#if you'd actually read this and want it published somewhere give this a like and I'll push myself to be brave and get it on ao3

[izzy-b-hands]

So. I've written a slightly crack fic dethklok x our flag crossover one shot (Dethklok in the Our Flag universe in this case)

I can't decide if I should publish this one, if I do it just on here, or here and ao3 lol

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Beer Boy and Sugar may have spent years apart, but their ten year college reunion proves they have always been part of the same equation. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst. Eventual smut. 18+ only

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

It was kind of funny to you when you thought about it. Everyone from your graduating class was flooding back to the University of Virginia for your class reunion, but you'd been here pretty much every single day for the past six years.

You hadn't planned on ending up right back where you started after graduating from the University of Chicago with your PhD, but things never usually went as you planned.  

"Big ten year reunion for you tomorrow night," said Veronica, your closest friend from work. "Are you excited?" You and she were sitting at a small table in a trendy bar near campus.

You just shrugged and swirled the last sip of your beer around in your pint glass. "Honestly? Not really. I haven't kept in contact with that many people I graduated with, and I probably wouldn't be going if I wasn't already living in town."

You pictured your cute rental house with the crooked fence and crumbling front step. It was only a few blocks from where you had lived your senior year. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun!" Veronica said with a grin. "And if everyone sucks, you can rub it in that you have your PhD from one of the most prestigious programs in the country. And that you were published in Mathematics of Tomorrow when you were only twenty two." 

You laughed. "I think you are overestimating how many people I plan on talking to. Maybe I'll see someone I know, but I'm just going for the free drinks and dinner, and then heading home."

"Yeah, you better head home early! Head home and make a decision for the fall! You are the only person I know who has ever been offered a tenure track at six colleges at once!"

You just waved your hand. "I have it narrowed down to Miami and San Diego. The other offers were kind of bogus, to be honest."

"Either way, you'll be somewhere warmer than Chicago," Veronica said with a shrug.

"I will cheers to that," you said, tipping your nearly empty pint of beer to her nearly empty glass of chardonnay. "Now, I need to run home before I meet this guy John for a second date."

Veronica made a face and shook her head. "That's the most generic name ever. And he sounded boring when you described him."

You just sighed. "Well, he was boring, but giving someone a second chance never hurt anyone."

You waved down your waiter for the check and handed him cash for the drinks. 

"Want to walk out with me?" Veronica asked, checking the time. 

"You go ahead, I'm going to use the ladies' room before I head out. See you on Monday?" 

"I can't wait to hear all about your class reunion!"

You just shook your head and waved over your shoulder as you went to use the restroom. When you finished washing your hands, you glanced in the mirror. You were having such a good hair and makeup day, it was almost a given that you'd look like a clown or a wet dog for the reunion tomorrow night.

You straightened out your short, blue dress and headed for the bar exit. You ducked past a server who was carrying a tray of drinks, almost bumping some of the patrons seated at the bar in the process. 

But as you walked past the guy sitting on the end, you slowed down a little bit. Even from behind, you knew he was going to be handsome. He had broad shoulders and thick, wavy brown hair. Just what you liked. 

Just what you'd loved, actually. Since college.

You tucked your hair behind your ear and glanced at him as you turned toward the door, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

The scars. You knew those scars by heart. You'd touched his cheek and his neck so many times, you'd be able to describe them in your sleep. You'd thought about his face more than you should have. You'd thought about his body next to yours. You'd imagined what could have been.

But now Bradley Bradshaw was right in front of you, leaning his forearms against the bar and watching sports highlights while he played with the label on his beer bottle. 

Only now he was all grown up. 

"Beer Boy?" you asked softly, and he spun in his seat to face you so quickly it made you smile. 

He just gaped at you, his eyes softly searching your face and dipping down as far as your neck before he licked his lips and grinned.

"Sugar."

Your belly swooped, and you were afraid you actually gasped out loud. His voice was even deeper than you remembered. You took a step closer to him, and his grin lit up his eyes. God, you could remember everything with him. Every bittersweet feeling came flooding back.

"I can't believe it's you." A giggle escaped your lips as you spoke, and his grin faltered a bit as his eyes landed on your lips. 

He had a mustache now, and his hair was a little shorter than it was ten years ago. And he was so big and impossibly handsome. 

"It's me," he said, his eyes flicking back up to yours. "And I guess you really are Doctor Sugar now?"

"Yes," you said before you bit your lip, remembering how many times he had called you that. 

He shook his head, and that crooked grin was back. "Chicago was lucky to have you."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as his eyes roamed your face. He looked good. He looked so fucking good. 

"You're still in the Navy?" you managed to ask as you inched ever closer to him. He turned his stool a little more to face you, his legs splayed apart with one hand resting on his thigh.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw these days."

You looked him up and down in his fitted pants and black tee shirt that really hugged his chest and biceps. "I can just picture you in your uniform."

When your gaze settled on his face again, you saw hunger there that had you squeezing your thighs gently together. 

"I wear a flight suit a lot of the time," he said in the raspiest tone you'd ever heard from him.

You pressed your lips together before you whispered, "You're just so much bigger now. You really filled out." 

Part of you recognized that you should be embarrassed at saying that, but it felt like no time had passed at all. It felt like all those years ago you had turned back around, climbed back in bed with him and told him you never wanted to break up, ever.

"Yeah, I guess basic training will do that to a guy," he said casually, but his eyes were making you feel so warm. "Can I buy you a drink, Sugar?"

The fact that nobody had called you Sugar in the past ten years was not lost on you, but nothing had ever felt more right. You had missed him, thought about him frequently, too. Especially during those years you spent in Chicago.

"Yeah," you agreed with a slight nod, praying you weren't about to embarrass yourself. "As long as your girlfriend doesn't mind." He wasn't wearing a ring, but you needed to know for sure. 

He just smirked. "Well, yeah, she would have absolutely minded if I was buying drinks for my beautiful ex-girlfriend. But we broke up two months ago, so I'm single."

"I see," you said, trying to bite back your smile, but you knew he was onto you. 

"So what are you drinking?" he asked, already raising two fingers toward the bartender to get his attention.

"The good beer," you said softly. 

And then Bradley turned toward you with a longing look that reminded you of ten years ago. "You still remember everything, Sugar?" he asked, his brows scrunching together as he took a deep breath and waited for you to answer.

"Everything," you confirmed with a nod. 

"Another beer for you?" the bartender asked Bradley before he turned toward you as well. 

"Make it two. Please," Bradley confirmed, and you shifted a little closer to him. 

When the bartender returned with two bottles, Bradley shifted on his stool to stand.

"Have a seat," he told you, but you placed your hand on his very muscular chest and stopped him.

"No, stay where you are," you told him, pushing him gently back down. When he eased himself back against the stool, you tucked yourself closer so your hip was nudging the inside of his knee. "Is this okay?"

"Yep," he said, quickly grabbing both of the beers and handing you one. "It's okay," he added as his cheeks started to grow pink.

When he shifted around in his seat, his leg rubbed against you, and you needed to start a new conversation to keep from moaning. 

"You're in town for the reunion?" you asked quickly.

"Yeah," he confirmed after taking a sip of beer. "I was in Virginia for work. It made sense to try to stop by. Where are you living these days?"

You laughed, and it seemed to make him more comfortable. "Like six streets over. I'm working at UVA."

"No way," he said with another grin. "You're teaching here?"

"Yeah, but only for another couple of weeks. I'm trying to decide between two tenure positions."

"Which schools?" he asked softly, and you couldn't help but think he kept intentionally bumping you with his knee. 

"University of Miami and San Diego State."

His eyes went wide as he sucked in a short breath. "That's great," he told you, looking at you in awe now. "I still can't believe you teach math to a bunch twenty year old guys."

"Why not?" you asked with a laugh. 

Bradley turned his head to face the bar and took a long drink of beer. He gave you side eye and said, "I would have died if you were my math teacher, Sugar. Trying to teach me calculus, looking like that? Please, I'd have failed the class."

"What? Why?"

"Come on," he said, turning fully back and giving you a playfully annoyed look. "You're just as gorgeous as you were ten years ago. Maybe moreso. I mean...you filled out, too."

Your mouth was hanging open and your heart was pounding erratically. 

"But at least your students don't know about your math tattoo. So I guess they don't have it so bad. Me on the other hand? I wouldn't last a minute in your lecture."

"Bradley," you gasped, but he just kept his eyes on you while he finished his beer.

Your phone started vibrating in your clutch purse which you were gripping tightly in your sweaty hand. You set down your beer and pulled it out to see that John had been texting you.

"Shit," you muttered, and Bradley adjusted himself in his seat again, eyes still on you. 

"You need to go?" he asked, and it sounded like he was dreading the answer. 

