#making it difficult to find answers through google

[trollochtomtar]

Why is it so difficult to find video game help online these days. I search a simple question into google and I get:

AI written article that doesn't answer my question

AI written article that doesn't answer my question

AI written article that has nothing to do with my question

Article probably(?) written by a human but it doesn't answer my question

10 minute long video - the answer is 3 sentences long and is hidden at the 7 minute mark

AI written article that doesn't answer my question

Reddit thread that APPEARS to answer my question but it was written months ago when the game was still in beta and the answer simply isn't correct anymore

[mindtrcks]

asmr | CL16

Charles has been having trouble sleeping. Your videos seem to be the only thing that helps.

WC: 5.4k

Notes: performance coach!reader who dabbles in asmr (but only for charles <3), smut, phone sex/mutual masturbation.

Charles has been having trouble sleeping lately.

It could be because of timezones, or how much coffee he drinks. But it probably has more to do with the way he’s been watching the Drivers Championship slip further and further out of his grip with every passing week. But to admit that would be to admit that he’s losing control of the car, and with it, himself. To admit that would be to admit that there's nothing he can do about it.

So he claims that he’s merely been a little restless at night. He’s told to try calming teas before bed, so he does. But then he just has to get up and use the restroom. He counts hundreds of sheep without getting tired, and ocean noises and whale sounds just pound around in his skull until he turns them off. He tries picturing the schematics of the SF24 in his head until he has a perfect rendition in his mind. But then he thinks of how it feels to drag it back into the pits, and works himself up so much he can’t even close his eyes.

He’s growing more than just a little restless. He thinks he might be getting desperate.

—

“Have you tried warm milk?” Andrea asks him, when Charles shows up to training with bags under his eyes, yet again.

“Yes, no luck,” he answers. He doesn’t know a kind way to say that he’s tried everything that appears on the first five pages of google when he searches for insomnia remedies, including an American military tactic that’s supposed to work in ten seconds. (Charles has found it doesn’t work at all.)

Andrea makes a sympathetic sound and begins to guide Charles through a warm-up. His limbs don’t stretch as far as they would if he had gotten a good night’s sleep.

As he struggles, your voice calls out, from the corner, “Wait, he’s allowed to eat dairy?”

And that is something he is still getting used to. You, shadowing his sessions with Andrea. You’re preparing for your transfer to a team that shall not be named, as you like to say. Charles figures it must be a team that pays well, because you take the NDA quite seriously. When Andrea first told him about the arrangement, he worried it would be awkward, but he quickly found the opposite to be true. You talk quite a lot for a soon-to-be head performance coach. It’s comfortable. He likes your chatter, even if it’s a bit inane at times.

“Drink dairy,” he corrects, just to hear you huff.

The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because then Andrea’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him further into his lunge, and deepening the burn in his thighs. “Milk is healthy,” Andrea tells you, sounding like a professor. Like he really thinks you don’t understand the merits of drinking milk. Charles just thinks you want to be difficult. “Also, he has an ice cream company.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think he started it for the love of ice cream. Plus, everybody makes it seem like drivers can only eat gruel. I need to shadow a nutritionist or something.”

Andrea lets him stand up, and instructs him to start stretching his arms now. “You don’t have to make the meal plan,” he says, once adequately satisfied with Charles’ form. “They can just find Dan—”

You interrupt him with a gasp and a rushed, “Shshsh,” not quite a shush, but something close. Like calling a cat. “You can’t say who it is,” you say, waving your arms. But then you freeze, and Charles can see the moment your face lights up with an idea. He knows, instinctively, that it can’t be good. “Wait. Charles, have you tried ASMR?”

He briefly debates lying, but he’s not sure he has a good enough poker face to get away with it normally, much less when Andrea pulls his arm up and introduces a new ache to the stretch. “I have tried, but it did not help much,” he admits, choosing to ignore both the delight on your face and the reserved judgment on Andrea’s. “It felt weird to have some stranger try to put me to sleep.”

“Ah, so you need your own personal ASMRtist, just for you?” you ask, eyebrows raising. Charles would feel shame, but he is just too tired. He watches you turn to Andrea and shake your head. “These drivers, man.”

Charles just sighs. Andrea makes his way to the treadmill, and Charles sighs again, this time with feeling.

—

He doesn’t think much of it, as he goes through the workout. Andrea works him hard enough that he doesn’t think much of anything at all. That is, until he’s doing crunches and your face suddenly appears above him, grinning down. “I could do it, if you wanted to try ASMR again. I could make you some, seeing as I’m not a stranger.”

At this point, Charles would try just about anything. Exhausted, and sweaty, and struggling to finish his set, he grunts, “Sure. If it is not a problem.”

“No problem at all,” you say, throwing him an exaggerated wink.

He’s lost too much sleep over the past few weeks to spend time parsing out whatever that means.

—

A week later, and Charles has honestly forgotten about the entire thing until you text him out of the blue on a Monday afternoon.

what kind of things do you like?

for your asmr :)

He stares down at his phone and tries to think of a reasonable way to respond to that. He has watched ASMR before, yes. It’s true that if it exists on the first five pages of google, he has already tried it. But all of the videos he watched were too creepy, or too loud, or again, too impersonal. He didn’t really discover anything that worked, except maybe for the lack of traffic in the background.

I like for it to be quiet, he sends, eventually. He’s not sure what else to offer. As he watches you type, he hopes that you won't put too much effort into this whole thing. Charles is not very hopeful that it will help in the first place.

well, yes!

i mean do you like talking? or water sounds or something?

I’m not sure, he types. And then, just to ease your expectations, adds, Honestly it will probably not work either way

have you no faith in me?

He doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he turns his phone off instead of overthinking.

—

It’s Wednesday night by the time you text him again.

for you, the message reads. There's a video attached, of course. He has to wait for it to download to his phone before he can see the cover image: you, sitting at a hotel room desk, smiling softly. Your hand is blurry in the frame, like you're pulling it back after pressing record.

He feels something tight in his stomach, a jump of anticipation. If his problem was the impersonality of the few videos he’s tried on YouTube, this would definitely fix that. The frame looks like something he might see if he were to do a video call with you. Something he might see if you were really talking to him.

Pressing play seems dangerous. He thinks it will probably not work, but there's the nagging thought in the back of his mind of what if it does? What if, after all the home remedies and melatonin and sleepless nights, this is what finally works? Your voice, your face, on a video just for him. How is he meant to deal with the repercussions of that?

It's a war within himself, whether to press play or not. The fact is that he needs to get sleep before free practice in the morning. But he cannot honestly say that watching your video would help any more than staring up at the hotel ceiling, counting the cracks and divots. Picturing sheep jumping over a fence, like his maman always said.

It is almost like his phone is singing to him, though. In a voice that maybe sounds like a siren’s or maybe sounds like yours.

He cannot help it. He presses play.

“Hi, Charles,” your voice whispers in the quiet of his hotel room.

Instantly, he panics and shuts his phone off. Much too dangerous, he thinks. The sheep will work just fine.

—

He wakes up feeling more exhausted than he has ever felt.

It’s bad, he knows. He hardly has anything to say to the reporters who try to talk to him before he gets in the car. Free practice is a nightmare, and he nearly crashes out in the middle of a flying lap. And then, of course, he has to sit through an entirely long debrief in which all that seems to be said is how he needs to be focusing more. Concentrating on what's important.

“Maybe you just need to get more sleep,” you offer, like you know, somehow, that he was too much of a coward to watch the video you sent. That you can see how he didn't even try.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

There are sympathetic faces, and then he’s sent back to the hotel early, with firm instructions to go to bed.

—

He tries to fall asleep on his own. He drinks tea and plays whale noises and even does yoga poses, which do nothing but aggravate his muscles, already sore from his incident in free practice.

In the end, there's nothing to be done. He rolls over and grabs his phone, resolving that, if nothing else, he will try. And even if it doesn't work, then he at least will know, and he can stop thinking about you sitting at that desk, whispering his name.

He presses play before he can convince himself otherwise.

“Hi, Charles,” you say, on the video. The room around you is dimly lit, the kind of yellow light in hotel rooms that makes everything look a bit hazy. You’re wearing your Ferrari polo, but you've pulled a zip-up over it. Charles always thought you looked very nice in red. He isn't sure if he's supposed to close his eyes or not.

“I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

He watches you talk until you instruct him in a quiet voice to close his eyes, and he’s thankful for the clarification. It’s an easier instruction to follow than to just relax, like the YouTube videos say. It’s easier to follow your instructions, period, he thinks. He’s used to it, from your input in training sessions. Straighten your back, widen your stance, do two more. It’s rote, listening to you. And your voice is melodic, comforting. He listens contently as you tell him to count down from ten, and to guess whether you’re snapping with your left or right hand. You start making that sound you’d made at Andrea during his last training session with you, a hushed shshshsh, and Charles finds himself yawning.

Maybe it’s a trust thing. Maybe he finds himself getting tired because he knows he can fall asleep without worrying about you randomly screaming on the video, or interrupting the quiet with an ad halfway through.

Maybe it’s just because it’s you.

He’s asleep before he can come to a conclusion.

—

“You’re looking refreshed this morning,” you chirp at him, when you cross paths in the paddock.

He feels a flush rise high on his cheeks. I wonder why, he thinks. Outwardly, he admits, “Yes, I slept well last night.” And then, after a moment, adds, quieter, “Thank you.”

Your smile is softer than the usual grin you level him with. Still, he can tell you’re proud of yourself. “And you didn’t think it would work. See, Charles, your performance coach always knows best.”

He finds himself feeling grateful for your capacity for talking, once again. When he woke up, he was nervous he wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation with you anymore, or wouldn’t be able to force himself into acting normal. Now, though, it still feels just as easy. “You’re not my performance coach,” he states.

It gets him an eye roll. “Right, I’m your personal ‘ASMRtist.’”

You whisper the word, which he isn’t quite sure is a real word to begin with, and it’s almost like he’s watching the video again.

He knew it was dangerous clicking play.

—

With sleep, his performance improves.

It’s nothing miraculous. The car is still the car; the team is still the team. But it feels less like he’s fighting, or like control is slipping through his fingers at every turn. He starts to enjoy it a bit more, even during the rough times. Everything had felt so much worse when he knew that he could spend the entire day wrestling with the car, and wouldn’t even be able to sleep it off when the race was over. Now, he breathes easier knowing that your video is waiting for him.

You send him another, during the two weeks off in April, and then one more after his podium in Miami. He rotates through the three of them based on how he’s feeling, or how long he thinks it’ll take. (Sometimes, he feels a bit spoiled for choice, and starts brainstorming ways to pay you back.) Though he likes them all, he does have a favorite. The one you sent after Miami. You start it by telling him congratulations and saying that you know he’ll be on the top step soon.

It would be one thing if you mentioned his podium finish off-handedly, just the once. But no. The entire video goes on like that, soft encouragement sprinkled throughout, like a reward for racing well.

Whenever he watches that one, your voice follows him into sleep, where he dreams of you encouraging him to do other things, completely unrelated to racing.

—

His problem then becomes wholly unrelated to sleep, and completely having to do with you.

It’s like he’s pavloved himself into wanting to hear your voice, or see your face. He tells Andrea that he would not mind if you sat in on more of his training sessions, just so he can argue with you about the difference between cartwheels and somersaults, electric stoves versus gas, flying commercial or private. He gets to the garage early to see you warm up the mechanics, a thinly veiled excuse to watch you doing squats. He doesn’t put his headphones in while he walks around hospitality, on the off chance that he’ll get to hear your voice.

He once wondered what the repercussions of watching your videos would be. Now, he knows.

—

Monaco is a dream that cannot be deterred by his growing obsession with you.

Charles has been finding it hard to keep his eyes dry ever since the last lap. His mechanics pull him into a hug, and he feels like he’s flying. Arthur is there, crying. Charles never thought he could do it. Jumping into the water feels like victory. It is victory.

There will be a big celebration, he is sure.

You’ll be proud of him, he is even surer.

—

He’s not thinking about sleeping until you find him outside of his drivers’ room, and take him by the shoulders. “I told you you’d do it,” you say, pulling him into a hug that’s tight like a vice-grip.

His voice is muffled by your hair when he says, through a throat still tight with tears, “I am glad I got a good rest last night.”

You laugh as you pull back from him. It is hard to see through the wetness in his eyes, but he thinks he can see a similar shine in your own. He’s not sure what to do with that. There are all these people who are so proud of him, and now you’re one of them. Now you’re holding his shoulders and crying with him. It’s nice. He feels cared for. He wants you there after every win.

“Well, I’m glad to be of service,” you say. “I’m not sure when you’ll be going to bed tonight, but call me if you need help sleeping, Charles. Among other things.”

You punctuate your sentence with a wink, and then you’re gone, leaving him with the memory of your grin at the front of his mind, like an image burned into a TV screen.

—

He is going out tonight. The whole of Monaco will be celebrating him. The team will be waiting to greet him with open arms and open bars. People will want to pour some more champagne on him, and get him drunk, and find a dance floor.

He is going out tonight, but right now, he’s sitting alone in his hotel room, thinking about what you had said.

Among other things, accompanied by a wink. A wink. That’s flirting, he thinks. No, he knows. You’re flirting with him. You had winked at him when you first offered this whole arrangement, too. Charles hadn’t known what it meant. Hadn’t really cared. Now he wonders if you were flirting with him then, too.

