#writer's block is barely even an issue i have to deal with anymore

[dreamsicle262]

alright time to work on another chapter of my fanfic that even i, as the author, am emotionally invested in (i say as i continue to do other things instead of writing)

[insomniaink95]

Uuuugggghhhhh… okay. Proship/Antiship discourse. Inky's got opinions on this...

Okayso, I have never known what the terms proship and antiship ACTUALLY mean. I know about the issues SURROUNDING what the terms mean but not what they actually 100% really mean at all. I did not grow up on tumblr. I had an account for, I think, three months once before deleting it, and didn't come back until I made this account a couple months ago. I also have only ever read fanfiction written by close friends and a single Final Fantasy VII fic from the ancient internet days of 1999(I barely know how to navigate Ao3 to read friends fanfics even). I have never had any real interest in any kind of shipping with the only caveat being a VERY mild fascination involving GriffGuts… So basically no real exposure to any community that was dealing with this.

So about a decade ago(give or take) when I first heard the terms proship and antiship, my understanding of it without looking anything up was that there were people who were against shipping in general and people who generally enjoyed it. I had no outside input and no impetus to go find out because I had heard the terms in a complete vacuum without their actual meanings. It just sounded like another random internet argument that I had no interest in whatsoever.

Several years later I FINALLY started hearing a few people's negative opinions on proshippers as well as other people's negative opinions on antishippers and realized my understanding of this was completely lacking and that it wasn't just some dumb argument and it was based on very important societal impacts. …so I went looking for what the two terms actually meant.

And the reason I have never known what the two terms actually mean is because depending on who's words you're reading the two terms can mean any number of different things with wildly different negative connotations for one group or the other. And it can be any DEGREE of negative connotations depending on who's explaining it as well!

On the most negative edges of the definitions I have heard proshippers described as those who enjoy fictional CP/incest/abuse who don't care that the propagation of that material in a positive light can have a real negative impact upon society and what other's perceive as acceptable irl.

And I have heard antishiipers described as censorious puritans who are against sex-positivity and are often also anti-LGBTQ+ and have even been compared specifically to the "burned furs" movement.

And of course from that level of negative connotation on either side all the way down to some folks thinking it's just a mild difference of opinion and no big deal…

I've got a good idea of what the terms SHOULD mean these days. but I just did another quick web search to see what any young people would run into if they were curious about the term's meanings after just hearing them for the first time. Y'know, what're the KIDS gonna learn these two terms mean today if they go to look it up like I did several years ago.

It's the same jumble of definitions that I ran into several years ago. Both from random people who gained their opinions on what the terms meant from the SAME jumble of definitions to news articles in which the writers did a cursory glance at what the meanings were(basically looked at whatever the first google search result on the subject said) and wrote authoritative articles on the subject.

pulling my hair out!!!

The ISSUE is deadly serious. But these terms have no useful application in society. I don't know the history enough to say if they ever DID, but they don't anymore at least. There's been so much muddying of things by those who don't want their interest in hardcore muppet babies porn to result in reasonable people giving them the side eye and hitting the block button AS WELL AS online "news" content mills doing their best to make a quick buck by churning out articles on the subject that are authoritative and "well researched" when the authors don't know jack and had no interest in ever knowing jack in the first place!

asdlkfja;dfja;kfja;ldfja;sdlfkj

Also, does anti proship mean the same thing as antiship or is that a new term with a completely new meaning??? I am an old man who doesn't even have a smart phone, someone take me back to my room, my grand-kids are supposed to visit soon!

[dearestaeneas]

I think, as a writer, writing for yourself is the most important thing you can do when you create. I’ve been working on the same story for years and finally come to terms with the fact that even if I’m published and famous one day, no one will ever read this book as much as I have, so I better make it something I like. I think that’s important. But I do think there’s a conflict when you share yourself through your writing- sometimes when I write for myself I’ll have the thought, “I hope people like this if I post this,” and it makes me worry I’m not doing it for myself anymore. I imagine this is universal. All this considered, I’m hesitant to share this story. It was for me. But! It’s my birthday and I have been suffering from chronic writer’s block, and I suppose I can always delete this later. Here’s something I wrote after seeing @neil-gaiman on April 28.

⭐ 

I saw my favorite author today. I sat in my seat, clutching my purse, jiggling my legs with excitement. My cell phone sat in my lap and acted as a technological pancake, flipping front and back, front and back, its glowing face counting the minutes. Any minute now. I saw my favorite author today.

He came on stage and he told stories, shared works published and un, taking breaks to answer audience questions. I devoured his words, applying them to myself. Why, I’m an aspiring writer! I’m looking for my voice! Write, write, write, he said. Get your heart broken. Live. Write, write, write. I saw my favorite author today.

I have a hard time living in the present. As I sat in my seat, clutching my purse and jiggling my legs, I made the distinct point of paying very close attention. I wouldn’t let my mind wander. My mind wanders sometimes. I have what they call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and it isn’t wanting-all-the-colors-on-the-shelf-to-match-up-nicely. I’m very detached, and I don’t think the way I suppose an attached person does. I don’t think the OCD has a direct relationship to the detachment, but I do obsess over being detached. They’re married, I suppose. I saw my favorite author today.

I had to pee toward the end. Felt my back teeth floating. That was a phrase I learned from one of my favorite author’s books. It describes the feeling well. This sensation presented a problem, but none I wouldn’t be able to deal with. You couldn’t have paid me to leave that room. I sat, squirming in my seat, devouring his words. There was only one small problem. A teensy, tiny problem. Barely anything.

The problem was this: I was alone in the theater. There were people, sure, but I knew they weren’t real. Not even the woman that stood up and made an announcement about how she had reverse engineered something that would solve all bipartisan issues was real. Not even the two friends who had so kindly picked me up from my apartment and let me ride in the backseat of their little car. No, none of them were real. I knew this because I could see Them.

They were in the corner of my vision. The seats to my right were empty, not even filled with Not People. That’s where I saw Them. They sat perfectly still, but They faced me, at three-fourths. They perched on the folded up seat, like a monkey. I may have seen wings, I may have seen claws, but Their posture was perfectly primate. I ignored Them. I accepted They were there, and I ignored Them.

My favorite author continued to talk. He read a story about igloos. I liked it. They disappeared out of my vision for a while. That was okay. He read a story about the Holy Grail after answering some questions. A lot of the questions were from teachers. That was okay. He finished with a few more questions, and then read a short story offering advice, and comparing writing to making a chair. Throughout the show, I teared up. After all, I was seeing my favorite author.

At the end, the Not People stood and clapped. They started to file out of the theater, and he pretended to walk off stage. I was going to join the flood of exiting bodies. And then they stopped.

“Did you enjoy it?” I heard him ask. He was back onstage. The Not People were gone. It was just us. Me. And my favorite author. “Yes,” I replied. He nodded. “I want to be a writer,” I said. He nodded again. We stood together in silence. The theater remained empty. “Where did They go?” I asked.

“They were never here,” He replied simply.

“Not them,” I corrected. “Them.”

He smiled. He stepped off the stage and walked toward me. He’d looked shorter on stage. I could see he was several inches taller than me now. “Do you really want to know?” I expected the question to be somewhat mischievous. It wasn’t. It was sincere, and a little sad. Did I want to know? I’d like to say I was being driven by a higher power, by some great drive for a divine reason, but that would be a lie. I was simply curious. Maybe that was why he told me. Maybe it was the simplicity of my interest. Do I really want to know? “I don’t think I have an option,” I said. He considered this a moment before nodding and offering me his hand. We walked together out of the empty theater.

“Are you scared?” I asked as we continued down the empty street behind the theater. “Are you?” He responded. I thought about this as we walked silently, hand in hand. “A little,” I said finally. I looked up after saying this to see him nodding slightly. It didn’t have the wisdom in it I expected. It was simply a nod. “A little.” He answered a moment later. We walked on, both a little afraid.

They were in the windows of the old bars and warehouses we passed. Our conversation was light. I behaved myself. I imagine it would be uncomfortable to hear someone gush about all you’ve done to change their life, how it’s your fault there’s another writer in the world. I imagine that’s a terrible burden. I admitted to him that everything I wrote was dedicated to him in a way. I don’t know how he felt about that. I hope it was a nice thing to hear. He made me laugh, and he listened politely when I spoke. We talked about books.

We were in front of the theater again. Our brows furrowed at the same time. We’d been walking in a straight line. They watched from the bars and warehouses. We reentered the theater. The Not People were back, waiting politely in the corridors. We reentered the theater, where we saw ourselves. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, for the first time. “Yes,” I answered. We watched as he walked to me, as he offered his hand, as they walked through us into the world. They’d be back.

The show restarted. We sat together, watched it through. I clapped at all the same parts. “Is it weird?” I asked as the Not People exited the theater backwards, as he left the stage and climbed backwards into a car somewhere outside. “Most things are,” He shrugged. I shrugged, too. That was fair. They flitted around the room. Mostly They climbed on seats and studied. It was okay.

“Does it ever stop?” I asked as the lights in the theater turned off. I stood, offering my own hand this time. He smiled and took it. “Not for us.” As we walked out of the theater, I smiled. “This was nice.” He smiled, and nodded, and I was in a line. The show had ended, and I was in a line. My two friends spoke. One of their friends had come up to us. I listened politely as he talked about his job, how he was offered free tickets to the show from multiple friends, and chose the one he hadn’t seen in the longest. I thought that made sense.

I bought two books. One of them was a book I read illegally, if such a thing was possible. I started to read it in the school’s library, and then the school year ended. To solve my problem, I would go to different bookstores and, remembering my page number, read until I thought I looked suspicious. I did that until I finished the book. I enjoyed it. I figured if I was ever going to pay for the book, I may as well get it this way.

On the way to the car, I talked to my friends about a horror musical that had made some questionable casting choices. I didn’t tell them I had spent so much time with my favorite author. We drove, and talked, and talked about space and John Wayne and billboards in the South. We reached my apartment, and I thanked them, and made them promise me to text when they got home. I walked out the back door to my car, to get my water bottle. I didn’t want them to see they’d dropped me off in an inconvenient place. It was nice of them to drop me off at all.

As I ate my dinner late that night and prepared myself for bed, I realized I couldn’t remember any of the show, except the parts I’d become detached momentarily for. It stressed me. When I finally fell asleep, I had a dream about my favorite author. Or, he was there. We took a photograph together. It was nice. We didn’t talk, but that was okay. We’d spent a lot of time together the night before, and it wasn’t necessary for us to speak in the dream. We were still speaking, we are speaking. We are walking hand in hand through an empty street, being watched by dozens of pairs of eyes, we are watching ourselves speak and offer whatever comforts we can. Everything is so goddamn weird. That was okay. He told me it would never stop being so goddamn weird. That was okay.

I met my favorite author today.

[venicebixch]

🚨TW: mentions of r4pe / SA, exploitation, misogyny, pedo, if any of these things make u uncomfortable please skip this post🚨

Same anon. . sw wil never be ethical i was criticizing the indrusty not the SWers , the industry should be demonised, it’s harmful not to mention how it encourages violence and S/A aswell as abusive behaviour towards women. . The existsince of 🌽 itself IS exploitation of women. Period. It was invented on the basis of misogyny and exploitation of women and their bodies and LMFAOOOOO DID U SAY PORNHUB IS HAS ETHICAL CONTENT???? 🤣🤣 If that was the case they would take down the “BARELY LEGAL TEEN!!!!!!!!” category giving pedos outlets theres many more steps to come (which will never actually come cause they are making money) . u saying all jobs are technically also unethical bc they are all driven by money. and mentioning all those jobs like nba player, or people who work in factory’s that are exposed to harmful chrmicals. do u have any critical thinking at all?? that’s wage labor for skilled trades, services, etc. A woman’s body being used/violated for sex with men is not the same thing. but maybe ur just weird and think paying someone to have sex with u even tho theres no way to verify their consent is totally fine. Sooo What’s ur price for consent? and you know imma say something in pretty much laymans terms to help u understand what I mean. There’s much more depth and reasons but heres why I believe no 🌽 is ethical. even the so called ethical ones u think of. The very act of paying for it, being paid for it, creates a coercive and imbalanced power dynamic. They also cannot ever revoke consent once it’s up. The simple fact that there is still no way to prove or confirm that it is ethical. Further, you can’t buy consent. It must be freely given. Consent SHOULD be - freely given, and be able to be revoked at any time no matter what. Neither of these conditions can be met for ANY form of “corn”. be mindful of how addictions manifest and how harmful it is for the brain, i love ur writings and ur very talented and this isn’t meant to come off as me hating u. I used to think that 🌽 was fine until I ruined my sleep schedule for weeks researching how terrible SW is and scarring myself with pstar testimonies, maybe it’s cause I’ve never interacted with p*rn but to me , why would you take that risk knowing u could have watched someone be r***ed yk?.

alright you’re clearly mad and i’m done with the conversation. i’m literally just here to vibe and simp for vinnie. i’m a damn vinnie hacker fanfic writer on here, that’s all. i’m not tryna contemplate consent and misogyny or critique the societal norms for women, i do enough of that in my uni classes. if you don’t think i know PLENTY about these issues, i do. i promise. i’m not a fucking idiot. i did debate club for years, i’m well versed on a lot of issues and have strong opinions on them. nonetheless, i’m literally just here to chill and write. i’m so damn tired of anons starting shit like this. if you have a problem with what i post and say, leave. it’s quite literally that simple and some of y’all are beyond insufferable on here. strangers on tumblr are not a medium for you to take out your anger toward society on. go argue with a mf on tiktok or twitter or something cause i’m not the one lol

i have my own opinions and you have your own opinions, and that’s that. you’re not gonna convince me all sex work is wrong because it isn’t. see my last post because it seems to be going over your head when i say there’s ETHICAL and NONETHICAL sex work, period. and you keep bringing up the clearly nonethical side and using it to make your point about sex work as a whole.

i do not have the energy to deal with anons like this anymore, i could write books explaining my perspective and it’s not gonna matter because we both have our own beliefs. i’m this 👌🏻 close to just blocking people who start this shit with me. chill tf out.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty 

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it?  Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing:  My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup​.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on?  Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.  

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

[goodbyekillingharmony]

My own interpretation of Qrow's character in V8

also, before we get really into this, of course, there will be spoilers. don’t say i didn’t warn you. also, probably don’t take this too seriously? i wrote this at like 3 in the morning last night and wanted to rework it into something more proper. i tried to make it flow more properly and fuck this may not even make any sense, so bare with me. this is mostly a headcanon i have to get myself through the travesty that is volume 8 and it did make it more enjoyable for me, so i guess that is a plus.

alright, i think i have bored you enough with the unnecessary parts, here we go boys. also, one final thing, this isn’t supposed to undermine shit like part 8 or f//r g//me, or anything of the sort, this was just made as a fun little headcanon that got serious real quick. okay, actually starting now.

