#I would write one myself but i have zero motivation so that's a no

[arieslost]

cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

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© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

[ariicandy]

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘞𝘢𝘺 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘋𝘰𝘸𝘯…

About ; You’ve been feeling down on not being the best like your older siblings Lyney & Lynette. You always practice on how to do the trick yourself over and over again but only burdens you out to which, your dear sibling notice your change of personality

A/n ; been wanting to write something for quite some time with my super duper lack of motivation , been also feeling sad lately might as well try cheering myself up by writing my favorite siblings !! FYI : freminet is only mention, he isn’t here sorry :(

Word count : 972

Being siblings with the famous twin magicians has its funs. Like also sometimes being in their performance as an assistant and show the item they will be using is completely empty, nothing is there etc. but recently you started to practice more to be more on the stage with your older siblings and to get better as well! You would ask time to time on help to maintain that unfazed look when doing a trick to get advice on what to do. Maybe that’s the reason you’ve been feeling down and tired.

You’ve been practicing for hours trying to perfect everything for a single trick even your facial expression in the mirror to really challenge yourself, you would nonstop until it was perfect just like how Lyney does them. You sat down on the couch tired, head looking down as about to pass out of being so tired. Lyney got curious on you looking so low lately, you’ve been coming back home bit more tired and almost sad too. “[Name]! Are you alright? You’ve been looking tired and down a lot almost everyday, did something happen??” It was, to you, normal on Lyney checking up on you more whenever he saw you. While lynette and Freminet both wait til you’re both alone to see if you are possible dealing with something in secret you don’t want everyone to know. But lynette also slowly started to walk towards you with Lyney from how your state is, is it really that noticeable from how exhausted you are now? “Oh I’m fine lyney I’m just a little tired that’s all! There’s nothing to worry about..” trying to hide the tiredness in your voice you tried to imitate your normal voice but your face says it all and no point in hiding it anyways. “You sure? You look like you could pass out on the couch right now just by seeing you lending on the arm rest.” Lynette said trying to reason with your words. “Wait, [name], is it because both me and lynette haven’t been spending with you and freminet in a while because of our shows?” Well you did miss spending time with your older brother and sister, but that was not really the reason. “No no it’s not-” You got cut off by lyney hugging you saying “I’m sorry [name]!! I swear! No, I promise! I’ll make both you and freminet up for it! I’ll buy you your favorite-” “Lyney no no it’s okay that’s..not the reason..” both your brother and sister faces’ changed to a worried one from your response, did they do something they have not realized?? Were their spam on attention really went to zero with both you and freminet?!

Fidgeting with your sleeve trying to calm down your nerves, were you this nervous on wanting to be like them? Lyney & lynette could see you were nervous on saying your reason on sudden behavior, they even were scared and nervous a bit waiting, thinking they did something wrong. “[Name], if you’re not ready to say why or only want one of us we can do that and wait, we don’t want you to feel force.” Your sister tried reassuring you, but think it’s time to tell them why. “No no it’s fine sister! I was just trying to find the word to start.” Taking a deep breath to hopefully calm down, you started to tell your sister and brother your reason. “The reason I’ve been coming home tired, exhausted and sometimes sad too is cause..i was practicing tricks you guys do to perfect them and be like you. I like being on the stage with both of you, it’s like im part of the performance with you guys and not just a side assistant to show the crowd whatever you are using is really empty… I just really want to be like you two.” Tears were fighting to come out, you tried hiding your face away from your older siblings to see and scared for their reaction.

In the other hand, both your brother and sister, lyney & lynette, were shocked from why you were so tired and sad you also wanted to be on stage with them, they both had sad faces from you trying to hide your face to not cry. Tears were slowly beginning to form in lyney’s face from seeing you sad, lyney began to hug you tightly near him after a few moments which shocked you seeing your brother like this. Lynette made her way to hug you too seeing there was some space for her to sit and hug you. “[Name] it’s my fault for making yourself practice on wanting to be on stage, you impress both me, Lynette and everyone on how incredible you do them! It’s my fault for this [name], lynette has been bugging me about it because I’ve been scared something might go wrong in on of our tricker stunts. So I’ve been holding you back a lot and i knew i shouldn’t, I’m sorry i made you feel this way dear [sister/brother/sibling], can i make it up to you somehow?” You have never seen you older brother looking so low before and apologizing so much, you hugged your brother tightly. “Can..I be on stage with you guys on your next performance then??” Lynette added to your response with, “it’s only fair after making them feel this way lyney, and should be time [name] to be in our performances now since now you opened up to her why.” Lyney sighed and only nodded his head from being scolded by his sister, “Yes [name] will be us now, no need to make me feel more bad about myself now after [name] being open to us.” A small fond smile appeared on you from now finally going to perform with your older siblings.

#★☆﹒writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic genshin x reader #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #freminet x reader #lyney x sibling reader #lynette x sibling reader #freminet x sibling reader #genshin x sibling reader #genshin impact x sibling reader

[turbulentscrawl]

Identity(V) Headcanons: Naib Subedar

yall know the drill ;) If you like how I write the characters, consider sending me a request or matchup!

I also don't really have the patience to sit on my posts for a few days and check for mistakes, so forgive my typos hahah

-Naib got into his line of work out of necessity, not desire. He has never enjoyed taking lives…but he is both very good at it and very professional about it. He’s survived so long, in part, by being good at compartmentalizing his emotions. Work is work, and life outside is not, and he’s somehow managed to separate the two without separating his mental state. Nevertheless, he’s a very different person when he’s on the job and he would prefer that his loved ones didn’t see that.

-Outside of work, Naib shares Norton’s sentiments of all life being created equal. Unlike Norton, however, he uses this as a motivation to protect people rather than concern himself with revenge. That’s not to say he won’t step in if someone is out of line, but he is primarily focused on contributing good to the world in his free time.

-That said, Naib’s moral compass has become a bit warped over the years. He does his best to be a good person, but at a certain point someone can have so much blood on them that it starts to color their vision. The opposite of rose-colored glasses, if you will. He is, however, an accurate and consistent judge of character, so he often thinks about his course-of-actions in the frame of ‘would my mother be proud of me for this?’ That helps a lot with any difficult decisions.

-Naib “gets along” with most people. Being rough around the edges as he is sometimes makes it difficult for people to tell where they stand with him, but in truth he’s very vocal when he doesn’t like someone. It generally takes someone intentionally and repeatedly antagonizing him before he starts to develop a negative opinion. Otherwise, he maintains politeness.

-He is very slow to let people in, however. Naib’s life is dangerous and fleeting, so even when he likes someone he’s hesitant to get close to them. Outside of the manor, he’s a genuine slow-burn sort. A real “we’ve known one another for years and I’ve liked you for almost as long but I wont let myself have you until it’s entirely too much to take and I initiate an explosive night of passion” sort. Inside the manor, though, I think it’s more of a “we take comfort where we can get it, and then it slowly becomes real” sort of thing.

-Used to being the man of the house, Naib has a habit of trying to speak on behalf of or otherwise handle people’s problems for them. Again, he’s a good judge of character, so he’s pretty accurate in gauging how people would want situations handled…but this can still cause tension with friends and partners who are more independent. And if you talk to him about wanting to handle something yourself? There’s a non-zero chance he’ll go behind your back and take care of it anyway.

-The best love languages for Naib are Gift Giving and Words of Affirmation! He likes receiving thoughtful gifts—specifically ones that help in his everyday life, or resolve an issue he’s having. (Even if that issue is just “I’m hungry” and you pick up some of his favorite snacks.) He also likes little trinkets that he can easily carry around to remind him of the giver when he travels. Naib also tends to give kind words the benefit of the doubt, so he accepts verbal affection without argument or doubt. Everything he does is for his loved ones, and he likes to know that he’s appreciated, loved, and missed when he’s gone. Letters are amazing too; he keeps every letter and picture he receives and treats them with as much care as possible.

