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imaginaryf1shots · 2 days

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My Girls | Step back

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Driver!oc x Max Verstappen

Summery: When Esteban crashes into Cecilia and blames her, Max won’t stand for it.

Warnings: Cursing, crashing, fighting

A.N: Could be read as a stand alone or part of the series.

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Series Masterlist

It’s race day, Cecila was starting P4 Max P3. The weather was good, no rain and it wasn't too hot. There was the possibility of a safety car but the team wasn't holding on to that. Following the team strategy for the week seemed like a good thing. Cecilia was feeling good about the race, and her pace. She had good control of the car and everything was running smoothly, some would say too smoothly. This should’ve been the sign that something will happen.

On lap 48 of 53 she was about to finish P2 just passing the pitlane exit when a car came out of the pitlane fast, this made her try and swerve away so they wouldn't crash but that caused both cars to get off the track. Cecilia cursed as she lost control of the car for a second before she got it under control and the car stopped.

Cecilia

Who the fuck is that? What the hell?

That's Ocon

Cecilia

Seriously what's wrong with him

It's not the first time the frenchman crashed into Cecilia, thankfully he barely touched her car this time and from the looks of it his car sustained damage, Cecilia was able to get back on the track but she had lost her place and was down to P11 he made her loose all the points and any progress she made throughout the race.

Obviously by the end of the race she couldn't make up the positions she lost. Finishing p 9. Cecilia was angry and disappointed. Rightfully so.

She parked the car and got out walking down the pitlane to get weighted and go do her media duty. She didn't bother taking her helmet off until she was off the lane. An fia person was talking to her, they gave Ocon a penalty for going over the speed exiting pit lane and forcing her off track.

They were barely out of the public view when an angry voice called Cecilia. The female was surprised to see that it's Ocon. He had no reason to be angry with her; she literally did nothing.

"What the fuck Cecilia!"

"What are you on about?" She asked him back, her voice angry.

"You just cost me the race." Esteban shouted, moving his hand around, the much taller male was now in arms reach of Cecilia, the FIA person stepped back to let the drivers scream their hearts out at each other.

"I cost YOU the race? you cost me the podium!" She was beyond confused why he was shouting at her for, he's clearly in the wrong.

"You still got points, I came in last!"

"How in the world is that my fault, you better check yourself Ocon because this isn't the first time you've crashed into me." She pointed at him before she crossed her arms feeling defensive, the Frenchman wasn't backing down, in fact he was moving closer.

"Hey, hey calm down mate." Carlos came up behind Cecilia, he stood facing the two fighting drivers, their voices were carrying all over the area.

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, my race is ruined, I got no points and I'm being investigated!"

"None of this is my fault and what you thought coming here to fight me will do what? Huh? What the fuck do you want?" Cecilia was really trying to calm down, but he wasn't helping. "It’s not my fault you can't drive!"

"What the fuck did you just say to -" Carlos placed his hand on Estaban’s shoulder to stop him from coming any closer, but Cecilia didn't take a step back, this irritated Estaban more. He tried to push Carlos off him but the Spaniard was holding him back. Suddenly they were joined with Lewis, the Mercedes driver stood next to his teammate quickly assessing the situation. "You shouldn't even be driving in an F1 car! Only got here because of daddy's money-"

"Woah, woah mate come on it's just one race." Now Lewis tried to stop him. Estaban then switched to French, he was shouting and Cecilia to her credit stopped talking when she saw that nothing was going through to him.

"Stupid fucking spoild brat, ccouldn't even keep it in your pants and-“

"I swear to god Estban shut the fuck up-

“Step back,mate.” Lewis said but it was like he was talking to himself.

"What's the truth!”

"That doesn't have to do with anything, stop being pitty.” Cecilia tried to reason, while also controlling her own anger.

“I'm not pity it's facts, You slu-“

Estaban almost fell on his back, a body was in front of you blocking his view to you, Estaban stumbled back. Since Carlos was holding him back he managed to help him balance himself before he fell. Looking up at who pushed him, he expected Lewis but he saw Max.

And Max is mad, he's pissed. He heard Esteban before he heard your voice and he knew enough French and heard what happened on track quickly from one of the Mercedes engineers that were around to congratulate Lewis on his podium.

"If you can’t drive, it’s your fucking fault, you don’t go around blaming people for your own wrong doings, you crashed into her, not the other way around.” Max spat the words out, he was breathing heavily, and when Cecilia tried to move to his side, Max just moved in front of her again. Lewis shook his head at her, this is now Max’s fight, no man would see another man yelling at his significant other and just stand by. Yes she can hold her own and can protect herself but it’s not about that. Max is dominant by nature and very protective, Cecilia is his and he’s not about to let someone disrespect her like that.

“You’re just saying that because you fuck her.” Once the words left his mouth, Carlos pushed Esteban back, before him and Lewis held Max back, and if they didn’t he would’ve broken his jaw.

“Max! Max, come on, it's not worth it.” Cecilia shouted trying to get her boyfriend to calm down but to no avail, in what felt like ages but in fact under a minute, more people were around breaking the two men away from each other, there was a lot of shouting cursing, Esteban and Max wouldn’t back down. It took Esteban being pulled away by his team to get Max to calm down just enough for him to start hearing what was being said to him. Cecilia held his bicep and placed a hand on his chest, he was heaving, his eyes looking at where Esteban went. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“Okay, I think we can all get back to work now!” Christian who appeared mid-fight, called for everyone, the crowd started to disperse, Toto who was also present told the female to come find him after she’s done. Christian patted Max’s back and whispered something in his ear before he looked at Cecilia, with a reassuring nod, he left the couple. She can handle Max.

“You okay?” She asked him softly, Max still wouldn’t look at her, placing her hand on his cheek, he finally looked at her.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” Max’s tone did a 180, this is her Max, the Max only she gets to see.

“Yeah, he hasn’t said anything new, and he’s wrong.” Cecilia shrugged, she’s not friends with Esteban, they don’t really have common friends, but she liked to believe that she’s on good terms with everyone on the grip, but apparently not.

“Still doesn’t make it okay.” Max pushes her hair out of her face, it’s out of the braid and flowing down her back.

“Never said it does, but you know, some men have fragile egos.” Cecilia said with a smile, her hands were on his chest, they were standing very close.

“Yeah, and they better stay away from you.” Max muttered bitterly. “Fuck, I still want to punch him.”

“That makes the two of us, BUT we have a daughter to set an example for so we’ll take the high ground.” Cecilia knew that once she brought the Nathalie card Max would cave, and he knew she knew that, Cecilia giggled at the look he gave her. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“It’s my job.” Max kissed her forehead and pulled the female in for a hug, they were both sweaty and Max still had champagne all over him but they both needed that hug. They stood there for a few minutes, before they pulled back, they had obligations to do, and both will have to talk to their teams about what happened and the FIA would have to hear about it as well. So a lot of work for both of them.

“I love you.” Cecilia said as they rounded the corner for the media pen.

“I love you too.” Max kissed the back of her hand that was laced in his before they pulled away from each other and were joined by their own team’s PR managers to go into the media pen.

TAGLIST:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life . @lilipiggytails . @rebelatbay . @christianpulisic10 . @ironmaiden1313 . @dark-night-sky-99 . @amalialeclerc . @bborra . @allsouls-emma . @buckybarns4life . @distancedss . @xoscar03 . @aquangxl .

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #my girls #max verstappen x oc #max x oc #max one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1

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homo-house · 6 months

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hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

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liesmyth · 6 months

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I want to start running...any tips?

I WAS BORN TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Thank you so much for asking! Unfortunately, I am a nerd about my hobbies so this got quite long.

Keep it simple ✨

Running is easy to get into; our bodies are built for it. Don’t stress over technicalities and just do what feels natural to you. My local races are full of 70-something white-haired pensioners who are kicking ass at it. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is meant to feel like dying, that’ll harm your knees, or that you absolutely need to have that specific smartwatch model to get into it. All you need is a solid pair of shoes, everything else is optional.

Medium effort is the way to go

The ideal aerobic running pace is a speed at which you’re able to hold a conversation, even if a bit winded. NO faster. If you’re able to sing along to your playlist or chat with a friend, that’s your ideal running pace. If you’re gasping or wheezing, slow down! You’ll get a bit faster as your lung capacity gets better, but that shouldn’t be a priority unless you want to train for a race. You get most of the health benefits of running just by keeping up a steady, sustainable, conversational pace.

Walking breaks are fine, actually

That’s the reason why I don’t love C25K as a beginner program — the way it’s structured sort of implies that walking breaks are something you should grow out of to become a more experienced runner. If you need to walk for a bit, go ahead.

If possible, jogging is preferable, just because the mechanics of even a glacial-pace jog are more similar to running than those of a faster power walk, so you might try switching to a jog after a bit of a walking interval. But walking is not a failure; there are serious marathon training plans out there that use walk/run intervals as a viable strategy.

(Related: picking up speed helps you keep going! If you feel like you are completely drained, try speeding up for a very short interval, then slowing back down. It’ll often give you an energy boost to keep going)

Run for time, not distance ⌚

Especially for beginners, I find that getting fixated on numbers can be counter productive, and the most important thing is to listen to your body. If you’re aiming to hit a certain mileage, you might get the urge to speed up at the end to get done faster. Instead, set yourself time-based goals and end every run with a cool down jog or walk.

SHOES!! 👟

Good running shoes are essential, and pretty much the only fitness-related purchase on which I’ll always support dropping money. If you get to the point where you’re consistently running 10 km (6 miles) each week, you’ll want to go to a running store — the kind of place where you’ll get fitted, and they’ll have you try on models and jog on a treadmill to evaluate your gait and let you know which characteristics your ideal shoe needs. I can’t stress enough how useful running store staff can be. They’re all running club nerds who LOVE getting new people into running, and they really want to help you find your ideal fit. Also get good running socks while you’re at it.

Be prepared to drop at least 100€ (or equivalent currency) but they usually have a great return policy if the model isn’t a good fit for you. Take care of your running shoes — maintenance, wearing them only for running, gentle cleansing etc — and the cushioning will last for quite a while (600km / 370miles at least). If you decide that you hate running, they’re still great for walking around. Once you find your ideal shoe model, it gets a lot easier to shop for it during end-of-season sales, or looking for online bargains etc. I love stocking on end-of-series shoes and rotating them so they’ll last even longer, and I buy online quite often! Just make sure your FIRST pair is fitted, for ideal injury prevention and joint health.

