the file he was working on to give her his attention. She steps into the room, setting her report on the edge of his desk. “I didn’t want to go home yet”. She explains though she gets the feeling that he understands. If there’s anyone she knows with a mutual streak of using workplace responsibility to avoid personal turmoil, it’s Hotch. Still, he nods, validating her most simply. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Are you asking as my boss or something more?” she wonders. 

“Would it make a difference?” He asks. “Yes,” She responds. Sweets watches as he swallows, his brows knitting together as he considers his answer carefully, “I’m asking as someone who cares about you very much, in whatever capacity you need me to right now”. It’s a diplomatic response. Gentle and inviting without being outright hopeful. Quintessentially Aaron Hotchner. 

“Will you come home with me,” Sweets allows herself to be bold enough to ask. 

“Yes,” he tells her simply. 

In the morning he slips away only to return with two cups of coffee and a box of breakfast pastries. They don’t need to be in the office until 10:00 and he plans on taking advantage of the time they have together until then. Sweets accepts the cup he holds out to her with an eager smile, and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

[reasonsforhope]

"A company in France has developed genetically-enhanced houseplants that remove 30 times more indoor air pollutants than your normal ficus.

Paint, treated wood, household cleaners, insulation, unseen mold—there is a shopping list of things that can fill the air you breathe in your home with VOCs or volatile organic compounds. These include formaldehyde and other airborne substances that can cause inflammation and irritation in the body.

The best way to tackle this little-discussed private health problem is by keeping good outdoor airflow into your living spaces, but in the dog days of summer or the depths of a Maine winter, that might not be possible.

Houseplants can remove these pollutants from the air, and so the company Neoplants decided to make simple alterations to these species’ genetic makeup to supercharge this cleaning ability.

In particular, houseplants’ natural ability to absorb pollutants like formaldehyde relies on them storing them as toxins to be excreted later.

French scientists and Neoplants’ co-founders Lionel Mora and Patrick Torbey engineered a houseplant to convert them instead to plant matter. They also took aim at the natural microbiome of houseplants to enhance their ability to absorb and process VOCs as well.

The company’s first offering—the Neo P1—is a Devil’s ivy plant that sits on a custom-designed tall stand that both maximizes its air-cleaning properties and allows it to be watered far less often.

Initial testing, conducted by the Ecole Mines-Telecom of Lille University, shows that if you do choose to shell out the $179 for the Neo P1, it’s as if you were buying 30 houseplants. Of course, if you went for the budget route of 30 houseplants, you’d have to water them all.

The founders pointed out in an interview done with Forbes last year that once they settled on the species and fixed the winning genetic phenotype, the next part of the process was just raising plants, the same activity done in every nursery and florist in every town in Europe."

Deliveries for the P1 are estimated for August 2024.

-via Good News Network, November 6, 2023

--

Note: I'm not a plant biologist, but if this works the way the company's white paper says it does, holy genetic engineering, Batman.

(Would love to hear thoughts from anyone who is a plant biologist or other relevant field!)

[pers1st]

ducky

pairing: leah williamson x jordan nobbs x platonic!reader

notes: no plot just vibes, bit angsty, mentions of parental neglect

"It's too early", you groaned as Leah finally opened her apartment door for you, allowing Bella to jump up against your legs, the force of the dog almost making you fall backwards as your senses were still slowed from a good night of sleep.

"You say that every morning", Leah huffed, gently pulling the dog by her collar and allowing for you to finally step into the familiar flat. This place had been your home for just a year. It had surprised quite a lot of people for Leah to be the first to offer taking you in, mostly because the woman wasn't known to be too responsible, but both her and Jordan had watched your career since you'd played for the under 15's of England and were more than delighted when you'd finally signed your first professional contract, at only seventeen years old, for the Arsenal. The picture of the three of you after your Arsenal debut still sat on Leah's shelf by the shoe rack, where you discarded your sneakers as if this was still your place. You hadn't lived here for just a year, but the familiar warmth still welcomed you every morning that you found yourself back here, never regretting, though never admitting it either, that you had agreed to join your jokingly-called mother ducks for breakfast each sunrise.

"Is she here? Is ducky here?", Jordan yelled from the kitchen, where you found her sitting on her phone, looking up at you with a large smile on her face.

"Oh, thank God! I was starving", she chuckled as she rose from her seat to gently pull you into a hug. You made no move to wrap your arms around her smaller body.

"Too. Early."

Pulling the hood of your sweater above your head, you waddled over towards the stove, ready to start the food.

"Seriously, this is child labour", you huffed as you grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge.

"You say that every morning, ducky", Leah snickered once more as she took a seat next to Jordan, following your movements with her eyes.