It’s not so much of a stretch. You spend a lot of time with him, even if he has orchestrated most of it. It never seems like a chore for you to sit in on his training sessions. You gladly correct his form and tell him that he can take more. You’re a very hands-on performance coach, unafraid to touch him in places Andrea wouldn’t. Whenever Charles is alone in hospitality, you’re always quick to find him, eager to gossip about the mechanics or to share contraband pastries he’s definitely not supposed to eat. You make him the videos that started all of this. You tell him hi and congratulations and I’m proud of you. You talk to him in a quiet voice that he hears in his dreams now.

You care enough to cry over his win. Embarrassingly, that thought is what has him dipping his hand below the waistband of his briefs. He thinks he should not. He has places to be, soon. But he’s still a bit high off the adrenaline, and it’s been so long, anyway. If he is quick, it cannot hurt. This is what he tells himself, as he lays back against the pillow, and pretends he’s not thinking about you.

He doesn’t think of your lips, or your legs, or the way you look in Ferrari red. Or the way you would look as he pulls the Ferrari red off of you, ‘til you’re bare in front of him.

He’s not sure what compels him to pull up the first video you made him; it feels like a force beyond his control. Maybe it’s the memory of your grin, and your wink. Maybe he’s just crazy. Maybe he’s still just as desperate as when this all first started. Probably all of the above, he thinks, pressing play with as much shame as one can feel with their hand on their dick.

“Hi, Charles. I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

You have hardly finished the first sentence when he closes out of the video with a shudder. Too weird, he thinks. He doesn’t want to tarnish the video. Or to use it for something you didn’t make it for. But now he won’t be able to stop thinking of you, or stop hearing your voice. He feels hot all over as he stares at your contact on his phone. You did say that he should call, even with other things. You had winked! Is this what you meant?

He is a race winner in Monaco. He decides to risk it.

“Hi, Charles,” you say when you answer, just like the video. Louder this time of course, since you’re not trying to put him to sleep.

It takes a moment for him to trust his voice. It would probably be easier if he stopped touching himself, but alas. He manages to get it out eventually. “Hello. You said to call if I needed help.”

“Oh, sleeping?” You ask, after making a shocked sound in the back of your throat that—in a different context—could be interpreted as something else. He has to choke down a gasp, and somehow, you don’t notice. “Wow, early night.”

He swallows, braces himself. “Not sleeping,” he admits. “You said I could call with other things, too.” His voice comes out so quiet with shame that he's almost surprised you can hear it all. You’re silent on the other end for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. His hand stills where he had been touching himself as he waits with bated breath, half-expecting you to hang up on him.

You don’t. “Charles,” you say. There’s an edge to your voice that he’s never heard before, something vaguely scandalized and entirely too much to handle. He strokes himself, again, unable to stop himself, and hears you inhale sharply. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry if this is not what you meant. I can hang up.”

“No, no it's fine,” you say. He can hear shuffling across the phone. Just like pressing play on your video was dangerous, this is, too. Because now his imagination is left to run wild, and he wonders if you're in bed like him, if you're taking off the Ferrari polo, if you're touching yourself. “I've gotta be honest, I don't really—er, I haven't exactly done this before,” you confess.

“That's okay.” There’s a shy, nervous energy about you that he can feel through the phone. It's not something he’s used to; you're always the one with something to say, cocksure and easy. Maybe now it's his turn to take the lead. Maybe this way he can finally pay you back for all your effort in making him the videos. “This is something you want, yes?”

“Charles, I offered.”

And he supposes that is true enough. “Right,” he says, steeling himself. This is something he can handle. It's not like he's used to it by any means; it feels strange that you're not here with him, stranger that you’re doing this in the first place. But he can't exactly stop now. The slide of his palm against his dick feels nice enough on its own, but the prospect of you, on the other end of the line listening is something else entirely.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

He feels like a dick even before you laugh out a shocked, “Jesus Christ, Charles.”

Still, he knows there are only so many ways that this goes. “It is how you do it!” he defends “I say ‘what are you wearing’ and you say—well, you know what you say.”

“But you know what I’m wearing. Ferrari shirt. Jeans. My uniform.”

He does know. He has been picturing you in red this whole time. But it's not as if he had asked out of curiosity. He asked so that he could tell you, “Yes, it’s probably not comfortable. You should take it off.”

He hears the sound of your throat clicking as you swallow. “Oh,” you say, really nothing more than a huff of air. It feels just as close to victory as jumping into the water.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he instructs, to the sounds of more shuffling. He can picture it, in his head. You, pulling off your shirt, ridding yourself of the jeans. Laying back just like him, waiting patiently for instructions. It’s becoming difficult to think through the blood rush to his dick.

“Done,” you say, plainly. He wants nothing more than to be able to see you, touch you. He wonders if your hotel room is cold, if you have goosebumps he could chase away with his hands. The thought distracts him, until you huff, “Charles.”

“Ah, sorry,” he says. It really is hard to think, especially when you're saying his name like that, breathy and soft and naked in bed on the phone with him. His dick twitches and he has to pull his hand away for a moment before continuing. “If I were there, do you know how I would touch you?”

The sound you make is almost like he’s punched you in the stomach. “You’re such a tease, just tell me.”

It’s easy to imagine, as he tugs on his dick. He’s not too proud to say that he's thought of this before. Maybe not over the phone, but you, with him, together. “I would take my time to thank you properly. I would touch your thighs, and your stomach first. Just lightly. You should, too.” He can tell you’re listening based on the way your breaths come in harsher. “Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah,” you answer, sounding dazed. Charles understands, deeply. He cannot believe this is happening, that you’re doing this with him, touching yourself the way he instructs.

You seem content for a moment, but when he doesn't specify anything further, it's not long before you seem to want more. “I could do this on my own,” you whine, a pitch to your voice that he never wants to stop hearing. He files the sound away in the same corner of his mind that remembers what you sound like talking him to sleep. Distantly, he hears the sheets moving beneath you, and can't help but to imagine you writhing on the bed, aching for more.

“I can hang up and leave you to it,” he threatens, with absolutely no intentions to make good on it.

The sound of the sheets rustling stops. “You’re not being very nice. Some 'thank you’ this is.”

You are a bit of a brat, he thinks. He should've known, really. You always seem to have something to say. But he certainly won't complain about it now, not when the sound of your voice is enough to make him believe that you’re there, that it’s you touching him, faster now, than before.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Proper thanks are in order, right? You can touch yourself where you want to.”

Your breath hitches, and he can practically see you, on your bed, your fingers working expertly at yourself. “Are you?” you ask, and it takes him a moment to recall the line of conversation.

When he does, he chokes out, “Yes, I—have been.”

“Chivalry is dead,” you sigh out.

He still tries to defend himself, even as the sound of skin slapping against skin becomes more and more pronounced in the emptiness of the room. “I’m being nice! You help me to sleep so now I will help you to come.” He hears you squawk a laugh, but it quickly turns into something more like a moan. “Ah, see? I am helping.”

“You’re not doing anything.”

He briefly debates the merits of walking through the hotel sweating and hard in his underwear to find you. But he thinks the team leads at Ferrari would prefer if he did not. He supposes that imagining will work just fine, for now. “If I were there, I would use my mouth,” he decides. “You could sit on my face, I would let you.”

“Oh,” you say. He pictures you with your head thrown back, chest heaving, and hid dick twitches in his hand. “Maybe you are a gentleman.”

Eh, this is not very gentlemanly, he doesn't think. If he were a gentleman, he would've taken you to dinner, or something. Not called you with his hand already down his pants. Still, he says, “Yes.” And then: “You should put your fingers inside.”

It might be his imagination, but he swears he can hear it, the slick slide, muffled by the sound you make, a choked mewl. “Good,” he says, and he thinks your answering groan may be equal parts frustrated and aroused.

He has to adjust himself against the pillows. Holding the phone makes it awkward; he considers dropping it and putting you on speaker, but he doesn't think he's quite ready to be able to hear your voice and your hands your noises projected in the room. It feels more intimate like this, just for him. And he would have to open his eyes to put you on speaker, have to stop picturing you fucking yourself with your fingers, at his request. It's not an image he plans on abandoning soon.

He hears your breaths become heavier and heavier over the phone, accompanied by sounds that slowly drive him insane, moans like a pornstar’s instead of a performance coach’s. If this is what you are like just from your own fingers, he cannot imagine how nice he could make you feel on his dick.

“I would fuck you,” he says, after a particularly nice stroke. He feels a little crazy with it. He won't last much longer, he knows. You called him a gentleman but he might finish first. At this point, there's nothing he can do about it.

The little hah you say into the receiver certainly doesn't help. “That would be—I can't say I haven't thought about it.”

“What did you think about?” he asks. He has to know now.

You make a tortured sound. He pictures you trying to hide your face, or squirm away from your own hands. His hips buck into his fist; he pretends it's you.

“I don't know. Everything, Charles,” you confess, through heavy breaths. “When you would take your shirt off in the gym, I’d think of you fucking me on the equipment. You made it very hard to take notes. Sometimes I'd think of you, like, fucking me in your car. The car.”

“There is not much room,” he says, instead of examining why that thought nearly sends him careening off the edge.

“Knowing that is above my pay grade.”

“I could fuck you on the hood, maybe,” he hums. The image is—god, he’s really not going to last. “My two favorite things.”

The sound that comes out of you is a mix of his name, and several assorted swears, and maybe something about Ferrari firing you. But your voice is shaky and you gasp like it’s over, like you just made yourself—

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Did you—”

“Yes,” you squeak, like you're embarrassed. He didn't know you had the capacity. “Oh my god, Charles.”

It’s his name on your tongue that has him finally spilling his load with a shout that he hopes is mostly muffled by the hotel walls. He’s pretty sure Fred is the next room over, something he hadn't wanted to think about with his hand in his dick and still doesn't want to think about now, cum drying in his boxers and you catching your breath on the other end of the line.

“Is that what you meant?” Charles asks eventually. “When you said I should call you?”

You sound almost sheepish when you answer. “Yeah, but to be honest I didn't think you’d pick up on it.”

“I thought it might have been just wishful thinking. The adrenaline made me do it.”

“Well, you were very good at it. I think you could make better asmr than me.”

He shudders at the thought. He cannot imagine doing what you do, whispering to his phone camera and pretending it's you. He's grateful for your lack of shame, because he's not sure he’d be able to do it were the roles reversed. “No, I'll leave that to you.” And then, because he’s still running mostly off of adrenaline: “Maybe we can talk more later? In person?”

He can hear the grin in your voice when you answer. “I’d be mad that you're hanging up on me, but I think you may be trying to invite me to your party?”

“You know you're already invited. But maybe you could come with me?”

“It’s a date,” you answer, which makes Charles three for three on victories for the day. Somehow, this one feels the most monumental. Maybe it's because of the cum still drying in his briefs. “I’ll wear something more fun to take off than my team kit.”

—

You wear something that's honestly rather difficult to take off, but he quickly discovers that you're good with your hands, and layer, he discovers that ASMR is not the only trick up your sleeve to tire him out.

[burningembers91]

Not Like You - Cho Sang-Woo x Fem Reader

Follow up piece to:

Biggest Regret What Makes You Happy

Synopsis: You arrange to meet Cho Sang-Woo in the hopes of getting closure. But all it does it make you realise how much you still love the man who broke your heart.

A/N: Oh Lordy, this storyline is breaking my heart. Also, for clarification, I did a quick Google currency converter because in my fic, Cho Sang-Woo has 500,000,000₩ (won) worth of debt. In USD it roughly amounts to $343,000, or if you're in the UK like me it's approx. £282,000. In Euros it's about €332,000 (if those amounts are wildly incorrect, I blame Google).

You were so angry with yourself. You’d spent two years hating the man who had broken your heart, who’d left you standing at the alter like a fool. And yet, the second you laid eyes on him, that hatred simply vanished. You were angry that you could automatically forgive all his sins. You were angry that your body still ached for him in a way it never had for anyone else. Your conversation with Cho Sang-Woo had been playing round and round in your head for the last week. Why couldn’t you have just lied and told him that Jason made you happy? Why couldn’t you have pretended that you were living the dream? The hurt in his face was evident, the tension between the two of you almost electric. It was incredible that despite all the heartache he’d put you through, you still pictured his hands on your body, his lips on yours.

You tried to push him to the back of your mind, tried to focus on your new relationship. Jason was nice enough, if a little distant and uncompromising, but he treated you well. He bought your flowers, and took you to nice dinners, and made you coffee in bed. So, why wasn’t he good enough for you? You already knew the answer; it was screaming at you from the very depths of your soul. Jason wasn’t good enough because he wasn’t Sang-Woo.

You were finding it difficult to be present with him, your mind drifting to your ex-fiancé almost constantly. When Jason made love to you, you pictured Sang-Woo, pictured his lips on your body, your hands tangled in his thick hair. You found yourself snapping at him for no reason, finding excuses to be alone with your thoughts. Sang-Woo was slowly taking over your life, and you needed him to stop.

You’d arranged to meet him at a coffee house, to get some closure and then finally close the door on the man you’d thought you were going to marry. You’d awoken with so much conviction, settled on the idea that you would tell Sang-Woo you never wanted to see him again, and then you could focus on your future with Jason. But as soon you saw him, your desire to forget about him faded. He was sitting at a table by the window, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he looked at the menu. He looked so different from how he’d been when you were together; his clothes were casual, his hair tousled. He looked good, really good.