Injury prevention 💪

I’d love to still be running 10k races when I’m 70, but it takes some care to get there. When you run, you’re slamming your body weight up and down with every stride, and that might be hard on your joints if you’re not used to it. If you’re completely new to running, cap your runs at 15/20 minutes every other day. Do that even if you feel like you could keep going! If you have a good aerobic base already, you need to give your joints time to catch up with you lung capacity, and give your body time to recover. Do bodyweight exercises like lunges and planks and glute bridges to strengthen your core, legs, and hips. Dynamic stretches are great for warmups, and static stretches are better for cooling down. If you have the option, running on softer surface like grass or dirt is better than asphalt, which is better than concrete and pavements.

(If nothing of what I’ve said here makes sense to you, shoot me another ask, or look at some of the resources I’ve linked down below!)

Don't get bored! 🎶

I love running in groups. Running clubs are great. You can learn so much in a hands-on way from seriously experienced people, you can chat about gossip over a running job, and you can make some interesting friends. If you don’t have access to a running community, then personally I love just chilling on a run by myself listening to an audiobook or podcast or exploring a certain area.

Running form❓

Don’t stress about it. Just go out and move your body. Attempting to modify your ‘running form’ too quickly can do more harm than good. There ARE a few things you could pay attention to — I recommend trying to focus on one of these at a time for a minute or so, and alternate between them. After a while, it’ll start to feel natural to keep track of all of them:

1. Don’t slouch! But a slight lean forward is great.

2. Keep your shoulders pulled down and your upper back tense.

3. Swinging your arms in a way that helps with your stride is good, but I shouldn’t feel forced.

4. Even breaths, inhaling through your mouth and expiring through your nose.

5. Take turns to check with every part of your body, and relax them in turn: are your jaw and neck too tense? Are your fists tight?

6. Don’t overstride! shorter strides with quicker leg turnover are better than huge strides that feel awkward to you.

7. Use your glutes to drive up the motion of your legs, not just your quads. This can take a while to get used to, but it’s a game-changer.

8. ENGAGE YOUR CORE. This is a great skill to develop whether you work out or are just existing in the world — basically, let your inner abdominal muscles help you carry your weight forward. This is VERY intuitive once you know how to do it, but it’s hard to get a grasp of it if you don’t know what it means, so here are some resources about it.

an extremely fucking comprehensive article that improved my life and eased my big-boobs back pain

similar content but in video form

a running-specific form video

Personally, learning to do this made me feel like I unlocked a superpower. Go forth and brace.

Accessories and tips 🤓

Like I said above, the only thing I really suggest spending money on for real is running shoes. Everything else is details! However, I’m nothing if not wordy I have Thoughts about those details, too.

Run tracking: I suggest downloading Runkeeper if you want to keep track of your runs — it’s free, intuitive, and solid! If you decide to get into wearables, a low-level Garmin >>>>> anything else.

Self-care: use sunscreen and/or thick face cream as needed. Stop to sip at a public fountain if needed. Get a small fanny pack to hold your phone, keys, or lip balm if needed. If chafing is an issue, anti-glide gel is relatively affordable.

Outfits etc: I get all my running gear and clothes from Decathlon — they are in most countries and ship worldwide. I especially love this thermal shirt for colder weather

Safety: if you’re running on the road, make sure to run in the opposite direction from traffic and to wear something bright. If you run with headphones near traffic, keep the volume down, or get over-the-ear conductor headsets. I love shokz, they're fantastic.

Post-run snack: eating something small and carb-heavy within 30 mins of a workout is great for kickstarting recovery. I love dried fruit personally.

Various resources 📝

Routine basics: check out the r/running order of operations, which is a great “how to” guide to building a basic running routine. I also recommend that subreddit's wiki! Running programming gets exponentially more involved the more advanced you get, etc — if you ever have any questions, hit me up!

Dynamic stretching warmup: a quick leg swing workout to get your legs ready to go. If you’re feeling overachieving, here’s a lunge warmup routine and a how-to bodyweight squat video.

Cooldown routine! Check out Strength and Mobility, a great post-run quick cooldown routine that includes some bodyweight exercises to strengthen your hips and core. Video included.

that's all, folks! 🏃‍♀️

Sorry I got carried away! I love running. I love getting people into running. My mental health, cardiovascular system and my popping quads also love running. But FYI, some people hate running and that's also fine! If you decide it’s not for you, find something you like more. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and a lot of guilt-tripping and body shame-y rhetoric around exercising, especially aimed at women, and I want to make clear it’s all bullshit. Just have fun <3

#Anonymous #ask #jockposting #running #fitblr #exercise tips #running basics #exercise #runblr #long post #for reference I mostly run in brooks ghosts but I use the levitate for speedwork and more intense long runs #I stock whenever there's a sale on runnea or runningwarehouse or whatever #pinned

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

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how about v with a very chill and sleepyhead reader? like they come back from work tired and just cuddle with v, they don't care how weird and scary v is, he doesn’t even have to threaten them about leaving the house because the first second they put their head on his chest they’re already asleep- And when they wake up they just want to keep their hands around him (like imagining a panda riding on your back and never wants to get down, they’re just like that)

I miss him and want something sweet with him 👉👈

(Feel these too could work together - ngl I'd love to see reader trying to wrangle v into having a somewhat regular sleeping schedule. dude needs it tbh.)

8:34

Four minutes later than estimated, but given traffic delays he's willing to let it slide - this time. V shuts off the tracker, and tosses his phone towards the bed as he stands. Your keys hit the coffee table and your shoes fly with a soft thud as you kick them off. He crawls into bed and under the blankets as you enter the room - snapping the bands that keep his pigtails in place and ruffling his hair as the light turns on. He hides his face in the pillow.

"I'm back..... oh, crap - were you sleeping?"

V rubs his fist against his eye. "Just resting my eyes... How was your day?"

"Really? Hope you don't mind if I join you then."

As if he'd ever. You climb over V to your side of the bed. He liked it when you slept in the corner as his body in the way made it more difficult for you to get away. You shrug your jacket off your shoulders, aided by V who throws it on the floor behind him as he yanks you down with him. His arms wrap defensively around your torso which you respond to by placing your head on his chest. He stills - heartbeat ten miles a minute on your ear. So demanding - but so sensitive to affection at the same time.

"To answer your question - my day was alright - the usual. Thanks you sending me lunch by the way. I know you mostly did it so I wouldn't go with Dave again, but it was sweet."

"First it's getting lunch, then it's the deep, "friendly" conversation while you're getting your meals, then he's bragging about how you have "so much in common" and next thing you know he's trying to get in your pants.... Is that manager of yours still messing with you?"

You stifle a laugh at his mocking pitch in voice. "Nah, they backed off after I said I was seeing someone - and got fired the next day, strangely. Honestly, V you worry too much. I come back home to you everyday, don't I? Besides if I bailed on you - I'd lose your comfy bed too."

Gaze soft - V squeezes your side at the implications you're only with him for his bed. You bark out a laugh. "It was a joke! Only reason I like it so much is cause you're here with me too. Promise you won't leave when I fall asleep to get back on the computer?"

"....no." He lies through his teeth, but his eyes grow as heavy as yours as you lazily trace your fingers along his collar. Like you, V couldn't fight the element of serenity when cuddle with you, and fell asleep almost as soon as you - kept awake by your body laying next to his. Comforted and secure around someone like him - he never understood why he was deserving of such an honor, but it was the one unfair treatment in his life he wouldn't complain about.

He was the whole reason you switched to the night shift in the first place. V stayed up for hours between gaming and watching you get ready for work at the crack of dawn - and later monitoring your whereabouts when the sleep deprivation and anxiety about letting you out in the world got the better of him. This way, you both got a sustainable amount of needed sleep and a partner to hold in that time. Your plan was already showing spectacular results as V found himself yawning at seven in the eve and resisting the urge to dive in bed until you came home.

"Hm, well as long as you're here now, I guess I'll let it slide." You lift your head, scooting up to kiss his jaw. "Goodnight, V."

His lips rest against your forehead, fingers raked through your hair as he pulls you closer - slinging a leg over yours. Staring at the wall behind you, V laments the loss of precious hours in his games - but relishes everything he gains by remaining at your side. The scent of your body wash, your soft breath fanning his neck. It feels so stupid to depend on the little things, but he couldn't rest or even think without you anymore. It's ridiculous to think.... how lucky he is to have you.

"Night, Y/n.....i love you."

"Hear that. Love you too, V"

"Damn it."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere oc #V my oc #yandere fluff

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breannasfluff · 10 months

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Quick question, how do you write so much? I fight the words for an hour and have maybe 2 paragraphs of garbage but you pump out really nice work almost every day??? I have so many ideas but I can’t write them for love nor money

I write almost every day, or I take a break and switch it out for drawing. I generally can write a chapter in one go, so usually stock up some backlog to cover days I’m busy. Having multiple stories now means I don’t have that backlog of some, so updates are a bit slower.

As for writing tips:

1. Remove distractions. Shut discord, exit out of tumblr, mute your phone. When you are stuck, don’t go scroll social media. When writing, the only thing I touch the internet for is if I need to check a story item, like a character name, item history, etc. I cannot overstate how important this is. If you are talking to your friends, you won’t have a writing flow.

2. Do not edit as you write. Writing and editing are two different tasks. You switch between creative and critical thinking and it breaks flow. This is a scientific process and you can read more about it here.

Research electroencephalogram (EEG) suggests both heightened electrical brain wave activity and elevated dopamine levels during flow. In other words, your brain experiences both electrical and chemical changes when you’re “in the zone.”

But once you switch to self-editing mode, you move to the critical thinking side of your brain. You halt all of freewriting’s creative electrical impulses and pleasure-sensing dopamine levels. Your mind flips off one switch and turns on another.

3. Set a time, then be done. Give yourself 20 minutes and write as much as you can. Doesn’t matter if it’s garbage. You can edit garbage into something useful or you can chuck it in a bin. Just try to write, then take a break. Staring at a blank document for two hours isn’t going to make words appear and it just stressed out your brain.

4. Have an outline. Sometimes a magical idea just flows when you sit down to write, but generally not. Have an outline of what you want to have happen in your story or chapter. It doesn’t need to be in depth; for most of my oneshots I literally have a sentence or two at the top of the page. The story needs to have a goal. For example: Wild tries to teach Hyrule cooking. It doesn’t go well. Bouncing ideas off friends can be a big help! It’s why you’ve probably seen me post about prompts and suggestions, and sometimes stories are gifted to people. Talking through plot ideas can help you get a better outline or idea of action.

Misc notes:

Hate to say, but some of it is just practice. I’ve been actively writing for a little over a year with some breaks on and off. Making it a habit is a big thing for making it easy. It’s harder to restart after a break.

When I first started writing I tried to pick one aspect to improve for each story. Filter words, pacing, varying sentence starters, story arcs, etc. Fixing multiple things at once was too much work, but one item at a time was doable.