I think most RWBY fans have noticed a sudden shift in behavior in Qrow. I don’t really know what the consensus is for this since I hardly, if ever, interact with this fandom, however, for me, until yesterday, it had bothered me heavily. I am a fairly harsh critic when it comes to the writing on the show, purely due to the fact I want to become a writer myself, so I tend to be overly analytical, which can lead to me finding flaws more easily. Nevertheless, even with my mostly neutral feelings regarding Volume 8 right now for various reasons, I persisted. It wasn’t until last night when I really started thinking about this, putting my more critical self aside, and started to look at the bigger picture. Then, an idea had popped into my mind.

Based on someone who has severe trust issues and immense paranoia, I had finally understood, well, at least, theoretically. What if the reason that Qrow is so hostile and, honestly, unreasonable this volume is because he suspected something like this. He suspected Ironwood to do something akin to this. Obviously, not to this severe of a degree, but he felt that like, sooner or later, that this would happen.

What do I mean by this? Well, me and a good friend of mine (@graegrape hi) had gone traversing the RWBY Wikia and found something that honestly kick started the entire thing. 

“ General Ironwood shows concern over Qrow's warning in his conversation with Ozpin in "Welcome to Beacon", which prompted him to bring his fleet to Vale in hopes of preventing conflict in the Vytal Festival. However, this action only served to infuriate Qrow. ’’

Naturally, this had caught my eye. So, we went digging for some screencaps.

When Qrow informed Ironwood and Co. about finding some of Salem's forces, Ironwood had deployed, essentially, his entire fleet, and Qrow was absolutely angered by this; how the hell could he have messed it up so badly?

-

However, at least in this point in time during Volume 3, Qrow doesn’t completely distrust Ironwood.

“ Qrow has commented that he wonders if Ironwood has a heart. Nonetheless, Qrow saves Ironwood from a Griffon in "Heroes and Monsters", knowing the general is innocent of the carnage caused by his automated forces. He shows his respect and loyalty by asking Ironwood for suggestions regarding their plan of action to deal with the invading Grimm, showing that while he may not respect his methods, Qrow does not completely hate him or view him as a threat. ‘’

What was the point of this part of the post, OP? Well, I am happy you asked. I wanted to show just exactly what their dynamic was back in those volumes, almost as a refresher. There is some amount of trust and respect, and there is some amount of comradery there, however, something underlying is starting to brew, specifically Qrow’s reaction to Ironwood’s course of action. My own interpretation of this part? This gave Qrow a proper look at how extreme Ironwood could get, letting it settle in his own mind for a while, making the seed of doubt of Ironwood’s self-destructive behavior plant itself.

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The next part of this post will be way more hypothetical. While I will try to provide evidence, this is creeping into more headcanon-ish territory. You have been warned lol.

Well, that’s all of the Volume 2 - 3 stuff out of the way, time to move onto the elephant in the room. Alright, so Volume 7, a favorite for many and I am no exception.

However, even when I have rewatched the Volume at least 3 times at this point, there was a certain scene that had always stuck out to me, and that is relevant to the post at hand, so might as well get it out of the way. I’m sure we all know what I’m talking about here.

The hug.

So, when the hug happened, for Qrow, at least in my own interpretation, it felt like his entire world got shattered.

Ironwood had actually missed him; actually taking the time to tell him that he cared. You could see Qrow wasn’t as tense anymore, actually letting his guard down in front of someone that wasn’t his family. In my opinion, specifally with this frame,

Qrow had started to reflect. To reflect on not only their own relationship, but on himself as well. He, possibly, had his own seed of doubt regarding Ironwood slowly starting to disappear. Something akin to, “Maybe he does have a heart.” or whatever. 

And then, Ironwood, of all people, had betrayed him. It had happened again.

══════════════════

Suddenly, he was given a reason, at least in his mind, to justify his distrust of others, but of Ironwood especially. He was right in his mind. “Sooner or later, someone close to me would do this. And to imagine it being to such a severe situation too. He did it again.” Qrow was probably devastated. I’m not denying that he wasn’t sad about Clover, he clearly was and I am not going to deny that fact. However, that being his only reason does not sit well with me. His colleague, one of the remaining people in Ozpin’s group, had done this, after he had promised to ensure his safety, planting a false hope within him. Now, he was thrown away like a rag by one of the only remaining members of Ozpin's circle he could get into proper contact with.

Qrow’s sadness turning into anger is literally perfectly in character to him, so it would make complete sense, trying to deflect everything, because he, himself, wants to be right in his own mind; it was a long time coming, it only happened now.

He’s deflecting a lot of the things, pushing it in the back of his mind. He's scared. He has to be alone again. Just when he thought he was finally safe to trust people again, to seek comfort in someone like Clover, the first person he was willing to spill his heart out to, as well; he lost him. So, he uses everything he can to stop his mind from thinking about it. Anger, sadness, blissful ignorance; whatever he can do to ignore it, because he gave up drinking, so he can't use that for coping anymore.

The reason why he’s reacting so extremely is, in my opinion,is not just due to “Oh, well, I saw this coming.”, but also that he is going through withdrawl. He has to do cope using other methods, since he can’t use his former one anymore. He has to feel the full brunt of his own emotions, he can’t numb them down anymore, and to himself, he can’t justify his own feelings. In his mind, the best course of action is to redirect those extremes onto someone else.

It is quite possibly that Qrow had noticed Ironwood’s sudden shift in behavior, making him reflect on himself, too. He sees that Ironwood is walking down the same path that he himself was going down many years ago, but he can’t do anything. He thinks that Ironwood wouldn’t listen to him, considering what happened back in the Vytal festival. Ironwood did not back down in the slightest back then, so why would he now? That type of mentality. He doesn’t bother with it.

(This next part was written by my good friend and honestly? Great food for thought.) 

Qrow’s former emotions mirror those of Ironwood’s current ones. Qrow, back in the earlier volumes, had used alcohol to help ease his mind and block out things he didn’t want to think about. And now, current Ironwood, is only focusing on what’s directly in front of him and blocking out the entirety of Mantle.

In essense, Ironwood had become exactly what he hated about Qrow.

(I rewrote it a bit, but the main idea was all them. Thank you so much for this.)

He is deliberately using everything he can to not think about Ironwood, due to the fact that he can easily become irrational when he does, and he does need Robyn as an ally, so he buries it all down, possibly being self-aware about his own behavoir, but not know how to deal with it.

══════════════════

Well, that sure was long. There could be things I forgot to mention, and I’m not even sure if this is well structured or not, since I’m not used to writing essays, at least, not to this caliber, but I hoped it, at least, made you possibly think about Qrow in a more intiment sense. Qrow’s and Ironwood’s relationship had always been the most facsinating one in the entire show, so seeing it being thrown to the side did sting a bit. But, I hope that there was a good reason for it. I am still looking forward to what V8 has in store, especially with the heavily implied fight, I just hope it’s something more than just Qrow getting revenge for Clover. C’mon, CRWBY! I know you can do better.

If you made it this far, thank you. And please understand I made this out of pure love for the show. I have been a fan for a while now and I only want what’s best for the show. I promise this isn’t just me being a salty Ironqrow shipper lmao Anyway, let’s hope this volume turns out great.

[ladymoonveil]

Thoughts on Zack Snyder’s Justice League

If the original JL was a 3/10, this one is closer to a 6/10.  It's definitely an improvement given the fact that it has twice the running time to flesh out various characters and scenes.  Unfortunately, this movie still doesn't make me excited to see more of the Snyderverse, and I'm kind of glad that DC is starting to go in a different direction with their cinematic stuff.  Some additional thoughts below:

The Good

There are some really gorgeous shots in this movie when the slo-mo is aptly used.  A standout scene for me is the football match in the falling snow; from a visual perspective it looked fantastic.

Cyborg got a lot more backstory compared to the original JL, and so did the Flash and Aquaman to a lesser extent.  This time around I was more interested in Cyborg, so the additional time taken to develop his character paid off well.

Overall, the plot is also a lot more cohesive.  For the most part, I understood why the characters acted in certain ways, and the story flowed better from scene to scene.

Despite the fact that this movie is 4+ hours long, it didn't feel like a drag.  I think breaking it up into chapters was a smart decision, and the pacing was fine.

Steppenwolf looks much better in Snyder's version.  I really like the way they animated his armour.

There are some neat fight scenes, and all the characters got their chance to shine at least once.

The Bad

The slo-mo in this movie is like 300 on crack.  It's so excessive that even the moments that really benefit from this effect became less special because you see it so often.

I particularly disliked the scene where the Flash saved the girl from the car accident.  It felt like a worse version of the Quicksilver scenes, and him brushing back the girl's hair instead of just saving her right away is kind of creepy.

I also did not understand why Wonder Woman used her gauntlets to blow out part of that building instead of just incapacitating the guy with the gun.  She's obviously fast enough to do it, and she didn't have to put anyone else outside the building in danger of falling debris or give the impression that a bomb went off.  Just felt incredibly out of character.

There is no reason for the Martian Manhunter to be in this movie.  The fact that the discussion between Martha and Lois was actually a discussion between MM and Lois really cheapened that entire scene for me.  Martha and Lois have barely anything to do in this movie, why didn't Snyder let the real Martha have a heart to heart with Lois about the death of someone that they both loved dearly?  Instead, he turned it into a cheap cameo that ruined the emotional impact between the two characters

Although new characters like Cyborg had some additional screen time to flesh out their backstories, we should have gotten more.  For example, they brought up the huge revelation of Cyborg having control over all the nukes in the world, but then completely glossed over how that works.  Does he need to be in proximity to the nukes?  Can he "accidentally" fire off the nukes if he has a nightmare or something?  Does he even have nightmares anymore?  Cyborg deserves to have his own solo film instead of just being thrown into JL.

Overall, the palette of this film is quite dark and dreary.  The most obvious is when you compare Mera's hair to how it looks in Aquaman.  Even the scene of Clark standing in the field with the sun shining down felt less vibrant than it should have been because of the muted colours.

I'm okay with the whole "motherboxes were sleeping until Superman died" thing, but Darkseid just...forgot where he left the motherboxes and anti-life equation??  What???

The Ugly

Although this cut was better overall, the major failing of JL (and the DCEU in general) is still very clear.   They rushed to get their Avengers equivalent ensemble film but forgot to establish the building blocks first.  This movie basically introduced Aquaman, Flash, Cyborg, and the Martian Manhunter.  That's four new superheroes in a film already dealing with the return of Superman plotline.  Even with the extended running time, this is a terrible idea that does not translate well to a movie franchise, even if it might work in the comic format.  (I honestly forgot that the Aquaman solo movie came after JL.  The order in which they released these DC films is all over the place.)

To be honest, I still think that it was a bad idea to give Snyder Superman.  All the characters in these films keep talking about him as a beacon of hope and a source of inspiration, but I never really felt it.  Snyder's Superman is hyper-focused on Lois Lane, but doesn't seem to care much about humanity in general.  I'm wracking my brain but I can't remember any instances of genuine joy or compassion from this version of the character.  I just don't think that Snyder is capable of writing a good Superman story without turning him evil or killing him. (I'm still salty that Snyder had the Kents suggest to Clark that maybe he should hide his powers instead of using them to help people, and that Clark watched his dad die in the hurricane instead of saving him.  I much prefer the comics where Jonathan Kent died due to a heart attack, since that was a perfect way of humanizing Superman.  No matter how powerful he is, when it came to the  unexpected death of his father in this manner, he was just as vulnerable and helpless as the rest of us.) I guess I have a soft spot for the boy scout characters, and Marvel did a much better job at bringing Steve Rogers to life while keeping him true to his character.   Somehow they made me care more about Captain America than Superman in the cinematic universe, even though Superman is probably my favourite superhero.  I honestly think a lot of the fault lies with Snyder's portrayal of the character on the big screen.

It looks like Snyder's original plan is to build towards something like Injustice (which doesn't surprise me at all).  However, because his Superman is already toeing the edge of darkness, I don't think it will have nearly as much impact/contrast if he does turn evil.

Final Thoughts

This new cut of Justice League is worth watching if you are 1) a fan of the characters, 2) a fan of the genre, and 3) a fan of Snyder's directorial style.  If you don't fit into any of the categories above, you can skip this and spend four hours watching something else instead.

Maybe the biggest issue for me is that he never got me invested in his version of the characters.  I waited for years to see Superman and Batman together on the big screen.  World's Finest are some of my favourite comics to read.  What I got instead was the absolute dumpster fire that was BvS, where Bruce acted like a murderous psychopath, Clark was emotionally detached from the world, and their fight was resolved because "Martha".  While it's true that his cut of JL is better than BvS, it still wasn't enough to redeem the DCEU IMO.

To leave things on a more positive note, if you're as tired of the evil Superman/dead Superman/brooding Superman storylines as I am, might I recommend Jeff Loveness' works?  He's one of my favourite Superman writers, and when I read his stuff I always get that injection of hope that Superman is meant to inspire. Two of my favourites are "Help" (where Lex Luthor is assisted by a regular civilian when his car breaks down), and "Glasses" (where we see Superman through Lois Lane's eyes).  You can also find the scans of these stories on Tumblr if you look around.

My favourite line about Superman from Loveness' comics is, "He could be anyone...and he chooses to be kind."

I wish that we saw more of this Superman in the DCEU, because we could all use a little more kindness in our lives these days.

(And if you do prefer the darker stories, Loveness' entry for the Dark Multiverse: Death of Superman story is fantastic too.)

[sparklydreamies]

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (1) Bang Chan: Perfection

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,300+

Summary: Bang Chan can’t afford to take breaks in this industry. 

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: This is the beginning of an 8 part Stray Kids hurt/comfort series!! I hope that you will all enjoy this a lot :) also writing this sort of theme about Chan absolutely killed me because this man deserves the entire world ;-;

TW: This story contains a descriptive anxiety attack.

Through the blurry, sleepy view his eyes gave him, Bang Chan could barely make out the small, digital clock on his desk that read 3:14. He groaned softly as he resumed his work on what was soon to be Stray Kids’ next title track. 

Normally, Chan considers himself a person who is able to work fast and diligently at the same time, which often comes in handy in an industry that demands perfection. Yet, as he sat slouched in his desk chair, fiddling with his laptop to try and create a proper bass line, he began to feel pressured. 

For a producing idol, having writer’s block was a death sentence. Nothing had the power to overwhelm Chan with the heavy feeling of anxiety like a deadline for a demo due at the end of the week which has barely been started.

