#this is a thing i'm just starting so no there is no moodboard for book 1 in the series

[wildwood-reader]

The Spiritglass Charade (Stoker & Holmes #2) by Colleen Gleason

After the Affair of the Clockwork Scarab, Evaline Stoker and Mina Holmes are eager to help Princess Alix with a new case. Seventeen-year-old Willa Aston is obsessed with spiritual mediums, convinced she is speaking with her mother from beyond the grave. What seems like a case of spiritualist fraud quickly devolves into something far more menacing: someone is trying to make Willa "appear lunatic," using an innocent-looking spiritglass to control her. The list of clues piles up: an unexpected murder, a gang of pickpockets, and the return of vampires to London. But are these events connected? As Uncle Sherlock would say, "there are no coincidences." It will take all of Mina's wit and Evaline's muscle to keep London's sinister underground at bay.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: ��� [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[thecowinblack]

Broken promises pt.4

Moodboard Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Reader x Eris

Summary: New inhabitants in the Autumn Court and some real explanation to the last parts ending...

Warnings: Fluff

A/n: Hi everyone! I'm soooo sorry this took so freaking long to make. I've literally had no inspiration for this universe but I decided to write a short part and see if it comes back! I love you all /Thecowinblack💕💕💕

A/n 2.0: Oh and imagine that Nesta hasn't yet been forced to live at the house of wind, for the sake of my story line.

The realization hit you hard.Your whole childhood had been a lie. Everything from your moment's with your mother, no adopted mother to the moments with your brothers back in the war camps. Nothing had been real, because you weren't his sister. You didn't have a brother. You didn't even have real parents, The Mother obviously didn't count. Not more than the King of Hybern counted as Elain or Nestas father. Everything was like a long forgotten memory, a memory that always existed in your brain, just blurry. And now it was totally clear.

You'd been created by the Mother. As a tool on earth. You could see things, like a seer but instead of seeing the future you could see your creator's wishes. But still. There was something that still was blurry, something about your powers. The one's that even frightened Armen.

You realized that you'd arrived at your door. The door to the room that you and Eris shared. You opened the door. Wondering how the hell you were supposed to tell Eris this. Walking in you could see him spread out on the couch, reading something.

“Eris, I need to talk to you about something.”

__________________________________

You and Eris had arrived back at your estate a couple days ago. Everything that you'd learned you'd told him. From the fact that you weren't Rhysands sister to your powers. All of it. And somehow he hadn't been confused, he had understood.

“Y/N come on, I'm dying of hunger!” Eris called out from the staircase.

“I'm on my way!” You shouted back.

Running down to the dining room you saw Lucien and… Nesta. You quickly pulled her in for a hug.

“What are you two doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the Night court?” You asked them.

“Fayre and Rhysand made an ultimatum, stay in the House of wind with no alcohol and train and work in the library, bla bla bla or move out of the court. I thought of what you said at the meeting so I decided to come here.” Nesta said to you.

“I couldn't deal with Elain and Azriel anymore so I just decided to leave. You guys are okay with us staying here right?” Lucien told you and Eris.

“Of course, let's eat and then I can show you around Nes!”

Dinner was amazing and you later pulled Nesta with you, leaving your husband and his brother to talk alone.

“Do you want to see the library?” You asked her. Nesta nodded and you opened the large oak doors behind you. The walls were covered in bookshelves with books in all colors. You could see Nestas eyes lit up. You knew this library was bigger than any in the Night court, and filled with romance. You guided her over to that section and she quickly grabbed a couple books.

“Can the rest of the tour wait until tomorrow?” She asked you and you started to laugh and to your surprise did too. A big smile painted your lips as you grabbed your own book and the two of you sat down on the closet couch, just reading.

__________________________________

A/n: I know that this one was really short but I'll probably write another really soon! Bye byeee!

Taglist: @queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree @st4r-girl-official

[intrepidacious]

this writing blog of mine is turning three next week and on the same day, i'm officially entering my charlotte lucas era. i frankly don't think there's ever been more cause for celebration so join me on this perfectly themed and not at all last minute sleepover 💛

whether you're new to my blog or we've been mutuals forever, all are welcome!! i'll be answering your asks starting on my actual birthday (and blog birthday) wednesday 7th august until sunday 11th august!!

details and no pressure tags below the cut <3

THE DISNEY YEARS

🧜🏼‍♀️ we're out to discover! ask me my top 5 anything, would you rathers, or fmk

🌴 ohana means family i'll cast my mutuals in categories of your choosing

🦆 fate/destiny/a horse mutuals only category <3 let me shower you with love and praises, friends!!

IT'S A MUSICAL

🥖 do you hear the people sing i'll put my playlist on shuffle and tell you what song it lands on

🪞 kitsch send me a character and some vibes and i'll create a moodboard

🖋️ hard to be the bard ask about my wips, my posted fics, or come whine with me about writing in general

HEROES AND VILLAINS

🧸 on your left send me a character and a prompt and i'll write you a seven sentence drabble - or i'll write a what if scenario for any of my posted fics!

🦾 i understood that reference … and so will you!! let me recommend something to you

🍩 close the book with a flourish naaah just kidding, this is the headcanon category!! let's make up fun things together <3

WITCHERS AND PIRATES

🏴‍☠️ a story is (un)true let's play two truths and a lie!! either you send some in or you'll have to guess mine

🫙 guess what's inside it! send me a word and i'll see if it's in one of my wips <3

🎻 toss a coin to your blogger give an anonymous (or not) shout-out to another tumblr person and i'll give them some love!!

💜 what my heart just yearns to say come chat with me about anything and everything!!

thank you all for being here and i'm looking forward to celebrating with you!!!

@brandycranby @scrumptious-delusion @aphrogeneias @barnesafterglow @marvelettesassemblenow

@persephoneceleste @gxrlcinema @sanguineterrain @fandoms-writings @krirebr

@demxters @youremyfriend-youremymission @nickfowlerrr @sweetdreamsbuck @wildlivelychild

@obsidianvibranium @targaryenvampireslayer @thornsnvultures @levans44 @idkitsem

[missredherring]

Lap of Luxury

(Moodboard made by @psychedelic-ink )

Liam (Nikita) x Fat F!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: He’d told himself that you were a distraction, a liability, a weakness he’d be foolish to give in to, but he hadn’t been able to stay away. He hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it would look like to press his fingers into your skin.

Contents: established relationship. pwp. grooming of body hair. mentions of canon-typical violence. insecurity. oral sex (f! receiving).

A/N: I started writing this in Sept... and then I got distracted, but finally finished it today.

There is no one else I've thought "what a weirdo"(affectionate) more than Liam, so I'm glad to finally share this thot with everyone.

@psychedelic-ink I've finally finished it! Sil made this amazing moodboard. Please look on it with awe, cos I sure am.

Thank you to @fhatbhabie for looking over this.

“Did you start without me?” You ask after finding him on the couch, naked except for a towel wrapped around his slim waist. You toss your keys into the catch-all bowl on the cluttered entrance table and send him a pout before going into the bedroom.

Tracking your route through the apartment, he admires the way you weave around obstacles you’d placed there yourself like the ottoman that’s used as a side table, currently stacked with a wobbly tower of books you checked out from the library. Photos and prints on the walls that you stop to straighten, not remembering how you’d bumped them askew when he’d pushed you up against the wall so his hands could do other things while he kissed you.

When he’d moved into this particular space it had been intended for a short stay. A place to fulfill his basic needs and then he’d move on. To the next city, to the next apartment; wherever the job took him. Then he’d met you. And kept meeting you, finding excuses and then planning run-ins with you during your routines. His path had always been straight and to the point, but now with you, it’s a meandering wander through the days. Liam finds he doesn’t mind the slow and indirect path with you by his side.

“No. I’m just setting up.” He says, raising his voice to reach you in the bedroom. 

He glances back to the pad of his thumb where he’d been testing the sharpness of his straight razor and notices that he didn’t startle and cut himself when you’d come in. His smirk is a prideful little thing. Even so, he makes sure to move the blade when you come out to join him. 

You’ve changed into some of the clothes he’d gotten for you to keep here before you’d officially moved in: a plain t-shirt made from soft cotton in the biggest size he could find. You swim in it and often tell him you couldn’t be comfier when you wear it. He takes in the slope of your shoulders, the way you roll your head on your neck, and the lines that crease between your brows; all signs of the day’s stress. 

Liam motions for you to join him on the couch and hands you the bottle of shave cream in exchange for a kiss. When you settle in with your body turned towards him, you reach for the towel he’d put on the coffee table and drape it over your plump thigh before popping the bottle cap open. 

It would have been unthinkable to have someone else handle the razor before. He’d had acquaintances in Division, and after he’d gone rogue there was no one he’d let close to him. Until you. You, with your civilian background, civilian job, and civilian life. You’d had no idea who he was or what he’d done when you’d smiled at him and offered your help in finding what he’d been looking for. 