"I...just need to send a quick text, actually," you replied, setting your purse down on the bartop and frantically typing back to John. "I'm just going to cancel my plans."

When you lowered your phone and set it down on your purse, he asked you, "Are you seeing someone then?"

"No," you replied quickly. "It was just a second date." You would have canceled plans with anyone to stay here longer. 

Bradley's grin was slowly creeping back. "Did you just cancel a date for me?"

You scoffed playfully. "Yeah, but he was boring anyway."

"That'll never do. Not for you. You deserve the best."

You looked at him carefully, letting your palm rest on his knee. "Is that why I had you?"

"Hmm," he hummed teasingly. "I would assume so." 

You just stood there for a minute, barely moving at all, except for your fingertips moving against his muscular thigh. "I missed you. When I was in Chicago," you whispered, and he was nodding right away.

"I missed you, too. Had a hard time at first. I thought about you a lot."

"I thought about you all the time," you replied, your heartbeat picking up in tempo again. 

Bradley nudged you a little closer with his knee, and you willingly went. "I still think about you sometimes," he whispered.

You sighed softly, and he sat up a little straighter, his face closer to yours. You felt like you could melt against him, if you thought that was a good idea. Which it was not.

A loud group of college students entered the bar and made their way toward the crowded tables, jostling you and bumping your butt in the process. You stepped further into Bradley's personal space to make room, bumping both of his thighs with your hips. 

His sharp intake of breath and slow exhale had you meeting his eyes and withdrawing your hand from the top of his thigh.

"No," he told you, grabbing your hand and then gently pressing it where it had been. You looked down and saw you were standing precariously close to him; if you moved your hand just a little bit, it would be on his zipper. "It's okay," he murmured, bringing his hand to your hip. 

This felt very good.

"I like your mustache," you told him, blurting out the first idiotic thing that came to your mind. Of course you liked it. He looked great with it. You weren't even aware you actually liked facial hair before this moment.

"Thanks," he said softly, and his eyes grew wider as you brought your other hand up to run your fingers along his mustache. His lips parted, but he didn't move otherwise.

"You couldn't grow one of these in college," you told him with a laugh. 

"No," he replied, his lips skimming along your fingertips. "Would have looked ridiculous."

Your soft laughter seemed to spur him on as his huge hand wrapped around your hip and settled on your lower back. 

Oh god, you wanted him. So badly. You needed him. You had never stopped feeling this way about Bradley Bradshaw.

------------------------------

Bradley had often wondered what it would be like to see you again. At first the idea of it haunted him; it was the only thing he wanted, but he figured it was never going to happen. 

Then as he got older, thoughts of you would jump into the forefront of his mind when he least expected it. He always figured you were doing everything you wanted to do. He thought you would be married by now. He was absolutely certain you would have found someone better than him. 

But you made him better. He grew into a man because of you. Every girlfriend he had since you broke his heart should have honestly written you a thank you letter.

But the crazy thing was, Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that he still felt a connection to you right now. His heart was leaping in his chest, elation pouring through his body. 

Your beautiful face was a few inches from his and you were touching his mustache. Your other hand was on his leg, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from guiding you closer with his palm on your lower back. Your gaze was still sharp, and you were just as witty as he remembered. And you were so perfect, he never wanted to stop looking at you.

"Maybe your mustache would have looked ridiculous ten years ago, but it looks good now," you told him. He wanted to kiss you. He thought he was going to, when you added, "You look so handsome."

"You're fucking gorgeous, Sugar," he told you, and he was treated to a radiant smile as your fingers rubbed the end of his mustache and trailed along to the faded scars on his cheek. "You always have been."

You were softly sighing as you examined him. 

"You look like you want to ask me something," he told you, and you nodded the tiniest bit.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a soft laugh. "But I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. Just ask." He would be honest with you, no matter what you asked him.

"When you think about me... what do you think about?"

A montage of images rushed through his mind, and he swallowed hard. Your lips parted with a little gasp like you just knew some of his thoughts on the matter were completely filthy. 

His cock was getting a little hard as he let his mind settle on the first time he got you off. "I think about that study room, Sugar. And how cute you looked in my bathrobe. And I think about how effortlessly you made me want to change my ways."

Bradley started to close the distance between you, and you cupped his cheek as your lips brushed his in the softest kiss.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, nudging his lips with yours again. But you were already pulling away as he was trying to get closer. 

Then you asked, "Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I start thinking about you?"

"Tell me."

You licked your lips before you said, "I think about your Navy desk lamp. And I think about your bedroom door. Nobody else has ever done anything like that for me."

Bradley kissed your lips nudging your nose with his. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Sugar." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and Bradley was absolutely aching for you now. He wanted to take you to his hotel room. He wanted to make you feel so good. 

You had your hand incredibly close to his cock as you looked him in the eye and said, "And when I think about you, Bradley, I think about the fact that nobody else has made me cum as good in the last ten years."

"Shit," he groaned, growing harder by the second as you sighed and moved your hand higher.

Bradley had to take your hand in his to stop you. But it was your wide pupils that had him shifting his right knee so it rubbed against your core. 

You sucked in a deep breath and gasped, gently grinding yourself against him as your eyes drifted closed. 

"Sugar," he groaned. "Please tell me you're coming back to my hotel room."

------------------------

Ahhhh!!!! They are back! Seemingly picking up right where they left off! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 2

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[ghoulphile]

I absolutely love ur fics!! And I want to write fics of my own soon (not for fallout yet..) can u give me any advice/tips? How do u try to write down the characters as accurate as possible?

Aww thank you so much!!

That's awesome, I'm glad you're getting into writing ❤️

I'm more than happy to talk about what works for me; however, no two writers are alike so some things might resonate and some might not.

Take what does, and leave what doesn't.

Read - a lot. Published works, fanfic, poetry, novellas, series, oneshots, longfic; read it all. Explore different genres and storylines. Find what you like about them, and what you dislike. What makes them good or bad in your opinion. Play around with what you'd do differently if it was your story. All of this will help you figure out a few things: one being what you personally like in storytelling, and two the basic structure of storytelling/what makes it compelling.

Find your voice. We all have a unique tone when telling a story, verbally or otherwise. Figuring out what your personal voice is will help you write authentically but also I can guarantee you're going to be 10,000x more happy with what you come up with.

Showing vs telling is a delicate balance. Sometimes things need to be written out plainly, and other times it works better if you add more meat to the sentence. An example would be: she's angry vs her heart rate pulsed in her temples, her fists shaking at her sides as a wave of heat rolled through her body. While they both convey the same thing, one can be more engaging to read over another.

Sometimes you have to write the boring bits - and write them plainly - to further the plot.

Most people are not a walking thesaurus, and using big fancy words like you're writing a dissertation can be very off putting. Absolutely use stronger words if you can, but you don't need to be using furfuraceous to replace scaly.

Additionally, forward momentum: one action should always lead into another which leads into another and so on.

A first draft is never pretty (if you decide to do multiple drafts) and that's okay.

If you get stuck, go back several sentences. Sometimes we write ourselves into a corner without realizing. OR add what you want in brackets and move on if you're getting hung up on certain parts. An example being something like: He was [find word for mix of angry and sad] but had to stiffen his upper lip and move about his day as if [insert phrase mentioning what happened earlier]. Worse case, put it down for a day or so and come back to it later with fresh eyes.

As mad as it makes me, and as hilarious as it is... writing in Comic Sans helps. RIP.

Saying your sentence out loud can help you figure out if something is off, and saying your dialogue out loud can help determine if it's something an actual person would say.

Taking your time and being patient is the best thing you can do for your creativity otherwise you might burn yourself out.

I find music helpful so I create playlists for every fic I write that matches the vibe I'm going for. Additionally, I have pre-writing rituals that help me get into the headspace.

Yes, cryofreeze your darlings - put them somewhere safe for later. You can use those sentences for something else, they don't need to be completely deleted.

As for keeping characters... well, in character, it depends. Watching/listening to/reading whatever media they're in and paying close attention to the words they say + how they say them + if they have any specific phrases, the way they move + their actions + how they react to things helps a lot. Personally, I keep little lists of things I've noticed that I can refer to if I need them. And sometimes, you just have to suspend your disbelief a little and determine how someone might react to the particular situation you've put the character in. When it comes to that, I tend to think back on when I've been in similar situations or have felt the way they should in that scene, and use how I've reacted as a touchstone.

Write what YOU'D want to read.

And most importantly, HAVE FUN.

I hope this helped, nonnie~!!