It’s not that the song hasn’t been started, it’s that it has been started and restarted too many times to count after Chan deemed the previous draft unacceptable. Chan’s standards for himself might seem overkill to some people, but Chan calls it being a perfectionist. 

Everyone, including Bang Chan knows that real perfection was not possible for a man to achieve, however that didn’t stop Chan from striving for it. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. Being a perfectionist meant that Chan was never finished with anything until he was one hundred percent proud of it. This demo was not an exception. 

As Chan listened to the basic beats he had recorded already, he began to drift out of consciousness. 

He had to finish the track. He was so tired. Maybe if he took a twenty minute nap he would feel better. No, he would just end up sleeping all night. Wake up. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

He was yanked out of his dreamy state by the harsh sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. He took a second to gather his surroundings before checking the text message sent to him. 

Changbinnie: Where are you?

Chan groaned. Changbin has been on his ass all week about taking care of himself as if he was made of glass. Changbin should know that this was how Chan worked. He always pushes himself to his breaking point and faces the brink of exhaustion in order to create the best music he could. There was no other way for him to make music. 

Channie: Studio

Chan cracked his back against his chair before getting back to work. It was only three in the morning, which was hardly late enough for Chan to admit defeat and give into his drooping eyelids. 

He didn’t get it. Music always came so easily to him. All of the lyrics he tried to write sounded too awkward for his liking. All of the beats were too overdone and basic. He was frustrated and tired, and far too busy to deal with Changbin’s nagging. 

Sure, Chan hasn’t been around for many meals during the past few days. Lord knows he hasn’t seen the inside of the dorm in three days straight unless it was to shower and change. Chan scoffed thinking of how he would react if it was one of the other members working to this extent. He would physically restrain them to their beds if that was necessary. He was different, though. He was the leader and the eldest. He didn’t have the time to worry about himself. He was responsible for all of their careers. He could handle a little bit of extra work. 

His hands were shaking slightly as he recorded another chord progression for the pre-chorus. At this point, Chan didn’t even know if they were shaking from exhaustion or from the sheer amount of caffeine he had coursing through his system. 

Chan let out another exasperated noise of defeat as he listened to the choppy way the verse led into the pre-chorus. He felt the frustration take right to his heart. His head was pounding, and he gripped the strands of his hair to ground himself. 

He was okay. He had pulled songs out of his ass before, he could do it now. It was going to be fine. Maybe if he added a lead-up sound into the pre-chorus, things would flow nicer. 

Why did he feel his eyes filling up with tears? He had no time to feel sorry for himself. Nothing was working out, and crying about it wouldn’t change the fact that his head was completely empty of original song ideas. 

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before focusing again on the track in front of him. 

He hadn’t even started on the lyrics. 

The sense of panic was far too strong, and his mind was screaming for him to buck up, focus harder, create something that was acceptable. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts again by the sound of his studio door opening. 

“You’re going to kill yourself, I hope you know,” Changbin said quietly as he made his way over to his usual chair beside Chan. 

Chan tried to give a somewhat interested look to the younger rapper, but all he could manage was a slight head nod. He was still focused on the colourful lines of beats and chords on his laptop. He refrained from looking directly at the younger boy, not wanting to show any signs of the intense feelings that crushed his chest. 

“Jesus christ, you actually look like shit,” Changbin grabbed Chan’s chin gently and brought his gaze towards away from the track which was causing so much grief, “why are you doing this?” Chan’s gaze remained unfocused, looking at nothing in particular.

Chan took a second to process what he was saying. Why was he doing this? Because it was his job. Because the company, the members and the fans were all waiting for him to do his job properly. 

He wanted to say all of that, but what came out from his lips was “I have to”.

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said, “I’ve been warning you about taking care of yourself-- Chan you’re shaking”. He moved to grab a hold of Chan’s trembling fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, you are a shell of yourself, and for what?” 

“For our jobs, Binnie” Chan pulled his hands away from the other boy, turning himself back towards the screen. He didn’t want the younger to see the fresh pool of salty tears threatening to fall down his cheeks without consent. 

Changbin sighed. “You’re more important than a deadline. You know that, right?” 

“What do you want me to do?” Chan asked, “I'm okay”. His voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper. 

Chan didn’t need to look over to know that Changbin was thoroughly upset. Whether it was with him or the company, Chan didn’t know. All he knew was that when something upset Changbin, the aura of the room shifted. The air felt heavy and thick. 

“I’m worried about you,” Changbin said, placing his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The older boy involuntarily flinched at the unexpected contact. “I woke up in the middle of the night to see that you aren’t in your bed again, and I just don’t know what to do anymore,”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be worried about me,” Chan swiveled in his chair to finally meet Changbin’s gaze for the first time that night, “it’s not your issue,” He was expecting frustration, anger or fury, but he was startled when all he could read in his brother’s eyes was shock and sadness.

“You don’t...” he trailed off, “you don’t sound like yourself...” Changbin slowly raised himself out of his chair. He was avoiding Chan’s eyes. 

“All you’re doing is distracting me,” Chan accused, “I can handle myself, I don’t need you worrying about me like my mother,” 

Changbin’s entire body was stiff. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but couldn’t. 

Why couldn’t he see that this was what Chan needed? Why couldn’t he see that this was best? Why did he have to stick his nose in everybody’s business like he has any say in their activities? 

“You should leave now,” Chan said coldly, “I have to get back to work,” 

Changbin hesitated for a moment, seemingly mulling over what his next words should be. 

“You’re upset that you are having trouble with a song... Big deal,” Changbin said, still quietly, but with so much more bite to his tone, which shocked Chan. “We have an entire group of kids at home who need their leader. You think that they don’t feel anxious these days? We all feel stressed, Chan” 

“Bin-” 

“These children look up to you because you’re a damn good leader,” Changbin began moving anxiously around the room, “they see their... role model throwing his health away for a song, and they think that should be the standard. It is sick, and it shouldn’t have to go that far,” 

Chan felt the pressure in his head return at the words Changbin was saying. “You don’t have any right to bring them into this--”

“You know I found out Jeongin’s been skipping meals?” Changbin’s voice was steadily rising. His face was darkening with frustration that was hidden earlier.

Chan sat in stunned silence. Jeongin has been skipping meals? For how long? Why didn’t Chan realize this before? Was he sick? Did he need a councelor? Was he self conscious? 

Before Chan got a chance to ask any of these questions, Changbin continued on his rant. 

“All of the kids are stressed because that’s what happens before a comeback! I don’t give a damn if you want to ruin yourself for your music, because I get it. I do too. But I am not going to let you create a bad example for the kids. I can’t and I won’t,” 

Chan finally found the strength in his legs to stand up and look at Changbin face to face. He could see that Changbin was furious by the fire in his eyes and the red colour that was taking over his skin. 

“You have no right how to tell me to live, you don’t know what being the leader is like!” Chan snapped, shoving his finger into Changbin’s rapidly rising and falling chest, “I am doing this for the kids, okay?” 

“If you honestly cared about them,” Changbin shoved Chan back away from him, causing the leader to stumble before gaining his balance on his desk chair, “you would make sure that they knew their health always comes first. This is a dangerous game, Chan! And sooner or later you are going to lose,”

“I think you should leave,” Chan said for the second time that night. He had enough. This was all so that Stray Kids could be the best group they can be, yet Changbin is acting like Chan is a maniac for being a perfectionist. 

Changbin was stunned. “Be that way.” he mumbled before ultimately leaving the studio. Before ultimately leaving Chan alone. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind the younger boy, Chan muffled his screams of frustration with his hands. The tears that have been on edge for a while now began streaming down his face, making tracks that felt like they burned the soft skin. 

He was mad. No, mad was an understatement. He was upset. Furious. Angry. Pissed off. Hysterical. Any of those synonyms could describe the feelings that Chan felt. His head was pounding, and the pressure was back worse than ever. 

He felt guilty because Changbin was right. He didn’t even notice that Jeongin wasn’t eating. He didn’t deserve to be a leader. He should quit. He should go to the company and tell them he failed. 

Chan began pacing around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were too small. 

His gaze fell on the small, white laptop that was causing his pain, and he felt white hot anger and frustration. With a cry of anguish, he slammed the screen shut. 

He pulled at his hair so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped from his scalp. His chest felt so tight. 

The laptop. He shut it so hard... What if he shattered the screen? With a whimper, he raised the screen up to see that it was still in good condition. The contents of the screen however, were not. 

Chan felt the air leave his lungs when he saw he got bounced out of the software. He felt like his world was crashing down around him. 

With shaky hands, he moved the mouse to open the software again. Chan prayed to whatever deity there was up there that he didn’t just lose all of the progress that he most definitely didn’t press save for. 

The one attempt of a song that Chan didn’t hate ended up deleting from his laptop, never to fully develop into a proper song. 

That was the final straw for Chan. 

All at once, it seemed like the Earth’s supply of oxygen vanished. His hands flew desperately to his hair in an attempt to pull himself out of the spiral he was in. 

He was full on sobbing, clutching his knees to his chest once his legs gave out from under him. He struggled for breath on his studio floor. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so bad. 

It felt like his body was being compressed, and he didn’t know how to save himself. He felt hopeless and weak, crying over some stupid lost progress. His world was shattering. 

Your work is gone.

Changbin hates you.

Jeongin isn’t eating because of you.

The members don’t want you as their leader.

The fans know you’re a fraud.

You’re a horrible idol.

You don’t deserve to be here.

These thoughts were ringing in Chan’s ears, bouncing around his skull. Chan cried out again, burying his face into the carpet, trying to breathe. 

He needs help, but he doesn’t deserve it. He brought this on himself, and now he’s actually compelled to inconvenience another person with this. The track was gone, his members hated him, and he was broken. 

Chan’s entire forehead was slick with sweat, and he felt his body tremble. He was a weak, worthless fool. He was clawing at any part of him that he could. He felt so weak and alone, sobbing his heart out on the floor. 

He didn’t know exactly how long he spent curled up in a ball beside his desk before he was able to calm his heart rate down enough to process thoughts. He needed someone. He needed someone badly, but the weight of shame kept him seated against the wall. 

He wanted to call Changbin and apologize so badly, but with how immature and selfish he had been acting, Chan didn’t deserve the kindness and support the younger boy would inevitably give him. The guilt of how he treated the other boy began to eat away at the shame. 

With a spinning head, Chan hoisted himself upwards enough to grab his phone from the top of his desk. The time on the screen read 4:53, and Chan desperately hoped that Changbin was still awake. 

Without hesitating enough to psyche himself out, Chan pressed the “call” icon, and waited. He tried to slow down his breathing enough so that Changbin wouldn’t know he was crying. 

“What do you want?”

Chan was startled at Changbin’s greeting, almost stuttering his response. “I... I’m sorry,” was all that Chan could manage to say. 

“You should be,” 

Chan cringed at the bitterness in the other’s voice, but remained calm. “Can you come?” Chan’s voice was shaking slightly, and there was a beat of silence from the other end of the line. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No,” Chan denied, biting down on his closed fist in a sad attempt to stifle the sounds that were threatening to escape from his throat.

“Are you okay? Fuck I was almost home, but I’m coming back, okay? Just wait for me,” 

Chan felt another set of hot tears trail down his cheeks, which sucked because he thought he didn’t have any more tears left in him. He wanted Changbin to come back to him, but not because he was afraid that Chan couldn’t handle simple emotions. “Okay,” he answered, and as soon as he felt the tightness in his throat, he hung up the call. Changbin didn’t need to hear him sob. 

Chan felt himself start to slip into his spiral again, and slapped himself in the cheeks. He needed it to ground himself. 

Just breathe. 

Chan counted all of the breaths that he took until Changbin came. He tensed up once he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and a face next to his. He was expecting Changbin to be mad, however the boy keeps surprising him. 

There were faint wrinkles of worry on Changbin’s forehead as he held a serious gaze with the blubbering boy in front of him. His touch was irritating to Chan, who shrugged the hand off his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” Changbin whispered, trying to meet Chan’s eyes. 

Chan raised his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his abused and stinging eyes. Changbin didn’t have anything to apologize for; it was Chan who was stupidly self-destructive. 

Changbin moved so that he was sitting beside Chan, his back against the studio wall. “I was too harsh. I should have been more patient, I know you’re stressed,” he sighed. Of course Changbin had to be an angel. 

“You... you were right,” Chan admitted. 

“Bang Chan? Admitting I’m right?” Changbin teased, “that’s a first,”

Chan playfully shoved Changbin, and then moved to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. The atmosphere was lighter now that Changbin was there to relieve the pain. 

“I should have been a better leader,” Chan whispered, “I’m sorry,” 

Changbin surely didn’t miss the way his voice faltered at the end of his statement. Chan felt his eyes get heavier, the post-panic attack fatigue getting to him. 

“You’re a fucking amazing leader,” Changbin replied, “I’m sorry for being harsh. Although I am not sorry about telling you off for setting a bad example because I know that you can do better,”

“’S fair,” Chan slurred. 

“Look at me,” Chan gave a half-hearted, half-interested moan, “Christopher, I said look at me,” Changbin commanded, grabbing Chan’s chin and bringing it to his face, “You are perfect.” 

Chan searched Changbin’s eyes for lies, but was met with nothing but the sincerity of a best friend. 

“You are perfection. And I know that whatever you end up doing is going to be perfect,” 

Chan smiled at his friend. Even though he could be annoying and naggy, Changbin was always there to pick him up. He was always able to wipe the dirt off of your face when you fell from the high. He didn’t pass judgments. 

Chan was stuck in his thoughts until the realization of his reality hit him like a freight train. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled his face away. 

“What?”

“The song...” he said, grasping at his desk until he was in a standing position and opening his laptop again. 

Changbin stood up too and sighed. “I thought you were going to take it easier from now on,” he whined.

“Fuck no, Changbin,” he said, tiredness still evident in his tone, “it’s gone,”

“It’s gone?” Changbin pulled his seat beside Chan, focusing on the newly opened blank track Chan started. 

Chan just nodded as he tried to remember how the song goes. Okay, it was 120bpm tempo... What were the chords that made up the verse? What was the instrument? How did the beat go? 

Chan groaned in frustration as he racked his brain. 

“We’ve done this before,” Changbin shoved Chan so that he could get a better view of the laptop. 

“Huh?” 

“You, me and Jisung,” Changbin looked concentrated, “we’ve produced songs in hours. I’m sure we could get something done if we worked together,”

Chan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “I would like that a lot,” he said gratefully. 

It was then that Chan realized that maybe some some people could be perfect after all. 

[thecardsimagine]

Update

Hey guys!

Some might have noticed that there have been some ups and downs lately on this blog, and I do want to apologize for not keeping up with my promise of writing your requests for the most part...