He’d told himself that you were a distraction, a liability, a weakness he’d be foolish to give in to, but he hadn’t been able to stay away. He hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it would look like to press his fingers into your skin.

Now here you are, about to take part in a ritual that calms his nerves and soothes the paranoid voice in his mind when it speaks louder of men around every corner that are coming for him.

Removing all the hair on his body had been a necessity so he didn’t leave any genetic evidence on a job. He isn’t as anxious about it these days, able to leave the hair on his knuckles and toes, but it’s still comforting and he knows you take some comfort in it as well.

You warm the cream between your hands before you smooth it up his forearm, pressing down to massage the muscles underneath his skin. The back and forth of your hands lulls you both into a sense of calm and not for the first time, he marvels at how he doesn’t react when the blade is put to his skin. No offense or defense, Liam sits still in your care of him. It’s a luxury he’d never been able to afford. The first pass of the razor is done in silence and you both let out a breath when you lift the blade from his skin and wipe it on the towel.

From there on it’s an easy rhythm: the back and forth pass of the blade against skin, the reapplication of cream, and his thoughts are calmed and settled.

There’s a look of intense concentration on your face that he soaks in. It means that you’re taking every care with this task and with him.

The blade is warming up now. The scrape of metal louder over their quiet breathing in the apartment. 

Liam’s very aware of the places you have access to, the places he’s opening up to you. Even before Division he wouldn't have let anyone have this much access to the soft points of his body.

He idly catalogs all the points where you only need to press harder, deeper, into his skin to kill him. His wrist, the crook of his elbow, the thinner skin of his armpit, his neck. The next observation supplies the moves in sequential order he would need to perform to take the blade from you and kill you. It would be easy. He’s done it before and you have no defensive training to protect yourself against him.

You turn your head, exposing your neck to him, and he can see the faint throb of your jugular vein. Another vital spot that would be so easy to strike. 

Instead he puts his hand there, his palm protecting the thin vulnerable skin, and brings you to him for a kiss. For all of his self control Liam has never been able to limit himself to just one of your kisses. 

Mouths brushing together, his lips are dry and catch at yours until he licks them to ease the way. You sigh and lean into him. One of your hands brushes down his chest and touches the scratch marks you left behind the other night. It’s tender and the flash of nerves offers up a reminder of the way your eyes looked up at him with eyelashes spiked with tears. He’d only pressed his cock harder into your mouth and thought you beautiful when you’d gagged and accepted him as much as you could. 

The straight razor is held steady in your other hand until he takes it from you and sets it on the coffee table. The towel is tossed down next to it.

“Don’t you want to finish shaving?”

“Later. Right now I want to eat your pussy.” Liam says, chuckling at the way your eyes dilate and how your breathing picks up.

All you have to do is nod and he’s pushing you down on the couch, a hand on your leg extending it and giving him access to even more of your softness.

He strokes up and down your thighs, moving the hem of your shirt higher and higher with each pass. He takes his time watching, he’s always watching you, and tracks how your body reacts to his attention. You’re leaning back more and more, relaxing until he reaches where your shirt is bunched at the top of your thighs. Muscles tense when his fingers delve underneath the fabric to follow the line of your underwear around and under your ass cheeks. 

His biceps flex and it’s the only warning you have before he grips you and yanks your body towards him so you end up on your back.

Your shout of his name breaks down into sounds of delight. He tsks at you; by now you should know his slim build is deceptive, and if he’s strong enough to take on men bigger than him, he has the strength to move your body. 

Liam understands hang ups and those little voices that lie even when you see the truth with your own eyes, so he watches as the momentum of his action meets the momentum of your laughter and keeps your body in motion. He just wants to sink into you and keep you in motion for as long as you’ll let him. 

He begins to lift your shirt to remove it, but you stop him. 

“You don’t want me to take it off?” He asks. 

“Not today.” You say in a quiet voice. 

Another weakness so easily revealed. God it’d be easy to manipulate you into whatever situation he wanted. He knows the exact things to say and the right tone to use that would break you, but he’s surprised every time at how much he doesn’t want to. Not when you trust him to stay by your side when you’re feeling vulnerable and to be there when you’re ready to hold your head high again. 

The sheer amount of trust you have in him, whether he’s earned it or not, drives him insane with the need to reciprocate in some way. To shorten the distance between the sheer goodness of you and all the bad things he’s done.

So he pushes your shirt up enough to bare your hips and legs and strokes his thumbs along the sensitive skin there.

“Ok, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling the soft skin of your inner thigh and enjoying how it feels against his freshly shaven cheek and jaw, the way your pubic hair tickles his lips and nose, and how your scent offers a reminder of how you’ll taste when he finally opens his mouth to swipe his tongue through your folds. “Can I still eat this pretty pussy?” A kiss to one thigh. “Just a few licks?” A kiss on the other with just the barest scrape of teeth to make you shiver. “Just a taste?”

“Yes, please.” Your voice is still quiet, but firm, and he takes one more look at your eyes, studying them over the hem of your shirt and the hills of your stomach and breasts, before turning his attention back between your thighs. Holding your legs open, he picks up where he left off: nuzzling and kissing his way around the familiar territory of your vulva. 

He knows how to make you relax, how to have you blossom for him, your lips parting on their own as your legs open wider for him to reveal your clit and all the beautiful soft tissue that’s swelling under his careful ministrations. 

Satisfied with that start, he moves down from the couch to the floor to get a better angle. He takes the towel from around his waist and folds it a few times before kneeling on it, adjusting his growing erection into a more comfortable position between his legs. He can’t resist thumbing the bead of precum that’s gathered on the head and spreading it around while you too get into a better position on the couch, rocking back and forth to get your shirt out from under your ass and a throw pillow behind your back. When you spread your legs for him again with enthusiasm he dives back in.

Just like with his work, his perfectionist tendencies serve him well in the pursuit of pleasure. Where to touch, how much pressure to use, whether to go faster, slower, or to maintain his current pace; everything is lined up like a to-do list waiting to be ticked off. Or at least that’s how it’d been with his past partners. A transaction with agreed upon parameters before the encounter. 

It’s different with you. It changes from moment to moment, directed by your desires instead of the end goal. There’s an element of the unknown that he can’t anticipate, that he can’t pin down and define, but he can feel it creeping up his spine even now as he swirls his tongue over your clit. 

Your pleasure surrounds him, feeding his own desire and bringing it to new depths when your hips wiggle in an attempt to get the stimulation you want in the right area. He follows your lead and can just hear the moan you let out as your thighs start to shake against his ears. 

You're gasping now, one hand clutching a breast and making your shirt rise and reveal more of your body, but you don’t seem to care anymore, not with the way you’re trying to grab any part of him that you can reach. He takes that searching hand and entwines your fingers together. You squeeze them and sigh when he rests the two hands on your pelvis just above his head.

The twitch of your muscles, the sounds you make, the taste that coats his tongue and makes him salivate for more. It's all-encompassing and he's dizzy with it. He wants more, he wants to devour every drop from your body and then some.

He paints his name onto your cunt, his spit mixing with your slick. Centering the peaks and dips of the letters over your clit. Another way to leave his mark on you without a trace. Just like the bruises and marks that fade with time. He likes to see them, likes to watch you touch them with fondness when you find them, but more and more he wants them to last. He wants to stay in you, on you, with you. 

Another undulation of your hips presses his face deeper into you and he can't breath. The pressure builds in his lungs until you move back just enough and it releases, moving up from his chest and out of his mouth, pushing sounds with it.

He moans into your pussy, the sound strange to his ears.

"Liam." You answer his moan with one of your own and he's lost. “Do that again. Oh, fuck–”

"That's it, baby,” His voice is wrecked. No longer able to maintain it’s usual steady cadence. The tone of command is gone and he's begging you now, another moan punctuating the request. “Make my face messy with your pussy."

Your orgasm ripples through you, cum spilling out onto his waiting tongue to mix with the sounds his vocal chords are making. He can’t stop them so he gives them to you; tucking them away in your folds until the sensations are too much for you and you push him away. 

His cock lays pulsing in his lap with drips of precum rolling down the sides of his legs, but he makes no move to tend to it.

He feels exposed and suddenly there’s too much room around him. His bare back is too wide, too easy of a target to hit. His kidneys, his neck, the spinal cord between C1 and C7. 

Instead he rests his head on your lap, feeling the give of your thighs and the warmth of your stomach as he presses into it, allowing the softness of you to surround him, to hide him. Your free hand starts stroking over his short hair, moving lower and lower over his skull until your hand pauses on the back of his neck, gripping him there for just a moment, protecting that open target, and then you start again. The rhythm calms his racing heart as he breathes through his nose and tries to regain control of himself. 

[topazadine]

Extremely controversial writing opinions that will make you mad (but I'm going to say them anyway)

I don't know why but I am in the mood to be pilloried. Before I start, I will show you a picture of my dog so you realize I'm not a heartless monster.

Anyway, obviously this is just my opinion and you are perfectly free to disagree.

None of this is some hard-and-fast rule or even a universal truth.