Happy writing, you've got this 🥰

[gnomishcunning]

could you do nsfw hcs for rolan with a dominant partner? like how would he feel about submitting to someone and would it be nerve wracking or cathartic for him? i love your writing as always ❤️

ik i just published submissive rolan thoughts the other day but i got two anons, so like. please, have some more yall. this man's been floating around in my brainspace alot lately, and i needed to do something about it.

nsfw below the cut, MDNI

rolan's a switch in my mind, but he leans towards being a bratty sub. bdsm isn't a lifestyle dynamic for him, but it's a fun and playful way to flirt and spice up his sex life

submitting is somewhere solidly terribly nerve-wracking and incredibly cathartic for this man: he's been on his feet since Elturel, working himself to the bone- keeping Lia and Cal safe, getting to his apprenticeship, putting up with Lorroakan's bullshit until Tav helps him yeet Larry Pickle out of the tower.

the idea of giving up control is a little bit terrifying, but dear gods, deep down, he's craving the opportunity to just. relax, and give up control. at least for a little bit.

it'd be so nice to be the one who got doted on for once, instead of constantly worrying about others

however, this is rolan, so like. getting him to verbally admit that is a bitch and a half.

a dominant partner would need to be particularly patient, and introduce more and more elements of submission per session, cut through with plenty of sweet ole' regular sex (even if he's bottoming) and reassurance

start slow. just ask him to keep his hands to himself while riding him, either digging into the bed or planted against the headboard. use the opportunity to lavish kisses across his entire body, overwhelm him with praise

hit him with the goodole reverse-dom situation to kickstart his submissive side. be the submissive who insists on servicing their master bc it's their job to make him feel good.

at the right words, probably along the lines of "Let me service you, Master Rolan~" his eyes would squeeze shut, he'd hide his face in the nearest available surface, and whimper as he cums inside you

once you've breached the initial barrier of submission, Rolan's actually a pretty eager submissive - he'll come to you with a lot of different session ideas, and he's willing to try anything at least once. he trusts you, after all

his typical bratty attitude mostly rears its head in the form of his mouth. he's got a special talent for saying the worst possible thing at the most inopportune times, the type of 'tude that's the perfect excuse for a lil funishment.

in my mind, rolan's not a masochist in the slightest (with like, exactly two exceptions to that concept i'll elaborate on later), so you'd wanna get creative with funishments.

overstim is fair game, he enjoys the way it makes his head all fuzzy and the fact he can't speak coherently

edging... might literally drive him insane. he's not a patient man: he can persist insurmountable situations, but when he wants something he wants it. when it's his orgasm? deny him, one-two-three times, use it to build up the tension and the pleasure, but don't needlessly keep it from him.

subdrop is a very notable threat for rolan, so keep an eye on his behavior. if he goes too quiet or it seems like he's retreated too far into his own head, where he's hesitating before speaking? don't be afraid to safeword for the both of you

if rolan seemed needy beforehand, that state-of-mind skyrockets after a session. he's gonna be stuck to your side like a particularly cuddly burr for the remainder of the evening - both in bed, and in the shower

his favorite aftercare activity is probably laying his head on your chest while you read out-loud to him. if you scratch his head and horns at the same time, you'll be treated to a sweet, sweet purr.

[dolconfessionsss]

Hello! I'd like to confess something quite personal.. this would get very long & uncomfortable fast so I really completely understand if you don't publish it! I.. just really wanted to share this somewhere. (TW for rl SA, misogyny & religious trauma)

so I was raised in a very strict religious household in a very hm let's just say a third world country where the mention of feminism (or even sex education and mental health so i never went to therapists about this) is still so very taboo, the belief that "women are worthless if they're not clueless virgins before marriage" is hammered on me since little by my family and teachers, i even developed a phobia of male contact when i was in middle school, bursting to tears when i accidentally bump into a male classmate because I'm so afraid of not being "pure" anymore, i was so horrified that my life would be over if I can't bleed for a hypothetical man that would one day "buy" me with dowry (i'm better now, i still can't look men in the eye though).

When I was in high school i unfortunately went through a traumatic event that troubled my life from all aspects for a couple of years. No where & no one to vent i started turning into explicit fictional media to cope, because at least i have control there, i can always give the characters happy endings, and if things don't go well, it's ultimately not real and won't actually hurt me. I used to be so sex repulsed, after the incident I'm not sure if i developed some sort of (fictional? i can't imagine being intimate w anyone ever irl) hypersexuality or something. So.. you'd expect a game like dol would be super extra triggering for me, but weirdly enough it's.. soothing? It's like, my pc can go through the most unimaginable harrowing shit ever and lose "purity" yet can still have a life, smiling, be loved, develop skills, excelling studies and do big things. It's.. very cathartic... Yes i don't know if the game ever meant to be that inspirational or uplifting, but it somewhat helps me convince myself that I can still do better after all. I apologize if all this sounds ridiculous and stupid, but it's just how i feel.. I'm sorry if there's weird wording. Thank you for reading!

I resonated with you a lot, anon! My background have some similarites growing up, so I can understand what you meant. I think you describe it best, it is very soothing and cathartic. People cope with their trauma is so many different way, and I'm happy to hear that you seemed to have found yours too with this game, anon ❤

[goodluckclove]

hello hello! i saw your post for aspiring writer :p that's me. I used to write a lot growing up and even started a book and was going to get published but life happened ya know. I wrote fanfiction, fiction, and poetry. Life got very messy for me and then I got back into doing music and now i want to write stories as well again. I am a person of multitudes i guess, i want to do so many things at once. Anyway, you don't care about that. I'm writing a story right now and I just need motivation, maybe someone to read the things i write and tell me if it's bad. What services do you provide my friend?

Hi there! First off you should do me the favor of never calling yourself an aspiring writer ever, ever again. I hate that label with a fervor that is frankly unreasonable. You've written. You just told me how much you've written. If you've finished a novel or fanfic or even a fucking poem you are no longer aspiring to write, you're just writing.

But that's besides the point. Uh I don't really offer services so to speak. This definitely isn't a business for me, my business is writing. I just see a lot of people on here struggling to do something they really want to do and I try to help whenever I can. I'm a sort of obsessive writer-type, and people seem to appreciate my enthusiasm, as aggressive as it may be.

I certainly won't read your writing and tell you if it's bad, though. Like holy shit, do people do that? Why do you want that? I've read a lot of people's writings, mainly first drafts, and I've never given it back to a single person and just said "this sucks". If anyone ever reads a first draft like that the proper response ranges somewhere on a scale between "it's supposed to, it's a first draft" and "go fuck yourself". That's so mean and unhelpful and really not the sign of having any respect for the craft or your fellow writers. If I ever was in a room with someone doing that I would probably have to leave to gather my composure before privately pulling aside the writer being "critiqued" and informing them that the person giving their ""constructive feedback"" is, in fact, a dipshit.

The first draft of a project can be as fucking loose as you want it to be. It does not matter if it is not immediately publishable and that's a buckwild standard for a writer to hold themselves to. I post excerpts from my first drafts on here, both to show my process, and also to let people see my typos that come from typing and thinking too fast. All of that is fine. You go back once you're done and tinker around like you're building a car.

You wouldn't look at the engine of a sports car and say "that's a bad sports car" unless you were being ironic or revealing you don't know shit about how cars work. Like yeah, it's a bad sports car, but it's a fucking great engine. It's got all the tubes. I don't know about cars. Either way, you get the skin on (the car skin?) and you'll find it looking a lot closer to what you imagined. It just takes time, and that's okay. It takes time and trusting your own intuition as a writer.

Once again, not an ASPIRING writer. A WRITER. You are a WRITER. No writer here, myself included, is an authority over you and please do not let them be. A lot of the writing advice accounts are run by people that don't actually make their own writing or reading tastes available, meaning you run the risk of being misled by someone you'd otherwise disagree with just because they have an official branding. It's manipulation and a lot of their information lacks nuance or is just blatantly incorrect. But that's a separate sticking point of mine.

Trust yourself. Write your story. If you find it weak or indirect or not truthful to what you're trying to express, that doesn't mean it's bad or that you failed. It just means you have to keep honing your skills and practicing. This is a craft you can spend a lifetime developing and that sounds scary, but once you stop treating every pitfall as a moral failure it's actually really fun and fulfilling. I'm still learning too!

Yeah and if you find you can't write at all, feel free to just jump in my DMs and we can talk about it. That's mainly what I do. I'm pretty good at getting to the nitty gritty of the issue.

[iquirms]

this is from the "Bigger than the whole sky" fic

hello!! sorry to bother out of the blue but i started a Yorak (galra keith) fanfic myself cause i love this boy and i wanted to ask something.

i'm madly in love with the character nikolai and i'd love to add him into my own story (which i may or may not end up publishing on ao3, only time knows) and i just wanted to ask if thats okay (totaly fine if that isn't btw). i'd also like to borrow the names stéig ma’ir, ma-róig rí (they sound extremely klingon and i love that) and zaylee (and nikolai). i'd credit u and your masterpiece of a fic, obviously. thank you so much, huge fan of your work, please continue it and i'll be looking forward to your answer. <3

HELLO!

