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joelswritingmistress · 4 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 1

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Eventually Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Abnormal Psychology. It was among the final requirements to successfully complete the Master's Degree I had been working on for nearly two-and-half years.

Slow and steady wins the race. It was a common mantra that I continually used to motivate and justify the turtle-like pace of my educational progress. Working full time and refusing to take online courses were the two main factors contributing to the prolonged nature of my tenure at Woodbridge University. I had nothing against online learning. It just simply wasn't for me. Call me a geek but I genuinely enjoyed the classic classroom setting.

It was mid January. The younger generation of college students were loathing their frigid trek to whatever night classes they had been forced into signing up for the semester before. It was an assumption; though I had been there, done that. I knew what they were feeling on that first night of spring semester classes. As an adult, my feelings had transformed. I was eager.

The seventy-thirty class began right on time and I could still taste the dinner on my breath that I had hurried to inhale in the car on my ride in. The thought exited my mind as quickly as it had entered when the professor walked in, promptly shutting the oversized mahogany door behind him and locking it.

The click echoed off the walls of the stadium-style auditorium and everyone appeared to freeze where they sat. No professor in all of my graduate or undergraduate studies had ever locked the door.

What if there's a fire? That was my first, anxious thought. Again, it swiftly floated away when the finely-dressed stranger before us began to speak. His voice was deep; a bit scratchy. It felt like his vocal chords were made to narrate one of those Planet Earth shows.

"I'm sure you all know by now my name is Dr. Miller. If you didn't know at least that much by now.." He paused as he sat down on the edge of an oversized, wooden desk centered perfectly at the head of the room and removed a pair of glasses. ".. I'd have to wonder how the fuck you made it this far in your education."

My eyebrows lifted at his casual use of profanity in the first introductory sentence. I looked to my left and right, as most of the others in the class did, and amongst the silence there were a few stray chuckles that tested out the room's acoustics.

When I looked back, Dr. Miller was smirking. "Well that woke you up, didn't it?" He rose to his feet again and put his hands out to the sides. "Look.. I know you're all working. Maybe some of you have families. Maybe not. It's seven-thirty at night and you'd probably rather be getting ready to watch The Bachelor with a glass of wine."

There was more collective laughter now and his eyes scanned the room, both amused and almost as if they were searching to see who was smiling and who was still cautious. There was a genuine, curious nature to the way his eyes danced over the crowd.

"This class will be worth your while," he went on. "You're here for a reason and I intend to pump those big brains of yours with all the information I can." Dr. Miller smiled wider now, highlighting a pair of boyish dimples beneath a trim, salt and pepper beard, "Welcome to Abnormal Psychology."

He sure knew how to captivate an audience. The delivery of the first bout of information had me laughing, pondering answers to questions I never would have thought of and desperately scribbling notes down in my yellow, ninety-eight cent notebook as the class progressed.

I was so interested and so intrigued that I hadn't realized that class was on the verge of concluding until Dr. Miller uttered his words of departure. "I'll see you next class."

And just like that, the first Abnormal Psychology class had ended. I sat there for several seconds before rising to my feet, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and then gave a generous stretch toward the ceiling before beginning my slow climb down the wide, oversized steps.

Half of the class had piled out by the time I reached the ground level. I passed by Dr. Miller and, for some reason, didn't have the confidence to look in his direction.

"So, what'd you think? Hooked yet?" His voice cut through the air and more or less grabbed me and spun me around in his direction. I didn't even know if he was speaking to me until our eyes locked.

"Me?" I glanced over my shoulder - another habit that highlighted my inner insecurities. When I saw his smirk, an expression that I knew held all kinds of unspoken wit behind it, I decided to respond. "Yeah."

Say something else. I couldn't think. I never did well with being put on the spot. Still, I was eager to maintain a conversation.

"I'm really interested in Abnormal Psych. I've been looking forward to this class since I started my Master's."

"The delivery.." he went on, "What did you think? Too much?"

"Just right," I responded too coolly. I almost impressed myself. A red blush filtered into my cheeks and the nervous laugh I let out killed any type of confidence I appeared to have going for me.

Dr. Miller smiled and right then I decided that I thought he was handsome. Crimson filled my cheeks a little deeper and I glanced up toward the few stragglers who were still getting their things together halfway up into the seating area. It was my only means of a quick distraction before I turned back to face my new, slightly unorthodox professor.

He hadn't looked away, and I swallowed hard. "Thanks.." It was all I could manage and I gave a fleeting wave before heading out into the hallway.

It was as if I was reentering the world after being put in a trance for two hours.

On the drive home I wondered if anyone else had felt the same effects that I had. Were the other students in my class still thinking about the class like I was? Did they find Dr. Miller to be the perfect combination of intelligent and.. cool? Was cool even the right word?

Smooth, I corrected the description in my mind and then immediately shook my head. What was I even thinking about? I had known the man for two hours.. two.. and here I was passing judgment as if he we had been in each other's company for an appropriate amount of time to match my opinion.

In my final conscious, cognitive thoughts of the night I, again, reflected back on the fascinating opener of Abnormal Psychology and the riveting professor that taught it. No class I had ever taken was ever interesting enough to consume my final thoughts of the day.

Even less, they never made it into my nightly dreamscapes or nightmares. That night, the images that danced their way into the multiple cortexes of my brain where dreams were concocted were a troubling combination of both.

I heard Dr. Miller's indistinguishable voice narrating the ordeal as I was lost in a forest. A sea of fog swallowed me whole though somehow I knew I was visible to something that was out there. It was haunting. I could not pinpoint what my professor’s role actually entailed. Was he trying to guide me? Hurt me? Lead me away from whatever dangers lurked?

It felt all-too-real when his hands clamped down on my shoulders, finally revealing his presence. I couldn't see his face, though I knew the pair of hands belonged to Dr. Miller.

My overemphasized gasp bridged the realms of dream and reality, and I sat up in bed, a cold sweat coating my body as my mind struggled to recognize my immediate surroundings.

“What the fuck..” I whispered to myself, eyeing the red numbers on the digital clock on my nightstand.

3:37. I sighed and laid back down eying the ceiling fan that swirled in circles around me. Yes, I was one of those people who still needed a fan to sleep in the middle of winter.

I closed my eyes again and it was like coming down off a high. Adrenaline made the thud of my pulse pound in my ears, as if actual quarter-sized drums had been implanted there. In that early morning hour my heart palpitated. Half of it was what I could only interpret as misplaced desire. The other half was outright fear. I never fell back asleep.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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l0n3ly-gh0st205 · 3 months

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Heyo Stranger, if you are like doing request rn can We get more white beard pirate's with child!reader crumbs pls 😌

A/n: Oh my days; ABSOLUTELY ANON!!!! Crumbs are my favorite hehe

Sorry, I responded so late; getting into the vibe of my second quarter at college and dealing with some personal stuff on the side, but! im here to feed the found family enjoyers! (also, I still love my college. It's super fun but stressful! I may post some of my assignments, but we are still in fundamentals rn)

Enjoy! :D

Child!Reader with the WBP!!

[■□□□□□□□□□] 10%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■□□□□] 60%

☆꧁༒Ĺoading. . .༒꧂☆

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

☆꧁༒Complete༒꧂☆

So, in previous posts, I mentioned that Marco and Thatch found a baby in a storm… but don't get me wrong, they're stupid enough to adopt a kid off the streets accidentally.

Obviously, in the new world and on the grand line, there are some not-so-great families/ pirates, so I don't think it's out of the question if a female crew member gets pregnant on a ship for them to, perhaps, dump their unwanted child on a random island and expect them to die or smth

And if the island had a town, then they’d most likely be living on the streets since it’s just another mouth to feed, and no one wants to put a strain on their already delicately crafted lives

But moving on from the sad stuff

Imagine if a toddler reader, just hungry and wanting some clothes for the winter, notices a new ship in the port and tries to steal some food and clothes

And, of course, a lil bby can't really steal too well, either falling into a barrel or easily getting caught by the crew…

Lucky for you, the white beard pirates have a soft spot for kids :D

God, just imagining thatch holding up this scrappy little baby, probably crying big fat tears from getting in trouble, up to white beard being like, ‘So what are we doing with this?’

And white beards’ parental instincts immediately kick in.

So yeah new little sibling :D’

I headcanon Ace as being the previously youngest crew member… so when i tell you he was SO happy someone else was now the ‘baby’ of the family it's insane

Would absolutely pick on you for everything, your age? Lil bby. Your height? Short stack. Hell you could drop a fruit on the floor on accident and ace will make fun of it

But even if he’s a little mean at times he’ll absolutely adore a younger sibling.

Like i imagine that he’ll look at you as kind of away to make up for some of the mean things he did to Luffy when they were young, and to make up for Sabo’s absence, so he’ll be the most defensive on your behalf if someone other than him starts picking on you

but on a little angstier note, that doesn't mean that Ace warmed up to you in the beginning

you were found by the crew shortly after ace was forced joined, and he was still in his lil emo era of hating everything and everyone

So while you were blossoming with all the love and affection your new family was giving you, Ace refused to see you, or any other whitebeard pirates, as his family.

you were probably one of the only reasons why Ace warmed up to the whitebeard pirates, and became so fiercely loyal to them to begin with though

but it was a slow process, and you probably got hurt a bit trying to befriend ace (kinda like luffy in the beginning((i may make a fic of this)))

but once he did warm up to you, and accepted his role as white beard pirate, oh boy!!!!!

will absolutely take care of you and try to mend any damage he did while he was pushing you away, big warm cuddle pile with lots of soft apologize and pinky promises will always be the antidote

also, i dont really need to mention this but ace is warm!! so if reader is still a baby baby, then alot of times when ace was available he’d be incharge of calming you down, since his hold was basically like a big warm blanket that would put you right to sleep

A/n: sorry this is super short, my brain is running on fumes but im still trying to crank out my own artistic stuff inbetween college work, and also trying to get a business and help my room mates animation studio get off the ground

but if you enjoyed this feel free to reblog and comment! i love reading comments!

also my requests are open!

#one piece #one piece x reader #familial x reader #ace x reader #whitebeard pirates x sibling!reader #ace x child!reader #child!reader #x reader

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bitterbeanren · 9 months

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I spent days writing this self-indulgent basically a self-insert/self-ship (but I made it second person with the hopes that others could enjoy it) fic because holy shit am I down bad. Story under the cut.

Jing Yuan x AFAB nonbinary reader. Slow burn. I tried to not mention skin tone either, skin just heats up, warms, etc. because THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS TO ME WHEN I GET EMBARRASSED!!!! Reader has boobs but size aint exactly specified. I think they’re only mentioned like once. Also, like, literally fam I wrote this for me and with my experience as enby in mind, which is gunna be different from other people’s.

This is long. This is bad. This includes some of my favourite tropes. It’s for me, IT’S FOR ME!!! But I wanted to SHARE so yeah.

THERE MIGHT BE SPOILERS MAYBE SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK I HAVE NOT GONE OVER THIS AT ALL I JUST WROTE AND WROTE AND WROTE—

Warnings: character deaths(?), loss of a parent figure, slightly possessive Jing Yuan, author being a bit feral, exactly three underscores being used for your name, and reader has hair on their head for plot reasons. JING YUAN IS TALLER THAN YOU(because he would easily be taller than me ;-;)!!!

Moments in Time

The first time Jing Yuan meets you is after he is taken in by Swordmaster Jingliu. It’s at his new mentor’s estate while he’s still getting used to living there instead of at home— you poke your head out from behind one of the courtyard veranda’s pillars with a grin. The two of you are around the same age, though you might be a bit younger.

Jing Yuan is practicing his strikes, 586, 587, 588… and you watch him with a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Hello!” You greet, he ignores you. 589, 590, 591–

You dart towards him and he stumbles back, keeping his sword in his hand but twirling it so you’re staring up at its flat edge. “Hey!” Jing Yuan snaps at you with a glare, “That’s dangerous, be more careful!”

“You weren’t going to hit me,” you state, poking the blade before returning your gaze to him, smiling. “You’re Jing Yuan, right? I’m Yingxing’s apprentice!”

Sheathing his sword, Jing Yuan quickly wracks his brain— Yingxing… Yingxing… ah, the furnace master of the Artisan Commission. Jingliu’s friend. He remembers the sandy-haired man and Imbibitor Lunae visiting for tea. “I didn’t realize that the furnace master had taken on an apprentice. Is he here as well?”

“Yes! He’s in a meeting with the swordmaster, so I decided to look for you.”

Jing Yuan frowns. “You… decided to look for me?”

“Yeah! Jingliu mentioned you were training, and I wanted to meet you!”

The white-haired boy places one of his hands on his hip, looking at you expectantly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, apprentice swordsmith.”

“Oh, I guess I should have introduced myself better…” you let out a laugh. It’s cute. Then, you hold out your hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Jing Yuan. My name is ___.”

~*~

Whenever Yingxing comes to visit Jingliu, you come along to visit Jing Yuan. You remind the boy of a duckling— you follow behind Yingxing like one, eyes bright, and usually chattering cheerfully. It’s cute… you’re cute, Jing Yuan thinks. Especially when Yingxing ruffles your hair and you pout.

Jing Yuan starts ruffling your hair too, and you complain and scowl, but then you laugh and try to ruffle his unruly hair in response, and Jing Yuan compares you to a sun. Warm, cheerful… your smiles and laughter brightens any space you’re in.

“It’s people like that who we as Cloud Knights aspire to protect,” Jingliu tells him one day, the two of them watching as you animatedly tell Dan Feng a story while Yingxing looks at you and the Vidyadhara fondly. “They’re the ones who make what we’re doing worth it, Jing Yuan.”

The boy nods his head in agreement.

You’re the bright-eyed apprentice of the furnace master, and he’s the apprentice of the swordmaster. As your mentors are friends— along with the High Elder of the Vidyadhara— it makes sense that the two of you would become close as well. And Jing Yuan doesn’t mind.

