#hopefully I can fight writers block lol

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don���t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[warabidakihime]

Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic). 

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

-

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?” 

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true—it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip. 

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

[vintagemulti]

shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

series masterlist

masterlist

the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

-

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

-

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

-

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?

[sunnami]

wips. (happy pride month and 1k!)

— snippets of all my ongoing works! hopefully this motivates me to finish them, lol. this is my apology for not posting the last few months huhuhu. enjoy! please remember these are unedited drafts!

last part of time-traveller harry au. (5k words written, my highest priority atm, got stuck in one of the scenes, but i think i can complete it soon now that i realize my writer’s block was due to me having an issue with the spacing... i hate having adhd.)

the houses as the miscommunication trope (hufflepuff ver.) (miscommunication trope is my guilty pleasure, sue me; i love hufflepuffs, y’all.)

isekai au. (i usually hate the modern reader in the hp universe, but after reading some godly fics and watching lovely runner. . . I GET IT.)

enemies to lovers au. (but the reader was forced to be a dark wizard. YEAH YEAAH! THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!)

animagus au. (i love shifter fics where the mc is just so tiny and cute, and the love interests are these big glorious animals. DO U SEE THE VISION AJGKSKG. i was supposed to post this before my latest fic. . . but i decided that there wasn't enough angst to work on, so. . .)

werewolf au. (TWILIGHT ROMANCE LETS GO, LMAO. MATES!! THE "UR MINE" MOMENT. SOULMATES, AAAAH!! two snippets—which is basically the entire draft of this fic, lmao!)

drabble: their favorite photograph of you. (i love the marauders sm)

my personal favorite: the solitary firebird. (this would be my dream to write and complete, but this would be a full-on fic with character development and all. it would require so much commitment. one day, aaa. it’s inspired by one of my most favorite fics ever: the sterling nightingale. it’s a finnick odair story on ao3!! but, the next enemies to lovers i write, might be a condensed one-shot of this plot.)

AJGKSKGKF TELL MEE WHAT U THOUGHT AAAA THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K !!! maybe for 2k ill reveal another batch of wips ueueue.

i promise to really, really improve on my writing. there's a lot i think i could do better. im so so grateful for the sweet comments on my posts, the lovely messages in my ask box. im so so humbled and grateful. thank you. 🤎

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: wow! you guys really liked the last svech fic 🥹 thanks for the love! have some more lol. title is lyrics from songbird by fleetwood mac and i am atrocious at coming up with titles so 🤷🏼‍♀️ writing for svech is so fun and is definitely shaking loose some of my writer’s block so i’m going to ride the wave as long as possible. also this got wildly long whoops

tw: some sexual innuendo, but nothing crazy graphic. also a lil bit of a breeding kink (sorry not sorry) and extreme cuteness and girl dad!svech if that’s something you need to be warned about 😇

summary: you and the baby surprise andrei at a game

Evie fights her nap, pushing her pacifier from her face and kicking her little pajama-clad legs in the air. You sigh and stroke her downy blonde hair, “Evie-bug, come on. Mama needs to get things done and you need a nap.”

“No!” Evie squeals, her favorite word. “No, no, no,” she chants and you’re starting to feel a little crazy.

She’s been fussy lately, in a sleep regression and fighting her naps. So you’re both a little overtired and cranky. You cross your arms over the crib railing and drop your head to rest on your forearms, accepting that you’ll probably just have to let her freak out for a bit until she wears herself out. Hopefully that doesn’t mess with your plans for the rest of the day.

A warm, broad hand lands in between your shoulder blades and the spicy scent of Andrei’s cologne surrounds you. “She’s being cranky, still?” he asks and you nod.

“I’ve basically given up,” you mumble. “A one-year-old on nap strike is my Waterloo.” You turn around, leaning your back against the railing and get a good look at your husband. His face is pulled into a sympathetic frown and he’s half dressed, blue suit pants sitting low on his hips. His hair is slicked back, getting a little long so it flips out into the cute little wings behind his ears. You love those little wings and reach up to twist your fingers into the ends of his hair, feeling your stress melt away with his proximity and the body heat coming off of his bare chest.

He chuckles a little at your joke and says, “Let me try,” leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

You scoot to the side, flinging one hand out in a ‘be my guest’ kind of gesture and watch as Evie immediately starts giggling happily when Andrei bends into her line of sight. The little traitor.

Not that you can blame her. You’ve been a giggly mess in Andrei’s presence for years now.

“Evgenia Svechnikova, are you giving your mama a hard time?” he says, clearly trying to maintain a stern tone, but fails spectacularly and ends up speaking in a baby-talk coo.

Evie giggles and reaches for him, babbling “Da, da, da,” until he lifts her out of the crib and settles her into the crook of his arm like she’s a six-pound infant again. Your ovaries twinge with want at the adorable sight - you’re never going to get over seeing Andrei be the best dad to your baby. She turns her little face and buries it against Andrei’s skin, immediately quieting and relaxing.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, humming a little under his breath. You pass him the pacifier Evie had discarded and he takes it, fluidly nudging it into her mouth when she yawns. Her eyelids grow heavy as Andrei rocks her, covering up the brown eyes that match his exactly. One hand pats her bottom gently and rhythmically and you watch, more than a little awed, as Evie slips right into sleep. He looks up and catches your eye, grinning smugly. He winks at you and you scowl playfully, flipping him off. A laugh bubbles in his chest, but he visibly smothers it so he doesn’t wake Evie. He sways for a few more minutes, still humming, and you watch him watch her. There are faint dark circles under his eyes from all the travel and the late nights with Evie when he is home, but his lips are curled in a soft, sweet smile and he just looks so right holding your daughter.

Once he’s satisfied that Evie’s fully asleep, Andrei carefully transitions her into the crib and you pull her little blanket up over her body. She shifts and you both freeze, staring at her as if she’s a ticking time-bomb, but all Evie does is sigh softly around her pacifier and relax into the mattress, flopping her arms to the side in a starfish position. You breathe a sigh of relief and click on the baby monitor before tiptoeing out of the nursery, Andrei hot on your heels. He pulls the door partly shut and turns to you, looking supremely satisfied with himself.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, not even annoyed and just glad Evie’s down for a nap.

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” he replies smugly, laughing while he pulls you in for a hug. He kisses your temple and you inhale his scent.

“She’s not the only one,” you tease, kissing his sternum. There’s not even close to enough time before he leaves for the arena to do anything fun, so you make yourself content with a very long hug. Andrei laughs and pinches your side a little, getting you to wiggle against his front.

His voice is low in your ear when he whispers, “you’re going to distract me, if all I can think about during the game is you.”

His hands are warm on your back and you press yourself closer to him, feeling the hardness of his thighs through his slacks. “How about,” you say, “for every point you get tonight, we try a new position.”

You pull back a little to look up at his face and Andrei’s eyes are twinkling like a kid in a candy store. He smirks, dimple popping, and says slowly, “one position for each point? Any position?”

“Any position,” you confirm, feeling a rush of arousal through your veins. “But only if you get points.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, confident and cocky. “I have motivation now.” His hand slips to your ass and he kisses you deeply, a promise of what’s to come. You melt into his touch, until you remember that he has a game to get to, and pull away.

He pouts and grabs for you when you slip from his touch. “No, no,” you remind him, “you have a game to get to! I will not be on the receiving end of a Rod phone call because you’re late - again!” You squint at him, faux-annoyed.

“That was worth it!” he points out, padding down the hall towards your bedroom so he can finish getting dressed. “That was the afternoon we made Evie.”

Your entire body flushes when you think about that afternoon, nearly two years ago now. He’s probably not wrong, but there’s never been a way to prove it. And honestly, if Evie is the reward from the dressing down Andrei had to take, then you’d both do it all over again.

“We’ve made it almost two years without incident,” you recover. “Let’s keep the streak going.”

“Whatever you say, solnyshka,” he says, finishing the buttons on his shirt and making quick work of his tie. You reach up to straighten the knot and caress his neck and shoulders when you’re done.

You lean up to kiss him again and murmur, “break a skate, Drei.”

He winks at you, “get stretching while I’m gone.”

You snort a laugh and he looks delighted with himself as he grabs his bag, phone, wallet, and keys. He shoves his wallet and phone in his pants’ pocket and you can’t help but watch the fabric strain. Andrei and his tight-ass pants is a duo you’re never, ever going to get tired of.

He gives you another kiss before he leaves and as soon as his car’s out of the driveway, you spring into action with a quick tidying up of the den and kitchen. If you’re lucky, Evie will be knocked out for at least an hour, which should be perfect timing. you take a quick shower with both the shower door and the bathroom door wide open and the baby monitor on full volume on the counter, just in case Evie wakes up. She doesn’t, luckily, giving you time to blow dry your hair and put on a little make-up.

You’re making an early dinner for yourself and packing some snacks into the diaper bag for Evie when the monitor crackles to life and you catch sight of your daughter wiggling around in her crib. She’s still quiet and seemingly content to entertain herself, so you take the opportunity to shove the sandwich into your mouth and finish packing the diaper bag. By the time you’ve drained a glass of water, Evie’s fully awake and calling out for mama.

“Hi, my little Evie-bug,” you coo, entering the nursery. Evie’s on her feet, holding onto the railing and bouncing, looking just like Andrei. “Are you ready to surprise Dada?”

“Dada!” she squeals, nearly clocking her head on your chin when she bounces up and you duck down to lift her out of the crib. You wince at the close call and snuggle her close, peppering kisses all over her face to get the baby laughing. She giggles wildly, the sound music to your ears, and buries her face in your neck, snuggling you back.

“Yep!” You grin, dancing her over to the changing table. “We’re going to surprise Dada. He’s going to be so excited to see you.” As you change her diaper and get her dressed in the teeny Canes jersey (#37 of course, with DADDY spelled out across her shoulders, you nearly cried when Elena bought it as a gift after you announced your pregnancy) and a pair of warm leggings, you keep up a running commentary of what you’re doing. While you were pregnant, you read that constantly talking to babies helps them develop a strong vocabulary, so that’s what you do with Evie. You pull a little pair of Ugg boots over her feet and hold her hands so she’s standing on top of the changing table. Evie shouts nonsense to you and you nod, agreeing. “Exactly, you look so good in Canes’ red, my little bunny.”

You set her down on the floor of your room so you can change too - a pair of ripped jeans and a Svechnikov shirsey under a leather jacket, since you’ll need to be able to move easily when dealing with Evie. You grab the diaper bag, which is doubling as your purse tonight and head out, grateful that Evie doesn’t fight getting into her car seat like usual. She’s got one hand wrapped tightly around the Stormy plush that had been in the gift basket from the team when she was born. Stormy’s looking a little worse for the wear lately, grubby and well-loved. Before you get on the road, you make sure to text Andrei with your usual pre-game message at the normal, pre-warmup time (a red heart, a white heart, a black heart, and the tornado emoji) so he doesn’t get suspicious. He shoots back a string of incomprehensible emojis in reply - also part of the usual pre-game routine - but follows that up with approximately twenty five eggplant emojis, which makes you laugh loudly.

