#always open to new prompts

[foreveranevilregal]

Pepa with insomnia? And how it affects Felix?

I'm back! I know I took a bit of a break from writing, but I'm back to doing prompts. This was a really fascinating idea; I loved delving into how her anxiety spills into insomnia. It's more of a character study, but I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you like it!

It was happening again. The dreams. One minute she was sound asleep, the next she was bolting upright, chest heaving from her jagged breaths. There would be no getting back to sleep. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, planting her feet on the ground.

He must have sensed the shift in the mattress; the way it dipped lower before rising abruptly. A hand reached out towards her. “Can’t sleep again?” He murmured sleepily.

“No,” she answered quietly. Her hand closed over his, giving it a quick squeeze. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

And sorry she was, she reflected; standing up and turning to face her still sleeping husband, whose body sprawled over half the bed, yet did not encroach on the space meant to be hers. Space that was rapidly cooling, leaving the hand resting there touching cold sheets.

She was familiar with the phenomenon, of course, having experienced it on the other side of sunrise. When her racing mind would finally run out of fuel and allow her to rest, she would collapse into bed. If she was lucky, her sleep would overlap somewhat with Félix’s. Usually, she would fall asleep just as he was rising. And then it was her turn to touch cold sheets.

Of course, they were never quite as cold in the morning as they were in the middle of the night when she would rouse.

Everything was worse at night. The darkness thick, enveloping her like an inky fog. The cacophony of jungle sounds all the more jarring without the noises of people going about their day to camouflage it. The thoughts in her head free to take over, unencumbered by the endless list of errands she would undertake during the day to stave them off.

Thoughts that were currently rendering her unable to sleep next to her husband, the way she should be. That caused her to wake up, trying to smooth out the deep shuddering breaths and calm her pounding heart. That hung the cloud over her head whose smothering presence she could feel more than see.

When her mind raced like this, she felt like a windup toy that someone had wound until the key jammed and then stuck in a box; rattling restlessly, unable to rid itself of the pent-up energy inside. Fortunately, though her mind felt trapped, her body was entirely free to move. So move she would.

Crossing to the other side of the bed, she pressed a gentle kiss to Félix’s cheek, whispering another contrite apology. They both knew that her sleepless nights rolled into miserable mornings, when she would show up for breakfast too late, gulping down scalding hot coffee just to keep herself awake through the meal. The coffee made her heart race, and she didn’t love the bitterness, but she’d learned to accept drinking it black.

She’d learned to accept a lot of darkness in her life.

Like how when she was a young girl, she saw things lurking in the shadows that danced on the walls. Things that her mamá insisted firmly were just a figment of her imagination, sometimes accompanied by a touch of exasperation. At a certain point, the idea that Pepa was too old for such nonsense got peppered in. Pepa had never wanted to make her mamá mad, and she knew how hard she worked all day to keep the encanto running smoothly. After a while, she stopped bothering her mamá with her nighttime torment. But she kept seeing them.

Things that Bruno told her were all manner of scary monsters, waiting to snatch her up. The wider her eyes grew in terror, the more he kept embellishing his stories, lips spreading in an indulgent grin until he would break down in laughter and say he was only kidding.

After Julieta realized this was happening, she scolded him sternly, telling him to knock it off. She tried to reassure Pepa, that the shadows were merely objects around the room leaving their grotesquely stretched imprint on the walls. It wasn’t a bogeyman, just a table and lamp casting an unfortunately distorted shadow.

When they turned 5, their casita had given them magical gifts. Bruno had gotten the gift of prophecy. His stories, though they had gotten rarer, were all the more terrifying now, especially when he made his eyes glow green while he was talking.

Julieta had gotten the gift of healing. Pepa had lost count of how many times she had begged her for an arepa or pandebono or something to heal her from the horrors inside her head. Even though Julieta always obliged her with whatever food she had on hand, it never helped.

Pepa got the gift of affecting the weather with her mood. It was small things at first, like a light drizzle when she was upset, or a few extra rays of sunshine when she was happy. But as she grew, her power did too, and soon, her stormy moods became literal.