Whenever you visit, he’s the first one you look for. Jing Yuan teaches you starchess, and you show him sketches of weapons you want to make. Some days you practice basic combat with him in the courtyard. Your mentors sometimes sit on the veranda and watch the two of you while chatting over tea, and once you’re both worn out from training you dart over to claim some snacks for yourselves.

The years pass and Jing Yuan is significantly taller than you now. It’s more difficult for you to ruffle his hair. So now, Jing Yuan mostly just pats the top of your head, only ruffling your hair when he feels particularly playful. Both of you are now in your early twenties: Jing Yuan is an apprentice Cloud Knight and you spend your days designing weapons and continuing your apprenticeship under Yingxing. On your days off, the two of you often sit together in the courtyard where you first met, relaxing under the pomegranate tree and enjoying the shade it provides. You lay on the ground, arms and legs splayed out, and let out a yawn.

“Tired, are you? I hope I’m not boring you, apprentice swordsmith,” Jing Yuan teases.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “Yingxing always scolds me when he catches me napping in the middle of the day, but I just feel so tired sometimes, you know?”

The white-haired apprentice Cloud Knight chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m sure that Master Yingxing is just concerned about you.”

“Yeah, I know. Ugh, it’s so embarrassing— I accidentally called him Dad the other day when he was scolding me,” you groan, covering your eyes with your arm. “He looked so taken aback, I didn’t know what to do.”

Jing Yuan lays down next to you, crossing his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. It’s comfortable. “Really? I assumed that the Furnace Master would be overjoyed to hear that from you. You’ve always acted like a kid around him, and he always struck me as the sort of man who would treat his apprentices like his own children.”

“I—“ you pause, removing your arm from your face. “I mean, you’re not wrong. It’s just… been a bit tough for me to face him lately. He has basically raised me since I became his apprentice over a decade ago, but… it’s a weird situation.”

“Ah…” Jing Yuan lets out a thoughtful hum. He knows you should just talk it out with Yingxing, but understands that it’s a tough thing for you to discuss. Unlike you, the furnace master is a short-lived species— you’ve obviously become attached, and though you’ve spent a good amount of your youth being trained by the man, you knew that he would be gone in the blink of an eye in comparison to you. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, ___. You’re smart, after all.”

“I am smart, aren’t I?” You grin widely at the compliment, then look a bit sad. “I… won’t talk about it much more than this, Yuan, and we should talk about something else soon because I know thinking like this could get me in trouble, but… I wish Yingxing could be long-lived like us. I want him to be around for all my milestones, you know? It’s… selfish.”

“It’s not selfish for you to wish for,” Jing Yuan assures. “Sadly, it is not a wish that can be achieved.”

“I know, I know… let’s change topics now,” you sigh, then turn your head to smile at him. “You have an expedition coming up with Jingliu soon, right? Man, I can’t wait to hear all about it…! Do you think you’re gunna lose another sword?”

“That happened once, ___!”

The two of you banter back and forth for a bit before just enjoying the quiet and the artificial sunlight, and the next thing Jing Yuan knows he’s dozed off.

Later, when he wakes, you’re curled up against his side. Your head is laid on his arm, one of your legs is slung over his, your arm is loosely resting across his waist, and your chest—

Jing Yuan feels his face go hot. Your chest is pressed against his side and now it’s all he can think about. He’s a young man after all— and though you prefer to live as gender neutrally as possible, you have the body of a beautiful… person and it’s one that Jing Yuan is undoubtedly attracted to. Often it’s hard to remember due to your preference for unisex clothing and tops a bit too big for you, but you’ve matured.

“Aeons,” Jing Yuan curses under his breath. When he tries to carefully untangle himself from you, you whine, nuzzling against his arm in your sleep and the white-haired man knows he’s absolutely fucked.

With his other hand, the one attached to the arm you aren’t currently resting on, he runs it down his face, covering his mouth and willing his heart to slow down.

He shouldn’t be attracted to his best friend, but he is. You’re kind, funny, and dedicated— your smile is something that never fails to brighten his day. Everything about you, even your flaws, were things that Jing Yuan found endearing and cute and—

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with you. You snicker a bit in your sleep as though you’re amused by his realization, then roll onto your back, allowing Jing Yuan to gently remove his arm from under your head.

You’re precious to him. You’ve been precious to him for years. For Aeons sake, he can’t figure out when the friendship shared between the two of you blossomed into something more for him.

Before the artificial sun sets, he shakes you awake with a lazy smile and lets you know that you wasted the day napping. You complain that if he was awake, he should have woken you up sooner.

Jing Yuan loves you, he realized it. But he isn’t going to tell you unless you realize it yourself. Instead, he teases you and thinks how he understands now why you’re wary of your attachment to Yingxing, even if his empathy comes from a different place.

After all, the idea of losing you in any way terrifies him.

~*~

You craft something that isn’t a weapon. A floral hair stick with a hair slide, both made of steel.

“And what is this for, Apprentice Swordsmith?” Jing Yuan asks you after you show him.

“It’s for Da—“ you cut yourself off, smiling sheepishly. Ah, you’re still doing that. Thinking of him as your father, but doing your best to use his name and title as if it’ll lessen your attachment. “For Master Yingxing. It’s a gift for his birthday tomorrow. I worked really hard on it— small things like this are much harder to make than weapons... I broke all my other attempts.” You look up into Jing Yuan’s golden eyes, your worries etched on your brow. “Do you think it’s good enough? Should I have crafted him a weapon instead?”

“He’ll love it,” Jing Yuan assures. At his words, you perk up, practically bouncing from foot to foot. “Am I to assume that Master Yingxing’s birthday is the reason why you invited both myself and Master Jingliu to his estate tomorrow night?”

“Yes! I also invited Baiheng and Dan Feng,” you tell your friend cheerfully. “Birthdays are important, after all.” The ‘for short-lived species’ goes unsaid.

“I’m impressed, though,” Jing Yuan picks up the hair stick and slide. “I never thought you of all people would make something so delicate.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, snatching it back and placing it carefully into the box. “I wanted him to have something nice to put in his hair, but I couldn’t find one that I liked in the market… so I figured I could design one myself.”

“It’s well crafted.”

“I’m sure that Master Yingxing could make a better one. He’s so talented— I need to learn as much from him as I can. I mean, look at your guan dao. It’s a work of art— all of the weapons of the High Cloud Quintet are masterpieces.”

Jing Yuan has heard this before. “You should give yourself more credit, Apprentice Swordsmith. The weapons you make for the Cloud Knights—“

“Aren’t good enough,” you interrupt, shaking your head stubbornly. “Not yet.”

Though he doesn’t like it when you’re so hard on yourself, the determined glint in your eyes is more than enough to make his heart flutter. For years, Jing Yuan has allowed his feelings for you to grow, and now they simmer under the surface of every action, word, and thought towards you.

You tuck the box into your bag, then reach out and clasp Jing Yuan’s hand between yours, beaming up at him. Your smile is a sun and it’s all he can do to revolve around you. “I’ve gotta go and pick up supplies for the party tomorrow— see you then?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan replies, grinning back down at you.

The next day, Jing Yuan arrives at the Yingxing estate with Jingliu, whose red eyes are cold but soften slightly when Yingxing waves at them from the courtyard. She’s close to them, but not with Jing Yuan. The spider lilies are in bloom in the garden, and the leaves of the courtyard’s maple tree almost match them. The aging man stands tall in his casual clothes as they approach, smiling brightly, his long, sandy hair blowing slightly in the breeze. “Jingliu! Jing Yuan! It’s good to see you both, are you well?”

“Yes,” Jingliu answers with a curt nod, a smile forming on her lips as she rests a hand on her hip. “Happy birthday, Yingxing. Have you enjoyed it thus far?”

“I have! Dan Feng arrived earlier and is currently helping ___ bring dinner into the sitting room. Baiheng is there, too,” Yingxing turns around, showing off hair accessories that Jing Yuan recognizes. “And look what my kid made me! Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Your kid?” Jingliu lets out a short laugh. “It’s… sweet how attached you are to your apprentice.”

“They called me dad, Liu. Let me be happy about it,” the furnace master chuckles. “We practically raise our apprentices, after all. And ___ will probably be my only one,” Yingxing adds. His expression changes slightly for a moment, sad, but then he grins and gestures towards the main house. “Let’s go join the others.”

“…Yeah,” Jing Yuan’s master nods. Her expression is more guarded, now, and she glances over her shoulder at Jing Yuan. “You better not be thinking of calling me Mom, Jing Yuan.”

Ah.

As Yingxing bursts into laughter, Jing Yuan understands. This is yet another difference between short-lived and long-lived species… and his master is trying to cheer her friend up. Jingliu is, at times, stubborn to a fault, but she quickly realized what she needed to do for her friend after unintentionally reminding him of his mortality.

Jing Yuan smiles, following after the woman he respects so much. “What, you won’t find it cute if I did?”

“Not at all. It would be much cuter coming from ___.”

“I’m hurt, Master.”

“I agree with Liu— ___ is far cuter than you in every way, Jing Yuan,” Yingxing teases. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

“You’re correct,” Jing Yuan smiles. “___ is incredibly cute. I don’t think a cuter person exists.”

Yingxing shoots Jing Yuan a knowing look, and Jing Yuan grins back at him boyishly. Jingliu lets out a small sigh, and the three continue to walk towards the main house. “Are you ever going to tell them, Jing Yuan?”

“I’m waiting for them to realize it themself,” the white-haired knight replies. The three of them drop the conversation as they enter the building, seeing you balancing multiple plates while Baiheng and Dan Feng arrange the dishes on the table.

“Jing Yuan!” Your eyes lock onto his instantly, and a happy look spreads across your face. Then, you look at your mentor and his. “Welcome back, Dad! And hello, Jingliu!”

Jing Yuan smiles. You two must have finally talked it out.

“One would almost think that it’s your birthday today with how excited you are, little ___,” Jingliu comments, crossing her arms.

“I’m just really happy that everyone showed up to celebrate Dad’s birthday with him today!” You respond easily, and the sandy-haired man chuckles, ruffling your hair fondly.

Though you’re all adults, the other four members of the High Cloud Quintet sometimes treat you and Jing Yuan like you’re still kids at these events. The two of you sit together, pouring sweet wine for your elders and feeling happy. At the square table, only three sides are used. Baiheng sits next to Jingliu, Yingxing and Dan Feng sit together, and you sit at the corner between Dan Feng and Jing Yuan. You take pictures of everyone and pass food around and drink along with them, your smile never leaving your face even when it’s time to say goodnight.

Yingxing has an arm slung around your shoulders as you grin up at him in the courtyard with everyone under the maple tree. “Dad, Dad! Did you have a good birthday?” You ask the older man, who ruffles your hair with his other hand.

“Of course I did. I can’t wait for next year.”

Dan Feng watches the two of you with a fond expression, and Jing Yuan feels his heart clench as he realizes that the corners of Yingxing’s eyes didn’t used to crinkle like that when he smiled.

Every year, Yingxing looks a bit older than the rest of his friends.

~*~

Time takes away from you, again and again.

Dan Feng is going to be forced to reincarnate and lose all his memories. None of you are allowed to see him. Once his new incarnation comes of age, he’ll be banished. At the same time, Yingxing is being kept under close watch by you and the remaining members of the High Cloud Quintet.

You’re mad at both of them, but you still feel grateful. Your wish came true, but it’s at the cost of someone else that you cherish. You’re heartbroken, but Yingxing is your dad. He’s the one who taught you how to use the forge, the one who encouraged you, the one who would help bandage your burns, cuts, or scrapes.

For the next century you enjoy your borrowed time. He teaches you more and more and more. Then the mara strikes him— his sandy hair turns black. His eyes change, and he doesn’t recognize you anymore.

“…Dad?”

He doesn’t smile at you. Doesn’t call you his kid, something that always made you happy even though you weren’t a kid anymore. His arms are bound behind his back and he stares at you with empty eyes, now blood red.

“He’s gone, ___,” Jingliu tells you. She looks tired. “…To be struck with mara is to be a long-lived species. It just… happened sooner than we expected after what happened.”

It hurts more, this way. Before, you knew he would be gone before you, but after what Dan Feng and Yingxing had done you let yourself believe that maybe you would still have one of them around for a long time.

It hurts more, this way. Now Dan Feng is gone, and though physically Yingxing is here, he isn’t.

You’re led away by the Cloud Knights after you say your one-sided goodbyes. Time keeps on taking from you.

Jing Yuan comes to visit you. The spider lilies in the garden are blooming again, but now you sit under the maple tree alone, feeling empty. The Cloud Knight Lieutenant says your name, and you look up at him with tears in your eyes.

“…A momento,” Jing Yuan says softly, kneeling down in front of you and taking your hand in his. In it, he places a familiar hair slide and stick. “I’m so sorry, ___.”

Your lip quivers, and you throw your arms around your friend’s neck with a sob.

~*~

You are asked to take on an apprentice after Baiheng passes away, but you don’t take one on. Then, after Jingliu is struck with mara and Jing Yuan goes to confront her, you are offered the position of furnace master. You refuse.

You continue to live in and care for your adopted father’s estate, though you opt to live in the east wing rather than take the main house. Whenever Jing Yuan needs his weapons maintained or repaired, you are the one he goes to. He's an arbiter general now, and you’re proud of him. But now it’s more rare to see him, and now that there are guards stationed at his estate you don’t feel comfortable visiting him. Today, he’s visiting you, and you’ve set up tea in the courtyard under the maple tree.

“I heard you were offered the position of furnace master,” Jing Yuan mentions. You wince under his stare. “Care to explain your refusal?”

“I don’t want to deal with all the politics that you need to deal with now that you’re in a position of power,” you shrug. The man pouts. “Plus, I enjoy what I’m doing now. The forge here is all I need— I don’t need more.”

It’s true. The forge and workshop that Dad had created in the west wing has everything you need to do your work, alone, without strangers peering over your shoulder and commenting on what you should do. What you should make.