-Naib could not be close with someone who has a problem with his work. He understands why they would, he himself is rather tired of it.... But he’s been doing this for too long and is in too deep to leave. He and his mother cannot afford for him to quit being a mercenary and take the time to try learning some other skill that may or may not keep food on the table as consistently. You don’t have to like his work, but it can’t be something you hound him about. If you don’t talk about it, neither will he, and you can both just pretend it doesn’t happen.

-He’s a walking garbage can. I mean it, he can and will eat anything provided to him. He has preferences of course, but after years of food insecurity and then subsequent years of service-provided meals, he’s learned to not be picky. He also never outgrew the habit of rationing and hiding food in case of emergencies, and is an avid believer in the 5-second rule because he dislikes wasting food.

-Because he eats so much--and in spite of having irregular sleep patterns—Naib always has a lot of energy. This is useful for work and matches but also shows itself in other ways…such as being a very animated conversationalist. (per the stageplay lol) It’s only obvious when he’s moderately comfortable, but Naib might legitimately be incapable of sitting still when he’s not on guard.

-He’s pretty bad at making jokes. His sense of humor came from his years in the service, surrounded by brothers-in-arms. As a result, his idea of good-natured joking is completely ragging on people. Norton is the main person in the manor who gets this, but it leaves most other people to wonder if they’re actually friends or if they hate one another.

#idv x reader #identity v #naib subedar #idv mercenary #naib subedar x reader #turbulentscrawl #identity v x reader

[fangirlisms13]

Paper rings { jack champion x f!reader }

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this <3

Synopsis: Jack and you have been friends for a little over a year . Paper rings were their inside jokes, but what if it wasn't just a joke but real.

Cw: NONE 🤭🤭 just straight fluff, that's it bcs as much as I like angst I can't write it what so ever ✊️✊️

It was the scream six premiere and I was going with my life long childhood best friend jack! Everyone looked amazing but I couldn't help but feel a tad out of place! I mean these are FAMOUS people!!!!

We watched the movie, and it was so weird seeing Jack evil and also getting stabbed. We were on our way to the after party when I started messing with my small paper ring jack had made me a year ago.

" y/n meet Jack! " my friends say high off their mind. I laugh and shake his hand! " hi I'm y/n sorry about our mutual friends they take having fun all night to the literal definition! " I say as he laughs at our friends.

The moon is high. Like your friends were the night that we first met

I left a little after that and immediately searched up " jack," and what popped up was " jack champion " on Instagram and everything else. My friend follows him, so he must be the one ( a/n : hehehe t.s )

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

" What are you thinking about y/n ? " I hear devyn ask with concern in her voice. " Oh, sorry ! Nothing important, don't worry !! " I say soothing her when Jenna pipes up," probably about jAaAaAcK, " she says in a sing-song voice. " Oh shut up, Jenna," I say, defending myself. But she wasn't wrong. I wanted to he his. He's the one I want, but I don't if I'm the one he wants.

I mean, sure, we played cat and mouse for a month or two or three, but I couldn't remove the thought that you just wanted to be friends. I wish I could just be next to him all the time.

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three. Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

I just want to kiss him one two three times, but I will hold off on that till we confess. " Oh yeah, she's definitely in love with Jack," Jasmine says, breaking my thoughts that were indeed about him. " Who's in love with me?" I hear that oddly familiar voice say. I jump and give Jasmine a look . That " Shut the fuck up before I murder you " look and the girls all giggle while jack looks at me confused. " anywyas y/n I actually need to tell you something real quick! " everyone does their 2nd grade " oooohs " at this.

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night. Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright.Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life

" Okay now that we're alone I've been meaning to tell you something but I don't know how to say this so sorry if it's not the best but, I really like you and I wanted to know if you'd be willing to go out on a date and maybe perhaps be my girlfriend?" He says as fast as he could. I just squeal. Embarrassing, I know, but HELLO ??? The jack champion likes ME!!!! " Oh no, okay, I'm sorry about that -" he rambles. "Jack, just shut up and kiss me." And with that, he does :)

" is that a yes?" I laugh " jack I would marry you with paper rings of course it's a yes! "

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. You're the one I want. I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh Darling, you're the one I want

A/n : I LOOOOOVEEEE LOVEEERRR!!!! Also, I really enjoyed this one!!!!! I know it's not a lot, but I have zero motivation, so!!!

#Spotify #fluff #scream 6 spoilers #scream 6 imagines #jack champion #jack champion x reader #taylor swizzle #taylor swift #i love taylor so much

[avelera]

So I’ve gone back and I’ve been reading some Old Guard fic (as I try to get motivated to write the last damn chapter of my one damn TOG WIP finished so I can finally moved on), and I must admit, one silly and very minor pet peeve I have in some Nicky/Joe fics for the Old Guard that explore their Crusader days is the trope of having them go a really long time without being able to understand each other. Because based on Nicky’s path as a Crusader even getting to the Holy Land, and the various hints we have that Joe has a pretty worldly background, I would suggest they should have had a baseline to communicate already when they met and that bridging the gap would have gone very quickly for one or both of them once they committed to learning.

There’s a few reasons I find them going a really long time without speaking each other’s language (most likely Nicky picking up Arabic) somewhat implausible:

- First, just based on my own personal experience: I went through a full language immersion experience myself and yes it was painful and yes, having textbooks and classes certainly helped, but all told it was 3-4 months from almost zero before I could start doing normal things for my age group like read simple books and do homework. However, the most effective language learning program in the country, Middlebury, does a full immersion program that gets people to baseline functionality in 6 weeks. Yes, learning a language is hard and I will be the first to say that mastery takes years and mastery without immersion is nearly impossible, but if you’re completely immersed there, without options, it goes much faster. You won’t be fluent of course but you will be conversational. Also, by all accounts, being illiterate or otherwise not bothering to learn how to read and write at the same time and ONLY going for verbal communication actually makes things go even faster.

- People who pick up by speaking (rather than reading and writing) and people who speak multiple languages already tend to pick up other languages even more quickly. Once you learn one or two, a lot of polyglots don’t stop there. There is that old joke: the word for speaking three languages is trilingual, two languages is bilingual, and speaking only one language is American. Which is to say I think native English speaking writers might be the ones underestimating how quickly a language can be learned (at least to a conversational level).

- Now throw in the fact that both Nicky and Joe have been recently in multilingual societies or organizations as a requirement of their meeting during the First Crusade, no matter how you slice it. Either as both coming from a merchant trading backgrounds traveling across international (so to speak) lands, or Nicky being part of the pan-European Christian army where multiple languages would be spoken across the camp, to him possibly having a priest background which would mean Latin as well. Not to mention Greek if Nicky picked up anything while in Constantinople (if he came over land). Nicky also would have been on the road to the Holy Land, if he went overland, for as long as 3 years and in Antioch before Jerusalem.

- Now, as an admitted caveat to all of this, I’ve lived overseas and it is absolutely common for expats to live in a country for years without bothering to pick up the local language at all. There were cultural and societal reasons that European Crusaders and the Egyptian Fatimids who lost Jerusalem wouldn’t bother to learn each other’s languages or any of the common merchants tongue or other common languages like Greek to bother to talk to each other. That’s absolutely fair to invoke for why they wouldn’t have a single word of any language in common.

- However, I will say, once both or either of them decided to try, I think some writers don’t give enough credit for how quickly one or the other would pick a language up, especially if it’s the language of the country they’re in (basically, I think once he tried, Nicky would pick up Arabic very quickly if he’s still in the Holy Land by the time he and Joe start trying to communicate). Effort plus full immersion is probably the single fastest way to learn a language, you’d be able to have rudimentary conversations within a few months at most. Really from there it’s just a question of whose country are they in once they start talking and stop trying to kill each other.