“Hi,” you said, the all too familiar ache in the pit of your stomach twisting itself in knots as you looked at him. “You came,” he smiled, standing up to pull your chair out for you. as you sat down you couldn’t help but think to yourself that Jason never pulled your chair out for you. “I thought we should talk. Get everything out in the open, maybe without yelling at each other this time.” Your harsh exchange of words at the market still haunted the both of you. You’d never raised your voices at each other before, but then again, you’d never really argued when you were together. Everything had been perfect, or so you’d thought.

You ordered your coffees, neither of you sure how to start the conversation. You wondered if he felt the tension too, whether he could sense the almost suffocating chemistry between you. you wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to feel his hands on your waist as he lips skimmed the delicate contours of your neck. “You really hurt me,” you said quietly, “I spent two years thinking I wasn’t good enough for you.” “It was me who wasn’t good enough,” Sang-Woo insisted. He reached forward to take your hand, thinking better of it at the last second. “I didn’t want to drag you down.” “But we could have worked it out together,” you said, your fists balling as you fought the urge to raise your voice. “You gave me no explanation. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was? I wanted for three hours for you to show up at the church. I ended up being told to leave because there were other couples waiting.” Your words cut him like a knife, the idea of you standing there, watching the door he would never come through broke him all over again. He couldn’t look you, his eyes stinging with tears. He would never be able to take back what he did to you, and it destroyed him.

“How badly were you in debt?” you asked quietly. “500,000,000 won,” he whispered. The number still made him sick to his stomach, and he still couldn’t quite figure out how he’d gotten into that position. “How?” Your body had gone cold, your breath catching in your throat. How could he have hidden that from you? “Honestly,” he choked, “I don’t know. It started with credit cards, then loans. Then I invested quite a bit but the investments went to shit. I put the apartment, my car, all our furniture up as collateral, but I’d been so confident my investments would pan out. I never imagined…” He couldn’t finish his sentence; couldn’t begin to image what it would have meant for you. “I wanted to give you the best life, and all I did was tear us apart.”

You so badly wanted to be mad at him, but as you looked at Sang-Woo from across the table, all your saw was a broken man. He had bags under his eyes, he’d lost weight, the weight of the world crushing his soul. You felt sorry for him. Despite your better judgement your hand shot across the table, your fingers entwining in his. Your touch set his heart ablaze, every atom of his being burning for you. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, a single tear running down his cheek. “I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

You sat there in silence for a while, your hands still linked atop the table. You were so conflicted, your head and heart waging a war inside you as you sat staring at the coffee foam in your half-empty mug. You couldn’t have helped him pay back that money, not in a million years. But at the same time, you wouldn’t have left him either. You were beginning to understand why he’d felt the need to run, why he felt he had no other option. “How much have you paid back?” you asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you tried to figure out how a person would even go about repaying the vast sum. “About 100,000 won,” Sang-Woo gulped. He was in the shit, so absolutely, undeniably fucked that he would quite probably never recover. “Fuck,” was all you could think to say. You couldn’t leave him to struggle like this, but how could you help him? You made a decent salary, but nothing that could pay back his debts. But you couldn’t leave him to struggle, not when you still cared for him.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there for, your hands still clasped together. you’d have to return home soon, back to the man you’d never love as much you had loved Sang-Woo. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to go back to your expansive apartment while Sang-Woo was forced to sleep on the floor of his mother’s living room. You wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be ok. You couldn’t hate this man, not when you’d loved him so fiercely.

“You should get back,” he finally smiled sadly. “Your boyfriend will be missing you.” Sang-Woo escorted you outside, the two of you standing on the sidewalk, neither of you wanting to be the first person to walk away. “I wish you all the best in the world,” he said, fighting tears as you looked at you. “You deserve nothing but happiness.” He turned to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t let him leave, not when it probably meant you’d never see him again. Panic rose through you, your chest tightening as you watch him disappear into the crowd. This morning you’d be so sure that today would be the last time you laid eyes on Cho Sang-Woo, and now the thought was making you physically sick.

You ran after him, pushing past people as you frantically searched for him. You saw him round a corner and sprinted after him, shouting his name as you ran. He stopped, turning towards the sound and saw you bolting towards him. Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, your lips meeting his in a frenzied heat. Your hands gripped his hair, your arms wound tightly around your neck, as you held each other. The kiss was rough and desperate, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’d been an idiot to think you could ever forget Sang-Woo; he was your soulmate, the one person you were destined to be with.

“Please don’t go,” you sobbed, clinging to his shirt as he held you. “Please.” Sang-woo fought with himself, the urge to be with you overwhelming, but the knowledge that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved pressed down on his soul. “Does he make you happy?” He asked again, repeating the question he’d asked the last time you’d met. You shook your head, sniffing back tears. “Not like you did,” you whispered.

But the happiness he’d given you, it had been built on a lie. He’d hidden debt from you, had almost cost you the roof over your head. He wanted to be with you, but you didn’t deserve a liar like him. Sang-Woo had wanted to fight for you, but why fight for someone you weren’t good enough for?

“You don’t want me,” he whispered, “I’ll only bring you down.” With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing on the street. You screamed his name, tried to follow him but the crowds were too thick for you to pass through.

You didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to go back to the man who could never be the person you wanted. Two years ago, your heart had broken. Now, as you watched Sang-Woo disappear, it broke all over again.

[evertidings]

Hello~ I have a question about the writing/development process, if that‘s alright? What method do you use to keep track of choices/branches? I‘ve been debating on writing an IF, but the choice/branch thing seems almost more daunting than the coding 😭

I’ve answered this before but I love talking about this haha so I’ll explain it again.

I should start off by saying I’m not very Type B, so I don’t really need a rigid outline before I start writing. A lot of my best scenes are happy coincidences, and I come up with a lot of ideas on the spot. That said, having a vague idea of what you’re doing is always nice, especially since an IF is not a linear thing.

— FLOW CHARTS

When it comes to planning out various branches, I think the easiest way is to see it visually. I have a dedicated notebook for WTS, so when I start a chapter, I whip it out and conjure something like this (the flowchart above). Mine don’t go into detail about every choice that I want included in the chapter, but at the very least, I get a rough idea of how I want the chapter to begin and end, as well as how I am getting to that final checkpoint.

I also tend to write jot notes on the side of various topics I want to cover and scenes where that can happen. Again, I’m very flexible with my writing so having the freedom is useful to me, but it may not be for you.

— CHOICES & IF STATEMENTS.

Then, the writing. I start all my chapters in Word, which to most people will look crazy, but once you get used to it, you’ll find it’s actually quite organized. I’ve attached my layout above. The “Choice Placeholder” is, as you can guess, where I’d put the text for the choice players would choose. Everything in the bullet point would be text that only that route sees, and anything after it is common text that all the routes merge into.

I also included an example of how I set up my ‘if statements’, aka flavour text, in my Word document. While I usually write it in code, but for the sake of simplicity, I left it out. These aren’t reallyyyy necessary when you’re first figuring things out, but having flavour text can be nice for customization reasons. Like having your MC bump their head if they’re too tall for a doorframe, for example. I write these in a slightly different shade from my choices and on a different bullet point line just to make it easier on my brain and eyes.

Word (I’m not sure about Google Docs) allows you to create headers and collapse them, so if this looks a little too crazy for you, that’s always an option.

— CHARTS

If you need a little more structure and can’t just, like, freestyle your choices in a document, you can also make a chart. I do this to keep track of my variables. This one, for example, is from Chapter 8. I obviously crossed some things out, but you get the gist of it. While I’m not sure this would be the best method for organizing branches, it definitely helps in other areas.

Either way, I find that having a spreadsheet like this is the best way to keep everything in one place. If you have a lot of flavour text like me, it’s also good for when you want to reference something from a previous chapter. Because of that, I only really include variables I think will be useful for the future; if I put every variable I’ve ever created in a chart, I think I’d explode.

— OVERALL

I don’t think branches should be something that intimidates you. It’s very different from the traditional, linear way of writing, for sure, but I think as long as you keep it simple, it’s not that difficult. First chapters tend to have a lot of choices on customization and there is little space for flavour text since you have no previous text to reference, so you can always use that as a ‘trial run’ before getting into more complicated things.

If you decide to go through with it, good luck!! Let me know if you have any more questions too (and hopefully this answered your initial one).

[love--and--venom]

I Make You (You Make Me): Chapter Three

Summary: You fill the boys in about the phone call. You learn the meaning behind one of your soulmark's colors. A cute moment with Heeseung.

Warnings: I don't think there's anything? Lmk if I should add any. Super not proofread.

A/N: I did swap Jungwon and Heeseung's colors, so no you're not crazy. Jungwon is now pink and Heeseung is now red.

Series Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N, you should wake up.” A gentle hand shook your shoulder. “You’re not gonna be tired tonight otherwise.” With a groan, you cracked open one eye. Jay hovered over you, tracing patterns on your skin just to see the trails of green left behind.

“What time is it?” You sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. 

“Almost 4:30,” Jake said as he passed through the living room. You groaned again, pissed at yourself for taking a four-hour nap. Sunoo plopped down next to you while the rest of the boys went to change. He relaxed into the cushions and turned to you.

“So are you gonna tell us why Jungwon started freaking out in the middle of the shoot?” He arched an eyebrow, playfully pinching your knee. You considered that progress in terms of skinship with the fox-eyed idol.

“I’ll tell you once everyone is out here.” He hummed and both of you pulled out your phones to catch up on notifications. You grumpily deleted three job rejection emails. Hopefully Minjun could get an answer about the backup dancer position soon. Jungwon was the first to return to the living room, stealing the spot on your other side. He immediately grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. One by one, the others filed into the room.

“What happened?” Jungwon’s forehead creased in concern, squeezing your hand. Whether he was trying to calm you or himself, you couldn’t really tell. 

“I got a really concerning phone call. Long story short, the woman that called knows about me and the soulmates of Xikers and TXT.”

“What?!” Jay snapped, jolting upright from where he was laying on the floor. “How is that possible? We've all been so careful.”

“I don’t know. But it sounds like she wants to expose me and the other girls for, uhh…” you trailed off, unsure if you should tell them about the mystery woman’s insults.

“Expose you for what?” Sunghoon urged you to continue, but you hesitated, pressing your lips into a thin line. 

“Y/N.” Oh, fuck, Jungwon used his leader voice. “Expose you for what?”

“She wants to show everyone that we’re,” your voice dropped down to a mumble. “Whoring ourselves out to you.”

“Y/N,” Jungwon sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

“She called us whores, okay?” 

“No fucking way,” Jake scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

“I know. Minjun is going to contact the managers for the other groups. He said I should stay in the dorms while they coordinate with the police,” you explained. 

“Is the phone number still in your call history?” Riki tilted his head back to rest on your crossed legs. He sat on the floor in front of the couch, legs sprawled out across the carpet. You nodded, prompting him to continue. “Do you think we should try calling them?”

“No, definitely not.” 

“Why not? We might be able to figure out who it is or what they want,” Jake continued. All eyes fell to you as you huffed in irritation.

“Think about it. First, we don’t even know if this is a real phone number. Second, what would even say to her if she did answer?” You raised a brow, looking between Jake and Riki. The younger shrugged and closed his eyes, pulling your hand down to his hair. Jake coughed and picked at his nails when he couldn’t find an answer.

“Let Minjun and the other managers handle it. She’s safe here and at the company,” Jungwon firmly stated, ending any lingering arguments.

“Well, in better news, I think I know what your colors mean,” Jay switched the topic with a point to your fingers.

“Really? How?” You perked up a bit, eager to learn more about your soulmark.

“Sunoo and I were three pages deep on google during our lunch break.”

“It was the first time I’ve ever gone past the first page of results. I thought I was on the dark web,” Sunoo dropped his voice to a raspy whisper toward the end, wiggling his fingers at you. 

“And what did you find on the dark web?” You wiggled your fingers back at him.

“Sunghoon was right for once-”

“Hey!” Sunghoon complained and threw a pillow at Jay. They started bickering, so you turned to Sunoo.

“The different colors do represent different bond types,” he said while pulling out his phone. “Uhh, hang on, I screenshotted it.”

“What are the types of bonds?” Riki asked, cracking open one eye.

“That’s what I’m looking for, doofus. Oh, here it is! We found this on a sketchy blog, but everyone seems to agree. For one of the colors, at least.”

“Sunoo, please just tell me,” you whined. 

“Oh, my god, you’re all so impatient. The only color people can agree on right now is red. It represents soul bonds that are both romantic and sexual in nature,” he read from the post. Your eyes widened and you deliberately ignored the stares from Jay, Sunghoon, and Heeseung.

“Oh! That’s…” You trailed off, feeling awkward for the first time around the boys.

“Hot.”

“Heeseung!” You squeaked and hid your face behind your hands. He cackled at your reaction, only making you sink further into the couch.

“Chill,” Jake smacked the eldest on the shoulder half-heartedly. “You’re embarrassing our soulmate.”

“I’m sorry, baby, but you’re way too cute when you blush.” You glared at his poor excuse of an apology, your bright red cheeks took the sting out of it. “I’m right, though.”

“Oh definitely.” “I’m sayin’.” Sunghoon and Jay agreed at the same time. The three of them high-fived, making you groan dramatically.

