#i kind of don't want anyone ever reading my poetry ever

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

my uni literary journal is accepting submissions 👀 do i do it

[astrxealis]

i really want to write a song one day

[acheronist]

to the ghost of henry peglar, congrats on writing your poem down 177 years ago!!!

to the actual academic scholars who have studied the pages before me....

so I took the royal museum greenwich's scan of the poem page (which is available online hereeee) and screwed around with its light levels in photoshop until henry's script was darkened enough to see more clearly. then I digitally traced over the darkened letters as best as I could, while also trying to discern his handwriting, and type up how I was reading it & this process took me about a week to get done between like... living my regular day to day life lmao.......

so when it WAS done, the final isabel acheronist peglar papers ["the open C"] transcript seemed a bit different than how I remembered the readily available russell potter transcript going ? (the poem is on the last two pages of that pdf for those of you who don't spend a billion hours a week looking at it btw)

it felt like I was getting more/different information out of it, compared to the potter transcript, which was kind of stressing me out honestly. so THEN I compared mine with barry cornwall's original poem and found more words that matched up? particularly in the second and third stanzas?

so!!!!! almost two hundred years later here's what I've landed on:

April 21 1847 the C the C the open ) ( it grew so fresh the Ever free the Ever free the Ever free without it without it covered it will Run to Earth above Re gions Round I love the C I love the C when I whare & I wish to be with and and silence whare Never go if a sailor should a Come and Make the meek What matter what matter Come Ride Or Sleep there was shores white and of red morn at the noisy hours knew I was ever near I was Born the [...] in felt Unto the Maid the wale the young dolphin ...... yet thes back of gold the Call of gods When I was on Old England Shore I like the young C more and more oftentimes time flew to a sweltering place like a bird thats seeks it mother Case and ware she was bird oft to me for have I loved a young and Hopen C

so then after going thru All Of That, I wanted to have a version of the original poem with parts that Henry did remember clearly highlighted for comparison purposes:

I know it's a popular theory that Henry was writing a dirty parody of the original poem? which if true, is funny as hell. me when i have to write cheeky victorian porn before i die.

But (serious voice) something about that hadn't ever seemed exactly right to me... IN MY HEART it seems more realistic that around 1847 he (and also by extension, the whole surviving expedition crew) were starting to experience confusion / brain fog symptoms from being ummmm quite physically unwell. the lead poisoning/scurvy combo would have severe effects on the brain's ability to function properly, and I started to wonder if Henry was trying to test his memory somehow? So he picked a widely known and popular Victorian era poem about being a sailor to see how much he could recall??? and he then got a little whimsical with it, and wrote in his own words to fill in the portions he couldn't fully recall, because it's his own diary and likely didn't expect anyone else to ever read it, much less have it turn into ONE of TWO surviving sources about the expedition?????

like... idk... this is probably the work of someone in the exact moment as they were starting to realize how bad things were, and then was trying to cope by using poetry. and That hurts my feelings enough as it is, but going through it was also just a very weird and haunting experience....... like, I can recognize all these tiny details in this dead guy's script and handwriting now. and to read his own account of his life in his own words, what stood out to him and what he recalled, what he wanted people in the future to know about him? insane. it literally felt like i was getting haunted by him for no reason. on top of knowing that Someone (#teamarmitage) loved this guy enough to keep his memory protected and safe, even though They Were So Totally Fucked And Going To Die There, unknowing if they'd ever be found again........

SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + CRYING A BIT HONESTLY

anyways thanks for reading this all. I don't think that this is revolutionary franklin expedition news by any means, and idk if there's a better different transcript somewhere that i've not found that already covers all this? but it's consumed a lot of my life lately lol and i wanted to share. because its the anniversary of henry writing it, and it felt...... important....? 💌....????

[writingquestionsanswered]

how can i make a fake framed traitor out of an extremely kind, virtuous and genuine character that the main character trusts wholeheartedly? what could i use to make the MC and reader be like ‘yes this is unlikely but unfortunately makes sense’ just to make a reveal later?

Making a Framed Traitor Seem Genuine

There are three things you can do to make a framed traitor seem like they're genuinely a traitor...

1 - Make the Motive Make Sense - Any traitorous act must have an underlying motive... the reason that anyone would commit the traitorous act to begin with. So the key is to find a way to make that motive make sense for that character, no matter how random it may seem. Like, maybe a side benefit to committing the traitorous act is a cash windfall, and maybe the framed character also happened to recently mentioned being in need of cash for some legitimate reason. It may not mean they're guilty, but the motive fits.

2 - Sweeten the Pot with a Little Plausible Deniability - Try to think of some additional coincidental thing that will make them look even more guilty, but which also gives them some plausible deniability. Like, maybe one of the orchestrators of this traitorous act also happens to own a popular night club in town. And maybe the framed character is known to never go to night clubs, ever, but maybe one night they were peer pressured into attending a barely known co-worker's bachelorette party, and during that party they got separated from the group and had to wander into several different nightclubs trying to find the group again. And maybe they happened to wander into the bad person's nightclub without even knowing it, and were spotted going into said nightclub by one of the about-to-be-betrayed friends, which obviously looks very bad for the framed person. Because now, in addition to having a reasonable motive for the betrayal they are accused of, they've also been seen in a place that suggests an association with one of the other perpetrators. And although they have the plausible deniability ("I didn't go there because I wanted to... I was looking for the group I was with...) there's no way they can prove that's true.

3 - Drop a Few Other Subtle Hints - That may be enough to make your character look guilty when they're not, but if you need to, you could drop in one or a few other hints earlier on in the story that accomplish the same thing on a more subtle level. Something that will look bad in retrospect but hardly be noticeable at the time. Like, maybe one of the soon-to-be-betrayed friends invites them to their slam poetry reading, and the framed person texts at the last minute that they can't come because they have to work late (which is actually true), and then later the group will learn that Team Bad did some big thing that night. At the time it seems like nothing, but in retrospect--thinking that framed-character was involved in the traitorous act, now it makes sense that they missed the slam poetry night because... of course! They were actually with Team Bad doing the bad thing they did that night. Again, this wouldn't occur to the characters or reader at the time, but when connecting the dots in retrospect, it all adds up. Of course, the reality is it was just a coincidence and they really were at work that night.

Just be careful not to go too far in making them look really guilty. You don't want to weight them down with so many coincidences that look bad that they always look a little guilty, even once absolved.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

INTRO POST <3

Here's a long-overdue intro post.

NOTE - I LOVE RECIEVING ASKS AND I WILL ANSWER THEM AS SOON AS THE HORRORS WEIGH DOWN A LITTLE LESS.

LINKS SIDE BLOGS: @i-think-im-breaking-down-again - more personal blog @cappuccino-circa-capillaries - mental health stuff /pos @a-bitch-can-write-poetry - poetry and web weaving reblogs, will post my original work if I ever get the courage @honestly-im-honest- silly stuff @edwinpayneshomosexualtendencies - dbda side blog

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DA BASICS- ABOUT ME: Name - Lisa Avenir (you can call me Lise or Liz) Nationality - Indian Languages - English, Hindi, a1 French, aspiring German, a dialect of Hindi spoken in my home state which is completely incomprehensible to anyone who does not speak it to the point its an entirely new language (which it is but I'm not going to reveal it because I don't want my home state to be known) Age - minor Gender - mostly female Pronouns - she/they Sexuality - ace-spec lesbian Religion - Atheist DNI: Homophobic, Transphobic, sexist, racist, ableist, any kind of phobic in general No assholes allowed either I love receiving asks just no freaky stuff FACTS- 🪶Only Child who keeps losing friends 🪶I love any form of Noodles Soup 🪶I have a huge crush on Maya Hawke 🪶I love biology and anatomy 🪶I need psychological help /srs 🪶I cry a lot, it's an art 🪶I might have a migraine issue which might be getting better :D 🪶I have brown ass basic eyes 🪶Reading mythology is my bae 🪶My vocabulary might be good but I can't spell for shit. 🪶I love making little collages on PowerPoint 🪶I'm touch starved but touch aversed. Yes, we exist. 🪶I'm a nerd fighter 🪶I love dissecting song lyrics 🪶My aesthetic is dark academia, dark feminine(excluding the femcel bs), witchcore and sickly victorian child dying of the plague core 🪶I am a hyper-organized person who might have germophobia 🪶I'm pretty sure I have trichotillomania 🪶I have these sneeze attacks on a daily basis where I sneeze like 15 times over the course of 3 minutes