TL;DR I will be the first to say an author should go with what makes their story work best BUT there’s plenty of historically backed reasons why Nicky and Joe should have been able to carry on a basic conversation with each other from when they first met, and not be completely stymied in communicating with each other because of a language barrier.

#the old guard #tog meta #kaysanova #tog fic

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Welcome to Heaven

Coming back I found I did enjoy the last episode far more than I did the others. It obviously suffers from who the director is, but I could still see the more competent writer underneath certain portions of the episode. This one is written by Adam Stein who was credited for six episodes of Harley Quinn, a series I admittedly do not particularly care for. I wouldn’t consider the series bad and I enjoy scenes more than the whole, but its clear that Hazbin and much of Medrano’s writing ideas are in many ways ripped off from Harley Quinn far more than Bojack Horseman. To be frank, if Medrano had stuck her comparison to Harley Quinn, I doubt she would be criticized nearly as much as she is for her writing. I know, for myself, if she had compared her shows to Harley Quinn and never once breathed in the direction of Bojack Horseman, I wouldn’t have ever been motivated to even criticize this series. I think a comparison to Harley Quinn is fair, it is an objectively worse version of Harley Quinn, but it is better suited to the style and audience of that show far and above something of high art and value like Bojack. Harley Quinn is simply not my tastes, I wouldn’t say it’s bad, but even with a gun to my head I could never in good faith consider it good. It’s better than Hazbin and Helluva Boss, but its also a fairer comparison.

Vaggie adds “gah” to her line about being a liar in the most painful way. While they obviously paid Stephanie the most, they in no way paid her enough to care. It was physically written into the script and it highlights how little the actress actively participated in the series. She didn’t even try to make it sound natural, she doesn’t care for the character she is playing and she doesn’t care whether or not we know.

It makes no sense that Angel Dust is still working for Valentino. He could just stay in the hotel and ignore Val’s calls and texts like we have actively seen him do. So it’s like he hates working for Val, does so under duress and due to a contract on his soul, but Charlie is the princess of Hell whom Valentino openly stated he was threatened by and her hotel and patrons are under the protection of Lucifer who aligned himself with Charlie and her goals…. Just don’t go? There is Vaggie, Charlie, Lucifer and even Alastor who are more than capable of handling someone like Valentino on their own, let alone as a united front. Why is this still happening?

The physical comedy falls flat. Cheri grabs Sir Pentious’ hand and it cracks and is all mangled like it is broken, but he has zero response to it. The humor requires there to be a reaction to the level of violence displayed. Having not even a minor one means the sequence may as well not have happened, and it frankly feels like an excuse to just say Alex Brightman was in the episode and have him say as many lines as possible regardless of whether or not he should. I genuinely don’t understand why this character is even in Hell. Who is he as a person? Just why?

Sera says she only green-lit the exterminations so that Hell didn’t act up, and places the blame on Adam for Lucifer getting involved. But then she just… keeps letting Adam do what he’s doing, which is what caused her to feel threatened like this in the first place. So essentially “This is all your fault because of the things you’ve done. So keep doing them.” I don’t even get why Sera or any of Heaven feels this way about Hell. I assume Sera knows Charlie’s plans about redemption, but she seems threatened by it? When in reality treating Heaven like a prize for sinners seems like a logical way of cooperating with Hell and even maintaining civil relations.

Also, can I just point out how the character designs really fail to send any sort of message. Alastor, Niffty, Velvette, Carmella and her daughters, Rosie, and Mimzy are hyper humanoid demons in a Hell where non-human designs make up a majority of the cast and the distorted, abstract and animalistic designs in Hell make sense, whereas Heaven is mostly humanoid with random demonic designs walking around. It fails to send a message as well as just makes Heaven and Hell entirely the same. It fails to really sell the idea that Heaven is in any way better than Hell. Honestly, demons should have less human designs and appear more twisted and deformed. Heaven should have prioritized humanoid figures. Especially seeing as Medrano with a heritage in Latin America and Catholicism would know that the idea of Christianity she is supposedly criticizing emphasizes that humans were made “in the image” of god and angels. It also sets up an idea of one’s soul being cleansed by having this “godly” form. Mixing in furry designs at the same rate as Hell collapses any argument for media literacy or messaging being made.

Welcome to Heaven as a song is the best song of the show thus so far. It is the One Short Day of Hazbin, a vapid superficial scene-setting song that isn’t meant to further the characters, just the plot, and it actually succeeds. I’m not amazed by it, never would i play it for enjoyment reasons, but it works for the role it plays and is the only song that does so well.

Adam is telling Vaggie her own backstory, my favorite bad writing trope.

Additionally, I thought heavenly weapons were the only thing that could harm an angel. But Lute just rips off Vaggie’s wings with her bare hands. It really confuses the world when you don’t even keep to your own rules.

In the previous episode, Charlie says the hotel isn’t “working”, this episode has Adam demanding “evidence”. The lack of understanding what Charlie is looking for when she says Progress is never defined. On one hand she says Angel Dust is making progress, but just the last episode said that the hotel wasn’t actually helping anyone. Even at the start of the episode we don’t see any change in Angel Dust, just that he’s sad. He still swears performs sex work, is rude and crude, and at no point has his situation with drug addiction been addressed in any way. I can appreciate not wishing to say someone performing sex work is committing sin. As well as the implication that how one holds themself is unimportant to Heaven. But I think everyone can agree that drug addiction and abuse is harmful to those in the addiction and those who care for them. And also, it is extremely difficult to break. Drug addiction would be an excellent analogy for sin and breaking it would work as a parallel for redemption easily. So why is it the one thing you had going for you in way of themes and a show of progress and character growth we’ve never actually even addressed. In fact, Loser Baby enables the idea that Angel Dust’s use of drugs is fine because he’s a loser anyway. Just give up on yourself. So when this episode inevitably implies that Angel has actually been making progress on that front, it’ll make no sense.

That happened a whole lot sooner than I thought it would. And it being Husk saying he thought Angel was “Better than that” really does make his whole message in Loser Baby hypocritical. Him being the one to judge others on how they cope, offloading his hypocrisy on the excuse “I’m not trying to get to heaven”, but then still performs the emotionally abusive tactic of publicly and maliciously shaming is partner into a form of compliance. And this is the romantic relationship I’m supposed to be going nuts over? Even in the case where one can argue he is doing it from a place of concern, he has never once cared about Angel’s drug use in the series. It has never been mentioned in any detail of it being harmful. It is literally placed on the same level as his hypersexuality in the song Loser Baby, which we are supposed to wave away as not being harmful because he enjoys it. The line is he “samples” every sex toy and drug. This is just the Alastor must be lying because nothing makes sense argument, except its the world that doesn’t make sense and thus nothing can be trusted and the suspension of disbelief and the act of world building is inherently gone. This isn’t even a story at this point. It is merely a bunch of drawings doing things for nearly half an hour because time is money, and Medrano likes money.

I feel the setup isn’t too bad. It’s the story of Job, which, yes, you should use the material you are criticizing if you are actually seeking to criticize it (whether or not Medrano’s is even attempting a critique on Christianity is hugely up to debate, but that’s not for this kind of post). It’s Lucifer in the Bible coming to the court of god and saying he’s been on earth observing the humans. He claims humans would never worship god if not for god incentivizing them through blessings and so god is like, “bet, do your worst”. Except, in the Bible story it shows god’s callousness. He allows Job to suffer and gives permission to Lucifer to torture this faithful man, of which when Job laments, god chastises him for doubting. This removes the negative qualities of god from the story by just watching Angel Dust make his own decisions. Which works for the idea of free will, I suppose, but the idea of free will being imagination from the last episode to now just waiting for Angel Dust to choose to conform to an idea of morals takes away any meta critique on the nature of heaven. Just saying.

Still not a fan of how infantilized the show makes Niffty.