Traffic is on your side, even though it’s a Friday night in early-April in Raleigh, and you make it to PNC in, if not record time, then at least plenty of time to park and get down to the ice before warm-ups start. You and Evie slip into the arena from the back and head off to the family room, a perk you’re never going to get tired of. Since it’s Friday, there’s plenty of other families at the game and you say hi to everyone, passing Evie along to the moms with older kids who take any chance to get their hands on a baby that they can return. Evie loves the attention, showing off with the few words she knows and giving you a chance to set the diaper bag down in the corner and take off your jacket.

It’s less than five minutes to the start of warm-ups, so you take a final bite of a pretzel and gather Evie up in your arms to bring her to the glass. Heather Staal settles a pair of giant red headphones over her ears and grins at Evie, “better safe than sorry, Evie.” She nudges your hip and heads out after her own kids, strolling along with the confidence of nearly a decade of motherhood. You can only hope to be as chill of a mom one day. But for now, you hold Evie on your hip and head to the glass, enjoying the way she’s looking all around the arena at the crowds of people and lights. The kids are all pressed up against the glass, dancing along to the music and you grin at the sight. You can’t wait until Evie is old enough to be running around with the rest of them, a little arena kid.

You shift her in your arms as the warm-up music begins and the visiting team - the New York Islanders - step onto the ice. Evie’s back is against your chest, supported under her butt with one arm and around the stomach by the other. She kids her legs out, Stormy clutched in one hand. Pyotr leads your boys out and then the ice is a swirl of red, white, and black. You keep your gaze trained on the ice for Andrei and watch him take a half lap, spotting the exact moment he sees you and Evie.

Even with part of his face blocked by his helmet and visor, his eyes light up and his entire face is transformed with a huge smile, all dimples and teeth. You grin back at him and bounce a little, getting Evie excited. He skates over to the glass quickly and stops with a spray of ice. It’s too loud to really hear him, but you can see his mouth form the syllables of Evie’s nickname - zaychik - little rabbit, for the way her nose had twitched when she slept as an infant. His smile is so wide you can see the spot where is tooth is missing. You use the arm wrapped around Evie’s stomach to wave her hand at him and she takes over from there, kicking her legs and waving wildly, babbling for Dada.

Andrei flattens his gloved hand against the glass, tapping gently, and you lift Evie so her feet are on the top of the boards and she can pat his hand through the glass. “Say hi to Dada,” you grin, getting emotional from Andrei’s reaction. She squeals and kicks at the glass and Andrei’s eyes look suspiciously misty.

Some of the guys skate around, waving to their own kids and they jostle Andrei, clearly teasing him a little. It’s the first time you’ve brought Evie to a game and Andrei’s definitely surprised about it. He blows you both a kiss and skates back into the middle of the ice, having to warm up before the game. Even still, you can tell his attention is on you and Evie, who’s now wiggling in your arms and trying to escape. You laugh a little and set her on her feet, still holding one of her hands to keep her upright. The older kids converge around her, delighted by how much she laughs and giggles at their antics. It’s so nice to have such a solid community with the other wives and girlfriends.

Warm-ups come to an end, but not before Andrei skates over to the corner again and taps in the glass. You hoist Evie onto your hip and she waves Stormy at him. “Say ‘good luck, Dada,’” you prompt her and she just grins more, giggling when Andrei blows her another kiss. She tucks her face into your neck when he skates off and says, “Dada,” in

a cute little voice. She chews on Stormy’s ear as you head back to the Family room and is content to curl up on your lap while the game starts.

Andrei has a zip in his skates immediately off the jump and sets Aho up with a nice pass, immediately putting the Canes up by one just thirty-five seconds into the game. On the screen, you can see him celebrate, holding up one finger to the sky - a message you know is for you and is confirmed less than ten minutes later when he holds up two fingers as he picks up a secondary assist.

He’s such a menace.

Evie makes it to the end of the first before she throws a tantrum and you know that’s your cue to leave. She fights you all the way to the car, but passes out before you even leave the parking garage, head lolled to the side and soft baby snores filling the backseat.

She transfers terribly when she’s with you, so you just take off her little boots and put her in the crib with the leggings and jersey on, knowing you can change her if and when she wakes up later. You change into sweats and curl up on the couch with the baby monitor to watch the end of the game and scroll social media. The team’s account posted a photo of Andrei and Evie grinning at each other, the corner of your own smile visible on the side of the shot. You screenshot the picture to have for yourself and repost the picture to your stories, tagging Andrei, the team, and writing ‘daddy’s biggest fan’ with a heart-eyes emoji.

You doze off a bit during the second and intermission, but wake up in time to see Andrei score what turns out to be the game-winner halfway through the third. By your count, he’s at a four-point night, tallying a primary assist on a goal during the second. He clearly can count too, because this celly involves holding four fingers up in the air. You shake your head a little. “Whatever gets you going,” you mumble to yourself. Evie calls out for you on the monitor and you head back upstairs to change her into pajamas and give her a cuddle back to sleep. She passes out within minutes, deadweight in your arms and looking incredibly like Andrei while she sleeps. Her eye shape and lips are exactly his, with a teeny little dimple in her right cheek. You trace your index finger lightly over the slope of her little nose, the one thing she inherited from you. She makes a soft little noise and smacks her lips, just like she had when she was a newborn. Honestly, you really can’t believe how blessed you are to be sitting here with your daughter while your husband gets to live his dream in the NHL. Whenever you think about Andrei’s journey, it makes you a little teary-eyed.

You’re just glad you get to be by his side during it.

Later, after Evie’s solidly asleep and back in her crib, you crawl into bed, exhausted from the day. The post-game is airing, but you know Andrei’s already on his way home. Should arrive any minute based on his text as he was leaving the arena - just a simple ‘I love you.’ Sure enough, you can hear the front door open a few minutes later and then all at once, Andrei is in your room, a stupid grin on his face.

“You really surprised me,” he says, leaning against the doorframe.

You beam at him, taking in his damp hair and slightly disheveled suit. “That was the plan, Mister Svechnikov. I’m glad it worked.”

“Evie in that little jersey,” he trails off, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You, her, hockey.”

“You deserve it all and more,” you say softly, sitting up and crossing your legs pretzel-style. Raising an eyebrow at him, you continue, “and a four-point night, on top of it all.”

Andrei loosens the knot of his tie and shakes his head. “Solnyshka, I don’t care about new positions.” His voice lowers and his eyes turn molten. “I only want the position that will put another baby in you. I want another baby, let me give you one.”

“Oh,” you gasp, feeling warm all over. Andrei very deliberately takes his tie and jacket off, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up his forearms. You love his forearms.

“Will you let me put a baby in you?” He asks, coming over to your side of the bed and cupping your face in both hands. His palms are warm and a little calloused. His eyes are dark and you nod up at him, a hand already drifting under the covers and under the waistband of your sweats.

He grins, puppy-dog enthusiasm underneath the desire in his tone. He dips you back and kisses you, hot and hard and oh boy, you’ll give this man as many babies as he wants. His hand curls around the back of your neck and tongue sweeps over your lower lip. You lock your hands around his neck, holding on for dear life. Andrei’s knee comes up to rest on the mattress, dipping under his weight and you slip further down on the mattress, hooking one leg around his hip. Just as his hand slides down your side and up under your shirt, the baby monitor crackles and Evie’s little voice breaks through the haze of lust enveloping the both of you. Andrei pulls back, blinking, and shakes his head. “I’ll get her,” he says hoarsely, kissing your forehead before heading off to the nursery.

Still dazed, you climb out of bed to join him, eager for another hit of Andrei as a dad. He’s got Evie in his arms when you get to the nursery, her cheek against his shoulder and if you thought seeing him hold her shirtless earlier, it’s got nothing on the gut-punch to the ovary that is seeing him hold her while in a button down with rolled up sleeves.

You linger in the doorway while he sings softly, and a little off key, swaying in place. He doesn’t realize that you’re there - he can’t, otherwise he wouldn’t whisper, “do you want to be a big sister, zaychik? A little brother or sister? I think Mama will let us give you that. A best friend for you, like I have Uncle Geno?”

Evie blinks sleepily in his arms, mumbling for Dada, which Andrei takes to be a yes. He laughs quietly. “Mama and I will work on it,” he kisses the top of her head and you back slowly from the room, giving Andrei his time with Evie.

He turns before you can get very far and spots you, not surprised in the slightest. With his free hand, he gestures you forward and opens his arm for you to step in. You tuck yourself up against his side and he kisses the crown of your head while you sway to lull Evie back to sleep. The little girl reaches her hand out for you and you hold your fingers out for her to grab. She sighs contentedly and you stroke your thumb over her soft skin.

“Give me a whole hockey team’s roster of these little mini-yous,” you whisper up to Andrei.

“As many as you want,” he promises seriously, eyes twinkling.

[concerningwolves]

Hey! Do you have any tips for breaking writers block when you're adhd and/or autistic? Be it your own tips or a link to another post? My friend and I need help haha

Ahh sorry you got buried under spam and old ask game asks. (I... really need to sort my ask box >.<' ). But here we go, a month late, and hopefully better late than never:

Quick ideas for beating writer's block when autistic and/or ADHD

I've got this old post I wrote on writer's block and focus troubles. Ironically, this was before my autism diagnosis but the tips still happen to be things I, an autistic person, did to manage writing when faced with executive dysfunction (except I didn't know what executive dysfunction was at that point lol). I'm linking this with one important caveat, though: if you have ADHD, "stepping away" might do more harm than good; struggling to start tasks is a Big Thing with ADHD, so not starting the task at all is entirely counterproductive. (Unless you're in burnout! Here's a post about the differences between block and burnout with some ideas on what to do for each, in case that's at all helpful to you).

And here's something yoinked from another old ask-answer:

sometimes a break from more “serious” writing is what you need. Maybe try and take the characters from your main project and drop them somewhere else for the hell of it. I like to throw my characters into the MCU without warning like “lmao have fun in a strange modern world where there are gods and a guy in an iron flying suit bye.” Or, if fandom cross-overs aren’t your thing, find a writing prompt or take an idea you like and use it to form a short story with your characters instead.