“I’ve also heard whispers that you’ve been refusing weapon commissions.”

With a sigh, you put down your teacup. “What is this, an interrogation?”

“Just curiosity. What have you been crafting instead?”

“Tools, armor, and other such things,” you lean your head against your hand. You’re tired of war. Of battle. You’re tired of losing the people you care about. “Your weapons are the only ones I’ll work with now.”

“Oh? I’m the exception then?” Jing Yuan gazes at you curiously, and you smile at him.

“Yes, you’re the exception,” you tell him genuinely. “See, I like making armor and tools more now. I don’t like fighting— I know that it’s necessary sometimes, but I want to help people create. I want to protect them in my own way… I know you’ll use your weapons to protect, so now the only weapons I create will be for you.”

Jing Yuan’s expression softens and he reaches out to place his hand on yours. “You want peace?”

“I do.”

“Then that is what I will aim for as well.”

~*~

Jing Yuan visits as you’re tending to the garden.

“Look, ___! A grimalkin! I’ve named it Mimi.”

You stare at the white fuzzball in your best friend’s arms, and can’t help but reach out to pet the little thing. “A grimalkin? It’s so cute! But aren’t you too busy to take care of a pet?”

Jing Yuan’s eyes hold a spark of mischief. “I’ve decided that Qingzu is going to be responsible for it while I’m busy with my duties.”

Your heart sinks for the Vidyadhara. “Yuan… it isn’t very nice of you to purchase a pet, then have your subordinate be the one to care for it.”

The man had the gall to look offended. “I will care for it. I already feel incredibly fond of Mimi, after all.”

Arms crossed, you give Jing Yuan an unimpressed look. “You know that isn’t what I meant, General.”

“Please, my dear friend, you know I prefer it when you call me by name.”

“Which I would be more than happy to use… were you not using your position to sic your responsibilities on others.”

“You wound me, ___.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh, then bury your hands in Mimi’s fur. “Your owner is awfully irresponsible, isn’t he Mimi? I would like to apologize on his behalf.”

The little grimalkin stares at you with big blue eyes. You feel your heart melt at the sight, and you lean forwards to press a kiss to the top of the pet’s head.

Jing Yuan watches you interact with Mimi and decides that the sight of you and the white-furred grimalkin together was worth every cent he paid to that merchant.

“If you’d like, please feel free to visit Mimi at the Seat of Divine Foresight,” Jing Yuan offers. Since he had taken up the position of Arbiter General, you hadn’t visited him at his home or workplace. If he wants to see you, which he always does, he has to visit your estate or chance to see you at the markets. “Or at my estate, should we not be there.”

You let out a small laugh. “And what reason would a lowly artisan have to even enter the Seat of Divine Foresight, General? I don’t think it would make sense for me to visit your workplace. Especially if I say it’s to play with your pet.”

“The guards at both my estate and the Seat of Divine Foresight know that if you ever come by, you’re to be allowed in regardless of reason, even if I am not there,” Jing Yuan tells you firmly. “And you aren’t a lowly artisan. You’re the only swordsmith who I will allow to handle my weapons as well as my dearest friend.”

You’re surprised by his words. Ever since Jing Yuan had become Arbiter General, you felt like you couldn’t visit him. To learn that the man had given his guards specific instructions to let you in was enough to make your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“Yuan, you really didn’t need to go to all that trouble!”

Jing Yuan grins down at you. “I’d love for you to visit me personally, but if Mimi is the one you come to see, I completely understand.

“Yuan!”

~*~

After Jing Yuan introduces you to Mimi, you try to visit the adorable creature every few weeks when you have time. This continues up until early November, when you leave to spend a couple of months on another Alliance ship to deliver some non-Luofu commissions. When you return in mid-January, it is clear that Mimi is not a grimalkin. Mimi is, in fact, a lion. You have never felt worse for Qingzu. The Vidyadhara looks frazzled when you drop by the Seat of Divine Foresight to play with the not-grimalkin upon your return.

As soon as Mimi sees you, they rise from where they were laying down and pad over to you, brushing their head against you. You look around in alarm, burying your hands in familiar white fur, and soon spot an exhausted looking Qingzu approaching.

“Ah, ___,” Qingzu greets you with a bow. “It has been awhile. Are you here to play with Wave-Treading Snow Lion?”

“…Jing Yuan shouldn’t be allowed to name anything. When and why did he change their name?”

“A couple of days ago,” Qingzu smiles at you but her eyes look empty. “He decided that Mimi didn’t fit as a name anymore.”

“They were raised with the name Mimi. We shouldn’t confuse the poor thing,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “And I’m assuming he’s been making you the primary caretaker of a lion you didn’t ask for?” A nod. “I’m so sorry, Qingzu. Thank you so much— Mimi’s still so sweet and behaved thanks to your care… I’ll talk to the general about this, though. Is he here?”

The exhausted Vidyadhara gives you a thankful look. “Yes, he’s in his office.”

“I’m going to kill him. Ignore the screams.”

“Of course, ___.”

You move through the Seat of Divine Foresight with a mission. Mimi makes a sound akin to disappointment, padding after you. Despite you being away the last few months, it still isn’t unusual for you to visit. You get along well with most of the staff, even. Plus, you’re the only one that seems to be able to talk sense into the general. Some jokingly say that you’re the only one who can tame the man, which always earns an eye roll from you. You don’t even knock before you enter Jing Yuan’s office, and the white-haired general blinks at you sleepily, a lazy smile gracing his lips. You could throttle him, you’re sure of it.

“Ah, ___! You’ve returned. How was your trip?” Jing Yuan asks, and after Mimi has entered the office, you shut the door, storm up to Jing Yuan and place your hands down on his desk, leaning over it to glare at the man. “Ooh… you don’t look happy. What have I done this time?”

“Stop siccing your pet on others!” you snap. Mimi senses your fury and opts to head towards a large pet bed in the corner of Jing Yuan’s office. “And for goodness sake, Mimi is a perfectly fine name. Don’t go changing it on them!”

“But Qingzu does such a good job of feeding and watering Wave-Treading–” Your glare darkens, “Apologies, Mimi. And Qingzu hasn’t complained–”

“You are taking advantage of your position as arbiter general, Jing Yuan. How is she going to complain to you, her superior, about how her superior is taking advantage of his position to make her take care of his pet?! If the next time I visit, Qingzu looks as tired as they do today, I’m going to personally drag you to her by your ear and make you apologize.”

Jing Yuan begins grinning cheekily, as though the idea amuses him. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad…”

“Oh, really?” you reply dryly, moving around the desk and reaching for Jing Yuan’s ear. The man dodges, easily catching your wrist in his hand and tugging you towards him. “I thought you said it didn’t sound so bad.”

“Mmm… But this isn’t the next time you’ve visited. You haven’t yet given me an opportunity to rectify my previous actions,” Jing Yuan pouts. You roll your eyes, moving to sit on the man’s desk. “Though, I don’t particularly mind the idea of your manhandling me.”

Your face heats up. “Don’t talk like that, Yuan!”

He seems to relish in your embarrassment, standing from his desk and leaning in close to you with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Talk like what, ___?”

“You know what I mean, General,” you grumble, pushing his shoulder. You’re not unused to being physically close to the man— you grew up together, after all. But this feels… different than usual.

“I missed you while you were away,” Jing Yuan tells you genuinely. “Mimi missed you as well. It was incredibly cute how they followed you in here.”

“Don’t change the subject. You were the one that accidentally adopted a pet lion so—“

He leans in again. “Did you not miss me?”

You feel your heart speed up. “Why are you being so… clingy, Jing Yuan? This isn’t the first time we’ve been apart.”

“Normally you don’t leave the Luofu,” Jing Yuan sighs, resting his head on your shoulder and loosely wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

Your ears feel hot and you have no idea why. This wasn’t the first time Jing Yuan hugged you like this. Why did it feel different now? His unruly hair tickles your cheek, and you hesitantly hug him back. “You’re not going to avoid this conversation forever, you know.”

Jing Yuan hums, nuzzling you, then releases you from his hold with a relaxed expression. “Should I get Qingzu to bring tea—“

“No! I’ll make it myself,” you huff, hopping off the desk and heading towards the door. “I’ll be back in a few moments, and then we’re having a long talk about how you should be treating the ones who work under you.”

“So long as I also get to hear about your trip, then that sounds fine to me.”

~*~

Some of Jing Yuan’s employees had invited you out. They said it was to thank you for helping them deal with the General.

Since your return to the Luofu, the dozing general had stopped giving his subordinates Mimi-related tasks and was handling them himself (although Qingzu was given a raise to continue handling Mimi’s food and water when Jing Yuan was tending to business away from the Seat of Divine Foresight). You personally assisted Jing Yuan with the budget and planning of Mimi’s meals— Mimi did not need fancy cuts of meat and also did not get nearly as much exercise as a wild lion. Therefore, Mimi’s diet was adjusted to suit its lifestyle. Which was, thankfully, much more affordable for the man.

Jing Yuan’s sudden change in behavior in regards to his pet coinciding with your timely return had essentially made you a living legend to all who worked at the Seat of Divine Foresight. So, not seeing a reason to refuse, you joined them for food and drinks at a nearby establishment.

A few hours have passed since you joined them… and you have had far too much to drink. It wasn’t entirely your fault, though. Everyone was offering you drinks and you had trouble telling them no. When you stand to use the restroom, things feel a bit wobbly, and the edges of your vision blur a bit.

Qingzu steadies you. She looks a bit worried. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you laugh. “Just had a bit too much to drink. Be right back.”

After your restroom visit, as you head back to your table where the others are, Jing Yuan enters the eatery. His hair is down, he’s dressed in gray pants and a dark red linen shirt, and the moment he sees you he smiles.

“Yuan!” You greet him cheerfully, taking his hands in yours and smiling up at him. “I didn’t realize you were coming!”

The general notes how you seem a bit off balance, how your eyes can’t seem to focus, and how unguarded your smile is. Ah. You’re drunk. “Qingzu mentioned it to me, so once I was finished with Mimi I came over.”

“Everyone’s been buying me drinks and stuff,” you tell him with a grin. “How much trouble did you put them through while I was away?”

Jing Yuan gazes down at you, feigning innocence. “Oh, I don’t think it was that much.”

“The amount of glasses I’ve been handed tells me otherwise.”

“They could be handing you drinks because of how cute you are,” Jing Yuan offers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this. Perhaps I should thank everyone.”

“You look smaller without your armor.”

Jing Yuan nearly trips over his own feet, and the look of genuine surprise on his face at your unexpected comment causes you to laugh. “I… didn’t expect that.”

“I mean, you’re not a small person by any means, but it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you outside of your armor. I like it, you look cute,” you begin to ramble. “You’re always cute, though. Except you always seem tired now, so I feel bad wanting to spend time with you since I know you should rest. And you need to get your bangs trimmed, because it’s hard to see both your eyes. They’re very pretty, you know.”

Your best friend begins to laugh, placing his hands on your shoulders and moving to stand in front of you. He looks down at you with an amused, happy grin on his face. “My dear, if you keep talking like that, people are going to get the wrong idea. Come now, let’s return to the others and let them know we’re leaving… I am suddenly feeling awfully tired, and would rather spend my off-time with you privately.”

“But you just arrived! Shouldn’t you have a drink with everyone too?”

Jing Yuan leans down, his voice low. “Oh, I don’t think it would be wise for me to be drinking tonight.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you agree with a hint of uncertainty. Jing Yuan keeps a hand on your back, guiding you towards the employees of the Seat of Divine Foresight, and thanks everyone for treating you and being so welcoming as you follow the general’s lead, being guided to his estate and led inside where Mimi greets you.

Yuan brings you water, and you rest on the floor, using the pet lion as a pillow while you sober up. Your best friend sets himself up next to you, also resting himself on Mimi lazily, and he gazes at you with a softness that makes you feel warm inside. You reach out with both hands and pet Jing Yuan’s hair with a cackle.

The man catches your wrists in one hand, chuckling, and you feel your chest tighten as you stare into his golden eyes and see his boyish grin.

Oh.

Oh no.

His free hand reaches down to ruffle your hair, and you take the opportunity to lower your head and hide your expression. Your face and ears feel hot, feeling mortified by how touchy you’ve been with him— has it just been you being friendly, or were you subconsciously gravitating towards him because you’re attracted to him? And you feel guilty. Because Jing Yuan has always been a good friend to you— your best friend. But maybe you haven’t been thinking of him as a friend— you’ve overstepped. You’ve hugely overstepped.

You ask for more water, your throat feeling even dryer, and Jing Yuan stands to go grab some for you. When he returns and you take the glass, the man gazes at you a bit worriedly and asks if you feel okay.

You don’t.

This realization has made you feel sick, and your head and your heart are starting to hurt because you have drunk way too much and you feel like you have taken advantage of your friendship with your best friend to be so close to him. And he’s sweet, he’s so sweet, rubbing your back as you place your head between your legs and try to sort out your thoughts and blame your nausea on all the alcohol and not your internal crisis.

He doesn’t want you heading home while you aren’t feeling well, even though you insist on it. So you end up sleeping in his guest room with Mimi.

You don’t get much sleep.

~*~

Jing Yuan can tell that you’re avoiding him.

After that night, you seem to only visit Mimi at the Seat of Divine Foresight when he has responsibilities elsewhere. If he sends you a text you respond much like normal, but attempts to call you go straight to voicemail. When he asks you to visit him, or if he can visit you, you’re always too busy, which might have been true… but you still seemed to have time to visit Mimi. Then, the last time he chanced to see you in the markets, you mysteriously disappeared, when before you would cheerfully greet him and chat for a bit.

The Arbiter General feels a tad neglected.

Not wanting this to go on any longer, he decides to drop by your estate unannounced. If you really are just busy, then he will apologize for his rudeness… but Jing Yuan feels that there is something wrong because this feels different.

At your estate, he sees you sitting in the garden under the maple tree with numerous envelopes surrounding you. As soon as you see him, your eyes widen and you stand. “General! What are you doing here?”