The scene with Angel standing up to Valentino was such an attempt at an emotional reaction, and in reality it only succeeds in tiptoeing the edge of emotional catharsis. It never gets to reach that point because we don’t actually see the way that Val and Angel interact most of the time. And I’ll just say it, the Poison sequence ruins this scene. It set up this idea that Angel Dust has complicated feelings for Valentino and in many ways their relationship is just as much an addiction as the drugs. But we never see the harmful side to Angel’s drug addiction and nor do we see his complicated feelings for Val break down as he grows closer to Husk. It is unearned. And then having Charlie point blank say why that scene exists for the narrative kills any and all investment. It was there just so Angel Dust can fit Adam’s checklist. So there is no authentic emotions attached to that scene from the ground up. It is a contrivance that feels almost hateful in its existence.

Why is Adam treated as Sera? Adam was the one who made the list, but Emily contributes it to Sera. Sera didn’t even know how a soul ends up in heaven, all she says is “he was the first human soul here”, meaning she defers to him to understand. To have her be the one saying not everything is written in ink, when she openly is the first one to say she hasn’t any idea, really confuses the lack of story you are trying to tell.

So, the whole series has now confirmed it has no clue how to tell a story. “If Hell is forever then Heaven must be a lie”, so the idea of moving between heaven and hell is not a concept. Someone from heaven cannot fall to hell and someone from hell cannot enter heaven, except they can. Vaggie. Her entire existence is proof that heaven isn’t forever, so why would Hell be? If anything, Vaggie should be a spark of hope for Charlie. Additionally, the threshold of whether souls can be redeemed has nothing to do with if they can or not. Rather, it ends the same way it began. No one is in control and no one has any power one way or the other. But Vaggie being in hell, despite being an angel, who was never held in a court to determine if she should fall or not and was deemed unholy by humans, not the council of angels, just brought this whole house of cards down. In fact, the person on trial should have been Vaggie, and in extension Lute. Who is Lute to have the right to make such a call compared to Emily? Why does no one bring up this discrepancy? And having Vaggie on trial instead of an ignorant Angel Dust being critiqued without his knowledge would have been a better vehicle for not just exploring Vaggie’s past, but also the ideas surrounding redemption and banishment and the values/hypocrisy of heaven. As it stands, this episode was a waste of everyone’s time.

Adam Stein brought nothing to the table, all the same issues in Medrano’s writing are present and played out here. Adam may as well be a ghost writer as he didn’t even attempt to bring any of his own strengths to the script. I can’t say I’m surprised at this, however. It is just Harley Quinn after all.

2/10

#vivziepop critical #vivienne medrano #vivziepop #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop criticism #spindlehorse criticism #hazbin critique #hazbin hotel liveblog #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel #hazbin criticism #adam stein #harley quinn

[smfolklore]

Ignorance

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Author's Note : Okay she's here! This is 2.5K, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave me your thoughts, if you'd be so kind. I'm so happy that you all liked the first story I wrote. It motivated me to write this!

Synopsis : Y/N goes to Uriah's dormitory and gets incredibly tipsy (she's obliterated). Her instructor discovers this and is snarky with her because he's jealous.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Present Time

My head is fucking pounding. I can hear only the persistent throbbing echoing throughout my brain. But it's what I deserve.

Uriah invited me to a “small” gathering happening among him and his two fellow Dauntless-Born companions. What I didn’t expect was the mass amount of alcohol that we were going to consume that night.

But I didn’t exactly say no. 

I will never deny an opportunity to have fun. When I lived with the Abnegation, there was zero tolerance for fun. It’s the one regulation I will never miss. There were aspects that I loved, like the simplicity and generosity of the people, but the negative aspect of this faction is that they were far too rigid.

In that, Dauntless is the complete opposite. And it’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with how at ease life is here. There are zero regulations (which is.. concerning), but to me that only indicates freedom.

Which is why last night, I drank. I consumed every shot that was handed to me, which if I remember correctly was eight. I’d never drank an ounce of alcohol before yesterday, which should have steered me into complacency but it didn’t.

–––

Uriah’s Dormitory - The Day Before

My face is slightly red as I feel the warmth of the liquor pulsing through me, and I’m trying desperately to contain the giggle slipping by.

We’re in Uriah’s dormitory. There’s six of us: Myself, Uriah, Lynn, Christina, Marlene, and Will. Christina and Will are desperately attempting to sing a chosen song, a microphone in each hand and while everyone is laughing and enjoying the euphoric sensation rolling through them, I feel the entire weight of my figure get heavy.

Uriah laughs at my expression, “Are you okay!”

And before I can even respond, I’m shaking my head with an erupting laugh, “No! No! I can’t stop laughing”.

I feel Uriah plop beside me, and I let my back hit the mattress as I see him lay across it. We’re a chaotic mess of laughing and bloodshot eyes. I blink at him slowly and see the lazy grin on his face.

“I am so fucking drunk right now”.

His grin stretches, “I feel complete. I’ve managed to intoxicate a girl from Abnegation. I never thought I would see the day”.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and let out a laugh as I say, “This is the first and the last time. I swear it”.

I don’t, actually.

I’m having far too much fun. Christina and Will are doing Karaoke, Lynn and Marlene are holding onto each-other for balance as they laugh so hard that they’re wheezing, and Uriah and I are laying across his mattress trying to gather our bearing’s. 

I can do this for the rest of my life. This faction is so liberating in spite of its faults.

Before I’m able to register it, Uriah is gripping onto my two wrists and using them as leverage to pull me upright. I’m still a pile of limbs, my body incoherent almost, but I grin as I see him pulling me to my feet.

Once I’m standing I hear a quick, “Our turn!” and my eyes widen dramatically. I can’t sing.

“No, Uriah! I can’t!”

But he’s smiling and I relent as he directs us to the stand that’s hosting the microphones. I pick one up, and as soon as I recognize the song that’s playing I turn to Uriah excitedly and exclaim, “How do you know this song!”

–––

Present Time

When I manage to open my eyes, I’m groggy. Beside me is Uriah, and beside him is Lynn as well as Marlene. We all fell asleep at his dormitory. I use the knuckle of my finger to get completely free of the drowsiness that is looming over me.

I groan as I force myself to sit up. I push myself toward the opposite side of the mattress, softly tying my laces and straightening my clothing. I laugh a little when I see Christina and Will on the couch beside the microphone post. Regardless of how close they’ve managed to become, they swear that they aren’t romantic. Yeah right.

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at 4 in the morning given my training session with Four. In spite of the fact that the first stage is complete, he’s prolonged our training. I didn’t ask him, he simply did. I’d expected him to stop the session, but he never opened the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to propose it.

I enjoyed our time together.

In the last six week’s, Four and I have built upon our relationship. Our dynamic is.. fairly complicated. There are moments where I feel the tension dissipate and it often indicates the beginning of a friendship, but then he can quickly revert to the distant instructor I see so often.

I can admit that it hurts. I don’t know where I stand when I’m with him and it’s by far the most confusing relationship I’ve ever had. He’s gentle and patient one moment, and the next he’s curt and stern.

This pattern of inconsistency is only intensifying my doubt. I have no clue as to whether or not he thinks I’m attractive. Or if he even likes me. And it’s only served to irritate me. When I see him, I remain indifferent. 

It’s for the absolute best is what I tell myself. He’s clearly not interested in me. He had six entire week’s to give me even an inkling that he likes me, and he hasn’t. I can’t help the disappointment that I feel, I’d thought given the tension within our first session that there was more, but I can’t force him to find me appealing, can I?

I make my way into Uriah’s restroom, searching through the cabinet until I find what I was in need of. A new toothbrush. There’s no way I’m going to train with my insanely hot instructor without brushing my teeth. It’s like asking him to stop training me, when in reality I want to improve. I want to succeed here.

I wash my face, and even manage to brush my hair with a new comb I found stashed beside his toothbrush. I slip out of his dormitory as quietly as I can manage, trying to let them rest. I can’t have them discovering where I go so early in the morning. It wasn’t explicitly said that my training with Four is going against a protocol, but I don’t want to involve him if it is. So I maintain this secret for myself.

It’s 4:47 when I stroll into the training center, and I thank myself internally when I see that I’m alone. He isn’t here yet. I go toward the fountain, and sip on the fresh water pouring through as I wait for him to arrive.

I walk onto the platform, and begin to stretch softly, knowing that I’ll love the open range of motion it’ll give me when I’m fighting against Four. He doesn’t train me easily, not like he started throughout our first session. I’ve landed on my spine so many times, albeit softly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he is rough enough to get his lesson through. 

I have my arm in front of me as I do a stretch when I hear the unmistakable latch of the front door. I peer over my shoulder and see the set of his face; cold.

He isn’t happy.

I carefully watch as he steps onto the platform and before I can register it I’m blurting out, “Nice night?”, with the intention of lightening the atmosphere.

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even meet my eye when he curtly says, “For some”.

This has my eyes widening slightly, as I’m a bit stunned. His body language is telling me that, unfortunately, he was not as fortunate. He’s tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are prominent. I put my arm down from my stretch and tilt my head, as I mutter to myself, “Okay, then”.

My attention snaps to him when I hear him say in an almost dull tone, “You look exhausted”. I frown wondering why he would point that out, but regardless I respond reluctantly, “We went to Uriah’s dormitory last night”.

All I get in response is an indifferent, “We?”. He’s not even looking at me, which confuses me. He’s untying his laces in order to get into position. Why is he being so adamant on evading me?

I shift from one foot to the other, ease in my voice, “Yep. Uriah, Will, Christina, Marlene, and Lynn. We were.. just learning how to play a card game”. It’s silly to not be honest about this but I don’t know if telling your initiation instructor that you got obliterated the night before is appropriate.

He meets my eye. Finally, but he’s looking at me without amusement as he fires in response, “Guzzling alcohol must be synonymous with learning a card game”.

I’m astounded by how affected he is at learning that his initiates are drinking. It’s entirely normal, but it’s not like I’m going to advertise it too. I furrow my eyebrow at the bite in his tone and feel irritation bubbling within me.

“How do you know what we were doing?”, I respond indignantly.

I watch as his shoulders tense, and it would have been entirely unrecognizable if not for the fact that I’m constantly observing him. I can’t help it, I want to understand him. How he thinks, what he’s feeling, and it goes beyond attraction. There’s a magnetic pull that I feel when I’m with him. 

He’s seamless in his response, “It isn’t exactly difficult to figure out. You're pale and dehydrated”.

I tilt my head and slightly narrow my vision, “There’s no way for you to know that I’m dehydrated, Four”. I’ve caught him; he’s a liar. I stare at him intently as I analyze his carefully crafted expression. I think about last night, attempting to recall a memory that could help me decipher how he’s in the loop of what I did in Uriah’s dormitory. 

And I do. 

It was Zeke. He came to Uriah’s dormitory to tell him about a family dinner.. and in return he helped us all consume as much water as possible. And he forced us all to swallow an Acetaminophen Tablet to prevent the headache that all of us would surely have the following morning.

He must’ve told Four when he left. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s the only possibility that I can think of. Zeke and Four have a friendship and because of that Four is going to hear about Uriah’s antics. Zeke likely mentioned to Four that his entire group of initiates is going to be fucking hungover for the session today.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

Four doesn’t react, simply getting into position and motioning for me to replicate it. But I don’t. I glance at the clock and read the time as 4:54, muttering, “It’s not 5 o'clock yet. We have time”. 

–––

Four’s Point of View

I narrow my gaze at her and try to prevent my body language from giving away just how much irritation is coursing through me.

I’ve felt this gnawing sense of discomfort fill me since the moment Zeke entered my apartment last night, divulging how Uriah and three of my initiates are getting “hammered” in his dormitory.

It isn’t the alcohol that has me tensing my shoulders, or narrowing my gaze at her, it's the disturbing thought that she was with him. I’ve noticed how close they’ve become.. they eat together, I see them in the pit together, and apparently Zeke placed her to sleep beside Uriah last night as well. Granted there were two extra people on the mattress with them.

In spite of the fact that logically, I’m aware nothing could have occurred, there’s a persistent ache of discomfort in my chest that I can’t identify properly. This can’t be jealousy. I can’t like her.

And yet, when I flick my gaze to her, and locate the determination in her eyes to find out what I’m hiding, I find my throat going dry in appeal. 

“I didn’t agree to having a conversation with you, I agreed to train you so that you can improve your fighting” I respond curtly.

There’s a flicker of hurt that catches on her expression and it immediately has me wanting to retract my response. But I don’t, because I can’t. If I tell her the truth, about what I know, I’ll have to explain why I’ve reacted the way that I have. And that will open a conversation that can’t be opened until she isn’t my initiate. Until I can tell her how I feel without putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to return my affection.

It isn’t fair to her. And if I’m going to pursue this.. It has to be done correctly.

So I persist, “Position yourself”.

But she doesn’t. She’s hesitating, and it frustrates me. She grits out in irritation, “Tell me how you know what we were doing”.

I’m almost stunned by the way she’s spoken to me. Y/N has always maintained that line of respect even through the telling of a joke, or when we’re in a session. But now she’s wary, and she’s considering the truth as a possibility; that I like her. 

The thought that Y/N might discover my affection for her has reverted me to the default personality that I’ve adopted since the moment that I chose this faction; cold. I cannot let her figure it out before she’s designated an official member.

I pause, tilting my head in an almost sadistic way as I stalk toward her as intimidatingly as I can. My demeanor is insulting, and I’m aware that the next thing I say may ruin the small connection that we’ve developed. But what choice do I have?

“I advise that you learn how to address your superior. I only agreed to this to help you learn how to fight. If you aren’t going to comply, then get out”, his tone is menacingly calm, but there is an undercurrent of condescension. He’s speaking to her in a manner that would resemble a conversation he’s having with an imbecile.

And it’s enough to hurt her feelings. He sees the flicker of emotion on her face before she decidedly takes a step away from him. 

Her expression is masked, a glimpse of nothing. “Fine”, she mutters, voice indifferent. Her expression is blank when she glances away from him. And it’s blank as she laces her shoes. And when I hear the latch of the steel entryway, I groan as I come to terms with the fact that I’ve only pushed her further into the arm’s of Uriah, and directly away from me. She’s going to hate me. I watched the hurt consume her, and then I watched her mask it with the ease only a person from Abnegation can adopt. I wonder if she’ll come back tomorrow.

#dauntless #divergent #four #tobias eaton #tobias eaton x reader #writing #instructortobias #amity #tobias eaton writing #candor #tobias eaton x y/n #writingfordivergent

[ae-neon]

Okay I'm rereading some beginning chapters of acotar and Feyre says Alis and the two other servants look human/high fae. Like humans with pointed ears. Specifically described Alis as a brown haired woman.

It's probably the glamour, but a very interesting take on it.

Also Tamlin "plops" down into his chair as a horse sized beast AND THEN shifts back to high fae form??? 😭 Sarah what are you talking about?

Credit tho, this is probably the best Feyre is written. Smart, observant, thinking - still panicked but not making stupid mistakes. And kinda funny, she thinks Tamlin is wearing the mask in solidarity with Lucien since Lucien probably wants to hide his scar.

Lucien is a bit weird? In retrospect, he knows about the curse, about the sentries going despite Tamlin's reluctance but he's acting like Tamlin traded Andras's life for Feyre's?

Also sjm's manipulative writing. At no point has Tamlin done anything to save Feyre or earn her trust but she mentally starts switching from captor to saviour out of nowhere. It's only chapter 5 or 6. Be serious. She hasn't even been there a day and she's saying the humans were wrong about Prythian.

Alis and the other two servants cut Feyre's hair, why? Also Alis telling Feyre to take Lucien down a peg lol.

Alis says Feyre will be safe at the mercy of their master and just before she left the dining room Feyre saw Lucien bow to Tamlin as well as be talked down from throwing Feyre out. How does she not know he's the High Lord?

Lucien to Tamlin: you have zero rizz, my boy

Also Lucien: "we're not going to bite." Teeth gleaming in a way that suggested otherwise. Cassian stole this man's whole flow 🙄

Not Tamlin saying it's an honour for a human to be served by a High Fae, stfu.

“You look … better than before.”

Was that a compliment? I could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod.

“And your hair is … clean.”

HAHAHAHA

(Lucien muttered, “So typically human.”) racism.

Lucien was seriously upset about Andras. That hurts.

Tamlin immediately assures Feyre that he's helped her family with income. It's chapter 7. The tension is sucked out of the situation and Feyre's motivation to leave is nullified by the author. That's kinda bad writing. Narratively it makes sense for Tamlin to use this against her trying to escape tho.

Tamlin has magic ropes? Hands? That can just hold Feyre in place?

Feyre: he's lying. Also Feyre: faeries can't lie.

“Why be so generous?” Lucien gave me a look that suggested he had no idea

They literally just finished making sure she wasn't in love with anyone back home so she could fall for Tamlin easier. So Lucien knows exactly why???

Feyre misses sleeping next to her sisters 🥺

Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie—probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers.

She legitimately doesn't know anything about Nesta.

...maybe the villagers would turn on my family, not wanting to be associated with people tied with Prythian, and run them out of town.

acotar Feyre would punch acomaf Feyre in the mouth

"Your hair is … clean. A pathetic compliment." 😭😭😭

(“What in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron is—”) so you're telling me sjm actually used to use real lore and incorporate it into worldbuilding. Wow. Like this is such a good line and flows so naturally from an upset Alis because of course that is how fae see the world.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at my slightly uptilted eyes. I knew I’d see Nesta or my mother looking back at me.

I’d sometimes wondered if that was why my sister had insulted me about my looks. I was a far cry from ugly, but…

I bore too much of the people we’d hated and loved for Nesta to stand it. For me to stand it, too.

The dynamic between Nesta, Feyre and the ghost of their mother could have been one of the realist, rawest elements of this series...

#acotar reread #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #tamlin #sjm critical #anti sjm #just in case

[lemonadedino]

ok all the hype around anyone but you has infected my brain and now all i can think about is the potential for a shakespeare much ado about nothing au with landoscar and lestappen

beatrice and benedick as landoscar because i feel like lando encapsulates the “shameless flirt” really well, the banter between them would be perf, oscar is so much wittier than people give him credit for, and the slow burn feeling realization

hero and claudio as lestappen because you get that insta-connection moment, then one of them gets misinformation, doesn’t think something through and makes a rash decision that doesn’t end well, but they end up together anyway after it all gets sorted out

but then I could also see it being the other way around too? any second opinions would be appreciated!!

also i have zero idea of who to use to fill the roll of don john and his whole posse of servants trying to mess up the romance because i have a hard time characterizing any of the drivers as “evil” because then i feel bad 😭 might just make up some random people tbh

posting this to motivate myself to write/actually finish the fic lol

#landoscar #lestappen

[amloveabledeathmo]

I would love to find a fic where Sherlock kisses John in a Study in Pink like right after he realizes that John is the one who shot the cabbie. I just think that would be an interesting thing. I have zero motivations and energy so not gonna try writing it myself.

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #john watson

[yandere-daze]

have you ever think about people who might be defending themselves not to reblog because they have a right to decide or something? this has been bugging my mind... no offense to anyone though, sorry, and love your works !

Rant incoming, just as a warning lol

But yes, obviously people have the right to decide if they want artists and writers to keep being motivated to post works on here for free or not.

As a writer myself, I just don´t understand the rationale behind it. There is literally zero reason not to reblog. It takes just as long as leaving a like and if you have zero patience to type out the tags then you don´t even have to necessarily to do that ( even if I will literally love you if you do!)

Likes do and mean nothing. They´re the equivalent of being left on reading after writing a long and heartfelt message.

Reblogs help our words getting spread around and actually show us that people care about our posts and want us to keep doing them.

But why have some people decided that they just refuse to do the thing the entire website is built around that would actually help their favorite blogs to stay motivated?

They have the choice not to reblog anything but it´s a selfish one and they better not complain when they get blocked or their favorite creators stop posting.

Just think about it: People ( me included) take hours out of their busy lives to write something and then post it because they want people to read and enjoy their works.

Writing sometimes takes hours of time and effort and it´s not always easy. If we were just going to do it for ourselves there would be no need to type out all of it out because the main fun part of the creative process to me is just daydreaming about an idea I had.

Actually putting it into words to tell a compelling story is tough and takes lots of patience. But we do it anyway because we want to share our ideas with other people, we want to talk about them with others. We want to ramble and fantasize about different scenarios. That´s fun.

It´s only natural to want at least some sort of feedback after spending so much time on something. And then it just hurts when people refuse to reblog your posts for ctually no reason at all, other than that they´re lazy or think a reblog is something super rare and special that only the "best" posts get to benefit from.

( Seriously, I don´t understand the sentiment of "Oh I really liked this but I didn´t like it enough to actually reblog and share it with other people. I don´t think the author should get any recognition. Oh but they better keep writing anyway and fast!")

At this point, rambling about ideas in a friend´s dms feels way more fulfilling. You guys have no idea of all the extensive rambles I went on with Korka that most likely will never see the light of day.

Why should I put in the effort and write it down to share with others when they can´t even bother to spend a single second to reblog it to show me that they appreciated what I wrote.

It makes no sense. Feedback and the back-and-forth with readers and fellow writers is what keeps us going. It´s super fun to get a conversation going about a cool idea you had! It´s not fun at all to see the notes on a post go up but no one saying anything. All that tells me is "huh, I guess people didn´t like this one. Guess I won´t post any of that anymore"

This complete lack of feedback from readers combined with work picking up is actually the main reason why I stopped writing for a few months. It didn´t feel rewarding anymore.

The recent yandere Alcryst post is actually one of the reasons why I started considering posting a bit more again. I was pleasantly surprised by all the nice tags and comments that one got and it made me smile every time I saw a new one pop up. I don´t care if it didn´t get as many notes as most twst works, I still felt way more satisfied and proud of it.

And that´s sort of where I come to the conclusion of this post:

Feedback matters, it really does! Likes tell us absolutely nothing, you could have downright hated it for all I know. But rest assured that I do screenshot every nice tag or comment I get, no matter if it´s actually a thought-out comprehensive analysis or just someone going "HJVJMVJM". I appreciate all of these so much. I save all of them in a little folder and look at them to cheer myself up when things might be tough.

So please, if you want your favorite blogs to continue then reblog! Maybe even leave a nice comment! Don´t forget that you get all of this stuff for free, creators are the ones keeping a community truly alive. You would probably be sad if your favorite writer or artist suddenly stopped posting due to a lack of support.

Please. Take that single second out of your life to hit the reblog button. It helps out more than you think and goes a long way to keep us motivated.

#anon ask #ramble #anyone that has been following me for a while knows that I´m pretty passionate about this topic #support writers #support artists #reblogging is not hard

[catboybiologist]

I maaaaay have spent most of my evening scrolling your dash. But, for my defense, you post good, Ma'am. Also I need someone to tell you your vocal tries are impressive. I tried to stay focused but your voice was so soft, that was lulling.

Anyway, uh, yeah. Question. I was here for a question.