The truth is, I’ve been literally swamped (as in, 40+ asks) with negative kinds of requests. This is not to say that anyone of you did something wrong. You all do your best to send in requests, and you all deserve to get recognition for your comfort requests and wishes. But in the past, there would be some fluff, comfort, angst requests always varying and going hand in hand, while now I am mostly asked for comfort requests of all sorts. There are many topics ranging from death of family members/pets/the main character themselves to abuse via mobbing/family/ex-partners/etc. and many more, which I have to clarify, I am not uncomfortable with, but rather I am 1. overwhelmed with the amount (of requests and negativity) in comparison to other requests and 2. bored by them.

If you read my PSA about requesting, you might know what I mean, but basically, every comfort request is the same. I can’t just write that a character isn’t going to comfort you, even if I think a character would react this or that way, I can’t make them be mean in your request where you seek comfort specifically. Giving in and make sure everything is comforting is easily done for the first ask, but doing it over and over, it gets repetitive, unrealistic and makes me feel stuffed in a box with my creative freedom.

That is one of the problems I am facing at the moment. Sure, I do have some leftover ‘happy’ requests, but almost exclusively scenarios. Writing a scenario as I am, takes a lot of concentration and strength, and it takes it’s toll when I have to fret about words or grammar because I still get told that as a non-native speaker, I shouldn’t be writing. Even if I block and delete the anons, so you guys don’t have to face them, they are still there. Writing scenarios of 1k+ words every day because I can’t make them shorter has long begun wearing me down, so I barely have any option but to do the much shorter headcanons (around 800 words in comparison), but then I run into the dilemma of feeling bad for holding back on the scenarios too.

Since people have disregarded my rules and I’ve come to understand to just ignore them too, I know many will not care for this post either and see it as only complaining and whining. Still, I held it back for so long, that I am at a breaking point now, where I do not feel happy with the content I am creating for the blog anymore.

I thought posting a prompt list might help both of us, but in all this time, I only received 3 asks for it in total, most I did on my own, and one was sent in inspired, yet not related to the prompt list. As you can see, I have not managed to do the requested ones yet either except for one, feeling bummed out that there was little to no engagement.

Coming from all the frustration I felt because of the situation, I started to strongly seek out private projects more than this blog. However, it keeps holding me back because I will begin to feeling terrible about ignoring the requests and not giving you the content you want, even though it’s not the content I want to create. Request-Blogs come with a responsibility shared by both requester and writer, but I feel like I am fighting with this responsibility and ending up with nothing at all in the end.

I now feel more than ever that I want to do my own projects, or write about Susanne I'd rather sharing those things with you, rather than writing requests that make me feel repulsive when I just think about having to sit down and think about them.

But I can’t. Because my brain is nagging me to give you the content you actually want to see, the requests you came here for.

So I do neither, and I want to apologize for that.

My friends are telling me to take a break so I can work out this issue. I am sure they and you would want me to have the time to think and find the best solution to my problems, even if it hurts me to do so, or you will come to dislike me for not being able to keep up with your requests. Posting once a day was a dream come true, but it's now the root of my misery as I am running out of things I actually can make myself write. Even if it makes me feel worse to go on a hiatus, I am sure that the people around me can see this more clearly than I can, and they thought about what to suggest to me throughly. I sure hope you all can understand it's not your fault, but an accumulation of many factors that made me unhappy with everything.

I am trying to get better, but I hope you guys can understand my side of the problem and why I need to take a break before I might do something more drastic like abandon this blog because I can't deal with it anymore.

At last, before I will go on a hiatus, there are some cat pictures beneath the cut of the kitten we are cat-sitting at the moment to make your day. As always, you can reach me via messenger or asks if you have a question or want to talk to me!

[petersspidey]

All In A Day’s Work

Prompt: 174: “ Take off your clothes. ” 184: “ Can I touch you? ”

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been writing much. I’ve had major writers block but here we go! Finally wrote something. 

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist 

It had been weeks since you've seen anyone. You were on a mission alone. Tony rarely let the avengers do that anymore, but he knew this was something you could handle yourself. The only issue was it required a few weeks of undercover work, which wasn't really your thing.

But, the mission was done, and you were going home. You'd gotten back every last dime that was stolen, and returned it all. But something still felt off. You'd felt weird about the whole thing. You brushed it off, thinking it was just all the undercover work that had left everything stuck in your mind.

It was late at night when your flight got in. Tony said that he would still have a car waiting at the airport for you.

You were travelling back to the Avengers complex when something felt really weird. Your driver didn't seem to know where he was going.

"Excuse me, sir? I think don't think we're supposed to turn here,"

The driver pulled into an alleyway and stopped the car.

"If you reverse out and turn around, I can tell you how to get there," you insisted

The driver turned around and pointed a gun at where you were sitting in the back seat.

"That was my money. I deserve it. I want it back,"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You were tired of this mission. You were tired in general. You just wanted to get home and sleep in your own bed.

"What do you want?" you asked

"Well to start I need you to step out of the car, and then i'm going to kill you,"

You chuckled quietly, and moved to get out of the car.

He managed to get out and keep the gun pointed toward you. You moved toward him to get the gun out of his grip. Before you could get the gun from him, he shot it and hit you right in the shoulder. This only made you more angry, now you're going to have to deal with this after you deal with him. The adrenaline ran through you, barely feeling the gunshot to your shoulder. He managed to get one more out, you could feel the bullet shoot across your side. You managed to knock him to his knees, fighting over the gun. You elbowed him in the face with your good arm, and dislodged his grip on the gun.

Once you disarmed him, you ordered him to stay on his knees, and kept the gun pointed at him. "Don't bother trying anything,"

You called Maria Hill from your phone, and waited for her and the other shield agents to show up.

Luckily you were close to headquarters and they managed to get there quickly.

"Thanks, Y/N," Maria said, watching the other shield agents cuff the man.

"All in a day's work," you huffed.

"We'll give you a lift back to the compound so you can get some rest. Good work on this mission. Sorry it had to follow you home,"

You held pressure on your shoulder as your adrenaline was gone and pain began to course through your body. Another agent grabbed your bags and placed them into his car. You climbed into the seat beside him and he drove your back to the compound.

When you got out of the car, he noticed the blood dripping down your sleeve.

"Agent Y/N, are you alright?" he asked

"Fine," you grit through your teeth

He looked at you wide eyed. Obviously new to this whole Shield, and Avengers thing.

"Just help me bring my bags upstairs, please," you said.

When you stepped off the elevator into the lounge, no one was there. The dim lights turned up as you walked into the room. The shield agent left your bags near the elevator and tried coming toward you. You stood there, blood dripping from your fingerprints onto the floor.

There was a noise coming from down the hall, and you watched as Steve came around the corner.

"Hey Y/N," Steve smiled.

You didn't say anything, and held a blank expression on your face.

As he got closer, he noticed how pale you looked, and the pool of blood that had formed beside you on the floor. It began seeping under your shoes and dying the once white Converse red.

"Oh my god, Y/N," he said, rushing toward you.

He placed a hand on you, trying to see where the blood was coming from. He noticed the hole in the shoulder of your jacket.

"Were you shot?!" he exclaimed

Steve turned to the agent who was still standing behind you.

"Why are you just standing there! How did this happen?"

The agent stuttered not knowing what to say,

"Get out of here!" Steve ordered, his bellowing voice echoing throughout the complex.

The agent turned and got back on the elevator, leaving the building.

Your knees began buckling from below you. You felt like you were spinning.

"Oh god, Y/N. I don't know how much blood you've lost,"

Steve caught you as you began to fall. He picked you up, putting an arm under your legs and the other on your back for support. You rested your head on his shoulder. You could see your blood beginning to form a stain on Steve's white shirt.

He carried you into the kitchen. And sat you down on the island counter.

"Just sit here, ok," Steve said.

He walked to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit, water, and wet cloths.

You weren't super human like him. You were just human. You weren't going to heal like Steve and he knew he had to patch you up asap.

He walked back toward you and got you to take a sip of the water. You held the bottle up to your lips and took a small sip.

"Y/N, look at me,"

You moved your gaze from the floor to Steve's eyes.

"Look, i'm going to try and patch you up, ok. But I need your help to take off your clothes,"

You nodded, and allowed Steve to help you slip your jacket off your shoulders.

He saw you were wearing a long sleeve shirt, he wouldn't be able to help you like this.

"Y/N, i'm going to need to take off your shirt too,"

Steve grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began lifting it off, you cried in pain as you raised your arms for Steve to lift it off over your head.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm ok," you said softly, your voice barely there.

Steve looked at you, sitting there in only your bra. He inspected the wound on your shoulder.

"Oh thank god, the bullet went right through. Means I don't have to dig it out,"

He began to clean and patch the wound, blood still pouring out of you. You felt weak. Everything he was doing hurt. You grabbed hold of his arm and held him tight.

"Just another minute y/n, and then i'm done,"

You nodded, but kept your grip on his arm.

Steve backed away and admired his work. He noticed that you were still bleeding, and saw the other wound on your side.

He raised your arm slightly, and saw that it was only a graze, but it was still bleeding.

Once you were fixed up, Steve encouraged you to drink more water as he used a wet cloth to wipe the blood off of you.  

He wiped down your arm, and your hand. He cleaned the blood off your ribs, and the little that had gotten on your neck. A lot had spilled onto your chest from your shoulder.

Steve hesitated, "Can I touch you here?" he asked

"Yes,"

When he got your consent (IT'S IMPORTANT PEOPLE) he slowly began wiping the blood off your chest, and moved down to your breast where it had dripped into your bra.

"I got as much off as I could," he said.

"Thanks Steve,"

"How do you feel?" he asked

"Not great,"

"I'm really dizzy," you continued.

"I'll help you up to your room," Steve said.

You used your good arm to push yourself off the counter. When your feet hit the ground, you nearly lost your balance. Your head was spinning. Steve caught you. His hands were placed on each side of your bare sides.

"Thanks," you said.

Steve let go of you, and held an arm out to you, as if to use him to stabilize you.

You knew you would probably be fine, but grabbed Steve's arm anyway.

You began walking out of the kitchen, and toward your bedroom.

"What even happened, Y/N?"

"I don't know. I thought my mission was done. But I had this gut feeling something was wrong and I should have known better. One of the guys I didn't know was involved, followed me back to New York and got the best of me. Shot me twice before I could disarm him,"

"That doesn't sound like you…" Steve pointed out

"I dunno. I was tired of the mission. I missed my bed. I let my guard down because I was tired,"

"Stupid excuse, i guess," you continued.

When you got to your bedroom door, Steve opened it and led you inside.

You sat on the edge of your bed, and kicked off your shoes.

Steve stood just inside your door, awkwardly.

"Can you help me with one more thing?" you asked

"Anything,"

"If you go into my second drawer, could you just grab one of my pyjama shirts in there and help me get it on?"

Steve nodded, moving toward your dresser. He picked a shirt and brought it over to you.

You stood up, almost losing your balance again. Steve caught you once more, stabilizing you before you could fall.

"Might need to keep you around if I don't want to end up on the floor,"

Steve chuckled.

"Ok, one second," you said, turning around.

You tried to reach behind you with your arms to unclasp your bra, but your shoulder still hurt too much to move, and you had yet to master taking off a bra with one hand.

You tried again once more, but cried out in pain as a burning feeling echoed through your arm and chest.

"Let me help," Steve said he reached forward and unclasped your bra, and pushed each strap off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"I don't know if I can put this on from behind you…." Steve said.

You turned back toward him. Bare chested. You could tell he was trying not to look at your breasts.

Steve put the first sleeve of your shirt over your bad arm. You winced in pain, but kept your eyes on him. You could see him stealing a glance at you as he began helping you put the shirt over your head. You slid your other arm through the sleeve, and let your shirt fall over your body. It was too big for you and fell just past your bum.

"Thanks for all your help Steve, I appreciate it. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there to help me. Even with that agent there,"

"Yeah he really didn't seem to know what he was doing,"

"I think he's new," you and Steve smiled. You both stared at each other for a moment, before Steve broke the silence.

"Well, I should go. I'll let you get some sleep."

But he didn't move.

"Or maybe you could stay?" you suggested

"You know, make sure I don't bleed out in the middle of the night," you added

"Are you suggesting my stitching technique is flawed?" he said, jokingly.

You smiled at him, "Please stay,"

Steve nodded. You climbed into bed, and let your bad shoulder face the outside of the bed. Steve walked around and lied down beside you.

"Thanks for saving me, Steve,"

You smiled, knowing he would still be there beside you the next morning.

[superpowered-disasters]

The Sparrow Academy AU

So how do our superpowered children fall into the hands of vegetable harjeebs? Well imagine this as post season 2, except Ben is still with us as a ghost because fuck you I have a soul despite the amount of angst in this cannon. Our OCs are replacement Sparrows. This AU is a bit self indulgent, but it is very very angsty. There is a bit of hurt and comfort, but mostly just hurt lol Let’s give a summary of the characters :D

Number One - Casper: The ghost Casper’s power is to phase through anything. He can control how phased in or out he is making him either practically non existent, or like a thick fog. At 15 years old Vegetable forced him to phase out as much as he could. Even when he hit his limit Veggie forced him to go further, spread himself thinner. And when Casper stopped, too strained from the effort, he couldn’t phase back. He was completely out of energy and now roams around as a ghost. Still visible, but silent to those of the living, having to communicate with ASL [American Sign Language]. Though Casper does have some company. He’s on the same pseudo-plane of existence as ghosts. He can see, hear, and touch them. Ghosts can also hear him when he speaks.

Number Two - Zelda: The Static Sadly Zelda is one of the least developed characters. Her ability is technopathy. She can psychically control and manipulate electronics and their signals. Due to self esteem issues power related stuff she constantly wears a large TV-like helmet. It has a screen as a face which frequently displays emoticons, but can be connected to television networks.

Number Three - Daniel: The mutant Daniel’s power was once the ability to breathe underwater. When he was 7 years old Reginald sent him down to explore a wreck at the bottom of a lake. He found the mangled corpse of an old man, and parasite. Parasite latched onto Daniel, taking him as its host, but in the process stripped Danny of his power. Ever since the incident Daniel has lived with parasite in his body. Parasite can extend from Daniel’s body to create limbs, pseudo-pods, protective shields, the possibilities are endless. But parasite requires animal meat to sustain itself. Human is the most nourishing for it.

Number Four - Autumn: The Nova Autumn’s power is to harness any and all friction to form electricity. It’s stored in her body like a battery and is always constantly building up. Reggie frequently uses her like a battery for his experiments and machines. She’s had a history of anxiety and self-harm from an early age. When the energy inside her builds up it can be extremely painful causing a restless buzzing feeling.