General.

Before, his title was only used to tease him. You are not currently teasing him. Still, he stays level headed and places a smile on his lips. “Am I not allowed to visit a friend?”

“I mean, you are… but I’m very busy, see?” You hold up one of the many envelopes surrounding you as Jing Yuan approaches. The General picks up one of the open documents, and you try to snatch it from his hands, horrified. “Don’t— those are personal!”

The General clenches his jaw as he reads over the letter. “These are courtship requests,” he states, voice flat.

You look down at your hands, feeling embarrassment coming off you in waves. “Yeah. I’m looking into them. They’ve been piling up since I returned— apparently I’ve caught the eye of many artisan families.”

The General crosses his arms. Jing Yuan feels… resentful. He isn’t surprised that you have received courtship requests— you’re hardworking, kind, and attractive. However, you have never shown an interest in dating before, happy with his friendship and building positive relationships with the staff at the Seat of Divine Foresight. And your business relationships were all going well from his understanding. Yet, suddenly you’ve taken an interest in more?

A possessive, primal part of him wants to tear up all the requests and make you only see him. After all, no one could care for, cherish, love you more than he has these past few centuries. But the other part of him is just hurt. “And these potential suitors… matter more than spending time with me?”

“No!” You shake your head frantically, reaching for his wrist, then faltering before you actually touch him.

This won’t do. Jing Yuan thinks, frowning. You had never held yourself back from touching him before. But now, you’re lowering your shaky hands down to your side, refusing to meet his gaze and staring down at the ground. “Dearest, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern lacing his words as he reaches out to hold your hand.

You step back, barely dodging him, holding your hands to your chest, and when your eyes lock onto his he can see it— fear. You’re scared and Jing Yuan has no idea why. The white-haired man’s golden eyes widen, and he feels his throat tighten uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, hiding your face in your hands. You seem so small like this. Jing Yuan hasn’t seen you this scared since… since Yingxing was mara struck. “Please don’t touch me, Jing Yuan. I can’t— I don’t think I can handle it right now, it's too much.”

“___…”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you tremble, now wiping your eyes as tears form. “Please don’t be mad. It’s all my fault, I’m sorry. I’m just looking into them to try and fix things, then I can be around you again.”

Jing Yuan steps forward, grabbing your wrists and forcing you to stop hiding from him. You weakly try to tug yourself free as you cry, and Jing Yuan lowers the two of you to the ground, kneeling in front of you. “Tell me what’s wrong, ___. Please. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

“I’ve been a terrible friend,” you sniffle, staring into Jing Yuan’s eyes. You look pained, and he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “I’ve been hugely overstepping and taking advantage of our friendship, and it’s unfair to you, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Jing Yuan releases your wrists and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close. “You have never taken advantage of our friendship,” he assures, but you shake your head as you melt into his hold, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Even now,” you cry. “I can’t stop thinking— My heart shouldn’t feel like it’s about to burst because you’re here. I’m so happy that you’re here, and I feel so guilty, because I still want more. It’s selfish. I should be happy with just this, I shouldn’t want to be closer to you— when did I start wanting to be closer?!”

His hold tightens on you, and his heart beats faster. You’ve realized it. You’ve finally realized it. Jing Yuan can’t help it, even as you’re crying and rambling into his chest, he grins. And, Aeons, he’s going to take his time with you. Everything has hit you all at once, but he’s been patient for centuries.

It’s time for him to be selfish.

“Trust me, ___,” he chuckles into your ear, pulling back and smiling down at you with half-lidded eyes barely concealing his joy. “You aren’t being selfish at all.”

#honkai jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #honkai star rail #blade is yingxing #hsr spoilers #hsr writing #self ship #self indulgent fanfic

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𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Yandere Dick Grayson x GN Reader

❥ Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: This is basically just Dick metronoming between overly-coddling, emotionally distant, cool older brother, and scary. And also everyone collectively shaving 30 years off of Alfred’s life.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: platonic sibling yandere content, older brother Dick Grayson, younger sibling reader, non-vigilante reader, adopted reader, slow burn yandere(?), the pacing is very a-day-in-the-life-esque, overbearing Dick Grayson, lowkey-infantilism, flu-shot/needles (barely mentioned), emotionally constipated Bruce, estranged father Bruce, Dick is a liar (his pants are indeed on fire), Dick just knows shit somehow, Dick’s lowkey a dick, scary Dick Grayson.

“It’ll just be a little poke, kid. You’ll be fine.”

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes at the man’s babying, you couldn’t find the courage to do so. It had nothing to do with the upcoming needle (well, thinking about it may or may not have made you the tiniest bit apprehensive, but that’s besides the point). Rather, for the past 30 minutes or so, you’ve been haunted by the words of the lady at the front desk.

“A walk-in for flu shots today?”

A walk-in.

Dick said this was an appointment.

The whole reason why you were missing school today was because of this appointment. Dick scheduled it under the pretense that it was a Saturday rather than a Friday, and that’s why you were running around doing errands with him all morning instead of making up that damn world history test. So why the hell did she call it a walk-in instead of an appointment?

Of course, while you so desperately wanted an answer, there’s no way in hell you were asking; not after whatever… that… was earlier.

The absence of your response must’ve been translated as nervousness. “Hey,” Dick softly began, “it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here, alright?”

Before you could even think of what to respond with, the doctor walked in with a trey of needed utensils. When it was set down on the counter, you spotted the needle and packet of alcohol wipes, and you couldn’t help but quirk a brow at the array of different bandaids. There was the typical neutral type, but there was also ones with fun patterns, like rocket ships or flowers. The one with a classic comic book style caught your eye as the doctor began to talk.

“Sorry for the small wait,” she said, ripping open the packet of alcohol wipes. “Lots of people coming in for the flu shot.”

“‘Tis the season,” Dick chimed next to you.

You fought the urge to scoff at the doctor’s polite chuckle. Don’t validate his ego…

After instructing you to roll up your sleeve, she gently swabbed your upper arm with the cold alcohol wipe, the strong stench hitting your nose like a truck. Once that was done, she turned towards the counter to prep the needed, and you let out a small sigh. Once this was over with, you could finally go home and hide in your room for the rest of the day. It would finally grant you refuge from a whole day spent running around with Dick (he could be a fun guy, sure, but the awkward air of the morning was still lingering in the back of your brain, and you wanted some time to yourself to actually figure out what the hell the deal was).

A warm hand suddenly engulfed yours, causing you to flinch from surprise.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Dick assured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You can always squeeze my hand if you need to.”

Your teeth aggressively bit down on the inside of your cheek. There were many things you wanted to say — “dude, I’m not a baby,” “the coddling is so weird,” “what the hell is up with you” — but you held them back the best you could, barely even registering the small prick in your arm until the needle was being pulled out.

“All done,” the doctor announced. You watched her put down the syringe on the tray as she picked up the different assortment of bandaids. “Hope you’re not too old for fun patterns. I’ve got tiger stripes, flowers, stars, butterflies…”

You obviously picked the comic book one, which you immediately regretted after hearing Dick’s small chortle (was he seriously making fun of you for choosing the objectively coolest looking bandaid?). As soon as the bandaid flaps were carefully rolled onto your upper arm, the doctor told you that the soreness should last for a couple of days, and before you knew it, you were hopping off of the chair and ready to go.

“Told ya you’d be fine,” Dick cooed, one of his hands coming up to pat your head. As if that wasn’t enough to rub you the wrong way, the doctor had the nerve to giggle at you two. Why was she endorsing this bastard’s behavior?!

And it gets worse. Because of course it does. After her little schoolgirl giggle, she let out a humored awww. Like she found your torment adorable in some sick way. You weren’t even worried about this to begin with, so what’s with all the infantilism, huh?!

God, I just wanna go home…

He was out for the night; you had to double, triple check just to make sure. Hell, you even looked up the Nightwing-sightings Twitter account to confirm that he was, in fact, out of the house (fortunately, a video of him grappling to Bludhäven’s Orthodox Cathedral was posted 7 minutes ago, which meant he was on the other side of the city). When you were 100% absolutely certain that — beyond a shadow of a doubt — he wasn’t hiding somewhere in the apartment for whatever reason, you took a few deep breaths and conjured up the bravery to hit the “call” button on your phone.

… Beeeeeeeeep…

“Master (Y/N), is everything alright?”

A small sigh of relief left your lips. Alfred’s voice sounded fully awake, and you could even hear the clinking of dishes in the background of the call. Not even questioning why the butler was doing dishes at midnight, you tried to make your voice sound casual. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to check up on the manor.”

“It’s a rather rare night, here. For once, Master Bruce is asleep upstairs at this hour.” His tone then shifted to something more pointed. “Much like you should be.”

“And you,” you shot back. “Why are you awake if Bruce isn’t?”

“I’ve found myself working on The Batman’s schedule,” the old man explained, speaking over the squeak of a cabinet. “I usually don’t sleep for another couple of hours, when Master Bruce returns from his nightly activities.”

Well, that explains why breakfast is closer to lunch in Wayne Manor. Before he could return the question, you decided to cut to the chase. “Do you think it’d be okay if I tried to call him sometime? Or sent him a text?”

“I believe a call would be an excellent idea.” You could’ve sworn you heard a chortle on the other end. “A text would give him the leeway to procrastinate, and possibly never answer. It’s better to catch him off-guard.”

Something about having to surprise-attack your own adoptive father with a conversation made your chest feel heavy. While you figured out very early on he didn’t like socializing (must suck to be a playboy billionaire CEO and an introvert at the same time), did he really want to avoid talking to you that badly? Ouch…

“Well,” you awkwardly shifted on your bed, “when’s the best time to call him, then?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that,” replied Alfred. “But I’ll be sure to let you know when the opportunity arises. It’s about time the two of you actually talked, after all. Even if it’s just a simple hello.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. If you were reading in between the lines correctly, Alfred was suggesting that a call with Bruce at this rate would be a simple, “hi, how are you, how’s it going,” exchange. Which, okay, makes sense, considering your adoptive father may as well be a stranger at this point (you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you had to reintroduce yourself to him), but that meant it was going to take a while before you could even consider asking him if you could move back into the manor.

Which meant you were stuck in Blüdhaven for an indefinite amount of time.

Okay, it’s not like living with Dick is the worst thing ever. He’s starting to get weird, sure, but all of your basic needs are met, and you’ve got the added benefit of having Nightwing as your older brother, probably making you the safest kid in Blüdhaven right now. If anything, you were being totally ridiculous right now; trying to get in touch with your reclusive adoptive father — who obviously wants nothing to do with you at the moment — just because you didn’t want to talk to Dick about his weird behaviors.

(In other words, you’re opting to avoid the problem altogether instead of addressing it. Why does that sound eerily familiar…)

But nevertheless, even before Dick started to get weird, you’ve been extremely anxious about your relationship with Bruce (or lack thereof). It’d be nice to put your best foot forward and try to make up for being a burden to him.

“I’ll take what I can get,” you sadly admitted. “I just hope I don’t make him upset.”

“I can assure you, Master Bruce would be more than thrilled that you’re reaching out to him.” Ah. So now Alfred’s reverted to lying to you. “Now, it’s about time you get some sleep, don’t you think? Master Dick would be most displeased that you’re taking up The Batman schedule yourself.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach churned at the mention of Dick. “I guess so… goodnight, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master (Y/N). I hope your next call is at a more reasonable hour for the sake of your sleep cycle.”

And, with that, the call ended.

Just in time to hear the window in the living room open.

“The Flash.”

“Fortnite.”

“Superman.”

“Wordscapes.”

“Green Lantern.”

“Which one?”

“Uh… the one with the brown swoopy hair.”

“Halo.”

“Wonder Woman.”

“Minecraft.”

The sputter you let out almost made you lose your focus. “Wonder Woman plays Minecraft?!”

“Not often,” Dick elaborated, “she only started playing because she saw Donna has it.”

You spared him a glance, though quickly returned your attention back to the computer screen on your lap. “Who’s Donna?”

“Well, you might’ve known her as Wondergirl…” the way that Dick referred to her in the past tense made your heart drop, “but she’s been bouncing between Darkstar and Troia recently. Lots of people still call her Wondergirl.”

Oh, thank god. She’s not dead. “Didn’t take Wondergirl for a Minecraft player.”

“She wanted to play with the rest of the Titans,” was Dick’s simple reply. “We’re hoping she doesn’t check in with the server, though, cuz Wally accidentally blew up part of her house and I don’t think any of us have fixed it yet.”

“And Wally’s Kid Flash,” you presumed, barely registering Dick’s hum of approval after you watched your character get knocked off the track. “Should’ve known the Titans are a bunch of gamers.”

Dick chuckled. “I don’t know about all that. We don’t get to play with each other often, with how busy our lives are, but it’s a nice way to goof around during the holidays.”

“What do you guys play?” You had to fight the urge to let out a curse upon seeing you got 1st place stolen from you. Total bullshit. “Besides Minecraft and, y’know, Garfield Kart.”

“Okay, to set the record straight, I’ve only played Garfield Kart once.”

“Mhm.”

“And Wally thought it would be funny.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I figured it was fine to only spend 5 dollars on a game I knew I’d play once.”

“Why’s it still in your library, then?”

“Because I still spent money on it,” Dick retorted, his arms gesturing wildly in the air. “Might as well keep it just in case Wally wants us to play it again!”

“You’re getting oddly defensive about this.”

“Cuz it’s the truth!”

“Alright, then. Let’s see.” You dragged the mouse down to his dock and clicked on Steam, pulling up his library tab. “You have a total of 5 hours in Garfield Kart.”

“All from one night,” Dick tried to justify.

“You guys were playing Garfield Kart for 5 hours straight?”

“Roy was having connection issues!!”

“There’s no— I’m calling bullshit!!”

“I’m not making this up, I swear it’s the truth!!”

“Nah, man,” you were fighting through your giggling fits as best as you could. “I don’t believe it. 5 hours in Garfield Kart over connection issues??”