It is completely okay to take Nikolai and Zaylee and other things from my fic into your own, i so don't mind! Its actually kinda super cool imo that you liked it so much, and be free to take whatever creative action with them as you'd like. If you want to know where i got names such as stéig ma'ir / any other historical Galra business i put in, its actually fairly simple.

I used the Irish language, Gaeilge, since I'm irish and fiddled around with it to what I wanted. Some of them are direct translations into what it means just with a few extra lettera and accents (á that bit on top of the a) and others are completely different words that I thought sounded nicer than what came up for the direct translation. I used my own brain (because I'm fluent) but you can use websites lile focloir.ie or tearma.ie, those should be good ones and they're fairly simple to use- basically just a dictionary.

Thank you for asking and just to reiterate, you can 100% take whatever you want from my fic and put it into yours so long as you don't mind crediting. Let me know when you post it somewhere and I'd love to give it a read, I LOVE Galra Keith fics, especially ones that use Yorak. Much love!!!

[notasimpleslater]

Maybe I'm too trusting but I don't understand why you're convinced that Ethan and Arianna's relationship is over? If there are a ton of sources saying that they're still dating then I'm sure there are. It's not like only one source said that. Some of these sites are pretty gossipy but they still verify their sources before publishing an article. I just get the impression that you'd prefer them to split up and that's why you're seeing it that way, when it seems clear they're still together.

Hey, anon. I have a few reasons why I think this (and I'm not the only one who thinks this either; it's a very popular consensus around the internet right now that they're either broken up already, or will be soon).

Ariana/her team seems like the only priority is protecting her image. A couple of anons here have pointed out that there is a possibility that Ethan was not made aware about the news breaking, which is why his reaction was to private his instagram (because he wasn't prepared). Also the fact that the whole internet has called him every name in the book, insulted everything about his appearance, and Ariana never thought to come on and defend him? Like that one anon said, I'd be mad as hell about that.

Their life styles are too different. Ariana is one of the most famous women in the world, and up until last year Ethan was an actor who wasn't even that well known outside of theater circles. Ethan is probably gonna go back to doing theater, so I really don't see how they're compatible. Also, if Ethan wants to healthily co-parent his son with Lilly, he's gonna need to settle down somewhere (which Ariana won't be able to do if she wants to go back to making music and touring.

The media is trying too hard to convince us they're still together. Just in this past week alone, all the headlines have been like "they're 100% dating" and "they're full steam ahead". Now the new thing is that Ariana is "giving Ethan space" to deal with his divorce, and they're "being mature" to stay respectful to their exes. Like, if they're actually still together, why do they feel the need to tell us over and over? Also, those pics that have been circulating that show "proof" of their relationship don't prove anything 🤷‍♀️

So anyway, if it turns out that they actually are still together, I'm not afraid to come on here and admit that I was wrong. But as of right now all the evidence is saying otherwise. If you haven't already, I invite you to read through all the convos I've been having with the anons, as they've been making a lot of good points and pointing out things I never though of. (also feel free to ask more questions, I'm happy to answer them)

[skyward-floored]

So, I love your incredibles AU, and I may have written a fic about it, but I wanted to get your permission before I post it because it's just my interpretation of one of the scenes from the movie in that AU (the scene where jack-jack fucks up syndrome's entire life, if you're curious). I know you're making your own fic doing the whole movie, so I don't want to step on your toes! I can also send it to you privately in DMs if you'd prefer.

Well for starters I’m extremely flattered you were inspired by my au enough to write your own fic! It makes me happy so many people like the au :)

Secondly, I’ll admit it does feel a liiiittle bit like you’re stepping on my toes. But I think as long as you give me a little credit somewhere, and mention that it’s your own interpretation I’m fine with you publishing it. I’d enjoy reading it actually, so once you put it up I’d love the link!

Just know I’ll have my own version of the scene up at some point, and mine’ll be the “canon” version, but thank you for asking first! I really appreciate it.

[id0ntkn0w0101]

Top 5 Writing Tips for Depressed People

As a certified depressed person. I am not a professional writer, I am just a person who likes to write but am also depressed. These are my tips and tricks for doing better at writing without hating myself

1 - Try to channel every mood into writing.

Wake up in a bad mood because you're pissed at someone? Write about your character being pissed at someone. Depression kicking your ass? Write about your character's mental illness or emotional struggle. Manage to have a rare, good day? Maybe give your character a bit of a reprieve from the conflict and let them have a relaxing day with their friends and/or lover. And if these don't fit into the place you are in in your book, don't worry, because...

2 - Don't force yourself to write linearly.

Don't force yourself to write according to a strict "this then that then this then that" timeline. If you have an idea for a scene at the end of your slow burn romance where the two characters finally kiss, then write that scene. Writing is always going to be easier if you write what you want to write when you want to write it instead of just hoping it'll be there when its finally time for that scene to pop up. I know I can never remember scene ideas, even if I outline them beforehand. My "scene plans" end up being so elaborate so I don't forget anything that I basically end up writing the actual scene anyway.

3 - Lower your expectations for your first draft.

Don't expect your first draft to make your writing sound like a finished book you'd pick up at Barnes&Noble. The books there are likely, at minimum, a 3rd draft. Most bigger authors who work with a publisher even have an editor that reads over everything and recommends corrections. A huge part of the writing process isn't even writing, it's rewriting. It's realizing, "Wait this line of dialogue seems really similar to that one my favorite author wrote, I should change it." or "Wait her hair was brown in the last scene and now its blonde. Does she dye her hair a lot like Ramona Flowers or do I need to correct it." The goal when writing is not to write in a "them" way. That is, writing in a similar style to authors you like. Every writer, whether a seasoned NaNoWriMo veteran or a middle schooler with a dream, has their own writing voice and style. You can, of course, take inspiration from another writer's style, but if you completely try to change your own, your writing will feel hollow and manufactured rather than alive and full.

4 - Know yourself!

Every person is different, and depressed people still fit in that category. Know if you are the kind of person that functions better if you schedule time every day to do something, or if you work better when you just let yourself do things in their own time. Apply that knowledge to your writing. I, for instance, work better if I write as soon as I have the idea, so planning time out to try to write won't work for me because I'll be hit with Blank Screen syndrome. However, I also have a tendency to get stuck in my own head and need to force myself to at least try to write every single day. Know who you are and how you function best, because nobody is going to tell you for you.

5 - Don't reread stuff until you get to a good stopping point.

Unless you just forget a character's name or appearance or something, don't reread your work until, bare minimum, you get to the end of that section of the book. I guarantee if you do, you will hate a lot of it and just end up starting over. If you can avoid it, don't even reread it until you finish the first draft or are lightly editing it to post somewhere like I do. Even then, I just turn on spell check or grammar check and click through it correcting mistakes I made without really reading the words around them. If you focus too much on what you've already written, you'll get too tied up in editing things and you won't ever get new words and scenes on the page. If, like me, you have a tendency to forget little things about fantasy mechanics or character or setting appearances, write down little blurbs about those things in a seperate document or in your notes app and come back to it later on when you need a reminder. Your notes don't need to be perfectly written, so you won't be too bothered with editing them.

I hope you all enjoyed this list and hopefully get some clarity or inspiration from it. If anyone has any other tips, please share them. If you'd like to read my own writing, I have my current WIP FIRST DRAFT posted both on this tumblr and on ao3 called Of Dreams and Fury. Have a great day!

[thisismysecondrodeo]

"This Means The World To Me" - A Jason Sudeikis x Reader Fanfic

You're an author of a hit book and your agent surprises you by asking you what celebrity you'd love to come to your book signing. Jason Sudeikis surprises you by actually showing up. But is it just a nice celebrity doing a nice thing or is it something more?

Inspired by @idkthisisjustforfanfic 's "Not a Date"—very different but their fic was the first Jason x Reader fic I ever read and it was so good I just had to try my hand!

wc: 2.8K

Story Page | Story Tag

Part 1

When you published your first novel it didn’t perform spectacularly but it was fairly well received and just getting it out there felt like releasing a breath you’d been holding for 25 years. Despite not being a beststeller, it set you up nicely for your second book, with an agent, a book tour, and rumors of a movie deal—the whole 9 yards. You had hit your stride, and this book was award material, award-nominated in fact. Your agent, Sasha, couldn’t be more proud of you and she reminded you constantly, less in a professional way and more in a way that reflected the friendship that had quickly grown between the two of you. 

A few weeks before the book tour kicked off, you were sitting down to breakfast when you got a Facetime from Sasha and you picked it up with a grin, expecting her to grill you about your latest Tinder date. She did, but she also asked you something that you weren’t expecting. 