Some other ideas I've seen around for writer's block with ADHD/Autism are:

Try voice recording or text to speech (i.e., absolute stream-of-consciousness unfiltered brain-to-mouth, giving yourself permission to 100% bullshit if you like, and see what rattles loose in the brain box)

Stream of consciousness writing in general, not even necessarily about a particular prompt or particular project. This one can be done in combination with:

Writing sprints! One minute timers, two minute timers, five minutes – set it for as long as you want, but when you're fighting executive dysfunction and/or difficulty focusing, the burst of urgency that comes from a shorter timer is very helpful.

And speaking of the sense of urgency: gamify your writing! There are different ways to do this, with varying elements of risk. I'll link some ways to do this at the end under "resources".

Exercise. I don't necessarily mean hitting the gym, but a quick burst of exercise prior to writing to get the heart rate up can help wake your brain up a bit. (Or, if you find repetitive exercise mind-numbingly boring like I do, the writing sure does start to look appealing lol).

Meditation. Okay, this one is sort of 🤔 for me, because I do often hear from fellow autistics and our ADHD cousins that meditation is literally impossible for us. It is for me. But! Like with exercise above, if meditation bores you instead of helping relax and ""clear your mind"", you can probably use that boredom to your advantage. Or, it might work as intended.

Change your workspace/situation/routine. Sometimes the problem is that you need new sensory input, or that your brain has gotten thoroughly bored and decided not to tell you. Use a different chair. Move to the kitchen table. Write at a different time of day. Have a different snack (or try having a snack while writing...). Basically, look at what you're currently trying, and see how you can do it differently.

It's also really good practise to get comfortable with Being Bad At Writing. Perfectionism and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria are the biggest, meanest brain weasels with the sharpest teeth. Don't let them bully you. It sucks. It takes a lot of time and effort and internal work, which is why I was loathe to include this on a post of quick solutions, but. It is important.

And getting comfortable with this doesn't necessarily mean learning how to accept critique, or accepting that sometimes you'll write things that suck. It means accepting that sometimes you won't handle critique or feedback well, and also accepting that you won't always manage to beat the writer's block or be productive. Sometimes you have to make peace with the fact that you're going to feel horrible, feel your feelings, and try to remind yourself on the other side that none of it means you're a talentless hack.

Resources

Anything with a 🪙 next to it is paid only (I've tried to limit these and find alternatives).

The resources are split into things that "gameify" writing (i.e., hack your dopamine/serotonin in ways that reaaaaallly help autistic and ADHD folks), writing programs that are designed to help you focus, writing programs that track your habits and appeal to the "ohhhh numbers going up" brain, focus-aiding apps, and some miscellaneous stuff. Under the cut to save your dashes.

"Gamifying" your writing:

The Most Dangerous Writing App – You can't stop typing before your set timer runs out, or you risk losing your work. Excellent for warming up, stream-of-consciousness, or if you're feeling reckless, working on your actual project. I did a lot of the second draft of When Dealing with Wolves on this thing (it was terrifying yet highly effective).

Written? Kitten! – Get rewarded for meeting your set writing wordcount with kitten pictures. Haven't used this one personally, but heard wonderful things about it.

4TheWords 🪙 – This one gamifies writing in the most literal sense. As in, it's an online game where you defeat monsters, explore and level up by writing words. I did the free trial a couple years back, and I've heard there are a lot of different ways you can lower the subscription cost. The only reason I haven't gone back to it is because I feel like I can't justify spending money on it when I'm doing fine with Scrivener and free resources, but maybe one day I will purely for the fun factor...

StimuWrite – similar idea to Written Kitten; the app provides visual/audio stimulation while you write, which is great for many ADHD-ers and autistics. There's a progress bar, soundscape options, typing effects and emoji reactions as rewards, among other features.

Write or Die – This is The Most Dangerous Writing App meets Written Kitten. As far as I can figure out, the basic web version is free to use; you can set the parameters like how how long you want to write for, how many words to reach, and whether you want rewards for meeting goals or punishments for failing to meet them. There's also a stimulus mode, where the nice auditory stimulus goes away if you stop writing.

Minimalist/Focus writing programs:

Focus Writer [Windows] – thoroughly stripped-down minimalist word processor. As far as I know, it has basic functions like find-replace, but mostly it's designed only for writing. Not for formatting, spellchecking or editing.

iA Writer 🪙 [iOS] – Similar to Focus Writer, it's designed to fill your screen with a simple workspace. Allows you to use markdown formatting, and has a feature called Focus Mode that blurs out everything except the sentence you're typing. (If I could find a Windows-friendly alternative to this with that same feature I would be so happy). A cheaper alternative is 1Writer, but that doesn't have the focus mode.

Typewrite Something – Absolutely bare minimum web-based typewriter simulator. Basically just a blank screen that you start typing on, and the words appear in a typewriter font. Great for stream-of-consciousness without the risk level of TMDWA because you can't backspace. If you don't like the clacky sound, turn off your volume.

Focus Apps

Cold Turkey – Block applications and websites on your laptop/computer for a specified period of time. You can even block the entire internet.

Forest – Similar to Cold Turkey in that it stops you from seeking distractions or getting distracted. Set a timer and the app starts growing a tree. If you leave the app, the tree dies. Once you have a tree, you add it to your forest.

Habit-building writing programs:

Novlr – Simple, minimal layout, and tracks your writing goals per month and day, and your daily streak. There are more features in the plus and pro versions, and you can only have five projects in the free version, but otherwise it looks like a good free alternative to the next two programs:

750 Words 🪙 – Made for free writing, but also very useful for drafting. I had it for a month or so a while back on the free trial. It tracks writing streaks and gives you fun graphs and statistics at the end of each session, including number of distractions, actual typing time vs total time and average words per minute. Also, it analyses the mood of what you wrote, which I always found delightful.

Writing Analytics 🪙 – If writing streaks, badges and analytical graphs get your dopamine going, then I really recommend this one. The writing screen itself is very minimalistic, but it still shows your writing speed (I loved watching that go up) and your goal progress. In terms of analytics, it tracks a LOT of different things, including time spent writing vs revising, average wordcounts per day/month/year, and words written vs words deleted. I used this for about a year before I switched to Scrivener, and the switch was purely because I needed something that wasn't subscription-based. (Apparently since I stopped using it there's also a new feature that lets you create private writing rooms and see other writer's progress).

Misc.

WriteTrack – Not a word processor, but it has very good tools for tracking and planning your writing. Again, if graphs going up helps your brain, this is excellent, but you can't see it in real time.

10 ADHD-friendly brain tricks for writers – what it says on the tin: ten tips for writers with ADHD; I'm particularly fond of "Put away one knife", which breaks the nebulous task of "start writing" into something really simple like just... pull out your desk chair.

[newtthetranswriter]

yo! could I request Freed Justine with an S/O (male) who often by accident clings on him a lot? oh yeah, S/O’s taller too lol (headcanons preferably)

A/n: I first want to say I am deeply sorry for not answering this sooner, ADHD was just kicking my ass and on top of that I had some pretty bad writer's block. Hopefully I'll be able to answer more the requests I have soon but I will be taking it slow so I don't over whelm my self. Anyways I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Freed Justine with a Tall Clingy S/o:

Ok so we all know Freed himself is clingy AF, so I don't see him having much of a problem with it if his boyfriend is the same way

I mean at the start of the relationship he'll definitely be blushing like crazy anytime you cling on to him, whether that's wrapping an arm around his shoulders or just sitting super close

But over time he will get used to it and even expect it, so when you are hanging with the thunder legion and you pull him close to you and rest your head on his, he just lets it happen

Bickslow will make jokes about it to try and get on the rune mage's nerves but he's used to his friends teasing and just ignores it

Though there is a couple of times that can get Freed flustered from how clingy you are

First one is if there is serious meeting happening at the guild

For example during the selection meeting for the S-class trail, if you cling onto him and congratulate him for being chosen he will blush a little more than normal

The second case where he will get flustered is if it's in public, such as on a job or at the grand magic games

If you lean on him while you are meeting with the clients of the job, he will be fighting of a bright blush

Now he will also try and make you flustered

as previously stated Freed is also clingy so expect that if he catches you slacking, he will cling onto you

Arms around your waist, head on your shoulder, basically anything he can think of to keep you close to him

If that doesn't fluster you he will risk embarrassing himself by sitting in your lap while you guys talk with the thunder legion, or hang on your back while you walk around town

Honestly it eventually just becomes a running joke that you are both just trying to see who can get the other to blush more

All in all, Freed doesn't mind that your clingy because that just proves you care about him

[strawberryfairi]

Hello, you haven't updated Hanma's fic for a long time, why?🤧

Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, lots of denial, angst, sneaky link, lots of cheating, mutual pining, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

w.c: 4.6k💠 Released: March 13, 2024

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NOTE: I'm so utterly sorry for how long it's taken to post this next chapter. The writer's block I've been going through has been absolutely INSANE! But thank y'all for bearing with me and here goes chapter 5. I wanted to make this chapter as spicy/exciting yet non cringe as possible so hopefully I was able to cook.

C.W: Heavy smut, p in v, deep throating, lots of begging

5; SIN 罪

"I-I-..what are you doing?" You stutter completely flustered.

"Just tellin' you what's on my mind." He shrugs plainly, a smug grin on his face.

"Well stop. I didn't ask what you were thinking." You shoot back with as much sassiness as you could muster, trying to regain your composure. Hanma laughs lightly, a surprisingly cute laugh that almost makes you smile too.

"You trynna boss me around in my own place?" He raises a teasing brow.

"Yeah, when you're doin' things you're not supposed to." You clap back.

"Aaw, but you like it. You like it so much you're soakin' wet right now." He murmurs right by your left ear.

Once again you went speechless, feeling trapped because he was right. There was no point in trying to lie about this one. "I know you wanna try to act like you went and just forgot about what we did, but we both know you wanna finish what we started just as much as I do." He says, looking you dead in the eyes.

"I don't.." You trail off.

"Don't act like you don't think about it, about me stretching this little pussy out-

"Stop!"

"-About making you cum over and over again."

"Please don't! Don't do this!" You whimper anxiously, looking down to the floor in an overwhelming blend of emotions. He chuckles mischievously, lifting your head up once again to look him in the eyes. "You know what I think about? I imagine the look on your face when you're fucked out way passed your limit, your cute little legs shaking while you cry to me about it being too much. Uuugh, and I think about you on yours knees for me, letting me teach you how to use that pretty throat when you suck my dick." He runs his tongue across his bottom lip lewdly, that sultry tone in his voice making your pussy gush.

"Don't talk like that." You mumble desperately.

"Come ooon pretty girl. Stop acting like you don't wanna fuck me, like you don't want me to slut you out." He coos, brushing his lips temptingly against your neck. You let out a shaky breath, trying so hard to keep your composure. The way he talks to you like this, so dirty and without a care, it turns you on so ridiculously much.

"I-I'm not acting! We..really can't do this!" You shake your head with your brows furrowed, you're so conflicted.

