#i know that once i start the writing process my mind will blank and nothing with come from it and its fucking painful cause wtf

[ethanharli]

Where is this sudden motivation to write smut coming from wtf

#i know that once i start the writing process my mind will blank and nothing with come from it and its fucking painful cause wtf #but like... hoodies #idk why this is plaguing me so much but just- #fucking one of the cod boys while theyre wearing a large hoodie... maybe some thigh highs to the mix #im a mess #help #actually ima just hide in shame that sounds better #cuddling with tanjiro

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

#Iron Fist 🥊 #my writing #boxer!miguel o'hara #boxer!miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #boxer!miguel x author!reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x fem!reader #atsv x you #age gap relationship #miguel my love

[physalian]

Writing with Executive Dysfunction (or how to lower the barrier of entry)

So you want to write a book, but all you have is a cool one-liner, a niche super power you want to explore, and the blurry image of a love interest with a two-syllable kind of name. You don’t know where to start, what to tackle first, how to jump in the deep end.

Can you write the ending first? What if you want this really cool gimmick in a fight scene but can’t write action to save your life? Do you start in media res or with a prologue, or with the character starting their daily routine? Do you write the villain’s POV first?

Or do you start with an outline, character sheets, a title, summary, your themes and motifs? How many pages and pages of worldbuilding notes should you have built up before you’re good to tackle the first page? You’ve heard time and again the critical importance of the first three sentences. The first chapter if your audience is generous.

The pressure mounts to be unique, but not try-hard, descriptive but not flowery, intriguing, but not confusing, all in the first hundred or so words. You sit there staring at the little blinking black line on your blank page… and the idea gets shelved for another day. It collects virtual dust in the backlogs of your computer, forgotten until you have to clear out space on your hard drive and stumble across unspent potential.

Everyone and their dog has their own bits of writing advice and I’m sure I’m about to echo tips that have been around the block once or twice, but there are a few I don’t see talked about enough.

Whether you suffer from severe procrastination, fear of failure before you even begin, the overwhelming limitlessness of choice, or just can’t sit down and dedicate any time to see what happens, this list might be for you.

1. Write Every Day

This is nothing new, but I’m going to tackle the implementation of such a habit over why it’s important. You already know why it’s important. Writing every day doesn’t demand a full page of a Word doc, or 200 words before you can get up and do something else. Sometime a witty dialogue exchange comes to mind while you’re doing dishes – write that down.

Or you saw a cool name for a character in a commercial – write that down.

Or you had a dream about your characters in a high-octane street chase – write down the synopsis.

Personally, I use Apple Notes. It’s free, I can log-in to iCloud through a browser and keep writing, and my phone is always with me. I have dedicated folders to sort which notes belong to which concepts.

Disclaimer: Apple Notes is meant for exactly that: Note taking. I take it to the extremes, but it’s not a word processer. It’s not meant for anything more strenuous than putting virtual pen to virtual paper.

I build up so many variations of scene ideas and concepts for character arcs that my ‘notes’ for any given book can be as long as a full-length novel. Most of the time, admittedly, those ideas get outdated fast as I move on to bigger and better things, but the point is this: I never would move on to better things if I didn’t have somewhere to start.

I have a personal grudge against OneDrive for a sync failure losing 20k words of a WIP, so most of my writing is done through Google Docs and saved to Google Drive. It’s not the most powerful word processor, but you don’t have to worry about formatting until the very end and can export later. It’s free, like Apple Notes (assuming you have an iPhone), and the smart phone app for Google programs works phenomenally better than the MS Word app – so once again, the barrier for being within reach of places to jot down ideas is lowered. My phone is always with me.

It doesn’t have to be digital – carry around a journal or a notebook or a legal pad if you want. Whatever gets your creative juices flowing. The point is to have somewhere to take all the ideas you have in your head and get them onto paper the moment inspiration strikes.

2. Writing is Supposed to be Fun

The dreaded writer’s block, scourge of authors everywhere. You’ve reached the point in your manuscript where you’ve caught up to the epic adventure you’ve written in your head. The little writer in your brain has gone on strike and you’re left in the doldrums of how to transition from one chapter to the next. One idea to the next. One scene, one line of dialogue.

Answer: Skip it.

Unless you have a hard deadline to make, writing is supposed to be fun. Your best work comes when you’re passionate about doing it, not when you’re holding your fingers hostage to put something on the page or else.

When you start getting frustrated, walk away. When you get stressed, walk away. The manuscript will still be there once you’ve slept on it for a day or two and you’ll be glad for it. Or, write a different scene. Write a hypothetical scene (more on this point later). Write anything you want and come back to the hard parts later. The gaps will fill eventually, and if they don’t—consider what about that transition or scene is so hard and consider axing it entirely. If it’s frustrating for you, it’s probably boring or unimportant to the reader.