Number Five - Jack: The Voice Jack’s power is telepathy. He has the ability to read and enter the minds of those within a 500-600 meter radius. Sometimes he just ‘hears’ people’s thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. This leads to many an awkward sputtering of, “I never said anything about that.” It’s easier for him to communicate with someone if they make skin to skin contact, but he can still create a mental link between himself and a few others without issue. Jack’s training and punishments often involve being in crowded places, hospitals, schools, or places of large distress. Regilald forces him to both try and block out every single voice, and then try and hear all of them at once, and understand what is being ‘said’. For a time Veggie also used Jack as a living baby monitor. He’d make Jack snitch on his siblings with threats of being locked in the mental hospital for hours or days. For a while Jack complied, but when after Six disappeared Reginald stopped making him do it. Also Jack is trans. poor child is afab :’)

Number Six - Six: The boy Y’all know who it is. BUT a bunch of angst writers are making this AU so the poor boy goes through even more :D Six’s power is space-time manipulation. Six is this universe’s Five Hargreeves. Six’s training is pretty much the same as his doppelganger. When Six is 13 he runs away. In about the same manner as his counterpart, but the apocalypse he arrives in is very, very different. In this universe Jack causes the apocalypse. All his pent up frustrations, anxieties, and guilt come to a head when he finds out how much his siblings truly lied to him. He has a complete meltdown and in the process scrambles the brains of humanity. Some died due to the damage, but most were left as soulless husks. Barely human lying in a vegetative state on the ground. Six arrives in the disastrous nightmare to find his siblings, alive and yet already gone. The only one that is somewhat normal is Daniel, but it’s not actually Daniel anymore. Daniel’s brain was rendered thoughtless and parasite took over the vessel. They just lost their best friend and now have to live in his husk. A couple days after Six arrived, Casper wandered back to the academy. He saw Six, but couldn’t talk to him so he followed him around. Six assumed Casper to be a hallucination, but went along with it, chatting to his not-dead brother. Six does everything he can to take care of his dying siblings, but slowly each of them starve to death within the first year. Parasite survives with Six for a while longer, but even they can’t hold on forever. Parasite dies when Six is 22. A few days after parasite’s death a commission agent offers Six a deal. Work for the commission and escape this hell. Six takes the deal and works for the commission for 14 years. All throughout his time there he worked tirelessly on his math. And then he did it! He time traveled back to March 22 2019, but landed in the courtyard in his 13 year old body. His siblings all ran to give him a hug and suffice it to say, the boy cried. A lot.

Number Seven - Sage: The prophet Sage’s power is to see into the future. She’s able to see the outcomes of situations, but only if the outcome is bad. Her training had a lot to do with premeditated events that Sage had to describe. Regineld pushed her to look farther, to see more than just a few seconds. This did work, but not without consequence. Sage has seen many gruesome events that never transpired. Many deaths narrowly avoided.  Sorry for how sloppily written this is, it’s 1am lol

[dreamcatcherjiah]

🎐Bubbles (Yoongi!Producer x Reader!Writer)

Bubbles Masterlist

Part 26

Plot: Yoongi, a famous music producer, and y/n, a writer, had been neighbors for a couple of months when Yoonji and her dad moved to the apartment in between the two. Due to some unbelievable coincidences, these two weird incompatible people were appointed baby Yoonji’s babysitters. What will they do when something happens to Yoonji’s dad and she’s left alone in the world?

Yoongi was pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the mahogany coffee table Namjoon had bought. Y/N and Yoonjinie were doing some grocery shopping for the dinner both of them were cooking for her parents. The idea was having an early lunch close to their place, go for a little walk and then Yoongi and Y/N would go back home to cook, while her parents took the little girl to the park. That was an easy plan. Easy enough at least. That was not what Yoongi was worried about. Ever since moving to the apartment five years ago, he had been so caught up in Y/N that it hadn’t even occurred to him that he could date. And before that, none of his relationships had gotten serious enough to meet the parents. And this thing with Y/N was next level serious. He had popped the question, they were parents already to a beautiful, intelligent and ever-growing little girl. Yes, they had done everything backwards, but he could see a future with them both, he could picture himself loving them forever, and being surrounded by their love. So, why was he so nervous?

The tie he had chosen that morning was suffocating, the shirt too rigid and the sock on his left foot was wrinkling. His clothes seemed totally over the top for the casual get-together that was fast approaching but he couldn’t for the life of him decide if Y/N’s dad would see this as overdoing it or as not being up to par. He stopped himself in the process of biting on another nail, too munched to be called a nail anymore, but still. If his girls didn’t arrive soon enough he felt like he was going to go positively mad.

Another thing was the issue with the parental rights. Y/N had told him that her parents weren’t really happy with the arrangement of the adoption and were worried of the situation that would arise if their relationship went down the drain and they had to fight for custody. Choosing to ignore the vacant lack of confidence his in-laws had in him not screwing up the best thing that had ever happened to him, he wouldn’t say custody was a big concern of his. Having discussed it at length in the early days of their parenthood, when their relationship was nothing more than tension and sideways glances, both parents had agreed that whatever their relationship was it would never affect their daughter. And that wouldn’t change now that they were about to become a proper family. The grandparents worries would have to be quieted, if not dismissed tonight.

What would her parents think when he introduced himself? Was he setting himself up for a disappointment in assuming that he would be able to win them over?

God, this tie was really gonna choke him.

He gave up on it, and threw it still knotted into the closet, out went the uncomfortable shoes and the wrinkly sock, replaced by a pair of neat jeans and trainers. This was Min Yoongi, not some fake rich-boy-wannabe. This was the person who proposed to Y/N, the one who intended to be the best husband and father he could possibly be. And whoever disagreed with that could very much stuff their rusty old opinions.

He hears the sound of the door opening and the beeping sound of the lock blocking again and the sweet voice of his daughter calls to him.

‘DADDY! Mommy says that if I’m good we’re going to the park!!’ An excited little thing throws herself at him and he barely manages to keep his balance and lifting Yoonji up in the air.

‘And mommy is totally right! Are you going to be so good that daddy will give you candy?’

The eyes of the little girl go as big as saucers, while Y/N’s turn to him with a judgmental look, as if saying “You’ll be the one who has to deal with her sugar rush at bedtime.” Meanwhile Yoonji is beaming up at him with the most adoring smile she can manage, worshiping Yoongi in a way that makes his heartstrings hurt every time. This little girl right here is why he keeps going.

‘That’s right, my love. You have to be on your best behaviour today, and I will take you with me to the studio on Monday. What do you say?’ He asked, putting her down, and leaving a loving kiss in the crown of her head. ‘Would you like to see uncle Hobi practice for his big show?’

‘NO!’ She shouted immediately.

‘No?’ Asked Yoongi, perplexed. What he had learned in his brief time as a father — was it going on a year now? Woah, time really does fly — was that this little girl didn’t reject any opportunity to be around her uncles. Just thinking about it, rage comes back when remembering the panic he felt that time Taehyung “kidnapped” his child. So, if she loved her uncles so much, why was she saying no to going to the studio on Monday?

‘I want to stay with you, I want to sing.’ These words just undid Yoongi. Whatever else his daughter could have said was meaningless. It had happened only one time, when she was around two years old. Both him and Y/N disliked her being on the studio because of the loud noises and the very high possibility of her getting lost, so that day was the first and only exception. Yoongi had taken her to the Genius Lab, tucked her between pillows and blankets in the sofa and let her sleep while he got some producing done for Jin. From once in a while, he would turn around, see that she was still sleeping and go back to work. He got absorbed and then felt a small tug on his sweatpants. Looking down he say a standing Yoonji, in wobbly legs, but standing nonetheless, looking at him with those big inquisitive eyes and her little mouth hanging open. Her expression of wonder had been nearly too much for Yoongi, who took her into his arms, settled her on his lap and kept working. The bass was something she proved to enjoy, clapping her hands happily when the low vibrations came from the speakers, so Yoongi would boost it or not depending on her reaction. When Jin’s voice came, she would look at him as if saying ‘UNCLE JIN!’ And he would laugh at her gaping expression and repeat the track. Little by little, he modified the song in such a way he wouldn’t have been able to do had he been alone. When he looked back at the child, she was fast asleep, holding the front of his hoodie in a tight fist and nesting her face on Yoongi’s elbow. He hadn’t even noticed the baby was asleep. That day, he realised the depth of his feeling for this small human. His life would be empty, or dreadfully boring at least if he had to go back to living without Kang Yoongi.

Looking now at her, two full years passed and still remembering that moment, almost brought tears into his eyes.

‘Then you got it, my love. On Monday, it will be daddy daughter time!! Do you like it?’ He asked the little girl, who yelled a loud ‘YEAH!!’ and left running for her room, where her toys were waiting for her to play until it was time to go for lunch.

Yoongi went to the kitchen and found Y/N putting the groceries away, and goes automatically for a hug. He turns her around and locks his arms around her.

‘We are raising the sweetest little girl.’ He hides his face on the nook of her neck. ‘She owns all my heart and I am ready to give her all, she is…’ his voice gets stuck on his throat.

‘My love, are you emotional?’ Asks Y/N, trying to give a funny turn to the moment, knowing that Yoongi shies away from really emotional situations, but this time he only nods and holds her tighter.

‘I love you.’ He says, and even though it is the first time he says it out loud to her, the words hit home truer than ever. ‘I love you both.’

When the time for lunch arrived, Yoongi wouldn’t let go of his daughter. The little girl was just too happy and you thought that was so cute. You had chosen a little Italian restaurant where the atmosphere was calm and Yoongi wouldn’t feel the hostility that would be coming from your dad. You weren’t worried about your dad giving Yoongi a really hard time. From what you had gathered last weekend, both your mom and dad were incredibly happy that you had found someone to settle down and raise your daughter. Granted, you could have raised her on your own if the situation had required it, but the fact that you were so happily in love meant the world to them so you weren’t worried at all.

When the three of you got to the restaurant, your parents were already waiting for you. Introductions were made, Yoongi being polite and respectful, shaking your father’s hand firmly and giving a sweet hug to your mother, who was a bit emotional after seeing Yoongi looking at both you and Yoonji as if you hanged the moon.

Conversation was quick and fluid, kept away from sensitive topics until your father decided to open his mouth.

‘I trust that you will ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage before putting the ring back on her finger? I can see the mark from here, son.’

The only sound that could be heard on that side of the dining room was the one your hand made when it collided with your forehead.

Tag list: @daydreamindollie @live-2-fangirl @mizz-kraziii @rjsmochii @jiminslovly @igotarmyofarohas @desteweirdo @chewymoustachio @lvnakook @sugapaste @salty-for-suga @expensive-grl @threedecadesofawkward @elegantfanshoelover @jisnuq @krystalizando @littlestsweetpea28 @chogiyeol-utopia @delilaahbards @agusttaegid @thebookishnerdsblog @kisskissshutmydoor @httppbaby @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @mabel-k3 @thenocturnalreadingotaku @midnightxxxmemories @tirednation @jayhope88 @peachesandviolets @tremendousminyoongi @super-btstrash-posts @orbitjoon @adoreguk @officiallyjyptrash @vante-visuals @taehyung-is-cute @its-yagirl-raelynn

A/n: Hello sweets!! I’m back!! I am so so happy to be able to return after almost a month!! I have tried to add you all to the taglist but some of your blogs weren’t showing up. If that is the case, send me an ask please and I’ll try to add you💜💜

I’ve missed you so much, loves and I’m so glad to be back💗💗🥺🥺

Love 💜🌙

[jeonghanniesfool]

jeonghan | a bout of tiredness

masterlist

genre: angst/fluff

pairing: jeonghan x reader

requested by: anon

words: 763

request: hi can i request angst to fluff with jeonghan🥺 maybe a fight or nightmare scenario, ty💛

A/N: I know, I know, it’s been a while since I’ve been around and I’m sure all my followers have just stopped looking around for me but hi I’m back haha. I’m going back to bullet point AUs in hopes that it will help transition me out of my intense writer’s block. I hope this is alright with everyone!!  

You never fought 

You and Jeonghan were always really good about communicating with each other and working out your differences when you had misunderstandings

why this escalated so quickly, you had no idea 

“Why are you yelling at me?? You don’t even understand how hard it is for me to have to practice all day and still come home every night with enough energy to talk to you!”

He had yelled at you in a fit of anger after you had made a passing comment about how it had been hard to work out certain things bc he was always so tired

he had been passive aggressive about his answer

leading you to snap at him out of your own tiredness

“You KNOW I’ll never understand! I’m not a kpop idol nor a celebrity! You’re away for months and I deal with it. All I’m asking for is a few moments of your full attention so WE can work out OUR issues!” 

“I’m TIRED, Y/N! Can’t this wait till morning? I literally just got home an hour ago and I just wanted to sit down and have a nice, calm, relaxing dinner without my partner trying complaining to me.”

“you don’t think I’m tired?? I work too! I don’t stay home all day! I’m also going to school! If I can put out my time and effort to talk to you, you can too!” 

Jeonghan stood up from his seat in a fit of anger and walked out of the kitchen

“I’m not going to talk to you when we’re like this. Nothing is going to work out.”

“FINE! Continue leaving in the middle of our conversations like you always do.” 

You knew it was petty

There was no reason why the both of you couldn’t work this out calmly

Perhaps it was all the pent up anger and frustration toward the time you didn’t have together

and how you had to put off so many things because of his busy schedule

you knew he was frustrated that he couldn’t spend time with you due to his schedule 

and he felt guilty that you had to have a boyfriend who couldn’t be by your side whenever you needed him

you felt guilty for yelling at him and complaining about something he was well aware of 

it had been working out despite all these issues before though

and you KNEW that the two of you could make this relationship work

it was just getting to a point where you were just so exhausted with your own lives that you could barely dedicate any energy toward each other

You sunk into your seat on the couch

you didn’t want to go back to your shared bedroom at the very moment

you needed time to calm down and so did he 

you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes

What if this was the end of your relationship?

What if, out of his guilt, Jeonghan decided that this couldn’t work out anymore and that you deserved someone who could be around more often?

You heard his footsteps down the hall from your bedroom and heard the hallway door open

You jumped from your seat and quickly threw your arms around him, trembling as you spoke

“Jeonghan, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Truly. I know that I’m a little sad you’re away so often and tired all the time, but truly it’s not enough that I don’t want you in my life anymore. Please don’t leave me.”

Startled, Jeonghan wrapped his arms around you slowly

“No... Y/N.... is that what you thought I was going to come out here and talk about?” 

Still holding each other, he slowly lowered you two to the ground so that you were sitting in each other’s arms 

“I would never leave you. Never. I know we were both just tired tonight and we said things we shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. I knew you were tired and how you were feeling and I shouldn’t have snapped back.” 