"We can, baby. We can do it right here on this wall, on the bed...both." He hums, lightly sucking on your neck.

An airy moan slips passed your lips at his words, involuntarily turning your head to give him better access. "Sounds nice doesn't it?" He purrs.

"Wait wait, Kenny's gonna find out! He'll be pissed!" You protest nervously.

"He won't find out." He murmurs against your skin while planting a hickey a few inches above your collarbone. "Yeah he will! H-He'll kill me; and you too." You mutter desperately between moans, grabbing two small fistfuls of his hoodie.

"He's not gonna find out, don't worry. You're safe with me, angel." He assures.

You knew you weren't anywhere close to safe with him. You were teetering on the edge of a cliff, just seconds from plummeting into an unforgiving pit of fire. Your resolve and faithfulness is a complete joke now, as thoughts of Ken seem to dissolve from the forefront of your mind with each passing second. But damn, it'd be a lie to say you didn't love it. It's so wrong, but the idea of finally having sex with Hanma makes your heart flutter in your chest like crazy. All those days you'd spent fantasizing and dreaming about what he'd feel like deep inside you-fuuuck, you could barely keep it together anymore. Your body practically craved him, begging and screaming for him to throw you on that huge bed and do whatever the hell he wanted to you. 'Cause quite honestly, a part of you would gladly let him.

Before you could respond, he leans away from your neck, grabbing the back of your thighs and picking you up. You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck as he sets your back against the cold wall next to the doorway.

Uuugh, he's gonna get you in so much trouble!

But to be honest...fuck it.

Hanma leans in, placing his wickedly sweet lips onto yours to which you gladly meet him halfway. You both moan together, tongues immediately crashing in a needy, sloppy kiss. The kiss is noisy, the sound of your mouths ravaging each other spurring you both on. You pull him impossibly close, placing your right hand on the nape of his neck while the other traces all along the muscles of his shoulder and chest over his hoodie.

His hands squeeze your thighs as he presses his hardening dick right against your aching, clothed pussy. Then he pulls away from your lips, his honey brown eyes on fire with lust. "Before I rip this little outfit off'a you, I want you to tell me you want me." He says breathily against your lips. He didn't have to tell you twice...

"I want you! I'm not supposed to, but I-I want you so bad! It hurts how bad I need it." You admit instantly, your face burning up with embarrassment at how pitiful and desperate you sounded.

"Hmmm, I don't think I'm too convinced by that, sweetheart. Y'sure you won't just try to forget again?" He tilts his head to the side, shifting his hands to grab your ass and grind against your pussy. You moan from the delicious friction he gave you, answering him frantically.

"No no, I won't forget! I didn't forget before either; I promise!" You respond frantically, shaking your head.

"Oh? But earlier you said you couldn't remember. Which is it-

"I was just lying! I was embarrassed 'cause I was trying not to want you this whole time." You whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I mean it. I really want you." You add softly. He looks into your eyes for a second, before giving you another toe curling kiss. You feel the coolness of the wall leave your back as he walks you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with you in his lap. Then, he pulls away, shifting you around so you were lying in his lap on your stomach.

"What are you doi-

You cut yourself off with a loud cry, feeling a sting on your right ass cheek. You gasp in shock, trying to turn and look over at him. No he did not just smack your ass like that!

"Since I'm still not very convinced you won't turn around and tell me we should forget it, I'm gonna make sure I'm all you can think about after this. Got me, angel?"

Your brows furrow slightly in curiosity, yet you nod nonetheless. Abruptly he smacks your ass again, in the same exact spot as before. Your body jumps in response as you yelp again. "You seem to have a thing for not answering me with words, huh? How 'bout you try "yes, daddy"." He suggests smugly.

"Yes..daddy." You murmur shyly, looking to the floor in front of you. You swallow, feeling your face burn up in embarrassment at how much calling him that actually turned you on. A wicked grin makes its way across his lips. "That's perfect." He praises. "You don't mind if I play with you a little, right?" He asks mischievously, making your heart skip a beat.

"No daddy, I don't mind." You shake your head, biting your lip excitedly. "Good girl, you learn fast." His tatted hands grip and massage your ass, fingers slightly grazing against your pussy every now and then. Your hips start moving by themselves, trying to find any kind of friction to ease the growing achiness between your legs. Another smack onto your ass makes you cry out, halting your movements instantly. "Stay still." He commands sternly, smacking your ass four more times. You jump and whimper with each slap, trying to keep yourself as still as possible. 

Your whimpers turn into full out moans as he continues, his right hand finally rubbing your needy pussy, while the other firmly grips your ass. "Still want me, doll?" He murmurs.

"Yes! Yes daddy; I want you so bad!" You whine desperately, unconsciously grinding your hips back and forth on his hand. He moves his hand, making you pout, then shifts your teddy to the side. The cool air against your core gives you goosebumps all over. "Mm, look at this pretty pussy; goddamn." He hums, slipping his ring and middle finger between your folds, making you whimper from his touch. "So fuckin' wet." He whispers, watching you moan and squirm in his lap.

"Remember when I made you cum on my fingers?" He asks sensually, prodding around your needy entrance. "Yes daddy. Please do it again!" You beg, tilting your ass up. His left hand smacks your ass again. One, two, three times. He grips your right cheek, spreading you open and giving him the perfect view of his fingers on your pussy. Finally he slides his long fingers all the way in, making you gasp deeply, nearly seeing stars. You squirm around, trying to find something to hold on to.

"Ooooh! Fuck fuck fuck!" You holler, squeezing your eyes closed as he fingers you fast and deep. Your breathing turns into labored pants, failing miserably at keeping still. His fingers make your pussy talk, gushing and squelching with every pump. His free hand lays down rough slaps to each cheek, going back and forth. "Yes yeess!" You repeat like a mantra. Your legs start shaking, the mix of pleasure and stinging pain driving you straight into your first orgasm. "If you wanna cum, you'd better ask first." He says sternly, nearly making your eyes roll back.

"Ca-can I cum please, daddy?! I can't-..." You whimper, feeling yourself getting closer. Your hands ball into fists, unable wait for his answer, you're too close.

Then...he stopped.

You blink a few times, trying to process what just happened. His fingers pull out of you, and go back to gripping your ass along with his other hand.

"Why'd you stop?!" Your question comes out whiny and a highly annoyed. He definitely knew you were seconds from cumming. "I thought you didn't mind if I played with you?" He teases, squeezing and rubbing circles on your ass. You were speechless. You've never been denied an orgasm before, ever. It felt terrible, like you were just ripped out of an amazing dream. It felt even worse since he clearly enjoyed doing that to you.

"Aaaw, you didn't like that, babydoll?" He giggles (yes, giggles), his tone faking innocence.

"No..." You grit out lowly. You'd be glaring at him if you weren't facing away from him.

"Daddy's sorry. I'll let you cum this time." He assures soothingly, slipping his hand down to rub circles on your clit. You let out a blissful moan, instantly forgetting about your denied orgasm. He smacks your ass hard, just as he goes and slides his two fingers inside you again. "Mmmmm." You bite your lip, determined this time to get off. He slides his fingers in and out slowly, so slowly actually that it was getting rather annoying.

"Go faster." You whimper, moving your hips back. You jump, feeling a particularly hard smack against your left cheek. It stung so bad. "OW!"

"Stop moving." Is all he says, continuing with that same miserable ass pace. You whine, forcing your hips still as you take what he gives. This is absolutely not what you thought he meant when he said he wanted to play with you. This isn't playing, this is torture. "Pleaaase, go faster!" You beg desperately, tears nearly forming in your eyes. His strokes were so shallow, and slow, it felt good but you needed more badly. You needed him much deeper. He takes out his fingers with a little pop sound, much to your dismay, and spreads your wetness around your clit. "Noooo, I need more! Daddy please! I can't do this!" You sob defeatedly.

"Yes you can, baby." He coos softly, rubbing your entrance with his thumb. "I caaan't!" You whine, hips just slightly moving. He stops you with another hard smack, you mewl, feeling the tears trying to fall from your eyes.

"Look at you cryin' for me." He grins, a wicked laugh leaving his lips. You pout with a defeated groan, only amusing him further. He had you right where he wanted you. "I wanna cum so bad; I need you. Please daddy, pleaaaase." You beg exasperatedly. He moans, running his two fingers up and down your folds, then abruptly slides them back inside. "Uuughh!" You moan loudly, keeping still as he pushes them all the way in. He sets a pace, deep, and much faster than before. "That feel better, angel?" He murmurs sensually. "Uh huh! Uh huh!" You moan breathlessly, frantically nodding your head up and down. "Say thank you daddy." He commands, upping the pace further.

"Th-thank you daddy, thank you, thank you!" You repeat over and over, starting to shake all over again. His other hand smacks and squeezes your ass cheek, turning you on like crazy. You start panting, your orgasm hitting you out of nowhere. "Ooh fuck! Can I cum-oh my god-c-can I cum, daddy?!" You ask wildly, legs trembling even worse than before. "Hmmm, nah." He says, pulling his fingers out. "Nooo! Don't stop, don't sto-

He silences you with a hard smack on your ass, making you whimper and whine, the tears already fully streaming down your cheeks. He chuckles evilly, lifting you up and placing you on the floor on your knees in front of him. You look up at him wearily with a frustrated pout.

"I wanna see how you look with your mouth full of my dick. Then I promise I'll let you cum." Your expression immediately shifts, eyes sparkling in nervous excitement, watching him stand over you and pull his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs forward, nearly slapping against his stomach. He's huge, the length and width intimidating you as you wonder how you're gonna go about fitting all this in your mouth.

You opt for what seemed obvious to you, running your tongue and lips all over his shaft, then use your hands to stroke the base. Your mouth wraps around his tip, leaning forward and taking as much of him in as you could, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head back and forth. You set a pace for yourself, using your tongue to swirl around the tip as your hands help you with the rest.

"Not like that, baby." He says softly, cupping your face with his hands to stop you. "Don't use your hands."

You wanted to protest that you couldn't go any further with your mouth, but he's already guiding you down his length. Your eyes squeeze closed, hands grasping at his thighs as you gag and sputter on his dick. "That's it, all the way in." He praises, bringing his hips forward. Your mind was working in overdrive trying to figure out how to balance between breathing through your nose and keeping your throat relaxed so you wouldn't choke. This was very new to you, you've never done something like this, really because Ken has never told or asked you to. Hanma's pace is just enough to have your eyes watering, trying desperately to keep up as he uses your throat. He makes it messy, spit bubbling up around your lips and dripping down your chin. For a moment you remember you definitely put mascara on earlier for the shoot, it's highly likely long gone, lost in the tears around your eyes and cheeks.