HOBBIES- 🪶Reading 🪶Writing poetry or songs 🪶Listening to Music 🪶Talking about stars 🪶The Universe 🪶Literature 🪶Science (fuck physics)

INTERESTS- MUSIC: I love listening to albums(like a LOT of them) 🪶Genre - Indie, Indie pop, Rock, Alt-Indie, Basic white girl pop, Pop-rock, Pop-punk, Folk, Old Bollywood, Male manipulator, Female Manipulator, Lesbian Manipulator, ghazal, anything that slaps 🪶Artists - Ricky Montgomery, Lana Del Rey, Chappel Roan, Flower Face, Taylor Swift, Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, Girl in Red, Clario, Conan Gray, Hank Green, Hayley Williams, Joji, Indila, Sabrina Carpenter, Adele. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Jagjit Singh, Muhammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle etc etc 🪶Bands - Wallows, Florence and the Machine, Sir Chloe, Hole, The Smiths, Paramore, Beach House, The Jayhawks, The Neighborhood, Fun Guns, Cage The Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Radiohead, My Chemical Romance, Hayley Kiyoko. 🪶Albums(favorites) - evermore and folklore by Taylor Swift, Montgomery Ricky by Ricky Montgomery, Depression Cherry by Beach House, Ceremonials and Lungs By Florence and The Machine, Superache by Conan Gray, Emails I can't send frwd: by Sabrina Carpenter, Hozier by Hozier, Riot! and Paramore by Paramore, AM by Arctic Monkeys, Party Flavors and I am the Dog by Sir Chloe, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers, Rainy Day Music by The Jayhawks, Petals for Armour by Hayley Willams, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan, Social Cues by Cage The Elephant, Live through this by Hole, Born to Die(The Paradise Edition) and Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey, Nothing Happens by Wallows, Baby Teeth and Fever Dreams and The Shark in your Water by Flower Face, Lilt by Hikes, Get up and Move by Fun Guns, The Black Parade by MCR. 🪶Artists that I lowkey neglect but should high-key eat - Nirvana, Tame Impala, Men we trust, Cavetown, Pink Floyd, blink-182, Green Day, boygenius, Mitski, The Smashing Pumpkins, Suki Waterhouse. BOOKS- 🪶Genre - Dark, War pieces, Dystopias, Young Adult, Depressing, Dark Academia, Classics, Psychological Thriller. 🪶Ride or Die- The Book Thief, The Perks Of Being a Wallflower, The Picture of Dorian Grey, MAUS, Paper Towns, Looking for Alaska, All the Bright Places, The Midnight Library, The Handmaid's Tale, The Diary of a Young Girl, The Boy In The Stripped Pajamas, Circe, Before the coffee gets cold, Sharp Objects, The Martian, The DaVinci Code, The Emperor of All Maladies, Turtles all the way down, And Then There Were None, The Catcher in The Rye, No Longer Human, Grandpa's Great Escape, Wild Bird, The Giver. 🪶Honorable Mentions from my TBR - A Little Life, Bunny, If We Were Villains, The Secret History, 1984, To Kill A Mockingbird, Six Of Crows, Lord of the Flies, Piranesi, Cleopatra and Frankenstein, Crime and Punishment, How it Feels to Float, Orbiting Jupiter, Normal People, Fahrenheit 451, The Myth of Sisyphus, Lessons in Chemistry, Slaughterhouse-five, Dark Matter. 🪶Poets - Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth. Sappho,

MOVIES- Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Lady Bird, Whiplash, Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, Forrest Gump, Duck Duck Goose, Rapunzel SERIES- BBC Sherlock, Orange Is The New Black, Brooklyn99, Dead Boy Detectives, Heartstopper, Derry Girls, Modern Family, House md?

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[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

How You Get the Girl

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie's had a crush on Reader forever but doesn't know where to start when talking to her. Luckily for him, she has the perfect advice and he's in just the right place to overhear it!

Word Count: 3.8K ish

Warnings: none really. Spoilers for Star Wars original trilogy and my maybe controversial Star Wars opinions.

A/N: This isn't based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name, but I've recently listened to 1989 for the first time and it's my entire personality now! Listened to it a lot while writing and it's too good of a title not to steal for this! I had lots of fun with this idea, I hope you enjoy reading!

Please don't copy my work

'I just don't get it!'

It was a quiet afternoon in the middle of Autumn. A few solitary customers meandered between the shelves, but Family Video was almost deserted. You stood behind the counter, arms folded, while you endeavoured to solve the enigma of why you best friend couldn’t get a girl.

‘Is your hair not cool enough or something?’

Steve scoffed. ‘Look, it’s not about the hair!’ He mirrored your stance.

Despite your friendship, you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. In high school, girls would have given anything just to be seen with him. Maybe he’d lost his touch? Maybe high school just didn’t matter after all? Either way, King Steve had lost his crown.

‘What’s it about then?’ you relented, seeing his face drop in defeat, ‘How’d you get the girl?’

He stuttered, struggling to condense his elaborate, and frankly shoddy, wooing methods into coherent sentences while you watched him flounder.

In truth, he was different now. Steve wasn’t looking for some meaningless hook-up anymore. He wanted something deeper. Something built to last,

And that was a whole different ballgame.

Unseen between the shelves, Eddie Munson smirked. He wasn’t pretending to browse the selection of tapes he told himself, he just couldn’t help but listen to the two of you go back and forth.

Especially you!

Your voice was music to his ears. He could hardly decipher the words so it wasn’t technically eavesdropping! The melody alone was enough to overpower him.

Eddie had been crushing on you hard for almost three years now. You’d been friends of friends for a while, hanging out in the same group with Steve, Nancy, Robin, and usually Dustin Henderson.

He’d almost asked you out a thousand times but something always make him chicken out. It was ridiculous really; flirting was something that had always come easy to him. Poetry and showmanship were his weapons of choice but something short-circuited in his brain whenever he tried to talk to you. The words stuck in his throat.

You scared him, okay? You were classy and confident, so sure of yourself. You were never ever afraid to speak your mind and you didn’t care what anyone thought of you!

Kind of like him, he thought. Except he did care. Eddie really cared what you thought of him!

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ your disbelieving tone cut through the clouds of his thoughts.

‘What?’ Steve retorted.

You shook your head hopelessly, ‘Act like you don’t care?’ you mimicked, adding sarcastic air quotes, ‘Wait for the… ‘electricity’? No wonder you aren’t getting any girls!’

He threw his hands up in surrender, ‘Well you’re a girl!’

‘Yes, well spotted Harrington!’

‘Go on then, tell me what to do!’ he contested, leaning back on the counter, ‘What makes you see a future with someone? What makes you want to go out with someone, and stay with them?’

Eddie’s ears pricked up. He couldn’t help it.

You agonised, ‘You’ve got to care Steve! You’ve gotta make her feel wanted! Remember the little things about her, compliment her! Not just quietly but when other people can hear!’

Eddie rummaged in his bag for a pen and paper. He couldn’t believe his luck! After years of not knowing where to start to show you how much you meant to him, here you were, unknowingly giving him a step-by-step guide! Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, he started scrawling madly across the page as you spoke.

‘Ask her about her interests and listen to her! I mean really listen!’

Easy!

‘Get her flowers! Show that you’re thinking about her!’

Eddie never stopped thinking about you.

‘Invite her to spend time together doing things you both enjoy!’

Piece of cake! (Ignoring all the times he’s failed to do just that!)

‘Be honest about your feelings for her!’

Now hold up. His pen froze, hovering in mid-air. If talking was an Olympic sport, Eddie would win gold but he’s never been great at talking about how he felt. Not that he didn’t have feelings, he supposed he just had too many.

‘That’s so much work!’ Steve whined and you laughed. The sound refocussed Eddie’s despondent mind.

‘True love takes work, Harrington! You’re not some fairytale princess!’

The conversation went on in the background but he didn’t hear the rest. You were right. If he wanted this, wanted you, he was going to have to work for it! No more backing down! No more shying away! No more running!

‘You okay over there, Munson?’

Eddie snapped out of his trance, nearly knocking the shelves over. ‘Yeah!’ he choked, resolve shattering. He stuffed his paper and pen away and grabbed the nearest movie, stumbling over to the desk and your smiling face. Incapable of looking you in the eye, he shoved the tape onto the counter. ‘Please don’t be anything weird!’ he prayed to no one in particular as you turned it over.