“I have witnesses!!” Dick started to fish into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone. “I’m calling Wally right now. He’s gonna tell you the exact same shit, and you gonna formally apologize to me with a third party present to…”

Something on his phone screen made him trail off.

You at first thought it was because he couldn’t multitask between pulling up Wally’s contact information and talking. But his fingers weren’t doing anything, instead stagnantly clutching his phone. He looked to be reading something, like a notification on his lock screen. You watched in real time as his humored smile (a genuine smile, not a Richard Grayson smile), dropped into a deep frown. The switch up was enough to kill your own smile, brows knitting together as you asked, “what is it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he muttered a curse under his breath and abruptly stood from his seat on the couch to make a b-line for his room. The door slamming shut caused your shoulders to jerk upwards, the sound echoing through your brain as you quickly put the pieces together; Nightwing was needed.

Low muttering came from his room — probably a phone call, though you weren’t a hundred percent certain on that — making you wonder just what the hell was going on. Was this a Gotham emergency? Titans emergency? Hell, even a Justice League emergency (if that’s the case, it’s a bit weird to think that Leaguers just text each other when they need back-up, but then again, you’re not entire sure what else they would do… there’s probably a whole system to it that you wouldn’t understand).

Dick’s bedroom door swinging up snapped you out of your thoughts, your pseudo brother now dressed in his Nightwing costume with his phone up to his ear. “I’ll call you back over comms. Just give me a minute, okay?” He then hung up, tossing his phone onto the couch and making his way to the window. “Duty calls, kid.” The pane of glass automatically slid open at his touch. “Leftovers are in the fridge if I come back late.” Before you could even ask what was going on, he jabbed a finger at you in an accusatory manner. “Stay put. You hear me?”

You thickly swallowed. “Try not to cause any explosions this time.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his features, and, within a blink of an eye, he was gone.

The apartment was eerily quiet now. Just a few minutes prior, you were laughing and carrying on about what games each Leaguer played, and now this happened. God, the vigilante lifestyle is one hell of a rollercoaster.

You’ve long forgotten about Garfield Kart, setting the laptop right next to where Dick’s phone landed on the couch. Instead, you tried to focus on taking deep breaths to keep your anxiety at bay. Dick was going to be fine. He’s always come home before, this time should be no different, right?

“I bet this is what Alfred thinks about Bruce,” you humorously thought out loud.

It’s probably what he thought about Jason, too.

… Not helping.

Taking another deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself and sank further into the couch. He’s going to be fine. If he’s coming in as backup, then that means he won’t be alone. Other heroes will have his back and make sure nothing bad happens.

“He’ll be fine,” you had to reassure yourself.

Everything’s fine.

Thunkthunk…

…

Thunkthunkthunkthunk…

…

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunk…

Okay, either a giant bug was trying to get into your room in the middle of the night, or someone was at your window.

Your first thought was to ignore it. What if it was a murderer or a robber? There’s no way in hell you’re about to find out when Dick still hasn’t returned. That’s when you remembered, oh yeah, Dick still hasn’t returned, and that very well could’ve been him. Why was he trying to get into your room instead of the easy-access, less conspicuous window in the living room? No idea. But you decided to risk it anyway, rolling out of bed to face the window.

Sure enough, sticking outside of the building like an overgrown spider was Blüdhaven’s very own Nightwing, his blue stripes shimmering under the full moon. You could slightly make out the sheepish expression on his face as he asked, “could you let me in?”

If your brain wasn’t still foggy with sleep, you probably would’ve been an asshole and toyed with him for a bit, but it was too late for that. Flipping the window’s switch, the locking mechanism came undone with a resonate click, and you pathetically struggled to slide the glass upwards (in your defense, Bat-certified security windows are kinda heavy). Sparing you from further embarrassment, Dick helped out on his end. You found it unfair that he was able to make it look easy with one hand.

“You’re home,” you tiredly noted, allowing relief to flood your senses. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s alright.” As soon as he took a couple steps forward, you realized that everything was not alright. He seemed to be favoring his left leg over his right, limping towards your bed and sitting himself down on it as gracefully as he could. “Just some business in Gotham, is all.”

Your brows furrowed at how dismissive he was. “What happened to your leg?”

He didn’t answer for a few moments, instead working on tearing his domino mask off (there was an inky black substance left around his eyes, and you wondered if it was some sort of adhesive for his mask or something like that). “Uh… nothing too bad. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Nothing too bad,” you flatly echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Minor scratch,” he half-heartedly replied.

“… Right.” You didn’t believe him, but you couldn’t see any sort of obvious dents or deformities to his leg, so at least there was that. “So, is the living room window broken, or…?”

“Jammed,” was his curt answer.

For whatever reason, his total vagueness was starting to get on your nerves. Not only is he keeping you in the dark about what happened in Gotham, but he’s obviously lying about his leg and now reverting to giving you one-word answers. You also didn’t like how nonchalant he was being, like this has been scripted and rehearsed several times (god, he must’ve been a menace for Bruce and Alfred back in the day).

“Probably should get that fixed, then,” you said through a yawn.

“Yup.” He even popped the p. What a jackass. “Was everything fine while I was away?”

Christ. Even when asking a how were things question he sounds so dismissive. Maybe it was just because he was so tired after a long day. You should probably stop assuming he does everything out of pure condescending intent and general assholery. “Yeah, every—”

The sound of your phone ringing cut your answer short. Before you could make a move, Dick leaned across your bed to inspect your device picking it up and reading the caller ID. “It’s Alfred,” he chirped. Now, you would think he would hand the phone over to you (you know, cuz you’re the actual owner of the device), but you were grimly reminded that Dick was still the biggest bastard you know when he answered the call himself, bringing it up to his ear and greeting Alfred with a simple, “yo.”

“Dick, what the fuck are you doing,” you whispered, hoping that Alfred couldn’t hear you curse from the other end. You reached for your device, but he easily caught your hand with his free one.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said over the line. He continued to talk with that stupid nonchalant tone, and from how Alfred’s voice bellowed out of your phone, you could tell the butler wasn’t having it. Attempted to obtain the device again, you swiped at it with your freehand, only for Dick to catch you off guard by pulling you towards his chest. You barely had time to start squirming before he locked you in place under his arm. “I’m fine, Alfred,” he said after he managed to finagle you onto his uninjured leg. “Honest. I am.”

Now that you were at a closer proximity, you could vaguely make out what Alfred was saying. “You had me scared to death, boy!! The least you could’ve done was answer your communicator, you know!!”

“Didn’t hear you trying to contact me,” he sheepishly replied, an almost chuckle spilling from his lips. “My comm must be jammed after the impact. Sorry, Alfred.”

First the window’s jammed, now his comm’s jammed. Why is everything jammed tonight?

… Also, what’s this about an impact?

“You’ve outgrown the manor and yet you’re still fixed on giving us heart attacks,” Alfred exasperatedly sighed. “Master Bruce was worried you were—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick reassured. “I’m okay, alright?”

You took this as an opportunity to speak up. “No, he’s not!! He did someth—gmgfhfmhm!!”

Dick partially stopped constricting your body to slam your face into his chest, muffling the rest of your sentence.

“… Master Dick, are you hurt?”

“No, Alfred.” A bit of venom laced Dick’s words, but he was quick to recover. “I’m fine. (Y/N)’s just being a little brat again.”

From the small beat of silence, you 100% knew Alfred was not buying Dick’s bullshit. But there wasn’t much the old man could do to call him out for it over the phone. “Well, then, how is Master (Y/N)? You seemed very worried over how they were—”

Dick didn’t even let Alfred finish. “They’re fine, but up way past their bedtime.”

… Wait a minute.

“Master (Y/N),” Alfred chided, this time directly talking to you. “What did I tell you about getting your proper rest?”

This. Mother. Fucker.

You tried to swivel your head out of his chest to A.) breathe again, and B.) give him a deadly glare. Why the fuck was he throwing you under the bus when he was the one that woke you up in the first place?! God, as soon as he lets you loose, you were gonna let him have it.

“It’sh no’muy fauh,” you defended, your words distorted from your cheek being smushed against Dick’s body. Unfortunately, Alfred still allowed his disapproval to shine through with yet another sigh, mumbling something about how everyone in this family is a hazard.

“Don’t worry, Alfred.” Dick shifted you on his lap so you were no longer being manhandled like a teddy bear. “I’ll get them to bed right now. Tell Bruce I’m fine, alright?”

“You should tell him yourself, boy!! He’s been trying to call you non—”

Dick then did the unthinkable; hang up on Alfred.

Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. You do not hang up on Alfred while he’s mid-chastising. Even if he’s a massive douche, Dick should know better than this, especially considering he was practically raised by the man.

So, as soon as he unceremoniously tossed your phone back onto your bedside table, you got vengeance on behalf of the butler.

CHOMP.

“OW!!” Dick unraveled his arm from your form, trying to rip his hand out of your mouth. “You little brat!! What the hell?!”

“Urr fveeinn uh pphrickhh!!”

Be some miracle, he managed to pry your teeth off of him, wiping the saliva off of his glove. “Care to repeat that, you vile creature?”

Spitting the taste of latex out of your mouth, you tried again. “You’re being a prick!! Why are you lying to everyone, huh?! I was worried, Alfred’s worried, Bruce is worried, and here you are, waving everyone off like it’s nothing?! What the hell even happened out there, huh?!”

Dick’s expression hardened. “(Y/N), it’s way too late for this.”

“No!! Don’t even do that!!” You shoved jabbed a finger into his chest. “You can’t come in here waking me up at… whatever the fuck hour it is right now and brush everything to the side!! You’re obviously hurt, dipped out on everyone over in Gotham without a word, have Alfred and apparently Bruce try to get in touch with you cuz they didn’t know what the fuck happened to you, and you expect me to not want any answers?! What’s your problem?!”

“My problem is that I have a high schooler yelling in my face like a 3rd grader,” Dick bitterly snapped. “People are trying to sleep right now, (Y/N)! What if you wake the one of the neighbors and they file a noise complaint?!”

“Wha— don’t try to change the—”

He grabbed your forearms tightly, catching you off guard and killing your sentence then and there. His tone got dangerously low as he pulled you closer to him. “I’m serious, (Y/N). Cut it out. Now’s not the time for this. Can’t you just listen to me for once?!”

… This was unfair. He’s trying to pull some intimidating authority bullshit on you, all to avoid actually answering you. It was so painfully obvious that’s what he was doing.

And yet, despite knowing that…

That look was back in his eyes.

It was the same coldness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, vocal cords constricting as though your very subconscious was warning your brain to shut the fuck up as a self-preservation tactic. A ghost hand was creeping up your spine, sending electric signals of unease through your shoulders and into your skin.

Something was wrong again.

Something was so wrong again.

Even if you know this was all just some cheap intimidation tactic, it sure as hell was working.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your head away so you didn’t have to continue eye contact with him. “But this isn’t over, okay?”

Dick didn’t have anything to say to that. Rather, he picked you up from his lap gently, setting you back down on your bed. “Get some sleep. Okay, kiddo? It’s been a long night.”

You merely hummed, watching him carefully. His calculating gaze — which still held that weird edge — scanned over your form before a certified Richard Grayson smile tugged at the corner of his lips. After a few seconds of just staring at you, he turned towards the door and began to limp out the room.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“… ‘Night, Dick.”

Your door squeaked open, then softly clicked shut.

After he was gone, it dawned upon you that you were holding in your breath. Allowing yourself the gift of oxygen, you flopped back down on your bed, mulling over the timeline of the day. Hours prior, Dick left for a Gotham emergency, must’ve done something to fuck up his leg (you recall him saying something about an impact to Alfred), left for Blüdhaven without telling anyone, ignored comms because they were jammed, woke you up because the Bat Door (the living room window) was also jammed, and then the phone call with Alfred.

And also him being weird again (the scary weird this time, not the coddling weird), but you didn’t really wanna think about that right now.

In fact, if you were being honest, you realized you were too tired to think about everything else, as well. It really has been a long day, and you weren’t even the one dealing with Gotham bullshit (no, your job was to deal with Bat bullshit… batshit). All this dismissive lying shit really tuckers a kid out.

So, as your eyelids began to flutter shut, you could only mutter one last thing;

“… What the fuck is happening.”

#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON X READER

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em-dash-press · 2 years

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Tons of Reasons Why Writer's Block Happens

Lately I've seen a few posts on social media platforms being shared that are (supposedly) quotes from well-known authors. The quotes generally stick to the theme of: writer's block isn't real! No worries! It's just in your head!

Like...

That is so unhelpful for me and if I had seen those people (again, supposedly) saying that when I was much younger and newer to writing, I would have thought something was wrong with me.

So here are a few reasons why writer's block IS real for many people and what you can do about it. (Warning—this is a long text post but I tried putting all suggested solutions in bullet points and have lots of resource hyperlinks!)

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Tired

Sleep affects the entire body. There’s no question that when I don’t get enough of it, my brain isn’t working as well as it normally does.

Let’s start this section with what everyone should acknowledge—mental health conditions absolutely prevent people from being able to use tips like Just turn the lights off earlier! or Think calming thoughts while taking deep breaths!

If those work for you, great. Fantastic! But if they don’t, your doctor is the best person to get advice from. They can work through symptoms with you to rule out conditions like depression and insomnia so you get the best help possible.

Besides your mental health, there are a few other ways you might not be able to fall asleep or stay asleep:

You enjoy drinking afternoon coffee (most have a half life of 3-5 hours, so the caffeine doesn’t actually leave your system for a long time!)