You hugged him tighter

“we should never fuel each other’s anger and give each other a chance to calm down when we’re like this, huh”

You laughed a little through your tears 

“Yes I think that’s a system that will work”

Jeonghan’s hand found your head and started stroking your hair gently

“We work well together, Y/N. We can get through this.”

“yes, I know we can” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead 

“Alright, let’s have our dinner now, alright?” 

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 35 - Concours D'arts Musicaux

Author’s Note: Here we go!!!

I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I do enjoy it a lot. Also, I'm sure you were all expecting a strong language warning, and you would be correct! 'Pissed' and 'Bitch'. Not nearly as many as you expected, huh?

Chapter Summary: The music competition. 🎉

First | Previous | Next

“You sure you want to go?” Allan asks.

“No one would be upset if you backed out,” Claude reminds her.

Marinette sighs shakily, glancing out her window towards her former school. She’d honestly been doing a lot better when it came to her classmates, but she hadn’t been back to the school itself since…

Since that day.

She massages her wrist unconsciously, thinking of the confrontation, the yelling, the fall. She still can’t really remember much past Chloe finding her in the bathroom.

Claude, Allan and Felix are in her room with her, on their way to the competition. Felix puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Marinette?”

She turns back to them, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She can do this.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m still going to go. Worst case scenario, I leave early, right?”

“Indeed,” Felix agrees.

Nodding, she leads them out of her room, and the group makes their way out of the house. They walk across the street, and stare up at the school for a moment.

Marinette walks up the stairs, taking in the sight of the main courtyard, packed with students from all over for the competition. Oh, Kwami, there’s so many people-

“Marinette?!” A quiet voice says, barely loud enough to be heard.

The three boys ready themselves to deal with more of Bustier’s class. To their surprise, Marinette quickly finds the speaker and breaks into a grin, hurrying over.

“Marc! It’s been so long! How have you been?” She’s speaking to a dark haired boy in a red hoodie. Not part of Bustier’s class.

“I-I’ve been f-fine. Art club is s-so quiet without you, everyone was s-so worried, because you just disappeared, and your c-class was awful. Nathaniel said…” he trails off, frowning.

Marinette copies him. “What happened?”

“He w-was just saying a-awful stuff, and we br-broke u-up… he wouldn’t even work with me anymore, because L-Lila said she’d get him c-connected to a real writer-”

Marinette bristles. “He did what?”

Marc shrugs helplessly, “I- I think he figured it out eventually, he’s b-been sitting away fr-from everyone now.”

“But he hasn’t spoken to you? Hasn’t apologized?”

When he doesn’t meet her eyes, she gets her answer.

“Come on, we’re going to talk to him. He has no right to treat you like that and not apologize.” Marinette leads the boy up the stairs. Claude, Felix and Allan, who had watched the entire interaction smile and follow after her.

She’s doing well so far.

They arrive outside of what must be the art room, if the inside is anything to go by. Nathaniel, who they do recognize, is sitting inside, doodling idly.

Marinette’s got that look in her eyes, as she steps inside. “Nathaniel.”

His eyes snap to her immediately, and he stares at her in shock for a little bit before speaking, “M-Marinette? Y-You’re here?!”

She just stares at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I’m so sorry! About-”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” She pushes Marc forward gently, he’s looking at the floor, “Did you really abandon him like that?”

Nathaniel fidgets in his chair, “Well, Lila a-also said-” he realizes what he’s saying, “W-wait! I meant it differently! That came out wrong! I just… I’m sorry, Marc, I didn’t think a-about anything really, and, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles.

There’s tension in the room, from the unresolved issues between the boys. Marinette knows this doesn’t involve her. She shakes her head. “I think I’ll let you two talk.”

As she walks down the hallway, Claude stays back a moment to address Nathaniel, “She may have said otherwise, but she deserves an apology. The way she was treated here was vile and inexcusable.”

Only when Nathaniel nods shakily does the actor hurry to catch up to their friends. Marinette is speaking, “I just can’t believe that Nathaniel and Marc broke up! They had a great relationship! Lila really did a number on the class.”

“Don’t give Lie-la so much credit, Dupain-Cheng. It was you,” Chloe interrupts, appearing out of nowhere.

“What?” “The morons here get akumatized so much for a reason. You were the only one who tried to actually communicate, and the class fell apart without you. Everyday Ladybug and all that. All the couples have basically broken up, with the exception of Lahiffe and Césaire, because Lahiffe has no backbone and Césaire thinks they’re the definition of a healthy relationship.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Chloe. They’re perfectly capable of sorting out their problems on their own,” Marinette argues.

Chloe scoffs, shaking her head but dropping the conversation.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Do my eyes deceive me or has the storm finally passed and our shining rainbow is back?!”

Marinette turns, sees Aurore standing a little ways down the hall, “Aurore! It’s been so long!”

She runs up to give her a hug. The taller girl rolls her eyes, “And whose fault is that?”

Marinette shrugs sheepishly, “Sorry, I-” “Not yours, little cloud! It’s that horrible hurricane that’s swept through here! She’s blocking out the sun, and that’s all we had left without you!”

“Oh, I know about that.”

At Marinette’s expression, Aurore smirks, “Ooh! There’s a storm brewing!”

The designer winks. “Perhaps.”

While the two girls chat, Chloe stands with the three boys Marinette had come with. “Marinette really downplays how many people loved her here. I’m not even sure she realizes she was pretty popular.”

Allan shrugs. “She hasn’t noticed at our school either, but she definitely is.”

“Good. She deserves people who appreciate her.”

Eventually, Aurore and Marinette part, and the group wanders away. Marinette shows them around the school as best she can. At one point, they get separated for some time and Marinette ducks into a classroom. She wanted to get out of the way of the people in the hallway to text her friends quickly. That plan is forgotten when she sees who is inside.

Lila and Alya stare at her in shock momentarily, before Lila shudders and pretends to hide behind Alya in a terrified manner. The former journalist pats her ‘friend’ comfortingly before standing and turning to Marinette.

“What are you doing here, Monsternette?”

The girl recovers from her shock and sighs sadly, “I’m here for the concert.”

Lila gasps. “I won’t let you harass my boyfriend!”

Marinette scowls, uneasiness giving way to fury. “I’m not the one harassing Adrien, and he’s not your boyfriend willingly!”

“Just because you’re some jealous creep, doesn’t mean you get to attack my bestie like that!” Alya yells.

“Oh, would you grow up?!” Marinette growls, gesturing wildly, “This isn’t some tv show where every action I take is because of some boy! Despite what you may think, I have a life outside of a romantic one!”

“Sure, so the fact that you’ve finally dropped the kicked puppy act has nothing to do with the fact that Adrien isn’t here?” Alya retorts.

Marinette stares at her. “What.”

“Please. Do you think we’re stupid? Everything you’ve ever done has been an act to gain sympathy. Thankfully, we had Lila to open up our eyes. All those times you pretended to do nice things? They were all so that we’d like you, honestly-”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying? You’re delusional! You think that was all an act? Do you think I pushed myself down the stairs and sprained my own wrist for sympathy points from a class that already hated me and a boy who wasn’t even there?!”

Alya opens her mouth to argue, but Marinette isn’t finished, “No! No! You do not get to downplay my feelings or how I was treated! Do any of you even realize how long it took me to properly heal from all that?!”

“It was just a few bruises-” “Emotionally! I didn’t even think that the people hanging out with me regularly for months even considered me their friend despite how obvious it was until I heard them call me that when they didn’t know I was around! I spent months feeling like any slip up would cause a repeat performance of what happened here! Do you have any idea how tiring that is? The effects it can have on someone?!”

Alya’s face softens, and she looks concerned for a moment. It really hadn’t occurred to her that Marinette might have been the victim. Then Lila speaks, “N-nice story, but I’m sure A-Alya won’t fall for it the way L-L-Ladybug d-did.”

Alya scowls, sympathy gone, “Of course not. Unlike anyone dense enough to like you wherever you go now-”

“I do not appreciate you insulting the entire population of the school we attend,” Felix interrupts.

Marinette turns to see Felix, Allan and Claude standing in the doorway, each of them looking beyond furious. She beams, running to give them all a tight hug.

“Now, whether or not you’ll excuse us, we have better things to do than try and carve stone with a stick,” Claude retorts as they turn away.

Down the hall a little ways, Allan is hugging Marinette tightly, and the girl is giggling slightly.

“Allan, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Still gonna’ hug you, ‘Nette. I can’t believe that of all the times you had to run int’ them it was the one time we weren’t there.”

Claude races over and joins the hug, and Felix just smiles at his friends.

When they separate, Claude looks at Marinette worriedly, “We heard some of that before we arrived. Did you really spend months thinking we didn’t consider you our friend?”

Marinette’s face colors a little and she looks away slightly, “In hindsight it was kind of dumb, but yeah. I thought you were all just being nice.”

“Nope!” Allan hugs her again, “You need more hugs.”

“For sure!” Claude agrees.

She only laughs, returning the gesture. When she’s finally freed, Felix gives her a quick one as well, having waited out the group hugs.

“Let’s not let them ruin our fun, I can keep showing you around!” Marinette suggests. The others readily agree, and they all move on. Lila and Alya aren’t their priority at the moment.

Soon enough, it’s almost time for the performance, so they go over their final preparations to reveal Lila once and for all.

“Alright, so first we show the slide with the public records proving she was in Paris when she was ‘traveling’, then her interview so that Jagged and Ali will speak up, then we can play the museum recording, and by then her mom will probably have some choice words, and by that time the police will have arrived, anything else?” “Nah, too much could over do it. We’ve got plenty more evidence if it’s needed though,” Allan says.

“Ms. Marinette! I was 87.3% certain you would show up for this event!”

The four turn to see a small robot floating nearby, “I wish to speak with you! I believe that Max is ill, as he seems to be suffering from delusions. He caught it from his classmates and I noted that you had immunity, and was wondering if you could help me!”

“You’re adorable,” Claude whispers.

“Markov!” Marinette greets the robot, “Actually, you might be able to help…”

---

The concert is over, and everyone did splendidly - to the surprise of no one at all. Allegra is back with her friends, and they’re all congratulating her.

It’s bittersweet in that Adrien can’t be with them yet.

The large projected image on the wall glitches, catching everyone’s attention. For a moment, it seems as if it goes back to normal, before it glitches again, changing to show a very different image this time.

Displayed on the wall are the dates in which Lila had supposedly been traveling with her mother. Directly next to them are public records showing her mother had been in Paris.

Some quiet murmurs begin to get around. Mostly confusion, either visitors who didn't even know of Lila, or people beginning to suspect the truth.

Next is a video, straight from the Ladyblog (someone had saved all the posts and made a site to act as an archive), of Lila claiming to know Jagged Stone and Prince Ali. This had been a ‘special feature’, a two-in-one interview of Lila talking about both of them in one clip.

“Oh yes, Jagged and I are very close. Basically best friends - well, after Ladybug of course - we first met when I saved his kitten from a runway. That’s when I got tinnitus. Anyways, I met with Prince Ali soon after because that’s actually why I’d been at the airport. Ali and I basically grew up together and I was on my way to visit.”

She continues, blabbering on about both celebrities for some time.

When it ends, there’s an outraged cry from the back, “That’s so not rock n’ roll! I’ve never met that girl, and she makes me sound like some creep! That’s defamation! Not cool!”

The crowd turns to see a fuming Jagged and Penny. Soon after, another woman stands, Prince Ali beside her, “Prince Ali would never associate with such a blatant liar. His only childhood friends are in Achu.”

The murmurs get louder, until a voice calls over the noise, “Lila Diablo Rossi, what is the meaning of this?! You haven’t been traveling, you said the school was closed! You said that Ladybug was incapable and that Paris was unsafe!”

Mrs. Rossi is fuming, trying to spot her daughter in the crowd. Everyone is furious now, because no one gets to speak about the city’s heroes like that.

Before anyone else can speak up, the screen changes again. There’s some text, with audio playing in the background.

 The following audio was recorded when Ms. Lila Rossi happened to find a former classmate at the Louvre. This classmate had always claimed Lila was lying, and Ms. Rossi drove them out of the school through intense bullying. It has been edited to keep this person anonymous.

 “-is you! Here I thought this would be a boring field trip! This is a spectacular surprise though!

“See, I told you I knew what I was doing. No one’s seen you in months and they all still  hate your guts - rightfully so of course.”

There are footsteps as the speaker approaches the phone.

“You know, they call me their everyday Ladybug now? I’m honestly insulted - not only did they give me your old dumb title, but they’re comparing me to her. They were that is, until I changed that.

“Look at you! You’re pathetic! I can’t believe I considered you a legitimate threat to me. I could have just left you be and they would have eventually left you in their own time.

“Those morons could walk in right now and would still believe me if I told them you attacked me. They just despise you that much. Not that I can blame them - you’re just so detestable.”

 There’s a stunned silence as everyone takes in what they just heard. The doors burst open, Ladybug and Chat Noir stand tall, accompanied by multiple policemen and people in suits with stern faces.

Ladybug steps forward, “Lila Rossi. You are under arrest for working with and assisting a known terrorist for your own personal gain.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“There has been plenty of circumstantial evidence, but Chat and I never had any substantial proof. Then, a civilian got footage of you capturing an akuma and using it to akumatize yourself.”

The room erupts. People are shouting and screaming, Mrs. Rossi looks shell-shocked. The crowd pushes the girl forward, and she’s fighting.

“No! You can’t do this! I have immunity!”

“No. No you don’t,” Mrs. Rossi manages.

Lila pales. “...what?”

Her mother doesn’t respond, looking faint.

“I’m Gabriel Agreste’s future daughter-in-law! There’s no way-”

Chat interrupts, “Oh yes, that. We know all about that. The deal you made? We aren’t sure of the exact details, whether you made a deal with Mr. Agreste or with Hawkmoth who went after Mr. Agreste, but we know. Adrien was forced into that relationship, so there’s probably a few more charges to add to your list since you were well aware that he didn’t like you in that way.” “Sexual harassment isn’t okay,” Ladybug chimes in, “And surely you’re aware that’s what you were doing?”

At this point people have their phones out and are recording the whole thing. One of the people with stern faces steps forward, “Mrs. Rossi, you may want to come with us.”

She nods, following the procession weakly.

Ladybug and Chat take off. Soon enough, Marinette and Adrien slip back inside, showing up behind their friends, “Look who I found!”

Adrien waves awkwardly, though no one notices as he’s crushed in a tight group hug. He laughs happily as he returns the hug, it’s good to be back.

The moment he’s released, a yellow blur nearly knocks him to the ground.