“You’re so mean! I’m staying with Jake tonight,” you stated and crossed your arms. The Aussie cheered while the laughter from the other three turned to loud protests. 

“I have a question.” Heeseung’s head popped into the doorway of Jake’s room. You looked up from your phone, moving from laying on your stomach to sit criss-cross on the bed. 

“Should I be worried?” You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course not.” You gestured for him to continue. “I know you haven’t had sex–”

“Heeseung.”

“It’s not about that, I promise!” He suppressed a laugh, covering it by clearing his throat. “Can I continue, your majesty?” You rolled your eyes.

“I suppose.”

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” He leaned on the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Nope. I didn’t see a point in dating or anything since I knew I’d meet my soulmate eventually,” you shrugged, now mildly concerned by Heeseung’s growing smirk.

“Can I be your first?” His enthusiasm reminded you of an excited puppy. You already knew your answer, but decided to mess with him a little bit first.

“Awe, are you still pouting about me sleeping in Jake’s bed tonight?” You ran a finger down your cheek, imitating a tear falling.

“I was not pouting.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you giggled as he glared half-heartedly. “Yes, Heeseung. You can be my first kiss.” He rushed into the room before you even finished your sentence. He propped one knee on the bed in front of you, cupping your jaw in one hand and immediately pressing his lips to yours. You squeaked at the lack of build-up, fully expecting Heeseung to be a massive tease. It was barely more than a peck and you hoped that your slight disappointment wasn’t visible on your face.

“What?” Heeseung grinned at your dazed expression, still close enough to feel his breath fan over your lips. “Did you want more?” There was the teasing you had braced yourself for. 

“Heeseung,” you whined, definitely wanting more. It was your turn to pout as he dodged your attempt to steal another kiss. 

“Ask nicely.”

“What??”

“If you want a better kiss, ask me for it.” He was smiling but his tone was completely serious. His thumb brushed over your cheek as you stared incredulously at him. You hoped he would cave and just give you what you wanted, but it would seem the other members did wonders at keeping him in check. 

“U-um, can I have a kiss?” You asked once you realized he wasn’t giving up that easily. 

“Come on, baby, you can do better than that,” he purred with his lips just barely brushing against yours. Based on how red your ears currently were, Heeseung knew he was going to have fun messing with you. Maybe a little too much fun.

“Fine,” you huffed. After another moment of hesitation, you swallowed your pride and pulled out your best puppy eyes. “Heeseung, can I please have a real kiss?”

“We’ll work on that.” Before you could process what he meant, he pulled you back in, sliding his hand from your jaw to the nape of your neck. You sighed into the kiss, much more satisfied now that you could properly feel the way he molded his mouth to yours. He sank down onto the bed so you were more level, allowing you to drape your arms over his shoulders. Your heart skipped a beat when his tongue skimmed over your bottom lip. 

“Y/N have you seen my- oh my god!” You jumped at Jake’s sudden appearance. Heeseung smothered his giggles in your shoulder, unbothered by the interruption. You stared at Jake, both of your faces turning bright red. 

“Well,” Heeseung started once he composed himself. “You should get ready for bed. Goodnight!” He kissed your temple then slid past Jake, disappearing down the hall. You cleared your throat.

“S-so, you were looking for something?” 

“Yes! Yes, have you seen my braided leather bracelet?” He asked, shaking his head and sitting on the edge of the bed- his bed. You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah,” you said while holding up your wrist. His bracelet sat snugly between your crystal and metal bracelets. 

“Oh right, I forgot I gave it to you.”

“Jake, you physically put it on my wrist. How did you forget?” You chuckled, dropping your hands into your lap. He shrugged, standing and moving back toward the door. “You can have it back, if you want.”

“Nah. Heeseung is right, though. Get some sleep, I’ll be back in a bit.” Jake hesitated in the entrance to the hallway. He glanced back at you, seeming to mull something over in his mind. “You okay?” You asked gently. He hummed, returning to your side so he could give you a very, very quick kiss before practically sprinting out of the room. You grinned and tucked yourself under the comforter. Despite your extended nap, it didn’t take long to succumb to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring good news.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Series Taglist: @wildtigerlili @jiyeons-closet @laylasbunbunny @channieismylove @tunafishyfishylike

Blogs in purple could not be tagged

[randomrambles3nonsenseetc]

Media Always Has a Purpose

Don't believe everything you see, ask questions, critique, find different sources & make an informed decision based on ALL the information you have.

Changing your mind is ok too, especially when more information becomes available

So I've been alive long enough to see some truly fkd up stuff over the years. Especially when it comes to media and paparazzi behaviour and how anything and everything about famous peoples lives becomes fodder for a magazine headline (these days a social media post).

The media behaves like a toddler on a sugar high, oscillating from mood to mood so rapidly that it makes your head spin if you don't take a break.

These days when media happens so fast, it can be difficult to know which way is up, let alone find some element of the truth in whatever it is they're trying to sell.

So, just to help my own brain work through the nonsense we keep seeing with Lukola, I asked Google a couple of questions and here was its answers:

Are famous people treated unfairly by the media?

The media sometimes makes a small thing into a big fuss which is the worst thing about them. They do not care about a celebrity's privacy they just want breaking news or any sort of news for their respective channel without the concern of the celebrity or about how they'll feel about the news.

Is media of famous people supposed to be positive?

No, media coverage of famous people isn't expected to be consistently positive. While some media outlets may aim for positive portrayals, the media landscape is diverse, and coverage can be critical, negative, or even sensational, depending on the celebrity, the event, and the media outlet's agenda. Celebrities are human and prone to mistakes, and the media often focuses on both the good and the bad, which can include scandals, controversies, and personal struggles. 

Here's a more detailed look:

Positive Coverage:

Some media may focus on a celebrity's achievements, charitable work, or inspiring stories, aiming to create a positive image. 

Negative Coverage:

This can include criticism of a celebrity's actions, behavior, or personal life, often focusing on scandals, controversies, or perceived flaws. 

Neutral Coverage:

Some coverage may be purely informational, focusing on news about the celebrity's work, projects, or public appearances without taking a strong stance. 

Sensational Coverage:

This type of coverage often focuses on drama, gossip, and controversy, aiming to generate attention and engagement, regardless of the truth or accuracy. 

Impact of Media:

Celebrity media can significantly influence how the public perceives and interacts with celebrities, shaping their image, career, and public perception. 

So here are my thoughts:

Its been a mantra in the entertainment industry for a long time, 'any PR is good PR.' However, we know that's not necessarily true. Media can make or break a person's public perception and have detrimental impacts on their career.... sometimes

For actors, celebrities, musicians etc PR is purposeful. Its entirely niaeve to think that PR is only supposed to be for good.

Examples:

Britney spears: when she lost the plot, she was all over the media. While this did, for a time, impact her career, she survived and as time passed we learnt more about what was occurring bts for Britney.

Mylie Cyrus and several other young actors who came of age in the public eye all had similar experiences of perceived public meltdowns, or simply disappeared from the public eye all together.

Mylie continues to thrive in her music career while other left the industry for a ehilenor entirely.

Johnny Depp and the Amber Heard trial...Johnny continues to have a career in acting.

Martin Sheen, Charlie Sheen rumours floating around for years about all their misdeeds. Did nothing to derail their careers, infact made them more common household names.

Robert Downey Jr: was a typical 'bad boy' in the 90's & early 2000's. All the publicity he got did not derail his career.

Then look at what the Media and Paparazzi did to Princess Diana.. need I say more.

Even some of the OG celebrities and actors always had insane media attention good, bad and otherwise.

Ie, Marilyn Munroe, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean Marlon Brando. Etc.

There is a theme: Media is purposeful.

So while we're frustrated, we KNOW that this is PR for the purpose of misdirection, & confusion. To get the fans to have their little freak outs and spend the next few hours or days analysing the photos while most likely Nic and Luke are travelling to a nice sunny spot for a well earned holiday.

To keep us distracted, analysing PR pics and arguing with each other so of course they're going to throw us more random pics and or clips of the adjacents because they know we're waiting and watching and eat that shit up like candy.

Let's be real, we've been conditioned to thrive on drama.

And Nic is a 'shit stirrer'

They know we're watching and waiting. Whatever is going on bts, we know or deeply believe the adjacent stuff is nonsense. But they are obviously navigating some complicated stuff in the background and only in THEIR timing will we see more of the truth.

At the end of the day:

Be true to your beliefs. Yes research, analyse, ask questions, but do not give up hope.

We know what we know and what we saw... That is what's real. Everything else is distraction.

[creation-help]

Hii! I've been on ur blog for a bit and all the writing advice is super duper helpful

I'm sort of having trouble with starting basically anything w writing right now. I'm a beginner, I feel like i really want to make something but at this point I'm sort of stumped 😭 I'm not sure how to come up with real ideas or how I should even start.

I want to get good at writing. I can draw but most of the time I don't really know what I want to cmake if that makes sense

Do you have advice for this? My apologies if you've already answered an ask like this before lol I don't mean to bother, I hope your having an amazing day <333

Hi! I understand this is a difficult situation but from the looks of It, I think your trouble is the mind jail you're in currently. We see it repeated on Tumblr often "Do it bad, do it imperfect, just do it", and I'd like to fully stand by that advice here when talking to you!

Struggles with starting

Really there's no easier way to say this, but you have to Just Start. However there are multiple ways to help you Just start!

- Have something to write with easily on hand at all times, you never know when the idea strikes! This can be phone or even a notepad!

- When the idea strikes GET IT. Pounce on it like a jaguar. Get itttt. If you don't feel like expanding on it, then leave it, but you need to start treating all possible ideas that you vibe with, as potential sprouts to grow! If you spend too much time second guessing or debating over if the idea is good enough or not, you Won't Write More. If the idea sucks, you don't have to commit! But don't let the ideas pass you by! If you get an idea catch it, write it down, find expansive questions to grow it with, get music, brainstorm, vibe, rest, repeat! You are always allowed to start and stop. You are the god of your writing.

- It is okay to suck. You don't have to be good to share, but you also don't even have to share if you don't want! You don't have to share anything to anyone!

Struggles with ideas

- Find inspiration. Where? Anywhere! Start new shows, new movies, read other people's writing, look at flowers on the sidewalk, ask your parents dumb Fandom questions, get into a new music genre. You don't have to follow through with everything but so long as you surround yourself with variety, you will be nurturing your creativity! Just get a steady flow of new stuff to enrich your brain. This is part of the soil your sprouts will need.

- Make mind maps, Google every little detail you can think of relating to your new idea when you have it (not so much you'd exhaust yourself tho!), interrogate yourself, ask people to ask you questions about your idea, go down pointless meanders and rabbitholes about the idea. Give it time to soak. Indulge it. Be a little pretentious over it even.

- Nothing is original anymore, and every different interpretation is valuable enough to exist. What you make is unique to yourself. These ideas all coexist

Struggles with skills

- I am going to say this very gently but firmly. You will get better by doing more. You will hone your skills by using them.

- There's loads of resources both online and irl to search from if you want to improve your writing! You can even try to imitate styles that you like and start moving from there. Kinda like how artists do Studies. You can also expand your vocabulary by searching up different words for things you already know, or words relating to the things you wanna write. It'll help lots! My personal recommendation for improving writing even a little bit is to be conscious of your word choices and make sure you don't overuse the same word too much, at least not in the same sentence. Unless that's the intended effect you're going for

As a closing statement I also wanna add that you should just take care of yourself in general. Sometimes your brain needs more enrichment to work better, or sometimes it just doesn't really give you much just because. Try not to get torn up over it and try again later.

Hope any of this helps! Be brave!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @toedenandbackagain! ToEdenandBackAgain has 7 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @toedenandbackagain:

hold me now, i need relief

hot (sticky, sweet)

sweet to taste (saccharine)

A Sign of The Morning

seasons change (so do we)

"Her fanfics are what got me into Steddie and Stranger Things and for that I am eternally grateful for that. (Also thank you again for reposting your fanfics back on AO3!!!)" -- anonymous

Below the cut, @toedenandbackagain answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

The urge to write Steddie really took me by surprise if I’m honest. I watched the first half of Season 4 (the superior half, imho), and something about Eddie’s character made me feel like he had way more to offer than what he was being given in canon. So when he and Steve started making eyes at one another, I was immediately on board.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love reading enemies to lovers, or enemies to friends to lovers. I love a slow burn like nothing else, the slower the better. I think there's so much opportunity in building a relationship within a fic, especially one that was originally not friendly.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love writing “long term pining” type fics. Especially of the “they're both in love with one another and neither realize it�� variety. There's so much to explore in that sort of story and I love making the characters suffer just a little.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question keeps me up at night because I love so many aspects of so many Steddie stories, which is such a cop out of an answer, I know 😂 I think that a Steddie story that has forever stuck with me was “Looks Like You're Hungry, Looks Like You're Drowning” by Capriciously_Terminal. Something about it just lingers, it was beautifully written. “Are You Flagging?” By soidade (my beloved) is also a forever favourite, it was the fic I was obsessively reading in my car before work. And during work. And at home.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I would love to explore time loops in a fic but I am just so overwhelmed with how to start. It was originally The Lathe by palm violet that sparked that urge and  I've never been able to shake it.

What is your writing process like?