Filter words make such a huge difference in writing; I encourage you to look them up. It’s a PAIN to remove them in post, but it also taught me to cut them out. Now it’s unconscious and while some still show up, I tend to write them out automatically.

You can learn to write quickly, but if you don’t also work on quality you’ll just…write a lot. That said, it’s fanfic. Sometimes it’s just for fun and quality doesn’t matter. I’ve got plenty of stories that will never be posted because they are just for fun.

Some of it could be writing speed, too? I use a bot a lot of times for timing and tracking and generally average 30-35 words/min. Harder story topics are slower to write, like angst and emotional scenes.

I’m actually writing less this year than last, but I don’t put as much time into it. It also keeps it sustainable as a hobby, although I definitely hit periods of frustration. It can get overwhelming.

If you search my blog for the tag #writing advice or #writing tips, you should fine some other things as well.

This was rather frank, but hopefully helpful! Feel free to drop further questions and I’ll do my best to answer 💜

#asks #writing advice #writing tips #writing #creative writing #fanfic writing

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mx-julien · 15 days

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weird little guy Jay was a little too bright and clever and inventive as a kid, for most people. Ed and Edna loved it, of course, but other kids at his school and other adults he talked to weren't sure what to do with him. from his personality in the pilot, it seems like he's not used to others liking him

it's a common issue for any kid (especially ND kids) with a strong sustained interest in something. using my credentials *gestures to childhood* I will hypothesize what Jay's social life growing up might've looked like:

a curly little mop of auburn hair ran home from the bus stop, waving a messy technical drawing and yelling. Ed lifted up his welding hood, "what's goin' on, Jay?"

"Dad! Dad! I know how to- how to make-" Jay plopped down next to his dad, sending a little puff of dirt into the air, "I know how to make it go smooth! we use ball bearings!"

"kiddo you're exactly right- but first you gotta drop your backpack by the house and tell your Mom about school," Ed went to pull his hood down," and I'm nearly done with this, okay? we can get started right after"

"make sure you look at these," Jay carefully flattened his wide ruled notebook paper with hastily done technical drawings, using some nearby scrap to hold each corner down, "I explained everything here," pointing to a mass of scribbles, "okay?" peering up at his Dad, Jay's curls obstructed more of his vision.

"I promise, kiddo," Ed patted his son's fluffy head, "you worked real hard on them."

beaming, Jay slung his backpack on and ran back to the house bent down partway with both arms extended behind him. kids, Ed shook his head with a smile, always finding ways to do new silly things

~*~

excited shouts were a regular occurrence at the Walker home, Jay frequently came back from school with new insights and ideas to tell them. since his latest project was with Ed, Edna got to talk to Jay about everything else. they switched off so that one of them got to spend hours with their son while the other took care of most of the business and cleaning.

speaking of her son, the trailer door rattled before flinging open, "Mom!" Jay ran over to give her a hug at the kitchen sink, where she was doing dishes.

"hi dear, how was school today?"

"good. I drew for me and dad's project and we did some more multiplying and I'm really good at it" he rattled off more activities as he pulled out his lunchbox and homework for that day.

everything he talked about involved teachers and classwork. Jay only mentioned other kids when they commented on his drawings or played with him at recess, which was not as common as they would've liked. when she and Ed last met with his teacher, she remarked on how bright Jay was and that he loved speaking to all of his teachers- even at recess and during lunch.

he had friends, but most of them didn't talk to him as much at school as they did when they came over. she could tell Jay was trying very hard to not take it personally, but he was just a child.

it wasn't malicious, of course, the other kids weren't trying to be cruel- they wanted to have a lot of friends and Jay wasn't joining the other kids at recess; he found sticks and things to make little cars and catapults. no one could keep up with him and he never cared to race the cars or use the catapults to hit things. he just wanted to make them better and better.

he is so similar her and Ed were as children: bit with the invention bug and always pushing towards making everything better than it was before. except Jay didn't have a close friend to share that with. he asked her once, in between sobs, why everyone else had a best friend except him. it broke her heart, knowing that Jay felt that everyone was friendly with him, but not friends with him.

"Mom, can you help me with math tonight? I need to practice my multiplication tables up to 12"

Jay's request pulled her back to the present. taking a beat, she made sure he wouldn't be able to read the sadness she felt, "of course, dear, I'd love to," smiling, she ruffled his curls and glanced at the kitchen table. all his homework was in a neat stack, he'd emptied out what was left in his lunchbox, and set the tupperware onto the countertop. her son was bouncing up and down on his toes, waiting for her permission to run outside.

Edna bent down, taking Jay's head in her hands and placing a light kiss on his forehead, "good job, dear, and thank you for unpacking everything. make sure you take a glass of water out for your father and come in once the sun goes down, okay?"

"okay!" making a mad dash for the door, Jay suddenly diverted to grab the glass, and then started a more careful walk over to Ed, valiantly trying to not spill a drop.

their precious son would find his people, she was sure of it. and in the meantime, she and Ed would be here for him.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ed and edna #ed walker #edna walker #jay walker #jay angst #kinda??#jay's childhood is a little sad but not completely #inspired by Real EventsTM and by that I mean growing up with ADHD #this was supposed to be a short post but oh well #lmk if I should expand on this and post it to ao3

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creatrixanimi · 1 month

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as a submas fan who recently got into hazbin I would absolutely love to hear your au thoughts!!!!

Ok ill have to try to write out everything i've got so far!

So the original premise was that ingo and emmet got mixed up and ingo got sent to hell instead of emmet as an oopsie (emmet didnt do anything overly bad in life but heaven/hell stuff is so arbitrary they probably just made a weird decision somewhere down the line lol) but i thinkkk i have switched it to Ingo gets sent to hell because Volo successfully sacrificed him in a ritual and emmet, while dying in the same place, wasnt actually part of it so normal rules still applied to him. Ingo's soul is all messed up and corrupted because of the ritual which caused his amnesia. Emmet finds out about Ingo being sent to hell after he cant find ingo anywhere in heaven and rightfully gets upset at heaven's lack of action because he see's ingo's situation as a huge injustice. So Emmet's whole thing is basically just causing problems until he finds his way to hell and reunites with ingo.

Ingo's situation is where the fun is lol. So he wakes up after spawning in hell and is just a total odd-ball. Half because he doesnt remember ANYTHING from before he died. Maybe not even his name? Which is weird. And also because he's a total sweetheart. No one can figure out why he's even there because it's not like he's a hellborn so he must have done something to end up in hell. After a brief period of wandering around aimlessly, Lady Sneasler, who is an overlord in this au, kinda adopts him and takes him places because she thinks hes so charming and adorable. Melli is just a guy that hangs around lady sneasler even though he acts like he doesnt like her? She's the poison overlord (kinda like an aqua tofana situation for sneasler) and melli is a poison guy. So they kinda just fall into the same group. So they both become friends of Ingo. After a while of character introductions and some brief fun stuff like Sneasler getting Ingo to do all kinds of fun stuff he probably wouldnt do on his own (like the clubbing thing lmao) Ingo has his first blackout, probably triggered by some sort of memory thing, and its kinda terrifying. When he has those blackouts he shifts into his full demon form and his power goes haywire causing a lot of destruction. Its a huge shock because normally regular sinner demons dont really have much in terms of inherent power and also because Ingo cant actually use his powers while conscious so there was no sign of him being capable of that level of chaos. Anyway, after he has his little blackout his body sustains damage from exerting that kind of power and is kinda down for the count for a while afterwards. His story from there on is figuring out what is going on with him and trying to stop those blackouts before it either destroys him or a good chunk of the city, whichever comes first lmao. Sneasler is kinda just there to reign in ingo and melli she just loves a good show lol Melli is kinda where i wanna connect it more to the existing hazbin characters/storyline. Because this is lowkey more of a crossover. He accidentally becomes charlie's new pet project which no one is a fan of 😂 melli did not volunteer for this at all but his character arc is learning to make friends and care about other people after pushing people away for so long because he's a huge ball of self-hatred. He's kinda perfect for the "i can fix him" thing the hotel is all about. SO he's stuck learning to become a better person and being the narrative connection back to the core of the actual show lmao. Not sure if they ever even stay at the hotel. Maybe ingo and melli could flip flop between sneasler's place and the hotel. They dont actually have places of their own so its one or the other. In terms of intra character interactions i think its like this (this is prolly set post-s1 so no sir pentious): Charlie: thinks ingo is nice, wants to fix melli and is working with ingo to do this. Her relationship w sneasler is similar to rosie in my head. Alastor: finds Ingo somewhat threatening because Ingo can read him like a book. would otherwise find him pleasant but because he has a hard time keeping up his mysterious scary image around him he avoids him if possible. Ingo really likes him because "he reminds him of someone but he cant put a finger on it", will teleport away if melli is in the vicinity, finds sneasler charming. would gossip with her 10/10. When emmet shows up they try to kill each other which is entirely unsurprising. Everyone else in the hotel is more or less "theres something not right about that ingo guy but he's nice enough i guess", "FUCK melli get him OUT OF HERE", and "lady sneasler is chill" and when emmet shows up theyre just like "oh this explains why he likes alastor so much. Now theres TWO OF THEM." I would like to develop the other character's opinions on the situation more but this is getting. so so long. misc other character stuff:

Lady sneasler still has sneasels, usually 3 of them. they just have tiny wings and horns but otherwise look like regular sneasels. No clue what their deal is they just exist.

Rosie and Sneasler get along great. they are kinda similar but fill different power-niches in hell.

Rosie finds ingo SO charming. She loves his odd vintage flair despite literally dying like. in the 2020s lol. He's very popular in cannibal town because he's a train freak and edwardians love trains. He takes the cute edwardian cannibal kiddies on train rides.

im not really sure what goes on with emmet in this au i just know he's having a shit time of it and eventually finds ingo. I havent decided if he actually falls or just leaves heaven because it sucks and no one cares enough to stop him. Also only slightly related but i actually have a voice-canon for him which is will wood which works great for this au lmao. Also emmet plays killer jazz piano and alastor is so mad about it because its actually good.

emmet and alastor dont really have all that much in common besides the smile thing but its just enough for them to beef over it. really its a similar feud as alastor and lucifer, alastor sees emmet as a threat both because of his power and the smile thing and emmet doesnt like that ingo is following alastor around like a lost puppy. emmet is def way less mysterious, he's just pissed that his brother is suffering even if ingo doesnt seem to notice his own problems.

volo doesnt really come back up in this au because he's still alive. just imagine that akari is kicking his ass in the living world or something lmao.

i cant decide if pokemon exist in this universe. It would be funny tho to have chandelure exist in a world where souls are like whole ass people who can die for a second time. worlds nicest guy's pet lamp eats people until theyre perma-dead for breakfast.