It is just my opinion as someone who has 15 years of experience, has written about 2 million words, has an English degree, tutored dozens of students, etc etc etc.

Even if it seems like I am universalizing, I am not. Take what you like and leave the rest. Ignore it all if you want. That's your right.

Here we go. Please, don't throw your tomatoes until the end of the post. It distracts me.

Your first book probably sucks (with caveats).

Ideas are pointless if you don't do anything with them.

You are not a writer unless you consistently write.

Making moodboards, playlists, etc, before you have started the project is a form of procrastination.

No one cares about your idea as much as you do and never will.

Most people in your life will not care about your book.

A lot of peoples' opinions about writing are useless to you.

You need to develop healthy self-esteem if you want to be a good writer.

You also need to be humble and have a beginner's mindset forever.

Being mentally ill doesn't make you a better writer. It just means you're mentally ill.

Your real actual life matters more than your writing.

You will burn out if you don't have other hobbies.

Okay, okay, let's make you hate me.

Your first book probably sucks (with caveats).

If this is your first ever long project in writing, it is likely not going to be publishable (or, perhaps, even readable). It takes years, sometimes decades, to learn how to write well.

Do not think that because you have one singular idea and have slapped a book together that you can publish it to widespread acclaim. People who do this are deeply overestimating the quality of their work, seeing it through rose-tinted glasses.

One of my first long-form writing projects as sort of an adult was utter garbage. You can read it if you want; it's a BBC Sherlock fanfic. And it's fucking awful. I had written a lot of smaller things before this, but nothing to this scale. That much is quite obvious.

I'm grateful I started my journey writing fanfic, because otherwise I would have thought this was brilliant life-changing stuff.

In fact, I actually put together a copy of all my Sherlock fanfics called 11 Ways of Playing a Stradivarius that is probably floating around somewhere on the internet (though it got smacked down for copyright infringement eventually, because I was stupid). It sold absolutely zero copies, and rightly so. It's bad.

And that is okay. Shitty writing is par for the course when you are learning. It doesn't mean you'll never be good. It just means you're not there yet.

I have, to my great relief, improved immeasurably over the years, to the point where I have felt confident selling my work for real human money. You can purchase the culmination of that hard work right this instant, if you so choose. Should you do so, I am certain you will see exactly how much I've grown as a writer.

Ideas are pointless if you don't do anything with them.

I know I have said this before but I just need to drill it into your heads. Your idea means nothing unless you actually write the damn thing.

Millions of people have story ideas. Most of them will never do anything with those ideas. At best, they'll daydream about it but make up a billion excuses why they can't. At second-worst, they will badger actual writers to do the idea for them.

At worst worst, they will use AI to do it for them and call it a day. And we will all hate them for it.

You do not need to be protective of your idea or hide it, because someone has already thought of it and then made excuses as to why they can't be bothered to execute it. You have to be the one who doesn't fall into the trap and does the damn thing.

Look, I'll give you all the story ideas I have if you want. I don't care. In fact, I share them frequently and encourage others to give it a shot if they want to.

I'm not hiding any ideas because I know you will not do it exactly as I will. My voice is unique and it doesn't matter if there are dozens of people with the same idea: my story will be mine, and no one else's.

You are not a writer unless you consistently write.

This doesn't mean writing for five hours every day, or even doing 100 words every day. When I get to the tail end of the project, I tend to start slowing down because I have to think more critically about how to tie everything together. During the active drafting phase, I might do 2,000 words per day, but things ease up at the end, both because I'm sad that this phase is almost over and because I don't have much left to do.

But you don't get to call yourself a writer if you write like 100 words a month and spend the rest of the time doing moodboards and talking about your ideas. Whatever your rhythm, you need to stick with it and develop discipline, or you just have an idea and nothing else.

Making moodboards, playlists, etc, before you have started the project is a form of procrastination.

Note I said before you have really gotten into the meat of your project. Moodboards are a great way to promo your project and get peoples' attention, because visuals are more interesting than a wall of text. (That's why I start these kinds of posts with a picture.)

Oh, there's another one!

The thing is that a lot of would-be writers get trapped by the "oh this is research, this is plotting, this is giving me ideas, this is inspo." It's not. It's visual daydreaming and nothing more.

Any time that I have done a moodboard before starting a story, I give up on that story, because then I feel like I've done most of the work when I categorically have not. When I do moodboards once I get to the halfway point, I'm already in the home stretch and have no reason to stop. When I do a moodboard after I am already done and in the revision stage, then I'm good to go and building hype for my project.

Do not waste your time doing moodboards and playlists and visuals before you do the real stuff: worldbuilding, plotting, hammering out characterization. Get started before you start playing around with pretty pictures because it's not really getting you anywhere.

No one cares about your idea as much as you do and never will.

This is pretty self-explanatory so I won't expound too much. Your writing is the most important thing to you, but everyone else has their own stuff going on. If you're building hype with other writers, they have their own projects and are not going to be your free promotional team. They want your attention for their stuff, not yours.

Most people in your life will not really care about your book.

Again, everyone's got their own things going on. Also, most non-writers don't really understand how difficult it is to write a whole book. They are consumers and see the finished project; it's content to them. They care about you, to be sure, but your book doesn't really click as a big accomplishment because they're not familiar with the process.

You may notice, and seethe slightly, that relatively mundane things like weddings, graduations, and baby announcements will get WAY more attention than your book. A friend showing their ultrasound pic will get dozens of likes and comments and congratulations, while like 1 person will say "good job!" when you announce your book.

This is because these kinds of announcements are more relatable to the average person. They may have gotten married, or graduated, or had a baby (and of course probably know dozens of people who have) so they are aware of the challenges and joys.

Unless you are friends with exclusively other writers, your achievement is abstract, and your friends can't really sympathize. Your book is just a way to pass some time.

A lot of peoples' opinions about writing are useless to you.

I do not really like getting beta readers from places like r/betareaders because I have no idea how much that person actually knows about writing. Being able to visualize and suggest ways forward requires an understanding of the craft, but many people think that because they like to read, they know how to critique, when they are completely different skills.

Yes, unknowledgeable beta readers can give you a "man on the street" perspective of your book, but they tend to forget that beta readers are meant to help you fix your book as it is. Not turn it into something they personally would enjoy reading if they are not the target audience.

This requires recognizing audience and putting aside one's own preferences to focus on how the book would come across to an imagined ideal reader. Not everyone can do this. Actually, most people can't.

Some of the dumbest comments I've gotten about my work are from people who want to wrest control away from me and make it their preferred genre/plot/etc. These are useless suggestions.

Wonderful beta readers help to enhance your story, and they are golden. Instead of demanding you do something different, they offer their honest reactions of the work as it is and suggest opportunities to enrich the writing, tweak it, deepen the characterization, and so on.

Helpful beta readers are typically other writers regardless of their specific writing level. Newbie writers can be an excellent resource! And you're helping them, too: they will see your mistakes and know what not to do, and they can learn from your strengths. It's a positive experience all around.

Writers must come to understand what is good advice and what is not. Essentially, anyone who suggests things that are completely out of left field and totally unrelated to what you're trying to do is giving bad advice, and you should ignore them.

You need to develop healthy self-esteem if you want to be a good writer.

When you constantly put yourself down, complain about how bad your first draft is, say you have no idea what you're doing, and insist that no one will ever enjoy your work, guess what: you're right.

But you're right because you're essentially telling other people that your work sucks and they should not give it a chance. What you say about your writing will influence how readers interact with your work. You are priming them to dislike your writing and telling them what to think.

Imposter syndrome strikes all of us at times, but you need to push through it. One of the best ways to do so is to just continue writing. Keep going. Soon enough, you will develop experience, and experience will create confidence, and that confidence will shine through in your work.

When you consider saying something self-deprecating about your work, stop. You're going to make it come true.

You also need to be humble and have a beginner's mindset forever.

Doing so means understanding the difference between being self-deprecating and being humble.

Self-deprecation is when someone says your work is great and you immediately go "oh you're saying that to be nice, it's awful, I hate it."

Humility is when someone says your work is great and you go "Thank you!" and leave it at that.

You're not gloating or bragging by saying thank you, but you're also not cutting yourself off at the knees and making people uncomfortable by self-flagellating.

Honestly, the best thing you can ever say when you get a compliment about anything, including your writing, is just "thank you." Nothing else. Maybe an "I appreciate it" or "I'm glad you think so!" You don't need to go into detail.

But humility also means acknowledging that no matter how long you have been writing, there is always something you can do better. You will always be learning and making mistakes. Thinking you've peaked is when your writing gets stale and boring.

I have been learning rock climbing, and one of my favorite things to do is to watch pro climbers critique their own technique. They're not self-deprecating or saying they're horrible, but they're also not claiming they are perfect and can never do anything better.

Magnus Midtbø is incredible because even though he is a truly masterful climber, he posts a lot about his fails or when other climbers make him eat shit. This is an amazing video of him getting wrecked by an Olympic climber and taking it on the chin! He doesn't whine about how bad he is, he's just like "hmm, yeah, I can see where I screwed up, I'm so glad that I got to watch you climb, this is an honor."