You have a diet soda with your lunch or dinner (most diet sodas have the same amount of caffeine as a half cup to a whole cup of coffee)

You eat a midnight snack or a dessert after dinner (the extra digestion works against your body’s circadian rhythm and prevents a normal sleep cycle)

Potential Solutions

Swap your afternoon coffee/sodas for caffeine free sodas instead

Eat high-protein snacks shortly after or during dinner (protein keeps you full longer so you can eat them earlier in the evening)

Follow some tips from sleep experts with the Sleep Foundation

You Can’t Write Because: Your Routine Is Changing/Has Changed

When my life has gone through routine changes, my creativity has always slowed (if not stopped altogether). Switching from high school to college, from college to graduate life, and even from apartment to apartment is a big deal. My writing slows when I change jobs, see my friends less/more often, and even when the holidays come and go.

If you think this might be a repeat experience in your life, my best advice is to give yourself grace. Your brain is only trying to conserve energy and process everything that’s going on.

Potential Solutions

Resting and gently reattempting to write without expectations of what will come out of that writing session is sometimes the best thing to do until life settles back down.

If you can’t come to peace with changes, I’d suggest talking with someone. You can access help for free at:

7 Cups of Tea (chat with volunteer listeners and professional counselors)

Get in-person or virtual therapy through Open Path ($30-60/session with a one-time membership fee; aims to close the financial gap that keeps people from accessing mental health professionals).

Check out other budget-friendly therapy options recommended by the medical community.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Grappling With Indecisions

Indecision is a creativity killer for sure. I’ll address a few ways I’ve experienced it and how I know my friends have struggled with it:

You only have a few story ideas and don’t want to commit to any of them in case some idea comes along that’s more interesting (I hate leaving unfinished drafts too!)

You wonder how you should format your story and never start because you can’t decide (it might be the point of view, past/present tense, etc.)

You can’t nail down how a character looks, what sets them apart, what drives them.

You can’t decide on a theme because there’s so much you want to write about.

You don’t know how long the story should be, so it never starts.

Potential Solutions

Try new things to come to peace with unfinished drafts (I have a folder on my computer specifically labeled “Unfinished Stories” because I’m more comfortable when they have a home).

Practice writing one page within your story’s world from a different point of view or tense. See what feels most natural or authentic to you.

Do character research by looking at pictures of people on stock photo websites or Pinterest.

Story length is often found after someone just starts writing. You’ll naturally find a rhythm and come to a conclusion at the right length for your first draft. Revise/add if needed!

My most important tip might be—

Give your gut 24 hours (go with your gut on whatever you’re trying to decide, then set your work down. Come back in 24 hours to see if you feel as strongly about your creative decision).

You Can’t Write Because: You’ve Got Too Many Ideas

When there are too many creative ideas in your brain, it leads to anxiety and potential writer’s block. I know I’ve had the fear that I’ll commit to the “wrong” story and another one will come to life in my mind, but then be gone by the time I’m ready to write it.

Potential Solutions

Write all of your ideas down in a list (bold, highlight, or star whichever ones seem super promising at the time so they stand out when you’re ready for a new project)

Try stream of consciousness journaling for 30 seconds (set a timer! Whatever you write will reveal with emotions/thoughts/issues are on your mind and may create stronger stories with similar themes)

Write 500 words of a story idea (or another number you’re comfortable with; if you don’t like what you write, you know you can move onto the next idea).

Flip a coin (assign one idea heads and the other tails—then flip a coin or use a coin flip generator).

Number your ideas and use a random number generator to pick one for you.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Not Eating a Brain-Supporting Diet

I’m not here to tell anyone how to structure their diet. Everyone’s body is different and what you eat will change throughout your life. Your doctor and/or a licensed nutritionist are the best people for that job.

However, I can give you a few pointers that I definitely didn’t learn until way later than I would have liked:

Iron: if you don’t eat enough iron, you can feel super sleepy or stuck in brain fog. Iron comes from meat, but it also comes from these foods like spinach, watermelon, beans, whole wheat bread, and many more!

Vitamin D: vitamin D enhances brain function, especially for people with major depressive disorder. Drink that delicious Sunny D juice from your childhood or get it from foods like salmon, tuna fish, dairy fortified with vitamin D, and egg yolks.

Omega-3s: omega-3s are also known as fatty acids, which improve communication between brain cells by fortifying their membrane health. Fish is an excellent source of fatty acids, but you can also enjoy more omega-3s from foods like chia seeds, kidney beans, walnuts, and fortified foods.

You Can’t Write Because: Your Responsibilities Are Too Important Right Now

As you get older, you’ll have varying responsibilities that sometimes you have to take care of on your own. Maybe you’re taking on new roles at your job or you’ve just become a parent. You might move into a new home and have a long list of projects to finish before you settle in.

Sometimes responsibilities are acts of self-care during challenging times. Those are all valid. It’s okay to step back and take a break if your situation is going to drain your energy until your routine becomes normal or you get used to the responsibilities. You’re a writer even when you’re not actively writing. Nothing can take that skill and passion away from you!

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Uninterested In Writing

It’s totally normal to sometimes feel like you’re completely uninterested in writing. That feeling might last for months or even years. I went through a good 5-6 year period where I didn’t think I’d ever write again just because I didn’t care to.

That may indicate that you’re in a period of self-growth. You might be discovering new parts of yourself that result in new hobbies you’d rather spend your time doing. That’s okay too!

Possible Solutions

If that’s not the case for you, ask yourself—are you still reading? My writing always grinds to a halt when I’m not reading a good book. Ask a friend what was the last book they couldn’t put down. Find out which books are currently taking the internet by storm and find them at your local library.

You can even research “Books like ___” and insert the title of a book that’s incredibly special to you. I promise there are going to be articles looping it in with other titles that you might enjoy more than branching out into a totally new genre.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Bored of Your Story

Life can get boring. People are sometimes boring. Stories get boring too.

It’s okay to step back from an idea if you groan at the thought of spending time in that world or with that character. You can always come back to see if the feeling has passed.

Possible Solutions

If your story is still dull when you come back to it, what can you add or change about it? You might need a plot twist to get things going in a new direction or another character to shake up existing character dynamics.

When all else fails and you still don’t care to continue writing what you’ve got, go ahead and scrap it. Consider what you’ve learned from the experience and move onto your next creative adventure.

You Can’t Write Because: Your Story Is Stuck

Maybe you’re writing a story and it reaches a point in the plot where you don’t know how to move your characters forward. They may have gotten themselves into a sticky situation you can’t think a way out of or the plot device that was working isn’t relevant anymore. Getting stuck is a form of writer’s block, but it’s not permanent.

Potential Solutions

Give your protagonist a different goal at the start of the story or a new goal after accomplishing their last one.

Add a new character (they’ll naturally make different choices than your protagonist and challenge them in various ways that are relevant to your themes).

Pull the rug out from under your protagonist (maybe they think they’re an incredible parent, but overhear their child complaining about them to a friend during a sleepover while walking past the living room).

Other Resources

12 Techniques for Getting Un-Stuck

17 Ideas to Continue Writing Your Novel When You Get Stuck

6 Methods to Unstick Your Story

You Can’t Write Because: Your Characters Aren’t Real Enough to You

Sometimes characters don’t feel real enough and it makes writing about them boring. Everyone encounters this eventually! Think about if your writer’s block is happening because you don’t enjoy spending time with your characters.

If that’s the problem, it’s time to make them more real. There are a few ways to do that! (If you try these solutions or others like them and your characters are still uninspiring, it might be time to walk away for a while/permanently.)

Potential Solutions

Give them something inspired by a real life person (add a personality trait that you love about your best friend, hate about a public figure, want in yourself, etc.).

Add a few flaws (perfect characters don’t feel real because no one is perfect)

Give them a face (this goes back to character research—save a stock photo that looks like your character or draw them. Post the picture on your wall where you write or in your phone for continual inspiration.)

Rework your plot (maybe you’re not starting them at the best possible point in their journey—start with an action scene, shift events around, or add a new twist that challenges their growth in some way.)

Complicate their relationships (maybe they have a fight with their best friend, clash with their teacher, form different opinions than someone they admire and learn from that experience, etc.)

Other Resources

9 Signs Your Main Character is Boring

5 Ways to Make Your Characters More Realistic

4 Bland Character Problems and How to Fix Them

Easy And Effective Ways To Make Your Characters More Memorable

You Can’t Write Because: You’ve Set High Expectations for Yourself

Your creativity will stop feeling as natural if your expectations of yourself or your writing are too high.

When it’s time to write, where do your thoughts go? You may need healthier expectations if your thoughts center around:

Getting every word or scene perfect

Knowing exactly where the plot goes in every chapter

Worrying that your story won’t be receptive to future readers

Wondering if you’re the right person to talk about a certain theme

Making your characters or story the first of its kind

It’s good to challenge yourself, but not with unreachable expectations. Give yourself room to try things, to possibly fail, to learn from your mistakes.

Every chance you have to write is another opportunity to hone your skills by learning from the experience.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Burnt Out

Burnout happens all the time, creatively or otherwise. Creative minds can push themselves too hard, just like you can throw too much of your energy into work or school.

See if you’re experiencing any of these common symptoms of burnout:

Constant exhaustion, even after a “good” night’s rest

Headaches

Changes in appetite

Frequent illnesses

No motivation

A general negative outlook on life

Feeling trapped

Loud thoughts of self-doubt or failure

Not feeling satisfied with things that used to bring you joy

Feeling alone

Starting unhealthy coping mechanisms

Isolating yourself from people, even your loved ones

Potential Solutions

Talking with a therapist is a great way to handle burnout. Here are the resources for budget-friendly therapy again:

7 Cups of Tea (chat with volunteer listeners and professional counselors)

Get in-person or virtual therapy through Open Path ($30-60/session with a one-time membership fee; aims to close the financial gap that keeps people from accessing mental health professionals).

Check out other budget-friendly therapy options recommended by the medical community.

I have absolutely been the person who can’t afford therapy. I get it. You can also get some mental health help with these resources:

Self care apps—I use the (free) Finch app every day to redirect negative thought patterns!

Burnout recovery strategies recommended by health care professionals

Burnout resources recommended by the American Psychiatric Association (APA)

You Can’t Write Because: Your Writing Routine Isn’t Working Anymore

I used to write short stories literally every day while I was in grade school. Being stuck in classes for 8 hours a day was great for my creative writing because the sounds of the teacher talking, whiteboard markers writing, and students asking questions became background noise that tuned me into my stories. (I highly recommend paying attention to harder classes though 😂)

When I had fewer daily classes in college, my writing basically stopped. After I graduated, the environment that helped me write most easily completely disappeared.

It took a long time for me to learn why I had writer’s block—I wasn’t experimenting with my writing environment.

Potential Solutions

Try changing when you write to see if it’s a time issue. Get up earlier in the morning, write after eating lunch, or sit down after you’ve completed your responsibilities for the day.

Switch your scenery. You might write better at a coffee shop, the library, a park bench, your living room, your bed, or even your bathtub.

Change what you’re hearing. Try writing in complete silence. Use noise-blocking or canceling headphones and listen to lyricless music. You can also try background noises that often help people focus, like:

Background Noise—Coffee Shop

Background Noise—Tavern Fireplace

Background Noise—Rain Shower

Background Noise—Cozy Fireplace and Rain Shower

Background Noise—Forest Sounds

Background Noise—Blizzard Sounds

Background Noise—Interior Plane Cabin White Noise (The pleasant hum of a plane cabin is what I often write to—weird as it admittedly is!)

Background Noise—Christmas Music From Another Room

Background Noise—Lo-Fi

Ambient noise apps

Background noise apps

You Can’t Write Because: You Don’t Feel Motivated

Your story may not feel as captivating as you thought because you’re not as motivated with this one. Does it have a centralized theme? You can always search for your theme or pick one while figuring out what your story is supposed to convey to readers.

Some popular themes are:

Coming of age (discovering something about yourself/the world/both)

Survival

Corruption

Power

Courage

Love

Heroism

Death

Prejudice

You may find your motivation by writing about something very personal to you or something you want to tell other people. Write to the person in your life who needs to see something from your perspective or needs to learn from another person’s perspective.

Write about the thing you can’t stop talking about. Write about what you’re going through or want to figure out. Even if your story goes from a novel to a short story to flash fiction (anywhere from 4 words to 1,000 words), you’ll likely find it easier to write.

Other Resources

10 Most Popular Literary Theme Examples

Story Themes List: 100+ Ideas to Explore in Your Novel

100 Story Ideas Categorized by Theme

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Doubting Yourself

Self-doubt can pull the emergency brake on your brain. You may not think you’re good enough to write a story the moment you think of it. Self-doubt can come into play after you start writing or just before you finish a manuscript.

No matter when it hits you, it can cause another form of writer’s block. You’re the only person who can figure out where that doubt stems from and address the root of the problem, but everyone can practice daily positive affirmations to encourage themselves. With daily practice, you’ll chip away at your writer’s block.

While talking to a mirror or writing in a journal, tell yourself things like:

Writing is my hobby because it’s part of me.

I’m always a writer, no matter how often I actually write.

My voice and ideas deserve to exist.

Every word I write makes me better at writing.

No matter what comes out of my brain, stories are always my artwork.

Other Resources

Positive Affirmations for Writers

60 Affirmations for Writers, Authors, and Creatives

77 Positive Affirmations for Discouraged Writers

336 Affirmations For Writers Who Needs Support

60 Affirmations for Authors, Writers, and Poets

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Literally Out of Ideas

Ideas come and go. Sometimes your brain just can’t think of anything. There’s nothing wrong with your creative spirit—you may just have other things going on (like one or more of the above challenges).

When you really want to write something but can’t come up with anything off the top of your head, use a few generators to get things started.

Potential Solutions

Prompt Generators

Writing Prompt Generator by Genre

Prompt Generator

Random Prompt Generator

Story Generators

Plot Generator (Twists, First Lines, and More)

1 Million Plot Combinations

1000s of Plot Ideas Generator

Character Generators

Character Generator

List of Character Generators (Zombies, Fairies, Ghosts, Murder Mystery Victims, etc.)

Character Profile Generator

Plot Twist Generators

Plot Twist Idea Generator

Randomized Plot Twist Generator

Either/Or Plot Twist Generator

—

I hope this helps someone feel more at peace with their writer’s block, even if you can’t think your way through it yet. Sit with the uncomfortable feeling and it will gradually lose its power over your creativity.