Your customer service smile split into a real one, ‘Oh no way! I love Star Wars!’

‘I-uh-,’

‘Say something Eddie!’ he thought furiously, shifting his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him whole, ‘Yeah… I thought it was about time I got round to watching them!’ he managed.

‘You’ve never seen them?’ your face morphed into shock then mock offence, ‘But they’re the best!’

His mouth moved but nothing came out. ‘Ask about things she’s passionate about!’ a small voice whispered in his mind.

‘Which… one’s your favourite?’

‘Oh, I don’t know!’ you rested your elbows on the counter, head in hands and thinking hard. Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking. You really were breath taking. The way you frowned slightly, the way your eyes narrowed and lips pressed together like this was the most important decision in the world. It made him giddy.

‘Everyone says Empire’s the best,’ you said slowly, ‘But I think Jedi’s my favourite! You just can’t beat the ending!’

‘Is that the one with the teddy bears?’ Steve chimed from the back room, giving Eddie time to pick his gaping jaw off the floor.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly turning over your shoulder, ‘Yes, well done Steve! For the last time, they’re called Ewoks!’

Eddie couldn’t help laughing. You shook your head with a smile, ‘You’ll have to tell me what you think of them!’

‘Yeah!’ he choked, ‘Absolutely!’ His head was reeling from what must be the longest conversation he’d ever had with you.

‘Well, I’ll see you round, Munson!’

‘Yeah… yeah!’ he grabbed the tape from between you, turned heel and hurried out of the store grinning like an idiot. Step one complete! Gone, were the days of wistfully hoping you’d take notice of him! Now he had a battle plan and this film was his way in!

If he’d turned around, he’d have seen the small smile spread its way over your mouth. Steve poked his head out of the back room and wiggled his eyebrows. You moved to shove him and he ducked out of the way, a grin of his own stretching his face.

***

Sharp Autumn wind made you hug your cardigan closer. Leaves crunched and puddles splashed underfoot as you trekked the familiar streets to work, your favourite song blaring in your headphone

‘Hey! Hey, wait up!’

Fumbling with your headphones, you twisted round. Barrelling toward you was Eddie, his tongue poking out as he tried to balance two takeaway cups in his hands while running at breakneck speed.

You couldn’t help but smile.

He skidded to a halt in front of you panting wildly. ‘Here!’ he thrust one of them out at you and you took it. The cup warmed your cold fingers and your name was scribbled on the lid in black sharpie.

‘What’s this?’ you asked as he slurped his own.

‘Hot Chocolate,’ he answered, ‘You like that, right?’

‘Yeah…’ a sigh of laughter passed your lips, ‘I meant what for?’

Eddie just shrugged, ‘You mind if I walk with you?’

‘I’m on the way to work.’

‘I know, I’m headed there too!’

You started walking and he fell into step beside you. After a long sip of hot chocolate that warmed you right down to your toes you spoke. ‘Did you watch the movie?’ He nodded excitedly. ‘And?’

Eddie pretended to think for a second, ‘Uh and it’s amazing!’ He meant it too! The movie had blown him away, had him on the edge of his seat the whole time. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to see it!

But even if that wasn’t true, even if it had been the most boring movie he’d ever experienced, he’d watch it over and over just to see the light that shone in your eyes when you talked about it.

‘Sorry, I’m probably being really annoying!’ You caught yourself in the middle of a tangent.

‘No!’ He couldn’t reply fast enough, ‘I love hearing you talk!’

‘Really?’ the words made your heart skip a beat. Privately, you’d never been sure about Eddie. Sure, you’d hung out before in groups but whenever you’d tried to talk to him, he always seemed to shrug you off. From his short, usually monosyllabic answers, you’d just assumed he found you irritating. Disappointing, because you might have harboured a bit of a crush but there was no point pursuing someone who clearly wasn’t interested.

Yet all of that seemed to have changed. Now, he was trailing after you to work, listening to you babble on about some sci-fi movie and hanging onto your every word. It was nice. Really nice!

From there you talked about everything. He asked about your music taste and hesitantly shared his own. You found out he played guitar in a band and made him promise to tell you when his next gig was so you could come and see.

The video store approached. He stepped in front, opening the door then letting you go first.

‘You after Empire then?’ you asked, taking off your hat and scarf and hanging them in the backroom.

Eddie nodded, ‘This is the one that everyone says is the best, right?’

‘Yeah,’ ducking under the counter, you searched for the tape, ‘It is really awesome! There’s lots of surprises!’ He noted the knowing look in your eye. At last, you found it, holding it out with a smile, ‘Enjoy!’

Your hands touched a bit more than maybe they needed to as he took the video.

‘I’ll be back!’ he promised, tucking it in his bag and scooping up your empty cup for the bin.

***

First thing the next morning, Eddie crashed through the doors yelling at the top of his lungs. ‘What the hell?’

You jumped out of your skin and so did the customer you were serving. Your face split into a smile. You hurried the transaction but Eddie was still hollering, gesturing wildly with both hands. ‘You never told me Darth Vader is Luke’s fa-! ‘

‘Eddie!’ you cut him off, barely able to control your laughter, ‘Spoilers!’

The rest of the store suddenly solidified. Everyone was staring, some shaking their heads in disapproval.

‘Sorry!’ he winced. Tiptoeing up to the desk he leant in, comically close, ‘You didn’t tell me he was Luke’s father!’ he repeated in a stage-whisper.

‘I know!’ you giggled, matching his theatrical tone, ‘What did you think?’

‘It was amazing! I honestly don’t know how anything’s gonna top that!’

You grinned, ‘Well you’ll have to wait and see! You want the next one right away? I put it aside for you!’

‘You did?’

‘Course I did!’ Without waiting for an answer, you slipped away into the back to find it. Eddie took a shaky breath, missing the closeness. Anxiety twisted in his stomach.

‘Come on, Munson!’ he chided himself. ‘It’s now or never!’ He fiddled with his rings, wrists resting on the counter.

It didn’t take you long to come back, holding the video case aloft in ceremonial fashion. ‘Here ya go! The thrilling conclusion!’ setting it down. He managed a grim smile. ‘You gotta come by tomorrow and tell me what you thought!’

A lump stuck in his throat and he grimaced, ‘Oh well… I uh… I was wondering-,’

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah!’ he chuckled awkwardly. This was going great! ‘I was just wondering if… if you maybe wanted to watch it… with me?’

That was it! The words were out in the open now, he had no way to recall them!

The invitation took you by surprise, eyes widened and a small ‘Oh.’ Was all you could manage before he rambled on. Words, previously impossible, now wouldn’t stop.

‘I mean just because you said it’s your favourite! I was thinking we could get pizza or something! I dunno. We don’t have to, I know we haven’t really talked much before but I just thought-,’

‘I’d love to!’

‘-it would be really cool to maybe-!’ he stopped, it took a second to hear that you’d spoken and longer still to process your response. ‘Wait what?’

You smiled and repeated yourself.

He was gobsmacked. Was this real? He never thought he’d get this far!

‘Right! Yeah, cool!’ the words stuck again, ‘I’ll uh… I’ll see you at six, right? …At mine.’

‘Sounds great!’

Somehow, he made it out of the store, clutching the video in both hands. He waited ‘til he was out of sight behind his van before punching the air. Finally! After years of failed attempts, he did it! The drive home was a haze; it was a miracle he made it back in one piece.

At some point he must have ordered pizza because some kid in a yellow shirt showed up at his door at a few minutes to six. All afternoon he’d been floating on air. Now he was freaking out.

What if he messed something up? What if he said something weird? What if you changed your mind and didn’t show?

What if? What if? What if?

***

You arrived a few minutes before he’d said to, giving yourself time to figure out where to park and glance at yourself in the rear-view mirror.

Steve and Robin had teased you relentlessly for dressing up. Claims you categorically denied, of course!

Sure, you’d made an effort. A light dusting of makeup made it look less like you’d worked the late shift for the third night in a row the day before and you just liked the way your favourite sweater made your eye colour a bit more vibrant. That didn’t mean anything! Besides, it wasn’t like he meant anything by it! It was just a movie! Pizza and a movie!

So why were you nervous?

He opened the door almost immediately after you knocked, ushering you inside from the fast-falling dusk. His trailer was cosy and inviting; from all reports, you guessed he must have tidied up significantly. The lamplight enveloped you in a warm glow and the intoxicating smell of pizza made your tummy rumble.

‘You still like pepperoni, right?’ he asked, opening the box, releasing a plume of steam into the air.

‘Yeah,’ you breathed in the scent, ‘How did you know that?’

He looked at the floor suddenly embarrassed, ‘I uh… remember that one time in eighth grade when we had that pizza party? I remembered you were sad because they didn’t have pepperoni.’ He looked up, assessing your response before backtracking hastily, ‘I’m sorry that’s so weird!’

‘No, no, it’s amazing!’ shaking your head and picking out a particularly cheesy slice, ‘The only thing I remember from middle school are those crazy outfits you and your band wore for the talent show!’

‘You remember that?’ He grinned at the memory, ‘Super metal, right?’

After loading a plate each with pizza slices, he slipped the movie into the player and settled next to you on the couch. For a while you didn’t speak much, eating and absorbed by the movie. That was until Obi-Wan’s ghost revealed that-

‘Leia is Luke’s sister?’ Eddie shot up, knocking his empty plate to the floor.

You giggled at his outburst, ‘I know!’

‘How many more reveals are there going to be? Hey! And they-,’ he wrinkled his nose in disgust. You could see a specific scene from the last movie replaying in his mind.

‘I know! It’s so gross!’

‘I don’t believe this!’ he sat back down, ‘I’m never going to recover! Never!’

You elbowed him, ‘Watch the damn move, Munson!’

Was it your imagination, or did his breathing hitch. You’d scooched much closer than before, practically laying your head on his shoulder. Was he uncomfortable? Were you too forward? Your worries were put to rest when he draped his arm around you, slow and tentative, as if giving you a chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

The rest of the movie passed by in comfortable quiet, interspersed with Eddie asking excited questions and you berating him to be patient! You couldn’t stop yourself giving the odd bit of trivia or behind the scenes insight and to your delight, he actually seemed to care!

Eventually the credits rolled. He didn’t move right away so you wriggled to look up at him. He was starstruck, open mouthed, and more than a little misty eyed.

‘So?’ you asked cautiously.

His eyes switched from the screen to yours, forming a breathless smile. ‘That was amazing!’ You laughed. ‘I mean it!’ he said, ‘It was so epic! That final duel on the Death Star was just… and Anakin’s death? Wow! And the ghosts at the end? You were totally right about the ending being the coolest thing ever!’

You laughed with him. The mile wide grin on his face lit up his eyes like a thousand stars, sending butterflies whirling in your stomach. He felt like a different person. Secretly, you’d worried he wouldn’t enjoy it, that he’d think it was silly or it just wouldn’t be his thing but he gave you no doubt! His enthusiasm was the most genuine of anybody’s you’d ever seen and you realised then, you’d give anything to see it again and again.

Eddie started to clear away the plates and pizza box. While you helped, a question kept gnawing at you. A question you were almost afraid of the answer to.

‘Why are you doing this?’ you asked, stopping before you stooped put your shoes back on. He froze like you’d caught him doing something wrong.

‘Doing what?’ his voice failed to imitate nonchalance.

‘Being… nice to me all of a sudden.’ It was the only way you could describe it. He really seemed to care, to actually want to hear your opinions, share your joy.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he continued clearing up but he hid his face behind his hair.

‘You’re a terrible liar!’ you moved closer and saw his shoulders tense, ‘Tell the truth!’

He didn’t speak. All the light from before extinguished, something closed him off again. Maybe you’d crossed a line? Said something wrong?

‘You know, you aren’t as mean and scary as I thought you were,’ you tried gently, anxious to get the other Eddie back. He smiled a bit, though still not looking at you.

‘Neither are you!’

‘You thought I was mean and scary?’

‘Not mean!’ he clarified, ‘But scary as hell!’

You couldn’t help but laugh and a small chuckle escaped his chest. ‘Why?’

‘Because!’ he gestured at nothing in particular, ‘Because you’re you and you’re so sure of yourself and you don’t care what anyone thinks! And…’ he stopped.

‘And?’ you asked when he didn’t continue. He didn’t want to tell you, not yet. He was only just getting started! There were still so many things he had left to do before…

‘Be honest with her about your feelings!’ wheedled his brain. It was a struggle but he forced himself to meet your eye. Looking like a man about to risk it all, he wet his lips and took a steady breath.

‘And…’ he continued, voice low, ‘I’ve had a massive crush on you since… forever!’

Oh!

The words hung in the silence between you. They echoed in your head and in your heart.

Before you could respond, he tore on, ‘And I never knew how to talk to you before because I was scared that you’d… I don’t know… laugh at me or something? Because I know, I’m a colossal disaster and I don’t know how to say romantic things or anything when I’m around you!’ He stopped to draw breath.

‘What changed?’ you cut in, still trying to process his confession. All this time you’d worried he didn’t like you and now he told you he felt all that?

Eddie hung his head. He raised a hand to his neck, rubbing furiously as a flush rose in his cheeks. ‘Um… You remember like a month ago? You were talking to Harrington about why he couldn’t make a relationship work?’

‘Yeah?’ the interaction seemed so small, so inconsequential.

‘Well… I might have been listening and I wrote down all your advice and planned to use it on you!’

His nose scrunched; shoulders tensed. At last, everything was laid out on the line. All he could do was wait for your response.

Worst case scenarios, none of them remotely in character, fired through his mind. You being super weirded out and never wanting to talk to him again. Laughing in his face and telling everyone you knew that the big scary metalhead was a hopeless romantic sap in disguise.

To his surprise, you reached up and cupped his face in your hand, rose on your tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.

He looked down at you, eyes wide. You held his gaze. He hardly dared hope.

‘I guess I give really good dating advice!’ you murmured.

He breathed out slowly, and a bright shining smile graced your lips. ‘Yeah?’

You nodded. ‘You should tell Steve it worked! Maybe then he’ll listen to me!’ Eddie let out a laugh, relief washing over him.

Your eyes found each other’s again. For a moment you just stood there, admiring his features up close. The faint brush of freckles over his nose, his slow, steady breath that moved his chest up and down, the way his eyes widened when he looked at you. Like they were seeing the whole world at once. You noticed them flicker to your lips and your heart fluttered.

‘Do you want to kiss me?’ your voice was quiet but earnest.

He blushed at the question, then, almost imperceptibly nodded. You smiled, moving ever closer, until you were practically nose to nose.

‘Go on then!’

***

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback and reblogs are so incredibly appreciated! It makes me all warm and fuzzy when I hear that you enjoyed a story I wrote! Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything else I write!

Tags: @sadbitchfangirl

Masterlist

[almightygremlinblob]

Small KenJin Blurb

A super floofie, teenie tiny KenJin ficlet ft. mentions of Sukuna and a very down bad Kenny. I swear, these two take over my head in the most random times...

Kenjaku closes the door with enough force to nearly slam it. It was the same old boring shit. Another day of blabbering about…pretty much nothing to anyone that was desperate enough to hear him and get their validation.

Another day Kenjaku was bothered something he couldn't place.

Well, not quite.

It was actually Jin who was bothered by something - but if Jin was bothered, so was Kenjaku.

"Jin…" Kenjaku pouts and tries to kiss him - the other cringing and pushing him away instantly.

"Not this vessel, love. He's handsome but he's a complete stranger!" Jin sighs. "You know this…"

"I thought you humans liked that sort of thing." Kenjaku opens up his stitches and reveals his true self, to which Jin then tiptoes and places a gentle kiss on the curse's teeth. "I apologize, my dear."

Jin grumbles, trying to push him away and the curse sighs.

"Jin…this is ridiculous." The pout is clear in Kenjaku's voice as he gently takes his lover's chin and forces the other to look at him. "You've been acting strange all week! What is it, dearest? What's bothering you?"

"It's just…weird, knowing he'll be around again."

"Ah." Kenjaku cringes, knowing the other was talking about his twin.

"I…I-I gave myself up for him, you know?" Jin fidgets with his sweater a little, and Kenjaku gently rubs his thumb against his forehead - a mutual signal between the two to let out their thoughts or true self. "In the womb, I let myself be eaten. It was my first and last act of love for my brother. The last thing I wished for before I died was to see him again, one day. Now, I-he…d-did he turn out okay?"

"Oh, it was you…" Kenjaku covers his mouth, feigning shock as he gently shakes the other by his broad shoulders. "My lord Jin! Have you any idea what kind of monster your 'kindness' brought forth, you ignorant fool?!"

"What." Jin frowns, grumbling as the curse pokes him on the cheek. "Do I look like I care? Is he okay or not?!"

"Oh, I'm joking! I'm joking!" Kenjaku snickers, burying himself under his lover's chin - though he had to lean down a little, seeing as his new host was a bit taller than his husband. "Partly, anyways. That does explain A LOT of his beliefs. As for your question, ah…well, define 'okay' first, won't you?"

"I mean, he…he hasn't starved since, has he?" Jin sighs. "Had a roof over his head? Proper education? Stuff like that?"

"Simultaneously none and all of those." Kenjaku rubs his arms, trying to reassure the other, when he feels Jin deflate a little. "He hasn't starved, but his diet consisted of pretty much everything considered sacred at the time…and people."

"WHAT-"

"He knows how to read and write, got really good at poetry and arts, as per the times, but nobody ever taught him. He learned it himself. From gathering and making the materials, or stealing them, to actual calligraphy and watercolor techniques." Jin recieves a sorry on the head as Kenjaku continues to explain. "As for the roof over his head…he had them, mostly, by taking whatever was left after he'd destroyed the entire village or killed and ate everyone in the house. But he'd travel a lot, too. Always looking for new ways to hone his craft and for people or curses to fight. Lived life according to his beliefs."

"Goodness...I never wanted him to be hungry again, but I didn't think...well, at least he never was. It sounds like he lived a life he enjoyed, too. Even from the womb he'd be kicking and punching." Jin giggles and then sighs in relief. "I'm glad..."

"He does seem a bit lonely, though." The curse muses. "Even if he absolutely refuses to admit it."

"He hasn't made one friend in the thousand years he's lived?"

"Not one."

"What?!"

"Well...there was one person, but they're more like a servant."

"M-my god, I…"

"Don't tell me you're feeling responsible…" When Jin tenses, Kenjaku covers his mouth in disbelief. "Don't tell me you were thinking of seeing him again!"

"I-I mean, I'm his brother!"

"Jin, you're insane!"

"I know, I know. I'm not…all there. I never was…" The soft huffs of breath as Jin laughed tickled Kenjaku's neck. "But I can't help it, you know? I just-I care. That much…even after everything."

"Jin…" Kenjaku gently but firmly caresses his lover's face as he forces the other to look at his blank expression. "He ate you."

"And I allowed it! Look, I'm not an idiot okay? I know he's dangerous, b-but...I mean-I should at least-"

"JIN." Kenjaku sighs. "Enough with this! Dangerous is an understatement when it comes to your twin. Just stay here, with me. It's safer with me…"

"…can I at least see my-"

"Nope. No Yuuji, either."

Jin groans and allows himself to fully slump on the curse. "Well…thank you for at least covering half of the payment for his schools. I don't think I could make enough for both his and Dad's bills."

"Ah, yes…the geezer." Jin can hear the venom oozing from the other, and he offers him a sorry pat on the back. "Thanks for not killing Dad, also."

"Anythi-…well, almost anything for you, my dearest."

"Shame we can't do more…" Even without looking at him, Jin can feel the frown on Kenjaku's face. "I hear he's made a few friends already. I'm juuuuuust saying, it would be really nice if we could raise him together. Be a proper family…"

"Oh hush! You and I both know why we can't get too involved."

"Okay, okay!" Jin huffs. "I'll drop it already."

[dutifullylazybread]

hi darcy!!

let's go with ❤️ 🚀 and 📚 <3

Thank you so much for the ask!! 🥰

❤️- What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

I have a few! But out of the ones I have posted, I love this one so much:

"There was so much to say, but she didn’t know how. For all the books of poetry in her possession, for all the love poems she’d read, she didn’t know how to bend her words into a simple confession. She didn’t understand how those poets could find the courage to put pen to paper, nor did she know how they ever managed to braid their affections into ballads. How long did they have to sit with their affections to shape them into something tangible? Something recognizable? Something that, were anyone to read it, they would feel it echo in their hearts and stick in their souls? Something that they knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was love?"

Maybe it's a bit too much purple prose, but I love it so much!

🚀- Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

I kind of do both? For my rough drafts, I want to get a feel for an idea, so I will free write the chapter. However, once I have an idea of what I want to do with the basic concept, I'll sit down and start to outline in earnest. From there, I'll sketch out a second rough draft (which feels more like a first draft). Mostly, I just don't like working with a blank page. So if I have a starting idea, I'm a lot more comfortable with whatever comes next.

📚 - Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Absolutely! :D

I highly recommend @kimberbohwrites, @darkurgetrash, @commander-krios, @lemonsrosesandlavender, @underdark-dreams, @redroomroaving, @sav-not-tav, @graysparrowao3, @reverieblondie, @little-paperboat, @sorceresssundries, and also-- you, @forget-me-maybe <3

(I promise I am not trying to exclude you if you are not on this list! I am so lucky to know so many incredible writers!!)

[raayllum]

what type of princess do you think Rayla might be when she and Callum get married

I don't imagine Rayla will ever hold much of a tangible role at court. Not only would I not be surprised if Callum leaves the high council by the end of the series to pursue teaching magic / more studies in Xadia, we see that this duties are (seemingly) exclusively that of being a High Mage > crown prince.

He's allowed to pursue whatever magical projects he wants regardless of whether they produce applicable results (him researching the mirror for 1.5+? years); he has a welcoming role for political stuff with Ezran's invitation to Zubeia that was 1) established without consulting him or seemingly anyone on said council and 2) Callum doesn't even show up for on time; when Ezran does embark on a potentially risky questing adventure that's all the go ahead Callum personally needs to come with (4x03) even though there's no one else left in line for the throne; when Ezran does embark on something that is strictly political in S5 with his dragon mission, his crownguard, not his brother, go with him *

[ * This is because of technical internal story reasons, of course, with Callum needing to be freed up to go to the Great Bookery, but rather than letting him mill around the library only reading Ocean poetry, they could've had him be acting king in Ezran's absence, or hint at Callum dealing with any political issues while Ez was gone. Instead he decides and is able to leave in the early morning within one (1) night of making the decision to leave with zero fuss from Opeli, and zero reservations from himself, which even Ez had back in 4x03, hesitating to leave his kingdom even upon announcement of a global crisis: "Go with her." "But Katolis needs me." ]

Callum is also only crown prince and heir until Ezran has children (which means probably until Callum's around 30 maximum?) cause then they become the heirs.

All of this to say I think Rayla would be an advisor on the council, probably work with Soren in training the crownguard, do reconnaissance with Corvus when the occasion calls for it, offer a unique Xadian perspective of course, and at more upppity political functions/galas primarily be an ambassador standpoint, but I don't think she'd ever care to be much more than a princess in name and like being Crown Princess even less ("I don't care who's Comma-bore or First Whatsits!" / "'Oh I did what the queen told me and sat on my hands'"). While her position as princess is important and will probably help smooth over Xadian-Katolis relations, I don't think it'd ever be much more than that, and I don't think strict politics will ever be what her and Callum devote their lives to, per se

(But of course, she'll be kind and a lil bit flustered and witty / charismatic if uncouth in her own way wherever she goes, lmao. Princess'ing included)

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “You’ve never been too much for me.”

Song: Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

For Tolya x Reader please!!

Saints Or High Water - Tolya x Reader

Yes. Happy to oblige.

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat and Fear Related To Targeted Violence and Execution, Not Beta or Proof Read, Suggestions Of A Difficult Family Life and Upbringing, Anxiety, Self Doubt, Negative Self View And The Terrifying Fear Of Being Known Loved And Seen.

Does it count as hurt/comfort if you're just being mean to yourself until the very kind shapely man tells you you're worth something?

Just another drabble I guess.

There is good and bad in everything, the universe finds a way to create balance. The Small Science is no exception to that rule. Being Grisha is an extraordinary thing, there's deep beauty in the power The Saints give. But that doesn't mean being Grisha is always easy, and those in the parts less forgiving to Grisha, less understanding, less inclined to see gifts as blessings but as signs of witchcraft or sin, this was ever clear. But even the quieter ways, within oneself being Grisha isn't always easy. A talent is a talent for as long as you nurture it, as you learn it, keep it close and well maintained, but these kinds of talents aren't always easy to tether. They try to teach Grisha young for a reason.