I keep a log of every fic idea I ever come up with, even if it is just a handful of sentences or a quick snippet. Specific pairing ideas get grouped together, but as I'm writing I will usually come back to my Google doc of doom and scroll through to see if anything jumps out at me that could work with what I'm currently writing. I try to start with at least a rough structure of events before going in with the details, and I like to know vaguely how I intend for something to end before I even start writing. From there, I just go. I find writing in chronological order very difficult, so I like to write big scenes first, and fill in the gaps. I also love useless tidbits, little character quirks that go nowhere and mean nothing in the grand scheme of things but round out who I'm writing about and what their bigger picture story is outside of the story I'm telling.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I love to write on my phone. I know it isn’t for everyone, but I find some of my best writing work gets done when I’m hunched over my phone in the weirdest spots. Entire chapters of A Sign of the Morning were written in various office waiting rooms, on public transit, or from my work lunchroom.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I want to say posting when I’ve finished, but considering I wrote A Sign of the Morning in 12 days, and updated every day the exact moment I finished the chapter (no beta, no proofread, please forgive any and all absolutely horrific mistakes of that fic, they haunt me), I know that’s not the truth. I love sharing my stories, and I am always wanting to immediately put it out there for people. Posting when finished is, however, one of my goals as a writer. I would like to give readers a much more consistent upload schedule from me, and I’d love the comfort of knowing everything was finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

This is another one of these questions that had me stumped for a long time. Part of me wants to say A Sign of the Morning, because it is, to date, my longest completed fic, as well as the fic that has gotten the most attention in my entire fanfiction writing history. But it has a lot of flaws. A lot. But at the same time, it meant so much to me that any other answer feels wrong.

How did you get the idea for A Sign of the Morning?

I loved the idea that Steve and Eddie had to have crossed paths before at some point, and I had always loved Steve’s growth as a character in the series but I felt like it was missing something. Some of the first few scenes that I imagined were the swing set scene, and the final fight Steve has with his parents. I enjoy stories that have character growth amid romance, and I wanted asotm to have that. From there, it really took on its own life. But from the moment I first had the idea, I wanted the story to have a specific feeling, which eventually led to how I chose the name. I wanted this fic to feel like the moment you have after the worst night of your life, the night you didn't know if you would make it out the other side. And then on the horizon, you can see the sun coming up, and you realize that you've made it. Steve's journey with his sexuality, his friendship, his relationships- familial, platonic, and romantic, and his growth into adulthood amidst a whole ton of supernatural trauma was what I wanted to write about- with Steddie to weave it together.

When writing A Sign of the Morning, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response for this fic is nothing I've ever experienced in around 15 years of writing. I've never had that sort of attention on my work, and I'm so grateful for every person who left a comment, a kudos, or a kind message at my Tumblr. I was also shocked how much of it just … happened. I had a few key plot points when I started writing, but some chapters and storylines (the party at the Byers-Hopper house, El’s “tattoos”, the fight between Jason and Steve) just fit and almost wrote themselves.

What inspired sweet to taste (saccharine)?

I hadn’t intended on continuing the story from hot (sticky, sweet), but once I had posted it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I hadn’t really written a one shot like that before, where nothing actually happened between the characters and it was left hanging in the air with a “will they/won’t they”, and something about the one shot felt unfinished. But I also didn’t want to add another chapter, because I liked the standalone nature of the original and I wanted people who were happy with the ending to have the option to leave it as a flirty oneshot.

What was your favorite part to write from hot (sticky, sweet)?

The scene at the end of the story, outside Starcourt where Steve and Eddie are talking to one another was my favourite part to write. As much as the excess of samples scene holds a place in my heart, so many of my favourite lines are from that final scene. Eddie giving Steve his number by writing it on his arm and Steve sneaking Eddie into the theater really stick out in my mind.

How do/did you feel writing hold me now, i need relief?

The fic was originally inspired by the most beautiful piece of artwork by littleststarfighter on Tumblr, and from there the story really came together way faster than I was expecting. It was a harder fic to write than I anticipated. I wanted to explore a little bit of what Eddie’s life would be like if he survived, considering just how bad his injuries would have been. I have two conditions that cause chronic pain, and experienced an accident several years ago that exacerbated both of them to the point of not being able to get out of bed some days. Pouring a lot of those feelings into Eddie, writing the fic felt like a massive cathartic release and kind of a forgiveness to my past self for some of the things I had been hanging on to.

What was the most difficult part of writing seasons change (so do we)?

Right now, the actual writing part of it. I have the entire fic planned out scene to scene in a google doc somewhere, and this thing is fighting me every step of the way. Other than that, the hardest part of the chapters that are actually posted was probably getting into the heads of the characters from before we’ve known them, and making it seem realistic to who they are in canon. Writing bitchy Steve Harrington was a blessing and a curse, it was important to me to write him in a way that felt like he could connect seamlessly into S1 Steve Harrington without feeling disjointed.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Steve's final fight with his parents from A Sign of the Morning was in the works from the moment I started writing and when I finally got to it, everything felt perfect. The line where Steve asks his mother to let him leave is one I'm forever proud of. The final scene of a sign of the morning is another I'm partial to. Quiet, comforting love.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I'm getting back into writing! Slowly. Very slowly. I do have an ongoing Steddie WIP that haunts me throughout the day and I hope to update it soon.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

So many people have reached out to me about a sign of the morning helping them come to terms with their sexuality, or that it helped them feel comfortable coming out, and for some others it even made them realize that they were in bad relationships with people around them and I am forever honored to have had something I wrote have that kind of impact. Fanfiction got me through some of the darkest times in my life and for anyone who is in a place like Steve, or Eddie, or even any of the other characters and they are fighting every day to just exist in a world that's so much harder than it needs to be- I'm so proud of you. So proud.

Thank you to our author, @toedenandbackagain, and our nominator! See more of ToEdenandBackAgain's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[vivmaek]

MERCURY IN THE 6th HOUSE: Observations

People with this placement are incredibly efficient. Their mind is in tune with their body, they move quickly and with grace. These types can tackle a day full of tasks and errands with ease. In fact, staying busy and mentally stimulated through their work almost has a soothing effect upon them. Especially if it requires a hand on approach or some sort of physical movement. Mercury sixth housers are prone to nervousness and anxiety, and these feelings often showcase themselves as guilty thoughts. At the end of the night they might be plagued with ideas about their perceived failings. They struggle with imperfection and think small issues are bigger than they actually are. Discovering that they don't have enough time to finish a task, or noticing a minor detail being off within their work is enough to send them into a spiral. Especially if other people are depending on them. They put a lot of pressure on themselves and it can be difficult to live up to their own high expectations. This same type of attitude also applies to their health. Mercury sixth housers are known for their hypochondriac tendencies. It’s easy for them to convince themselves that something is wrong with their body. They’re the types to google symptoms for hours on end, desperate to find an answer to their problem which is most likely psychosomatic. Stress will take a toll on their body and it's important that they make time for rest. Having anxiety especially affects their stomach. They might struggle with nausea or a poor appetite. Developing a method for relaxation outside of productive activities and work is also important. Implementing daily walks or some sort of cardio into their routine can help. Meditation and breathing exercises would be easy for Mercury sixth housers to pick up on compared to most. They want to maintain control over their body in the same way they control the daily activities of their life. A cluttered space clutters up their mind and this is something they’d like to avoid. They have a talent for planning and organization, their approach is meticulous and almost scientific. They’re very practical and stick to routines that keep them down to earth. Mercury sixth housers also have a good grasp on economics and know how to manage their finances well. They pay their bills on time and are always tracking how much money is flowing in and out of their accounts. Ultimately, Mercury sixth housers are set up for success thanks to their quick witted minds.

✰ my masterlist

[mamaestapa]

I Wish You Would

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/n Hubbard, the younger sister of Cincinnati Bengals Defensive End Sam Hubbard, finds herself in a difficult situation after a steamy hookup with her brothers best friend, who just so happens to be the quarterback for the Bengals. In just nine months their lives will be changed forever. How will Y/n and Joe manage to to go through parenthood together? more so, how will Sam take the news he is going to be the uncle of his best friends baby?

•chapter summary: Sam pours his heart out to you and Joe, hoping you two will forgive him and his behavior from the past six months...

•word count: TBD…it’s a very long chapter though (i was too lazy to put it on a google doc lol. i’ll fix it later today)

•warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy hormones, reader is extremely turned on by Joe (whos not? LOL), slight smut/more like allusions to sex, mentions of pregnancy loss, SAM, some confrontation, some angst, fluff, basically the basic daddy issues warnings lol

series masterlist

—————————————————

May 21, 2023

6 months pregnant

You took a deep breath as you leaned against the counter, arms crossed over your chest and resting on your growing baby bump as you watched Joe prepare a protein shake after his workout. You huffed out a sigh as you watched the muscles in his biceps and forearms flex with each shake of the bottle. It was almost like they were teasing you, wanting you to grip them tightly as you and Joe...

"Y/n," Joe's voice snapped you out of your wandering thoughts, "You OK?"

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked into Joe's blue eyes, his gaze making butterflies swarm in your belly. You gulped slightly, hoping he didn't pick up on your body language. I'm OK, you thought, I'm more than just OK, actually..

I'm extremely turned on right now by your black compression shirt...

Your bulging and drenched in sweat arm muscles...

and don't even get me started on that ass...

"I'm great." You said with a small smile as you uncrossed your arms and adjusted the shirt that tightly hugged your body. Joe's gaze never once left you, making your body's excitement grow more and more.

Stupid pregnancy hormones. They've been raging recently, wanting you to pounce on your boyfriend at any moment and climb him like a tree. Joe could just glance at you and your body made you need him, all of him.

Joe furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you. It seemed like he wasn't believing your response. He set his shaker bottle down on the counter and made his way over to where you stood on the other side of the counter. Joe stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest which of course made your eyes wander. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the way his chest looked hugged by his compression shirt. Joe noticed your gaze fall to his chest. Oh. The lustful look in your eyes made him chuckle. Lovely pregnancy hormones.

Joe smirked as he uncrossed his arms and walked up to you, holding them out for you. "C'mere mamas."

The name had you practically melting into Joe's arms. You fell into his embrace, bringing your baby blue manicured hands up to his hard chest. You slowly ran your hands down Joe's chest and abdomen, your arousal growing as you felt each ab on your fingertips. You bit your lip slightly as your hands came back up settled on his sternum. Joe stood there as you felt his body, his arousal growing as you got up on your tip toes to kiss his neck. You started delicately sucking at the skin of his neck, making Joe groan softly. You kissed along his jaw line before going back to his neck, making sure to mark him up. Before you could leave a deep purple mark on his neck, Joe pulled away from you, making you whine.

"Joeyyy."

Joe narrowed his eyes at you. Already knowing the answer, he still decided to ask, "Why are you so..."

"Horny?" You finished for him. Joe chuckled at your bluntness, "Yeah."

You pulled yourself completely away from Joe and leaned against the countertop, "Well," you sighed, "I went to my doctors appointment a couple days ago." Joe nodded along as you spoke, interested to see where you were going with this.

"And not only are my hormones raging right now, but Doctor Montgomery said it might be a good idea to stop having sex once I reach the sixth month mark."

Joe's eyes widened slightly as his mouth formed an O. You sighed once again, bringing yourself close to your boyfriends chest again. "So Joe, please," you practically begged, "all I want is for your to slam me against this countertop and screw me like there's no-."

You got cut off by Joe's lips slamming onto yours. You instantly kissed back just as harshly. He pulled away, a small smirk on his face as he looked down at you. "Say no more..." he said, huskily under his breath. You let out a breath of anticipation as your smirk matched his.

Joe pushed you against the counter, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Jump." He instructed.

You did as he said, jumping just enough so you could sit on the countertop. You straddled his waist, your fingers digging into his toned back. You threw your head back, moaning as Joe put his lips against your neck, sucking at the skin just enough to get a reaction out of you, but not enough to leave deep marks. You brought your hands up to his hair, pulling on strands of his dark blonde hair, "Joe, don't stop..."

He pulled your tight fitting white t-shirt off of your body, throwing it across the room. Joe bit his lip, observing your chest which has gotten significantly bigger since you've gotten pregnant. You grabbed his hand, placing it on your right breast. His palm instantly kneaded at the swollen skin. Joe's other hand traveled down to your waist band, his skilled fingers hooking under and slowly pulling them down your thighs. Both of your breathing was quickening as he traced the lace of your panties...however, as Joe's fingers pulled at the material of your panties, a sudden wave of guilt came flooding over you. 

"Wait," you suddenly pulled away from Joe, making him remove his hands from your waist. "stop." you said, removing his other hand from your chest. Joe pulled away from you completely with a puzzled look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I feel..." you trailed off, pulling your pants back up and gulping slightly as you made eye contact with a concerned and confused Joe, "dirty." 

Joe's eyes widened slightly as he was taken aback by your confession, "D-dirty?" he chuckled, "Why d'you feel dirty, babe?"

You put your hands on your belly, "Because we have the little guy in here listening to everything, and it just feels wrong." You shuddered at the thought of the baby boy in your womb hearing everything.

"Babe, we've done it before with the little guy in there," Joe said, gesturing to your bump as he reassured you, "It's fine, really."

You shook your head, your hormones suddenly changing their minds. "I was only what, three months pregnant? I was barely showing, and he couldn't hear things. Now, I am really showing, and he can hear us, Joe. Do you really want our son to hear us having sex while he's in here?" You finished, pointing to your baby bump.