“Sooo, as your agent and friend, I want this tour to be really special for you and I’m hoping I might be able to pull some strings to make that happen.”

“I mean, its a book tour, I think that’s as special as it gets,” you laughed.

Sasha rolled her eyes, “Y/N, you’re going to have to get used to people wanting to do cool shit for you, pull strings on fancy dinner reservation, go to cool parties…”

“I wasn’t aware authors threw ‘cool’ parties.”

“Well, they don’t but when this movie deal closes—”

“IF,” you interrupt, “IF this movie deal closes.” 

Sasha just shrugged and continued, “THEN you’ll go to the cool parties.” 

“Alright, alright I hear you. So, what kind of strings are you thinking of pulling to make this tour particularly special?” 

Sasha’s face was giddy with excitement now that the conversation was back on track, and clapped her hands together as she spoke, gold hoops swinging enthusiastically. “If you could have one celebrity read your book who would it—”

“Jason Sudeikis,” you responded, not even letting her finish the question. The things you would do to meet that man….if Sasha could make that happen you might pass out at just the thought. Knowing that he knew who you were would be enough to get you lightheaded. 

Sasha nearly cackled. “Oh miss ‘its already special, don’t pull strings’ had no hesitation, huh? You sure not someone younger, Michael B. Jordan? Zendaya?” 

“Oh I’m sure,” you smiled, twisting one of you dark curls around your finger in thought, “I have had a crush on that man since I was 14 reblogging my Tumblr crushes.”

Sasha laughed again, softer this time, and just shook her. “Okay well, no promises. Celebrities don’t typically read the books they get sent, but I figured I’d ask around give it a shot and also invite them to a stop on the tour.” 

“Which stop?”

“It’ll be a surprise,” Sasha winked. “I’m not even going to tell you if he responds until the end of the tour.” 

“Ohhhh Sasha, you are the sweetest, cruelest friend/manager a girl could ask for.”

The two of you chat business for a while longer and then end the call, your thoughts already running wild with the idea that Jason could be out there somewhere, holding your book in his hands. Who are you kidding, there’s no way that man has time to read. But you can’t get the image out of your head as you climb into the shower and if you stayed in there a little longer than usual, let your hand trail a little further than normal, well, there was no one there to call you out on it. 

-

Your hometown independent bookstore was the last stop on the book tour and you were thrilled. It had been a couple months of travel, meeting people that told you beautiful things about your writing, that said wonderful things about you. Dinners with Sasha and old friends you hadn’t seen in years, a stop by your parents local bookstore so they could see you living one of your oldest dreams. It was so much wonderful hustle and bustle that you had mostly forgotten about Sasha inviting Jason Sudeikis to a signing. When you did remember, you assumed if it was going to happen it would happen in New York and when that came and went, you shrugged it off and let it go. There were enough other things going on to fill your mind than ludicrous dreams of meeting your celebrity crush. Like, the fact that movie deal deliberation were still ongoing which worried you through the night. Sasha reassured you that if one studio pulled out, another would be interested, not the end of the world, but you were on edge regardless. Being home, at your local bookstore where you’d invited all your friends to come support you, helped take some of the weight off your shoulder, relieve some of the tension creases between your eyebrows. 

It was just the fun, party atmosphere you were hoping for. Hugs and laughs, food and drink, and finally your friends settled down just enough for you to actually do your author interview. The questions were complimentary and playful and it was fun to take yourself seriously while also admitting, that ‘no, you didn’t think about the character that hard’ or ‘yes, your brother did point out a plot hole that your editor missed.’ Everything was about to wrap so you could get to the signing portion of the evening, you were already flexing your fingers in anticipation, thinking of the silly things you could write to your friends who lovingly showed up and bought copies. The young event manager interviewing you looked at you with a slight smirk as she tee’d up her final question. 

“So, Y/N, I was speaking with your agent Sasha backstage,” the woman inclined her head to Sasha sitting at the end of the first row, and you gave her a little wave. She didn’t go to all of the tour stops, so it was nice to see your friend here, and you were excited to be able to thank her for all her hard work now that the tour was over.  “And she said she asked you what one celebrity you’d like to receive your book and an invite to a book signing, who did you invite? Were they able to make it out?”

You ducked your head slightly, shielding the bashful pink tinge that now covered your brown cheeks as you giggled, embarrassed. “Oh jesus,” you laughed, “well considering how many people here know me so well I think the audience can probably answer that themselves.” You gesture broadly to the crowd and hear your good friends yell out, “Jason Sudeikis!” and a couple people add “Ted Lassooooooo” like a football chant. You grin and nod. “You know it! But no he hasn’t been to a signing, Sasha told me she wouldn’t tell me if he even responded or not until the tour was over as a “fun” surprise.” You used airquotes around the word fun and the audience chuckled. 

The interviewer tutted with disappointment, “Well that’s too bad, since this is the last stop. Sasha, is it time for the big reveal? Did he get the book?”

“Oh I think I can take that one,” a deep voice answered as a man stood up from a chair in the very back row and the crowd began to cheer. It was unmistakably Jason. His dark brown hair neatly combed, but not as formal as his Ted look, in a charcoal henley and jeans, with his glasses hanging down the front of his shirt. He grinned at you and saluted, touching two fingers to his forehead in greeting. Tears pricked your eyes and you pressed a hand to your chest, as everyone turned to see what you were going to say. 

“Oh, fuuuck me, Jesus Christ.” 

You slid down in your chair as you said it and hid your face. You didn’t mean it in a sexual way, in fact in came out angry, the way it would if someone had just popped around a corner and scared you but your heart still raced at the idea that he might take it as an offer. The crowd roared with laughter, and you quickly apologized. 

“Oh shit,” you covered your mouth, trying to stop cursing, “I’m so sorry… I just… I can’t—what the fuck.”

Jason gave you a genuine laugh as you tried to get your words together, but of course you couldn’t when he was…here…looking like…that. “Jason I can’t begin to tell you what it means to me that you’re here, in my hometown of all places, at my invitation. You…you’re an inspiration to me I hope you know that, truly.” Jason looked touched, his eyes a little glassy at your kind words. “I don’t even care if you read the fucking book,” you said, seriously, but that got another genuine laugh, one that seemed to really come from his belly. 

“Let me tell you,“ Jason started, also getting serious, “I did, in fact read the book. In fact I read it and recommended it to everyone I spoke to. It is…a revelation. You have a bonafide way with words that I just… wow. Excellent. Thank you very much for this invitation, Y/N.”

And now you were crying, you couldn’t help it. Not just the wonderful compliments but your name coming from his mouth was simply overwhelming. You stood from your seat, not sure if this was allowed, forgetting the audience was even there, forgetting to be embarrassed. The world shrunk to the size of you and Jason as you made your way towards him. 

“Can I hug you,” you asked quietly when you were close enough that you could be heard without a mic and then you were wrapped up in his arms, his head well above yours, you hands settling in the middle of his back feeling warm and happy and floaty like you were actually high and this was all just an elaborate dream. His cologne smelled strong and a little spicy, and you didn’t want to let go until someone wolf whistled and you were stepping back. To your surprise, he reached his broad hand towards your face and wiped a still falling tear with his thumb, beaming at you with a mix of amusement and care.

You took a quick break before the signing to settle the shakiness in your hands and the rapid beat of your heart. Sasha found you in the back room and you held her so tightly she joked that she would pop. 

“How did you do this?! This is crazy!” 

“Turns out I knew his assistant, James. He didn’t make any promises but, well the stars aligned.”

“Met him on a dating app?” 

“Oh you know it,” Sasha laughed. She had a ‘guy she met on a dating app’ for nearly every situation. Car repair, plumbing, discount at the Apple store, you name it. 

“Thank you. Seriously. What a way to end this tour. Just wish I had gotten some pictures.”

“Eh,” Sasha waved her hand, “the photographers will have gotten something better than a shitty iPhone photo anyway. Better go get to signing so we can partyyyyy.” Sasha started dancing with no music but the way she was grooving it was easy to imagine the Doja Cat playing in her head. You laughed and led the way to the signing table. 

Jason was the only thing on your mind as you signed. Your heart swelled everytime you pictured him standing with your book in his hand, and the feeling of his thumb swiping away a tear sent shivers down your spine. But it was easy enough to set aside the more risque thoughts as you signed your name and wrote silly messages to you friends and fans, as slow going as it was. You had been signing and chatting for nearly an hour and the line was dwindling when you looked up and saw him near the end and your heart thudded hard in your chest. 

The motherfucker winked at you. 

The next 5 signatures were shaky as you tried to think about anything other than the fact that this man, this very handsome, sweet, funny man who had any number of better things to do had stood in line for 45 minutes and was about to talk to you again. You were looking at the table as his long fingers slid a copy of your book in front of you. You picked up the book and noticed the spine was a little cracked and some of the pages were dogeared, one corner slightly crumpled. This was not a book that had just been picked up off the shelf tonight. You met his gaze and you swore his eyes twinkled. 