Elesa (and probably also drayden and iris depening on your headcanons) are very sad :( i like emmet/elesa so it makes it extra hard on elesa tho. there is no solution for this.

not sure what the arceus situation is here. hazbin as far as i know doesnt have a canon god design so for all we know god could be a dumbass llama i guess. its doesnt really matter besides stylizing volo's ritual

#i have so many thoughts but no plot to speak of #good thing im not a writer and jst doodle things so it doesnt matter #submas hazbin hotel au #ask #i hope this isnt too long sdfgh

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hardwiredweird · 6 months

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"Draw every day" is not bad art advice, you're just doing it wrong!

Or it just might not be for you.

(hah, look at me trying my hand at clickbait titles)

I've seen yet another person say that "Draw every day" is THE WORST advice and it WILL kill your creative spirit, yadda yadda yadda and after taking a moment to breathe and find my zen, I wanna say ....

No.

There are many factors to if that advice is good for you or not, but let me start out by stating why so many people, actual long term professionals in creative fields, do give that advice.

Doing something every day builds a habit and a habit is easier to keep up with than something you do occasionally when you feel like it.

When it comes to practicing, shorter but more frequent practice sessions can be retained better than occasional long sessions. We can only focus for so long at a time (studies apparently suggest that 20-50 minutes is ideal) after which we have strongly diminishing results.

So, five sessions of an hour each will be more productive than one long five hour session.

That said, I also think that a lot of people misinterpret the advice as "be creative every day of your life". Which ... yes, that is not sustainable, but that is also not what most people mean when they say that.

Breaks are not just inevitable (and should not make you feel like you 'failed') but they are necessary. Breaks are when our brains can absorb stuff and put it into our long term memory (which then translates to muscle memory for physical tasks).

So "Draw every day" doesn't mean literally every single day of your life. Take breaks, take a day, two days, three days off, if you need. Take those breaks occasionally or give yourself one scheduled day a week to take the time off. Different people will need different schedules.

"Draw every day" also doesn't mean "Be creative every day". A drawing habit consists of studies, too. And switching things up (do something cool and creative one day, practice line art the next, play with some colour theory the day after that...) is good and comes back to the "our brains need breaks to solidify stuff". If you try to come up with something new and creative every single day then, yes, that's going to burn you out.

But drawing every day can also just look like doing a little eye study on a post it note or doodling around to find a stylisation for noses you like. It's about staying in the habit. Not about being productive every day.

"But Tal, I can't draw every day, I don't have the time!" I hear some of you cry and ... yeah. I recognize that. That's what the little sub-title is for.

Some people just don't have the luxury of doing art every day. And that is fine. Be it your work schedule, your day to day tasks and obligations, your other hobbies or your health that prevents you from building that habit, that is all COMPLETELY FINE. In the end, doing art occasionally is still better than not doing art at all (if making art is your goal).

No advice out there (that also counts for a lot of 'do not ever do this' type of advice) is a one size fits all solution.

Drawing daily (under the caveats mentioned above with breaks and all) is a great way to improve fast (but just drawing daily isn't necessarily going to lead to improvement, intentional practice is, but this is a topic for another post). It is great advice for everyone who has the time and means (mental spoons included here) to build that habit. But many people interpret it wrong and it definitely is not advice for everyone.

Just keep in mind that just because something didn't work for you doesn't mean it doesn't work for others and suggesting that is the REAL bad art advice.

#{art advice}

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kaiwewi · 1 year

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Sharing is Caring #5

[Masterlist: Sharing is Caring] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Synopsis: the villain seems to be seeking a diplomatic solution, but Hero already has other plans.

Two weeks.

Two entire weeks! Lost. Stolen.

But hey, fantastic news! Their pretentious health-freak demon had turned out to be just some apparently telepathic scientist villain. Hm, yes, great. Completely reassuring. No problem in sight anymore. Perfectly peachy. Didn’t they just feel so much better already?

Yeah … nope.

If anything, Hero was even more angry. Livid. Fuming.

The stupidly neat pile of notes on the desk did not pacify them in the least. Neither did the seminar certificate. That the villain had gotten the highest possible grade somehow seemed yet another insult, further mockery. Like the villain was trying to prove themself a superior version of Hero. Like they thought they were so perfect and benevolent, doing Hero such a grand favour, and now Hero owed them compliance or something.

No way.

Negotiations? Cooperation? Yeah right. Absolutely not.

As if they would ever surrender to some lowly, lying body thief. How dare the villain use that patronising tone with them, as if Hero was just an unruly child throwing a silly tantrum? How dare the villain pretend this messed up situation was normal and everything was fine and the two of them could just coexist?

The bastard had made it sound like they were planning on making a permanent home of Hero’s body. As if Hero would ever tolerate the villain’s presence. As if they would stand by and do nothing while the villain robbed them of half of their time – half of their life.

Or rather, their whole life, considering they couldn’t hope to have any normalcy at all when they could never trust in tomorrow. They wouldn’t be able to make plans, or sustain friendships, or hold a job. If they didn’t get rid of the villain, Hero would only ever be able to live spontaneously, one day at a time.

And that wouldn’t do. Besides, this was their body and theirs alone!

The villain might have won a battle, stealing a staggering two weeks at once, but Hero was not going to lose the war. Their righteous revenge would not be long in coming.

But they had to be smart about it. Their first theory, about switches occurring once the one in control had slept thrice, was officially obsolete. The pattern they’d thought they’d found in the data must have been a coincidence; even if it had worked out for them last time. However, it was ludicrous to assume that someone like the villain might have only slept three times during the last two weeks.

Back to square one. Unfortunately, they’d have to consider the inconvenient idea that the switches could be entirely erratic.

So, poisoning themself was also off the table now – the villain was right, it wasn’t feasible in the long run, and the unpredictability of the right timing made physical discomfort too much of a gamble to be an effective weapon – but they still had a plethora of alternatives up their sleeve.

“Demon or not,” they said, though they were pretty sure the villain couldn’t actually hear them, “compared to what I’m about to put you through, hell will look like a sweet vacation spot.”

…

An hour later, they finished installing the last mini speaker below their desk drawer’s newly constructed false bottom and hooked it up to the rest of the secret audio system they’d hidden all over the room. – Five mini speakers, each with their own specially programmed time switch controls, connected to tiny audio players full of short, creepy sound clips. A power bank on each of them would ensure they weren’t going to run out of energy even if Hero should be unconscious for longer than a few days again. The entire setup could run uninterrupted for at least ten days. As long as it stayed undetected, that is.

Of course it would have been funnier to simply blast wretched music or unbearable noise, but then the speakers could easily be located. Therein lay the real genius of short clips played at a low, almost subtle, volume and at random intervals: it would be near impossible to determine where exactly the noise had come from before the speaker fell silent again.

The villain would never find anything without tearing the entire place apart; and, the first few times, the sounds might even seem mere figments of the imagination.

What a recipe for paranoia and anxiety.

They were already rather proud of this one, but they weren’t quite done yet …

With a sadistic smirk, they fetched their bottle of bitterant. Colourless and odourless and, as the name implied, disgustingly bitter. The stuff was meant to be used as nail polish to discourage nail biting, but Hero had decided to put it to even better use. They whistled an upbeat tune as they went over the contents of the fridge and applied the bitter liquid to all the villain’s vegetables and healthy snacks. Served that bitch right for throwing all the fast food away, again.

The lighting was next up on the agenda. Nothing flashy here. Just some occasional, quick flickering to add to the overall uncomfortable atmosphere. A few seconds at best at a time – never long enough to immediately warrant closer inspection.

Then came the TV. With just the right gadgets and a few tweaks it would develop a mind of its own and turn on by itself in the middle of the night with the volume turned all the way up. Given the villain’s proper sleeping routine, they were in for a bunch of rather unpleasant awakenings.

Snickering, Hero connected one last master time switch control to the system as a whole and set it to activate at a few minutes past noon tomorrow. If they were still around by then, they’d simply postpone the activation by 24 hours. And should the villain be the one to wake up tomorrow … well.

Time for some good, old-fashioned psychological terror.

———

To be continued...

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

taglist: @annablogsposts

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 1 year

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Field of Marigolds

Summary: Marc has been having bad dreams and Jake has been depressed. Can Steven find out why? Can he find a solution that won’t leave them all in deeper trouble? Steven asks questions about a culture that they all lost.

Warnings: Some depictions of child abuse/violence and panic attacks.

Word Count: 4714

Word Prompt: Reeds

-------

Golden. Quiet. Alone.

Marc had many dreams about the field of reeds since returning from Cairo. None of them good. A nightmare of being left alone for all eternity.

He would wake feeling despair as he crawled from the darkness, gasping out Steven’s name. There was always that moment of silence when he waited for Steven to wake up and respond. That moment of pure fear that perhaps this time he would be alone.

Then he would get the tired sounds of Steven mumbling his hello. The relief would wash over him and he would sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh.

When Jake made himself known and started to communicate with them, Marc had started to look back on his life and pick out the times when his memory gaps were most likely occupied by the quiet and over protective alter. Their memories were all still a mess, but some pieces were starting to at least make sense.

On mornings when he woke up in a panic, he would always still reach for Steven. The one that had always been there when he needed comfort, but sometimes he would wait to see if Jake might reach back too.

Fall had settled in and items of warmth and comfort were starting to make themselves more prominent in their flat. Steven insisted on filling his closet with oversized sweaters covered in patterns and colors that made Marc gag. Jake had switched out his lighter coat and gloves for something more solid and sustaining while Marc kept his usual attire, choosing to brave the cold and rain as he did everything else: Ignore it.

They were getting used to one another. Arguments about what to wear or how to style their hair cropped up but usually were quickly settled. Sometimes they argued over food or what to drink. In the span of a few months they had only had a couple of full melt downs where Layla had been forced to step in and break things up before someone did something stupid.

As fall carried on, Marc had noticed Jake becoming more agitated. He was quiet and clipped when spoken to. He shut them off when he fronted and sometimes Marc or Steven would front to find themselves in the middle of a park or somewhere random in the rain when Jake had decided he was done.

“What the hell is seasonal affective disorder?” Marc huffed as he pulled off the gloves and shoved them into his pockets. It was the second time in so many days where he had come to the front in the city. He had found himself staring in at a bakery window with brightly colored rolls with swirls and lines on the top.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Steven chimed in from the window reflection. “The sun starts to go away and you get depressed. Maybe he needs more vitamins or one of those special sun lights?”

“I doubt very much that Jake is affected by the lack of sun. The man works the nightshift for crying out loud.” Marc adjusted the cap and wished he were wearing his cubs hat. It had a better brim for keeping the rain out of his face.