Joe laughed, "You- seriously?" You giggled, "Yes, seriously!"

"Y/n, baby, he's going to hear us when he's out of there, so he might as well get used to it now."

You gasped at Joe's words, lightly hitting his chest as both of you chuckled at his joke. He did have a point...but that didn't stop you from feeling guilty, nor did it change your mind at all.

"Maybe we should just wait to do this until after I give birth. I feel guilty if we finish..." You trailed off with a sigh. You looked up at Joe, smiling sadly as you looked into his eyes. He was just as turned on as you were...what a bummer. "I'm sorry, Joey."

Joe chuckled as he picked up your shirt and tossed it to you. "Stop. Don't be sorry." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before he spoke, " It's fine with me, sweetheart. Whatever makes you the most comfortable."

"Thank you, Joe." You said quietly as a smile tugged at your lips. He was so patient with you and your pregnancy hormones. It meant a lot to you that he was so patient despite the raging hormones and mood swings you were experiencing. You pulled away from Joe, placing a gentle kiss to his lips which he gladly returned. You let out a soft sigh before you spoke, "It's probably a good thing we didn't participate in any...activities."

Joe chuckled at your use of the word "activities".

"Because," you continued, glancing at the clock, "we're supposed to meet Sam for lunch in forty minutes."

Joe's mouth formed a straight line as his shoulders dropped at the mention of your older brothers name. The brother you haven't spoken to since the day of your sister in-laws baby shower. The day that was supposed to be a happy and exciting day, turned into one of the worst day of yours and Joe's lives. Joe didn't want to see Sam, not after all the drama and hurt he caused you both emotionally and physically. Maybe he was being overdramatic, but Joe doesn't think he'll ever forgive Sam for being the reason you could have lost your unborn son.

"Joe," you said his name softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Joe hummed in response. You noticed how he tensed up and how his jaw clenched at the mention of meeting up with Sam.

"I know you don't want to see him, but I think it would be good for us, all of us to hear what he has to say."

Joe just nodded at your words. You frowned softly as you said the next part, "And as much as I want to stay mad at him for everything he has done to us and our relationship. I really miss my brother."

Joe sighed softly as he snaked an arm around your waist, gently pulling you into him. He didn't want to admit it, but deep down he did miss Sam, too.

"I know," Joe said, "I miss him too."

You smiled sadly and pulled away from Joe, grabbing his hand and slowly leading him out of the kitchen, "Then let's go get ready." Joe nodded and followed you out of the kitchen and upstairs to get ready for lunch with Sam.

It was a day you were both dreading, but you knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later. After hearing how guilty and genuinely sorry he seemed, you realized you needed to let Sam talk and have the opportunity to apologize. You and Joe needed to hear where he was coming from. You may not always agree or get along, but he is your brother. What he did wasn't right, but you can't ignore him forever. While it may take some time and effort from all three of you, Sam does deserve a chance to make things right.

time skip

You and Joe walked into the restaurant you agreed to meet Sam at, both of you simultaneously taking a deep breath as you stepped through the entrance. It wasn't too fancy, just a local sandwich shop in Cincinnati, a place you and the other wags met up at often during the off-season. Sam made sure to have you all meet up when it wasn't super busy since you didn't want to be bombarded by fans. You also didn't want any speculation to start swirling around the league after you were seen sporting a baby bump while out with the star QB...

You knew you wouldn't be able to hide your unborn baby and his fathers identity forever, but you liked what privacy you and Joe had for now. You would tell the world about everything when you were ready, and right now is not that time.

As you walked further into the shop, you saw Sam sitting in a booth, staring intently at his phone. You took another deep breath as you looked at your brother. You could feel your heart race and your palms grow clammy as you realized it was finally time to have that conversation or should you say conversations you've been dreading. You and Joe agreed to go into this day with an open mind, wanting to stay as civil as possible. You’d only get confrontational with Sam he if he got confrontational with the two of you.

Joe could sense you tense up beside him, so he placed a hand on the small of your back, giving your hip a gentle reassuring squeeze. You looked up at him and smiled softly, giving him a small nod before the two of you made your way over to Sam.

As you grew closer to the booth he was sat in, Sam snapped his head up from his phone. His eyes lit up as he saw you and Joe standing in front of him. He didn't think you were going to show up.

Sam stood up, wiping his hands on his shorts and taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"Y/n, Joe," he said, sounding almost relieved to see both of you, "hi."

"Hi Sam," you said softly, giving your older brother a small smile, "it's good to see you." Sam smiled sadly at you, his blue eyes apologetic as he replied sincerely, "It's good to see you too, Y/n/n. I've missed you."

"We've missed you too." Joe answered, making your older brothers eyebrows raise slightly. He wasn't expecting that answer to come from Joe, and neither were you. You briefly looked up at Joe before turning your attention back to Sam, giving him a closed lip smile.

"You want to order some food and maybe get a table outside? It’s pretty nice out, plus it gives us some privacy." You said, voice growing quieter by the end of your suggestion. Your brother and boyfriend nodded, agreeing with what you said. The three of you proceeded to the counter to order your sandwiches before heading outside. After getting your food, Joe chose a table for you to sit at a few feet away from the entrance. Once you were all seated and settled, Sam spoke up.

"So how have you two been?"

"Really good," Joe said, glancing at you with a small smile on his face. You nodded, adding on, "I had an appointment last week, passed my glucose test and baby boy looks great." Sam smiled at that, "Good," he said , "I'm glad to hear that."

You smiled, "Thank you. He had us worried there for a while, but doctor says he's happy and healthy."

Sam's smile faltered slightly at the mention of how your baby's health had you and Joe worried for a bit. It took a lot of reassurance from Emma and the others that it wasn't his fault and scares like that can just happen, but Sam still couldn't help but feel guilty about the whole situation. He put so much stress on you and Joe during those early months, he knew it had to be his fault.

Sam gulped slightly, "Well I’m happy to hear that. You look great by the way, Y/n/n."

Sam's nickname for you made you smile slightly. While he's made you extremely upset and been quite a douche lately, you canto deny that you've missed him so much.

"Thanks Sammy," you replied, your nickname for Sam making him smile this time, “How’s Emma doing?”

“Good, her and baby girl are healthy. Em’s a bit uncomfortable though. Just ready to have the baby,” Sam chuckled, “but I constantly have to remind her she’s still got about eight more weeks left to grow.”

“It’s because she’s growing your big ass baby, Sam. How much more growing could she have left?” Joe said, joking with his best friend, “is she measuring ahead at all?”

Sam chuckled lightly at Joe’s teasing before answering, “Yeah she’s actually measuring two weeks ahead. We’re going in for an ultrasound in two weeks to confirm, but doctor thinks the due date will get moved up.”

“That’s great if it does,” you smiled, “Not only does it save her weeks of discomfort, but your daughter will be here before training camp.” Sam nodded at your words, “Oh yeah,” he agreed, “we’re hoping that’s the case.”

You and Joe nodded in agreement. You’re not at that point in your pregnancy yet where you’re extremely uncomfortable, but you know you’ll be feeling exactly how Emma feels in just a few weeks. For now though, you’re just thankful for how good you feel during the end of your second trimester.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, you, Joe and Sam ate your lunch in a mix of tense, yet comfortable silence while making the occasional small talk. It was obvious the three of you wanted to get into the reason why you’re meeting up today, but nobody seemed to be the one that wanted to bring it up.

You knew Joe wouldn’t bring it up. At all. And you didn’t necessarily want to be the one to start the conversation, but you also didn’t want to avoid the discussion anymore than the three of you already were. Someone just had to “rip off the bandaid” and finally start that conversation…

You wiped the corners of your mouth before folding your napkin in your hand and setting it down on the table. You adjusted your position in the chair you sat in, uncrossing your legs and sitting straight up. You cupped your bump and cleared your throat before speaking up, “I hate to be the one to bring it up…” you trailed off, eyeing the two men sitting with you, “but we do need to talk.”

“Yeah.” Joe sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his fingers through his grown out hair. Sam nodded as he too adjusted his position, “We do.” He confirmed, sighing softly after he spoke. Sam wore an apologetic expression as his eyes darted between you and Joe. He took a deep breath before taking a moment to spill his heart out to both of you. Months of pent up emotions would be spewing out in just a matter of seconds.

“I don’t even know where to begin. I just, I feel terrible. Terrible about how I’ve been treating you two and how I reacted to the baby—your baby. Terrible about what happened the day of Emma’s baby shower. If it wasn’t for me and my outbursts, you guys wouldn’t have almost lost your baby boy that day.” Sam’s voice cracked with emotion as he said the word “baby”.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you listened to Sam’s voice break. Joe brought his hand under the table and placed it on your protruding belly. He started to stroke the bump with his thumb, comforting both himself and you with the reassurance that your son was still safe and sound in your womb.

Sam continued speaking, “And don’t even get me started on the Ohio State situation. I had no right getting in-between the two of you like I did, even if it was for the best.” he sighed softly, as tears began to well in his eyes, “I, god, I feel terrible about everything I’ve done.”

You frowned as you saw how emotional Sam was getting. He did seem like he genuinely felt bad. You wanted to speak, but Sam wasn’t done.

“I understand if you never want to see me again—either of you. I wouldn’t want to see me ever again either if I were you.” Sam wasn’t one to usually show his emotions, but right now he was showing all of his emotions. His chin quivered as he spoke, “I am so, so sorry for all of the shit I’ve done and said to both of you. Not just with the pregnancy, but with your relationship. Neither of you deserve the shit I’ve put you through, and I am so sorry for that. I wish things could go back to how they were before between us. I wish I wasn’t selfish. I wish I wasn’t such an asshole. I wish you two would come back into my life again because…”

You and Joe stayed silent as Sam spewed out his jumbled apology. You were trying to process all the things he was saying to you, while also allowing him to have the chance to get everything off of his chest.

“I love you both so much,” Sam continued, his tone somber, “Y/n/n you’re my baby sister and Joey, we’ve been friends for so long that you���re not just my best friend, you’re my brother. I should’ve never treated you guys the way I did because as long as you’re happy, I should be happy, right?” He sighed once again, taking a moment to think of the right words to say next, “I’m genuinely sorry for the last few months. I’ve been overreacting like crazy, and if you’ll let me, I’d like another chance. I want to make things right.”

You took a deep breath as you took in all of Sam’s words, which was a lot to take in. Joe removed his hand from your bump, bringing it up to his hair. He wet his lips as he ran his fingers through his grown out hair. The air between the three of you was tense as Sam waited anxiously for either you or Joe to respond to him pouring his heart out.

“Sam,” Joe spoke, his voice quiet. Both you and Sam turned your attention to the blonde sitting next to you. “I understand why you reacted the way you did when we told you about the baby. I do, and I forgive you for that. But,” he sighed before continuing, “Why did you do it? If you love us as much as you say you do, if you want us to be happy as much as you say you do, why did you do it?” His voice was full of confusion and pain. You could feel the tears well in your eyes at the sound of Joe’s voice. You knew exactly what he was referring to…and so did Sam.

“I was trying to protect both of you.” Was all Sam said. Joe furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side, “From what?”

“A lot. Protect Y/n getting her heart broken and losing the one boy she ever truly loved. Protect you from getting stuck at Ohio State and throwing away your whole career for my sister. Joe, I love you man but you and I both know things would’ve ended worse between you two if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“You were protecting us from eachother?” you asked, voice laced with so much confusion and emotion. It didn’t make any sense to you.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed, “I was protecting both of you from eachother.”

“But Why?” You and Joe asked at the same time.

“Because I knew it wasn’t going to work between you two at the time.”

You and Joe both furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Why?” You asked, genuinely confused. Sam scoffed lightly, “If you’d let me explain, maybe it’ll answer your question.” You and Joe closed your mouths, your silence urging Sam to continue.

“Joe, you were in love with my sister since the day you met her, and Y/n, you couldn’t stop drooling over Joe after I let you spend the night at our apartment for the first time.”

You and Joe both blushed lightly at Sam’s words. Neither of you had realized he knew all along about the infatuation you and Joe had for each other as young adults.

Sam continued, “And as much as you loved each other, I knew it wasn’t going to work out at the time. Joe, if you stayed at Ohio State I doubt you would’ve gotten any playing time until it was too late. I knew for you to achieve your dreams, you had to go to LSU—even if it meant breaking my baby sister’s heart. And Y/n,” Sam turned to you as he spoke, “if Joe would’ve stayed in Ohio he would’ve held you back from getting that internship in Los Angeles that gave you your job for the Bengals. You needed that time away from him and he needed that time away from you.”

You hated to admit it, but Sam did have a point. If Joe would’ve stayed at Ohio State…would you even have your job with the Bengals right now? Better yet, would Joe even have his job with the Bengals? It all started to make sense now…

Sam didn’t make Joe break up with you in college because he didn’t want you two together…

He did it because he wanted you two to find yourselves before finding each other.

“I felt like an ass having that conversation with Joe, acting like I hated the idea of you two dating. I knew it had to be done though for both of you to have the futures you wanted. But, I knew it would all work out for you,” He looked at both you and Joe with a genuine glint in his eyes, “Because you two were so in love that I knew someday you’d find your way back to each other,” Sam smiled softly as he looked between you and Joe, “and look at you now. You’ve got your dream jobs, you’re in a happy relationship, and you’re having a baby. Now you can say I’m wrong all you want, but, it looks like you found your way back to each other after all.”