“I can’t believe you're still here. I mean, you stayed for a signing.” Fuck, Y/N get it together and stop stating the obvious. Jason smiled. 

“I wasn’t kidding about loving the book. Of course I want my copy signed. And, you know, maybe a chance to talk to the author 1:1, throw around some of my celebrity to get a private talk.” 

He wasn’t flirting. Of course he wasn’t flirting, but god the innuendo of private talk sent a rush through you. 

“Well,” you said, flipping open the cover of his book and trying like hell to think of something loving and witty to write that encompassed every emotion you were feeling at the moment, “I think that can be arranged. Though I will say, we might have to talk about how you treat your literature.” You gesture to the dogeared pages, and Jason rubbed the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. 

“When I’m really into a book it gets, well, a little aggressive.” 

You laughed as you thought about the quick retorts that came to mind, but obviously you couldn’t respond the way you wanted to…except why couldn’t you? He came to see you, he obviously knew how you felt, why hold back when you only get to meet him once?

“Obviously you like it rough,” his head whipped up and met your gaze. Was he…blushing? “Reading that is,” you finished with a small smirk. You were being obvious and not even very sexy but now that you had regained a little bit of your self-respect you were ready to give it all up again to make him laugh.

Jason laughed and took back his book, without reading the inscription. You were thankful because you couldn’t think of much to say. You decided to be honest and wrote simply, The fact that you read this means the world to me - Y/N. 

You signed books for the last of the line and then made your way to your friends to celebrate the end of a wonderful tour. And there was Jason, talking to Sasha and your friend Willa like they went way back. As you joined the group, Willa looked at you with a grin so large you knew her face must hurt. You knew she wanted to squeal about Jason, but considering he was standing right there in the group that wasn’t an option at all. 

“So, Jason was telling us he had a bit of a surprise for you,” Willa said, her voice dripping with implication. 

“Is that right, Mr. Sudeikis?” You felt cool and confident and flirty and you could see that both Willa and Sasha were a little taken aback with your change in attitude, but you just waited for Jason’s response as his eyebrows crept towards his hairline in surprise and amusement. 

“Are you actually calling me Mr. Sudeikis because I’m an old man or—”

“I’m doing a bit, old man, come on, keep up,” you laughed and so did he. 

“Well Y/N I don’t know if you know but I’m a bit of a football, well soccer, fan,” you rolled your eyes, obviously you had seen Ted Lasso many times over, “and I have a couple tickets to a local match tomorrow. Was hoping you’d be my tour guide, if you’re free.” 

Your confident facade cracked just a little. You weren’t just going to meet him once, you were going to a soccer game with him. You obviously wouldn’t go as far as to say it was a date…

“It’s a date,” you responded and he smiled broadly. 

“Alright well, I’ll send you the tickets and meet you at the stadium?” You nodded wanting to ask a million follow up questions but not wanting to seem anxious at all. And with that he opened his arms, as casually as if the two of you had been hugging for years. You fell into him with ease and he said a quiet goodnight before tucking his book under his arm and leaving with James. He was probably still within ear range when Willa squealed and started jumping up and down, but you weren’t nearly as embarrassed as you should have been. 

You were going to see him tomorrow. 

AN: This is the first fanfiction I've ever written and I'm normally really weird about RPF, but I'm too obsessed with Jason rn it's insane. If people are into it I'll keep it going! I have one more chapter written right now but a decent idea of where the story's headed. Thanks for reading!

[strangevoyages]

Heya!! LOVED your book!!!!!!! I know you’re quite busy, but (if/when you have time ofc) I wanted to ask if you had any advice for how to get a short story published?? Especially if you’ve never had anything published before??? Or if you’re too busy are there any particularly good sources that give an overview of the process??

I hope you have a wonderful day!!! 💖

Hi there, thanks so much for your question and for the kind words; I’m so glad you enjoyed the book! It's been a while since I gave writing advice on this blog, but I figured I'd give a quick rundown on the short story process while I can!

So, in the briefest terms, the road to publishing short stories usually goes like this:

Write your story.

Edit your story.

Pick 5-10 prospective publications you'd want your story to be published in, ordering them by preference.

Write a cover letter template for your story: there's lots of advice for this online, and I wrote up a "best practices" for writing cover letters and submitting stories here.

Review the submission guidelines for the first 1-3 publications on your list. They'll always be found somewhere on the website for that publication; if you can't find it by navigating their site, just Google "______ submissions," "New Yorker submissions," "Atlantic submissions," etc.

Follow those submission guidelines to the letter. If one publication asks for your manuscript in 12-point Times New Roman font and the other one only accepts 10-point Courier, follow those instructions exactly. If their page limit of up to 20 pages doesn't work for your story, you can either decide to tweak a version of your story for that specific publication (have a master original copy and a "New Yorker" copy) or just save that pub for another story that fits their requirements better down the road. Take it from someone who worked for a lit pub, editors and readers don't play around when it comes to these rules!

Submission guidelines sometimes include what kind or style of fiction the publication is looking for. These aren't exactly hard rules, but just be aware that your rate of success will increase the more your story falls in line with these guidelines. If a publication says they're looking for stories that subvert traditional or expected endings, that's something to consider. It doesn't usually hurt to send in your story, anyway, but publications where your story may not fit exactly what they're looking for should be placed lower on your priority list.

Important: also check to make sure what each publication says about simultaneous submissions, if anything at all. If they say no simultaneous submissions, that means they want to be the only publication you send your story to until they give you a definitive yes or a no; then you can move on to submitting to other publications. The reason why publications do this is because it takes a lot of time for a story to make it through the editorial ladder: five, ten, or a dozen people or more could end up reading your story, arguing passionately for it with their coworkers, fighting for it during meetings, and finally getting it through the slush pile and onto the final desk it needs to be on to be published in their prestigious magazine. They don't want to call you with the good news and find out that, oops, sorry, the story's actually been taken by someone else in the meantime! That's a lot of time and manpower wasted when it could have been spent on a story that will actually be published by them, so for the publications that specify no simultaneous submissions, they really mean it. In theory, no one will probably find out if you do it anyway, but if/when you do happen to get caught, it's extremely awkward and can be damaging for your reputation when it comes to publishing in the future. You certainly will be blacklisted at that particular publication, and it's just considered bad practice throughout the industry, so I'd advise against it.

Depending on how your list is ordered, you can either choose to wait for that one top publication to get back to you (if they don't allow simultaneous submissions), or you can just pick out all the ones that do allow simultaneous submissions and send out your story to those first. This second option usually saves time, so it just depends on how strongly you feel about each individual publication! If you really have your heart set on a top-tier publication that doesn't accept simultaneous submissions, you should do that one first before working your way down the list; or if you'd be happy to see your story anywhere and don't have a strong preference, focus on the simultaneous submissions first!

Edit your story one last time. Make sure it's pristine!

Tweak or customize your cover letter accordingly for each publication. Usually this just involves changing the names and addresses, but if you're particularly familiar with any pub in particular, drop a line about a story from a previous edition or an editor whose work you really enjoyed.

Send your work out with its cover letter and wait for a response!

Rinse and repeat until you get a yes!

That's the rough process of how getting short stories published goes. As for advice for unpublished or new writers, I'd say:

Start with smaller or indie publications and presses. It is possible to be published in places like the New Yorker, the Atlantic, and others as a first-timer, but having credentials under your belt (writing awards, previous publications) gets you a lot farther, especially because their "slush piles" are so much larger than other presses. So, publishing with smaller indie mags first and building up your portfolio will increase your chances when it comes to eventually publishing with the big guys, if that's your aim.

Especially look for publications that are seeking "emerging writers" and "new voices"--these are specifically for writers who haven't had their stories or poetry published before, so these are great platforms and opportunities to use while you can!

Local publications in your area are great too! Check out prominent coffee shops that host things like open mic nights and poetry slams; they'll sometimes have a few booklets of locally-printed fiction or poetry collections from right in your area! Also check the universities and colleges in your hometown: although a few are for student submissions only, a surprising number are open to all and will read work from all over the world! Don't let their affiliation with a university intimidate you from submitting: many well-known presses and lauded fiction publications (even the ones that don't have 'So-and-so University' in their titles) actually come from academic circles, and many don't even realize it! For example, EPOCH is actually run by Cornell University faculty and grad students, and The Antioch Review (one of the 8 hardest-to-get-in fiction journals in the US!) is run out of Antioch College, Ohio, though many people never make the connection! Student-run or university-run presses are a fantastic and accessible resource to publish with!