"Besides, you're an adult now", Jordan added, still scrolling on her phone.

"Yeah, and so are you two! Learn to cook!", you groaned as you threw the empty carton at Jordan's head, not caring too much when the woman protested, threatening to kick you out again. You knew that she wouldn't. She was starving, after all.

It was a few hours later when you were finally headed to Meadow Park, getting ready to start the last fixture of the season. You had slowly but surely made your way into the starting eleven at Arsenal, and had joined the lionesses camp for a couple of friendly matches before the home Euros this summer, which was still looming over your head. Both Leah and Jordan knew that you were in contention to make the squad, and were hopeful that you would join Leah and the rest of the lionesses, but you had great competition, and your call-up wasn't a given. Not yet. The last couple of matches in the Women's Super League, you had given your every bit and piece on the pitch, wanting to keep yourself relevant for the Euro's selection.

Jordan and Leah would do their best to cheer you up if you didn't make it, but they knew that, despite the prospect of getting to spend the summer with Jordan, cheering Leah on, you would be absolutely broken if you didn't make it.

"Hey, ducky, gonna score some bangers?", Katie smiled as you entered the changing room, not even bothering to act offended about your nickname. You had received it after just a few weeks of being at the club, when Katie and Beth had started realizing just how much you followed Leah and Jordan around when you had no clue what else to do, subsequently naming the pair your mother-ducks. Though annoying at first, you quickly grew to accept it, knowing that arguing would not help when it came to this group of women.

"Hopefully", you grimaced as you discarded your slippers. In the past few weeks, you hadn't been up to small talk much. The whole team knew that you wanted this international tournament with England -the home Euros - every footballers dream would be to play in your country, for your country. But they worried anyways. You had always put yourself under a lot of pressure, and while Leah and Jordan knew it was due to the fact that subconsciously, you were doing everything you could to impress your parents, who didn't even seem to follow your career in the slightest, they kept that fact about you hidden carefully from the rest of your teammates, even being unsure of how to speak about the situation to you.

In truth, you had been shocked when your parents had first allowed you to move to London and away from your home in Manchester to pursue a football career. You had been training in the Manchester City Academy for years, devoting yourself entirely to football, but your parents had never taken notice of your efforts, no matter how much you begged and pleaded for them to watch one of your matches.

You'd had to rely on your teammates' parents to bring you to and from training or matches, and the only thing your parents seemed to appreciate was the fact that you were mostly busy - with football or school, either way, away from their house. It was impossible to reason their behavior, to pinpoint an event that made them change the way they saw you. But you didn't have to - your new club, your new home, your new mother-ducks mostly kept you distracted, never allowing you much time to meddle with your thoughts, to get lost in them. Still, it was obvious to Leah and Jordan that while you faced this complicated relationship with your parents, you had never really dealt with it, and it became evident when you injured yourself in today's match.

Jordan had been the one to hook your arm over her shoulder in order to get you to the medical room steadily, without putting any pressure on your knee. She had been the one to hold your hand while the medical staff worked their way in an attempt to find out what exactly caused your pain, but from the way your knee had given into the right when it had collided with that of your opponent, your mind was set - it was an ACL. Nothing Jordan or Leah told you on the way home could change your mind - you were merely waiting for the confirmation that tomorrow's scans would bring - and so you put in your earbuds and drowned their somber voices out of your head, desperate to escape their attempts at soothing you. You didn't need pity, you needed to be back on the pitch. You needed to be at the Euros, needed to play, needed to keep yourself fit. In your mind, though, everything had already gone to shit.

Dismissing the two women who had settled in the living room after Leah's shower, you waddled, as best as you could on your crutches, towards the sink, pouring yourself a glass of water. As you leaned over the countertop to push the emptied glass back, you knocked down one of your crutches, the sound of it connecting to the floor startling Leah and Jordan as their heads turned, all the while you were cursing under your breath. Your knee was throbbing with pain, despite the medication you had been forced to swallow in the medical room of Meadow Park, but you were damned if you'd let Leah, who had already rose from the couch, reach down to the floor to grab it for you.

"I got it", she mumbled as she came up behind you, but you were quick to push her back.

"It's fine", you muttered as you bent your knee painfully slowly, bending over to pick up the stupid crutch from the ground.

"Are you still in pain? Do you want more medication? We've still got-"

"It's fine."

And with that, Leah and Jordan were forced to watch you hop back into your room, shutting the door quite harshly, without knowing what to do with you.

"She's taking this really hard", Jordan mumbled as Leah joined her on the sofa again, snuggling into her side with Jordan's arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Yeah", the blonde answered, huffing. "You did, too. Anyone would", she sighed. It was the worst possible timing for an injury, but they had no clue that your demeanor was not only a result of frustration, but rather rooted so deeply in a fear that they had no way of understanding. You were so, so scared.