"Fuuuck, that feels so good." His pleasured moans with the sound of your gagging and spitting blends with the music in the background. It shocked you how much you were enjoying this, your arousal literally flowing down your legs to your mid thighs. You ached so badly for him, but you liked that you were making him feel good like this. Your eyes flutter, feeling him suddenly hold you still, your trembling lips wrapped around the base of him. You sputter hard, struggling not to try and move your head away, lightly digging your nails into his legs.

Finally he pulls away, letting you breathe, coughing a little as you wipe your mouth. He helps you stand, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. "That was perfect, angel." He praised, leaning in and giving you a deep kiss, moving his tongue against yours. You moan, your hands traveling all over his neck and shoulders. Hanma turns towards the bed, throwing you near the pillows. He lifts his hoodie over his head, tossing it to the side before climbing on top of you. He pulls the string of your halter and helps you out of your teddy, leaving you in just your thigh high, white lace stockings.

"You're not gettin' any second thoughts about this, are you? 'Cause I can't stop now." He purrs, trailing kisses all along your neck and jawline. "Not at all." You shake your head, bringing him back up for another kiss. His right hand reaches between the two of you, lining himself up with your entrance and skillfully easing inside you.

He moans against your lips as you whimper loudly, basking in the feeling of stretching you out. You tense up instantly, gripping his shoulders while you pull away from the kiss, gasping at how he's already bullying his way past the entrance of your tight walls. Once just a little more than the tip of him is all the way in, your hands reach for his hips, trying to keep him from moving any further as your brows furrow tightly together. "Wait, wait..." You mutter shakily.

"You gonna give me this pussy, pretty girl?" He asks sensually, placing your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half. "Ahh!" You gasp, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. He reaches between you two, using his thumb and running circles over your clit, helping him go even further. "Too much. Wait...'s too much!" You struggle to speak. The deeper he went the more full you felt, practically seeing stars and other galaxies as he kept going.

"You don't know what too much is." Hanma teases. He pulls out just a bit, then rolls his hips forward, burying himself all the way inside you. "Oooh!" Your voice shook and cracked a bit as you mewled, squirming a little underneath him as your toes curled. Your walls clench onto him so tightly, barely even making space for him yet he continues anyway, your pussy squelching loudly with his long thrusts. "Oh my gooood." You moan lowly, throwing your head back in ecstasy, the discomfort finally slipping away. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing heavily while he sets the most perfect pace.

"Shit, you feel me deep in this pussy, angel?" He asks, putting his hand right on your stomach, pressing down a little. Your breath catches in your throat, his hand on your stomach making you feel his big dick dragging back and forth in your walls even more. Both of your hands struggle to settle on where to rest, going from gripping his shoulders, to the sheets, his arms, his back. "Fuuuck! Yes, daddy!" You moan, your legs already trembling. Both of your gaze's meet, looking at each other with eyes completely clouded over with lust. He looks so damn good over you, his earring slightly swaying, and his muscles tensing and contracting with each movement he makes. Leaning himself up off of you, he uses the back of your knees to keep you pinned down, picking up the pace as his thrusts become harder.

Instantly your hands settle on gripping the sheets, crying out loudly, and arching your back off the bed. Your legs fight with his hands, testing his grip as they squirm and wriggle around aimlessly. Since he had edged you so much earlier, you're even more sensitive than usual. "I'm-I'm gonna c-cum!" You whimper in a high pitch, squeezing your eyes closed as your feel yourself quickly colliding with your first orgasm. Hanma lets go of one your legs, wrapping his hand around your neck, choking you while pounding his hips into you harder. "Yes daddy, yes, uugh shhiiit!" You cry out loudly, the feeling of his hand gripping your throat only making your pussy clench around him harder.

"Look at me when you cum, I wanna see those pretty eyes." He commands, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every single little thing. Your walls flutter wildly as you try to keep your eyes open, coating his length with a sloppy mix of cum and your cream.

Nothing but high pitched ah's and mewls leave your lips, feeling your whole body shake and twitch hard from the intensity of your orgasm. He was making it last longer, keeping that same perfect pace and angle that has him hitting so deep. "Mmm, so fuckin' sexy." He hums, watching your eyes roll back.

He slows to a stop as you finally come down from your orgasm, panting heavily as he lets go of your throat. Flipping you over he lifts you up by your hips, face down ass up. His hands run along your ass then up your back, making you moan softly as a sensual shiver runs down your spine from his touch. Leaning up, he slips back inside you, letting out a deep groan as his hands grip your hips tightly. His strokes are so long, hard, and deep, roughly hitting against your g-spot every single time.

"Oh my god, fuck! Yes yes!" You cry out loudly, gripping the sheets and pulling. "You look so good takin' this dick, angel. How's it feel?" He purrs lowly, breathing heavier as he pounds you from the back. "S-so gooood! 'S so big daddy!" You whimper, voice shaky from the impact of his hips against your ass. He moans in response, grabbing your ass and smacking each cheek hard. You cry out loudly, feeling your walls clench around him tighter when he did that.

"You're shakin' so much. Gonna cum again?" He murmurs sensually. You can't even respond anymore, nothing but loud moans fly past your lips, as drool from the corner of your mouth drops a bit on the sheets. Another orgasm shoots through your body, cum dripping along his dick and down onto the bed. Hot tears pool around your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. Hanma doesn't bother to let you ride it out slowly, he keeps his thrusts steady and hard, forcing a second orgasm right on top of the previous one. You literally scream, your body quickly being overwhelmed by the intensity. "Damn, you're cummin' back to back for me, baby?" He moans deeply.

"I-I caaan't! Please..." You shudder so violently, your voice shook with every word like you were being tased. 

"Can't what?" Hanma teases. 

"S-slow down! Go-..go slower!" You stutter badly, regaining your hands grip on the sheets in front of you and attempting to pull yourself away from his relentless thrusts.

"'S it too much?" He asks innocently, his voice faux comforting. His hands grab onto your wrists, holding them back behind you like reigns as he fucks you rougher. This only made you cry harder, your arms shifting any kind of way to get out of his grip. Something about his thrusts made you feel different. Your pussy was sounding even sloppier now, and you could feel the cord in your core tightening up all over again, but this time much more intensely. You begged and whined for him to slow down or give you just a second to recompose, yet he just encourages you to take it. Your eyes roll back again, feeling yourself starting to really, really lose it.

"Oh my god, I'm cumming!" You announce shakily, loud ah's following shortly after as the cord finally snaps. You feel like you went and blacked out as you screamed, feeling like you just peed on yourself. Hanma made you squirt like a fountain on his dick, your juices trailing down your legs and splashing a bit against your ass as he keeps stroking. "Shit baby, you're makin' such a fuckin' mess. Gonna make me cum already." He groans watching you twitch and cry. His words didn't even register to you, you could only feel as a few moments later he pulls out, cumming right on your ass.

It takes you a second to realize what even happened as you come back to your senses. Your body flops down onto the bed lazily, still shaking violently while you pant. Your body was fried, you couldn't even move, and your mind was so fuzzy. Hanma laid next to you, the two of you breathing heavily together.

Finally you looked over at him, making instant eye contact with each other with the same sex-dazed expression. There's a few seconds of silence between you, nothing but the vibey music still playing in the background.

"That was-.."

The both of you speak at the same time, making each other laugh lightly. "Lemme clean you up." He murmurs, getting up from the bed and heading over to the bathroom. You sigh deeply, wearily scooting up to rest your head on the pillows that smell just like him. Hanma comes back shortly, hovering over you and wiping you down with a warm wash cloth. Chill bumps appear all over your body, the cool air finally starting to get to you now that your body's cooled down.

"Thank you." You mutter, turning your head to look at him. He responds with a kiss, planting his lips onto yours softly. You moan tiredly, placing a hand on his cheek before you pull away. In the few moments of silence, your eyes narrow skeptically as you notice him start grinning rather deviously at you.

"What?" You finally ask.

"Wanna go for round two?" He says excitedly, climbing on top of you.

"What?!" You scoff, looking up at him absolutely dumbfounded. "You heard me." He chuckles, tossing the wash cloth somewhere random while leaning down and planting wet kisses all over your neck. He's really deadass!

"Oh hold on, wait! I-I cannot-

You cut yourself off with a gasp, feeling him place your already exhausted legs over his shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanma's grip on your ass tightens, picking up the pace as he bounces you on his cream coated dick.

"Uugh! Right there, right there! Daddyyyyy, oh my gooood!" You wail, squeezing your eyes closed as you cum for the fourth time in this position. He has you in his arms, both legs hanging over his arms as he lifts you up and down using his grip on your ass, standing near the bed.

You've never been in this position before but it instantly became a top favorite. The way it's just so nasty and loud, your skin slapping against his with every bounce. Then it's the way you're completely at his mercy, completely unable to move or get away. You're nothing but a little cock sleeve in this position, legs dangling in his strong arms as he uses you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, throwing your head back as you feel him bring you into another orgasm.  

"Ah shit, I'm close." He cusses breathily, his grip tightening. Right after you he finally reaches his climax, pulling out and cumming against your achy core. He lays you down on the bed, lazily throwing himself on top of you, soft puffs of air hitting against your neck from his panting. The two of you stay like that for a while, trying to slow your heart rates down while basking in the way the the both of you completely wore each other out. 

Hanma is by far the best you've ever had.

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Thank y'all so much for reading! I really threw my back into this chapter for y'all🥹 It's so encouraging to know that you guys really enjoy my stories and look forward to the next chapters. Feel free to comment any thoughts or inbox me too! I love hearing from y'all!

P.S: Don't worry I'll have Chapter 6 out next week ♡

[that-creature-thing]

Fighting with hella art/writers block but I managed to struggle my way through a Jazz doodle! I'm not 100% happy with it but it's something!

I got something else in mind for Jazz, hopefully soon if I can get over the block! I want to really take my time and produce something awesome ya know? But I have terrible patience lol

[go-river-flows]

Sweet Visions of a flower

Summary: Syulang (OC), an orphaned girl after the destruction of Hometree. She is constanly reminded of this by her amputated left leg though she no longer dreams of her deep trauma. She is betrayed by the very people she trusted, leaving her with nothing once again.

A/N: I had trouble writing this final chapter. The writer's block was damn thick for this final chapter, so I procrastinated it for nearly two weeks (lol). Will not do it again. But as this series is coming to an end, the sequel to WBtAP has just started, and I have written the first And also...Unexpected Ja x reader moment. Because Ja is underrated.

Part 9 of 10

For the following days and weeks, everything became a melting pot. First Mo’at visited Syulang’s dreams, trying to heal her from within, the first few times proved to be a challenge so they moved their attempts to the Tree of Souls, where Mo’at can connect with the pink and purple tendrils, that somehow solved the issue of physically touching Syulang’s dream form and where Mo’at helped Syulang to heal. 

Jake, Tarsem and the warriors worked with Quaritch and his band of recoms to devise a plan to cut off the RDA to their supplies, targeting mines, resource ships, trains, anything that the RDA needs to survive. It would take weeks, possibly months to take everything out, they would need help but Jake was adamant that they would not make another war just like the battle between the Na’vi and the humans fifteen years ago. He didn't want to make the same mistake he did back then, wanting it done a different way, surprisingly Quaritch agreed. The recoms struck a deal with Jake, they would take the RDA down from the inside. The RDA wouldn't suspect their betrayal, hopefully. Jake wanted the warriors to keep it to themselves, not wanting the rest of the clan to worry or panic in any way. Heck, he didn't even tell Neytiri and his kids, trying to shield them from a potential war. Hopefully they wouldn't start a second world war on Pandora. 

The next month Quaritch had built a trust with Jake, much like how Jake built a trust with Quaritch when he was still human, working for the RDA before his betrayal. Jake was slow to show the group of recoms to High Camp, he knew it was a matter of time where he would have to address his clanspeople of his strange alliance. But it was funny to see Quaritch in Na’vi clothing, in fact all the recoms. They look just like actual Na’vi and before they leave to go back to the RDA they change back into their old uniforms. This time was the most difficult for the Omatikaya Clan, they weren't very happy when Jake told them the news and when the recoms finally visited High Camp everyone kept their weapons on them at all times. Tensions were high to say the least, especially with the remaining avatar drivers and scientists – Norm and Doctor Patel included – not particularly happy to see their past colleagues who ended the Avatar Program. Syulang guided a few of the recoms in training and also Na’vi healing and medicine. They were split up into smaller groups: Quaritch, Lyle, Lopez, and Warren joined Jake’s warriors. Ja, Zhang, Walker and Prager were taught na’vi healing. And finally Mansk, Brown and Fike were taught to hunt with other low effort activities – they desperately wanted a break from fighting.

  It took another month before a plan had been set. And within that month things got a bit better. The recoms, under Jake’s guidance completed their Iknimaya training, gaining their ikrans. Syulang spent most of her time with the recoms in the healing tents, one of them getting close to her. Ja, was his name. Kiri and Norm kept her eye on him as per Jake’s request after she saw him staring at her sister for much longer than she liked. Opting to tell Dad, just in case. Some of the tension had alleviated and the clanspeople stopped carrying their weapons everywhere they went, the recoms showed that they could be trusted. 

 Jake was right, Ardmore did look for the recombiants, in fact she looked for weeks and luckily didn't find them, eventually searching elsewhere. So what would happen next, Ardmore wouldn't expect. The recoms gathered together, where their clothes were returned to them. They sat together during the communal meal, which was possibly their last meal together. But instead of mourning their last moments together, they celebrated. Syulang watched them happily, a pair of eyes finding hers. She gave a soft but sad smile in return averting her eyes. 

“Tonight’s they’re last night here,” Jake announced to his family, “we won't know if they’ll survive.”

Syulang looked at her father with a neutral expression, masking a pained look, slightly unsure as to why he would say that. 

“I hope they don't,” Neytiri responded, her anger for the dreamwalkers who tried hurting her children still remained, not fully ready to forgive them. Syulang stood up at that comment, not wanting to hear any more of it, ignoring the looks she got from her family. Leaving HIgh Camp, she went up to her usual spot on another floating island. Sitting down on the edge, she observed the luminescent plants below, listening to the wind. She was alone for a while before a pair of footsteps caught her ear.

Syulang’s POV

Turning around I saw Ja appear through the vegetation. He came closer, looking at the edge, inching forward bit by bit, carefully sitting next to me dangling both his legs over the floating rock. We sat in silence for a bit as I felt eyes on the side of my face, I turned to look at him. Humming in question. He smirked a little cupping his hand over mine, the warmth spread through my body from the simple touch. 

“Be careful tomorrow,” I told him. He leaned forward, our foreheads touching as he inhaled a little taking in my scent. 

“I will,” he said in Na’vi, leaning in a bit more, his lips gently grazing mine before fully connecting. I pulled away a bit.

“Promise me.”  

“I promise,” he leaned forward again feverishly kissing me. Wrapping his hands behind my neck and jaw to stop me from moving. The sound of twigs snapping behind us broke our intimate moment, Ja pulled his knife out it's holster ready to throw it. A few familiar faces poked out of various plants as the guilty expressions of Lo’ak, Kiri, Lyle, Mansk and Prager faded to smug smiles. Those skxawngs. 

“Ohhh~ Someone’s getting some action,” Lyle sang cheekily as the rest stifled giggles. Ja threw his knife at Lyle who thankfully ducked out of the way. Ja gave me one final kiss, pulling away and storming toward the group, picking up his knife as he passed them. 

*

The next day, a large crowd formed around the recoms saying their goodbyes before the group left. Ja found me in the crowd. Giving a final embrace, he handed me a bracelet, it was small and looked slightly rushed but was still beautiful.

“If I don't make it. Nga yawne lu oer,” he cupped my cheeks planting a kiss on my forehead, his hands lingered on my face almost as if he was fighting internally to stay, but he couldn't. He had one final mission. 

“I love you too. Don't die,” I returned his actions, placing both hands on his cheeks planting a kiss on his lips as I couldn't reach his forehead. 

“Ja! Time to go!” Lyle yelled for his comrade. Giving me one final wave. I waved to them all.

“I see you. I see you all!” I shouted to all the recoms, plucking my fingers from my forehead. Their expression shifted to surprise before returning the gesture. Mounting their ikrans, they took off out of HIgh Camp shouting war cries, the clan returned their own war cries. I stayed standing at the entrance for the rest of the day, the rest of the clan went back to their chores but I anxiously awaited their return. 

The recoms had learnt a lot from their long stay. Most, if not all, received their song chords. All their milestones are a unique bead ranging from completing their rites of passages, learning the Na’vi language, learning to hunt or weave or heal, other beads gifted to them by members of the clan, mostly to Mansk whenever he cooks for the clan. Turns out he’s a bit of a cook, as everyone runs to him with their blows and plates. For Ja and I we had identical beads signifying our relationship. I pray to Eywa for his safe return. I no longer had any terrible nightmares or visions after Mo’at dream walked into my nightmares, healing me from within. I anticipate my future and what it holds, accepting whatever is thrown my way. As I'm mulling over what's to come, someone sits beside me. The smell of stewed yerik makes my mouth drool.

“Sister, you weren't at lunch,” Kiri hands me a yomyo lerìk (leaf plate) with the dish, “Don't worry sister. They will return. They’re warriors after all.”

“I pray to Eywa that they succeed in their mission.”

“Did you pray for him?” knowing exactly who she was referring to. 

“Yes. I pray that Ja lives. Because of this…” I showed her the bracelet. She gently runs her four fingers around the beautifully woven bracelet, red beads woven into the design.

“It's beautiful. I hope he comes back too. He’s the only one I can hold a proper conversation and tolerate…” she huffed, glancing at my questioning eyes, “...And because I can see he truly loves you.” She looked at one of my choker necklaces, my hand ran over the middle one, the one that belonged to Rumut. 

“He knows. I told him everything,” remembering the moment clearly, “He apologised too, even though it was a long time ago.” We sat in a comfortable silence as I slowly ate. 

After finishing my food, Kiri stood first ready to head back to our kelku. I followed after her, deliberately taking slow steps to which she rolled her eyes, yanking my arm and speeding toward the family tent. Mum and Dad were talking whilst dad was cleaning his rifle decorated with weaving. Talking about leaving the clan. Stopping when the two of us came within earshot, though it was too late. I heard it all.

“What did you say?” my ear twitched, “Leave the clan? Dad! You can't be serious?” He averted his eyes looking at mum, “Dad, you're joking right?”

“Wait, just listen to what I have to say–” He took a step in our direction.

“Oh, so you're serious?” I scowled, holding back a scoff..

“Syulang, wait just– Quaritch is hard to trust, he could lead them here–”

“If he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already and gone back a hero. But he didn't,” I argued back.

“Please, just listen to me!” Jake raised his voice, “Yes, you're right. But what about the other Recoms? Huh? They could very easily tell Ardmore where we are and I have a clan to protect.”

“Ma Jake,” our mother stepped between us trying to mediate, but it was too late, “Ma Syulang.”

“Why are you saying this? After you let them into our home, trained them. And now you're saying you still don't trust Quaritch? They’re practically part of the clan! What did you think you were doing this whole time?!” I yelled over Neytiri.

“I was keeping an eye on them! Them being here made it easier to keep an eye on them,” Jake yelled at me, pausing for a moment, “I was going to kill them," he confessed, "I was ready to kill them the first time. But then you showed up. And I was ready to kill them the second time. And you showed up again!…How could I kill them in front of you?”

I felt my heart break. Unsure of what to think or say. My adoptive dad wasn't the person who I thought he was. In that instant I wept, unintelligible words spewing out of my lips. Unfiltered. I guess I could never read his mind. Neytiri and Kiri move toward to comfort me, but I snarled at the two of them. A furious rage tore through me.

“What about me? What about me?! Did you think of me as your daughter or someone you needed to keep an eye on?” I spat at Jake. His expression changed to guilt as the pitter-patter of feet slowed close by. Jake didn't say anything which angered me further, that was enough for me. I wailed from the pit of my stomach in disbelief. Neytiri moved closer again, and I hissed viciously at her, my ears pinned fully back to my skull.

“Sister?” Neteyam, Lo’ak and Tuk walked into my peripherals, though I couldn't see through the tears, impairing my vision. 

“You lied to me,” I felt betrayed, “I trusted you, and you– LIED TO ME!” The lot of them flinched at my raised voice. I covered my mouth, I managed to scare myself having never raised my voice in a decade. “Did you ever love me?” my voice cracked.

“My daughter, I've always loved you,” Neytiri approached once again, her eyes wet but I backed away shaking my head.

“I wasn't asking you,” I hissed at Neytiri and felt bad right after, looking at Jake who again didn't say anything, only looking away avoiding eye contact. “I called you father, and I called you mother. How wrong I was,” turning my back on the people whom I called my family, storming away.

“Syulang! Sister!” I could hear the children yell, but I sprinted to my ikran. Mounting her as fast as I could, we flew out of High Camp. 