You can also submit to writing contests, whether local or national! Even placing as a finalist, semi-finalist, or honorable mention is an incredible achievement and definitely worth putting in your cover letters, so this is a great way to build experience and sometimes even receive feedback from experienced judges, depending on the contest!

Start reading short fiction publications and magazines if you don't already, especially the ones you might want to submit to. This will give you a great feel for what kinds of stories are getting published, and it will polish and sharpen your own skills and creative senses. If you're not sure where to start, libraries usually have a good section for fiction anthologies and reviews, even if they're from years past! Online presses and reviews are great for this, too, though some require paid subscriptions!

Many literary reviews are genre-specific, so do your research! If you're a horror writer, LampLight Magazine is a big name in that field, and probably more valuable for you to submit to than something that does more general fiction like The Paris Review. For sci-fi or fantasy writers, Strange Horizons or Fantasy and Science Fiction are like the Academy Awards for those specific genres--so don't feel the need to be boxed into any one thing, there's something out there for every type of story!

Use submittable.com. This is probably the biggest, most valuable tool for writers submitting stories in the world, and it's very easy to use. You just create an account, upload your story, and then use the "Discover" tool to find publications with "open calls" for submissions that fit your criteria. It looks like this!

As you can see, these publications are organized by deadline, using the search word "fiction" (or try "horror," "poetry," "romance," "queer writers," what have you), and you can use additional filters like "no deadlines," etc. On the right side, you can save the publications you want to look at later as bookmarks. Also note that some publications have reading fees, as you can also see on the right side! This is becoming increasingly more normalized for print publications as the cost of print rises and the number of people paying print subscriptions declines. It's up to you if you want to want to take that out as a criterion: online magazines and pubs shouldn't usually charge reading fees, but things may have changed as a result of COVID! Showing publications with "no reading fees" is also an option on Submittable, too!

Also note that some publications will also pay you for your story, usually by word, by page, or as a flat fee! That's a whole other thing to get into in another post, but be aware that the more handsome the stipend, the harder that magazine is to get into!

Last but not least, be aware that the submission process takes both patience and grit. Some magazines will take months to get back to you; I once got a letter back from a lit mag I'd submitted to after two years, lol (and the letter was still a rejection, lmao! 😭). This is unfortunately a part of the process, though you can minimize your waiting time by picking magazines that specifically promise "guaranteed responses" in a week, 24 hours, what have you. But for many heavy-hitters, they are just inundated with a lot of writing daily, so it will take them a long time to get to you. Try and prepare yourself for this and sit in for the long haul, if you can!

And probably most importantly, remember this: great fiction pieces are rejected all the time simply because of the finite amount of space in each publication. Sometimes a piece can be absolutely perfect, and it still may be rejected for reasons completely out of your control. The editor who read it could have been having a crappy day. It wasn't right for that month's theme. It was absolutely amazing and agonizing to reject, but there just happened to be another story that resonated with someone just a little bit more at that time and place--and that could be a completely personal, subjective thing. Do not take rejection personally, or as a reflection of your writing skills, your future chances, who you are as a writer, or any of that. It's not a failure: it's just a natural result of the industry. Keep going and don't be discouraged! You never know when something amazing will happen!

I hope that's helpful, and not completely overwhelming to read! And good luck, if you decide to embark on the submissions journey! I'm rooting for you! ⭐️

[autistic-dream]

Darling, I am a Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream

The Corinthian x Journalist!Reader

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Fandom: The Sandman

Plot: You are a Journalist writing about the recent murders committed by the Corinthian. While at a diner a well dressed man with sunglasses interrupts. He tells you that he has information on The Corinthian and you agree to go on a walk You realize too little too late who he is.

Warnings: This does not have a happy ending.

A/N: Just felt like writing some genuine angst

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You sit in the little diner typing away on your laptop. You're focused, you have a deadline you have too meet. The waitress stops by interrupting your thought.

"You would like refill y/n?" she asks. You don't look away from your screen when you answer.

"Yes that would be wonderful." you reply. She tops your cup off before heading over to the next customer. You pick up the mug blowing off the steam before taking a sip. You'd been publishing articles and updating your blog about the most recent Corinthian killings.

There were so many theories out there. So many blogs, podcasts and articles. It was something the true crime community had never seen before a serial killer who hadn't been caught. Who was more than one person, and those people had kept the same consistency throughout all these years that it was almost like it was the same person. He was like Jack the Ripper. No one knew his identity.

Ding

The little bell on the front door rings out. Alerting everyone to the presence of a new comer. You don't bother looking, it's probably one of the regulars. You put your earbuds back in pressing play on the podcast you are listening to.

You are using it as a source for your article.

One of the things about you is that you don't like to be perceived. So you are very aware when someone is watching you. You glance over to the man walking up to your table.

He is well dressed and wearing dark circular sunglasses. He leans down looking at you. You pause the podcast and take your earbuds out.

"Can I help you?" you ask.

"I believe you can," he smiles. You can't quite place his accent. It's southern you know that. But you aren't sure where in the south he's from.

"I am busy." you say

"You're y/n right?" he asks. "I have read your articles, and I follow your blog."

"So you are a fan?" you ask. There are a few people who actually know that you are the mastermind behind the famous blog 'Live or Die', so it was rather odd to run into someone who actually knew your face.

"You could say that." he says. "I actually have some information on The Corinthian if you would like to hear it." he says.

"I am listening."

"I would prefer if we talked somewhere else." he says.

"You don't want to be seen with me?"

"More like I don't want anyone eavesdropping. I have information that no one else has. And since you are my favorite journalist. I want to give you the first take."

Your interest is peaked down. What does this man have that no one else does?

"Why me?"

"The way that you paint The Corinthian with your words. It's the best I have ever read. And I have read them all."

"Sounds like you are trying to inflate my ego."

"Little flattery never hurt anyone."

"Alright." you say. You make sure your document is saved before putting your laptop away. "I will hear you out."

"Thank you." he says. You leave some money on the table for the coffee before getting up and leaving the diner with him. You walk with him.

"So tell me then. What information do you have?"

"Why the eyes. Its what you want to know. Isn't it?"

"More so I want to know why he does with them. I know why."

"Do you?" he says "Tell me why?"

"He doesn't feel seen." you say. "That's actually what I am writing my article about."

"Is it?" he sits down on a bench. He gestures for you to sit down. You do.

"Yes. I mean why else would he go for the eyes?" you ask. "He doesn't feel seen. And this is his way of saying so. I mean at least for the current corinthian. I can't really speak for the others."

"Current Corinthian," he chuckles shaking his head. "Why does everyone assume its different people."

"Humans don't live for that long..." you say. You are suddenly very aware that the two of you are alone. "I mean some people think its the same person. They can't really explain you know how. But anything is possible if you think about that weird sleeping sickness that happened in the early 1900s"

"Yeah." he puts his arm around you. "I must confess I have ulterior motives for bring you out here." he smiles.

"Oh?" that smile of his. "Really?"

"Let me let you in on a little secret. I don't take the eyes because I don't feel seen. I take the eyes because I find that they hold all of someone's humanity." he smiles. You didn't know why you didn't see it before. "You have really beautiful eyes." he tilts your chin towards him.

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A woman dressed all in black walks up to you. She gives you a soft smile. She has an ank around her necklace.

"Hello," she says.

"Oh." you say. "Fuck."

"Come on." she extends her hand out to you. She gives The Corinthian a disappointed look.

He just gives her a smile as he cleans off his blade. You take her hand and leave.

[whistle-free]

it's a shame that your posts don't have more traction. you're the only blog i could find that talks about this whole case objectively by simply looking at the evidence. unfortunately the posts with thousands of notes are spreading so much misinformation and people are just running with it. it's gotten even worse with the unsealed documents. i haven't seen a single post mentioning whitney heard telling jennifer howell that amber cut johnny's finger off yet there are so many posts with a lot of traction talking about the revenge p*rn jd suppodedly wanted to use against amber in the trial. it's very evident that most people don't understand these legal documents since there's a reason a lot of these claims didn't make it into the actual trial. either way this has already gotten too long but it's just so frustrating and i simply wanted to thank you for all the research and work you're doing.

That's actually why I made this blog, as I also couldn't find other blogs doing so, and actually I'm afraid that's also likely why this blog doesn't get more traction.

You see, people are more likely to spread reactionary content, as it's just more interesting. They like to see information that already confirms their biases because it's satisfying to see something and be like "See! I KNEW I was right!"

When the truth actually lies somewhere in the middle, it's not quite as satisfying, and people are less likely to share it around as it just isn't going to appear as interesting or scratch that bias itch.

As for the content that does clear up information in favor of one side or another, I believe it's because people just don't want to sit and read something that's longer, and that would likely be my fault for the way I've presented it. I understand it can be boring to most.