“Hey, Chlo’.”

She hides her face, and while she may be silent, he can tell she’s likely crying. After about a minute or so though, she pulls away, looking as pristine as ever.

“Well, I say we get out of this place and away from these utterly ridiculous people.”

No one argues, and they head outside, quickly heading into the bakery. Adrien is ushered inside Marinette’s room where he’s bombarded with more hugs, everyone talking at once.

After they separate, they find their own spots to sit, and Marinette turns to the model, “So, what do you want to do?”

He hesitates, unsure, “Hmm… video games?”

“Yeah!” Claude cheers.

Marinette gets the stuff out and offers a controller to Adrien. Felix opts out, and conveniently enough, Allegra and Chloe are also left to wait. The girls sit next to each other, blushing lightly and pointedly not looking at each other.

Allegra’s hand lightly moves to rest over Chloe’s. She turns to look at their hands, then back to the braided girl beside her, who is suddenly very invested in the game. Chloe smiles, turning back to the screen as well.

Neither notice Felix sneakily taking a picture and sending it to the group chat.

---

Earlier:

 Today’s the day! Alya is so excited for the competition! It’ll be fun to see Adrien perform, and maybe they can hang out afterwards. Lila has been an absolute godsend when it comes to convincing Gabriel to allow Adrien more free time.

It’s such a shame that she sprained her wrist again and can’t conduct the concert as she usually would.

Lila is nervous that all her usual bandmates wouldn’t be happy to see her, seeing as she ‘abandoned them’ so Alya is comforting her in an empty classroom.

“Lila, I promise, no one-”

The door opens.

She steps in.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Alya can only stare, unprepared for this. Some traitorous part of her is happy to see her. Missed her.

Alya is disgusted with herself.

Lila shudders, attempting to hide behind her real friend. That’s all it takes to shake Alya from her stupor, she pats Lila gently and turns to her former bestie.

“What are you doing here, Monsternette?”

She sighs. “I’m here for the concert.”

Lila gasps. “I won’t let you harass my boyfriend!”

Alya’s heart goes out to her. Even when faced with Marinette. Her love and loyalty to Adrien shows no bounds. Alya is relieved that she is beginning to make progress. When it had been several months and Lila hadn’t seemed to recover at all from Marinette’s bullying, the class feared that the damage done was irreversible.

Marinette scowls, glaring at the two, as if they were the bad guys here. “I’m not the one harassing Adrien, and he’s not your boyfriend willingly!”

Oh she did not just-

Lila’s self-esteem is bad enough, and she’s confessed to Lila that she worries people will think she’s not worthy of dating someone as great as Adrien. Alya wonders if Marineitte was the source of that, because though they haven’t seen her in a while, it certainly sounds like something she would do.

“Just because you’re some jealous creep, doesn’t mean you get to attack my bestie like that!” Alya yells.

“Oh, would you grow up?!” Marinette growls, gesturing wildly, “This isn’t some tv show where every action I take is because of some boy! Despite what you may think, I have a life outside of a romantic one!”

But there is no other explanation! Alya wants to shout. Why else would someone like Marinette bully someone like Lila?! Some part of her- some jealous part of her reached out and corrupted the rest of her, dragging that sweet girl that Alya once knew into some pit of cruelty.

Alya had been her best friend long enough to know that Marinette can go to extremes when it’s something she cares about.

Even if she shouldn’t care.

Even if it isn’t her business.

“Sure, so the fact that you’ve finally dropped the kicked puppy act has nothing to do with the fact that Adrien isn’t here?” Alya retorts.

The other girl looks at her incredulously. “What.”

“Please. Do you think we’re stupid? Everything you’ve ever done has been an act to gain sympathy.” If Alya had to tell the truth, she’d admit that she’d been… hesitant to believe at first that all of the nice things Marinette had done were just a ruse. Of course, now there’s no other explanation. People don’t just change personalities like a switch. If Lila’s testimonies were anything to go by, Marinette is not the girl they all thought she was. “Thankfully, we had Lila to open up our eyes. All those times you pretended to do nice things? They were all so that we’d like you, honestly-”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying? You’re delusional! You think that was all an act? Do you think I pushed myself down the stairs and sprained my own wrist for sympathy points from a class that already hated me and a boy who wasn’t even there?!”

She makes good points, but it’s not like Adrien wouldn’t have found out! Then he would have been hovering over ‘poor Marinette’ for being injured! Lila had explained it! It made sense!

Or did it?

Alya opens her mouth to point this out, but Marinette cuts her off, “No! No! You do not get to downplay my feelings or how I was treated! Do any of you even realize how long it took me to properly heal from all that?!”

This time Alya does get a chance to point out the inaccuracies. “It was just a few bruises-” “Emotionally!” Marinette interjects, “I didn’t even think that the people hanging out with me regularly for months even considered me their friend despite how obvious it was until I heard them call me that when they didn’t know I was around! I spent months feeling like any slip up would cause a repeat performance of what happened here! Do you have any idea how tiring that is? The effects it can have on someone?!”

Oh god. Was it possible? Had they been wrong all along?! But… then they’d… Marinette had-

Lila whimpers. “N-nice story, but I’m sure A-Alya won’t fall for it the way L-L-Ladybug d-did.”

Alya scowls. She’s disgusted with herself for almost falling for that. “Of course not. Unlike anyone dense enough to like you wherever you go now-”

“I do not appreciate you insulting the entire population of the school we attend,” A vaguely familiar blonde boy interrupts.

Marinette’s face lights up at the three boys who have occupied the doorway. She rushes to hug them, and one of them speaks.

“Now, whether or not you’ll excuse us, we have better things to do than try and carve stone with a stick.”

And then they’re gone.

---

Lila had never understood why villains in stories were described as ‘cackling’ until she’d started doing this.

The pure power she feels every time she gets her latest sheep to turn against one of their own.

The way the target she chooses looks.

Utterly broken.

Completely destroyed.

It’s sensational!

It’s marvelous and she’s completely addicted.

It had been borne of boredom, but now it’s her very lifeblood. A high that never ends.

Until it does.

She’s stricken with horror, unable to do anything but stare at the projected images on the screen.

How?!

She’s been doing this for forever, and she’d never been caught by anyone other than a few insignificant brats. They’d been dealt with.

Her own mother didn’t even know!

And now…

Everything is fast forward and everything is slow motion.

The crowd pushes her forward and she finally remembers herself.

She is Lila Rossi. She’s made of stronger stuff than this! So she fights, because that’s all she has left. Pure animal instinct to kick and scream and shout.

“No! You can’t do this! I have immunity!”

“No. No you don’t,” her mother whispers.

Lila feels her remaining spirit drain away. “...what?”

At her mother’s silence Lila pulls herself together. Fine. So no diplomatic immunity. That’s fine. She can still work without that. She’s got her will. There’s always a way out. She is better than these imbeciles! They can’t just treat her like a commoner! A nobody!

“I’m Gabriel Agreste’s future daughter-in-law! There’s no way-”

Then Chat Noir speaks and all the rest of her hope disappears. She’s lost everything.

She doesn’t bother fighting anymore, submitting to the authorities.

There’s no use anymore. This is her end.

It’s all come crashing down.

---

Alya is next to Lila when it happens. The screen glitches and changes.

Everything changes.

Lila lied, and they all turned on Marinette.

Marinette, who had done nothing.

Nothing at all to deserve this.

Marinette who had done nothing.

Nothing to get back at them for all the pain they’d caused.

She’d just left them. Slipped out of their lives, and carried away like a leaf in the wind.

She had every right to be furious with them, and instead she just walked away.

Left them.

Alya knows she should be beyond pissed, though she’s not sure if it would be for Lila, or for what they all did for Lila, or even solely for herself.

And yet…

The guilt is what hits her first, and once it digs its dark claws into the pit of her stomach that’s all she can feel. Her heart feels torn to shreds and her knees can barely support her. With the guilt comes the shame, and it’s not nearly as potent but it’s just the cherry on top.

She’s not paying attention, because nothing matters right now because good god what did they do to Marinette?!

---

In a few hours time, Marinette and her friends are all decorating cookies in the kitchen.

One drops, and it breaks apart. Claude grins, and Allegra glares at them.

“Well, I guess-”

“Don’t. You already-!”

“-that’s just the way the cookie crumbles!”

Allegra sighs defeatedly. Adrien looks up. “What do you call it when you use a deer-shaped cookie cutter?”

Allan smiles. “What?”

“A cookie doe!”

Marinette and Allegra sigh. Felix just shakes his head.

“This is really friend-chip goals, huh?”

“Claude, these are sugar cookies,” Felix remarks drily.

“Hey, why did the Oreo go to the dentist?” Adrien turns to Claude.

They feign innocence as they turn to him, “Why?”

“To get his filling replaced!”

It’s almost impressive how many puns they get through without repeating while everyone finishes the cookies.

When the cookies are done, they turn on the TV, finding a news broadcast. Nadja Chamack is turning to the camera seriously.

“Shocking news in Paris today. If you’re just tuning in, you’re going to want to stay. During a musical arts competition at Collège Françoise Dupont, it was revealed that one Lila Rossi has been actively working with Hawkmoth himself for sometime now, doing everything from akumatizing herself, to manipulating others to be prone to akumatization themselves..”

“This is called karma, bitch!” Chloe cheers from where she and Allegra are sitting together.

“Language!” Adrien calls. The blonde only sticks her tongue out defiantly.

“Ms. Rossi is being held outside of the city pending investigation, but authorities assure us that this was investigated thoroughly before they made the public arrest. Ladybug and Chat Noir themselves assisted in the investigation, revealing that Ms. Rossi’s motivation was, in part, forcing Adrien Agreste to be her boyfriend. That’s right folks, Paris’ favorite couple has been revealed to be nothing more than an abusive relationship consisting of an involuntary victimized Adrien Agreste and a teen terrorist in the making.”

Everyone cheers at that.

“The Agreste brand has issued a brief public statement saying that they are unaffiliated with Hawkmoth, and that they were unaware of Ms. Rossi’s crimes. Adrien’s location is unknown. It is assumed he is taking a break from the media spotlight, and everyone agrees that after going through what is now known to be regular sexual harassment, he certainly deserves the break. Gabriel Agreste is under public fire for how Adrien was treated and some theorize he could be a close accomplice to Hawkmoth, if not the man himself. He is not the only one under fire though, as it was revealed that Collège Françoise Dupont allowed Ms. Rossi to get away with an astonishing amount of offenses while enrolled there. She faked disabilities, missed months of school with no real proof of where she was, and even caused one of her former classmates to leave the school due to the intense bullying she received while there. Speaking both as a mother and a friend of the child’s family, I am appalled that such behavior was not only allowed, but actively encouraged. Authorities assure us that investigations are underway - both into the school and the Agrestes, but many can’t help but feel that this is not enough. No amount of investigation can undo the pain caused by this individual.”

The broadcast continues, but the group tunes it out. Marinette sighs, “She’s gone. She’s gone and she won’t be coming back!”

“Finally.” Chloe rolls her eyes.

“It is a relief,” Felix comments, “that we will not have to deal with her nonsense anymore.”

“I’m glad that those awful classmates won’t have any reason to bother you now Mari,” Allegra sighs.

“About that…” Marinette raises a finger hesitantly. Allegra and Adrien look at her, while the other boys just frown. Chloe scowls.

“Yeah, they had a run-in before the performance,” Claude sighs.

“What did they do?” The two blondes say in unison.

“Nothing really,” Marinette shrugs. Adrien disagrees, if the way he hugs her tighter is anything to go by.

“We got separated and she ran into them in a classroom. Lie-la was up to her usual tricks, and Alya was defending her from Mari,” Claude starts.

“She held her own pretty well, but we got her outta’ there once we got there.” Allan smiles at the pigtailed girl proudly.

“Then she was hugged,” Felix states a-matter-of-factly.

Claude looks at Marinette meaningfully, asking permission. She understands and nods.

They sigh, “We also found out that Marinette didn’t think we considered her a friend for a few months.”

“Apparently, we were just being nice,” Allan remarks.

Allegra squawks, turning to Marinette, who is being held even tighter by the model beside her, “I will come over there and hug the low self-esteem out of you!”

“Already on it,” Adrien says. Marinette giggles as Allegra hugs her too.

Chloe is fuming, “Ugh, I think Queen Bee should come out of retirement just so Pollen and I can sting some people. Both of those wannabe faux foxes and their lackeys.”

Allegra turns to her, though still hugging her friend, “I think Honey Bee would be perfectly willing to do that herself.”

“I don’t think Kit Mime deserves to be compared to either of them,” Allan pipes up. Claude smiles.

“No superheroes are going to do anything to anyone,” Marinette reprimands. Adrien recognizes her Ladybug Voice™.

Chloe sticks her tongue out, “You’re not the boss of me. I’m also not hearing any protests to me just beating them up without the miraculous.”

Marinette glares at her.

“I don’t think you need to do much,” Adrien interjects, “I’m sure it won’t take much convincing for Chat Noir to pay them a visit.”

“These are all wonderful ideas.” Felix nods approvingly.

Marinette sighs in defeat.

---

Adrien and Marinette wave at everyone as they go, each with their own share of cookies (Chloe with extras for Sabrina). Marinette turns to him, “When do you have to-”

His phone rings, and he sighs, “Speak of the devil.”

She waits, watching. He keeps his face impassive as he hangs up and turns to her.

“Well?” “Father says that it may be for the best to ‘hide from the media’ here if it’s alright with your parents,” he reveals, grinning cheekily once he’s finished speaking.

She hugs him, “He’s basically bribing you with a sleepover, but right now I’m just glad that you get to stay over!”

Hurrying inside, she calls to her parents, “Maman? Papa? Can Adrien stay the night?””

Sabine pokes her head out from a doorway, “Of course, dear!”

That’s all Marinette needs to hear before she leads Adrien upstairs to her room hurriedly.

“If you’re not careful, I might just think you’re excited to have me over, Princess.” He smirks.

“I am! Usually you’re stuck in my room! Not to mention that you’re finally free from her.”

“I’m with her, Kid,” Plagg mutters lazily.

“I’m so proud of both of you! Both of you went through terrible things that you didn’t deserve at all, and you made it out without even being akumatized. You deserve a break!” Tikki chirps, “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

Marinette smiles softly, petting Tikki until the Kwami smiles again, “It’s not your fault, Tikki.”

Tikki just looks at her mournfully, and the two Gods fly off to speak, giving their charges a break.

Adrien flops across Marinette, looking at her happily. She’s about to tease him when he slow blinks at her and she blushes lightly. He grins, then grins more when she returns the blink.