Everybody knew that you were in the most important part of your career - you were young, only eighteen, and tearing your ACL when you'd just began starting for one of the top clubs regularly, just when you'd began making appearances for your nation could ruin absolutely everything you'd worked for. It could send you off the Arsenal roster, could send you right back to your parents' house with no education, a messed up knee and no future. Those thoughts kept you up at night, but no matter how hard you tried to silence your sobs in the soft pillow, you should've known that both Jordan and Leah were light sleepers, and that it was only a matter of time until you had to reveal the mess unfolding in your head.

The time came at round two in the morning. You had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, no longer able to bear your thoughts and breaking out into violent sobs. Of course, Leah had heard you, and cautiously stepped into the room that had once been yours officially, switching on the light.

The sight of you scared her. In the year you'd spent living with her, and another year of being your teammate, she'd only ever seen you cry with Jordan when she'd injured her knee not long ago, and that was purely because you were an empathic person. This, though - it was different, and she knew.

"Ducky? Hey, what's wrong?", she asked cautiously, voice still thick with sleep as she stepped closer to your bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

Your voice sliced through the air shakily, hoarse, and so so small. Leah immediately pulled you into her as she lowered herself to the edge of your mattress, holding you closely as your frame shook with sobs.

"What's wrong? Talk to me, please", she begged, gently rocking you back and forth, still minding your knee which was packed with ice.

"I'm scared, Lee", you sobbed, just as the door creaked again and Jordan entered. If you didn't know any better, you would've believed she was sleepwalking, with the way she barely lifted her feet off the floor, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she scanned the room, pinching her eyes at the bright light.

It got the smallest of smiles to glisten on your lips, though it didn't last long.

"Of what?"

Leah asked, seemingly not having noticed her girlfriend in the doorframe.

"I can't- what if I have to leave? What if they get rid of me- what if- I can't go back there, Lee", you sobbed, crying even harder at the realization of just how scared you were. You had hoped that by proving to be a successful athlete, you could restore some of your parents' warmth in you. Showing up at their doorstep with a broken body and crushed dreams certainly was the worst-case scenario. It would rip you apart.

"Ducky, it's okay, calm down", Jordan asked of you, who had, in the meantime, settled by your feet, gently holding her hand out for you to grasp, which you did slowly after Leah released you from her grip.

"Nobody is going to get rid of you. We didn't get rid of Jordan either, look at 'er!", Leah chuckled as she watched her girlfriend shift into a position more comfortable for her own knee, never letting go of your hand.

"Besides, ducky, did you feel a pop in your knee?"

You shook your head. She had asked you this before.

"Did the pain go away after a few minutes?"

You shook your head again.

"Is your knee swollen? Do you feel like you can't move it?"

To all of those questions, you shook your head.

"Then I'll be damned if it's your ACL. You clashed knees, ducky. It's painful, and it's scary, but it's not the end of the world, it's not the end of your career", she hummed, gently lifting a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek.

"Wise words, Jordan. Never thought I'd say that", Leah chuckled, which immediately collected a laugh from you, even if you hadn't thought it possible just a few minutes ago. Jordan shrugged.

"Ducky is wiser than me", she sighed as she sprawled herself on your and Leah's legs, her back resting between your knee and your ankles by the very end of the bed.

"Thanks, guys. Go back to bed", you smiled at the dedication of the two women, seriously questioning where you'd be if it wasn't for them.

"What do you mean? We are in bed!"

And that was how you spent your last night in Leah's home with Jordan present, being pulled into the whirlwind of the Euros and the absolute bliss that came from winning it. Despite the fact that you were only granted a few minutes, usually towards the end of the matches, you were named the "super-sub", and gained quite the following on your social accounts. One thing never came though, and that was a message of your parents. Not even a little "congrats" text, no - instead, there was complete radio silence.

It was easy to forget about it in the afterglow of your win, and how quickly the season started off again. It was easy to forget about a lot of things, apparently, because you only noticed something seemed to be off when Leah glared as you let yourself into her apartment with the key she'd given you.

"Morning", you shouted into the space as you discarded your shoes, as usual, the slightest bit more awake given the fact that you had today off, meaning breakfast omelettes were served a little later than usually.

"Morning, ducky", Leah sighed from the kitchen as you joined her, noticing the lack of mother duck number two.

"Where's Jords?", you asked as you opened the fridge, pulling your hood above your head as usually to remain warmer.