That is the perfect blend of confidence and humility. He knows he can improve, but he doesn't deride his own skill. This is the mindset you need as a writer.

Being mentally ill doesn't make you a better writer. It just means you're mentally ill.

Anyone can be a good writer. Mental illness does not give you a super-secret advantage. It actually puts you at a disadvantage because your brain is expending so much energy staying stable that it does not have the same capacity as other people.

Fix your mental health issues instead of using them as a crutch or deluding yourself into believing they make you special. Like half of the population will develop some type of mental illness during their lifetime, and insisting that you need your mental illness to write is trapping you by making you not want to get help.

I have severe bipolar. This does not necessarily make me a great writer. In fact, it can make my writing suck ass if I am not stable. And no, you are not somehow exempt from having consequences for refusing to take care of your mental health. I promise you that you will be a better writer when you have sorted out your mental health issues.

Your real actual life matters more than your writing.

This is related to the above point. Your mental health, your stability, your social circle are all crucial elements of being a good, productive writer, and you can't ignore them in favor of suffering for your art.

The quality of my work has skyrocketed at two significant points in my life: once when I got out of a relationship that was hurting me and once when I ditched a toxic friend. The first one was when I started writing fanfic again, and the second was when I finally began The Eirenic Verses.

I would not have written 2 million words if I still had those nasty influences in my life, and I would not be living my best life. I likely never would have found my favorite hobbies and started going to therapy if I was still trapped in those negative cycles. Attending to my real-life problems both enhanced my writing and made me a better, more likeable, more functional person. I expect you will find the same thing.

You will burn out if you don't have other hobbies.

Hobbies. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have other hobbies that have nothing to do with writing. Yes, it means you have less time to write, but it also means that when you do sit down and write, you have better focus because you've fulfilled your other needs.

I picked up horseback riding again in February of this year and go once a week. I can't stress enough how good this has been for my writing and for my overall well-being. I have pretty bad agoraphobia, but since I started riding again, I have been less scared of leaving the house and less worried about what people think about me. My world has become larger and friendlier.

Now I'm doing rock climbing too. The physical and mental stimulation helps me focus better when I write, and I get way more done in less time. Plus, the quality of that writing is better because I'm getting more bloodflow into my brain and nourishing the tissues. There's also the fact that when I do have time to write, I'm not burned out and frustrated because all I've been doing all day is writing.

I look forward to my writing sessions more because they feel like a treat, and I have gotten a self-esteem boost by doing well in the gym. I am happier, calmer, and sleeping better due to the exercise.

Well-adjusted humans need social outlets, physical movement, a strong support network, good nutrition, and opportunities to relax. Our horrible capitalist system makes it very hard to balance all of these, but you must at least try.

Your hobbies don't need to be expensive. It can be something as simple as drawing, or going for a long nature walk, or learning origami, or buying a used camera and learning photography. Go to your local library and take a free course! Join a cheap gym and go a few times a week. Teach yourself something using YouTube. Buy secondhand equipment on Craigslist. There are so many affordable options.

Again, caring for your overall well-being is a true godsend when it comes to writing. Having something else to fulfill you will help you push through those hard days when nothing is coming to you, and it offers your brain a break from plotting, writing, revising, etc.

So that's it. If you read this to the very end, you're quite the gem; I know this was excruciatingly long. And mean.

Since you're here, maybe you will consider purchasing my debut novel, which was written by applying all these tips. (And not using AI - fuck off, NaNoWriMo.)

9 Years Yearning is a coming-of-age gay romance set in a fantasy world with poetry magic. It follows two young men as they grow from sorta-enemies, to frenemies, to friends, and finally to lovers.

If you do read it, please don't forget to leave a review!

Even if it's mean. Don't worry, I won't be mad. Reviews are essential to getting visibility on Amazon, so every single one is golden to me.

[ggwendolyn]

BF!FRED WEASLEY MOODBOARD + HCS

BF!Fred who settled his eyes on you since he saw you on his store. A spark illuminated his chocolate eyes, he had to blink twice to check you were real.

BF!Fred who approached you with a foolish grin, leaning on a counter and accidentally dropping the whole prank stuff stand.

BF!Fred who was so ashamed of it but it immediately vanished when he heard your little giggle as you covered your mouth with your hand.

BF!Fred who couldn't stop staring as you crouched down in the floor to help him put everything where it belonged.

BF!Fred who asked you on a date when you finished arranging everything on its respective shelf.

“It's on me, take it as a thank you. Besides, who wouldn't like to go on a date with me?” He said, smiling smugly before chuckling.

BF!Fred who after starting dating you, he invited you over saying "my parents won't be home" but then you find the whole Weasley bloodline completely amazed by you and the redheaded fool who had his hand rubbing your waist.

BF!Fred who introduced you as "his future wife", and you couldn't help but nudge his rib cage while cursing him out in murmurs.

BF!Fred who said "can I be your boyfriend?" after three months of dating.

“I know three months it's not much, but I'm so in love with you that I can't help it. Please, let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent in case that was the last day he saw you.

BF!Fred who was literally FLABBERGASTED when you said yes.

BF!Fred who randomly asks you if you'd love him if he was a worm, a raccoon, a ferret, a raven, a skunk, anything.

BF!Fred who once left a hickey on your forehead while you were sleeping and laughed the hell outta him once he saw your reaction.

BF!Fred who knows you're a little of a bookworm so he leaves cute notes or weird remarks and opinions about your book though he just saw the back of the book and its cover.

BF!Fred who was kinda embarrassed when Molly gifted you a sweater with your name on Christmas, but you were nothing but happy to wear it.

BF!Fred who likes to take showers and baths with you but not in a sexual way, it just relaxes him and makes him feel loved and safe.

BF!Fred who bought a little shack for you two to live in. He was kinda broke after that but when he saw your face he couldn't care less about money.

BF!Fred who appreciates when you help with the bills knowing he's not very smart when it's about saving money for important stuff.

BF!Fred who adopted a stray cat without you knowing, thinking he'd hide the cat but you found him and the stray sleeping lazily together.

BF!Fred who tried to explain to you the whole cat thing but you said you didn't care, in fact you were happy about having a little buddy in the house.

BF!Fred whose heart's warm up when he saw you preparing him a lunchbox for him to take to work. (He almost cried when you said you also did one for George.)

BF!Fred who loves you, no matter what.

BF!Fred who's always by your side, supporting you for anything you need him to.

BF!Fred who wouldn't hesitate to risk himself for your safety.

© ggwendolyn 2024

[bonesbuckleup]

Hi, random q. I saw in your tags that you swear by Scrivener for original fic. I’m still plugging away in ye olde Word and now I’m intrigued to know what about Scrivener you like so much. I’ve def heard about it but never used it, so I’m curious :)

YES I would love to tell you about my lord and savior software Scrivener. I hope you don't mind I published this long, long answer publicly.

So. The main issue I have with Word and Google Docs is that you hit a certain length/word count, and it starts to lag and load kind of jerkily. You know? Also, navigating chapter to chapter or scene to scene is awkward for me--you either have to have a whole bunch of individual documents and multiple windows open, or you have to use headers and the table of contents...which is fine for quickly finding chapters but less so for scenes within those chapters.

Messy, basically. Does not spark joy for me.

Enter Scrivener.

Now, before I evangelize a bit, I will say that Windows Scrivener and Mac Scrivener are not 100% created equal. They are both better, I think, than Word or Google docs, but the Mac version is a bit slicker and a little nicer to look at. I only say that for if you're using Windows, because if so my screencaps below won't exactly match what you see if/when you download the program.

ONWARD.

So, the #1 thing that Scrivener has over Word is that it's a one time fee, not a subscription. So while it is a little pricey (Just went and looked, $59.99 USD), it's only the one payment. All updates and such are covered and available as free downloads. I will also say that Scrivener gives you a 30 day free trial. That's not 30 consecutive days, but 30 days of use--if you only use it every other day, you'll have the trial for 60 days. They make it really easy to figure out if it's for you or not.

This is also going to feel like a lot, but there are built in tutorials and it's actually pretty intuitive, depending on how your brain works. Anyway! The basic gist of Scrivener is that it's a digital binder. You can keep all your book stuff in one place:

As you can see, there's the manuscript (aka my book), notes, research, more. Tbh, I mostly just use notes and Manuscript, but if it floats your boat, you can store maps, place names, worldbuilding, playlist links, moodboards, a whole ton of stuff, all in one menu that's easy to access and in a single window. You can organize it however itches your brain the best way.

But like I said, for me, the best is that Manuscript part, which I'm going to go into now. I use a three act structure for books (but break the big ol' middle act into two pieces because it makes my brain happy), so each act gets a folder.

When I click and expand that act, each chapter has it's own folder. However, it also shows quick-reference index cards, so I can have an at-a-glance at what's going down in each chapter. (I'm using a outline system called Save the Cat for this book, which is why all my chapters have titles like 'Catalyst', feel free to ignore those...I also have a very compact timeline, so to help me stay organized, I labeled each chapter with when it happens.)