You’ll start writing again sooner than you think. 💛

#writers block #writing resources #writeblr #writing tips #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing advice #writing help #plot creation #character creation #writing prompts #writing generators

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 4 days

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More headcanons about Anakin and Ahsoka being menaces to the general public

I feel like both Anakin and Ahsoka react to being sick in similar ways and by reacting in similar ways I mean they do everything in their power to ignore the fact that they’re sick

Which is funny because they both get annoyed when the other refuses to accept that they’re sick Ahsoka will take any hint that Anakin gives her that his condition is failing and runs with it

Man could breathe different way and she’s like “Master it sounds like you’re sick maybe you should lay down and let me take over” to which Anakin refuses

Ahsoka’s just as bad because Anakin tries his best to take care of her without letting her know he’s onto her

But of course she’s not stupid and can tell when he’s being more of a helicopter sibling than normal and calls him on it

God forbid they get sick at the same time because they just spend the whole time trying to take care of each other

And god forbid they get sick at the same time when Obi-Wan is around cause then they just turn into whiny children

Like no seriously it’s like a switch goes off in their brains that renders them into beings incapable of fixing their blankets

Obi-Wan obliges because what dad would stop taking care of their kid depending on the age

Honestly my brain kinda leaned into Ahsoka’s chaotic younger sister energy with this one

But I love the idea that she will just sneak attack Anakin and Obi-Wan

Most of her “sneak attacks” go something like this: Anakin walking down the hall minding his business when Ahsoka drops down from the ceiling

But before she can land on him he sidesteps and grabs her by the collar before she can hit the floor which results in Ahsoka moaning and groaning that she “Almost got him that time” and Anakin grumbles back that the only thing that “almost got her” was a black eye

He does have to admit that her random seak attacks have made her better at climbing

Sometimes she’ll walk up behind Obi-Wan and try to cover his eyes but most of the time all she gets is his shoulders

Most of the time it doesn’t even slow the man down he just keeps walking while asking her about her day and how classes are going

But as she gets older she’s able to mask her presence better and manages to sneak up on the men once or twice

Obi wan is always willing to admit defeat and congratulates her on her well earned victory

Anakin blames it on his age and that’s the only time that Ahsoka will ever hear him admit to being “old” (he’s 30)

It’s an ongoing joke that you shouldn’t separate Ahsoka and Anakin some say you risk a limb if you try others say you’re risking your life what most don’t mention is how you’re risking your sanity

Because they become the most annoying motherfuckers when they’re apart

Ahsoka acts like they’ve been separated for 10 years and will tell stories like she’s reminiscing about the good old times but most of the time the people she tells the stories to were present for the events so it goes something like this:

“Hey Rex do you remember when me and Anakin threw someone into that lake those were the days” “Yes I do remember that commander because I was that person and it was a week ago”

In his defense that’s the fifth story she told him in the past hour and here was there for all of them

Anakin’s just as bad but for a different reason because all he does is overthink

Like don’t get me wrong he keeps up the “cool guy” personality before she leaves but the second she’s gone he’ll sprinkle little questions into normal conversations like “Do you think she packed warm enough?” “Do they have enough emergency rations?” “Did anyone make sure that ship was up to code before they left?”

He made sure she packed for every single weather possible, he packed enough rations for two weeks even tho they were supposed to be gone for two days, and he checked the ship before they left

Sometimes Anakin or Ahsoka will just walk into each other's room and hang out they don't do much they kinda just sit down and talk

Sometimes they have a silent but mutual understanding to leave the room and go bother Obi-Wan in his

I love the idea that Obi-Wan and Anakin are victims of Ahsoka’s undying fascination with human hair she loves when their hair is long and encourages them to grow it out longer so she has more to work with

She all but falls to her knees when she sees how long Padme’s hair is and she’s the creator of some of Padme’s funkier hairstyles (both Anakin and Padme make a small note to force Ahsoka to do their future kid's hair)

She’s also weirded out by facial hair so every single time Obi-Wan shaves or Anakin tries to grow a beard they’re treated like a different person entirely

It took them a while to figure out why but once they did they lost their minds laughing (and also made silent vows not to do it again cause it freaked her out)

People often say it’s like Ahsoka and Anakin can read each other's minds without using the force

Some people find it hard to believe but it’s pretty easy to tell when people are having conversations through their bond and when two people are having a conversation just with looks

It’s not an uncommon sight for them to shoot each other looks after someone says something a little bold and for both of them to be laughing by the end of it

It’s just as common for them to get into little arguments and finish it in complete and total silence before one of them finally gives in with a huff

It’s kinda freaky but they don’t seem to notice and everyone around them is too used to it to care

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youcouldmakealife · 9 months

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SOTM: Georgie, Holden; good talk

For the prompt: Georgie clocking Holden’s queer

Writing Georgie’s been slow going of late and I just realised that might be because I wrote 1700 words of him right here, whoops.

Massive spoilers for the latest part of cards on the table.

Georgie tends to pick up on it pretty quick, the teammates he has that aren’t straight. It’s not really a gaydar — he dislikes the term, and anyway, it’s a misnomer, but he can’t think of a term to replace it. Nothing quite fits, explains what it is he picks up on, and he doesn’t think it’s any one trait he’s noticing, that there’s one thing in particular that makes the difference.

Some of it’s probably body language, some of it’s noticing where people’s gazes rest, some of it’s what someone says or doesn’t say, some of it he can’t describe in any other way than ‘gut feeling’, doesn’t know how he knows.

He told David, back in the day, that he noticed when people were attracted to him, and that’s true, but it’s not a necessity — he’s pegged guys who’ve been entirely disinterested in him. Not Chaps, or, hell, Lourdey either, but there have been a couple, and even then he’s picking up something.

Some of it feels like it’s coming from him, almost, like subconsciously, his brain figuring out who’s safe, safe to know, safe to tell, though of course he’s had straight teammates who were safe, queer teammates he didn’t say a thing to, for some reason or another. He’s pretty sure James is something, but they haven’t exchanged a word about it, meanwhile Finn knows all about Georgie, at least the greatest hits and the lowest lows.

He doesn’t listen to his gut like it’s gospel or anything. Gut feelings are more a sign on when to pay attention than anything else, and they’ve been right so far, but that doesn’t mean they’ll always be. It’s easy to make assumptions, especially now that Georgie’s more than a decade older than the rookies, practically came up in a different league.

The younger guys grew up with Riley and Lapointe already out, gay relationships on the TV shows they were watching, listened to openly gay musicians, had classmates who were out and proud and unafraid that being out and proud would lead to getting the shit kicked out of them by the jocks, who may have even been the jocks —

It wasn’t the world Georgie grew up in. Holden either, he’s pretty sure — he’s a few years younger than Georgie, and those years are big ones, mean Holden was barely in high school when Riley got outed, but Georgie thinks Holden’s got a bit more in common with him than he does with the kids.

And again, he could be wrong. Some guys are just open, friendly, touchy, and it comes off different than they mean it to. And Georgie’s pretty sure a few people he fucked around with back in high school would describe themselves as straight, nowadays, and they wouldn’t be lying either, not even to themselves.

Holden reminds him of those guys, at first, but not for long. There’s a certain hesitation before he answers a question with, ‘My girlfriend says…’ that makes Georgie think that he doesn’t actually have one, and if he does, she deserves better. The way he holds himself. Not quite careful, Georgie doesn’t think he’d use that word, but very aware of how he is holding himself. If he sprawls, he meant to. If he’s annoying you, he’s trying to.

The only thing Georgie doesn’t think is on purpose is the way his knee bounces during the pregame speeches, lineup readings, any point he has to sit still for a minute, staccato impatience. It’s something Robbie would do when he was particularly wound up. If it’s the same with Holden, he’s wound up all the time.

Bits and pieces make it past, though, enough to form a picture.

He doesn’t engage at all with a homophobic joke, not before Georgie shuts that shit down. He gets a pass, boring married guy with kid, doesn’t get the ‘what, ring a little close?’ that James might if he does it, Finn, so Georgie never waits, lets the job fall to him so neither of them have to deal with the bullshit.

He tenses when Bryce Marcus’ name comes up, the same way Georgie felt himself tensing every time he heard Riley or Lapointe’s at the beginning, hoping it wasn’t going to be followed up on, that he wasn’t about to be asked something, end up betraying himself.

And tonight, at the bar after a shootout win against the Red Wings, Georgie’s been half on his phone, half idly watching the Caps in San Jose, the sliver that remains aware of Holden chatting with a guy at the bar, body language just off from friendly, landing on something else.

The guy leaves, and Georgie pays a bit more attention, enough to see Holden cut out five minutes later, after looking around like he’s trying to make sure no one’s paying attention, furtive look on his face, in a way Georgie recognizes. Dipping out for a hook up is something you loudly brag about doing unless there’s a reason you don’t want the others to know, and Holden says he’s got a girlfriend, sure, but that’s not the cheater’s slink. Georgie knows what it looks like. Holden looks furtive, maybe, but he doesn’t look ashamed, or even like someone who should be.

Who knows, maybe he’s left for other reasons, left because the guy has a hook up, off scoring something else, but Georgie doesn’t think so. He’s not usually wrong, not about this kind of thing. Maybe that’s what all this is. Just a simple matter of ‘takes one to know one’. That all these times he’s just been seeing reflections of his own face.

There was a lot of that shit in Cleveland, but Georgie didn’t touch it. That might be the only thing he’s proud of about his time there. Possibly the only reason his career didn’t end there. Georgie’s known plenty of guys who’ve washed out early, and some of them it’s because they couldn’t find that last gear, make the final jump, but more than a few of them got the money, the freedom, the brush with fame, and they let it get to their heads. In their heads. Some of them figured shit out. Most didn’t.

The only reason Georgie’s still in the show is that he was talented enough that even at rock bottom, it wasn’t a question of whether he was in the roster, just where. He was a disappointment, ‘waste of a first round pick’, but even then, he was an NHL player. If he hadn’t been, he doesn’t know what would have happened. Better not to think about it, probably.

Georgie’s heading to the bathroom when he runs into Ryan coming out.

“You seen Chaser?” Ryan asks. “Can’t find him anywhere.”

“Saw him by the bar about twenty minutes ago,” Georgie says, which is technically true, and sometimes a technical truth is all you need.

“If you see him let me know?” Ryan asks. “Guy bet me I couldn’t pull that move off in a real shootout, so now he owes me a drink or three.”

“Will do,” Georgie says, “But he may have slunk out to avoid paying up.”

Ryan snorts. “Wouldn’t put it past him,” he says.

He keeps asking after Holden all night, even though Georgie buys him a drink for the spin-o-rama move, and he’s pretty sure James does too — if it hadn’t worked James probably would be giving him the silent treatment for trying that shit in a real game, but he gives credit where credit’s due — and Georgie hopes he doesn’t keep on it after tonight.

Georgie’s grabbing a last call snack at the hotel bar — he has a love-hate relationship with the fries at this particular hotel, the hate part being that he can’t leave Detroit without eating them at least twice — when Holden walks into the hotel lobby.

“Chaser, c’mere,” Georgie says, and the way Holden’s feet get rooted, face going through a whole journey, before he visibly steels himself — that would have done it right there, even if Georgie hadn’t already known. The forced casualness in his gait as he walks over? Georgie recognizes that too.

“Up late, old man,” Chaser says, sitting down in the stool beside him.

“Fries?” Georgie asks, and Holden sits down, taking a couple, orders a beer just under the wire of the actual last call.

“Beanie says you owe him a drink or three,” Georgie says. “Was looking all over for you, wouldn’t let it go.”

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Holden says. “Who knew he had the balls, huh?”

“I told him you’d probably slunk out early to avoid paying,” Georgie says, and Holden looks hilariously offended for a moment, before Georgie keeps talking. “Guy was cute.”

Holden’s so still he’s practically vibrating. Which should be an oxymoron, but it isn’t, at least not right now.

“I didn’t mention it,” Georgie says. “I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” Holden says.

“I had a boyfriend in college,” Georgie says, looking down at his fries, cold now, picked over. “It was pretty serious.”

“Then you hit the show,” Holden says, assumes, like it’s simple, and it isn’t, but maybe it isn’t that complicated either, or at least not as complicated as it’s always felt. Well, since Georgie made it complicated. Before that, he doesn’t think there’d ever been anything easier.

“Like I said, I’m not saying anything to anyone,” Georgie says, “but if you want to say anything to me, I’m here.”

“Okay,” Holden says, but he’s quiet. This is the quietest Georgie’s ever seen him, actually. He sips his beer, quick, like he lay a trap for himself by ordering it and now he’s trying to get himself out of it, and he doesn’t say a thing.

Georgie’s already paid his bill, and he figures he can put the poor guy out of his misery. “I’m going to head to bed,” he says. “Be safe, hey?”

Holden snorts. “Sure.”

“Better for you than pulling Cap’s pigtails anyway,” Georgie says, and by Holden’s splutter as he walks away, he worries he landed a little too close to the mark for anyone’s good.

Another thing he’ll have to keep an eye out for, then. Nobody tells you this shit when they offer you the A, but thinking back to Washington, he’s pretty sure team leadership knew more about what was going on than Georgie’s comfortable with to this day. So maybe he should have figured.

Georgie says a silent apology to the last of his fries, abandoned at the bottom of his basket. They’re good fucking fries — he hopes Holden doesn’t let them go to waste, but somehow he doubts he has much of an appetite right now.

#fic snippet #SOTM #georgie dineen #Holden Chase

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writefightandflightclub · 8 months

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Santi +/x AuDHD!reader headcanons

(could be platonic or romantic - but written as not co-habiting)

Author’s note: maybe this is too niche, idk, but sometimes I like to think about the blorbos and how they’d interact with an AuDHD reader (because that’s me, so for obvious reasons). I headcanon that Santi is particularly compatible with a neurodivergent reader, maybe because I’m being self-indulgent… but also because why on earth would he not be? So here are a few poorly written / cobbled together thoughts which have been rattling around in my brain.