Steven shrugged and glanced inside the bakery, trying to figure out what had made Jake decide to run. “Wouldn’t mind a sweet myself, since we’re here.”

“Not sure it’s vegan, buddy.” Marc checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. It was always so jarring to be left out in the cold by Jake. He never knew what he had on him or if he was supposed to go find the car or not.

“Maybe Layla would like a sweet.” Steven smiled. “Those look real good. And colorful!”

Marc sighed and went inside. Steven knew how to get Marc to do things he would normally scoff at. Steven loved grand gestures and buying Layla silly things that made her smile.

Marc paused in the doorway and looked around. It was a foreign shop, which wasn’t odd to see in London. Marc shrugged, though he suddenly felt himself on guard. There was something about the place that twinged at the back of his mind. Some memory that felt fuzzy and not quite his own floated just out of reach.

“Hola, Señor.” The shopkeep smiled brightly. A pot of bright orange flowers sat next to the register.

Suddenly Marc was swimming as he felt himself become untethered. Steven blinked hard as he was slammed into the driver’s seat. A sensation he had not felt in a long time as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

“M’alight.” Steven mumbled as he struggled to figure out what had happened. “Right. Uh… Hi. Sorry. Off day.” He nodded hello to the shop keep and smiled uncertainly. “I was hoping to get a few of those.” He pointed to the colorful rolls. “They are so pretty.”

“Pan dulce.” The man smiled. “Sweet bread. Those ones are called conchas in some places because they look like seashells. Very popular for children and pretty ladies.” He winked.

Steven nodded and picked out a couple in different colors. He hesitated as he saw an oddly shaped bread in the next display over. “What are those? They smell so nice! Zesty like oranges.”

“Ah, pan de muertos. A seasonal bread for this time of year.” The man nodded.

Steven looked up in surprise. “Muertos?”

“Yes.” The man smiled. “For day of the dead. A little something to honor our loved ones who are gone.”

“Oh…” Steven stared at the bread for a moment then shook his head. “Just the sweet breads, please.”

He checked out, looking down at the pretty orange flowers curiously as he handed over the cash. “Marigolds? Right? The flowers I mean. Those are marigolds? They don’t grow so well over here. They do best in the sun.”

It was difficult for Steven not to immediately info dump. He wanted to start up on Indian culture that used marigolds as a way to celebrate and worship. They were a symbol of brightness and the sun, placed around gods and goddesses and laid out in weddings and festive occasions. He was not as versed in this culture or mythology as he was Egyptology, so he made a mental note to freshen up a bit on it.

“Yes. From Mexico actually.” The shopkeeper looked sad. “I do miss them. My mother had a talent for growing them. She sold them to families this time of year. Gave them for free if they were mourning a child.”

“Oh…” Steven flushed. “That’s very kind of her…” He had gone for the happy use and completely overlooked the Latin American use. Strange how it had not come to his mind at all. Even stranger, how he had never thought to look any of that culture up.

Steven nodded and collected his bread. “Thank you.”

Leaving the shop he started the walk home. It took him a moment to gather what street he was on. Jake tended to wander into strange areas when out, while Steven liked to stay on the beaten path.

“Marc?” Steven quietly poked around. “You alright? We’re out of the shop now. Did you need a minute?”

He felt a rustle at the back of his mind and knew Marc was close enough to hear him but still unwilling to come out.

“Marc, are we Latin American?” Steven flushed at how odd the question sounded. “I mean, I’m English. But I suppose that’s all in my head, innit? I wasn’t born over here. My parents weren’t English. I’m Jewish. I know that. I remember school and prayer and temple and Dad a bit. Those memories are mine. I’ve at least managed to sort those out. But…”

Steven paused as he waited at a crosswalk with some other people. He liked to speak out loud. He loved the feel of using his own mouth and voice when speaking to Marc. It felt real if he spoke. It felt like he was a real person and not some voice floating in the void. He also understood what speaking out loud looked like to other people and often embarrassed himself. He was trying to get better at this part.

He thought about his question again as he crossed the street. How else was he to put it? “The body is Latin American.”

There was silence for a moment then Marc sighed and gave the smallest of shrugs. “Yeah. Really we’re from Chicago. You know that. The body is Chicago-ian.”

Steven frowned and felt a memory stirr. From the fuzzy detail, he knew it wasn’t his. As soon as it started it stopped, pushed back and shut off as Marc fell silent again.

Steven sensed Marc wanted him to drop it but a new curiosity had awakened inside him. This was something he didn’t yet know or understand. “Marigolds…” Steven looked up at the cross street names and took a hard turn as he made way for his favorite bookstore.

–

Golden.

So golden it warmed the very air. This time, it did not grow up around him, but spread out at his feet as if guiding him. Petals rolling gently past him and spreading out as if inviting him down a path.

He was not alone this time. Jake stood before him. He spoke softly, his voice carrying on a breeze that Marc could not feel.

“What?” Marc frowned as he only heard a garble of sounds he didn’t recognize. “I don’t understand.”

Jake spoke louder, faster. The sounds moved past him, unobtainable no matter how he reached for them.”

The wind picked up and a language he had long forgotten slammed into him. “I don’t understand.”

Jake held out a hand, pleading at first then growing angry as the Spanish turned accusatory.

“I don’t understand!” Marc yelled. He covered his ears. It was too golden here. Too warm. The flowers were glowing and blinding him.

Something moved in the flowers behind him. Turning, he found a familiar boy. The boy smiled. “Hermano.” It started to rain. “Te recuerdo.”

Marc jolted awake so hard that he shoved Layla and fell off the bed.

He lay on the floor, staring up at the window across the room, watching the London rain pitter patter down the glass.

“Marc? What the hell?” Layla mumbled sleepily. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been terrified of the rain.

Something inside him clenched down in fear and he covered his ears to block out the sound.

He heard Layla shift on the bed and felt her presence as she leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at him. “Hey? You alright?”

His mouth moved on its own. “Perdí a alguien.”

Layla blinked. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Marc shook his head and closed his eyes. “Stop it. Stop. I don’t want to hear it! I don’t speak fucking Spanish!”

Marc could hear the sound of the rain flowing down the gutter and into the street. Washing everything away. Flooding the field of flowers.

His eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. A groggy Steven blinked awake and stared up at Layla. “Hmnh? What are you doing up there? Wait… What am I doing down here? What’s going on?”

Layla sighed and reached out to help pull him back up into the bed. “I have no idea. I think someone had a bad dream? I’m not sure who. There was Spanish and then Marc had a panic attack for about a second before you got here.” She gave an apologetic smile. “It happened really fast.”

“Spanish?” Steven snuggled into her and buried his face in his pillow. “What Spanish?”

“Pretty Alyen?”

Steven turned his head in his pillow just enough to look at her with one eye.

She flushed and looked away. “English is not my first language! I speak three other languages and Spanish is not one of them!”

Steven groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “I think Jake is upset about something. It’s upsetting Marc too, but I don’t think Marc understands why or what it is.”

“And you don’t know what any of it could be?” She moved to gently stroke his back.

Steven shook his head into the pillow. “Wish I did. Whatever it is, it’s between them. I have no memory of any of that. Being English and all…”

He could hear her chewing her lower lip. It was something she did when unsure about something or thinking about something she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up.

He had to hand it to her, since coming back to London and staying with them, she had asked very few questions. Maybe she was worried she would ask the wrong ones. She had certainly learned a lot and taken in a lot in the span of a very short time. Especially with Jake entering the picture.

Steven looked back at her and moved to take a hand, holding it gently to his chest. “Love, just ask. It’s okay to ask. I promise I won’t be mad. None of us will be mad if you ask.”

“Why does Jake speak spanish?” She looked at him curiously. “I’ve never heard Marc speak Spanish. You certainly don’t. You know more French than Spanish from what I can gather. He must have picked it up from somewhere. You can’t just form as a person knowing a language. You have to be around it.”

Steven lay there for a moment thinking about the question. He reached out, trying to see if Marc or Jake were near the surface. When he found both buried deep inside, he sighed.

“Mom was Latin American. I don’t know from where or how many generations back. She spoke Spanish sometimes. Mostly on the phone to relatives. I think we must have met them at some point. I have no memories of this. I didn’t know I was… The body was… Hispanic, too.” He had gone through a complicated day of emotions when he had learned all this. Marc had refused to talk about any of it so he had been forced to coerce it out of Jake, which had taken him hours to get just this much. Jake had finally shared the memory of listening to her talk on the phone in rapid fire Spanish.

Between the three of them, Steven still didn’t fully understand. He would have to do more research into it later. The hard part was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do the research. It had been kept from him for a reason. It wasn’t part of his own backstory or memories.

“I’m a fictive.” Steven didn’t like thinking about it. “My memories are… If it doesn’t fit my story to make me then I don’t have them.” He pulled the pillow down and hugged it for a moment, finding comfort in the weight and feel of it.

“Hey.” Layla moved closer and hugged him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to know.” Steven frowned. “I want to know why they are so upset. I want to help them.”

Layla was quiet a moment. “Sometimes I worry I will forget my own language.”

Steven looked at her in surprise.

“When I left Egypt I didn’t speak Arabic for over a year. Not even once. Not even when I was alone with myself.” She gently stroked his arm, tracing the familiar muscles and lines she found there. “When we went back I stumbled on my words. I spoke slower. It took me almost an hour before I got back into my normal rhythm. It was scary. I felt like I was losing a part of myself. Like I had let my heritage down. Like I was letting my father down. Like I was forgetting him.”

Steven fidgeted with the pillow, trying to hide his distress. “You should never feel that way. He was so proud of you!”

“I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “It came back to me. It just… For that hour I looked at myself and didn’t know who I was.”

“Do you think Marc forgot? Do you think he used to know Spanish?” Steven blinked. “Is that where Jake comes from? But why? Why would he take it all? Why does he hold onto it so hard when it comes from such a place of hurt?”

Layla shrugged. “Jake is complicated. So is Marc. I don’t understand what goes on between them. Something is upsetting one of them and the other isn’t exactly helping.”

Steven nodded then remembered the flowers. “What’s today?”

Layla reached across him to grab her phone from the side table. “October 31st. Happy Halloween I suppose.”

Steven made a face. “I hate scary things. I’m the worst fictive ever.”

Layla laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “You are fearless where it matters.”

He smiled a little. “Thank you, love.”

He squeezed the pillow then moved to nestle into her side. “I have an idea. I don’t think they’re going to like it. It might be a terrible idea, honestly. There’s a good chance it could backfire and well… If you thought Chernobyl was a meltdown disaster…”

“You’re saying you want me as support just in case I need to intervene?” She looked at him curiously.