I've just started my PhD, do you have any advice to handle the incoming workload and the pressure?

Aaaaww thank you <3 I might post more voice clips to practice in the future!

As for the question- a PhD experience is highly, highly variable. My advice is going to be strongly based on my own experiences, and my own program. It's probably more applicable if you're in a wet lab science, but still, take it with a grain of salt.

A big thing to realize about a PhD is that it isn't necessarily the sheer quantity of work you'll be doing, but how different the pace and the kind of work you do is from undergrad or a more typical job. Compared to undergrad, your classes will be far less important to nonexistent. Your time will mostly be split between research/thesis related projects, and teaching, depending on the teaching workload.

Your experiences with your research are going to vary a lot, but in general, your PI/research advisor basically determines everything. The #1, big, massive, blinking, do-not-avoid piece of advice I will give about grad school is: pick your research advisor carefully. Do NOT prioritize the exact, nitpicky subfield you want to work in. Your PhD doesn't determine the direction of the rest of your career. Instead, you HAVE to consider whether this is a person you can work for/with for the next 5-7 years. Do you want a more "hands on" person that will set short term goals, or someone that will leave you alone and just check in infrequently to help with long term goals? Do you communicate well with them? What's the word in the department about their mentorship style long term? Avoid people who take pride in trying to "challenge" you, invariably they're shitheads preying on people with more work ethic than self worth (may or may not be based on personal experience lol).

You might be past this point, depending on how your program works- for me, I had a year of rotations before settling in lab permanently. Unless you're a direct admit with an advisor you already know, I would basically consider this or a similar system to be a requirement of a program.

Beyond that, even if you end up in a more "hands on" environment, independence is key. Of course you should collaborate and ask people to help you, but in both a motivation and a practical sense, you should be able to work on your own and take initiative. You need to interpret your own findings and set your own direction for where they're going to go. You need to analyze whether that's in your capability and how you're going to get it done. My personal little advice is to always have at least one thing going on that you can do with zero to minimal input from anyone- for me, this takes the form of computational bioinformatics work that doesn't require any lab resources and most other people in my lab don't have the toolkit to do. Main projects or side projects like this allow you to get *something* done, even if you're stuck in a rut otherwise.

But then there's the flip side to that- you're almost always going to be your own worst critic. Pace yourself. You'll always feel like you're not getting enough done, and you'll fight that feeling constantly. Hell, writing this is like me telling on myself and leaving my own reminder for myself. Balance this with your ability to work independently. Be deliberate about your recreation time and keep yourself to it as well.

The PI selection is the only one that's like, a super strong piece of advice here. But I hope the rest was at least a bit useful!

[johnslittlespoon]

It just makes so much sense that you were writing in 2013, you have the unhinged vibe that the golden fics from that era had.

I'm just here to compliment you really lol, mostly because I am giving a try to write a lil something for the first time and god I can only dream of ever being able to write as good as you. I've been writing poems and music for years now but i find writing actual coherent storys with characters and dialogue so so hard.

I was wondering if you have any tips, or like little rules you follow when you write.

all the love, xxx

🌷

I'M GONNA CRYYYY this was the sweetest thing in the world to wake up to wtf wtf <333 thank you SO much, i really appreciate this wahh my heart :'))) but also you are SILLY. don't compare yourself to others!! if we all did that constantly we'd never get anything written!! there are SO many authors i adore on here that will always have me chasing the "i wish i could write like that" feeling and it's a great motivator but alsooo at the end of the day. you gotta fall in love with your own words and characters and stories <33

and i feel that so much!! we are twinsss, i also started out writing poems and music and then realized i had stories i wanted to tell that wouldn't fit in shorter form, then discovered fanfic in middle school in the early '10s and it was all downhill from there LOL. truly such a golden era tho oh my god. growing up reading the hat fic and borderline illegible wattpad stories was certainly... formative!

yapping ahead vv (i don't have much advice bc i'm still just learning as i go but hopefully some stuff i picked up on can be a bit helpful!)

i have zero method to the madness when writing so it's a relief to know it doesn't come off that way LOL but i do have a few little things that i follow and i always look for them when beta–ing as well! they're pretty small technical things and they're generally up to personal preference, but some of them come from authors i admire and i think they can really take anyone's writing up a notch <3

i don't feel qualified to give advice because i'm just raw–dogging everything lmao i've never taken classes or anything, so take all this yapping with a grain of salt bc it's just what's worked for me!

– i try to use descriptors like "the man" or "the blond" or "his friend" etc sparingly. i wish i could remember the source, but i read a great piece about why it's better to just go with the character's name 99% of the time, and then i went through so many of my works to edit them and i felt so much more confident in my writing afterwards– it made a big difference in readability (imo).

ofc there are exceptions, like if the name of a character is unknown, or if there are too many names being thrown around in one sentence and a "the man" or "the soldier" etc just sits nicer. i definitely still use them occasionally! but it does sometimes put some distance between the reader and the story when those descriptors are used too often instead of names, so it's a good thing to keep an eye out for when it comes to flow. sometimes less or more or whateva ??

– sorta on the topic of less is more, i love challenging myself to show vs tell when i can! whether it's by keeping dialogue short and letting actions speak instead (can add to intimacy/realism– we communicate so much through body language yk), through metaphors (literally how my whole '#john egan is dog coded' fic was born LOL), or describing feelings rather than spelling them out (his heart ached vs he was sad, his pulse raced vs he was scared, you get the gist). you said you've been writing poems so i feel like stuff like that would already probably come easily to you tho! <3

– this guide on ao3 is great for smut writers! whether someone's a beginner or just looking for ways to elevate the filth, i found it really helpful, it's a fun read as well lol. it calls out stereotypes/cliches and teaches you how to reword them, gives lists of slang and reactionary words, do's and don't's, etc. i don't follow everything in it but that's the beauty of writing; we all have things that work for us and things that don't and that's so okay. :-)

– in the same way that artists use references to practice and find their style, you can do that with writing too! i know a lot of writers have a doc or note where they jot down stylistic things they find while reading that they'd like to emanate, or words they want to use, specific phrases, descriptors, etc. if i'm reading a fic and find an auditory descriptor i like, i might take note of it, stuff like that. sorta like a text document version of a pinterest board!

– thesaurus.com is my best friend truly. often going with the 'simplest' version of a word makes for smoothest reading so someone isn't taken out of the story being like wtf does that word mean lol but sometimes things can feel repetitive, or like there just needs to be a little bit more spice; i probs go back and forth btwn my doc and thesaurus a dozen times an hour tbh.

that's all i can think of rn and ik those are pretty basic so i'm sorry about that!! i really do just kinda write what evokes emotions in myself, and then i hit post and hope it translates over to whoever is reading too :') drawing from your own experiences if you can/really sitting with what the characters would be feeling in whatever scenario you're writing is probably the most powerful way to present what you see in your mind.

i have a hard time writing about emotions/things i haven't personally experienced, so i usually stray away from it out of fear of not getting across what i want to, but some people are great at winging it and putting themselves in unfamiliar shoes so!! it's again just personal preference really.

and alsooo be kind to yourself! i'm an anxious wreck every time i post any of my writing, i am very much not confident when posting new fics and i agonize over my docs so much and trash a lot of works, but i know at the end of the day i can't grow or learn if i don't get the words down, and i can't get feedback or gain confidence if i don't post. becoming your own hype man and giving yourself the opportunity to improve is essential <33

sooo much love and best of luck!!! lmk if you end up writing smth, i'd love to read it (◠‿◠✿)

#also tentatively offering beta services to mota/sb moots bc i love helping w fics <33 hmu #if i am not super busy i am SAT #this got so long WHOOPS so sorry anon #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon yaps