You glanced over at Joe. The corner of his mouth was pulled up into a slight smirk as he shook his head at Sam.

“Wow,” he said, a light laugh escaping his lips, “You, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You really were looking out for us.” You said, looking back at Sam. He nodded, “Could I have executed it better? Oh yeah. But did it work? I’d say it did.”

You smiled slightly at your brother as tears welled in your eyes. You were overwhelmed by everything Sam had just told you. He knew all along that you and Joe were sneaking around behind his back. He knew how much you and Joe have always loved each other. His actions in college weren’t out of spite against you two, really, he was just looking out for both of you all along. It was hard to stay mad him now, now that you found out the truth behind everything.

You stood up from the you were sitting in, walking over to the other side of the table where Sam sat. He stood up from his chair, and as soon as he was standing you wrapped your arms around him. The two of you hugged tightly in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“I forgive you Sammy.”

Sam smiled and squeezed you gently. He pulled away from you, turning his attention from you to Joe, who was now standing. You stepped to the side, letting the two have their moment. Joe pulled Sam into a “bro hug”, the two not saying a word, just nodding and slapping the others back the way men do when they hug. After pulling away from each other, the three of you sat back down.

The air amongst you wasn’t as tense as before Things were finally starting to feel normal between the three of you again. You spent the next teeny minutes talking some more, all three of your sharing some more of your feelings. You and Joe both agreed to give Sam a second chance. Your son deserves to have great relationship with his Uncle Sammy.

"Do you guys want to meet Emma and I for dinner next week?" Sam asked before the three of you went your separate ways. You smiled at your brother, your smile only widening as you glanced up at Joe. A content smile was on his face as he nodded at Sam. He didn’t have to say anything. You and Joe both knew that this was his way of beginning to forgive Sam for everything.

"We'd love to."

"Okay, great," Sam replied with a smile, "Jeff Ruby's or Boca at eight?"

"We've never been to Boca." Joe replied for the both of you with a shrug.

"Boca it is then."

After months of you and Joe both not speaking to Sam and being on not-so great terms, after today, it's safe to say things might finally be starting to look the way they did before this mess. While it's still a work in process, you finally had your big brother back in your life and Joe finally had his best friend back in his life.

You both couldn't be happier.

hi loves!!!

omg long time no see, lol. i feel like haven’t updated this in such a long time! (it’s because i actually haven’t😂)

i’ve been dealing with college, writers block, a football funk, and having ZERO motivation to write for this series. it was tough for a while because i loved working on this series over the summer, but something happened (i don’t even know what) and i lost all motivation for this series. maybe it was because football season wasn’t feeling like football season or because i started watching hockey. i don’t really know why, but the good news is, i finally have ALL my motivation back!!🤍

and with joe being out for the rest of the season now, i’ll be keeping up with updates for this series because i know that’ll keep our “joe community” happy while our joey recovers from his injury :)

i apologize if this chapter is all over the place and if the conversation with sam makes absolutely ZERO SENSE. i wrote that at like 4am, plus, i had no clue how to write this chapter. i just knew i needed to get it done and published! the next couple chapters im so excited to write, they’re going to be so sweet🤍

thank you so much for all the love and support you all continue to show me. it means the world to me. thank you for your patience too, i know it’s not always easy waiting months for updates lol. you are all the BEST!😚🫂🤍

tags: @dandelionwrites8 @joeburreauxsworld @theflawedwriter @mrsshiesty @ann288 @ijustcrypretty @theoneandonlyfanz @wickedfun9 @venus-b @hummusxx @stainednailpolishremover @a-moment-captured @alternativemadchen @erinmartin1987 @sirlewisworld @kkrenae @unhingedfangirl @sublimemusic-rebel @meameagirl @ilovejoeburroww @hallecarey1 @j-worlds-blog @blinkloverx3 @jordyn14 @kristencochefski1125 @ryiamarie @unsaidjaelinrose @sinners-98-world @ozwriterchick @evernova @fangirl-madz @jackharloww @emherb10

[gunnerfc]

❄️ WOSO FICMAS: Dec. 13 - Alexia Putellas ❄️

Alexia Putellas x Reader ( actor ) | WC: 1190

Dec. 13 prompt - surprise visit after thinking they’d be apart on Christmas

-> all translations from google!

-> woso ficmas masterlist can be found here!

Being an actor was fun, you got to spend hours playing someone new and traveling the world to film or do press. Acting brought you a lot of success throughout your career thus far and it was exciting to see where you would go. The main downfall though was having to spend multiple months on location filming which meant being away from your loved ones.

Sometimes filming continued through the holidays, meaning you might be missing spending Christmas with your girlfriend, Alexia. You and Alexia had met while you were filming a different project in Spain, you had bumped into each other literally at a club. The Barça girls were out celebrating another El Clásico win while you and some cast mates were out celebrating the end of filming. Neither of you were paying attention to where you were walking and ran into each other, spilling the contents of your drink on the midfielder. 

You had apologized multiple times with Alexia assuring you each time that it was okay. You had offered her your jacket to cover up the liquid stain showing on her shirt, which she took after asking you to let her get you another drink. This was three years ago and since then the two of you have spent as much time together when your jobs allowed for it. Most of your time was spent in Barcelona since it was easier for you to travel but there were times when Alexia would join you on set for a few days if she could.

It was currently two days before Christmas and filming for your current film was taking longer than expected due to some set malfunctions. These delays kept you from flying to Spain from Australia as you originally planned which hurt both you and Alexia. With the season in full swing, it was hard for either of you to see one another and you were determined to spend some time together during the break Alexia had from club football.

You had been in contact with Alexia’s sister Alba after you told Alexia that you didn’t think you'd be able to leave set for a few days for the holidays. You hated seeing her upset and started forming a plan to surprise her the moment the call ended. You didn’t care if you got in trouble with the producers or director, what were they going to do? Fire you? You were the leading actor in the movie, they couldn’t do that.

It was difficult trying to get a flight on such short notice but after a long flight from Australia, you were waiting for your luggage in Barcelona. The only flight you could find was set to arrive in Spain on Christmas morning so you figured it would be the best Christmas surprise for Alexia. After claiming your bags, you quickly got a cab to take you to Alexia’s place where you knew she would be with her mother and sister.

Standing outside of Alexia’s door, you were eager to see her again, the last time you saw Alexia was after Spain won the World Cup in August. You pulled out your phone to text Alba that you were at the door, not wanting to knock and alert Alexia of your presence just yet.

Y/N:

Hola chica! ¡Estoy aquí! (i’m here!)

Alba:

Vale, ¡dame un minuto! (okay! Give me a minute!)

You stood patiently outside the door, waiting for the younger of the two sisters to answer the door, completely unaware of the conversations happening inside.

“¿A quién le envías mensajes, Alba? (who are you texting, Alba?)”  Eli questioned, her youngest daughter too preoccupied with her phone to be a part of the conversation.

“Nadie. Ya vuelvo. (nobody. I’ll be right back.)” Alba responded as she stood up from her place on the couch to make her way to the front door.

Alexia and Eli shared a look as the youngest of the trio left the room, confusion on both of their faces. Alexia picked up her phone, hoping you might have sent her a text but didn’t think too much of it when there was no notification on her phone since you were on the other side of the world, either working or sleeping.

Alba let you in, with whispered greetings and a tight hug as you crossed the threshold. You sat your bags by the door, they could be dealt with later. Alba motioned for you to wait a second before following her, wanting to make some kind of statement before you entered the room.

“¡Hay un regalo más para ti, Ale! (there’s one more gift for you, ale!)” Alba cheered when she rounded the corner.

Alexia looked up from her spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow in confusion at her sister. Her eyes fell on you when you entered the room, they widened in surprise when you locked eyes.

“Sorpresa mi amor (surprise my love),” you mumbled, still not believing you were actually in her home right then.

Alexia didn’t say anything as she got from the couch, moving in your direction and wrapping her arms around your waist. Your arms locked around her neck and you buried your face in her neck, inhaling her familiar scent. 

Alba joined her mother as they left the room to give the two of you some space. They could speak to you later after Alexia let you go.

“Te extrañé mucho, y/n (I missed you so much),” Alexia sighed, her arms tightened around you.

“Yo también te extrañé (I missed you too),” you cooed, pulling back slightly to look at her face.

The two of you stood there in silence for a second before you both leaned in. Your lips met in a heated kiss, the months of not seeing each other had been too long without touching each other. Alexia pulled away first when air became an issue though her arms didn’t leave your body.

“¿Pensé que no podías irte? (I thought you couldn’t leave)” the blonde asked, confused about how you were here.

“No me importaba lo que dijeran, volvería a casa sin importar nada. (I didn’t care what they said, I was coming home no matter what)” you sniffled, feeling overwhelmed with being in Alexia’s arms again.

Alexia pulled you into another tight hug, this one shorter than the first. When you both pulled away, Alexia took your hand in hers and led you to the kitchen to greet her mother and sister. Eli pulled you into a hug, one tighter than the one Alexia had given you. The older woman missed having you around, you brought out a different side to her daughter. 

You spent the rest of Christmas morning giving the family the gifts you had picked out for them that you thought you wouldn’t be able to give them. When nighttime rolled around, you were thrilled to be able to sleep in the same bed as Alexia, having missed being so domestic with the star midfielder. You cherished your short break, promising that the second you wrapped, you would be on a plane back home to your lover.

[abyssalzones]

What's your comic writing process like? I'm starting to get into making my own comics and I really admire your work!!! Any advice?

Ah, intrepid traveler, you've done well to journey to this secluded mountaintop spire, in search of the answers you seek. I indeed can provide such forbidden comicmancy knowledge... at the cost of your mortal soul...

coughs. anyway, I'm going to warn you immediately that what works for me does not work for everyone else, and in my experience the way I do things can prove very slow and discouraging for anyone who is more interested in the actual "drawing the damn comic" part of the process. I only do it this way because I enjoy weaving a narrative web that feels not only fully contained but re-readable, but my projects are often so long and my memory so shitty that I can't just keep all of it in my head! It would spill all over the place and make a really embarrassing mess of brain-juice. Not ideal.

but as for my own process, uhh... I suppose a comic would be fitting, right?

a little choppy but you get the idea.

as for turning words into art, I've been experimenting with figuring out the best way to do that for a little while now. Originally what I was doing for something like Ad Astra Per Aspera was to take my "script" and sketch it out on paper very loosely, before transposing that onto my canvas and working from there:

...but, I've found that can make it kind of difficult to space everything around on your standard page-size, and the thing I'm having the most problems with currently seems to be finding the sweet spot of panel-size proportions. So, I've taken to printing out standard thumbnail templates (you can just find these on google) and sketching very tiny panels in those, which seems to give me a slightly better sense of scale... (mild chapter 5 spoilers, sorry ad astra fans)

but I have yet to totally pull through on this, so who knows, maybe I'll try something else in the future!

As for advice, this is probably most applicable to me, but as a disabled artist I have a very hard time managing my workload without literally working myself into injury. I don't think I talked about this publicly but when I was working on that ten year anniversary comic I was literally drawing every single day for 3 solid months. Sometimes, in my case, I really can't bring myself to stop once I've latched onto an idea, and sometimes I find the most rewarding thing I can do with my time is to draw- but I seriously cannot overstate: Do not fucking do this.

You will fuck up your wrist, your back, your neck, your eyes, and probably your mental health. It's a well-known fact that mangaka have a lower life expectancy than the average japanese person due to the intense workload imposed on them by deadlines and personal expectations. Comics are a very demanding artform, and even though I'm not on any sort of mandated schedule there are times where I've toiled away at something when I likely should have been exercising or taking vision-breaks. Therefore the best advice I can give you is to chill the hell out.

Namely, find parts of the process you can be lazy about, and embrace the laziness! You don't like digitally sketching? Don't do it! Skip it, or maybe find a way to traditionally sketch things out in advance like I do. Hate lineart? Don't fucking do it. You really don't feel like wasting your time writing 72k words of comic scripts? ...then, don't be like me. skip that part. I'm a flawed human being and what works for me might not work for you.

The second most important piece of advice I could give is to read comics. Of all kinds. The reason for this is pretty self explanatory: In order to figure out your own comic-making style, you should first pick out bits and pieces from the artist's buffet to add to your plate. Manga, graphic novels, american comics, european comics, weird niche little webcomics, funny papers, anything and everything. This advice rings true of pretty much any art form, but I find it to be essential to honing comic-making skills because so many things you feel will just come intuitively often don't. and that's okay! nobody is born knowing how to leave space for speech bubbles or shape their panels in a way that imitates stretches of time. The best way to figure out stuff like this, in my experience, is to study the "masters", and then after becoming well accustomed to the basics, figure out what rules you want to bend or break to create your own style.

I consider myself to be in equal parts a writer and an artist, which lends itself well to making narrative comics, but maybe you're a bit more of an artist and want to focus on panel-by-panel visual storytelling. Or, conversely, maybe your talents lean closer towards writing, and the art itself is more of a secondary skill. Regardless of your unique blend of talents you can and should make a comic, you should just also be aware of your strengths and try to hone in on those- there will always be opportunities to build up skills you lack, but focusing on what you do best will always lead you in the right direction.