My hot tears poured down my cheeks, fluttering away as the wind blew on them. My ikran tried to ease the sorrow as we flew. I couldn't help but feel bad for sharing the pain through tsaheylu. My heart ached in pain, the same kind of pain I felt when I lost everything I had. The pain of losing my parents, my friend, my leg and now my own heart. I thought of my home I once built with my own bare hands. Where everything felt like it was going to be alright, but it was also the place where Jake asked me to join his family. And by the time I knew it, my ikran landed on the branch above my old kelku. The place where I once called it my home. I cried once more. How could he do that? How could I let him manipulate me? Why was I too naive to not question everything? How could he do this? Azui chirped, turning her head a little, cocking her head in worry. Her gentle thoughts calmed me enough to dismount her. I flung myself into the tented canopy. Nothing in there. Not my baskets. Not my mat. Not my bow and arrows or water jug. Just nothing. An empty husk of what used to belong to a free child. I curled myself into a ball on the fabric floor. I had nothing again. No home and no family again. Only betting that Ja lives so I could at least have someone to love. 

I didn't want to wait around for the people I once called family to find me. I stripped the fabric off the tree, using my small knife that I kept on me at all times to cut the bindings. Folding the tent together and strapping it onto the back of my ikran, I wiped my eyes, climbed down the tree to the river and washed my face. I called Azui down from the tree branch. Calling for my palulukan who I could smell nearby. She glided down the hill luckily still wearing her pouches, from the last time we went hunting. I checked them to find some bait and rope, the other had unbound arrowheads which was good enough. Deciding to mount my palulukan knowing my ikran would follow, I made tsaheylu with her and asked her to take me away from the Hallelujah mountains, the furthest point north. 

She ran as fast as she possibly could. Feeling her heartbeat, her breath and her strong legs pushing down on the ground, we thundered through the forest. Passing over hills, mountains and rivers for nearly three hours. We came to a strange clearing of trees. Large constructions of the small metal rooms that resided in High Camp ablaze. The last time I had seen such destruction and chaos was when Hometree was destroyed. The red and orange flames engulfed the tall structures. I had to get closer. Urging Lo’a closer to the burning architecture, I could see a blue figure laying somewhat close to the flames. Oh no. Not wanting to burn my palulukan I slid off Lo’a and ran to the Na’vi. The familiar bald head of Lyle was unconscious. Taking a hold under his armpits, I dragged him away from the flames. 

“Lyle!” I turned him around, finding a metal rod in his left leg. “Lyle! Please! Wake up!” I shook his shoulders. I couldn't heal him since I didn't have any healing tools. 

“LYLE?!” my ears perked up at the familiar voice. 

“Prager?!” I screamed back. His figure appeared not too far from where we were.

“Syulang?!” he ran to us, his expression a mix of concern and confusion, “Lyle!”  he knelt down on the other side checking Lyle’s body noting the rod in his leg, he grabbed some strange tool from his vest and cut the material away. I did as told and he tied cloth just above the burning rod. 

“Where is Ja?” I asked him.

“He’s okay. Help me with Lyle,” Prager pulled Lyle’s upper half up from the ground, moving between Lyle’s legs attempting to lift him onto his back.

“Wait,” I called Lo’a, “Let me take him, we can get away faster.” Prager was shocked to see my palulukan, however, he quickly agreed. Getting Lyle onto Lo’a, Prager got on behind him as I slid behind him hoping Lo’a could handle the weight of two extra Na’vi. Making Tsaheylu, I was quickly informed that she could not handle the weight but endured it anyways. “Tell us where to go,” I told Prager, who just pointed in a direction. 

“That way,” was all he said. I urged Lo’a forward in the direction Prager had directed, the heat of the flames diminished slightly and Prager pointed again, a little bit left. We essentially went round the flaming mass. Borrowing Lo’a’s advanced vision I looked over Prager’s large frame and saw a familiar group of Na’vi.

“Colonel!” Prager yelled as we got closer, the faces of the group turned to see him riding a thanator with Lyle in front of him. 

“Prager?!” Ja called over the roaring flames. We slowed and the group approached timidly. “It's okay! It's Syulang,” Prager slid off Lo’a still holding Lyle’s unconscious form. I can finally see the shocked faces of Ja, Quaritch, Lopez, Walker,  Mansk and Z-Dog. Ja acted faster, coming to my side at an instant, wrapping his strong arms around my frame, pulling me off my palulukan and not daring to let go.

“My sweet girl,” Ja mumbled into my neck.

“What's going on? What are you doing here?” Quaritch asked, “Where’s Jake?” I winced at Jake’s name. I hated that name.

“Where is everyone else?” Jake isn't here, he wants to kill you, is what I want to tell them.

“T-they didn't make it. We should get outta here. Everyone with me,” Quaritch led the group away. I looked into the red flames distraught. Those who weren't here; Zhang, Fike, Warren and Brown had perished in the flames. My ears drooped low as I shed tears for them. Ja wrapped his arm around my shoulders guiding me away from the burning mass, Lo’a following behind. In front of us was Prager who carried Lyle on his back. 

“What happened?” I asked Ja. He exhaled deeply from his nose before telling me of how they took down Bridgehead.

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Taglist:

@sleepilysworld @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wolfmoon8269 @howlerwolfmax @lovekeeho @ducks118 @dyingofcookies @secretflowerobservation @thehoneymushroomhealer

[alwaysxlarrie]

sooo even tho i have an outline & louis simply existing, i’m still struggling w a lil writers block w my cult leader louis fic :/ i’m blaming starting a new job this month making me behind on everything fandom-related lol. anyway! thought i’d post a snippet to get back into the flow again (if anyone has any cult leader louis inspo, pls send it my way !!!)

‘Raising an eyebrow, Louis keeps his hands clasped together in front of himself with casual confidence —— a complete contrast to Harry’s hands timidly interlocked with each other behind himself. “Sorry, love, you’ll have to refresh my memory.”

Harry shouldn’t be disappointed. It’s not abnormal for someone giving a speech to not remember every interaction they’ve had with each person in the audience. He shouldn’t feel let down; shouldn’t feel a thick cloud of dread, heavy as a boulder, spreading throughout his body. He shouldn’t feel an overwhelming urge throw a tantrum, to make Louis remember him, to set himself apart from everyone else.

There would be nothing wrong with wanting Louis to remember him —— if it was about his excitement for the organization or the music. But that’s not why he wants to set himself apart from everyone else.

“Oh, uh. Sure, yeah...” Clearing his throat, he prays to the universe and God and anyone else listening to not let his face flush with a burning red blush for what he’s about to say. “When I—um—wolf whistled?”

“Wolf whistled?”

If nothing else, Harry can bask in the glory of getting rid of the interested-out-of-politeness-and-networking look Louis’ been sporting with the other students; at least he looks genuinely amused now. Harry’ll worry about the potential cons later.

He refuses to let himself visibly squirm, but there’s nothing he can do about the sheepish expression he’s undoubtedly sporting now. Sheepish and blushing —— fuck, he is not doing himself any favors with selling himself. “Yes. And, well. The thumbs up?”

Louis hums, stroking his chin with his palm, like he’s trying to remember. A few moments that feel like hours go by; Harry has to physically bite back the urge to keep talking, to see what else he can say or do to make Louis to remember him. But finally, a mischievous sparkle appears in his eyes as he nods and quirks an eyebrow —— such a simple facial expression and yet Harry has to fight off the urge to whimper at the sight. “Ah, yes. The eyebrow wiggling and wolf whistling.”

Harry tries to smile but it likely looks like a grimace instead. “Yeah, that was. Uh. That was me.”

Chuckling, Louis smiles at him -- a good sign, hopefully -- but he still can’t help but feel like it looks like a smile he’d give a puppy. Harry can’t decide if that’s good or not —— maybe Louis finds him cute and charming but maybe he’s just humoring him out of pity —— but regardless, smile is a smile. He’ll take it.

“I know, sweetheart. Just wanted to see how far you’d go to remind me. You’re persistent and dedicated. I like that -- two very important qualities in our line of work.”’

tagging @kingonafiftymetreroad @greenblueish @twopoppies @allwaswell16 @momrryrights @zanniscaramouche @jacaranda-bloom @homosociallyyours @infinitelymint @itsnotreal @crinkle-eyed-boo @beelou @lululawrence @disgruntledkittenface & anyone else who wants to post something !!

[welcometoteyvat]

whagghh can we see that hu tao xingqiu snippet wip?

Xingqiu slumps onto his desk, defeated. The deadline for a special volume of A Legend of Sword is scarcely three nights away, and yet he still hasn’t progressed past the first fight sequence. Every word he pens is inadequate, and the brush in his hand is crooked and sluggish, and another colorless midnight has almost passed, and still, he has nothing to show for it. His valiant unnamed hero claims a narrow victory against the Tai-Shogun’s cyborg samurai, and then—and then…

When Xingqiu’s eyelids flutter open again, the lantern by his window has dimmed considerably… He cannot have dozed off for that long, can he?

At least his father and brother are asleep. It would be best if they never find out about his sleeping schedule.

The shadow of his hand is so sharp against his lantern-lit draft. Xingqiu traces the ridges of his knuckles, a flickering black silhouette on the page beneath it. From this angle, it almost looks like a dragon’s mouth, one of the Natlan kinds… maybe he’ll be able to see one in person someday…

His eyes shut slowly.

———

ermmmmm embarrassing... this was supposed to be published with the snippet (so i could've just given you the full snippet since it isn't long anyways) but it's ballooned rather fast and I don't want to wait. also yeah this has no hu tao mentioned because unfortunately she comes in right after this lmao. also the hu tao xingqiu dialogue inspiration that struck me at 2 am yesterday left so now i have to reinvent the wheel (<- bad at banter). anyways i hope you enjoy <3 this idea was kinda random haha, i just wanted to write something from xingqiu's perspective and show how they bounce off each other really well LOL nothing much to it. I was going to change it into xingqiu + venti writers block (venti is one of the muses fr) but i haven't watched irodori thoroughly and decided to keep hu tao. anyways yeah hopefully i finish this thing soon lol

[jamiepage19]

Update on Haunted by the Opera Ghost

So. I'm still here. Suffering from severe writer's block and an extreme lack of motivation, but still here.

This chapter has consistently kicked my ass for months now. I think I've torn it apart and rewritten it like four times now. Not an easy feat considering that each rendition was over 2,600 words. And with each rewrite, my confidence dwindles and my insecurity over whether or not I should even be doing this grows. This is a pivotal chapter and I feel like I'm in a war with my characters lol. I have this carefully constructed plot with things I can and cannot do in order to progress said plot and stay true to my ending, and my characters are literally FIGHTING me.

That's a thing, right? It's okay. I'm okay.

It hasn't helped that I had surgery to fix a failing knee implant back in May, and the surgery actually made things a shit ton worse. My knee literally disintegrated while they were in there. So guess who now needs a total knee replacement at the ripe age of 40 instead of the partial they originally had done back in 2019? This girl right here. So yeah. Recovery has been a bitch, and the constant pain (and Lupus--FFS I cannot make this shit up. God I've had a fucking hell of a year. Sigh) and not being able to do simple things like laundry, housework, and yard work (seriously, the only thing I have wanted to do this summer is make my backyard look pretty) has brought a good dose of depression along with it. The only solace I've found lately has been playing the new Zelda game and avoiding everything else.