Steven nodded. “If I upset Marc that much and then I also upset Jake, I might be flying solo for a day or two. They might never speak to me again!” He suddenly looked scared. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t think I can handle that. I hate when they cut me out.”

“Steven, do what you think is best to help them, but don’t worry so much. They love you and would never shut you out forever. I trust you to take care of them.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

He nodded and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Layla sighed. “Marc always has his nightmares at this hour. It’s like he knows that this is the perfect hour to ruin a perfectly good sleep schedule.”

“In the morning, I need to run to the store and pick up a few items. Then I need to do some more research.” This was going to take him all day, but he hoped it was worth it.

–

The house smelled like warm bread and oranges. Steven had returned to the bakery and purchased some pan de muerto. He had also found a small toy in a shop that he couldn’t pass up.

Sliding out a table, he placed a newly purchased children’s blanket over it then set out a plate of the bread. A cup of orange juice was set next to it. Something he thought might compliment the orange zest of the bread nicely.

A small tea candle was lit and he placed the toy to the side, a little astronaut waving nicely.

He had printed out a baseball pennant for the Chicago Cubs and carefully cut it out, taping it to the wall above the table.

Lastly, he set a couple of marigold flowers on the table. He had explained the situation to the man at the bread shop and he had practically thrust the whole pot of flowers at Steven. Steven had politely declined but had asked for just a couple of clippings.

Stepping back, he sighed. “It looks pitiful.”

Layla shook her head. “I think it looks lovely, Steven. Go ahead. See if they are ready.”

Steven nudged around. Of course he found Marc first, easily pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“What’s going on? What time is it?” Marc looked from Layla to the table. “What is this?”

“It’s midnight. Steven wanted to try something. Don’t be mad at him.” She gave him a stern look. “He worked hard at this.

Marc frowned and moved closer. A memory tugged, but it wasn’t his. Refused to be his. He pushed back from it and crossed his arms. “Why would he bother? Waste of time.” He moved as if to blow out the candle then stopped when he saw the little waving astronaut.

His hand lifted in a returned wave.

“Abuelita had one of these.” He gestured at the table dismissively. “Bigger. Better looking too. More flowers.” Marc crossed his arms and looked away. “We had to pay respects every year. It was Importante. Mom wouldn’t put one up.” He struggled to get the words out, fighting against the desire to shut down. “I asked dad… If I could. I wanted to… She threw the flowers…” His breathing started to grow erratic.

His breathing stilled in an instant as Jake blinked in, looking around for a moment to take in the table.

He picked up a flower and slowly spun it between his fingers, watching the petals rotate. He mumbled something in Spanish then set the flower back down gingerly.

“Are you okay?” Layla asked softly.

Jake inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. “Yes. I think so.”

“Is Marc okay?” She was always hesitant to ask.

Jake took a moment. “Yeah. We always wanted an Ofrenda. Abuelita’s was so beautiful. The candles and the flowers… We loved the stories she told as she lit each candle for each person. When Randall died, we tried to set up our own. We thought he deserved to be with all the pretty lights and flowers.”

Layla was quiet as Jake shifted on his feet slightly. He had a way of speaking of their bad memories like a casual observer. She knew he was far from partial to it all. There was always barely simmering rage just under the surface of them, waiting to smother out the pain that threatened to rise up.

He put his hands in his pockets for a moment, remembering what Marc could not. The screams. The rage. The overturned table. The flower pot crashing into his head as it flew across the room. The bloody gash that needed stitches. The lies at the doctors office that he had told. It was not the first time Jake had taken over to protect them, but it was the first memory that he had closed off as his own.

“We never had one again. Marc stopped speaking Spanish after that. Refused to do anything from her side of the family. I don’t blame him.” Jake shrugged and picked up the small astronaut, looking it over. He then looked up at the baseball banner and single candle.

Realization hit him and he dropped the toy. “It’s not for him…” Jake breathed out. “It’s for us.”

Steven slowly surfaced. “We died, didn’t we? We lost everything when we were so young. Don’t you think that we deserve to be remembered too? When we were one? One heart struggling to survive?”

“Yeah… We did die.” Marc bent and picked up the toy, holding it tightly.

“I read that an important part of today is to not just have pictures, but to tell stories. To talk about your memories and be happy for them.” Steven gave a small smile. “I don’t think I remember anything real. I just remember our room. Kinda like this.” He set the spaceman back down and lightly traced a finger on the Cubs banner. “I liked the colors. I don’t think I knew what they were for, but I liked the triangular shape and colors.”

Jake smiled and realized the blanket on the ofrenda was a kid’s race car blanket. “We had a race car bed. We used to roll over and kick the side every night, but we refused to admit we needed a bigger bed. We colored a paper plate like a steering wheel and kept it under the pillow.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah. There was a telescope. Thought we could be an explorer out there or something. Weren’t any good at remembering the names of the constellations, but we could find them.”

“I remember that.” Steven smiled. “We found the Little Dipper every night.”

“You know, we used to hate milk.” Marc made a face. “Or was that just me?”

“Milk is right disgusting.” Steven made the same face.

“You two are idiotas. Milk is wonderful! Prefer it in my coffee to creamer.” Jake huffed. “Do you remember the little candies Abuelita used to give us?”

“Red hots.” Marc groaned. “Basically candy coated cinnamon pain.”

“I keep a pack of them in my car.” Jake grinned.

“I have a memory of getting into a jar of jalapenos once.” Steven shuddered. “Was that real?”

“Oh god.” Marc chuckled. “Her homemade pickled Jalapenos. She hid them up on the top of the cabinet. DId we really eat half the jar?”

“We ate the whole jar. We puked.” Jake nodded.

Steven cringed. “Is that why I can’t look at a pickled jalapeno without gagging?”

“I’d do it again.” Jake smiled smugly. “Those were the best damn jalapenos I ever had.”

They laughed softly and watched the candle flicker for a moment, remembering hazy moments that weren’t quite clear to them. Piecing together moments that some only had bits to and correcting memories that were almost forgotten.

Marc turned to Layla after a moment. “Would you mind… Find us another candle?”

She blinked in surprise and moved to get one from the kitchen. “Who is this one for?”

“Randall.” Marc set it down next to the first one and carefully lit it. “I don’t have any pictures, but I think it’s time he was properly honored.”

“We never got to attend his funeral or Shiva.” Jake whispered. “She made sure of that.”

“Yeah.” Marc sighed. “I don’t know how much of him you remember… But I’d like to share…”

“I didn’t even know I had one.” Steven looked down sadly.

“I have some images…” Jake shook his head. “Not really connected with good things.” Memories that were locked away so completely that he made sure none of them had access to them.

“Let’s fix that.” Marc moved to sit down and beckoned Layla over. Once they were all settled, Marc took a slow breath.

“I had a younger brother named Randall. He was a pain. Always taking my toys and wanting to color. But any time I wanted to play pretend, he was right there with me.” Marc took Layla’s hand and held it tightly.

They talked for hours and ate the bread together, telling stories of what he could remember of his younger brother and growing up with him. It was the most Marc had ever let himself remember before. There were a surprising number of good memories.

Now and then, Jake would add in a detail Marc had missed. Something small that made the memory more real. Steven had even added in a detail he was surprised to remember, though he lacked the context.

By the end, they were exhausted, curling up on the couch with Layla and fading in and out of sleep.

“Thank you for sharing.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You should get some rest.”

“I know it isn’t really your culture or anything…” Steven nervously looked up at her. “The holiday does last all day and ends on the second… If you wanted to… You could tell us about your father. Marc says it’s okay if you share. Jake says it’s okay to put his photo up if you like.”

Layla thought about it for a moment then nodded. “It’s about honoring family, isn’t it? I think I would like that… Adding my memories to yours…”

Steven smiled and closed his eyes. “A path of Marigolds to lead us to the field of reeds. I think it would be lovely if we could all be there together next time…”

Marc dreamed. Gold and orange mixing in the silence. He wasn’t alone this time. The silence was broken by the sound of Jake humming softly, playing a guitar somewhere in the reeds. Next to him Steven looked around with wide eyes as he took in the colorful sky. He was buzzing and babbling about the history of the reeds.

Marc breathed a sigh of relief. He hated the silence. Smiling, he sat back and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of family.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Layla El Faouly #MoonKnightober2022 #MKtober2022 #Prompt word reeds #Dia de los muertos fic #I used to steal jalapenos from my abuelia #Ate the whole jar #She was not a small woman and laughed when we called her Abuelita cause she was six foot one #THIS IS THE LAST OF THE OCTOBER CHALLANGE #Didn't finish it but I planned to end on this one from the start so here we are #ta-dah

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mental-mario · 4 months

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Sibling Rivalry, Favoritism, and Multiplayer

Hey all, it's been an upsetting week for me, not gonna lie. I'm gonna skip the spiel and just get into it, so I'll just say that if you can relate then please Like and Follow and be sure to tip your struggling blogger. Also I'm lonely and need friends, so send me a request on Switch and message me on here as well! My mental issues make it difficult for me to sustain friendships, but I'd love a pen pal or 10k of them!

I'll be opening up more about things as I get more comfortable with this whole self-awareness and vulnerability thing, so subscribe and bear with me, but let's just say for now as a quick background that my mother is a narcissist, my dad is the flying monkey, my brother is the golden boy, and he married a conniving narcissist as well, so as to continue the cycle of abuse to his two kids. I am the damaged scapegoat who is trying to navigate away to healthier dynamics for my spouse and kids. I'm currently no-contact with my brother and his family as well as my mother and any relatives whatsoever. I do meet up with my dad occasionally for pancakes, but it is very much about sticking heads in the sand and pretending like we aren't estranged. I was no-contact with him as well until my wife informed him I was in the psych ward a couple months ago. I'm willing to answer questions as we go...

Anyway, he recently sent me $500 since I finally got up the nerve to put my pride and ego aside and outright ask him for help; something that has been instilled as a big source of shame for me to ever do because my mom especially would verbally berate me about how incompetent I am and how I would die alone and unwanted. Anyways, I digress, you may be asking what I would have to complain about? While I am thankful for any help I can get, let's just say $500 is chump change when it comes to my parents. They have money that I have been long since cut off from but that my brother and his family still very much access unabashedly, at the age of 32. I am 38. Also important to note is that he works a lucrative career where he has been able to make similar or better money as me over the past decade. The difference has been that my wife and I have been smart and careful with our money, while they have spent it recklessly. I always tend to leave out background details inadvertently, so I'm trying to recall as much as I can so as to not sound like unjustified soured grapes.