[banamine-bananime]

preface: i was writing a list of my headcanons for funsies and got completely derailed with angsty grimmons shit that needs to be scooped out of that post because it’s stupid long. so here

grif worked in honolulu a couple years after hs graduation until kai was old enough (17) he felt he could leave. did a year at university before realizing he’s smart enough to be admitted to cornell but not to get the scholarship he realistically needs to not be in crushing debt on graduation, and also there’s not nearly enough regimentation to college life to prevent him from rotting in bed paralyzed by “oh my god i don’t have Responsibilities That Need To Be Done Right Now for the first time in forever and idk what to do now” and executive dysfunction. went through basic and stationed on the doomed outpost. That Whole Thing (a polite way of saying “sneaking off for a nap on duty, sleeping through a massacre, and waking up to find literally everyone else dead”) was the nail in the coffin that pretty much shot his last shred of motivation and hope to shit, and based on his behaviour and psych eval afterwards (best summarized as “learned helplessness that everything is shit always and he’s useless and never gonna be able to help anyone so 👍 fuck everything fuck everyone just try to eke some hedonistic joy out of life before you die”) he was reassigned to the sim soldiers.

meanwhile simmons tried to do university several times and had to drop out for mental health reasons (a very polite way of putting “rapid spiral into absolute disaster every time”. it leaves room for giving him the benefit of the doubt that this was a proactive “ah i should take care of myself and this is not working for me :) #selfcare #therapy” decision. this is not benefit of the doubt that anyone who knows him would extend.).

I go back and forth on whether to roll with the “that one throwaway line with a suspiciously specific hypothetical of being in a unit that was stranded and had to eat their dog to survive” thing or just say he was assigned straight to sim troopers. on the one hand, i really love grif and simmons having a parallel immensely traumatic first assignment that made them both Worse in kinda similar kinda opposite ways in line with the ways they were each already fucked up

(grif “life is inherently a garbage fire. i am useless. all i can do is look out for myself and save my own hide by absolute never trusting any authority, refusing to get attached to the other fuckers around here (they’d hate me anyways so just let them hate me), and obsessively hoarding any access to food and shelter and comfort because Maslow said I can’t work on health or belonging or esteem until i do :/ yeah i know, sorry, i’ve got a doctor’s note from him right here.” vs simmons “my life is a garbage fire probably because everyone around me is an idiot fucking something up but also because i’m not trying hard enough. i’m sure if i keep Performing The Maladaptive Behaviours even harder they will work and i THEN will feel respected and powerful and loved. you see you just have to keep repressing every feeling so you can suck up to anyone you detect a whiff of Authority Figure on no matter how little you actually respect them, and follow EVERY RULE and work and work and work. and you had better abandon any compunctions about things like eating a dog you loved or backstabbing a friend for brownie points from the CO who hates him or Literally Murdering your CO for a promotion. and if you ever stop desperately trying, fighting dirty looking out just for yourself, and instead just sit still for a moment and enjoy sincere zero-ulterior-motives connections with people, you will probably definitely immediately die of starvation or exposure (it is a metaphor you see. of exposure to the elements while stranded without resources. for the agonizing exposure of allowing yourself to be known.)”)

on the other hand i’m like whoa now. this boy’s got enough problems we really don’t need to be giving him any more or we’re really never gonna pry him free of the woobiefication fics.

#rvb #red vs blue #dexter grif #dick simmons #alexa send post #grif #simmons

[seraphtrevs]

Could you expand on the similarities/parallels between Lalo and Gus? (or link me to a post if you’ve already talked about it) I think it’s fascinating & I’d love to read more

OKAY I'm finally here - every time I've sat down to write it I've been sidetracked

First, let's talk about how they're different. They are polar opposites - orderly/chaotic, serious/playful, cold/hot, cartel outsider/cartel insider, born to poverty/born to wealth. I've kind of convinced myself that Lalo was designed specifically to be Gus's foil.

But like all good foils, they also have a lot in common. Such as:

They're all business. Neither of these men have anything remotely resembling a personal life. I've seen articles on several random pop culture websites that incorrectly say that Gus had Lalo's family killed at his home, but those people were not his family! He' paid them to be there! Because real, honest attachments would be a distraction - and a liability, as Gus learned from personal experience. (And who knows - maybe Lalo learned that lesson, too.) The only thing they have going on in their lives is the Game. When all you do is play a game, you tend to get pretty good at it. Which leads me to #2

They're on the same level. The cartel is not a brain trust. Gus and Lalo are usually the smartest people involved in whatever their latest scheme is, so when they encounter each other, there's a weird moment of recognition - oh hey, this guy is a serious opponent

And since they're both experts in the game they're playing, their trains of thought generally end up at the same destination. I'm sure the way they arrive at their conclusions is very different, which is something I think deeply annoys both of them - like, it's a very specific kind of annoying to have someone you despise come up with the same answer but in the wrong way. It's why they're able to anticipate and interpret each other's actions based only off vibes

They're ruthless. They both have zero qualms about doing whatever it takes to achieve their ends, with seeming little regret. We see Mike, Jesse, and Walt struggle with all the violence and the death, but Gus and Lalo never show regret. They know that sometimes you have to sacrifice pawns to win games, and so that's what they do

They're loners. Neither of them have a single real friend. If you buy my headcanon that Lalo is also gay, it kind of makes sense why he's also kept people at a distance. Neither of them can risk the kind of exposure being truly intimate with someone entails...and honestly, they're both just kind of weird and don't fit in, the way exceptional people don't sometimes.

They don't care much about material things. Neither of them seem particularly interested in a lavish lifestyle, outside of having a nice house and getting the occasional outrageously expensive bottle of alcohol. They don't wear expensive clothes. They don't drive especially flashy cars (compare Lalo's car with Nacho's). They don't throw parties to show off their wealth. Jimmy uses his money to the fullest extent - because what's the point of having it otherwise? But Lalo and Gus don't seem to care about that. Money is just one of your scores when you're playing to win

They're loyal - Gus was fiercely loyal to Max, and Lalo is fiercely loyal to Hector. I think this is related to their loner tendencies - it's rare to find anyone who truly understands them. It's like they take every last scrap of their humanity and invest it in one single person. This is how Lalo figures out that Gus is up to something - he knows that there's no way in hell Gus would ever save Hector's life unless he had an ulterior motive, so he started to look around for other things that didn't make any sense

#i'm sure I'll think of something else the moment I hit post #gustavo fring #lalo salamanca #better call saul #asks

[morverenmaybewrites]

So I just finished re-reading your fic (along with the new chapter), and there is something I noticed☝🏻

In chapter 19 there was a newbie cop with the last name Ramirez, the same last name as Lydia’s, is it just some coincidence or is there more to it?👀

And what I also noticed, when Jason panics or is feeling uncomfortable, he imagines how it must feel like being trapped inside a coffin, which is interesting because in this universe, he’s never died, hasn’t been inside a coffin but still imagines it, like…I love the little reference to the original Under the red hood Jason! It’s what makes your writing so good.

I actually had a bit of motivation to draw again after such a long time, thanks to your new chapter…maybe if I get myself to it, It’ll be some fanart to your fic.

Your update made me really happy, thank you, I made some brownies today, just imagine I give you one 🫶

-⛄️

In-universe, it's just a coincidence! They're distant cousins, at best. When I was writing that part, I thought it was a fun bit of worldbuilding to show that out of all of them, Lydia is the only one native to Gotham City and the only one with familial ties to it (Ant being an illegal immigrant, Sam being a victim of human trafficking and the reader being from...somewhere). Aha, wish I was that brilliant, anon. But in actuality, I wrote it not as a reference to Under the Red Hood but because Jason often thought that he was going to die in the basement of Arkham Asylum, and often thought of it as his coffin, hence the constant reference to it! I'm so happy to hear that you have the motivation to draw again! I can definitely relate to having zero motivation to create. If you end up making fanart of my fic, I would love to see it! Thank you for the brownie!

#⛄️ anon #ask