You're sitting on the edge of the deck, and it's one of those days, where being so many miles from shore feels like a blessing, because distancing yourself from land makes everything feel less real. On the Volkvolny the ability to practice The Small Science is admired, under the operation of Sturmhond, on this ship with a crew he had collected, it was usually far more easy to forget the harshness that waits on land. But not today.

Today the waves are not big enough to swallow all the feelings that are raging just underneath the surface, keeping you a safe distance from anyone else on the ship. The wind rushing over the sails, and the all the crashing of water against The Wolf could not drown out the thoughts echoing so loudly within your mind, determined to be heard, demanding to be seen. Thoughts that are taking up more space than you ever would dare to take up at all.

A Heartrender like any Corporalki worth their salt as a Grisha would be able to sense the mood from this distance, and almost all would know when sadness runs this deep and this quiet, that nothing would really help, and likely that help would not be welcomed. At sea, it is generally accepted to let people be with their feelings, the ocean more forgiving than the land. More accepting too.

But Tolya Yul Bataar was not just any Heartrender, and you had long come to know that about him. Not only was the strong giant as poetic as he was stoic, which was a lot, but he was also persistent, in that quiet, gentle way that you had come to know. Never had you known a man who's honour was more evident than his strength and yet stood quite as tall and strong as Tolya.

His approach is slow, gentle, arms crossed as he leans into the post, as if he had no other reason to be there. He probably doesn't, but you don't linger on that thought.

"Come to share some poetry have you Tolya?" You ask against the wind. Maybe he won't hear you, and he will leave you to this quiet sadness once more.

"That wasn't my intention but I am happy to oblige," he smiles and for a moment you forget why you wanted to be alone. Tolya has this way with you, of making you forget even if just for small moments just how cruel the world can be.

You glance as he unfolds his arms, to reach for a small book in his pocket, and you have long forsaken asking him how he managed to keep his skin exposed in such cold conditions as you watch some of the salt spray hit his upper arm and he leans away from the waves to shield the book.

"O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering sea,

And the woman riding high above with bright hair fluttering free,

The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me."

You let him read to you a while, as you watch the way the water turns white as it hits the sides of the ship, wondering if the water wants to be different, something else to what it is and that is why it endlessly tries to throw itself against whatever it passes, desiring to be changed by the impact.

"Those are new," you comment after a while and Tolya smiles and it reaches into those golden eyes and you try not to look too closely. Tolya is something else, and you wonder if you would've stayed here on this ship, with this crew for as long as you have had it not been for him. Never had you known anyone like Tolya, and you doubt you would again, and it was with such certainty of that you held onto his presence and his companionship as deeply as you could, while trying to spare him the overwhelming closeness of knowing you.

"As much as I enjoy you indulging me, I sense that maybe it's less about my passion today and more about what you wish not to say," he says.

For all the time, and all the practice, and all the attempts to keep him far enough away that your mistakes could never end up being his burden, he still sees straight through you like you were glass.

"Today I am the ocean, unreadable and entirely too much," you admit.

You feel the warmth of his presence before you notice him moving closer, his shoulder now pressed to yours as he leans forward on the edge of the gunwale.

“You’ve never been too much for me.”

"And I intend to keep it that way," you say without thinking. Tolya is honest, honest and true in a way that makes you want to be so back. Tolya stands so tall and yet does not cast a conceited shadow, his shade is nothing but comforting. A Grisha, a Heartrender, who would rather use the weapons he practiced and learned to fight with than his blessings. Probably because of his faith, but Saints you'd never stopped to ask.

"You cannot be do much for me," he says quietly. You expect a joke to follow, a comment such as 'you've met Tamar,' but in the absence of his twin, Sturmhond or any other member of crew to joke to, his sentiment is more important than the shielding of it.

You remain silent and that tells him exactly what he thought you might say: you do not know me enough to say that.

"I understand why you do this," he says quietly, "after years of being called a monster, it is easy to believe yourself to be one, and it takes much more to undo such damage than it does to create it. But you are not what those for fear you speak you to be."

His kindness always brings a warmth that no fire could ever come close to bringing. You drag your eyes from the waves and he is watching you, gentle and consistent.

/And I don't want the world to see me/

"I do not always feel that I was gifted, not when I was told I was cursed," you admit. "But it is not me that I am quiet for. I am more concerned about those who must be around me. Those who could be hurt by my monster."

"You are no monster," he says, reaching forward and placing his hand over your own. You expect his hand on yours to feel more rough, more calloused, but all you can feel is the softness of his expression and the tenderness of his words, with the grounding weight of all he means to you. /'Cause I don't think that they'd understand/

"And I know I cannot make this storm pass, but I will wait with you, until it does, we can stand here, and we can say nothing," he says. "And we will wait until it passes, and I will stay here, right beside you."

/When everything's made to be broken/

You lean into him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder and holds you close and for a short moment it all goes quiet.

/I just want you to know who I am/

"What if it doesn't pass?"

"It will, but if it doesn't, I will stay right here."

[kairiscorner]

Could you possibly write hcs for Ben Reilly with a goth, black cat reader who's somewhat of an antihero in his universe? Very chill and introverted to contrast with his dramatic angst self lol

(Love your writing sm, hope all is well :D)

HELLOOOOOO fuck, i love that wHATTT yes please <333 i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

btw, i made some space for ben reilly fics here on my taglist, you can drop your user to be updated on fics i drop about our blonde sweetie o(*≧▽≦)

i think the first time you guys met would be when he would be assigned to contain an anomaly that made its way into his universe, but when he was struggling to beat it, you managed to subdue it almost immediately–and nonchalantly yk, like it's a normal day for you to be taking down villains that have wreaked havoc in your city but in a different font.

"yo, not cool, but... really kinda cool though... who are you?" he'd ask you as you kinda whisk him away from the fallen villain (carrying him bridal style bc that is the only right way to hold my baby boy) "not a friend." you'd reply as you drop him to the ground. "ow. you are... quite the formidable foe, then." "would a foe have saved your blonde ass?" "okay, fair point."

he's been looking forward to seeing you ever since you saved him, trying to one-up you and save you and have you think of him as often as he thought of you after he met you :>

he noticed that you had a pretty goth aesthetic, so he...... he kinda changed his wardrobe to a more black and gray kind of apparel to match with you, or whatever colors you like to use! the point is, he wants, so badly, to match with you <33

he would be patrolling in areas he'd sense you were at and just swing over to you, kinda perch next to you as you watch lounge about, just minding your own business.

"hey..." he'd nudge you as you scoot away from him, with him following you and scooching over to you as you moved away. "i really like your... outfit." "thanks." a silence befalls you two as he thinks of what to say, he's never been this close to anyone before (though you two aren't really that close yet) "you look so... pulchritudinous." he murmurs as you look at him with perplexity in your eyes. "pulchri... what?" "it's a big word that basically means... you look beautiful. i thought you'd like it, um, i mean... i knew you'd like it, i, uh, caught you reading poetry the other... nevermind." he shut himself up before he could continue exposing himself to you.

when he gets a small wound from the villain, he clings on to you and """wails""" about how this is the end of ben reilly! the end of... you two... you push him off you as he asks himself why that didn't work, usually people would love to kiss his booboos :(

when he told you he was admitted into the spider society, he had expected you to be much more proud of him, but seeing you be so chill about it kinda disappointed him. "aren't you proud? i'm with the greats!" "i am, just... i don't know. it'll mean you won't always be here with me, will you?" you ask him with a tone of longing he had never heard come from you before. at that, he immediately wraps his arms around you and SOBS. "BABE I WILL ALWAYS COME BACK, I PROMISE...! I'LL LEAVE THEM IF IT MEANS I WON'T BE WITH YOUUUUUUU......" he sniffles into your shoulder as he cries about the thought of him leaving you for a long while eats away at him. even through your comforting, he's determined to make sure he comes home and stays with you, even if you insist you'll be fine on your own.

[choicesseptemberchallenge2023]

[Masterlist]

Welcome to Choices September Challenge!

Hello everyone! I'm Aura (@midnightmelodiz ). This is my first time hosting this monthly challenge, so I'm really excited about it. I really hope you all will like the prompts chosen for this month.

🍁GUIDELINES🍁

This is a prompt based contest. There's a prompt given for everyday, using which you'll have to create a content. Some days have multiple prompts, and different types of prompts. Feel free to use them all in the same work if you want.

You can use multiple prompt for the same work if the prompts are for same day. Don't mix and match prompts from different days.

Almost all kind of contents are acceptable. List of acceptable contents : fanfictions, drabbles, short-story/one-shot , poetry, microtale, art, mood board, theme, banner or other graphics etc.

Work based on any book from the Choices universe are welcome.

Submitted works will be featured on a weekly masterlist.

You can participate as many times as you want throughout the month.

Multiple entries for the same prompt, or same day prompts are allowed.

If your work contains NSFW/mature or triggering content, please use appropriate warning.

Mention/list the prompt(s) you are using in your content.

If possible, in stories, drabbles etc., write the prompt(s) in bold.

You can use the tag #choicesseptemberchallenge2023 & #choicesmonthlychallenge .

Please tag @choicesseptemberchallenge2023, feel free to tag me too : @midnightmelodiz . You can dm me your entries as well since Tumblr glitches a lot. Honestly I'd prefer if you dm your works, as Tumblr tags don't always work.

If I don't mention your work in the weekly masterlist, please send me a dm with the link.

🍂PROMPTS🍂

🍁 DAY 1 : Memories •||• "I can't be who you want me to be"

🍁 DAY 2 : Stars •||• Two people who keep crossing paths but miss actually meeting.

🍁 DAY 3 : Sea, Ocean •||• "You really like it?" "No, I was kidding."

🍁 DAY 4 : Moonlight, Moon •||• They have been secretly in love with each other for a long time.

🍁 DAY 5 : Diary, Journal, Notebook •||• "We're here now. Everything's alright."

🍁 DAY 6 : Dreams, Day Dream •||• "I'm in love with you!"

🍁 DAY 7 : Hope •||• Sharing something personal about them that they've never shared with anyone before.

🍁 DAY 8 : Coffee, Hot Beverage •||• "Come back! I'm not ready to get up yet. So you aren't either."

🍁 DAY 9 : Date Night •||• "I'm home, sweetheart!"

🍁 DAY 10 : Gift •||• "I care about you. I always will."

🍁 DAY 11 : Travel, Holiday , Vacation •||• Sharing an ice-cream together.

🍁 DAY 12 : Books, Reading, Writing •||• "You and me, it's never going to happen."

🍁 DAY 13 : Flowers •||• "I want to be with you." "I don't."

🍁 DAY 14 : Polaroid, Picture •||• Clicking candid pictures of their S/O to capture the special moments.

🍁 DAY 15 : Childhood, Nostalgia •||• "I love you. It's always going to be you."

🍁 DAY 16 : Cooking, Baking •||• Pretending to date each other to get out of a situation.

🍁 DAY 17 : Picnic •||• "That's all I really need. Some time with just you."

🍁 DAY 18 : Cuddle, Snuggle •||• Taking care of the other when they're sick or feeling low.

🍁 DAY 19 : Museum, Library •||• Picturing a future together even though they know it might never be true.

🍁 DAY 20 : Blue •||• " Are you saying that there's hope? Maybe in the future-" "No."

🍁 DAY 21 : Love, Kiss •||• Sending love letters to the other.

🍁 DAY 22 : Friends, Friendship •||• "It feels like I've known you forever."

🍁 DAY 23 : Fall •||• "I'm seeing someone."

🍁 DAY 24 : Serene •||• "Guess all those romance novel paid off after all, huh?"

🍁 DAY 25 : Secret, Surprise •||• "Is that my shirt?"

🍁 DAY 26 : Chocolate •||• Predicting the other's words or moves.

🍁 DAY 27 : Sunset •||• "Why did I know you would say that?"

🍁 DAY 28 : Wedding •||• "I always knew you would get together someday. What took you two so long?"

🍁 DAY 29 : rêveur, rêveuse •||• " You are all I could ever ask for."

🍁 DAY 30 : Home, Heart •||• "I'm here for you. Always."

**{Credit for most of the dialogue prompts goes to this blog~ @youneedsomeprompts}**

Have fun creating!

[vide0n4sty]

i just read the whole issues with forcemasc scenes and while im agreeing with it, i wanna add my points into it: the scene is heavily white and eurocentric standards focused. like its always about "cutting your hair", not knowing in some cultures, like native american, its a masculine standards to keep a man's hair long. the whole ideas of masculinity has to be rough and shit. you have to have a beard, you have to have fat on, you have to wear this and that. and i remember there were some posts making fun of transmascs wanna be a "twink". like yes i know the existence of conventional beauty standards are harmful, but as long as it made said people happy about their choice and they don't force it into other people, what's the odd? plus this lowkey implying the idea of "you will regret when transition" radfems saying even and it made me cringe. and what about transmasc already had that type of body i thought yall agree on not bodyshame anyone?

do i like forcemasc and the idea of it? yes! but do i like how the community practicing it? i dont. tbh, the only forcemasc post i ever liked is like, something about letting your hair grow and you can wear a dress, you would still be a man

btw you are the only one i trust writing this kink lol no other people could do this justice

i appreciate that a lot, and yeah, i think there are definitely criticisms to be made about how forcemasc positions itself as like. the clean kink as opposed to forcefem, and yet falls back on eurocentric/white centric ideals of masculinity in service of its goal of gender affirmation as opposed to titillation. like if you're going to go into 'shave your head, be a bear' etc., commit to the bit, ya know?

i read this very good essay/post about why forcemasc is largely an obsolete fetish which references "disidentification" (codified by a queer person of colour) as a driving force behind forcefem;

forcefem kind of WORKS because it's a survival tactic, which the original text also connects to being a queer person of colour, taking these absurdly misogynistic and shameful fantasies where Woman is abject, the Othered object of desire (as women so often are in a patriarchal society), and reinterpreting into sexual gratification, gender affirmation, comfort, security, freedom

forcemasc doesn't scratch that same itch because Man (and wanting to be a man) simply is not abject in a patriarchal society, Man is not Othered, Man is not shameful.

and i think the forcemasc boys kind of KNOW THAT, so they have to push it further and lean into. like. eurocentric ideals of masculinity for their lame tboy poetry, as opposed to having a fetish about injecting T and getting a big cock and ooooo you wanna jerk off five times a day, you dumb gross boy, which i think is a little more generic but also a lot more overtly sexual too lmao

IDK!!! FORCEMASC IS A SEX THING. LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY, LOVES AND LAUGHS XOXO

[violetasteracademic]

You’re such a good writer. Have you ever thought of writing a book?

Oh my goodness 🥹 thank you darling anon!!

I've actually written three! Though I have not felt any were ready to undergo the query process. And this year my poetry was published for the first time in a literary magazine, which was absolutely surreal. The few times I've mentioned this info here typically people ask if they can see it or if I could share, and I would soooo love to but this fandom is frankly too scary with doxxing and harassing for me to feel comfortable opening up that part of myself here.

I do think in the fic world especially it can be kind of charming and whimsical to just seem like this incredible writer who doesn't even try, but that is not me 😅 where I am at is the result of a decades long dedication to daily writing practices, multiple novel attempts, and improving my craft through books on structure and taking local workshops without access to higher education for it.

It can be scary to reveal how hard you work in creative spaces- because then what if you don't seem as impressive as you should? But writers have really a bad rap for pretending they don't try at all and everything just *happens* which leads to a lot of insecurity and frustration for new writers who are easily discouraged. So I always want to be really transparent about my journey.

Not that anyone asked but I would like to again take this time to encourage any aspiring writers, fic or otherwise, to just *start* writing anything at all! Putting words together in a meaningful way is a discipline. Even if you are naturally talented, that will fizzle out without practice. So write, write, write, and start today, not when you have an idea for a story. Writing begets writing. Go outside and write about the sky at different intervals throughout the day and you might suddenly walk away with the idea for your first novel!

Anywho, this was very kind. Fic is especially vulnerable because even with a solid amount of practice and discipline, it is essentially just a first draft and lacks a lot of the polish a published book would undergo. So it really means a lot to know you enjoy! When people say a published novel "reads like a fic" I know what they mean 😅 without editors, developers, arc readers, ect, I struggle with a lot of fears and insecurity too. But you guys have been amazing to write for. I felt so supported and encouraged from day one even being brand new to the scene, and it fills my heart with such joy to be a part of this fic community!

Fic writing has been really helping me through a deeply unstable time in my life and I'm so happy to have discovered it. Once I get a little more settled and stable, I'll focus back on original work!

[astarioffsimpmain]

Writer Interview Game

Thanks for the tag, @brabblesblog!!

When did you start writing?