Anyway. This right here is an attempt to pull myself up by my boot straps. I've been writing fairly steadily the last couple of weeks, and while the progress I've made is small, it's still progress. I think I'm finally satisfied with the latest rewrite and have set myself up to finish the chapter in a way that doesn't conflict with my overall vision of this story. I'm also slowly responding to reviews on FFN and AO3, so if you haven't heard from me yet, you will. Just give me time. Every day is a battle right now, but I can get through this.

So yeah. Thank you for coming to my pity party. There will be party favors at the door. In the form of a chapter update. Hopefully very soon. If you read this til the end, you are a saint and I love you.

TL;DR - Life sucks but maybe a chapter update this weekend???

[sapphire-weapon]

I used to draw for other small/rare ships (apparently I'm drawn to those kind of ships lol), only one of them got huge enough after they were given some time alone in the manga which got the ship more talented and known creators and amazing fan art.

Unfortunately it also got more hate on since it was a ship that "got in the way" of other huge popular ships and going through the tag got annoying bc the haters tagged every post shitting on the previously rare pairing, plus if you reblogged or made content for it they would harass you. I just blocked everyone sending me hate lmao.

Lots of people now hate Leon/Ashley but I think this increased hatred also shows how the haters can see that it is a thing now unlike before. They see it as a real threat. You can see the insecurity in some of those antis, it's too obvious and also just sad imo. I don't get why antis take shipping too seriously like they're not even having fun anymore and that's supposed to be the point, no?

Truth is I've seen so many Leon/Ashley fans online and even irl, Reddit for example loves it and Remake Ashley is a fan favorite now. A lot of them are more casual fans that maybe don't engage that deeply with fanon (which tbh is the smart thing to do).

Finally I have to say your blog and the amazing fic writers have inspired me to go back to drawing fan art and just creating content for Ashley/Leon or EagleOne. :)

Since this is my new otp and the only thing I love shipping rn I'm also just creating a new blog for that purpose. I'm not an amazing artist I'm just an amateur but I'll try to do something soon when I'm less busy. I'll absolutely tag it as EagleOne. Hopefully I can motivate others to do the same.

anon what the fuCK i got all emotional reading this wyd 😭

i know that the antis are coming from a place of insecurity, which is why their arguments are so disingenuous (i finally found the "the devs went out of their way to make sure that leon and ashley weren't seen as romantic" tweet and hoo boy the desperation is stinky) -- and that's also why i don't engage with them. as easy and perhaps fun as it would be to just QRT it and be like "oh it makes sense now, you're all using text to speech because you don't actually know how to read" there's no point in doing that.

i said it a while ago, but i want to say it again for good measure -- i don't want us to become them. my humble goal for eagleone fandom is to be a haven for ppl. we've been the black sheep of this fandom for so long, and aeons are still accusing us of being predators or someshit (idk i'm only semi-fluent in delusional) that i feel like we all have an obligation to stay humble now that capcom's given us a fairy tale version of RE4 where our ship is the front-and-center romance and people are finally actually being drawn to the ship. no one knows how bad this fandom can get better than eagleone folk, so it's on us to not do unto others what has been done unto us.

idk maybe that's just my whole jewish "because you were slaves in egypt..." mindset coming out but

i want us to be a place where people can just come and hang out and make friends over our shared love for resident evil. i know that i have serennedy and cleon and chreon and metaltango people all following me, and i love all of them dearly and i'm happy that we've all found each other. i feel like that's what fandom should be.

that's why i don't fight with aeons out in the open. i don't want to become them. i'll swing back if they ever come here (though i hope valuable lessons were learned the last time someone tried to come in here swinging and i took them out in exactly two responses LMAO), but i don't want to go out picking fights and i don't want any of y'all to do it either.

so it makes me feel really warm and fuzzy and happy to hear that i've inspired you in some way. i know that our little corner of the fandom over here on tumblr is small, and i know that i don't exactly have the kind of welcoming personality that will give me any sort of real platform in this fandom (at least, not like the one i had back in the day when i was a fake ass bitch LMAO), but to know that i've made at least a little difference is everything for me.

[perhaps-sunlight]

Hey, I love your stories Tomarry!! They are so engaging and well written and I also really like how you portray Harry and Tom's personalities <3 Do you have any writing tips? And what do you recommend when you lose inspiration for a story? I'm trying to start one but so far it's not going so well lol

Hello anon, thank you so much for your kind words. I’m always happy to hear that readers enjoy my stories :)

I’m also flattered that you’re interested in writing tips from me. I would caveat by saying that writing is a very personal process, so my tips are only suggestions. There are also great writing resources out there to explore.

Identify the north star of your story: I liken writing a story to crossing a pebbled river at night with only a flashlight. You know that you need to get to the other side, but there are infinitely many pebbles to step on, and thus infinitely many paths. A north star can guide you, which is helpful especially in longfics to avoid dead ends and plot holes. A north star comes in different forms. Sometimes, it will be the major plot beats you need to hit (e.g. Tom and Harry fight Grindelwald together) that can be fleshed out into an outline. Other times, it will simply be a vibe that you want to convey (e.g. melancholy, or happy, or shocked!). And it's totally okay if it changes as you discover your story.

Empathize with all of your characters: and I do mean all, even the villains and side characters. An antagonist shouldn’t come across as a cardboard villain, a the protagonist shouldn’t come across as an overpowered Gary Stu / Mary Sue. What do they want? Why do they act the way they do? How would you summarize them in three words? The more you know your characters, the more they’ll feel like people rather than plot devices, and the more their voices will flow through in their actions and dialogues to help your stories move along.

Be kind to yourself and your writing: there’s an idealized view of writing where people just sit down at their desk and a masterpiece flows out, but I don’t think this is most people’s realities. Definitely not mine! Think about how an artist paints: you start with a sketch, then you fill in colors, and then you add highlights / shadows / etc. Writing is the same. Putting words on the page, no matter how terrible they seem, gives you the chance to improve them. And you will grow as a writer in the process.

With regards to what to do when you lose inspiration for a story, here are some ideas depending on why it happened.

You are burned out: please take care of yourself first and foremost! A break from a story can be a great way to gain fresh perspective on what’s working and what’s not. Never force yourself to power through something you don't enjoy.

You have a shiny new idea: you can explore the new idea. It doesn’t mean writing it out fully — it could mean outlining it, or freewriting, or sketching out some scenes. Sometimes,  you will scratch the itch and return to your original WIP. Other times, you may find that the new idea is more compelling, and your explorations will lay the foundations for a new WIP.

You have writer’s block: you can try discussing the idea with a writing buddy or friend, or leverage Tumblr / Discord / Reddit / other social media sites to get inspiration from internet strangers. You may get ideas from others, or naturally unblock yourself through the process of discussing your ideas.

And sometimes it’s okay to set aside something, as long as you don’t delete anything, because you never know when they'll come back. (never) let me go was a fic I first tried to write at 16, but while I had the teenage angst, I didn't have the life experience to do it justice. Years later, I was finally able to realize my vision, even though the actual story bears no resemblance whatsoever to my original attempt.

Anyway, I rambled for quite a bit. Hopefully something in there is useful. Best of luck in your writing anon!

[ageless-aislynn]

10 12 20 and a dealer’s choice on the writing asks!

Eee, thank you so much! 😁💖

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Definitely "15 Minutes" (John x Reader, Halo). I was suuuuuper new to writing xReader fics and that was just meant to be a one-and-done and I was extremely surprised that, not only did it seem to be liked, but I had people asking to read more about them. It's now an open-ended slow-burn that even has a spin-off "Recreation" for Kai and her male Reader!

Annnnnd thankfully I caught the typo of "Kai and her mail Reader," lol!

Kai: "Okay, honey bun, what mail did I get today?"

You: "All love letters, like usual. Do you want me to start alphabetically chronologically or by degree of Not Safe For Life?"

Kai: "Eh, your choice, sweet'ums!"

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

It's an amended version of my Camp NaNo July playlist, since I was writing for *drum roll* "15 Minutes" and "Recreation" in addition to an original piece. 😉I pulled out a few songs into a little "How To Date A Spartan (Without Even Trying)" playlist:

"Head Over Heels" - Tears For Fears "You keep your distance via the system of touch and gentle persuasion; I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time, you're just, just wasting time [...] Something happens and I'm head over heels; Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart, don't, don't, don't throw it away"

"Something Just Like This" - The Chainsmokers ft Coldplay "She said, where'd you wanna go? How much you wanna risk? I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts, some superhero, some fairy-tale bliss, just something I can turn to, somebody I can miss"

"Someone To You" - Banners "I wanna be somebody to someone, I never had nobody and no road home, I wanna be somebody to someone [...] Someone to you"

"Silhouette" - Aquilo "The devil's on your shoulder, the strangers in your head, as if you don't remember, as if you can forget; It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime, but tonight you're a stranger; Some silhouette"

"Be Here Now" - Ray LaMontagne "Be here now, don't lose your faith in me"

"Don't Give Up On Me" - Andy Grammer "I will fight, I will fight for you, I always do until my heart is black and blue; And I will stay, I will stay with you, we'll make it through the other side like lovers do"

"Never Tear Us Apart" - INXS "I was standing, you were there, two worlds collided and they could never, ever tear us apart"

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

I think that would have to be "The Thousandth and the First" (NSFW)(Caitlin/Eobard, The Flash). The title doesn't really make any sense until the very last line of its 10 chapters and then, hopefully, it tied the entire thing back together with a bow, lol!

Random number generator 😂 says: 15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

I do have a habit of making the titles the punchline to the story like the above "Thousandth and First" or "Granted" (Caitlin/Harry, The Flash), "I Am" (Barry, MattLetscher!Eobard/Nora, The Flash), "*With Benefits" (NSFW in content but nothing graphic) (Caitlin/Harry, The Flash), "His" (Kai/John, Halo) or some sort of pun or wordplay "Scandal, Us?" (NSFW in content but nothing graphic) (Frost/Nash, The Flash), "Cherryished" (Lydia/Peter, Teen Wolf) or "(In)vulnerable" (NSFW LIEK WOAH, the most graphic thing I've ever written, if that tells you anything 😱😂) (Eobard x Reader, The Flash). Or sometimes something will just pop into my head and that's how I end up with a "The Ice Dragon and the Winter Fox" (Killer Frost/HR, The Flash) or "Gray Sunflowers" (Caitlin/Hunter, The Flash).

Thanks so much for giving me an excuse to ramble, it actually does help my persistent writer's block to look over my work to figure out answers, I dunno why, lol! 🤷‍♀️

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