You can do the same with each individual chapter and the scenes, where when you click on the chapter folder, each scene gets a card. If you don't type in a summary, it'll just auto-populate the start of whatever content you were writing. You can see this in the 'Copper's Candids NEW' card.

And, of course, it is writing software. When you click on the individual scene, it opens the blank document, and you can get cracking.

So. This system is nice for a few reasons. My favorite is that it makes navigating, reorganizing, and/or rewriting scenes extremely easy. It's just point and click, drag and drop. You can also open two docs in the same window at once, like this:

Which is a nice feature for several reasons--you can work on a new version of a scene with the old one pulled up next to it, or if there's something you wrote earlier or that comes later that's important to what you're working on now, you can have them both up for quick referencing.

Another slick thing is each doc has a notes section off to the right side of the screen--which is optional! I use it for future revision notes/descriptions of how I want the scene to go:

My other favorite part of Scrivener is that it makes it very easy to hoard your deleted scenes like a deranged dragon in case you want them later. My garbage looks like this:

There are SO MANY FILES hanging out in my trash, and you know what? I so rarely actually need them, but my god am I glad they're there on the rare occasion that I do. Word, again, can make it more difficult. I always had a massive 'cut' document that was longer than the actual project and again, awful to navigate. This just makes it easier.

Scrivener also makes it easy to compile the manuscript into other doc types--pdf, doc, docx, etc--for easy printing and sharing.

ANYWAY. I'm sure there are approximately 1 million other things I'm missing, but basically Scrivener takes all your book/long project bits, puts them in one centralized file, and makes it super easy to navigate. I've also found that outlining is easier, because I can just make the folders and scenes and drag them around while I noodle through the plot.

10/10, would recommend to any long-form writer. If you have any other questions, please let me know! If anyone has read this far and has a thing about Scrivener to add, please do! I love Scrivener, and a lot of my writing buddies love Scrivener, and it really kinda has revolutionized the way I write original fiction. I'm always happy to yell about how great it is.

[balletbby]

things that help me as a writer !!

(these are all just things i do when i write a new book or start a small project/story)

BIGGER PROJECTS

i always start my figuring out what i want to write & make a small synopsis, usually written in google docs or in my notes app.

if i really like the idea for the book then i'll set a new book up in wattpad, giving it a cover and adding the synopsis in the intro.

then i start with the FUNNN stuff . .

tons and tons of pinterest boards, for the characters, for the book's aesthetic, for the setting, the lifestyle, the fun everything.

this isn't for my small projects, or even all of them, but for the ones that get published early on, i make spotify playlists for the readers.

playlists also help me because i can turn a different playlist on for each book when i'm writing it, and it helps me zone into it

songs play a big role in my writing!! (though i usually make playlists when i'm figuring out the synopsis.)

i don't always do this, but make moodboards for your main characters, i use a 3x3 grid, so i get 8 photos that are based very much on the oc, and then leave the middle photo for the faceclaim/what they're supposed to look like.

use faceclaims !! i don't do this everytime, but if i have some characters i really think would make a good match then i use faceclaims.

otherwise, if it's a big group of friends, you'll rarely catch me using faceclaims :p

SMALLER PROJECTS

these usually consist of short stories, or writing urges/spurs i get when i just feel like writing something small i come up with.

still make pinterest boards, they help me a lot with planning out the characters vibes

i add the wattpad stuff last, because i don't always know if i'll publish the smaller projects

visualize the characters, i don't use as many faceclaims for smaller projects that are like a few chapters long

if making moodboards use smaller (twitter header sized) moodboards for each character, and only use 3-4 photos

that's really all <3

i don't usually make things about writing on my gb but i just felt like it since i'm preparing for 3 books to publish in a few months lol

love you guys alwaysss

xoxo,

baby

[lonelychicago]

seven-ish sentences sunday! 📜🎥

tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @panbuckley @wildlife4life <33

here's more from author!buck and actor!eddie au, plus another moodboard bc i cannot stop.

(also, if you wanna be tagged on this fic once i post, interact with this post)

"Can you read for Gabriel in Scene 23, where he's talking to officer Blake Scatorccio?" Chimney says, looking up from his notes. "Buck will read opposite to you." 

"Yeah, okay." Eddie swallows thickly. In the first books, Gabriel and Blake only have a few scenes, but in the second book their relationship grows stronger. 

Some fans even think the author might be building up to a romantic relationship, claiming it's a slow burn. Eddie isn't sure and he hasn't asked Buck, but just the idea of doing this scene with him makes his nerves set on fire. 

He'll be acting out Buck's words, words the man took time and effort and that he created oh so carefully, so masterfully. Eddie will be telling them to him, looking him in the eye and thinking— what exactly? 

"Eddie? Are you ready?" Buck raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Yeah, Ready." 

Buck clears his throat and starts the scene. 

"Gabe? What are you doing here?" 

"I'm dropping all of the evidence I gathered with Pipe in these last few months." He sighs, feeling as defeated as Gabriel does in the scene. "I just— I can't do it anymore." 

Buck frowns at him, just like he pictures Blake would be doing in the book. "What? You're just gonna give up?" 

"I can't keep going like this! Chasing after some psycho, being haunted by my wife's ghost. I—" Eddie runs a hand through his hair and pulls back. "I need to think of my son, okay? I can't keep doing your job for you, Officer Scatorccio." He sneers. He evokes every feeling of grief and frustration he felt when Shannon first left him with no warning, except for a note. He brings up every feeling of insecurity and of not being good enough to the surface, every feeling of rage and fury that's been simmering under the surface for longer than Eddie is willing to admit, and he pours them all into Gabriel's character. 

In the book and in the script, Blake gets impossibly closer to Gabriel, grabbing him by the arm and stopping him from walking away. In real life, Buck remains seated a few feet away from him. 

Eddie tries not to be disappointed. This is an audition after all and Buck is just reading the lines to move Eddie through the scene, that's how it goes. It's just business. 

"My hands are tied and you know it. The whole police department can't go after just one person, Gabe. You know that. We have too many cases and—" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Chimney. The director held in a rare thrall, the tip of his glasses inserted between his full, dreamy lips, that ankle crossed over the opposite knee, jiggling, jiggling. He looks impressed, Eddie thinks. Maybe. 

"And what?" 

"I think you're close. I think you are stronger and smarter than any one of us— You're extraordinary, Gabriel Alvarez and I am in awe of you every single day. You can't just give up." Buck gazes up at him, a smile gracing his lips, a small and barely there thing that doesn't really match the scene but Eddie can't bring himself to mind. 

"You are too good with words, Officer Scatorccio. But I don't know if I can trust them." Eddie looks down at the script, and then back up at Buck. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Gabe, I—" And that's the end of the scene. Blake's partner interrupts them, claiming they need to go and Gabriel is left alone at the station. Confused and hopeless. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, telling himself it's over and he gave the scene the best he had. And he thinks he did pretty well— He thinks he did amazing, losing himself in the scene and in Buck's eyes, and hope sizzles under his skin, strong and powerful. 

"That was amazing, Eddie. You really seem to get the character." Chimney smiles at him, forcing him to look away from Buck. "It's really a beautiful thing to see." 

"Thanks." Eddie fidgets with the script. He knows they won't make a decision right then and there, and certainly not in front of him, but something keeps him frozen in place. 

His feet refuse to walk away. 

Hope inside of him moves and weaves through his system like a hurricane, not wanting to leave. 

"You really do understand Gabriel, Eddie." Buck speaks. "That was— Well, I guess Blake Scatorccio said it. Extraordinary." Buck says softly, maybe too soft for what the moment calls. "Thank you." 

Thank God it's dark in the rear of the studio. No one can see the tomato-colored tidal wave surging up Eddie's neck.

"Again, thanks so much for the opportunity." Eddie says, feeling his lips dry up. "I, uh— Yeah. Thanks." He awkwardly waves and turns away, hope trailing behind him like a neon sign showing how much he needs, how much he wants this. He wonders if they can see it. He wonders if they care. 

He thinks Buck might. 

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @buddierights @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @bucktalias @maygrantgf @messyhairdiaz @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @cowboy-buddie @911onabc @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @elvensorceress @transbuck @transboybuckley @buckitup @prettyboybuckley @starlingbite

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

original inspo | art | playlist | moodboard | headcanons

boba fett x f!reader

Rated E | 40k [complete]

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, age gap, smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), outdoor sex, hurt/comfort, strangers-to-lovers, sort of slow-burn

The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.

And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.

i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world

ii. the stench of the sea and the absence of green

iii. the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on

iv. like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

v. you are unbreaking, though quaking

vi. like the bonfire that burns, that all words in the fight fell to**

vii. be known in it's aching, shown in the shaking**

viii. you’ll gaze unafraid, as they sob from the city roofs**

ix. i'm in love, i'm in love with you**

x. not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do**

series is now complete | reader is ‘new’ to the world so knowledge of the fallout universe is not necessary to enjoy! 💕

[wackybuddiemewbs]

Buddie Moodboard - Red, White & Royal Blue AU

So, guess who's been watching this movie adaptation way too often as of late? I'm taking the usual moodboard-y liberties, including mixing in some stuff from the book and the movie adaptation and keeping them at their ages from the show (and change their roles in society up as well...) Also, just imagining Oliver getting to speak with his actual accent lives in my head rent-free, as do many other things. But that's definitely up in the Top 10. Cheers!

Vice President Eddie Diaz could not be any more excited to attend the wedding of his friend Chimney and Princess Madeleine, Maddie for short. Well, he could be a bit happier, if Prince Evan, Maddie's brother, did not attend. He can't stand the guy ever since they met at a climate conference years ago. Eddie just doesn't have the patience to deal with entitled rich boys the likes of Prince Evan. After all, Prince Evan's only achievement in life seems to be to have a new girl every other week to have his picture on the front page of every tabloid there is.

While Eddie will insist that Prince Evan started this, he winds up having some part in what later spreads across social media as #cakegate. Which means the Vice President of the United States and the Prince of England are caught on camera, covered in cake, in Buckingham Palace, at a royal wedding.

Like winning re-election for President Robert "Bobby" Nash wasn't hard enough as it is. To relieve the situation, Eddie is stuck flying down to London for several photo ops to sell the story that him and Prince Evan are year-long friends. After all, alliances with Britain will be important, moving forward in Bobby's campaign.

Though the more time he's forced to spend with Prince Evan, the less he seems like the guy who was being such a jerk to him at that climate conference years ago. In fact, he seems like a genuinely good person. Who could have guessed?

While Eddie will insist that the prince enlisting MI6 to get his personal phone number, it does amuse him that Prince Evan seemingly wants to stay in touch. Over the next couple of months, the two wind up messaging each other almost daily. And to his even greater surprise, Eddie finds himself opening up to this man more than he's opened up to anyone ever since his wife passed away.

Prince Evan, or "Buck" as only friends get to call him, turns out to be anything but the persona portrayed by the Palace as well as the tabloids. Sure enough, he is a flirt, but a lot of his bravado covers up a rather insecure person who feels like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. Though the moment he is just with Eddie or Christopher, Buck seems perfectly at peace.

And strangely enough, Eddie does as well. After everything that's happened, he struggled trusting people with his son - and with himself. But with Buck, it's shockingly easy.

But things get complicated fast at the new year's party hosted at the White House. Because Eddie was not prepared for only just a second that Buck would end up kissing him.

And he did not expect to end up liking it.

Because he most definitely thought he was straight.

But after a few very awkward conversations with his friends, Eddie starts to realize that his actual sexual orientation may have been one of those other things he has since repressed. Who would have thought?

Buck is mortified at first, as he did not intend to confess his feelings for Eddie. But when they see each other again and Eddie kisses him back like that, Buck starts to believe that Eddie actually likes him back.

As both do not want a coming out just yet, considering their current situations as public figures, the two promise to keep things "casual". This arrangement works for a while, or so it would seem. Because it gets hard to stay "casual" when you start to care about someone so very deeply.

Buck makes some shocking discoveries surrounding his brother Daniel, which sheds a very different light on what he thought was his "destiny" and why his parents are acting that distantly towards him. To support Buck, Eddie invites him over to Los Angeles - where he normally lives, if not for his current political duties calling him to Washington. He wants to be there for Buck, and hopes that spending quality time with Christopher is going to get Buck out of his own head.

The plan proves to be a disaster, though. Buck spending a day "incognito" at the pier with Christopher results in both of them getting caught up in a tsunami. While both thankfully survive the natural disaster mostly unharmed, Buck is livid in the aftermath. He is convinced that he lost Christopher and thus failed him and Eddie.

Eddie draws very different conclusions after the event. After nearly losing both Christopher and Buck, Eddie is done being afraid of what other people - including his family - may think about him and his sexual orientation. He makes plans to bring Buck to Texas with him, to get to know his family, and to come out to them. And to make it clear that he is serious about wanting a relationship with Buck, as he has since fallen in love with him.

Just as Eddie is about to profess his feelings, Buck flees the scene and flies back to London. He refuses to talk to Eddie after that. But Eddie is not willing to give up just yet. So Eddie takes Christopher with him on his last-minute trip to London. Buck is in shock when he sees the two basically storming a castle to see him. Eddie confronts him about rushing off and ghosting him. Buck tries to act the part, but Eddie has since understood that Buck is just putting up a facade.

Buck eventually drops the act. More than anything, he wants to spend his life with Eddie and Christopher. He simply didn't dare to think that he could, given his role in life, and the fact that he still blames himself for what happened during the tsunami.

The two eventually reconcile, now sure of each other's true feelings for one another.

But just as they are about to get their lives back together and plan for a future together, chaos strikes when news start to spread about their relationship. Buck is yet again terrified, as the journalist running most of the stories is Taylor Kelly, an ex he thought he could trust in. And now it may cost Eddie his career, Bobby his re-election, Maddie's freedom away from the palace to find happiness with Chimney, and Buck the future he finally dared to fight for...

Find more moodboards here.

[wordssricochet]

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— — — — — — 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯, 𝔞 𝔡𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔞 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯. — — — — — —

• 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 (𝐧.)

𝙰 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚝.

𝟎𝟎𝟏: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠?

💬 ➤ This blog posts things related to films or books (mostly Dead Poets Society).

💬 ➤ This blog started out as a writing blog about Harry Potter and such. March used to make fanfics (Past tense, she doesn't make it as often as before) about her hyperfixations.

💬 ➤ This blog is made on March 29, 2024 (3/29/24) using a burner email.

💬 ➤ This blog's posts consists of: DPS, HP, Marauders, memes, literature, poems, moodboards, films, shows, books, shitposts, dark academia aesthetic, light academia aesthetic, academic related things, updates about the owner, fangirling over fictional crushes, opinions, facts, rants about life, headcanons, LGBT+ stuff, kpop, k-dramas, gaza support / fundraiser links, etc.

💬 ➤ This blog's anon asks are closed (due to the owner getting death threats from anonymous people). The submissions are always open, though, you can't be anonymous. Do not be shy, I love answering your asks:).

💬 ➤ This blog will use tags like ; #March yaps, #March rants, #March loves her moots, #March answers!!, and/or #March is ----- (emotion she is currently feeling).

💬 ➤ This blog supports palestine ! (click the word 'palestine', there is a link that would take you to vetted fundraisers for the people involved in the 1$r@3l's conquest).

𝟎𝟎𝟐: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞?

🍥 ྀི — Me, myself, and I

╰┈➤ INTP-T

╰┈➤ #1 Richard Cameron apologist, fan, defender (and the love of his life™ real, he told me so).

╰┈➤ A minor (I don't really care if you're 18+, you can interact, just don't message me privately).

╰┈➤ Obsessed about films dating 1800s to 1900s, or films that have dark and/or chaotic academia aesthetics.

╰┈➤ I like the color blue, red, and pink.

╰┈➤ I moot people that like the same things that I like.

╰┈➤ I like books, and I write some stories SOMETIMES.

╰┈➤ I'm Filipino (save me).

╰┈➤ I'm bi.

╰┈➤ She/her/they/them

╰┈➤ I love my moots (not joking).

╰┈➤ Please, tag me in tag games, I absolutely love it.

╰┈➤ I'm religious (Catholic)

╰┈➤ I got brainrot humor, oops.

╰┈➤ Todd Anderson kinnie:').

╰┈➤ Yappatron 3000

╰┈➤ SEVENTEEN enthusiast (I don't post about them in this blog).

╰┈➤ Current obsession : Tokyo Revengers, Viral Hit (webtoon)

╰┈➤ Xbox : caatysaa

��� ྀི — NOT me, myself, and I

⤷ I am NOT mean. I love it when you interact.

⤷ I DON'T use Tumblr DMs.

⤷ I am NOT cringe. I use brain rot humor on my posts sometimes, sue me.

⤷ I am NOT a serious person. I can be serious, sure, but I'm often always joking around.

𝟎𝟎𝟑: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐜𝐭?

✓ — What you CAN do in this blog:

» Being respectful

» Interacting

» Supportive

✘ — What you CAN'T do in this blog:

» Being toxic

» Sending hate to others or to the owner.

» Not respecting people's opinions.

» Not respecting people.

» Being racist (why?).

» Being homophobic/transphobic (why?) .

𝐔𝐡 𝐨𝐡! ฅ^.ᆺ.^ฅ

ⓘ Some posts may contain swear words (specifically rants, but I don't post that kind of stuff often).

ⓘ Some posts may be offensive (it depends on you if you get offended or not, but I don't post things sending hate to a specific type of audience).

💭 — ⍴ᥣᥱᥲsᥱ 𝗍ᥱᥣᥣ mᥱ і𝖿 ᥆ᥒᥱ ᥆𝖿 ᥒᥡ ⍴᥆s𝗍s һᥲ᥎ᥱ ᥆𝖿𝖿ᥱᥒძᥱძ ᥡ᥆ᥙ / mᥙᥣ𝗍і⍴ᥣᥱ ⍴ᥱ᥆⍴ᥣᥱ, і ᥕ᥆ᥙᥣძ gᥣᥲძᥣᥡ 𝗍ᥲkᥱ і𝗍 ძ᥆ᥕᥒ (ძᥱᥣᥱ𝗍ᥱ) і𝖿 ᥡ᥆ᥙ һᥲ᥎ᥱ ᥲ rᥱᥲs᥆ᥒ ᥲs 𝗍᥆ ᥕһᥡ ᥡ᥆ᥙ ᥕᥱrᥱ ᥆𝖿𝖿ᥱᥒძᥱძ (s᥆ і ᥴ᥆ᥙᥣძ ᑲᥱ𝗍𝗍ᥱr mᥡ ᥲᥴ𝗍і᥆ᥒs ᥒᥱ᥊𝗍 𝗍іmᥱ^^).

Thank you for your time to read all these. Do not ask me any more questions. I think that I've stated all the facts that you need to know regarding to this blog and I.

       — Sincerely, March. 

[andthisisdia]

🫧Hi🫧

Name: call me Dia💎

Age: I was born in 2002 and I'm too lazy to update my age every year💅

Nationality: Italian (English is not my first language so I might make some grammatical errors)

🏳️‍🌈: I'm a bisexual and demisexual/demiromantic girl (I use she/her pronouns)

MBTI: ENTJ (Don't stereotype me. I'm just really into doing things right and I like to have a plan for everything. I always try to find a solution to people's problems)

Something about me: I'm autistic 🪐 and I'm very extroverted, I like to socialize and meet new people. So if we have any interests in common, feel free to write to me🌌 (Read the continuation to find out more about me and what I post, it's important. Thank you)

(I made this edit using picsart stickers that represent my interests and something about me)

🎮Favorite video games:

•League of Legends (I play on the European server)

•Wildrift

•Valorant (I don't play it that much because I'm not very good)

•Overwatch

•Team Fortress 2 (my hyper fixation, I need to talk to other tf2 fans. I'm going crazy, I don't know who to talk to about it, I'm afraid of appearing boring to my friends who aren't fans😭😭😭)

•Life is strange (this game made me realize I'm not straight)

•Detroit Become Human

•Danganronpa (I discovered this thanks to tik tok during the pandemic. It was very trendy at the time)

•The last of us

•The Sims 3/4 (I never had the chance to play the previous ones)

🍿My favorite TV series are:

•Shameless

•Love, Death & Robots

•Bojack Horseman

•Arcane

•She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

•Ever After High

🎼Singers I like:

•Madison Beer

•Mitski

•Ariana Grande

•Ashnikko

•Kali Uchis

•Girl in Red

•Marina and the diamonds

•KDA ("Akali that girl, 'kali go grr 'Kali don't stop, 'kali don't skrt 'Kali got a job, 'kali go to work 뜨거워 언제나 don't get burnt" 🗣🗣🗣)

•Gorillaz

•Queen

•Molchat Doma

•Arctic Monkeys

•Mother Mother

•Jack Stauber

•Cavetown

•TV girl

•Bo Burnham

I actually listen to a lot of artists but I don't remember them all c:

🫧Things I like:

•Lost media

•Liminal space

•Dreamcore

•Nostalgiacore

•History of cinema (especially animated films)

•Psychology (and all other branches of this science. I also love anthropology and sociology)

•Travel and discover new places

•Everything that has to do with creativity (Drawing, writing stories and fanfiction, creating things like accessories for your clothes and such very cute things. I really admire people who can repaint dolls)

•Having fun (going out with my friends, watching films - if they're trashy films it's even better -, sending each other memes and tik tok videos and things like that)

🪷Hobby:

•Cosplay (Especially cosplaying my comfort characters)

•Drawing (I haven't drawn seriously since 2020. I'm waiting for inspiration)

•Collecting dolls (I love Monster High, Ever After High, Rainbow High and L.O.L O.M.G. I also collect Funko pops and figures from other brands. I also have many books and comics -which I have to finish reading because there are too many-)🧸

•Roleplay (Doing roleplay with me means that I have already organized the whole plot. But I also listen to the other person's ideas)

•Find out about the topics that interest me (Most of the time they have to do with culture. I'm a very curious person and I love to inform myself)

💿What I post on Tumblr:

•Things about my fandoms (Mostly I repost cute icons, headcanons and wallpapers) I post things related to my fandoms. I like making wallpapers, icons and moodboards (Maybe start writing some headcanons)

•Positivity (Especially mental health or pride posts about being a member of the LGBT community. Be yourself🌈Be unique)

•Aesthetics (If I see some nice photo of a sunset or the sky, I immediately repost it because I feel like it. I also post a lot of things related to nostalgia because as I said before I like the "nostalgiacore" aesthetic. And I'm very nostalgic, they were beautiful times when the only worry was "which Monster High character am I?")

•My posts are tagged "Dia's post"

🦦Other random things:

•My favorite musicals are Heathers and Ride The Cyclone (the name of my blog is a mix between two of these songs)

•I'm terrible with numbers and sometimes I read the wrong words (I have a learning disability -be patient-)

•In my blog there are posts about Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss BUT IT'S NOT A SPECIAL INTEREST OF MINE. I recognize that they are two series with a lot of plot holes and nonsense. But it still reminds me of time spent with my friends. I actually like hearing people analyze and criticize it. I'm fond of the character of Vaggie and I like the ship between Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb but as I wrote before: it's no longer a special interest of mine. I am neutral towards them

•I'm an atheist

•I am very interested in the meaning (and world) of dreams

‼️ Sometimes I also reposted something related to when I feel down. Unfortunately I have a lot of trauma but I'm trying to move forward and get better‼️

🔞I'm a girl from 2002 so I have young adult maturity‼️ For adults (because I know we are not all the same and not everyone likes some things) I would like to point out some things that I could reblog: I might reblog paintings or sculptures with naked people BUT also drawings with people semi-naked or shown in a sexy way. The artists I refer to are: Fumetti Brutti by Josephine Yole Signorelli and EvviArt. They are the only ones I follow but it is to make you understand what type of art I like. I could reblog posts where sexual topics are written: from the classic "use protection when having s3x" or raise awareness about some topics related to this theme. I want people to be informed about some aspects of this topic (I'm not talking about p0rnographic things ) such as the importance of using protection and above all how important consent is. I don't reblog kink-related stuff or explicit porn because it's not a topic of interest to me. And I don't even have kink because s3x isn't a topic that interests me. It doesn't shock me to hear about NSFW things (it disgusts me if disturbing topics are included in this topic). Many of my interests (TV series or video games and things like that) involve adult themes. I prefer to specify that I could publish things like this because I know that many people don't want to see these things. And in any case I want to talk to people my own age. If you like some wallpaper made by me, there are no problems because a wallpaper is a normal thing and everyone can use them. But if you don't like adult things then don't interact (especially if you're a minor) In summary: you can like icons or wallpapers or memes (these are innocent things and everyone likes them. Everyone uses icons and wallpapers) but interact with me if you are adults🔞

🧜‍♀️Comfort characters:

•Jinx (League of legends/Arcane. She is my main and for certain things I see myself in her)

•Seraphine (League of Legends. didn't like her at first but I love her gameplay. And I think she has the best skins -along with Jinx, of course-)

•Evelynn (League of Legends. She's a Goddess)

•Chloe Price (Life is strange. She made me understand that I like women too. I love this punk)

•Sunset Shimmer (Equestria Girls. She is one of the few ENTJs to be a positive character. I really like how her character has evolved)

•Reagan Ridley (Inside Job. We are very similar in certain things)

•Entrapta (She ra. I love this chaotic neutral autistic scientist princess. Again, I see myself in her)

•Kotori Minami (Love Live! When I was in middle school this was my favorite anime)

•Dia Kurosawa (Love Live! Sunshine. Love Live is an anime that accompanied me as I grew up. I'm very fond of it)

❕️I'm looking for young adult people like me (young adult means being over 18 and under 30). I have no problem with NSFW (I prefer artistic nudity) and I have no problem with swearing. I have a certain maturity so I want to interact with people like that.❕️

‼️ This is my safe space🗣 SO DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME IF YOU ARE: racist, homophobic, ableist, transphobic and against the LGBT community, do not interact if you are a pedophile and if you harm animals.Don't fetishize queer people. We are people, not nsfw categories. And don't romanticize the Mafia. Be kind and open-minded. Don't interact if you are against feminism (which I remind you, means gender equality), don't interact if you are people with ideas of hatred and discrimination. No ignorant people about mental health or what is happening in the world, because we are in 2024 and we need to have a minimum of culture. If you think abortion is murder, I would say you can also go elsewhere because I support women's rights and human rights in general. In general, don't interact if you are a person with bad ideas (that kind of bad ideas. Go away)‼️

🌟Talk to me if you are a normal person (and if you're nice and send funny memes. Or if you want to talk about some fandom in common or something. We can also play some video games together or talk about philosophical things like "what's the point of life?" or things like "do aliens exist?")🌟

[agentmarcuspike]

hiii! in honor of reaching this milestone of 2500 followers and bots, i wanted to have a celebration! you guys are so cool and inspiring and kind, i wanted to give something back to you.

to celebrate with me, send me any request for a moodboard, graphic, poem, or ficlet, based on any character, book, place, person, fic, pairing, movie or show; whatever tickles your fancy, and as far as i'm familiar with it, i'll make you something based on your prompt!