After years of no contact, our wives started communicating again, and it eventually got to where they decided to move to the south where we had relocated, originally in order to get away from them all. I wasn't thrilled about this, but I didn't want to deny my wife a chance at a friendship. My brother was reluctant to move here too, for reasons that I will get into someday as I work up the nerve to do so. My mom said I should take that said reason to the grave, but I'm not going to do that. They lived in an apartment for 6 months while making excellent money, by most people's standards, but they then exited out of the lease and moved into my parents' house, yet again, rent free, until they could buy a house of their own (or at least, that was how it was phrased to me when I decided to go nc with my parents yet again, due to the emotional pain of yet again seeing him and his family completely chosen over me and mine). They had to get out of their lease because they are assholes and got a bit too brazen with their neighbors. Despite being brazen in the past with neighbors who produced guns in their faces, they still find it rather funny to try and cave their downstairs neighbor's ceiling in by purposely jumping around as hard as they could out of spite. So long story short, another awful neighbor who couldn't take a joke decided to make them feel less than safe for their choices.

With the money and assets they have, there should've been no reason why they couldn't just pivot into another short term lease or something, but my parents ate up the chance to get into that abusive dynamic yet again, telling themselves that they couldn't let their son and his family go homeless (I can't say that without laughing because that is hardly the only other choice in this scenario). Regardless, we have come back into this situation because my parents decided to move those who we are once again no longer in contact with into their own house, essentially choosing a side once again. Of course, the explanation evolved from this being a temporary thing to suddenly they can't afford a down payment on anything because they don't have any money saved, meaning they would be living with them indefinitely. My only satisfaction in this was knowing that my mom's vicious lap dog, who she refuses to rehome because she spent $6k from a breeder, would be biting the shit out of all of them. Despite the dog being a barrier to letting my kids stay over my parents or anything of the sort, you can at least cordon a dog off for someone to visit. Sadly, they refuse to kennel my brother's wife.

Anyways, my spouse has some acquaintances in the real estate industry, since we have bought and sold a number of homes over the years. She got a message from one of them, asking her if she was aware how terribly entitled and obnoxious her in-laws are. Despite having to search numerous banks for a loan due to their awful credit rating, they still have the nerve to act like they are rich and powerful somehow. They were apparently searching originally for a house priced in the $300's but could not get a mortgage unless my parents cosigned and put up their retirement assets as collateral. They refused that, but they did cosign a mortgage for $200k. This after having always told me about how they would never cosign a loan for anyone ever. So basically, my parents bought my fully grown ass brother and his family a house, because when push comes to shove they will definitely stop paying the mortgage payment and could care less if they force my parents into doing so. Of course, I am sitting on this knowledge since before I was gifted $500 by my parents, and my parents won't ever tell me they did this. To answer your question, if you are asking it, I do intend to call my dad out on this, and it may be the last time I ever speak to him, depending on how that conversation goes.

My parents for the longest time would act like they did so evenly for both their kids and their grandkids, but I've called them out on that enough over the years so that they don't even make that claim anymore. From money to time spent to emotional support (if you can call it that), his family got 99.9%, and I'm an ingrate to complain about not getting my 0.1%. To clarify, I could care less except for the impact it all has had on my kids, but I do acknowledge that it's a blessing in disguise that my kids are growing up without that toxic influence so prevalent in their lives. Just makes me sad because if they would cosign a $200k mortgage for me like that, I'd be set for life, but bro's family gets rewarded for their recklessness while mine gets punished for trying to do things "the right way."

I want to shift gears now before I become too bitter, but I will just ask you to comment or message me, do you have experience with being the black sheep? If so, how's it going? Conversely, do you have experience being the golden child and self-aware of it? How has that been like for you??

To channel my inner Cranky Kong: kids these days experience multiplayer gaming far different than we did as young bloods. In my day *groans as he shifts in his recliner* multiplayer meant your friend or sibling played a single player game while you waited and rooted for them to screw up so you could have your turn to play! SMB3 made some progress in this by establishing a cooperative level progression, despite continuing the alternating turns system of play, but it was still waiting impatiently for your turn to play. Other games that did have simultaneous co-op could be frustrating if you had a younger sibling who couldn't hold up to your skill level. Nowadays, you got co-op where players don't get in each other's way, and you even got games that are accessible for players who can't coordinate keeping the acceleration button held down in Mario Kart. I may sound like I'm complaining, but I assure you this is quite the opposite. I might have had better interpersonal relationships growing up if it was more about this level of inclusive play and bonding rather than the confusing cooperative yet competitive setup that led to a rather passive aggressive style of friendships and relationships that I experienced.

A quick update before I wrap this up: I will be going away for a couple of weeks without access to internet, so know that I am okay during this time and will post more when I get back. I would like to ask, has anyone reading this ever called the suicide hotline, and what was that experience like for you? I have not yet called, but I do have them in my contacts (it's 988 in the US for anyone who doesn't know).

The holiday season is filled with controlling propaganda for family, friends, and other such obligations disguised as tradition, so if you are like me and can't conform to society's expectations, just know you aren't alone and that this is a safe spot to share and discuss. You don't have to feel shame and guilt for putting your own health and quality of life first. Trauma sucks, but we all have it. Understand that your own personal experience is valid and that you aren't lesser than anyone else. I hope you are able to find peace and comfort this season in your spirituality because that's far stronger than worrying about the company you keep, possessions you have, or living a lifestyle by others' standards. What's the point in living that way if it just adds to your stress? Family sucks, and that is why I have opted out. If you are considering doing the same but haven't yet, I hope you survive this year. If you are considering breaking free, I'm happy to lend a friendly ear and chat!

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incomingalbatross · 2 years

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"The Librarians and the Disenchanted Forest":

I think Eve is trying to give Flynn's resignation the benefit of the doubt by saying "it was to cut down the number of Librarians," but A) you don't know that because he didn't talk to you, B) Jenkins, who DID hear more of his doubts pre-resignation, thought he was mainly freaking out about the tethering (which, to be clear, is valid but different), and C) Eve. Why would you TELL the children about the Librarian Civil War like it was a legitimate concern, this isn't helping.

And again, if Flynn were really willing to resign over the civil war concerns, there are better solutions than "make the others resign too"! You have three left then—one can tether, one can be the mortal Librarian, and the one left should at least see if they could get reassigned to Guardian. Then you have two pairs, one active, and one tethered, and everything is status quo.

(Though, again, I really don't see WHY this is such a concern. Yes, one of them could go evil! A sole Librarian could also go evil just as easily, right? What, because the joint Librarians were corrupted last time, they automatically will in this case too? I'm with Jenkins, this whole thing is silly.)

Yes, Eve, talking SENSE. As I expected! Fate and Destiny and Prophecy are immeasurably weaker than Eve's stubborn drive to hold on to her family. That's how it works.

HOWEVER. Genuinely and unironically responding to her magic family-team's internal Fate and Destiny and Prophecy-fueled internal crisis by dragging them to a team-building retreat is SO FUNNY. And somehow also very Eve.

I mean yes, technically the Library sent them to a team-building retreat, but Eve is using it.

"I hate camp" Ezekiel, have you... have you been to summer camp? When? How?

Cassandra "my urge to recapture my missed childhood is drowning out literally everything else" Cillian is a very refreshing switch from the Crisis.

Throw three geniuses and one very competitive Colonel into a puzzle competition and everything else is instantly forgotten. Of course.

Yyyyeah, telling Spooky Indian Campfire Stories around Stone is not going to go smoothly. Saw that coming.

Okay, Ezekiel's starting to genuinely not have a good time I think. Maybe two pranks is his limit.

"When did I become the adult?" Good question, Ezekiel! Precedent suggests some kind of personality-altering magic may be at work on everyone else.

Stone: "OH NO. A PRETTY GIRL QUOTING POETRY. MY TWO WEAKNESSES"

I... think this is the first time Ezekiel has ever said something he was doing wasn't fun. Wow.

Oh right, I guess DOSA does still exist. :/

Oh hey, a Lois Lane! They're always trouble.

Aww, Ezekiel and Cassandra. :( I see where they're both coming from... (and honestly, I think they're just two different responses to the same problem of No Childhood)

Oh, the trees are attacking? Fun if true.

Ezekiel has at some point taught Stone to pick locks.

...Combined with the fact that we know he gave Jenkins lockpicks for Christmas... has Ezekiel at some point given Lockpicks and Training Therein to all his teammates? Was this his one-size-fits-all Christmas present one year, or did he just do it gradually as occasion arose?

Eve: HOW DARE ROMANCE EXIST. ROMANCE IS BAD. ONLY THE TEAM EXISTS

"I took Flynn back every time" Eve, I love you, Flynn absolutely should have talked to you, and also I understand you're not obligated to be a 100% reliable narrator right now. But... half the time you break up with him.

Bro, you can't show the investigative reporter the Magical Secret World she's been searching for and then tell her she can never reveal its existence. That's not fair.

"Librarians can't have personal lives" I know Flynn is a convincing case study, but. Charlene was married for a while. I think it's at least possible for your everyday Librarian to work out something sustainable.

#a distraction of librarians

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thechangeling · 2 years

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I remember the minute

This is a fic about my OC Janessa Williams being an enneagram eight. Speaking of eights I wanted to somehow reference Alastair in here so bad but it just wasn't working.

I highly reccomend listening to Eight by Sleeping at past while reading this!

Cw: Mentions of transphobia and ableism, mentions of canon typical violence and murders.

There are some parts of your brain that you never really turn off. Especially if you grew up stuck in in survival mode. It's almost like your brain gets stuck in fight or flight. Like a switch was flipped and it doesn't know how to switch off.

For Janessa this manifested as becoming a bigger threat then those who wanted to hurt her. Growing up as a trans kid in foster care she had to learn to make herself scary. Someone no one would fuck with. She channelled her anger at the world, at her parents where ever they were, at everyone and let it out like a harnessed storm. Like a weapon.

There was no such thing as living only surviving. She desperately wanted friends as a kid but when you were at war, they were a luxury you couldn't afford. And even when she thought she could risk it she usually ended up driving people away. Because people thought she was too weird, she talked too much or obsessed over stupid things. Whatever. Being alone was better.

Or at least that was what she had convinced herself. Deep down Janessa knew that she wanted other things then just surviving. She wished she could experience the world and have fun. Buy fancy pretty clothes and go to parties or travel. But more than anything she wanted to make music. Singing and playing guitar was pretty much the only thing that calmed her mind sometimes. And playing video games.

She had always chosen to play as a female character when no one was looking, for as long as she could remember. And Janessa never really questioned why. And then one day she did.

She chose the name Janessa from one of her favorite video games. Getting people to use it was actually pretty hard though. There were some people in her school or at the doctor's office that did genuinely try. And then some people who just spat in her face. She had always felt this profound despair throughout her entire life. And yeah some of that was dysphoria and the loneliness that came from being bothered by everyone she met, but it was also something else something deeper.