I've been trying to think of a way to present the information in a way that's both factual and interesting, but I'm not sure how to do it without having to resort to giving it that reactionary spin, which is what I was trying to avoid with this blog for the sole reason that, regardless of if something is true and backed up with sources, if you present it in a reactionary way (especially if it swings more in favor of one side than the other) the supporters of the opposition just will not hear it because it's presented in a way that's attacking them, and that's what I want to avoid because it doesn't help anyone.

I agree with you that most people aren't understanding the legal documents, but more so because most every article is cherry-picking and piecemealing together information that they've taken from other articles over and over, all without having anyone actually read those documents before publishing their articles.

So, both sides (though admittedly I've mostly seen it coming from one at the moment) are going to latch onto whatever they can that supports their beliefs and claim it evidence that the other is in the wrong all without actually understanding the source or context.

And thank you. It's nice to know all my research is being appreciated even if it's just by a few at the moment lol.

If you'd like to help spread the information a reblog does wonders to help get it in front of more eyes, but I'll also accept advice on how to make it more digestible to a wider audience lol

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California. 

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her. 

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked. 

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

///

Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

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TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson​ @mellamolayla​ 

[arthemis-forge]

Chapter 3 Body and Soul (Crimson)

Warnings: None (future nsfw)

A/N: Hello guys! Sorry for the delay, what happens is that I was a little busy with some personal things but I'm back.

I will try to update twice a week and each time as we progress through the story, make the chapters longer. Another thing is I didn't notice that the previous chapter i published the draft instead of the final version. Which had many otorgraphic and writing errors. But it's already corrected. If you find something let me know so I can fix it. Also I am very happy for all the support, thank you for your lovely comments. Another thing, Do you want me to create a tag list?. Please tell me in the comments. That's all I wanted to say. Enjoy your reading! 🖤

Chapter 3(Crimson)

Lost in my thoughts, I walked towards the exit of the building while i was looking at the sky with some concern. It wouldn't be long before the sun rise.

And honestly, I was very scared. I did'nt know anyone in this city and didn't know what time it was in the area. My life was in danger and although I was sure that I still had time based on what the sky looked like.

I was still very worried about not knowing what time it was exactly. Looking at my watch was in vain. It was scheduled for London time not New York.

I was very nervous but I had to calm down. So i calculated that there were 2 hours left until the sun rise. And although it sounds like it's a lot of time, I don't know how much traffic there is in this city. And I needed to be in the nearest hotel as soon as posible.

Again I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice that a taxi parked in front of me, it was not until I heard the drivers voice that I noticed it.

—Good night miss, are you waiting for someone else? Or do you need me to take you somewhere? —

Hearing that question made me feel more relaxed again.

—Sure, I actually have nowhere to go. Could you recommend a hotel near here. One with good facilities. The price point doesn’t matter but I really need to get a good place to relax, preferably the closest hotel to the airport.—

I told him as I opened the door and carried my suitcase.

—Of course ma'am, in fact we are close to many good hotels. They are a few streets away. Would you like me to take you to see the exteriors and based on how they look you choose one?. I assure you that they are all very good, some more than others but none are bad. —

The man smiled while he waited for my answer.

I sighed feeling realised.

—Yes please, I would like it very much. —

The man laughed as he drived the car.

—You are not from here are you? I can tell by your accent. —

I nodded as i looked out the window. Analyzing the area I was in.

—That's right, I'm from London. I was transferred from my job. —

—That's so interesting. Sounds like fun to have a job where you travel a lot. —

—Well yeah you're not wrong. But I also needed to start a new life. —

I confessed while we entered to a large avenue with many buildings with hotels and apartments. Some were prettier than others.But nothing look bad about them.

—Is one of you liking? Or do you want me to go further so you can see more options?. —

The truth is that I could already choose one of the many hotels that were on the street. And I couldn't be so demanding, since i needed a safe place away from natural light as soon as possible. But a hunch told me to accept the man's proposal.

—Sure, I think we can see a few more options.—

No matter how much the car moved forward, nothing interested me. It wasn't until we reached the corner of the avenue that a large black building with Victorian architecture caught my attention. On the outside it had an ad with red calligraphy that said "Crimson".

—Stop here, I like this one. —

I pointed to the old building.

—I’m sorry to tell you this, but that hotel is very strict. They do not allow the entry to anyone who doesn't have a membership. It has already happened several times that I leave people here and they end up removing them from the place.—

—Don't worry I will try to enter. If i can´t then I’ll choose one of the hotels that are on this street. How much do I owe you? —

—If you insists, it’s $30 dollars.—

I nodded as I handed over his money.

—Thank you very much, also keep the change. —

I took my suitcase and closed the car's door as I approached the entrance of the building. However I was stopped at the door by a very tall man with brown hair and grey eyes.

— Good night, Miss. Could you give me your membership please. —

Embarrassed, I bit my lower lip and then proceeded to do something I didn't wanted.

—You're going to let me in no matter the rules of the place or what your bosses say. —

I smiled already knowing the results of my action. The man nodded and then open the door for me.

Once inside I noticed that a tall girl with black hair and violet eyes smiled at me as she applauded me.

—That was so wesome, Alice. Just as I expected, James didn't cause you any trouble. —

The girl approached very excited.

—Who are you and why do you know my name?—

I asked very confused and feeling insecure. Since she was aware of what I had just done and the worst thing was that she knew my name. This was getting very strange and I was not liking it.

—I am Grace Crimson. Owner of the hotel and great friend of your Boss Nat. —

—Do you know Nat? —

I said in a very incredulous voice.

—Of course Alice. But hey that is the least important thing right now, let me show you your room and I give you Nats phone number so you can call her.—

While I was trying to process the information, one of the attendants took my suitcase.

—Did Nat tell you in any way that I will come here? —

She just laughed at my question.

— I knew you'd say that. Don't be silly, honey. You are acting like a newborn vampire in the clan. Look dear, I'll explain. I can see the future. Today I had a vision of you in which I saw you giving orders to my guard right outside my hotel. It should be noted that I was concerned, because I didn't knew who you were, so I called all the offices until I found some information about you. To at least make sure that you weren't dangerous to us and to be able to take the necessary measures. By the way, I don't want you to feel bad about what I told you. But these are difficult times and we must take care of each other. —

Of course she was right, what a fool I was. I have been so involved in my personal feelings and problems that I overlook the fact that many in our community have that ability.

—Don't worry, it's okay Grace. I understand. I know how the security protocol works. And I also understand perfectly that you investigated me and that you needed to know who I was. —

I confessed.

—I already knew you were going to say that tho. Hey you are more friendly and understanding than I expected from someone who can control people's minds with their voice. No ofence but your kind is usually a very pretentious. —

I couldn't help laughing at that comment.

—I was like that many years ago, but someone changed me. I try not to abuse my powers too much, only when it’s necessary. —

I lowered my gaze to caress a silver ring with a red diamond that I had on my ring finger.

When she saw how my mood changed, she immediately hug me.

—Don't torment yourself over the past. —

She took me by the hand to walk me through those long corridors of the building. I must admit that I felt a little emotional. The place reminded me a lot of my grandmother's house.

—Here is your room, as you can see it is very spacious, it has a king size bed, living room, bathroom with a bathtub and a beautiful balcony. Also here is Nat's phone number. And don't forget to close all the curtains including the ones on the bed. —

She handed me the keys, a red card and a pos it with Nat’s new number.

—James leave the suitcase on her bed. —

The man obeyed her order and put the suitcase on my bed.

—Sure Grace. Thank you very much for all the hospitality. It has been a long time since I felt welcomed in a place. —

She smiled

—I know we are going to be very good friends. —

After that she closed the door behind me.

It's amazing how someone's life could change in an instant.

One day you are in London crying for your ex and the next day you are in New York and you're dreaming with a man who doesn’t even exist.

Thinking about that, I began to close all the curtains in the room and then i took the phone from the bureau next to the bed.

With some fear I called her, I knew that she would be very upset with me. But i had to do it.

—Hey nat it's me, Alice. —

—You are an idiot, I was so worried! Never do that to me ever again! I thought you wanted to kill yourself or something like that...

You sounded so sad. God you have take some therapy you can't continue living like this...—

I sigh very annoyed.

— Anyway, I already spoke with Bruce and he already gave you permission to work in New York. And before I forget to tell you this. Tomorrow you have a job to do. I need you in a bar, we think we found someone who can serve us for the clan. You will have to go to a concert near a local bar in the town. Grace will leave you the papers with the man's information.—

—Perfect. By the way, thank you very much for the favor. You don't know how grateful I am with you. Anyways, I will leave you, I am very tired and I would like to sleep as much as possible to be in the best possible conditions tomorrow—

—Of course dear. Have a good night. —

Grateful to Nat, I hung up the call and then closed my eyes. But not without first remembering Peter's beautiful green eyes.