╰┈➤ here are some examples of things i'm open for (but please don't limit yourself to these): the last of us, doctor who, the ppcu (pedro pascal cinematic universe) in general, poetry, gilmore girls, jane austen, taylor swift, fleabag, twilight, idk just try me and i'll make it work ♡

i’ll start posting next week (06/11) requests will stay open for as long as anyone’s interested!

[lilolilyr]

For "Being Known" (Helena writer, Myka actress): 2 and 3, 6 and/or 7 (whichever you like better, or both), and 9!

Ah, thank you! My longest Bering and Wells fic to date :D

Moodboard & header for the fic, and Here's the ask meme

2. How did you come up with the idea?

It was part of a gift exchange, and my giftee had asked for a pop culture AU, with some fusion prompts for fandoms I didn't know very well - so instead of trying to find out enough about eg Buffy the Vampire Slayer to write a fic in that world, I asked whether a celebrity AU would work, and here we are!

3. Did the idea change at all by the time the fic was complete?

I expanded my initial idea a lot - adding Steve, Leena, Artie, Caturanga, Jane and Amanda, I'm pretty sure initially it was just supposed to be HG and Myka with side characters Claudia and Pete. I don't remember exactly what the plan was and what came later, apart from having the idea of Helena's conflict about wanting to remain anonymous while being passionate about something that could bring her a lot of fame early on...I'll have to see whether I still have my initial draft somewhere and I can add it at the end of the post, I tend to write in messages on telegram and copy paste them to an ao3 draft or word doc once I start editing, so the messages should still be the original first draft.

I think I was unsure whether or not I should add an AU-ified Christina related backstory and work that into part of the reason for Helena's reluctance over fame, I had several ideas about her own childhood, her knowing a child something happened to, or actually writing Christina into her backstory... I went back and forth between Christina being a child star and Helena herself being one, I think in the end I just made Helena one because it worked better for the story though I would have liked to have more Christina backstory, but oh well, kill your darlings.

6. How did you decide what tense and POV(s)to use? / 7. How did you decide what character(s) would narrate the fic?

Honestly, I rarely decide that kind of thing consciously - I guess if you want to write something commercially there are lots of things to consider, but I write for fun and I'll write wherever my ideas bring me. Sometimes I'll notice a scene works better from a different POV and I change it, but usually it just happens one way and then it's fine to leave it as is

In this case I think I immediately knew it would mainly be Helena's POV because it's really her story I wanted to tell.

9. Did you get stuck at any point? How did you get past that?

Claudia! Hah, I mean I didn't get stuck on her, but that I used her to get past difficult scenes, giving Helena a much needed push! Especially near the end, when it comes to Helena accepting the possibility of a relationship between her and Myka.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was fun to talk about :)

.

This is my draft for the fic, the way it was written (in a messenger chat with just myself in it, as I start most fics) in one go, before making any edits at all!

You'll notice a lot of 'xx' markers - because there aren't really any words with that, it's easy to search a text for that later on, so whenever I know I still need to fix something - add a sentence, translate a word, edit bullet points into paragraph, add entire scenes - I write XX to mark it for later.

wip bering and wells author actress AU for anandabrat

Working title The Perfect Warrior

HG (former child actor turned?) writer under pseudonym hiding from fame (bc burned out from kid fame?), slowly getting back into acting, does improv for fun

Myka either star there to help 'learning' amateur actors for xxkomparsen? Or she's a newcomer and HG is back on film?

Claudia's HG's friend, Pete Myka's

ohhh what about Helena's book being verfilmt & Myka main role, HG making sure she won't be overwhelmed..

xxx

xxflashback seven months prior

"H.G., I'm coming in!"

Helena covers her head with a pillow when she hears Claudia Donovan's shouting from the backyard before a well-aimed kick against the old garden door has it fling open.

"Breaking and entering, really?" Helena's muffled voice lets Claudia know where she is. "I would have thought that petty crime is belowxx you."

"Come oooon," Claudia pulls the pillow from her face and Helena is left squinting at the sudden light. "We're going out! A friend of mine has a gallery opening, and there's bound to be a crowd of interesting people there!"

"I can't," Helena grouches. "I have to write, I still haven't finished either of those silly sequels my agents want me to work on."

"Riiight," Claudia nods, juggling the pillow between her hands. "Because that's what you were doing right now. Writing."

"Oh, cut the sarcasm." Helena growls. She is in a bad enough mood without Claudia butting in and making it worse.

"Alright then." Instead of backing down, Claudia throws the pillow onto the bed and, hands on her hips, stares Helena down. "I'll speak xxklartext. You're wasting away here, H.G.! You hate the books you're supposed to write, you refuse to write anything else either, you haven't seen any of our friends in months and now you're getting your groceries delivered so you don't even have to leave the house? That's the final straw!"

"Who snitched on me," Helena xx Leena?sbcanonordontmention

"It'll be good for you," Claudia insists. "You can dazzle everyone with your Wikipedia brain, and maybe you'll meet a xxverleger who wants to publish one of your weirder novellas. Come on, get up. get up, if not for yourself then do it for me because there's no way I'll go schmooze with the rich and famous all on my own!"

"I still cannot believe you managed to talk me into this," Helena sighs, looking at the xx and bustle around her.

"I'm up, I'm up," Helena sighs and avoidsxxausweichen Claudia's attempt to pull her from the bed by sitting up. "Alright, what exactly is this opening we're going to?"

...

Laughing, herxxfriend Claudia bumps their elbows together. "You better believe it, there's no getting out of it now! And this will be good for you! xx I'm happy for you, H.G., this is a dream come true!" She twirls around without missing a step, taking it all in.

"The fact that it makes you xxgoodposition takes no part in it, I'm sure." Helena deflects. She doesn't want to admit that Claudia is right and she is thrilled to have her characters coming to life for the big screen - nor does she want it known that, despite all the negotiations and concessions on side of the production studio, she is still afraid that she won't recognise the world she created once the movie is done. Will they do justice to the worlds of trees and cogwheels, to the unseeing creator and the warrior with the unruly hair? Will they listen to Helena when she has suggestions, will the stick to the details from the book, will it even be possible to transfer it to the new medium?

This and more goes through Helena's mind as she lets Claudia drag her along over the big parking lot and storage area, past trucks with equipment and the xxvans for cast and crew towards the xxhall.

first time sees Myka - the perfect xxcharactername warrior.

xx looks after her xx her hair xx in the wind, a sharp edge to her big brown eyes that negates anything childish about their shape, xx stepping out of the camper

xx C hey, we're not here to flirt! Can't believe I need to say that to you, you're like, the least likely person xx xx pretty girl

xx not what - I mean yes beautiful, but not what that wasabout -

xx oh /beauuutiful

xx shut up Donovan

xx later sees Myka in makeup all *sideeye* what did you do to my xxcharactername

argument - need makeup! Looks silly on camera without, different than irl!

HG: well if so, just makeup that makes it look decent with the lights and closeups, NOT that kind of obvious eye makeup, and who had the idea that a warrior in a cyberpunk dystopia would need a bold red lip? Or shaved pits?

xx Myka uncomfortable, thinks she has done something wrong, especially when sent back out in the middle of the scene, doesn't notice the argument

co-star Pete tries to comfort her

xxMyka thinks maybe this was bad idea, should quit

xx HG will Not lose my warrior!

(xx Myka in trouble

xx HG kann wen zusammenscheißen, makes sure Myka's fine)

xx from then on Helena trying to keep an eye on Myka, asks how she's dealing with the pressure, what her plans are for if she'll be famous after this project, whether she has a good agent to protect her interests, etc... (eg where u live? city apartment...

H:security? M:none?? H:myself, nature away from most people M: wish could affort...)

Myka: know you're just doing this because you think I'm a good fit for the character and you don't want it to be ruined by me quitting, but I still really appreciate

HG: what?? No, am doing this - well, would for everyone! Know how it is, when I was a kid... nevermind. But, care about you too

Myka finds out why HG is so wary about fame

go to premiere together - "don't have to hold a speech, don't even have to tell anyone who you are, but at least go as my date?"

As usual, I had a first scene instantly in my head, then started thinking quicker than I could write and had to note down bullet points so I wouldn't forget anything xD

Again, thanks for the ask :)