Although Casita had provided them with their own magical rooms once they received their gifts, the triplets preferred to keep sharing. They had grown used to having each other around as they slept. Pepa especially craved the closeness, clinging to Julieta fiercely, as if her sister could protect her from the threatening shapes.

Eventually, they got too old to keep sharing and relented to sleep in their own rooms. But Pepa snuck in to see Julieta and Bruno more often than not. Mostly Julieta, but she also liked her brother more at night now that he wasn’t exacerbating her fears. Sometimes she would just curl up into Julieta and cry as sleeplessness took over her young self, relishing the comfort her sister would offer in return. But then the next morning, she would see Julieta with bags under her eyes, and her mother’s words would ring in her ears.

Pepa had to learn how to get through nights by herself.

The way she was doing now, she mused, wandering aimlessly through the hallways. Bright moonlight bathed the floors where it shone in through the windows. She climbed down the stairs gingerly, careful not to wake anyone else. Old wooden floors creaked under her feet, and she did her best to keep her footsteps light. The steps cast a strange shadow on the floor, a violent zigzag stretched so far that if it were a physical object, it would have snapped. But she didn’t fear shadows anymore.

Life had gotten a bit easier once she realized that the shadows weren’t figures lurking there just to scare her. It coincided with the triplets going off to school. Being around other kids, she learned very quickly what was normal and what wasn’t. Shadows, even weird ones, were normal.

Her gift, on the other hand, was not. Most of the time, she could keep it in check. Control it, even. Every time she made it rain on the crops, or sunny to dry clothes, people were always grateful to her and her Madrigal gift. But when her emotions overwhelmed her, when she felt the tears flooding her eyes… well… sometimes she actually flooded. Lord knows the floor of her classroom wasn’t in need of rain. Yet rain she did after failing her first test. And the courtyard didn’t need an ugly gash running through it, but she couldn’t control the bolt of lightning that crashed down next to her. In her defense, those boys shouldn’t have been trying to touch her.

Of course, the piéce de résistance of her long list of weather-related disasters was the hurricane she caused on her wedding day. Okay, it wasn’t exactly her fault. Bruno had provoked her. Again. It was his fault she caused a hurricane.

The shadows that haunted her morphed from literal to figurative. Her dreams were no longer filled with shadowy figures waiting to ambush her. Now they featured her schoolmates, laughing at her for crying so hard she ruined her notebook. Calling her names behind her back, many of which her mamá would have washed her mouth out with soap for repeating. Mocking her mercilessly for anything and everything they could think of, from her hair to, later on, how friendly she was with boys. Mostly from boys she wasn’t so friendly with.

She would always wake suddenly, panting hard, with a shadowy cloud overhead. Her heart would pound like a drum and her hands felt clammy and cold, like they did when she’d get sick all the time before Julieta got her gift. Sleep was impossible, so she’d toss and turn futilely until the sun rose above the horizon, heralded by the rooster.

Until she realized that, if she was already unable to sleep, there was no point staying in bed. After that, she would get up and wander around until she tired herself out enough to sleep again. People would comment on her tiredness, and she’d always make up some lame excuse. They’d also comment on how quietly she walked, and how often she’d startle them. It was an ability born of involuntary practice.

When she got older, she started leaving the house; sneaking out silently to meander around town. Seeing her animal friends always helped her feel a little better, especially the dogs, to whom she’d give an affectionate pat on the head. There were a few spots she liked to visit when the worries got too loud, but her favorite was the river.

Her mother didn’t like her going near the river, always cautioning her against it. Pepa supposed she thought it was too dangerous, that Pepa would fall in and get swept away by the current, never to be seen again, or God forbid, drown. This supposition was never brought up to her mother.

However, Pepa was careful not to fall in (and unbeknownst to her mother, a strong swimmer as well). She’d sit by the bank, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she stared into the gleaming blackness of the river, broken up by starlight skittering across the surface. What she really loved about the river was that it was loud. Loud enough to drown out the roaring thoughts inside her head.

This was where she was headed now. She knew Félix would be worried if he woke up yet again to find her half of the bed still empty, so she hoped the thrum of the current would soothe her sooner.

Meeting him had been a godsend. Maybe she was the one that could produce sunlight at will, but he was the real sunshine. Many couples joked about how their spouses were the sun in their lives. In her case, it was actually true.

He’d moved to the encanto when the triplets had turned thirteen. He was a little older, and made his presence known from the get-go. Félix was outgoing, lively, charming, funny... He was able to calm her down when no one else could. She hadn’t even realized she was falling in love with him until one day she saw him holding hands with another girl and got the urge to knock her lights out.

Granted, the other girl would have been all wrong for him. Her friend deserved someone way better. Someone who he enjoyed spending time with, who made him laugh too, who could keep up with his dancing. Someone like…her.

He’d given her a pair of sun earrings after they started officially courting, claiming that when he looked at her, he saw the sun. But he was the real sun. If anything, she was the moon; absorbing brightness from him and reflecting it out into the world. It was a more apt comparison, in her opinion. He was an insufferable morning person, like Julieta. When his enthusiastic effervescence wasn’t getting on her nerves, it gave her the boost she needed to get through those awful morning hours before she fully woke up, even after the coffee kicked in.

And she was a night owl. She liked to stay up late, reading, until his snoring caused her to be unable to focus on what happened with María anymore. Then she’d set her book down and snuggle up next to him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. At first, she slept a lot better just having him there next to her. But after a while, her night terrors returned once more.

It got worse after Dolores was born. The pregnancy had been so exhausting, she slept clear through the night. But once she was born, Pepa was back to being as twitchy as a mouse. Her dreams changed to accommodate her new fears of being a bad mother, of not caring for her child properly, losing her, hurting her, failing her. Félix, fortunately, was a heavy sleeper, and hardly woke when she did. Pepa would always take care of any nighttime baby business. It just made sense, seeing as she was already awake. Besides, Félix worked so hard…he deserved his rest.

In between caring for her babies, her sleep fluctuated; sometimes better, sometimes worse.

(Except after Bruno disappeared. Then, she would sleep all day and toss and turn all night. But she couldn’t bear to remember that.)

Félix had been wonderful to her throughout all of parenthood. He insisted on taking a more active role with Camilo, hoping that her insomnia stemmed from motherly obligation, and would always give her a kiss and whispered “sleep well”. But it was pointless. Worse, it was affecting him. Where before he would be the first one at the fields, ready to work, now he would lumber in last, stifling yawns the entire time he was there.

Pepa couldn’t stand to see him like this, so they went back to their earlier routine after Antonio’s surprise arrival. For some reason, he’d been easier. Sure, he had all the typical baby nighttime needs, but more often than not, it was his cries that awoke her rather than the twisted voices in her head chanting their litany of all her shortcomings. She guessed that she’d worked through those particular worries by then.

Eventually, her nocturnal turmoil resumed. It had become a sick sort of routine for them: Pepa waking in the middle of the night, Félix sleeping alone, Pepa stumbling into bed exhausted in the early morning just as Félix was getting ready to start his day. They slept alone more often than either of them would have liked, and she knew he missed her as much as she missed him.

Thankfully, it wasn’t happening nearly as often now. Losing her gift was ironically the best gift she could have asked for. Without a physical and destructive manifestation of her emotions, she’d been able to work through things that had been bothering her since she was a child. Even after it returned, she slept a lot better, and as a result, Félix did too.

She passed the church, its steeple distinctive even in the darkness. When she was younger, she used to pray to God to take the fears away. It didn’t seem to help much. Now she prayed for more important things, like the health of her husband and children. They were all doing fine. Perhaps God liked those prayers better.

A cobblestone jutting up made her lose her footing. She rubbed at her bleary eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The sky was still dark, lacking even the faintest tinge of gray, so she guessed not that long had passed. It wasn’t like she could look at the clock to check. Her feet had become uncertain in her weariness. Time for her to return home.

She slipped into the house unnoticed, climbing back into bed as quietly as she could, taking care not to lie on top of Félix’s hand still stretched over the empty expanse of mattress.

As soon as she was under the covers, his arm swung over her hip, pulling her closer to himself subconsciously. He mumbled something unintelligible and smiled in his sleep.

Pepa pressed herself closer into his body. He felt so warm after the chill of the nighttime air. Soon, he would warm her up too, and then they would be sharing each other’s warmth together, asleep in bed at the same time.

The way things were always supposed to be, and the way she hoped they’d stay.

#pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #julieta madrigal #bruno madrigal #pepa x felix #felix x pepa #feliepa #writing feliepa #writing encanto #writing pepa madrigal #writing answered prompts #asks #anonymous #foreveranevilregal writes #this ended up being mostly about pepa's experience #but she reflects on how it affects him too #always open to new prompts #hoping the writing momentum continues #pregnancy mention #forgot to tag this earlier sorry

[astralprisms]

Wrote a little prompt fic courtesy of @bg3wips flowers prompt list on twt. I can't remember the first time Xa'rok used Dissonant Whispers, and their signature weapon came later, but the first time they used the illithid powers was memorable, relevant, and came with a fun interaction perk, so.

Thistle - the first time they used their signature weapon or spell.

The din of unsheathed weaponry rings around them in a cascade of echoes. Goblins shift on their feet as bowstrings creak with impatient tension. One of the goblins spits, loud and wet, and the glob of it lands just shy of Karlach's fur-lined boot.

“Prick,” she mutters before burying her fist into the abdomen of the troll that towers to her right.

The troll looks caught off guard, either by the attack connecting or the fact that it actually felt the blow, but it doesn't have time to ponder the discrepancy further before Karlach whoops and follows that strike up with another, the air around her fists crackling in her wake.

Xa'rok spares a seconds-long glance at the staggering troll before their eyes fix on the maelstrom of goblins thickly clustered in the center of camp. They are no natural-born tactician, but they are gith. In the end, it amounts to one and the same.

They take stock of their enemies in increments, grouping the threats by severity, weapon, and proximity. They can see the tell-tale regalia of the goblin priesthood peeking out from the doorway of a rampart wall. And the two humans they met in the woods north of the Grove, the ones who first called them True Soul.

The parasite squirms in Xa'rok's skull. Something sparks to life behind their eyes and they blink as the feeling washes over them. Power.

One of the goblins in the cluster at the center of camp shifts on his crouched haunches, the crossbow in his hands aimed with deadly accuracy. Xa'rok takes one feinted step forward and calls upon the pulse of magic in their blood, blurring out of existence at the front steps and re-appearing at the epicenter of the crowd, hand already reaching for their sword.

But by the time they materialize the squirming in their skull has become a buzzing that filters down into their sword arm, and as they bring both hands to their face to shake it free, Xa'rok finds a new course of action: for their vision has gone dark around the edges, blurred as if they are still in between one place and the next. Their feet have left the ground, and the buzzing has become a hum, a wellspring, a gaping hungry maw. The only thing restraining it is their own will.

Once realized, they let it go.

Reality shifts. A blip in their vision. An expulsion of force with the ring of psionic detonation. It tears through their mind and out.

The goblins drop around them like flies. Bryanna and Andrick stare in twin horror until their eyes go blank, and they, too, collapse into the shadow of their rampart hideaway.

A pleased, honeyed voice sluices through Xa'rok's slowly-reconnecting thoughts. Good. Again.

#BG3WIPS #tav #githyanki tav #tav: xa'rok #my writing #prompts #true to githyanki form to discover a new kink in the midst of battle #but also: what a fucking introduction to the fun of these powers. goblin camp who? they wiped 80% of them in one action+bonus action combo #I love you misty step the light of my life misty step #repulsor is a close runner up I still make frequent use of it even nearing the endgame #hard to beat an aoe expulsion attack that's basically shouting FUCK OFF really loud in psionic #sorry for all the friendly fire damage my party has sustained along the way #this is why Xa'rok has access to (3) misty steps #also of relevance: karlach is an open-hand monk and alert means she's always up first in combat. xa'rok generally ends up following her.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

6 and 12 for the ask game?

6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list? well if i'm going to be true to the question and talk about something i haven't started at all--probably a few different times frank offers anthony a handjob 😂 at the rate i write this will probably be done like a year from now haha

12. Will you change anything about the way you edit or rewrite this year? not so much for editing because i don't really "edit," in the traditional sense. i would like to try to do things to make my writing better, which is sort of a vague statement, because i'm not sure what that means to me. more depth to it? i'm not sure if i'd change how i rewrite either--i think those processes are fine. there's just something else going on i'm not satisfied with!

#new-berry #answered #fic saga #i'm always open to new prompts #provided they're about a person of interest 😂

[sylvieons]

Not to be weird because I hate when people are weird about celebrities because I am fully aware we don't know these people but. Ever since Tom Hiddleston became a dad it's SO obvious he's SO much happier and that in turn makes me feel warm fuzzies. I'm just like awww isn't that cute he's so happy I'm so happy for him :3

#especially bc for a few years there he looked absolutely wretched #my girl taylor did a number on him #hiddleswift rise and all that but i'm pretty sure their breakup is what made him miserable #and only after meeting zawe and having his kid did he cheer up again #i'm a hiddlesologist i am always intensely observing this man leave me alone #dot txt #this post prompted by comic con pictures of him wearing a green sweater #and my mouth fell open and i screeched HE IS WEARING A NEW SWEATER AGAIN #i was - as the tiktok kids say - gagged #also lmao that this man is so transparent that a new sweater prompts all of this #he literally wears his heart on his sleeve (on the sleeve of his blue sweater)

[jancys-blue-bayou]

I’m working on a three chapter fic set between s3 and s4 (which will divert a bit from canon) for a fic request and I hope/think it’ll turn out good but please don’t request anymore fics set between s3 and s4 or concerning the Byers move in some way because still nothing about how the Byers move and how they wrote it and depicted it makes sense at all so all my writing attempts about it end up making my head hurt trying to finagle any logic into the situation and/or having to just go la la la lets just ignore all the issues since canon did.

#but you can always request fics or send prompts #just please no more about this time #what was the point of the move at all #how are the army people not finding them immediately since they live under their real names #why is owens so insanely nice and loyal to them #and his men just willing to give their lives for the byers for no reason #how much money does owens have on hand to keep the byers with that very nice big house and to fund the nina project #which he just very conveniently happens to have ready in the desert just in case #but srlsy if the poiint was to hide el they don't hide at all #real names and in contact with hawkins by mail and phone with people they're known to associate with #army dudes could just open a phone book and find them #and then you barely spend any time in the new place and sideline the characters there and set all the action in hawkins anyway

[neverendingford]

.

#tag talk #had a new therapist appointment today. she seems nice and I think we'll probably get along. #I complained about growing up queer and christian and she complained about her bible thumping sister so I complained about my little brother #who is the same flavor of dogmatic religious and as long as it doesn't ever turn into her genuinely complaining about stuff to me we're good #I'm always bad at open ended questions like “tell me about yourself” but I can go off for an hour with a prompt like “do you have any kids?” #I woke up my laptop an hour ahead because it's so fuckin old it needs the time to wake up but my pc doesn't have a webcam so laptop it is. #I got a headset that connects with a bluetooth dongle because my pc network card doesn't have onboard bluetooth and it's nice #cause I don't have to worry about audio cords and I can walk around the house while still connected to call. #so many people I vc with have issues with headphones and mics unplugging all the time and I'm like hah I'm better than you. #anyway. we'll see how it goes. she was nice and wasn't sarcastic or passive aggressive so better than the first person I saw here. #and she actually responds to my comments and asks questions instead of just silently listening so better than my last actual therapist. #fourth time's the charm maybe. we'll see. I'm also in a place where I can get even more done myself with just a little external motivation #so even if she's not remarkably insightful I'm in a better place mentally so with a bit of external impetus I can get even more done now. #I picked weekly instead of biweekly because I will forget stuff so fucking fast if I pick biweekly and I can schedule it further away later #if I decide that's what I want/need/can handle. but yeah. new stuff #I still to call their dental department about a checkup cause it's been since 2019 since I got an actual checkup. #I brush and floss and mouthwash because I'm paranoid of having an issue without immediate dental care so I'm prolly fine #but it would be nice to be sure about it instead of just presuming and guessing. #once again thanks for socialized healthcare even if it is pretty garbage in the US it's absolutely better than nothing. #if/when I want gender surgery shit it'll probably be a whole-ass issue but for the entry-level shit it's very manageable. #anyway. I almost forgot about my scheduled appointment because when my brain is nervous about stuff it chooses to forget about it #which has cause problems in the past and certainly will again in the future but I remembered early enough that I didn't try and shower #cause deadass one time I had to hop out of the shower to take a scheduled Dr call cause I forgot about it #if my music hadn't paused I wouldn't have noticed. #no big deal just me talking about important medical treatment stuff buck ass nude full thang swangin #anyway. hopefully good things in the future perhaps. #I have to go shower for real now. byeeeeee

[cerebrosurgeon]

〈 @mooncheetah started following you    〉

› I attached all official personnel frequencies to this ping, so don’t be shy about getting in touch!

› -CEREBROS✧

›〔If you want to sign our guest log, see security director Red Alert〕▮

#〔Welcoming committee〕 #〔Down/uplink〕 #〔Mooncheetah〕 #〈 As always: Feel free to ignore! Updated the fancy new technology [pinned post] to include any open prompts as I post them. 〉

[toastsnaffler]

roommate throwing me the curveball of "I get the feeling ur a physically affectionate person and its ok if u want to cuddle sometimes" then immediately hitting me with a SECOND curveball of "I also kind of like biting people. so if u ever want that too-"

#apropos of NOTHING????? #im trying to remember if ive made any particularly touch deprived comments lately that wouldve prompted her bringing this up #bc normally w the way she thinks abt things i can trace it back to smth specific. its kind of endearing actually #but i dont rember.. maybe its been on her mind a while. also its not like my behaviour is particularly subtle so maybe its that #im the walking talking epitome of that htn quote thats like you were so afraid anyone might touch you you had always been afraid of- #anyone touching you and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried it like okay let me just KILL MYSELF!!!!! #im glad she did bring it up bc ive wanted to renegotiate physical boundaries for so long but im just. incapable of initiating that talk #bc its smth that feels so loaded to me bc touch is so complicated but i AM. a physically affectionate person at heart so!!!!!! #its actually been kind of one of my new years resolutions to be a little more open and try to erode some unnecessary boundaries #i think the latter has gotta stay off the table tho bc girl. im good with hugging but im incapable of being normal abt biting #if u start biting me i am going to start thinking thoughts u def do not want me having abt u so...... #ANYWAY. man im so tired early bedtime tonight i think.. #.diaries

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#writing #creative writing #writer problems #writing advice #writing community #writing a book #writing problems #novel writing #on writing #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writers block #female writers #writers of tumblr #writers blog #adhd writer

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

[suncoved]

RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?

prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”

you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.

kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.

but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.

you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.

sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.

you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.

and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.

beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.

"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.

you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.

"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."

your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.

he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.

you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.

you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"

your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.

"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.

you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.

you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.

honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.

though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.

he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.

it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.

there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.

yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.

"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.

he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"

you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.

"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.

"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.

you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.

you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.

he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.

you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.

your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.

rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.

he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.

"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.

"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.

"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.

it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.

"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.

a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.

rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.

you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.

you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.

"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.

"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.

"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.

"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.

"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.

rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.

“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #izutsumi #dunmeshi analysis #dungeon meshi spoilers

[angelicdanvers]

THE CLEARING | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user

summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k

a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3

camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.

and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 

often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.

she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.

this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.

clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.

then what in the world kept nagging her?

she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.

sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.

the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.

inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 

a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.

submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.

squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.

smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.

and then the sun was gone.

her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.

“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.

he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”

“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”

the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”

“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”

he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 

y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”

“yes ma’am.”

y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 

how could she say no after that?

she found him quite intriguing as well.

luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 

“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 

“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.

“you know, i could admire you all day.”

“and why is that?”

he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”

y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”

"who are you giving those pearls to?"

"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."

luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.

“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.

“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 

without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.

the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.

breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.

“i love you, luke.”

their admiration could only grow from there. 

or so they thought.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #charlie bushnell #luke castellan oneshot #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjotv #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x y/n #charlie bushnell x reader

[diedoverahat]

A Different Kind of Compensation.

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part two!

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.

warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.

word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.

authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.

You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”

He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again. 

“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”

You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.

Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.

Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.

You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly. 

Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black.  His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.

“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly, not looking away from his hungry gaze.

Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.

Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your already wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids. 

Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.

"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.

Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.

Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.

"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."

Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.

As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."

He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.

"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.

Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.

He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.

“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”

Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.

Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.

It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.

“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.

Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.

He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.

After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.

You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.

It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.

He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”

You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability, though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.

You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second.

“Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”

#baby's first smut #i'm so nervous #don't be mean #i like it tbh #so i actually don't care if you guys don't #i'm just kidding #please like this #love you #crying screaming yelling #micheal schmidt x reader #micheal schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf smut #josh hutcherson #jhutch #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #micheal schmidt #smut #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson smut

[sanguineterrain]

how about Jason with the prompt "text me when you get home"? the one time they forget/fall asleep before sending the text and Jay loses hid mind. rushes over expecting them to be dead but they passed out on the couch as soon as they got home

really superbly SCRUMPTIOUS prompt Aud. I love protective jaybird 🥰‼️ thanks for sending something in 🫶

jason todd x gn!reader. worried protective snuggly jason. no warnings really, ya boy is just paranoid and madly in love with you 💓

request something! I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

As soon as you get out of your last class of the day, your phone rings.

You answer it, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fish in your bag for a couple of bills. You're already walking to the train station.

"Hi, snookie bear," you say into the phone, slightly delirious with hunger and sleep deprivation.

Jason snorts on the other end. "That's a new one. Hey, baby. Y'heading home?"

"Indeed I am."

"Need a ride?"

You wait and listen. Eventually, you hear the sounds of hitting and grunting in the background. You roll your eyes—only Jason would be in the middle of a fight and then ask if you need a ride home.

"No, I'm okay. It's not dark yet. Plus you sound busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," he says immediately. "And it's gonna get dark in an hour. Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jay," you say gently. "I'm sure. Don't worry about me. I'm going straight home."

You're already at the station. There's a good amount of people, students and workers alike. The university is in a relatively okay part of town, especially during the day. You're not worried. It's not like you traipse through Crime Alley on your downtime.

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath. "Just—just be careful. Text me when you get home."

You note the hint of worry in his tone. Maybe this week has been particularly saturated with crime. Jason tends to get a little overbearing about your safety when he's had a tough week. You know he had go down to Blüdhaven and help his brother—with what specifically, you don't know.

Most of the time, you're sure you don't want to know.

"I always do," you say. The train pulls up to the station. "Ooh, train's here! I'll talk to you later. I'm thinking of ordering takeout. Too tired to cook."

"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. Love you. Lock your door."

You roll your eyes fondly. "Yes, Jay. Love you too. Bye."

You hang up as you step onto the train. You pull your headphones out of your bag and shut your brain off during the ride. By the time you get off the train, you've lost hope that you'll be doing any work tonight. You're absolutely wiped out after three back-to-back classes.

It's still light when you get home. You lock the door after you get in, the habit ingrained into you, and dump your bag onto the couch.

Takeout is a no-go. You're hungry now and about thirty seconds away from passing out on the couch.

You change into your home clothes, eat a granola bar, and call it a day. You'll eat more later.

You turn off your phone to bar any annoying notifications and fall into bed, eyes closing immediately.

****

The sound of your deadbolt being teared off its chain wakes you up. You flinch and jump awake, trying to blink through sleep. Your mouth is dry from how hard you slept, and your eyesight is slightly blurry from the sudden flood of moisture.

Your bedroom door swings open, and suddenly you're pulled into warm, heavily muscled arms. You hug back on instinct; you'd know the feel of your boyfriend anywhere.

"Jay, h—"

"You didn't text," he says, voice shaking. "You said you would. I was—I thought you were—"

You tense, guilt knocking into you.

"Shit. Jason, I'm so sorry. I meant to, I was just so tired..."

Jason pulls back to look at you, hands still on your shoulders. His expression is stern.

"I'm gonna pick you up from now on. When are your late days?"

"Jay, no, GCU is across town. You can't possibly pick me up three days a week. That's too much! What about patrol?"

"Somebody else is out at this time," he says stonily. "Crime Alley can wait an hour while I get you home."

His eyes blaze green, a side effect of the Pit. You can tell he's putting every effort into keeping a lid on the worry and fear and anger over your silence.

"Jason." You cup his face. "Honey, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't text you. I'm sorry I worried you. But your adrenaline is spiked right now, Jay. Everything feels magnified. I don't need to be picked up. I was perfectly safe coming home. Okay?"

He shakes his head, holding your wrists. "Anything could've happened. I was so—fuck, baby, I was so scared. I-I checked the station footage and the traffic cams, and I didn't see you after you cut through the park, and I thought—I was sure you'd—"

Jason pulls your arms around his neck and buries his face into your shoulder. He supports you by the backs of your thighs, tugging you into his lap. Then he clings tight.

"Oh, Jay," you murmur, petting his curls. "I'm alright. This end of Gotham isn't so bad. And I know you'd have found me even if something had happened. But nothing did."

"Can't lose you," he chokes out.

"You won't lose me, honey," you say. "You keep me safe."

He trembles in your embrace. You kiss the shell of his ear and continue to pet his hair.

"Let me pick you up tomorrow, at least," he pleads. "We'll get dumplings at that place you like. You barely ate anything when you came home."

"Okay, Jay," you say, because you know he needs that reassurance. He won't relax without it. "That sounds good."

You keep stroking his hair. "Y'wanna order in now?"

"In a minute."

Jason lays you both down on the bed. He throws a leg over yours and pulls you into his chest. It's now that you see just how much tension is locked in his shoulders. He's exhausted.

"Jus' wanna hold you for a bit," he says, lips resting on your shoulder.

He's drowsy, the adrenaline finally ebbing. You close your eyes and snuggle into his arms.

"You can hold me for as long as you want," you say, threading your fingers with his. "I'm not going anywhere."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[hermitadaymay]

WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2024!

I'm thrilled to bring this challenge to you all for the second year in a row! Hermit-a-Day May is a challenge inspired by Hermitober, but with a twist: instead of theme prompts, we focus on a specific Hermit every day!

THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while I recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in a big queue in June. 4. I am not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves.

WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because, this year, there's an extra dimension to the event: a fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by @rendiggitydog and @belmarzi.

GRAND TOTAL INCENTIVE: For every $150 we raise for Gamers Outreach, belmarzi will make 10 seconds' worth of animatic, featuring as many Hermits as she can fit into the time frame.

INDIVIDUAL DONATION INCENTIVE: For every $65 you personally donate to the fundraiser during the month of May, Rae rendiggitydog will draw you a shaded flats commission of a Hermit of your choice.

WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use she/her, he/him, ze/hir, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Yep, before you ask, it really is just me, but to be fair I've had a lot of help.

BONUS SUNDAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT

TFC - May 5th While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.

FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 12th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them: just as a small number of examples, Season 9's Rift opened up to a whole server of Emperor friends, and there are always allies to be made in MCC and enemies to be made in the Life Series. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.

FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 19th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?

GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 26th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?

#hermitaday #hermitcraft #hermit-a-day may #hermitcraft smp #vintagebeef #xisumavoid #zedaph #keralis #ijevin #mumbo jumbo #xbcrafted #skizzleman #stressmonster101 #pearlescentmoon #cubfan135 #docm77 #falsesymmetry #welsknight #ethoslab #joehills #geminitay #bdoubleo100 #iskall85 #tangotek #zombiecleo #impulsesv #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hypnotizd #smallishbeans