"Not here, obviously", Leah gave back, and at that, you stopped in your tracks. Come to think of it, you hadn't seen Jordan for breakfast for about a week now. So far, Leah had always given you a good enough reason - her parents were in town, she was sick and didn't want to infect you and Leah, she had to take care of Blu.

This, however? Something was sketchy about it. The lack of interaction between your mother ducks during training or matches replayed in your head - how Jordan had stuck to Katie and Caitlin recently, seemingly only conversing with Leah when you were present as well. Something was sketchy.

"Why?", you asked, dragging out your word as you turned around to see Leah sitting at the kitchen table, looking back at you with something resembling defeat in her eyes.

"We broke up", she mumbled, her voice barely audible for you. Still, you understood her.

Her words took you aback, so much so that you completely disregarded your task, joining Leah as you sat across from her. Leah and Jordan had broken up. It all came back to you now - there had been a weird tension in the dressing room recently, but you hadn't noticed it until now that you thought back to it. Leah and Jordan only talked to each other when you were present. The past few breakfasts had been spent listening to you talk and talk and talk in a desperate attempt to hide the gaping hole of disappointment in your parents. Jordan hadn't been here in a week - to watch Blu?

"Why?", you asked, your tone matching hers.

"I don't know. It's complicated."

"When?"

At this point, you were bargaining for any kind of information.

"About a month ago?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

This time, your voice sounded hurt. You trusted Leah and Jordan with everything - opening yourself up completely, and although you knew that you were a lot younger than them, and somewhat like their kid, it hurt you to know that they had not even considered letting you know about this.

"You're still young, ducky. We just thought-"

"Thought what? That I wouldn't notice?"

Leah sighed at that, defeatedly, once more. You immediately regretted your harsh tone, knowing that your mother duck number one was going through a break up right now. If the two of them breaking up seemed impossible to you - how must it have felt for them?

"We just- I don't know. I'm sorry, ducky." Despite the emotions that must have been cursing through her, Leah smiled softly as you pushed yourself up from your chair and into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her neck as you let her rub your back comfortingly.

"Me too, Lee."

Things changed after the breakup, but not really for you. You alternated between Leah's and Jordan's flat, not caring about the both of them whining how hungry they were every other day, instead teaching them how to make an omelette, because it truly was time for them to learn. The two women were, as it seemed, on friendly terms as they still crowded around you whenever either they wanted something or you simply craved the both of their presence.

Jordan returned to the pitch shortly after the Euros, and for a brief lapse of time it truly seemed as if the three of you had fallen into a new routine, a different one, that worked-

That was until Jordan sat you down after practice one day, long after everyone else had left, and told you about her future departure of the club.

"You're leaving?", your tone seemed almost choked as you put your head on Jordan's shoulder cautiously, her words replaying in the back of your head all over again.

"Yeah. It's time for me to move on, to do something new. I'm old, ducky. It's time", she huffed, and you could tell by her tone that she was close to tears as well.

"But you love this club", you voiced, not understanding why Jordan felt the need to leave. Was it Leah? Was it you?

"I know. I do. But I don't get any minutes here, and I want to play football, ducky."

At that, you held your breath. Ever since the Euros, you had become a regular starter for Arsenal. Often in Jordan's position. You had taken her spot.

"I'm sorry, Jords. I didn't mean to-"

"No, ducky. Absolutely not. I will not have you apologize for being great. You are so young, and you deserve this more than anyone I know. You will be incredible for this club, I know it. Don't apologize", she immediately interrupted you, gently brushing her finger through your hair.

"But I took your place", you mumbled, the realization coming in slowly that Jordan wouldn't be here in a few months.

"No, you didn't. You earned your place. Matter of fact, I gave it to you."

You could hear by her tone that she was smiling, and you had to chuckle at her words.

"But you'll visit me, right? And I'll visit you?", you asked cautiously, the thought of not seeing your mother duck again suddenly climbing through your chest.

"You'll visit me, and I'll visit you. And I'll show you how good I'll get at making omelettes. I'm not leaving you, ducky."

The day she actually left the club was easily one of the hardest of your life. Leah's speech had you crying into Jordan's shoulder, and you were too far gone to say any of the words you had written down yourself to send off your mother duck. But you slipped Jordan the note before she left, letting her take you into one last hug before watching her get into her car and drive off.

Throughout the rest of the season, many of the girls joked that you would become an Aston Villa fan, given your dedication to watch every match of theirs, often in person. In the end, you truly found your footing at Arsenal and in the England team, relying on both of your mother ducks immensely whenever you needed to. They were both there for you, no matter what distance separated the three of you, and although you knew it was far more difficult for them, both Jordan and Leah kept their promises, often traveling back and forth for the three of you to see each other again.