Anyway, that being said, here are some recommendations in no particular order:

Monster, Naoki Urasawa (!!)

Bone, Jeff Smith

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

The first IDW run of Transformers comics (namely More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light)

Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi (!!)

Through the Woods, Emily Carroll (really any Emily Carroll comics)

Kill Six Billion Demons (webcomic) (!!)

Akira, Katsuhiro Otomo

The Third Person, Emma Grove

Tintin, Hergé (can be super racist please be wary)

Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Watterson

Maus, Art Spiegelman

Cucumber Quest (webcomic)

Jellyfish Princess, Akiko Higashimura

Golden Kamuy, Satoru Noda (!!)

Note that I did not grow up with manga so I am seriously behind on a lot of extremely influential japanese comics such as Dragon Ball, One Piece, basically any of the original Shonen Jump comics, but they're widely considered building blocks of the genre so if you love the artform I think you should give them a try! Same goes for classic non-shonen manga genres like various Shoujo, Josei, Yuri, Gekiga, ETC.

same as above applies to a lot of classic DC and Marvel works, I unfortunately am just not a big fan of superhero comics... but I'm sure there's good stuff in there. a couple of my mutuals talk about booster gold and the blue beetle all the time so I'm assuming there has to be something worthwhile.

...and many, many, many more that I'm forgetting! I noticed as I made this list that, to my knowledge, hardly any of these are made by black or just non-japanese-mangaka BIPOC artists, which makes me sad about the gaps in my own comic collection. Therefore, anyone is welcome to add their own recommendations in the replies!

now go forth, and combine images with text!!!!!!!!!!!

[rottenpumpkin13]

holy shit

has sephiroth really tried to google where and who his parents were?

Imagine him as a really little kid, somehow sneaking into Hojo's office when he's not there to log onto the computer and access the internet. He's so nervous as he looks over his shoulder, his shaking hands moving the mouse and typing fast, constantly checking the door because he knows there will be punishment if Hojo catches him.

He knows there will be results if he looks up his name. Even as a child, people know who he is. He knows there will be articles and fan club pages for him, but that's not what he's hoping to find.

He pulls up the search engine.

"Sephiroth family"

"Sephiroth parents"

"Sephiroth mother"

"Who is Sephiroth's mother?"

"Does Sephiroth have a mother?"

Nothing comes through, and even at that age Sephiroth suspects they're purposely omitting results. So he quickly clears the search history and makes peace with the dead end.

He tries again a few years later, now a hopeful young teen with access to the internet that isn't confined to Hojo's computer. He has a name and a face to aid his search now, so it can't be too difficult, right?

"Jenova"

"Jenova Sephiroth"

"Jenova Sephiroth mother"

"Jenova Sephiroth Shinra"

"Sephiroth mother"

"Does Sephiroth have a mother?"

Another dead end. The image results don't provide anything helpful either. No matter how many hours he scrolls and clicks links, he never sees the woman on the locket. They must be omitting results. This time he's sure of it.

And yet he tries again years later. Now he's older, and old enough to "cease this childish yearning for his mother"—in Hojo's words. He knows the search will prove fruitless once again. But he has to keep trying. He knows he'll find her eventually.

"Who is Sephiroth's mother?"

Sephiroth's heart sinks as a flurry of gossip pages and fan club forums appear, all of them speculating over where Sephiroth's parents are. Some say his mother died when he was young, others say he's an orphan, most of them say he never had a family, that he was bred inside Shinra for the exact purpose of serving them and nothing more. Sephiroth wishes they were wrong. He feels sick, so he closes his laptop and vows to never put himself through this pain again. He'll just have to make peace with the lack of answers.

[nickjunesource]

GILEAD É EUGENISTA. A POSSIBILIDADE DE O FILHO DA ROSE TER ALGUMA ANOMALIA OU PROBLEMA DE SAÚDE JA FOI MENCIONADO UMA VEZ, A FRAGILIDADE SA SAÚDE DA ROSE FOI MENCIONADO MUITAS VEZES, E WORTON COMENTOU COM A SERENA DE COMO FOI DIFÍCIL PROTEGER A VIDA DA FILHA 'CLARO QUE ELE ESTAVA SE VENDENDOCOMO BIM HOMEM'. ACHA QUE GILEAD TEM POLÍTICA DE EXTERMÍNIO A BEBÊS ATÍPICOS? E QUE ELES PODERIAM MATAR O BEBÊ DO NICK? ESSE SERIA UM BOM MOTIVO PARA ELE ODIAR GILEAD.

Hey, none of us know Portuguese, so we'll answer in English and then attach a translation run through google translate. We hope that this is alright and that it's still understandable.

Olá, nenhum de nós sabe português, então responderemos em inglês e depois anexaremos uma tradução feita pelo Google Tradutor. Esperamos que esteja tudo bem e que ainda seja compreensível.

The question and response in English is as follows:

GILEAD IS A EUGENIST. THE POSSIBILITY OF ROSE'S SON HAVING SOME ABNORMALITY OR HEALTH PROBLEM HAS ALREADY BEEN MENTIONED ONCE, THE FRAGILITY OF ROSE'S HEALTH HAS BEEN MENTIONED MANY TIMES, AND WORTON COMMENTED WITH SERENA ABOUT HOW DIFFICULT IT WAS TO PROTECT HIS DAUGHTER'S LIFE 'OF COURSE HE WAS SELLING HIMSELF AS A GOOD MAN'. DO YOU THINK GILEAD HAS A POLICY OF EXTERMINING ATYPICAL BABIES? AND THAT THEY COULD KILL NICK'S BABY? THAT WOULD BE A GOOD REASON FOR HIM TO HATE GILEAD.

So in the books, babies that are born disabled are killed which means that it's very possible that on the show we will see this happen to Rose and Nick's baby, even for something minor like hip dysplasia. Unlike Wharton who was a wealthy, powerful man even before Gilead, within it Nick is not and so it's likely he'd not have the influence to protect Rose and their child. If this is what happens, it would be yet another reason for Nick to hate Gilead and would be the final straw, meaning he'd finally leave as there is nothing left for him there any more and he'd have seen that even as a Commander he cannot change things in Gilead; that there is no reforming the system from within and no using New Bethlehem to make Gilead safer and better.

We're not sure how likely this story is though. The remarks last season came from a cruel, ableist wife who wanted to hurt Rose and were meant to show Gilead's bigotry rather than to hint at the baby being disabled. The mentions of Rose's issues with this pregnancy seem to be pointing at how she herself is struggling rather than the baby having issues. So we're wondering if perhaps instead that Rose has problems while Baby is fine, and when Rose herself needs help, that help is denied because Baby has a heartbeat and is considered more important than she is to Gilead. We've been told that Wharton is the worst Commander ever, yet nothing we've seen points to that yet. But if Rose were in trouble but the baby is fine, and Nick is unable to help Rose and he turns to her father who picks the baby over her, that would make him the worst. This would line up with current political issues in the United States and would also give Nick another reason to hate Gilead and a reason to finally defect and choose the rebellion- he'd be inspired by Rose instead of June and he'd be fighting for better treatment for all women and not just June.

We shall see though! Not too long until we find out.

Aqui está a versão traduzida da nossa resposta:

Então, nos livros, bebês que nascem com deficiência são mortos, o que significa que é bem possível que na série vejamos isso acontecer com o bebê de Rose e Nick, mesmo por algo menor como displasia coxofemoral. Ao contrário de Wharton, que era um homem rico e poderoso mesmo antes de Gilead, dentro dela Nick não é, e portanto é provável que ele não tenha influência para proteger Rose e seu filho. Se isso acontecer, seria mais um motivo para Nick odiar Gilead e seria a gota d'água, significando que ele finalmente iria embora, já que não havia mais nada para ele lá e ele teria percebido que, mesmo como Comandante, não poderia mudar as coisas em Gilead; que não há como reformar o sistema internamente e não há como usar Nova Belém para tornar Gilead mais segura e melhor. Não temos certeza da probabilidade dessa história, no entanto. Os comentários da temporada passada vieram de uma esposa cruel e capacitista que queria machucar Rose e tinham como objetivo mostrar a intolerância de Gilead, em vez de insinuar que o bebê era deficiente. As menções aos problemas de Rose com esta gravidez parecem apontar para como ela própria está lutando, em vez de o bebê ter problemas. Então, nos perguntamos se talvez, em vez disso, Rose tenha problemas enquanto o bebê está bem, e quando a própria Rose precisa de ajuda, essa ajuda é negada porque o bebê tem batimentos cardíacos e é considerado mais importante do que ela para Gilead. Disseram-nos que Wharton é o pior Comandante de todos os tempos, mas nada do que vimos aponta para isso até agora. Mas se Rose estivesse em apuros, mas o bebê estivesse bem, e Nick não conseguisse ajudar Rose e recorresse ao pai dela, que escolheria o bebê em vez dela, isso o tornaria o pior. Isso se alinharia com as questões políticas atuais nos Estados Unidos e também daria a Nick mais um motivo para odiar Gilead e um motivo para finalmente desertar e escolher a rebelião – ele se inspiraria em Rose em vez de June e lutaria por um tratamento melhor para todas as mulheres, e não apenas para June. Veremos! Não vai demorar muito para descobrirmos.

[csuitebitches]

I really enjoy your blog and was wondering if you have advice on one of my biggest mental blocks. I'm 23 but struggle to feel like an adult and being independent deeply scares me even through I want to be "chasing my dreams". I've lived with my close knit family my whole life and still spend a lot of time with my parents. I'm almost going to move away(in the next year) and so I've began the process of getting a car/saving money, etc. But then I find myself subtly sabotaging these efforts because the idea of being alone/moving away also terrifies me. I really want to experience moving to a city and working and traveling and doing things I want and at this point I'm finding it draining being my parents "stay-at-home-daughter". But I also get anxiously sick when I try a push myself for more independence. I've put so much on hold going through school and then living in my home town w. parents and it's kind of scary to imagine dating (never prioritized men + parents didn't let me date in highschool= never had a bf or anything) or living alone even though I'd love to have the experience. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Basically I still feel like a 15 year old when it comes to my personal life and that feels a bit shameful.

I want to tell you that we all feel what you feel. You’ll only ever feel like an adult when you’ve exposed yourself to the outside world, regardless of whether you can handle it or not.

independence scares you because it’s unfamiliar territory. Often when we look at people who are independent and on their own two feet, they seem to have a sense of self identity, purpose and responsibilities to handle.

I’m always in favour of people moving out of their parents homes for a couple of years at least (the culture where I come from also emphasises on the whole family living together and there’s no move out at the age of 18 concept) because I see the pros and cons of both situations of living in/ out of your parents home.

No book, YouTube video, friends’ experiences will teach you about being an adult. You have to step out and experience it yourself.

Start doing exposure therapy. Basically, slowly, bit by bit, immerse yourself into the traditional adult experiences.

I’ll give you examples. Understand fully how your insurance works. Keep all your medical records in both a physical and a digital file.

Understand how your car functions as a product - which means guarantees, warranties, insurance, emergency numbers, mechanics nearby, etc.

Start tracking all your spending expenses, even if you’re using your parents money at the moment. The earlier you start this habit, the better. Create a monthly budget for yourself and stick to it.

Start doing your own laundry in the house and learn that not all clothes go in the washing machine, some go for dry cleaning etc.

Make it a goal to learn to cook at least 5 dishes properly before you leave. If your parents are good cooks, ask them to teach you or go to every introvert’s favourite site, YouTube.

Pretend that your room is a mini apartment and try to keep it clean at all times.

Start socialising more. Not just with known friends. Sign up for a random hobby class like a book club or a running club where you can meet more people. Yes it’ll be difficult, yes you’ll have moments of awkwardness but don’t give up after just one meeting - go and meet new people to get used to the idea of interacting with strangers.

You can’t rush into feeling like an adult. It takes time. Exposure therapy is the best way to get into it. The more responsibility you can healthily shoulder, even if you fail at times, you’ll still start feeling more confident.

We weren’t born with the knowledge of car tire changing mechanics, insurance, cooking or tidying up. We had to learn them as we grew up. It’s perfectly alright to not know how to do something. The beauty of living in today’s world is that the answer to nearly every question is one google search away.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I was wondering, since you have a lot of asks already, is there a way for us to lessen your workload a little bit? Like other blogs that do what you do or any things we should know before we ask that would make it easier for you to answer at all?

This blog is incredible and you guys are amazing, so I'm just wondering how we can possibly make what you do a little easier if possible!

Hello!

First of all, thank you for your kind words and for your consideration here!

We do have a lot of asks, both in the inbox and in the queue, but in all honesty, it's what we've signed up for. It's great that people want to create more disabled characters are open to discussing how they can do so in an appropriate way!

That said, we do advise that people check our pinned post to see if their question has already be answered and to see if it's something that we answer at all.

We also do get a lot of research questions (Which we don't take). Some of them can be difficult to find answers for, which is understandable, but we do get a lot of questions that can very easily be answered with a quick Google search.

This blog should not be your first or your only resource for writing these characters!

While I am unaware of any similar blogs, there are a few blogs mentioned in our pinned post that talk about and answer questions about specific disabilities. I'd suggest reading through some of their posts! Who knows, they might answer your question and, even if they don't, it's some good info to have anyways.

Thanks again for your ask! :)

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus