#but new years feels like the right moment to post it

[drdemonprince]

Can you offer any (academic) writing advice for Autistics and ADHDers? You clearly write a lot and write very well and very clearly, so some insight into your process would be great. Personally, I tend to struggle with over explaining or over citing (cause I am always getting misunderstood) and that I get very fixated on not misrepresenting what my sources are saying to avoid feeling like I'm lying. All this is time consuming and makes it hard to say what I really want to say. Thanks!

Hi there! I've written an essay about a lot of this, here is the free link to read it on Medium:

Much of my writing process is inspired by the book How to Write a Lot by Paul Silvia, and it is specifically tailored to academics. The advice applies to people who write popular nonfiction or fiction just as easily, however. And he does have advice relevant to the self-editing and self-doubt you describe feeling.

The full piece gets into this more, but here are some of the stand-out tips:

Schedule a regular time to write every week and show up no matter whether you are feeling it or not.

Throw out all your magical thinking about what you "need" to be able to write. You don't need the perfect workspace, divine inspiration, the right pen, the right playlist. You just need to show up to write regularly, and do it

Editing, outlining, working with research notes, and drafting all count as "writing." Don't expect your initial drafts to be perfect or to equate writing only with getting new words on the page.

Try writing in public spaces to help get yourself in the mindset of explaining a concept to someone with a different frame of reference and type of expertise than you. Writing in a cafe or a public library can force you think and write in a more accessible way. (alternatively, you can pretend you are explaining the concept to a specific person in your life who you respect but who doesnt have all the same reference points as you -- sometimes this is called the "Grandma Test". Explain something like you are talking to your grandma.)

In addition to all this, I would add that you should read a lot of writing, both good and bad, especially work that isn't dry and academic. If all you read is journal articles, you'll write a journal article -- and most of those are hell to read, even for academics. read fiction. read bad wattsapp shipping. read substacks. read newspapers. read indulgent personal nonfiction in the cut or whatever. read reddit posts. notice what works and what doesn't. develop an ear.

and then write a lot! it took me 15 years to get good enough for anything i wrote to get noticed. you can expect to take many years to get comfortable developing your own voice, too. i dont know how far along you are, but even when you've made tremendous progress you'll only notice your flaws and feel the most turgid brain foggy moments. that doesn't mean you're failing.

also, to some extent you can embrace your citation-dense, precise manner of self-expression. we are living in a moment of maximalism and indulgent, long creative works. it's the decade of the 5 hour youtube essay and the 2 hour album. my 5,000 word essays do better than my 2,000 word ones. you should strip down unnecessary tangents and trust yourself and your reader a little more probably, but ive found that the more blatantly autistic and indulgent my writing gets the more the right people like it. a writer's flaws and their distinctive voice are kinda hard to separate. you're not for everyone!

good luck!

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

A NOT SO MEET CUTE ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

summary: the first time you and percy meet isn't the best of circumstances and opinions are formed

warnings: swearing and i think thats just about it!

a/n: *in announcer voice* hello and welcome to my first au series, percy and the popstar - help the first time i thought of that my mind went to 'the princess and the popstar' 😭 - im using gracie, masie peters and taylor swift lyrics and faceclaims because im unoriginal as shit :) so if i've used a ts lyric and she's also liked a post lets just collectively ignore that okay!! anyway its unedited but i hope you enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!!

~~~

percy jackson is famous.

ok thats putting it lightly, percy jackson is extremely famous. in fact he is one of the youngest million-almost-billion-aires in the world. the twenty-two year old has an incredible influence on the world. how he got famous? no one really knows.

maybe its the fact that society drops at the feet of any good-looking rich boy. or maybe he actually did work for it like the rest of the word, we'll never know.

but.

y/n l/n is even more famous.

she's a force to be reckoned with, taking the world by storm with her music and setting the industry alight with her influence. she's got power, beauty and talent and she's not afraid to show it, the recently-turned twenty-one year old has turned the world on its head. case and point; her world tour that she's embarked on. y/n l/n switched things up and instead of starting in the u.s she's finishing here in good ol' new york!

l/n has one final show in florida and two more in boston and then we welcome her home to nyc.

why am i writing an article about y/n l/n and percy jackson i hear you ask? because the young celebrities were both spotted at a high end restaurant in florida, whether they were actually together or not remains to be discovered...

~~~

"would you put your phone down?" lia sighs, setting down an iced coffee in front of you. "you've been staring at that article all morning- its not even a credible source. its probably just some random high schooler blogging."

"i know," you huff and glare at her when she steals your phone from you. "but seriously? percy jackson? come on! i've never even met the guy."

"ooh he is yummy," lia says looking at your phone, at the photo of percy that was pasted at the top of the article. "i mean, ew yucky, he's like the ugliest person ever, i definitely don't want to bang him."

"bang him?" you laugh. "please for the love of god, never say that again."

lia just shrugs and picks up her own coffee taking a sip. "it's trueee."

sighing you lean back into your seat and look around the extravagant living room you're both currently resting in. its a few hours before you have to start getting ready for your final show here in florida and you can feel the anticipation starting to build under your skin.

"omigoshlookatthis," lia shrieks shoving your phone into your face.

"are you seriously stalking his instagram right now?" you raise your eyebrows at her.

"what? as i said he. is. hot."

your eyes flick quickly over his instagram not really seeing the appeal - sure he's good looking in a noticeable, obvious kinda way - but all he seems to post is pictures of him and how rich he is. ugh. be more creative - his insta is like every other boys. shirtless pics and vacations.

then your eyes settle on one thing in particular. "wait! you followed him?"

"shit," lia's eyes widen. "fuck this isn't going to help is it?"

"do something!" you shriek leaping off the couch. "do something! unfollow him! do something!"

"shit shit shit shit," lia cries as you both fly around the room in hysteria - you're both acting like teenage girls honestly - but at this point you don't care.

"fix it! fix it!"

"ok ok! done! i unfollowed him." lia's quiet for a moment and then she panics again. "ahhh fuck he's ONLINE!"

"noooooo! do you think he saw it?" you slap lia in the shoulder. "LIA!" hands shaking as you slump back down. "fuck. oh my god. this is going to be all over the internet."

"it'll be okay," lia comforts sitting down next to you. "it's not like you're famous or anything."

~~~

just now

yn.user followed you

"PERCY FUCKING JACKSON WHAT DID YOU DO?"

those aren't usually percy's favorite words. so when he hears grover yelling this from the hotel bathroom - why the bathroom? don't ask.

"what? what?" percy yells back.

"PERCY MOTHER FUCKING JACKSON WHAT DID YOU DO?" okayyy thats is definitely not good if luke was yelling at him too.

"WHAT?" percy yells back.

"PERCY-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY WHAT DID YOU DO ONE MORE TIME-"

luke and grover both stalk into the living room with chris and clarisse hot on their heels all supporting bewildered looks on their faces.

"do you know y/n l/n?" grover asks narrowing his eyes.

"the singer right?" percy asks confused still.

"check your insta right now," clarisse jumps in.

percy still confused as ever pulls out his phone eyebrows nearly springing off his face when he sees the notification on insta.

"wait what?"

"y/n l/n followed you for like two minutes and then unfollowed you again. its all over twitter, instagram, everything - especially after that dumb article went around," luke explains.

"it doesn't matter," percy sighs chucking his phone back onto the couch beside him.

"uh yes it does!" grover practically yells. "do you know where we're all going tonight? to her concert! this is going to feed every horny teenage girls dream." grover shoots percy an exasperated look. "my god, the rumours and theories that are gonna come out after this is insane."

"who cares what people think about us? it isn't true. besides y/n is probably one of those girls."

"those girls?" clarisse asks her eye brows raised.

"y'know, pretentious little daddy's girls who clearly have everything handed to them on a silver platter? those girls."

"whatever you say dumbass," chris chuckles.

"we're going to that concert tonight, percy," grover says turning on him. "shit is going to hit the fan because of it, but we're going. because i paid a fortune for those tickets and clarisse and i really wanna see y/n."

"whatever you say buddy, whatever you say."

☾. ⋅

yn.user

liked by oliviarodrigo, sabrinacarpenter, lia.mandel and 342, 789 others

yn.user florida!!! is one hell of a drug! thank you so much for the love and support you've shown me these past few night florida!!! you've been an amazing audience and i can't wait to come back here 🤍🩵

view all comments

user1 omg omg best night of my lifeee

user2 is that a possible song lyric i see there???

user3 omfg it could be. the three !!! at the end of both floridas??

user4 everybody wake up y/n has posted!

user7 did anyone else see her follow percy jackson and then unfollow him??? no just me?

user6 holy shit yess i saw that

user5 i smell a new ship brewing

user8 WAIT didn't he go to last night's show??

user10 why isn't he waiting for the new york concerts? he lives there right? why go allll the way to florida?

user9 mother is mothering

☾. ⋅

"i told you this would happen!" you huff to lia when she walks into your bedroom a few mornings later. "my entire comment section has been filled with people questioning about percy! i've never even met the guy!"

lia who had been assigned the role - self-assigned - the role to get you out of bed just rolls her eyes and drags the covers off you. "i know as you keep saying. but there is nothing we can do about it- short from announcing that it was a mistake. no one will even believe that anyway, so just let it go."

reluctantly you leave the comfort of your bed and slip into the clothes lia had picked out, trailing after her like a lost puppy. this usually happens between concerts, you return home and rest in your bed (with lia more often than not) not leaving it unless you need to, then lia comes parading in and announces that you're going out and since you have little fight left in you - you always agree.

ignoring the countless paparazzi as you make your way into the cafe you listen to lia as she blabs on about how she's never going to forgive you for not telling her you were adding a new song to your setlist without telling her.

you're so wrapped up in your own head you don't even see the person in front of you until you're slamming into them. and they've spilt coffee down your front.

"ah shit."

"fuck sorry."

you look up and its none other than the percy jackson. well hey! you've officially met him now!

"you good?" percy asks glasses and a cap cover his face but you still recognise him - what? lia's obsessed. and you were subjected to listen about her love for him - and the tone of his voice already pissed off and bored. it's like he was concerned until the second he recognised you. rude.

he doesn't even spare you a second glance before he's flipping you off.

"excuse me?" you say pulling his hand down. "did you just flip me off?"

percy's face pulls into a smirk and you just look up at him in disgust, brush past him and say "whatever asshole." at the same time he says. "later bitch."

fucker you're both thinking.

☾. ⋅

☾. ⋅

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you] @lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle, @lara20aral [if you want to be added just let me know!]

#percy x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy x y/n #percy x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fic #percy pjo #percy jackson #fanfic #fanfiction #percy x popstar au ₊ ⊹ #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

[otdiaftg]

WHAT'S NEXT:

The out pouring of love for this blog has swept me off my feet. I knew the logic behind the follower count, but this weekend proved to me without a shadow of a doubt just how much this fandom cherishes these characters and this story.

I am overwhelmed with adoration towards every. single. one. of you.

I took the weekend to finally recoup after the whirlwind of this past year but wanted to take a moment now to answer some of the questions I've seen pop up and to inform you all of what my plans are for what's next.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WILL YOU CONTINUE THE ACCOUNT THIS YEAR?

This took me a long time to ponder and I wanted to make sure I was in the correct headspace to answer it. Short answer: No.

Long answer: All For The Game is near and dear to my heart. And the reason I began this account was because the dates for 2023 matched that of the dates they were meant to be in 2006. To continue it in the year 2024 would mean the dates would be completely wrong and a lot more logistics would have to occur beforehand.

But also-- I'm not the best when it comes to technology, especially when it comes to BOTS so every post that was published was typed out, formatted and scheduled by hand by me. I did not have help. I did not have proofreaders, or editors, or managers. I contacted all the artists myself, sorted through every single page of the artists to find matches to the story, read and re-read the books for exact or guesstimation of dates/times, and made a hell of a lot of typos on the way through all that.

There was probably an easier way that I could have done all this. But I didn't/don't know it. So that all boils down to: It’s a long and tiring process.

Don't get me wrong, it was worth all the hours. And all the sleepless nights I had getting everything done and out. I already thanked my support network, but without my wife and my best friend being there to make me another cup of coffee, walk our dog, do the chores and generally make sure I didn't crumble from the pressure -- none of this would have happened.

So, putting myself through that again, after everything that has happened this year alone-- felt like it would cheapen the experience I had when the dates won't even match.

That being said.... 2034 isn't that far away. >__>

WILL YOU BE DOING AN OTDITSC?

Short answer: No.... sorry.

Long answer: As stated, it is VERY hard to organize what and how I did. HOURS spent researching, organizing, scheduling, etc. Time spent away from my family and other hobbies. NOT time I regret (need to keep prefacing that) but time I want back now. At least for a little bit.

It also doesn't sit right for me to start an OTDITSC when I know some people are still waiting for their copies. There are so many of us out here (as I've come to find out) and I don't want to exclude people's enjoyment and connection that this account gives. I also feel like the more posts about TSC out there, the harder it is for those who are (lets say) waiting for the physical copies to block/mute spoilers. We can say a tag is enough, but this is the internet. And that's not always true.

And lastly, personally, TSC is still SO VERY NEW. It's not even complete yet and we don't 100% know when the next one will be published. I don't want to start something, get to the end of the timeline, and than have a huge gap between posts that will potentially be moments in the second book. It doesn't feel fair to their story, to myself, or to the followers of this account to have incorrect information for something I love so dearly. If I'm doing it. I want to do it right.

SO, WHAT'S NEXT?

Well. A lot. For me personally, as well as this account. I don't want to leave everyone in such a finite way. I love this fandom. I love its art and writings and the abundance of talent and joy that it exudes.

So first, for myself, as well as those artists who agreed to help with this account, I want to post, for the next 40 days Artist Highlights (that means this account will still be active until Friday, May 24th).

Every day, I will post about an Artist and the work that I wanted to post but couldn't fit in. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, these artists are the reason this account thrives. Art, in a multitude of forms, speaks in a way words can not. And these artists prove that.

I'm excited to show them off for a couple more weeks at least. They are all wonderful people.

AND, FINALLY:

To also tie us over, I am opening both my personal account as well as this account to questions.

Questions regarding the process, the story, the best movie out in theaters, whatever. I will be answering your questions (as fast as I can) until that last Artists Highlight day (Friday, May 24th). After this day, I will leave the questions answered up for a week, and then remove/delete them from this account. I want to make this more of an archive of sorts and will be updating the Timeline Page as this progresses as well, so you can move freely within the timeline.

Keep in mind that I am only one person, have a family and a full-time job-- so answers may be sporadic, but I will answer them.

This has truly been such a pleasure. And whether I get questions or not, I see you and I appreciate you. I hope your life is filled with everything you ever want, everything you need, and that you never let it go.

🦊 🧡- Kelysium

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #tkm #the kings men #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #hockey blurb #hockey writing #boston bruins #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman writing #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman fanfiction #jeremy swayman x ofc #jeremy swayman x oc #jeremy swayman x reader

[nexa00x]

Hellooo, this is a Tokyo Rev ask and I was really interested in the Mikey post u made abt him as a bf realistically since canonically he’s one of the top worst. So i was wondering, what do you think of Keisuke Baji taking number 1 place as best lover? 👀

Hello! Baji is an angel despite his wild personality. I see him as a watchdog, like in that panel in the last timeline when Takemichi meets Mikey and acts like a puppy. He's not interested in a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean he's immune to falling in love or anything.

After doing this, he probably be that guy who stands silently next to his crush in class while blushing, but his scary face makes your subconscious ignore that he's turning red as a tomato. He will probably try 10 times harder to be a good student to impress his crush.

He gets upset with himself when you find out he's in a gang, he thinks it will push you away (it would push me away, but it depends on the person).

He is faithful, either you betray him or one of you stops loving the other, because only then will the love relationship with him end. I feel like he wouldn't want you to get hurt in any way, so he's always tried to hide that he's in a gang to avoid getting in trouble.

Someone like Baji, who despite being aggressive is at the same time affectionate in his own way, and who is willing to do things that many people wouldn't do like suicide is proof that he is not only a good boyfriend, but also a good friend ...actually he's good at everything.

You probably met him thanks to stray animals, or you always fed them or you always went to their pet store. He would probably arrive talking to you about cats and the conversation would flow. Every day you went there to feed the cats and he does that too, not because of you, but because of the cats. But over time it becomes attached to you and ends up appearing there for both you and the cats.

He's the type to behave like an older brother. He doesn't get jealous, he just gets suspicious when someone approaches you. As already stated in the character's book, Baji prefers to resort to violence and before a conversation, this wouldn't change much when you were dating; If he feels like hitting someone who takes up a lot of his time, just prepare your emergency kit to take care of the person he hits later.

I see him declaring himself on an important day like Valentine's Day, Christmas or New Year's, his declaration would have been 100% his and 50% Chifuyu and Ryusei's advice. Baji, like Chifuyu, reads manga, I don't remember if it was here which category he reads, but I'm sure he was inspired by it...

Obviously everything would go wrong. Some delinquent behind him trying to fight, or him simply having brain problems because he forgot what he was going to say. In the end he was only able to declare himself even in serious moments, like moments of near death where he said something like:

"don't give up on me yet, damn it! I haven't even had time to tell you how I feel!"

That alone would be enough for days later for you to talk and resolve the matter and he would simply have to say everything. But that would take years...Baji is a man of steps when it comes to love.

First step would be trust, second would be time, third would be moments together, fourth would be denial of feelings towards you, fifth would be denial and disgust at himself for having these feelings for you, sixth would finally be acceptance of his feelings for you, seventh would be his mental adaptation to all of this, eighth would be gathering courage, and ninth would finally be his declaration. But make no mistake, each stage takes time, in the end only the fourth stage would take a few years.

Baji isn't the physical type either, in fact most Asians aren't very into physical affection. But a hug from him wouldn't bother him, just raise a question in his head.

Him trying hard not to see his mother cry, killing himself for Kazutora is proof that this man would do whatever he could to keep you happy.

He would probably, like Draken, neglect you. the only way to have a perfect relationship with him is to be like him, wild and involved with Toman. Not only would it bring you closer together, but it wouldn't leave you as attention-hungry as our poor Emma.🥺

And these are my thoughts on Baji, if there is anyone with other opinions please let me know, I like talking about it. each person has a different point of view. I was never very close to him, so I only remember a few things...

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji x you #tokrev

[sluts4matt]

SECRET (part three)

pairing: nate doe x sls!erika sturniolo

summary: she had hidden her feelings away for years, but with growing up and toxic relationships it was all starting to resurface.

warnings: none

word count: 1283

authors note: i'm sorry updates for this are so slow. edit: sorry for not posting this last night my little brother was in need of cuddles to sleep.

view my master list here

the past two weeks had been agonizing. i wasn't allowed to hang out with nate for a month. yet here he was, sitting in the living room after school playing play station with the boys.

i rubbed my hands over my face, sighing as i walked down the stairs towards the kitchen. "hey erika," nate greeted, causing me to smile. "hey nate," i say, getting a juice from the fridge.

"where's mom?" i ask.

"garage maybe?" nick said, looking away from his phone for a split second to look at me. "thanks," i say, shooting him air guns.

"mom!" i call, walking towards the garage. "mooooom!"

"what erika?" my mom says, poking her head out from behind the garage door.

"can kayla come over?" i ask, looking at her with pleading eyes. she sighs and shrugs her shoulders. "yes! thank you!" i exclaim, smiling widely. "thank you thank you!"

i run over and kiss her cheek, making her laugh. "open doors," marylou states with pointed fingers, "open doors." i roll my eyes and smile at her, nodding.

i pull my phone out of my pocket and dial kayla's number. "hello?"

"my mom said you can come over," i say excitedly. "be there in five," the girl on the other side giggles.

"she's gonna be here in five!" i yell, walking up the stairs. i get no response from any of the guys, and sigh, knowing they can't hear me over their own voices.

i go into my room and change into a new shirt, tossing my previous one into the hamper. i sit at my desk and wait for kayla, "i'm here!" a voice exclaims, making me turn to the doorway.

"she's here," i repeat, giving her a hug. "what first? gossip about sydney?" she asks, i roll my eyes at the mention of one of the girls we hated the most. the only true reason being she was rude as hell.

"no," i say, sitting back down, "how are things going with you and jay?" she groans and plops onto my bed, her eyes closed.

"not well," she groans. i give her a questioning look and she sits up. "i'm pretty sure he has a thing for someone else," she huffs, her hands moving wildly around her face.

"no," i deadpan, "what? no way. i thought he really liked you?"

"that's what i thought," she sighs, looking up.

"i'm so sorry kay," i whisper, hugging her again.

"it's fine," she laughs, her mood changing. "so, let's talk about you," she smirks. "not much there," i say, not mentioning anything about nate.

"sure," she chuckles. "oh, did you hear about the party at liz's house?" she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

"liz? party? you've got to be kidding," i scoff, laughing a bit. "my mom would never let me go, especially not right after i just got busted for smoking and drinking," i tell her.

"that's why sneaking out is a fun thing to do," she says and i shake my head. "did it once, do it twice it becomes a habit," i state.

"oh come on," she whines.

"kay, if i get caught, i'm done," i stress. "fine," she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"you can go," i say, her eyes lighting up, "but i can't, kay." she smiles and hugs me. "thanks eri," she says, standing up. "i'll see you at school," she says, walking out of the door.

"bye!"

a few days later, it was the weekend, and i was bored. the boys were on a trip to california and kayla was sick. i sighed as i watched the tv hung on my wall, changing the show every so often.

knocks sounded from my door, causing me to turn my head. "it open," i call. the door opens, showing my mom's face as she peaks her head in.

"i'm going shopping, need anything?" she asks, i shake my head and she shuts the door. a few moments later i hear her car leaving and the sound of the garage shutting.

i walk downstairs and check the time on my phone. 10:49 in big white letters, i groan, tugging at my brown roots.

"i should dye my hair," i say to myself, pulling my phone back out to google ideas.

after 30 minutes, i had a few good ones, i instacarted black and red hair dye to the house, as well as hair bleach and began the process.

i grabbed bowels, going to the bathroom where i set out old and stained towels.

i took a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror. "don't fuck up," i mumble to myself. i wet my hair, then began adding the bleach after mixing the toner and developer together.

as i applied the bleach, i foiled the strands. when i finished i set a timer for thirty minutes as i waited for the bleach to do its job.

after the timer went off, i rinsed my hair, the water running a gross, pale-yellow color down the drain. i washed my hair with purple shampoo to tone it, drying my hair some with a towel before parting it down the middle of my head.

i opened the red dye first, squeezing the contents of the tube out. i sectioned the hair on the left side and began adding the dye.

i repeated the steps until the whole left side of my head was covered in the red dye.

i repeated the steps with the black, waiting an hour for it to develop on my head before i rinse.

after i rinsed, i wrapped a towel around my head, blow-drying my hair and brushing through it. when i pulled the towel off, i smiled, running my fingers through the soft, now black and red strands.

i took a snap sending it the kayla, with the text 'thoughts??'.

'omg!'

'you look hot!'

'so much better than that boring brown'

i smiled at her texts, feeling a little more confident with my appearance. i put stuff away, throwing the empty tubes of dye in the trash and washing the bowels that held the contents.

i ran upstairs, grabbing my phone and flopping on my bed. i scrolled through tiktok, stopping to watch videos every now and then.

as i was about to fall asleep, my phone rang, making me jump. my mom's name popping up on my phone, the options accept or decline flashing.

"yeah?" i say, answering the phone. "be there in five, i need help carrying in groceries," she says. "ok," i reply, getting off of the bed as the phone goes dead.

i slip on some shoes and walk outside, the cold breeze blowing against my warm skin. i see my mom's car pulling up, before it pulls into the driveway. "you changed your hair," she states, getting out.

the trunk pops open, revealing the back loaded with grocery bags. "i was bored, do you like it?" you ask. she runs her fingers through it, squinting slightly due to the sun.

"looks good on you sweetheart," she says, smiling.

we make multiple trips, bringing in bags as fast as we can. "how was shopping?" i ask, helping her put the stuff away. "fine," she breathes, putting canned foods on a shelf.

"you have work later?" she asks, and i nod my head, "six o'clock sharp." she nods her head, "when's dad getting off work?" i ask, "four," she replies, checking the time.

"what's for dinner?" i ask, closing the fridge and grabbing my phone. "probably spaghetti," she says, "can you help set the table when it's time?"

i nod my head, "yep," i say and then go back upstairs.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolhoe @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chriss @l5ka @sturnlovr @blahbel668 @sturncakez @livvy4realll @raysmayhem-72 @jnkvivi @mssturniolo

#matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nate doe #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #nathan doe #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic #nathan doe x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Script progress + Updates💙

Hello and welcome new followers, long time no see! I was very busy most of this month, but I am back and ready to continue from where I left off on the game! This game development post might be a bit long but I tried to condense everything! :]

"How are things going so far?":

It's going slow and steady! I haven't been able to do too much these past few weeks, however, I wrote a few parts out before I got too busy and couldn't do anything else.

I want to be very careful when it comes to spoilers but, based on your choices, some of these areas will give off immersive cozy/homelike vibes that really express Noah and the player(Y/N)'s view towards each other. In the old 2023 script I was very new to writing so the small semi-hints of romance weren't the entire focus compared to the horror aspect but there's a better balance between both genres now and I'm still aiming for a meaningful slow burn versus it just being all over the place. :] I liked writing them a whole bunch which lead to a lot of these taking place in the mid/end of Day 4+, they just need to be placed in specific areas that call for it. With that being said, it felt really comfy adding key details about Noah and creating meaningful sections in the game. I was even going to draw out some of the unseen script/scenes but I believe the best thing to do is give deeper lore from the [Extended Demo] first. Even though my writing style has improved I still have to fix the multiple pacing issues I wrote last year.

"Playtester's advice":

I wanted to continue working through Noah's backstory but I kept having moments where I'd get sidetracked into wanting to fix up the start of the game again. Eventually, I talked to my play testers about it and they gave me a few encouraging pointers.

To help keep my process at ease, I will fix the beginning of the game when I take breaks from writing up Noah's backstory. :]

I talked about this during early 2024 but the start of the game that leads up to the cabin is still getting reworked. I was able to get some of it fixed for the [Extended Demo] but I wasn't done. Things are still up in the air but, I will say that I have a better view of everything than I did before. :] Another priority that needs fixing are the backgrounds! I've improved a lot on drawing and they need to be optimized. When you first start up the game, you wake up in a holed out tree in the swamp with the choice to leave this area and possibly end up in the forest. I was going for a very immersive form of symbolism that only a few noticed but, I believe I can do a better job about this. Unfortunately I don't have any new backgrounds to show right now but maybe next week I'll have some finished up! :]

"Art process/Noah's sprite sheets":

As far as Noah sprite sheet goes, it's still in sketch mode.

I didn't draw anything since I was gone so I need to do a few warm ups before I get to them. There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and old sketches that I never got a chance to doodle so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

My Q&A / Ask box has been reset!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks in the past, unfortunately they all disappeared except for 1 while I was gone. I have no idea what happened but I can only guess it just got reset.

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask or resend them in here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and patience while I was gone! I was ready to accept the interest for this game to fade out and coming back to see that it didn't happen makes me happy, I really appreciate it. :,]

#te updates #male yandere #visual novel #dating sim #yandere #illustration #digital art #murder sim #game development #horror game #art #artwork #artists on tumblr #indie game #otome #drawing #romance #anime drawing #anime art #vndev

[dailyhelldorm]

2024 Spring New Profiles

Translation included new profiles, spring voice lines, and other things I can think of in this post.

New profiles

Translator's note: I based my translation on ENstars's profiles to make the comparison easily when you read them inside the EN game.

Other than that, I said f-ck it and ball.

Messing up when singing is no good, I need to concentrate.

Shiratori Aira

CV: Amasaki Kohei

The lovely with thorns

Aira is an idol who is also a big fan of other idols. He is a quarter French because his mother is half French and half Japanese. Aira is amiable, outgoing, and brave. Although he thinks of himself as a plain person, Aira also has low self-esteem due to his past underachieving feelings. He has grown a lot, facing forward along with other people around him. Aira has a clear and pure singing voice, and his performance is filled with a lot of fanservice. Aira is a member of ALKALOID at STARMAKER PRODUCTION.

As an idol, he strives to grow more so he can someday be someone else's favorite idol. Aira intends to be more active with his involvement, like working on his unit’s live performance.

Profile

167cm/53kg

Blood type: B

Age: 16 (ES second year, on Apr 1st)

Birthday: Nov 27th

Hobbies: Studying Idols, Collecting idol goods, Updating SNS

Specialty: Knowledge about idols

Since I was born anyway, won’t it be wasted to not enjoy my life?

Tenshouin Eichi

CV: Midorikawa Hikaru

The idol conductor performing dreams

Eichi is the Idol representative for STARMAKER PRODUCTION. He is calm and thoughtful. He also has a love for idols deeper than anyone else, thus, he often gives them harsh trials to overcome. He has a delicate and soft singing voice, and his performance is always elegant and classy. Eichi is the leader of fine at STARMAKER PRODUCTION.

He has raised idols to the global level, and Eichi himself also strikes to be the top idols like his beloved ones. He is currently holding in check his personal work, but thinking about his well-being makes Eichi reconsider increasing them.

Profile

179cm/59kg

Blood type: O

Age: 19 (ES second year, on Apr 1st)

Birthday: Jan 10th

Hobbies: Making black tea, playing piano

Specialty: Chess, Skill Imitation

As long as everyone desires, may this radical, immoral, and sweet night ever lasting!

Sakuma Rei

CV: Masuda Toshiki

The demon king luring you into dark night

A self-proclaimed vampire who possesses a wealth of knowledge, but he is weak under the sun so he needs to try his best in the daytime. He is calm and thoughtful, holding the charisma that can attract other people. He dotes on his younger brother Sakuma Ritsu. His singing voice is mellow and refined, and his performance is majestic and powerful. A member of Rhythm Link, as well as UNDEAD's leader.

He challenges himself with new things, and strives to live on as a normal human and as an idol.

Profile

180cm/62kg

Blood type: B

Age: 20 (ES second year, on Apr 1st)

Birthday: Nov 2nd

Hobbies: Learning languages, drinking wine, reading, watching movies

Specialty: Playing instruments, discerning eye.

New 2024 Spring Voice Lines

To hear the lines, please view this thread on twitter.

Aira

Morning: “When you are being supported by your favorite idols, the moment the new season arrives, it also gives you the feeling to work harder right? Everyone, please do your best!”

Noon: “Have you had lunch yet? If not, how about we go together to a restaurant that serves seasonal spring vegetables?”

Evening: “When I was out shopping with Hiro-kun, we found a flower bed so pretty that I unconsciously took a photo of it. I got a really nice pic of it ♪”

Night: “When I was cleaning my bag, I found a petal inside it. Since when did it get inside huh?”

Eichi

Morning: “When I look at the blooming street filled with flowers, I can't help but feel joy. I can feel the warm spring has come to visit.”

Noon: “Fhuwah… I have let you see my inappropriate side. But since it is spring, even I can feel a little bit sleepy.”

Evening: “Maybe I will go out for a short walk right now. Don't worry, I will return before my body gets cold.”

Night: “As a way to enjoy the spring’s night, everyone in ‘fine’ decided to hold a little tea party. Do you want to join?”

Rei

Morning: “If one stays up until dawn, they can see a beautiful sunrise. They often say spring is daybreak(*) after all ♪”

Noon: “When I look up at the beautiful spring sky, I can see Hibiki-kun’s air balloon. He looks like he has fun flying in the air.”

Evening: “I went and bought too many dangos… so I called Sakasaki-kun up and we enjoyed the treats together ♪”

Night: “Have you seen the released magazine the other day? What do you think, me and the night sakura tree in the background look quite picturesque, don't you think?

(*) Note: he means the most beautiful spring moment is at dawn. It's a reference to Sei Shonagon’s poet.

New Office Interactions

Currently moving to a new post because the amount of interactions is too much.

New Gacha Screenshots

Aira: Turning all the love and appreciation feelings into strength... I will show you, I will fly higher with my wings!

Eichi: I will brighten this world, with the shining stars known as idols.

Rei: The solemnity of the demon king reigning darkness... Shall you burn it deep into your eyes...

Old lines (with audio) Aira: Sending all my love to the fans out there in the world, Aira~bu ♪ Eichi: I shall grant your wishes. Toward our dream we desire. Rei: Come, the late night is the time of mine...

New Bloomed lines

From this thread (with audio)

Aira: Little by little, I come closer to the idol vision I have dreamed of.

Eichi: With your hands and mine, we shall continue to perform our beautiful melody.

Rei: Always standing still in one place is no good, I attempt to advance forward as well.

Old lines Aira: I, I wonder can I become ‘a good idol’ too… ♪ Eichi: I work hard for instants like this, for moments when I can recall the feeling of happiness. Rei: A demon king shall not only reign the night but this whole world as well ♪

#eichi tenshouin #translation #rei sakuma #aira shiratori #dorm translation #enstars translation

[quillonalark]

My Mom keeps asking if I've seen my sister's posts on facebook and I keep saying no.

No.

I don't check facebook. I don't post there. No. I haven't seen it. No, I still don't check my facebook.

So she decided to show me a post. A comic posted in a slideshow.

She held up her laptop and clicked through, reading off panels to me.

A little cartoon man waves.

"This year is almost over.

Been a tough year right.

I have something for you."

A triumphantly waved ribbon.

"I'm happy that you've made it this far and are still with me."

The ribbon is gently stuck to a mirror.

"Thanks for being strong and staying strong.

Let's carry on."

My Mother starts laughing at the twist as she's still reading.

"Isn't that terrible?"

She says, still laughing.

Isn't that terrible.

To take a quiet moment alone, to reflect on a difficult year, to give credit for a tenacious survival, and to hold your soul gently while you gather up the courage to do it again the next year.

I felt confused and irritated and, I realized only later, grieved.

I was raised to burn.

She taught me how to strike a match and light myself to keep other people warm.

Sometimes by example.

Sometimes when she lit the fire under the altar where I was sacrificed for my parents' happiness.

I am ablaze and my mother is laughing at the fire extinguisher.

But I am not what they raised me to be.

From my ashes I will forge love, and tenderness, and community.

I will lean on my friends, the ones who smell like smoke and still have foam in their hair from putting their own fires out.

I will be proud of myself. I will hold my younger self gently in my hands and thank her for surviving the flames.

I will love her more, because my mother couldn't love her enough.

I will be beautiful, and I will be terrible, and I will survive.

Let's carry on.

#wrote this a month ago #but new years feels like the right moment to post it #my mom isnt a supervillain #but people that love you very much can hurt you #and in a lot of ways she never learned to put her own fires out #i will love myself younger self gently #for those who couldnt #🧯 #happy 2023 #i am going to survive this year if it kills me

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

#Because otherwise I can feel I won't last much longer #Because like. The last two hyperfixations of mine ended the moment I started feeling like there wasn't any new content #And two days ago in one day I started a new manga a new book and rewatching a favourite show #Whereas I hadn't started anything new in the two years ever since I got into bsd. Which makes it NOT a good sign #But the bsd anime has now ended for one month and 25 days and that's the last time the plot actually moved forward. #And if I counted right. The manga took 4 chapters (that is chapters 110-111) to adapt 6 minutes #That means it's going to take another 12 months (18 minutes left to adapt. that's 12 more chapters) to catch up with the anime #Yeah I'm not. sticking around this long with nothing new to see I'm sorry #Best case scenario I take a one year hiatus but that doesn't make it sound likely that I'll be back #And I know it's fresh news as early as this morning that author said they were introducing a new character but like. #They also said they finished writing this arc like. One year and half ago if I remember correctly? #And we still have yet to see the end of i t so... #That is to say. I'll probably be starting an anime rewatch starting next Wednesday. I've been meaning to do it for a while anyway #I don't want to leave the fandom I like the one chapter a month format #On the positive news I still have a queue of original posts that spans over ten months #And I was meaning to start the reblogs queue too in these days. So there's that #random rambles

[heymacy]

💛

#hello little stars #i've missed you so #wee update on me: i'm actually doing quite well at the moment #things were a little iffy there for a minute but i'm in a very healthy mental space right now #i feel more like myself than i have in a long time #which is a very welcome thing #unfortunately during the process of obtaining said healthy mental state my shameless hyperfixation abruptly broke into pieces #it isn't that i don't still have love for the show - i do - i just don't feel consumed by it anymore #it doesn't occupy the same space in my brain that it once did #instead that space has been opened up to new interests and ideas and hobbies and yes even the occasional new blorbo #and i will not lie to y'all - it feels good #as to the future of this account i think it's going to become less of a fandom blog and more of a whatever-i-feel-like-posting blog #a scrapbook of my interests where i put stickers of shows and movies i like on the page and scribble my most incoherent thoughts #a personal blog if you will #i'm very grateful for the last three years of my life and all the things + people this show brought to me #but it just isn't IT for me anymore - y'know? #anyway #if you've read this far - i love you #i've missed you #come say hi #i promise i don't bite #also a URL change will probably be coming in the near future so if you're like um who the HELL is that?! it's probably me #blessed be my babies #ily very much

[b4kuch1n]

small update! much less sick now, fully on the mend. the comic's literally 3/4 done but I will not be posting it (along with all the other s&co stuff Ive been doodling) this week, in accordance with the global strike. I'll be finishing up and rounding out the rest of the e-sim donation comms instead, as well as highlighting similar drives and other fundraising efforts. thank you for your time

#bakuspeech #that cold med was. insane. idk whats in it but it was like u got a cold? go into a coma NOW #and then u wake up cured. its fucked up #entire thing in japanese too so I have to real time camera google translate that shit. literally potion taking experience #but yeah that is! the schedule for this week #I was Drawing the moment I got back from lunar new year... even tho I also immediately got sick #like. I think it was wild how much I was immediately Raring to draw. feel like this also happened last year before The Whammy #or rather. the year before. mhu year #so! there will be s&co art post-strike. wanted to get this finished before the new ep so I can technically be in time for the gloria scott #but solidarity is solidarity! all of us or none of us. #okay now I return to work. finishing this up and then getting into the list #have a good day! happy year of the dragon! that ursula k le guin quote about the divine rights of kings!

[da-proti-toku-grem]

feeling like a total asshole today 👍

#an aunt's mom passed away yesterday night #i didn't really know her that much just spoke to her a few times for the typical merry christmas & happy new year you know #so when my mom told me i felt bad for my aunt bc i knew they were really close but i don't feel SAD #but my parents seemed to be like so shocked and sad and my little brother even started crying #and i felt absolutely nothing #idek what my mom saw in my face but she went like 'don't you feel anything?' and like wtf am i supposed to feel #like. i'm sorry for my aunt and everything but i just????? #that already made me feel like an absolute asshole but now we have to go there (like 2hours away by car) #and because i am an adult now i *have* to go to the funeral home (?) today and to the funeral tomorrow #and i REALLY don't want to and thought it's making me so fucking anxious bc i haven't been there since my grandma passed away 2 years ago #i really don't want that feeling that i felt back then to come back #not right now #not when i've been starting to feel a bit better this past week #but i'm already failing at that because they started to come back the moment i was told i have to go #and i feel like a fucking asshole because my aunt's mom literally passed away and she (and her whole family) must be heartbroken right now #and all i can think about is that i'm anxious #i'm anxious to go back there. i'm anxious just thinking that i'll have to express my condolences to people that i don't even know #i'm anxious because i'll have to TALK to people and at least try to look a bit SAD but i can't just fake it #bc if i don't look sad my brain tells me that i'm an asshole that doesn't have feelings like apparently everyone around me has #but if i fake it my brain tells me that i'm an asshole bc why tf do i have to fake my fucking personality #why can't i just express my fucking feelings like normal people do and the only thing that i know how to do is fucking complain #like. i know i rant a lot here but it's literally the only place where i talk about my feelings #i NEVER talk about my feelings with anyone because idk HOW to do it #i have like a million things in my mind that i want to tell my mom or my therapy for example but when i finally convince myself to do it #i just CAN'T. the thoughts won't leave my mouth because i don't know how to phrase them properly #so nothing ever leaves my mind unless i make a post here bc apparently writing my thoughts in english (my 2nd language) #is easier than talking in spanish #and at least if i write them here they don't just stay bottled up in my mind #but i'm too tired of myself and my stupid brain that tells me that i do everything wrong :/ #i'm gonna shut up now bc i once again reached the tag limit

[magentagalaxies]

happy birthday to the incredible paul bellini!!! may this be the best bellini day ever

(picture on the left is from the first mouth congress concert i went to last december and picture on the right is from my first ever zoom with paul bellini which is going to be exactly a year ago in a few weeks. so surreal how far our friendship has come since then, he's genuinely like family now)

#uncle paul <3 #i should make a ''top ten paul bellini moments'' thing some day. the chia pet story is number one #but also shoutout to literally the first thing he ever said to me on that zoom #i was like ''just so you know i'm feeling a little starstruck right now'' and he was deadpan like ''you'll get over it in 5 minutes.''' #and i did <3. but just because i'm not starstruck doesn't mean i've ever stopped being excited that he knows who i am #also i'm like 99% sure that i reminded the kith instagram to make a bellini post today lmao. i posted this exact thing on instagram #and the kith account liked it and then 5 minutes later posted happy birthday paul bellini like i'm out here reminding people it's bellinida #last thing. this is not a post about scott but can i just take a moment to appreciate how far my friendship with scott has come #just looking at the pics of us together??? #like the one on the left here. that's the first time i ever met scott so obviously he wasn't as familiar with me as paul #so he's just kind of posing doesn't look as excited (plus he was tired it was like 3 a.m. that's fine) #but look at the ''family photo'' i took with all three of my guys in june??? (the one where he's directly next to me) #he looks SO HAPPY by then it's such a difference! like over the course of those months he did get to know me better #and now any time i'm in town it's a whole Event with everyone trying to get their jess-time lmao #as i was falling asleep last night i was thinking about how different that new year's eve trip would be if i went up this year vs last year #just bc everyone knows me a lot better #and it just makes me so happy. character development all around

[hella1975]

forever wishing sam fender would unrelease dead boys

#it’s like the moment I get a glimmer of hope for my hometown it reminds me of how awful it is #I feel like I’m screaming underwater at people like there’s something actually insidious about that town #and I’ve BEEN saying it and it keeps getting written off as youthful angst #bc of COURSE you hate your hometown! everyone hates their hometown! #but now I’m going to another funeral for a boy in my year and it’s another suicide and I don’t even know him #i havent seen him since primary school I have no right to be so upset by this #but I’m just trawling his ig bc he looks the same #he looks the exact same and he hung himself. he was twenty #and ofc he’s connected to my family bc everyone is in that fucking town hes like a v distant cousin #so we know the news first like so many of his friends are out having a nice night rn #and I’m here with this knowledge despite not knowing him. like tomorrow someone is going to find out their best mate killed himself #the police are literally still at his house and my mum is telling me she loves me because it’s ALWAYS the boys in my year group #like off the top of my head alone bc i KNOW it’s more ive already lost six boys in my year and I’m 20 #how many kids have to die before my hometown stops being such a shithole #sorry for the vent post i dont even know why this has gutted me so much #maybe bc the only memory i have of this boy is between the ages of 5-11 so I literally ONLY know him as a child #like he was so happy I can only remember him smiling and just. what went so wrong after that? he had spiky hair and gap teeth #and now I’ve been told that he hung himself and I just #god. i don’t even know anymore #I’ll never forgive that town #hella goes home