I started writing in fifth grade when one of my favorite teachers I've ever had set a short story assignment, but I didn't truly fall in love with it until sixth grade, when - for a poetry memorization assignment - I discovered a book full of Edgar Allan Poe poems and short stories. I memorized the whole of The Raven for the assignment and pretty much became obsessed with his works. Poe's writing was the spark to my writing flame, and he is my favorite author to this day.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I loooove reading adventure fantasy. I'd love to write adventure fantasy too, but I'm not confident enough in my world building just yet. Eragon, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Inkheart, The Hunger Games, Gothikana, Cirque Du Freak, etc. I love it!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

As previously stated, I would love to emulate Poe. He's my inspiration and pretty much the reason I started writing for more than school assignments. I haven't ever been compared to another writer before, except in the spirit of spite, so I've got nothing there. haha

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Anywhere I feel I can tuck away. I have a spot on my couch with a blanket, my laptop, and a spot for my coffee. I have my multiple soft blankets on my bed and a pillow to prop my Kindle on for ambience and music, and my side table - for my coffee, of course. But I've also written curled up in my seat on a bus driving through the Scottish Highlands, as well as in a corner seat in a hotel lobby in York, England, and in a little bookstore nook in London. I write where I feel inspired, however or whenever that may be.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Mustering it up myself is not often an option for me. My ADHD brain seeks dopamine where it can, but anyone with a dopamine deficiency will tell you that it's not an easy feat. lol But I always feel my most inspired before and during thunderstorms, or when I go to a location that excites me. I love abandoned places, cozy coffee shops, old libraries or bookstores, and castles/cathedrals. They give me a rush of energy which helps propel me to write. Hopefully once I get my physical health sorted, I'll be able to travel more, and therefore write more as well!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want my readers to know just by reading my writing that I come from my heart. Everything I write is a part of and an extension of me, and I put care and consideration into every word that ends up on the page once I publish. I want them to be able to feel that my work is a labor of love in every word.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think scene setting and narration is probably my strength. I'm someone who is very detail-oriented in everything I do, and I tend to do more narration than anything else. Over the years I've been forcing myself to write more dialogue-based pieces just so I could practice getting better at it. So uh... hopefully I eventually do. lol

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm of two minds about it most of the time. When I don't settle into my "writing trance", which is where words are essentially flowing out of me without anything to hinder them, I'm not too fond of it. When I am forced to kind of slug through the words until I have a flow, I usually don't like what comes out or how it sounds, and it takes me much longer. The writing trance happens very rarely, but when it does happen, it's amazing. I usually really enjoy what comes out of those moments.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's definitely a mix of both, because often times I garner inspiration from what others get excited by. I know that when others get excited about what I'm doing, I'm far more likely to be excited about it too, and my excitement is essential to me even hoping to finish something. But on the flip side, I will also write things that I feel like will only mean something to me, but they end up meaning a lot to others as well. I feel as though that's somewhat of the human experience: sharing the things we accomplish through the insistence of our hearts. When we share and are received positively, we are inspired to continue sharing.

~

Tagging, Darlings: @senualothbrok @thechaoticdruid @dark-and-kawaii

[wannastayugly]

Second and final part of this thing I wrote about the Storyteller showing itself to Jaskier as Geralt. TW for hurt character, but they're fine! Thank you very much for such a positive feedback! I'm very insecure about my writing, but I really love putting these little stories in the world and knowing you're enjoying them makes everything better!

-

Jaskier sits on the stool letting out a low groan of pain. He holds his chemise over his lap with both hands and keeps his eyes there, missing the warmth of it as a cold breeze invades the room and touches his exposed injured back.

It's been two months since Jaskier met the Storyteller. Two months of new poetry and ballads he has still not sang to anyone and which are fated to remain only as a collection of words in his notebook, ready to feed the fire.

"Jaskier?" Geralt's voice fills his ears with kindness, and Jaskier looks up as the witcher walks closer and touches his shoulder. He holds a wet towel and a bowl of salve, but Jaskier's attention goes to the blood stains on his black shirt. "Are you alright?"

Jaskier gives an insincere, almost inaudible positive answer and looks away. He remembers the monster's claws hurting his skin and the terror in Geralt's voice when he called his name. The singer had saved the witcher that morning, decided to give his life for him in his foolisher impulsive act of the season. But, together with the pain, Jaskier found a mad and surprising bit of relief when he realized there, again on a bloody floor, that whatever the Storyteller had meant when comparing him to Éile, his story would never follow the same tragic path, for Jaskier would never, in any reality, have the bravery to be the one killing the man he loved instead of letting himself be killed.

"Jaskier."

"Yes! Yes, I am fine." Geralt doesn't buy it. He slips his hand from Jaskier's shoulder to his neck and gives him an unpleased look. He can tell he has a fever by now, although the touch also leaves his cheeks warmer.

Touch. That's something Geralt only offers him every now and then, and Jaskier appreciates the attention now.

While Geralt starts taking care of his wounds, he thinks about the ballads he composed about the bard and her witcher, and how the simple act of writing those two words together in a song made him feel exposed. Every verse of fear, of desire or sorrow, spoke about his own heart. Forbidden to be heard, those words burn in his chest just like the soft touch of Geralt's calloused fingertips do now; like the wood that burned between them during the cold nights among trees and starry skies.

He closes his eyes, wanting to lean into the touch, clutching the fabric in his hands.

"I read your new songs."

The confession comes to wake him up like a bucket of cold water. His blue eyes go wide, his face is molded in shock and the world stops for a second, almost making him wonder if the Storyteller has frozen time again.

"What"

"Some days ago. Didn't mean to." Geralt continues. There's a bit of guilt and discomfort in his voice this time. Done cleaning Jaskier's wounds, he now applies salve to them, lessen the pain; his fingers now travelling the bard's lower back. Jaskier wishes he could still focus on them. "Witchers don't lose control like that. In case you've ever wondered."

"What- shut up"

"The stabbing bit was concerning, though."

"Shut the fuck up!" For Geralt's surprise, Jaskier's tone rises with rage, and, enduring the sharp pain of his damaged flesh, the bard stands up and finally faces him. Geralt stands still, a perfect portrait of regret. He still holds the bowl, unsure about what he should do with it. Now, it's Jaskier's eyes that burn. "You didn't have the right! You weren't- you-"

For a moment, Jaskier's own screams reminds him of their last major fight.

Caingorn.

He remembers letting out a confession when not even him knew what it was. He remembers Geralt's words stabbing him and pushing him away, and how he wished something would come from the woods and eat him alive while he walked down the mountain alone, feeling like he was leaving shards of his heart behind.

"Jaskier, look at me!"

Jaskier doesn't notice the tears rolling down his chin. Panic has now invaded him, bringing all his worst fears into his mind like a sadistic devil and enjoying his shivers when making him travel between all the reasons why he could now lose the little he had and was grateful for.

Not again, he mourns.

Geralt finally leaves the bowl aside and approaches him, too unsettled for a supposed emotionless man. Although the bard takes a step back, he doesn't want to avoid Geralt's closeness. Never really did.

Don't leave me alone again.

"I'm sorry, bard." Geralt's embrace is loose, careful not to touch him on the wrong spots. Jaskier groans in frustration when he sees himself hiding his face on the pale neck of the man who now caresses his hair.

"I didn't want this", Jaskier murmurs.

"I know."

He punches Geralt's chest softly. His eyes shut. Fear now gives space to shame, although he doesn't know exactly what he is ashamed of. I hate you, he thinks. A silly thing to say. Just like the Storyteller, Geralt has already known his truth for a long time.

"I love the fuck out of you, too."

Saying that, Geralt breaks the embrace to cup his face, presses their foreheads together and smiles. Gets lost in the eyes that stare back at him. A love song in blue and golden shades.

It doesn't take much for their lips to meet in an intense, rushed act. Jaskier digs his nails into the other man's skin and every bite, every touch on his exposed skin after that is like a fever dream.

"I should've done this a long time ago" the witcher would whisper breathless into his ear after a while; his hand slipping into Jaskier's now unbuttoned trousers, "right in the first time I heard your heartbeat run. Right in the first time the temperature of your body rose and you smelled like this."

That day, having Geralt with, on, in him; being allowed to taste his sweat, smiling against his lips, feeling his scars under his fingers and laughing of his concerned expressions when he'd touch the wrong places, Jaskier found himself alive for the first time in a long while. And in Geralt's arms, he contemplated in awe his own story, the most fascinating poem he had ever written.