PLEASE NOTE: These are written in as general a way as I could manage (which may make it slightly less fulfilling, sorry, as it’s therefore lost specificity) but please note: since everyone who is AuDHD is so completely and vastly different, I couldn’t possibly have made this “fit” everyone’s experiences. Sorry if there are things you don’t relate to, but I tried to include a few more common experiences in there so hopefully there’s at least something.

Also! If you have any hcs of your own (for any Oscar/Pedro characters) PLEASE share them because I want more ND!reader content out there! 😀🧡 (Will also consider ND!reader requests if you have them, provided I think I can do it justice!)

Warnings: brief mention of panic attacks / anxiety (Santi). Geared towards ways that Santi helps reader out - that’s where my head was at, so it is what it is. Broadly neuro-affirming, I’m not putting anyone down for any traits ofc, even if they do cause challenges sometimes! Hope that makes sense!

Santi is so organised and tidy. He can make a plan and execute it with great attention to detail (have you seen that storage locker?!). If you struggle to stay organised and keep the house tidy etc., Santiago will have no issue helping you out, whether it’s coming up with a routine, creating a system, or simply doing a quick blitz anytime he’s over at your house. He finds it sorta therapeutic anyway, and you never feel like he’s doing it because he judges you or the condition of your place. It’s just wired into him to find order. Hell, sometimes if you lose something around the place you call him to see if HE can remember where he last saw it, and usually he can. That military routine never really left him, even all those years later, so he’s a great constant for modelling structure!

Santi will FaceTime you to body-double whatever chores you want to complete. For example; you have a Wednesday evening tradition to call each other while you each fold the laundry, or do whatever else you need to get done. You do get things done, and he makes you laugh the whole time too. He sticks to this routine as much as he can, no matter what else he has going on, or which country he is in. He loves this quality time with you, and to him it’s just a bonus that it helps you out.

Running late to meet him? He’s learned to bring a book and a flask of coffee along. He’ll wait, you’re worth it.

Sensitive to noise? Santi can’t relate fully, but he knows what it’s like for some sounds to instil negative effects. (See how this veteran is feeling around the fireworks at 4th July and you’ll get it.) He will respect your need for quiet when you need it. Besides, he’s slowed down a lot since his younger years and more and more enjoys the little things like curling up and reading a book. That said, if you want some stimulation and fancy hitting a dive bar with blasting music, or wanna dance in the kitchen, he can also be convinced. He has the range to accommodate all of your sensory preferences, your routines and your impulsive ideas, and he’ll gladly follow your flow.

He’s a magician at regulating you. This man is observant and can read people like nobody’s business, so he knows when you’re getting overstimulated or overwhelmed - often before anyone else does. When he sees it happen he’s happy to help you calm your nervous system however you need. Whether that’s a soft / firm hug, distracting you by talking to you in his soothing voice, working-out with you, letting you fidget with him - his hands, bracelets, whatever - or borrowing a texture of his, like playing with his soft curls.

Better believe this guy sends you texts throughout the day to check that you’ve eaten / drank water.

If you’re running late to an appointment and he’s free he will 100% drive you.

He loves to cook and always “accidentally” makes extra, so that you always have a stock of tasty “emergency” meals in your freezer for days when you don’t have the energy / functioning to cook.

Don’t wanna make the phone call? Santi will do it for you. Besides, he can charm the socks off of anyone so it’s probably best he deals with it anyway.

Santi is charming but he also has the ability to be straight down the line in his communication, especially with you as he trusts you so much. That means you rarely have to guess what he’s thinking or feeling about any particular thing. He lays it out for you and that’s super helpful. Of course, he can be closed off about his more complex, deeper emotions, but that’s something you seem to bring out of him - at least, in ways that no-one else has managed. You’ve had plenty of deep heart-to-hearts with the man and you know you can count on each other in a pinch, whether you need comfort or to vent about something you have going on.

Santi experiences panic attacks and anxiety and can relate to some of the ways you also struggle. He gets that people’s brains work in different ways and he’s far from judgemental about that. You’ve never once made him feel lesser when he’s been struggling and he will NEVER do that to you either.

Your sense of humour cracks him up no end.

He loves that you can be “blunt” / direct / a little “too honest”. He always knows where he stands with you, and for someone as (secretly) insecure as Santi that’s no small thing.

If you indicate you are burnt-out… he BELIEVES you. No questions asked - except for what you need, of course.

Forgotten something? Santi has started carrying spares. This man is nothing if not prepared, and now that simply extends to you. Whatever day-to-day items you carry (or often lose) he makes a mental note of the item and brand and buys multiple - for his place, his truck, wherever.

This man has social skills galore, so you can lean on him at parties, or in whatever situation if you’re feeling uncomfy or want a “way in” to a conversation. You can even leave him to do all the talking if you like, though of course he will enable you to have the floor if he can see that you want it. On the flip side, if you talk a lot, he is absolutely listening and rapt with whatever you are coming out with.

Don’t always look him in the eye? That’s okay. The man is so beautiful he’s used to people not being able to stare directly at him 😝 Besides, he finds you and your mannerisms completely charming.

He’s deadly, sure, but overall he’s actually quite a calm and not hugely reactive person - especially in a crisis. That can be so helpful in balancing you out on some occasions where you may react in a heightened way, or be emotional or worried / catastrophising about something. Despite his ability to skip town at the drop of a hat - before deciding to stick around - he does have the ability to be pretty steady and stable and sometimes that’s what you need.

He appreciates you and everything you do for him. He helps you out sometimes but you never feel “in his debt”. He is endlessly praising all of your amazing strengths and attributes (amidst some fond teasing ofc) and appreciates all that you are as well as all you do for him, and he couldn’t ask for a better person to have in his corner.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #AuDHD!reader #Santiago Garcia x reader #neurodivergent!reader

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mcl38 · 5 months

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and in light of fun stuff i'd love to hear your thoughts on, saw a post a while back that got me thinking and basically reached the conclusion that carlos and lando's personalities complimented each other perfectly, which in a way brought out the best in both of them, while lando and daniel have very clashing personalities (not that they didn't get along eventually, just very different). meanwhile lando and oscar's personalities just like. match.

seen people say lando is to oscar what carlos was to him and in a way, yes (oscar clearly does look up to lando a bit and lando took the brunt of the media stuff in the beginning to make him more comfortable), but i also think there is a pretty big difference there. landoscar just feel very aligned to me idk. would like to hear what your opinions are :) think you always have good takes

so i left this for a couple days bc its literally been slow cooking in my brain like a stew... thinking abt this so much. u bring such a good point abt the difference between complementing and aligning / matching...

i often find it rly fun to look at friendships and relationships thru the lens of sibling dynamics - its my own personal brand of astrology or ig personality typology that im addicted to. and w carlos and lando i think the reason they 'complemented' each other so well was bc they very easily fell into an older-younger sibling dynamic - both r middle children, and idk the exact numbers but carlos should probably be around oli's age (landos older brother, who lando's rly close to, arguably the closest of all his siblings - not only did they used to travel for karting competitions back in the day, but nowadays they share a core friend group and go on holiday together, which is cute). so like, lando as a 19 year old rookie, shy but full of energy, is in the perfect position to be lightly bullied, shown the ropes, taught random shit, be shoved into walls, etc by someone who likes to play within that older brother role

so you have that first of all, which already creates some familiarity for lando (who otherwise is quite slow to thaw out of keeping ppl at arms length), and also the fact that they got along w each other quite easily. i dont think theyre that similar (again, complement, not match, its so brilliant), but theyre both entertained by quite simple things, which is y their humour tended to be so lowest-common-denominator: words that sound funny, hitting each other in the balls, dirty jokes, etc. i think where they DO find similarities is when theyre serious - they both have a very head-down team-first sort of attitude (which i think rly solidified in lando BC of carlos), so their trust in each other in terms of that helped make their more personal friendship rly straightforward and natural

daniel meanwhile... where do i start. i spent two years losing my mind in dms over the glorious trainwreck awkwardness that is dando and their interactions. i still cant QUITE parse it but its so good. u have lando whos used to having quite a reactive/passive friendship with carlos, suddenly putting his feet on the ground and his shackles up bc he stopped liking the directions he was being pushed in w daniel. i think daniel deffo is a big, domineering personality, naturally kind of selfish (youngest sibling AND im pretty sure the only boy) (im not judging him im also the youngest i can reclaim), and to keep it concise i think it kind of gave lando the ick.

lando is a very judgemental person, and his humour is quite specific - he'll laugh at the dumbest things ever, like the word 'blowy' or 'pubes' or jokes abt girls running away from him, AND also rly subtle sarcasm that takes a lot of context clues. but he just cannot operate within the middle ground: the typical snl-style (american type) classic humour. he just doesnt get it. when ppl try to do it with him u get things like 'lando i hope you're sitting down... you're p2' 'i don't know why will said that, i'm literally strapped to my seat' and 'throwback thursday' 'it's funny cos it's friday'. he sucks at metaphors and doesnt have patience to wait for punchlines, so the fact that daniel is kind of like universally 'classically' funny actually worked against him - especially bc daniel was fuelled w the confidence that lando liked him and found him hilarious

so thats actually the other thing - is daniels incapability of actually listening to lando. again, we kind of start from the standard of the carlos relationship, with lando as the reactor, but carlos was always rly attentive towards lando. and then daniel comes in - u have lando like a dog who figured out ur trying to exit the park and has suddenly refused to keep walking along, and daniel holding an endlessly extendable leash, whistling a little tune, completely oblivious that his dog is still like three streets down. lando was throwing him jab after jab after joke after joke for like the entirety of 2021 ('they just dig up jam' forever my favourite), but they would just fly over daniels head, making lando become more and more detached and disinterested in interactions w daniel. waaaay into their partnership as teammates, theres this video of lando telling daniel that theyre serving cookies (?) somewhere, and daniel says 'so you got a brownie?' and i think lando says smth like 'nah a cookie, not a brownie, otherwise i wouldve said brownies', to which daniel is like 'i respect that, you're finally dishing it back'. and i rmbr my reaction was like FINALLY ? WYM FINALLY?? hes BEEN doing this for SO LONG like ALL THE TIME now.

idk, its weird bc opinions r rly split on dando, some ppl in yt comments or reddit or whatever still say they were the funniest duo in f1, but other ppl will always pipe up saying the energy was awkward and it was clear they didnt like each other. neither of those things r true for me - i think they did like each other, especially later on (professionally, i think lando definitely had a lot of anxieties abt having to outperform the big new top dog in the team, which made him a bit colder, but i think he gained a lot of respect for daniel when he saw how much daniel was struggling but how much he was still willing to show up and do the whole job until the end w a smile on his face). i have a suspicion they probably get along way better 1 on 1, bc a lot of daniel's off-putting intensity happens when he tries to play up for the cameras. but i am also partly thankful for that too, bc we had a couple art challenges in 2021-2022 where daniel did all the talking, so lando could focus on having fun with his Little Tasks, and thats literally my fav type of mclaren video, so cheers danny.

so then we get to oscar. i think the main difference with oscar is that, for the first time, lando doesnt have a bigger personality imposing itself on him. if he used to b reactive with carlos and daniel, oscar is way more laid back and passive than him, which means lando is finally for the first time the one setting the pace. especially in the early days, this was obvious - lando would throw out the beginning of a bad joke, expecting to be interrupted or one-upped, but oscar would just sit there quietly creature-staring, waiting for lando to finish his train of thought. it was so awkwardly delightful. so what u get now is that lando isnt playing catch up anymore - which doesnt mean hes making oscar do it now. on the contrary, what ive found is that lando brings his personality to oscar-volume, which sounds like it would be dull but it so isnt. again, he thrives in quiet subtlety, and so does oscar, so u get videos like the finish the lyrics where u have to turn the volume all the way up to even hear what theyre saying, but its so worth it bc its SO fun once u do.

in terms of matching, theyre definitely quite similar in terms of humour. both of them love the awkward pauses and jim halpert looking into the camera and eye rolls and deadpan. it took a while to find their rhythm w two of them playing the same joke-role and not having a straight man (comedy term!!) to bounce off of, but i think they figured it out. theyre different enough in terms of family dynamics (oscar is an eldest brother w many sisters, but also younger than lando) that neither of them would fit a pre-made space, so they can just kinda be on equal level to each other. this is especially true since theyve grown up in the same circles - never raced each other directly, but lando moved up categories rly fast, which means oscar spent his late teens mostly racing ppl lando was racing in karting and early single seaters. (most significantly, max fewtrell, who oscar used to b in the junior renault academy with, and who i think is kind of a good representation of what lando and oscar have in common - lowkey, sarcastic, deadpan, but also not taking himself too seriously)

to come back to what u said abt oscar-lando being inverse lando-carlos: i also see it to some extent, like u said (theres those tiktok edit parallels like lando telling oscar to cut his hair the way carlos said it to him in 2019). i think its mostly something lando himself is conscious of and sort of imposes on himself - he often compares oscar's personal trajectory to his, like when he says oscar will open up and be less quiet once he gets comfortable (which was true), so i think hes deffo aware of the comparison. but i dont think it runs any deeper than that, bc i havent seen lando position himself as the same kind of mentor-guru in-the-know older figure. i just dont think his personality can mould to that

idk sorry for this novel size answer. i have even more thoughts abt oscar and lando that im currently trying to shove into a fic so like. all of this has been floating in my brain for ages now

#ty SO much anon beloved #pls dont let my delay descourage u from sending more asks like this #i realise i asked for these and then proceeded to not answer them #unfortchunately its demand avoidance its a thing in my brain that doesnt let me do things :/ this ask was delightful tho #SO funnnnnn hihiiiiiiii #anyways off to cook myself dinner #lando #oscar #anon #ask #carlos #daniel #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #oscar piastri #mine

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