Things just seemed so much harder for her then everyone else. It was like her brain was running on a totally different frequency. It was always either too fast or too slow. She barely graduated high school, but managed to get a music scholarship at a local college. Aging out of the system at 18 meant she could start HRT without parental consent and it wasn't like any of the assholes who fostered her would let her. It was free in Ontario but wait times were still shit though.

In order to get fast tracked you had to pay out of pocket which had led to Nessie doing some slightly less than legal things to make that money. Sometimes when you get backed into a corner you don't have a choice.

Story of her fucking life.

Shit kinda hit the fan after she turned 19 though. She had a hard time showing up for class on time and getting her assignments done. It only got worse as time went on. She just couldn't focus. Her life became less about surviving and more about escaping. Partying, drugs, sex, anything she could do to distract herself was amazing in her book. She threw herself into whatever she could as long as she kept moving.

She got into activism, not so much because she cared about making the world better but because she wanted revenge. It was a place to let loose all her anger at the systems of power that hurt her, at all the people who treated her like trash.

But anger can only sustain you for so long.

And then she became a monster.

Nessie was camped out on her favorite spot in the LA institute, the kitchen counter, drinking blood out of her bisexual coloured plastic starbucks cup when she heard the sound of laughter coming from the hall.

"By the angel! Stop it Dru. You're impossible!"

Janessa knew that voice. She loved that voice.

Thaís.

"No seriously you know I'm right!" She heard another voice say, raspier and more relaxed. It was Drusilla.

The two of them had gone out for dinner for some "bestie time" as Dru put it and Janessa was absolutely not sitting around waiting for Thaís to get back. Nope absolutely not, that would be pathetic.

Nessie hopped down gracefully and made her way to the kitchen door.

"No, look see this is you," Dru said playfully but clearly still trying to make a point. She then flopped dramatically onto a nearby sofa and tossed her head back. Thaís rolled their eyes.

"Oh look at my poor poor neck! All bare and exposed!" She pressed a hand to her chest. "It sure would be a shame if somebody were to...bite me."

"I hate you," Thaís said good naturedly with a giggle.

Janessa felt a strange sinking sensation watching the scene unfold. She knew it was just a stupid joke and it was no big deal. But there was truth in what Dru had said. Thaís thought they were living some twilight-esqe sapphic fairytale. They were a Carmilla obsessed lesbian who had quotes from the book saved and screenshoted on their phone. Except what made things even worse was that Thaís wasn't a helpless lamb. They weren't a mundane, they were a freaking shadowhunter. And yet still Thaís didn't understand what Janessa really was. What she had done.

And how the hell could they when you never told them dumbass?

She wasn't exactly a relationships person. Mostly on account of the fact getting her to open up was like prying open a rusted lock. And Nessie refused to apologize for it. Being strong was how she kept herself safe. She had only ever been in one other serious relationship besides Thaís.

Her name was Yvonne and she was another sapphic trans woman. Janessa met her in college, back when she was still human. And things were rough but Yvonne made the days seem a little brighter. She was sweet, optimistic and confident, always trying to take care of people. She had so much love to give and Nessie couldn't handle it. The intensitity, the vulnerability. Any of it.

So before she could be hurt or left, Janessa ruined it.

Nessie was now faced with the slightly awkward problem of wondering if she should stay in the kitchen and wait until they left or announce her presence. The decision was made for her when Thaís started making their way towards the kitchen and Nessie flattened herself against the wall on instinct. She didn't need to breath so in most cases she could hide pretty easily.

Fuck. She hated this. Hiding from Thaís like a coward. It wasn't her usual style. Janessa was confrontational as Thaís so wonderfully put it. A nice way of saying aggressive and pushy.

A while back Mari had gotten them all into the enneagram. Basically a way of analyzing your motivations and how you interacted with the world.

Nessie was an eight. The Challenger they called it.

The protector, Kit would say. She was always trying to protect all of them, her friends. Her only real ties to humanity other than Thaìs.

Speaking of, they had started humming while pouring a glass of water. And Nessie recognized it almost immediately.

The song was one of hers.

Janessa grit her teeth and focused on not letting her emotions affect her. She couldn't let herself be weak. More than anything she wanted to let Thaís in. To tell them everything.

But she couldn't. She knew what would happen and Nessie just couldn't fucking let it. She refused to be rejected. She waited until Thaís was gone to wash her empty cup and leave the kitchen. Dru and Thaís were camped out on the couches, still chatting enthusiastically, so she snuck by them and up the stairs in a blur.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she realized that Kit was sitting outside the bedroom he and Ty shared down the hall. He gave her an exhausted smile.

"Hey babes." Nessie took her spot beside Kit and slid down the wall. "What's going on? Did your boy kick you out?"

Kit shook his head. "Nah, nightmares again. I didn't wanna wake him up."

Janessa sighed and draped an arm around his shoulder. She thought about asking if he wanted to talk about it but she knew what the answer would be. Not that she could talk. Nessie was pretty much the same.

"What about you?" Kit asked. She turned her head to face him. "Isn't it kinda early for you to be going to bed?"

"I wasn't," she admitted. "I was.. I was sort of avoiding Thaís."

Kit instantly looked concerned. Janessa turned back ahead to avoid the intensity of his stare.

"Why? What did they do?"

She let out a humourless laugh. "They didn't do anything Kit-Kat. It's my fault. I'm a coward."

Kit scoffed. "Bullshit. You're like the bravest, most badass person I know."

And it stung more then she would like to admit hearing Kit talk about her like that. Like she was some kind of hero. Kit saw her as his protector, as the white knight of the story. But he didn't know any better. He didn't know the truth.

Janessa steeled herself against her emotions. "No I'm not. I'm a murderer."

"And if I tell Thaís, they're gonna hate me."

The silence that fell over them in that moment was excruciating. Nessie really didn't wanna look at Kit but she still forced herself to do it anyway.

He just looked confused. Did he not believe her?

Typical, stubborn Kit.

She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she developed as a kid when she was punished for fidgeting in more obvious ways. "It's not like I wanted to be you know? In the beginning I wasn't exactly planning on becoming a monster. For the longest time I wanted to be good. I wanted to fight for the people who needed it, people like me who were suffering." Nessie could feel a lump in her throat. She fought past it.

She would not cry. She would not cry.

Kit's expression had shifted from confusion to something else. Disgust? Anger? She couldn't say. But it wasn't good.

Janessa sighed. "I guess i've always been the kinda girl who just gets so lost in the noise. I get caught up in the moment and forget to think, forget to process what I'm actually doing you know? When I was alive, I was always chasing the next big thing, the next party, the next hit, the next cause. I didn't know why, it was before I knew I had ADHD. I just knew that if I stopped moving I would die.

Kit took a deep shaky breath. Nessie could see tears in his eyes. She kept going anyways.

"And when I died I became a stomach. And I was still chasing that hit. The rush of adrenaline as I chased them through alleyways and the satisfying surge in dopamine when I suck my teeth into them. And I just never stopped to think. Never let myself feel. I just kept moving. And I never looked back at the victims."

Kit looked completely dumbfounded. He shook his head slightly. "But- but why?"

Why? That was s good question. One that she honestly still didn't fully have the answer to. And all the ones that she could come up with weren't good enough. That she was hungry? That she wasn't thinking? Or maybe she was just so angry and broken and tired of hurting that she wanted to make someone else hurt for a change, regardless of whether they actually deserved it.

It was humiliating, knowing that she had just given up like that. But at the time it hadn't seemed that way.

Janessa sighed staring up at the ceiling as if she could find the answer plastered there. "The thing is when you turn, everyone else around you starts to look so damn small. You've become something different, and it's not really like you think your better then them more like you start seeing them as beneath you. You stop seeing them as people instead of food. You start to forget that you used to be one of them."

"So what changed?" Kit's voice sounded rough like sandpaper.

She met his gaze again. She was fully prepared for his rage, his hatred. But Kit just looked sad. And Nessie felt this stupid urge to apologize. But what good would that do? She wasn't even sure she could. She couldn't remember the last time she had apologized for anything.

But she wanted to apologize to Kit. For not being what he wanted, what he needed. And to show him that she meant it.

What had changed?

Janessa sighed and twisted herself, readjusting her knees so she was turned around to fully face him. "Honestly, I realized that I didn't like who I was anymore. I had fought for so fucking long to be who I really was and then I just destroyed her. And I had no excuses, not really. Sure I was in pain but so are a lot of people. It didn't give me the right to hurt anyone." She paused.

"I guess I just decided it was enough. And I know I can't fix it. I can't bring those people back. All I can do now is try to be better. Save lives when I can, help people, protect you." She swallowed. "I get it if you don't wanna see me again but I will always protect you."

Nessie wasn't sure what she was expecting Kit to do, but throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tightly wasn't it. She let out a little gasp of surprise as she felt his body crash into hers.

"Don't ever say that," he murmered into her hair. "I'll always want to see you Nessie."

And that finally broke the dam. The tears that she had been suppressing for so long finally came streaming down her face. Hearing her cry only made Kit hold her tighter. She sobbed into his neck, finally letting the pain of the past 21 years come rushing out.

Kit finally pulled back and looked her dead in the eye, gently wiping the tears from her face. "Listen to me," he murmed. "You are my best friend. It doesn't matter to me what you've done in your past. It's over, and if you need someone to forgive you then I do ok? I forgive you and I love you." He smiled sadly at her. "Until the day I die."

Janessa let out an embarrassing little whine as her heart constricted. She didn't want to think about Kit dying. She knew deep down that one day she would lose him but she could still pretend that wasn't happening. At least for now.

She rubbed her thumb across his cheek. "I will love you forever and ever Kit-Kat."

He rolled his eyes. "Well of course you had to get all competitive about it."

She laughed, carefully wiping her eyes to avoid smearing her eyeliner.

"Listen, I think you should talk to Thaís," said Kit. "I can't promise they won't be mad or freaked out but keeping this a secret is only gonna make you feel like shit. Believe me I know."

Nessie sighed. Kit was right. She couldn't keep hiding this from them. She had to face what she had done and deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

Even if they never talked to her again. She could survive it. She had to.

She could survive anything.

Authors note: Thaís is 18 in all of my fics because I completely forgot they were 16 like and idiot and now I can't change it so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Tagging: @lavender-scented-rat @littlx-songbxrd @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @amchara @wagner-fell @sandersgrey @the-wckd-powers @spooky-drusilla @ellexu

#twp #tsc #janessa is my oc #janessa williams #kit herondale #drusilla blackthorn #thaís pedroso

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