He snuggles against her, purring happily. She laughs, her hands finding his hair. They sit contentedly in silence for a little bit until Adrien notices Marinette drooping slightly, holding back a yawn. They’ve been sitting together for a while, his head in her lap while she scratches his scalp idly. She’s slowed, and stares forward blankly, blinking slowly every so often and seemingly just a few moments from dropping to the floor. She doesn’t realize she’s been found out yet, continuing to scratch where his cat ears would be.

He frowns, she wouldn’t normally hide being tired, unless-

“Marinette, I thought I made you promise not to overwork yourself,” he reprimands.

She flushes slightly, “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted. When was the last time you slept, and how much sleep have you been getting most nights?” He sits up, studying her.

She slumps, knowing there’s no use trying to hide it. “I technically never promised. I just wanted to make sure that this went smoothly. For your information though, I slept last night.” She sticks out her tongue at him.

“How long?”

“...four hours. Three or less for the past week and a half?”

He gives her a look, and she just grins sheepishly. Shaking his head in feigned exasperation, he scoops her up into his arms. She kicks her feet, “Hey! I don’t need to go to bed, I can just sleep in tomorrow!”

“Yes, yes you do need to sleep now. I know how awful being overworked is, but you don’t have someone making sure you have time for sleep, so I will be doing that.”

She harrumphs, wrinkling her nose.

He reaches the top of the steps to her bed, turning and flopping backwards onto the mattress. The pair bounce slightly, and Adrien lets Marinette go to allow her to get into a more comfortable position.

“Oh, so you’re planning on just watching me to make sure I sleep?” Marinette teases.

Adrien shuts his eyes. “Nope. I’m a cat, so I’ll take any o-purr-tunity I can to nap.”

He knows she rolled her eyes, even if he can’t see her. She lies down next to him, huffing so he knows just how awful he is for having the audacity to make her rest properly.

After a few minutes, he feels the mattress shift as she carefully sits up, trying to go down and presumably work on some project. His eyes fly open, and he grabs her wrist. “Excuse you, I believe you’re supposed to be sleeping. I guess we’ll be doing this the hard way then.”

Before she can protest, he pulls her arm out from under her, catching her as gravity pulls her down.

“I’m not tired.”

“That’s because you’re being a stubborn baby bug.”

She scoffs, “Alley cat!”

“And proud of it,” he murmurs, pressing his face into her hair.

He leans against her pillows, dragging her with him so that she’s farther from the edge of the loft. Nestling her head under his, she reaches her arm over to give him a sideways hug. His other arm is wrapped around her back, and he carefully undoes her loose pigtails with his fingers. She hums appreciatively.

“I’m not tired you know,” she mumbles.

He just purrs louder, holding her closer.

She yawns, “Still… not…”

She never finishes the sentence.

Adrien grins, hearing her breathing beginning to even out. He rubs soothing circles on her back, trying to get her to rest sooner. He knows he was successful when her soft breathes line up with the pattern of sleep.

It’s not long before he goes the same way.

---

Author’s Note: There's a lot happening here, where do I even begin?

Anyone curious as to Lila's middle name? It means 'devil'. Very fitting.

Don't you love it when the resident supervillain is too busy doing PR to cause anything?

Sabrina is with her father, sipping her tea and watching Lila's world burn.

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this long awaited chapter!! As I said in the beginning note, I'm not satisfied with it. Something just feels off, but who knows? I could be crazy! I hope this lived up to all the hype! 💖

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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[the-entity-down-the-street]

Flutterby, Butterfly

Hey everyone, I’m back! I took a break from tumblr for a while, and while I might post less from now on, I figured now was the time to come back. Today I have something a little different. A story I wrote about coming to terms with my gender identity! It’s framed as me having a conversation with my own soul. It’s my hope that someone who has had similar experiences might find comfort in reading it. However, trigger warning, because there is a very honest discussion about my experiences with dysphoria and body problems in general. It’s a bit graphic and anatomical. I’ll put the story under the cut so you can skip it if you prefer. For everyone else, enjoy! 

We met somewhere dark. Not dark in the physical sense. Light filtered in through the bedroom window like any normal day. Pale sunshine like pastel prison bars shone through the blinds. I’d been here for weeks. Or months. Who knew anymore?

My friends, save one, had left me for their own homes. Not that I blamed them. This was a dead town without the university’s typical buzzing student body. The lifeblood had been supped dry. Of course, it wasn’t very exciting anywhere else either. We were suffering in the world’s most mundane and boring catastrophe. Locked away in our homes, quietly terrified, numbed in our isolation. This was where we met.

I had been cleaning the gunk off my soul. What else was there to do? After peeling away the rot of old habit, scrubbing away the mold of toxic friendships, and pulling at parasitic thoughts, I thought the work was done.

And yet.

Something was off. Beneath the grime was someone I didn’t want to recognize.

“Hello again,” they said. “Are you done hiding from me?”

“You’re a side-effect,” I told them. My body issues were the last bit of junk to tackle. I thought I’d settled them as I got healthier, but isolation and recent weight gain had done me no favors.  “Once I’m back in shape, you’ll go away.”

They sauntered over to the bed and plopped down. Fresh, clean, and naked, they moved like someone who had never known restriction. “Is that so?”

“Of course. I just want to be thin.”

“And flat,” they said, gesturing to their chest. I envied their beauty. Lithe, fit, and androgynous.

I crossed my arms. “Insecurity isn’t an identity. I’ve always hated my boobs.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. They’re flabby. Gross. They don’t fit on me.”

“Would you be happier if they were perkier?”

“I mean—”

They sat up. “Or do you push them out of the way when you look in the mirror, even when you’re skinny?”

My mouth pressed into a hard line. What could I say? Countless timed I found myself squeezing them into my armpits, squishing them against my ribs, blocking them out with my hands. I measured the beauty of my naked body by how I looked without them. Even chubby I’d push them out of the way to feel better about myself. We both knew what they were trying to tell me.

“I’d like to be flat-chested. Big deal,” I said, at last. “Body preference isn’t an identity. I’m still a girl.”

“Is that why you fantasize about having a hysterectomy?”

“Hey, nobody likes their period. It’s messy. It hurts. I get bloated.”

“You get womanly,” they said.

“Ugh, don’t say it like that. That’s just weird.”

They shot me a smirk, like I’d proven their point. “Disgusting, isn’t it? You’re so uncomfortable you barely want to put your clothes on.”

I turned on my heel away from them. “Pads feel like diapers.”

“And tampons are so much worse,” they added. I agreed. That cotton between my legs made me too aware of my own body for comfort. “Remember when you were on the ring? And you could skip your period? Felt natural, didn’t it?”

“Until I got bloated and lost my sex drive.”

“Yeah, that sucked. It was like being hacked from the inside. No wonder you avoided hormonal birth control for so long.”

I had. I even tore up my womb with that copper torture device to avoid it. Part of me hoped it would perforate my walls so the doctors would have to perform a hysterectomy. That didn’t help my case, I realized.

“No, it doesn’t,” they agreed. “Getting your tubes tied was the right choice.”

The right choice. That was one way of putting it. Everyone knew I was staunchly childfree, and I was solidifying that staunchness with a snip. I told myself the two months of euphoria after was just a sense of personal accomplishment. Of freedom. Of finally having bodily autonomy.

I always got a little rush from changing my body. Haircuts, dye, new piercings, tattoos, whatever little modification I could afford to make my body feel like mine. Yet nothing compared to what that surgery did for me. It wasn’t a rush. It was an awakening. It was…

“You. You disconnected from womanhood,” they explained, moving their fingers in a snipping motion. “That’s why it felt so good. Nothing hits like gender euphoria, baby.”

“But I like girly things. Make-up. Jewelry. Pretty dresses.”

“Never said you didn’t. Style isn’t an identity.”

Oh. I faced them, defeated. “Then what is my identity? Where is it?”

They stood up and approached me. Sea green eyes saw straight into me. Because they were mine. “You’re looking at it. Where am I?”

“Inside me.”

“Exactly,” I told myself. “I’m not part of your garbage. I’m not an issue. What am I?”

“…You’re my soul.” The moment I said it, I knew it was true. I couldn’t pull or scrub or peel them away. We were the same, yet not. The disconnect between us was slight, deep only as breast tissue and muscle mass, but it was the root of most of my body issues. It was the unease of unbalance. I wasn’t myself yet.

“There you go.”

“But what does that make me? What am I, if not a woman?”

They smiled at me. A sweet, knowing smile. “If you want an honest answer, you’re the purple that falls between the pinks and blues of the world. The shade varies on the hour of course. Sometimes fuchsia, sometimes lavender, sometimes wine, but purple all the same.”

“I was asking for a label,” I said, flatly.

They shrugged. “Take a word and use it. What do you want it for? Others or yourself?’

I thought on that. The answer was both. I wanted to explain myself to others, and I wanted to define myself for myself. Androgynous felt right, but then again, so did genderfluid. Nonbinary was broad, but I kind of liked that. It was an umbrella to cover everything else. All these words were synonyms that described, to different degrees, the nuances of my soul.

“Then use all three,” they suggested. “You’re a writer. Since when do writers use just one word to describe something? Especially something so complex as a person? This gives you wiggle room when explaining it to people. If they don’t understand one, maybe they’ll understand another.”

“Yeah, I don’t think my mom knows what the fuck nonbinary means.”

“But she knows what androgynous is. She knows what feminine and masculine mean. You’ll tell her you’re the balance between them. That’s where you’re happiest,” they explained. “But in the end, no matter what label you pick, they’re all true. You know who you are.”

I did. We did. They did.

Yet I felt my world crumbling. I was sitting alone, naked as my soul, staring in the mirror at someone I wasn’t. The people who knew me didn’t know me anymore. I was an alien in my own life.

I had a sudden burning need to erase my old self completely. I wanted the person I saw inside to be who everyone else always knew, to project them onto their memories. More than anything I wanted my real body. This one had an awkward fit, like I was wearing something from several years ago, and I was squirming in it. It felt… off.

“This feels backwards,” I said. “I’m growing backwards. I’m not growing into myself. I’m cutting myself away. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Has it been comfortable cutting off old friends you’ve outgrown? Has it been comfortable to confront the toxic habits you’ve clung to?”

“No.”

“But it’s been for the best?”

“Yes.”

“Then there you go,” they said. “Sometimes metamorphosis feels like going backwards. Remember when you were little, and you called butterflies flutterbies? That’s you. Right now, you’re the flutterby. You’re dissolving in your cocoon. Do you think that’s comfortable for the butterfly?”

“No.”

“But it’s for the best?” They phrased it like a question, but I knew it wasn’t.

“…Yes.”

“Then let yourself dissolve.”

I sighed. “But then what? Who will I be without my old self?”

They smiled again. “With time, the butterfly.”

[silvermystification]

it’s my day off work and i still feel like i’m gonna cry

if you’ve come to read this you’re in for a long ride. i just need to rant/vent for some time. 

.

.

.

i just. i’ve been working retail for 8 years. and i’m so sick of it i’m trying to get out of it. it’s just raised my anxiety too much. (the current situation not helping, but i wanted to get out before this) 

and i’m trying. i’m trying so hard. i just. i’m a writer. i’m currently working on a 4 book (maybe 5) series. 

and the first book is basically done. i got a good following started on twitter. all i need now is a beta reader or two and an editor. 

but my dumb-ass brain shut down. it doesn’t like twitter. but i need twitter to promote my book. cause the writing community exists there. and they all promote each other. and if im ever gonna fucking get out of retail i need that to make sales more then my friends. 

but i don’t trust these twitter people to beta read my books. no matter how willing they sound. but i don’t have any non-bias friends. as in friends that haven’t heard me babble on and on about the books in the first place. i’ve had this character since 2008. the main character. 

i haven’t touched twitter for months now, but i can’t get the nerve to go back. the dang professionalism fakeness i have to be i hate so much. 

i’m a writer and i still can’t express how much this frustrates me. 

because i want to publish these books cause they mean a lot to me. i’m already halfway through the 1st draft of the 2nd book of the series. i love these books. 

but my dang RSD ( Rejection sensitive dysphoria ) is blocking me at every step of the way. 

but i just wanna get out of retail. do you know how hard it is to deal with Karens daily when your own brain already tells you constantly that you’re doing things wrong. that you always have to be prefect. 

but i need money to make bills. but i don’t know what else to do. writing is my only talent. job hunting gives me so much anxiety (and sets off the RSD even more) and i have only one semester of collage outside of highschool. and even if i went back to school that still means working retail while i was in school. 

quarantine was the best thing ever. it was two months away from all this. yeah a bit of stress over money. but it still was freedom from dealing with work. with a job that i hate. a job that i’ve been trying to get the manager position in so i can be in a bit more control over my day. but it’s stupid cause i know it’ll glue me to the place more. 

it’s just so stupid. it’s so stupid that i can’t bring myself to go back to twitter. apologize for being gone for so long. and simply find an editor. because i can’t find myself to trust any of these stupid ass people. but i need to do it so i can be a step closer to publishing my book. 

i hate this. i hate this so much. i can’t even enjoy my day off of work cause i’m more anxious about having to go back to work tomorrow opposed to relaxed that i don’t have to be at work right now. 

i know my voice is all over the place. i just been upset for a long time and i think it’s bubbling over again. 

i still need to talk to the girl i wanted to commission for my book cover. but since i couldn’t get over the editor hurtle i didn’t wanna bother her. 

that and i’m so worried that my description of my character is gonna be so bad that she can’t figure out how to draw my oc. and she’ll send it back and be like, sorry can’t do this.

i just have so many negative things going on in my head, my rsd is having a party. and i can’t stop it. i just want it to stop.

my life has been stupid and crazy for so long. i just want to be happy and i can’t.

like i tried drowning it with watching Achievement Hunter. my friend was even nice enough to recommend me their discord. and it’s been truely a joy joining them. but it only distracts me so much. 

not to mention i’ve been barely eating because ive been having body issues lately. i’ve beeen lightheaded at work, but i’ve been blaming it on having to wear the dang mask for 8 hours straight. (or close enough) 

and yea i know it’s protecting me, and im even more pissed at people not wearing one lately. but it makes for a good excuse when im feeling lightheaded.

i hate my brain so much. but it’s been so loud lately. just screaming at me to get things right. 

i just want to move away from this stupid city i live in. i want to be happy, no longer working retail. and my dumb brain is stopping me by yelling at me cause i can’t handle twitter. cause i can’t handle them sounding fake. and me sounding fake. 

i can’t even tell if they like me. these people aren’t my friends. i need friends to help me. 

i think. i don’t even know anymore. i had a plan and now it’s all ruined cause i can’t handle twitter. but i can’t think of a better plan.

but i need to come up with a better plan before my brain starts to tell me i need to kill myself instead.