3. Script it

My favorite writer’s crutch is to make a skeleton of the scene I want to have, fill it with dialogue, and move on. The pretty thematic narrative can come later. It’s halfway between an outline and a first draft and, for me, someone to whom dialogue comes easier than narrative, this is another barrier removed to letting creativity flow.

I don’t have to think about dialogue tags or movement of a scene or how exactly I want to structure a sentence or describe the setting. Scripting lets me sus out the pacing of a given scene, test run a conversation I have in my head to see if it might really work before investing all the time and effort of a fully fleshed out first draft, only to erase it all later.

You can do this mid-narrative, too. If you just want to skip over a couple lines that aren’t coming naturally to you, script a vague sense of stage directions until you get to easier narrative and come back later.

When I say scripting, mine look something like this:

Character A (ChA): [position within the setting, tone of voice, any notable gesture or action that enhances the dialogue] “Dialogue.” [specific dialogue tag, if necessary] … (often a paragraph break) … “Dialogue.” Character B (ChB): “Dialogue.” [emotion, reaction, details about the setting that are now important, new revelations by the narrating POV] … “Dialogue,” [action. Tonal shift. Movement] ChA: “Dialogue.” [action] … (scene continues)

In practice:

… ChA: [kicks back against the wall of the room, arms crossed. Annoyed, waiting for ChB to speak first, but they don’t] “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to leave?” [head tilts, still waiting on an answer ChB isn’t giving] “All you had to do was ask.” ChB: “You were having fun,” [quiet, wringing their hands in their lap on the edge of the bed] “You wanted me there. So I was there.” [huffs, flips their hair back. Not sure how many times they’ve had this conversation. Will always hate parties, not going to suddenly like them just because ChA is there] “You can either have me there, or make sure I’m comfortable. You can’t have both.” ChA: “So now I’m the bad guy.” [foot thumps on the floor like a judge’s gavel] …

Scripting also lets you fill a scene with multiple new characters before you figure out their names or descriptions, tagging their lines with the bare minimum. I often test out entire action scenes (which I loathe writing) in script form, so I know I’m satisfied with the pacing, blocking, and amount of movement before I lock it in and write the first draft of actual narrative. It also forces you to make sure your characters are taking actions and not just sitting at a table like talking mannequins.

Transitioning from script to narrative can be mighty tedious sometimes if you try to fit in chunks of narrative in the exact places you left on your initial pass. Fictional prose is organic, so let it breathe.

Maybe you let a character monologue for too long, or they have too much movement in a scene that becomes unnatural and clunky. Or the entire scene ran away from you because the conversation was just that good. Whatever the case, a script, bare minimum, gets your foot in the door.

4. Write Fanfic

I like sci-fi and fantasy. I also like taking my sci-fi and fantasy characters and throwing them into ‘fanfics’ to test out relationships and start to get a feel for what makes them unique from the rest of the cast.

Sometimes the setting changes to something mundane, sometimes it’s a hypothetical scene that the current pacing of the narrative just doesn’t have room for, or it’s a flashback you’ll never include but want to have written so it’s concrete when you reference it in the present.

It also helps you fall in love with your characters when you can write them without consequence, doing whatever, doing whoever, saying whatever, going wherever. In fanfic, their personalities can start to write themselves and you discover them as you write them. And, hey, sometimes you come up with a concept so good, you change the entire real narrative around to fit it.

All your attention doesn’t have to be on the story you’re actually writing.

5. Keep All of Your Deleted Scenes

I keep so many of mine, the ‘deleted scenes’ doc of one book is 40k words longer than the actual manuscript, filled with numerous variations of the same scene written over and over again in vain trying to keep something that no longer works.

Keep them for several reasons:

It reminds you of how far you’ve come.

You can pick through the bones for bits of dialogue and setting descriptors even if the majority is trashed.

You remind yourself of what didn’t work before, so you don’t fall in that same trap again.

If you change your mind, all you have to do is copy-paste it back in.

6. Remember First Drafts are First Drafts

Let the word spew flow forth from your fingers and don’t look back and start questioning every decision and all its flaws until your creativity tank starts sputtering on empty. It’s supposed to be messy, it’s supposed to have plot holes and typos and inconsistencies and things to fact-check. If you start hyper-fixating on making sure your manuscript has absolutely no errors before moving on to the next chapter, it will never get written, and you’ll convince yourself you’re a terrible writer.

Writing is easy. Revisions are hard. Just as storytelling doesn’t have to be linear, neither does the writing process. If that critical first line just won’t come to you, stuff a mediocre one in its place and move on. Write the ending first. Write all the romantic entanglements first. Write the big climactic argument first and figure out how the rest falls into place around your beautiful centerpiece.

But remember: You do, at some point, have to write the hard stuff. Hopefully, when the time comes, you look at all the rest you’ve written and are proud enough of your progress that those daunting scenes that looked impossible before become much more approachable now. Do it for your future readers who want to know how it ends. Do it for your characters. Do it for you.

#writing advice #writing a book

[danddymaro]

Believe me| Anasui x Reader

we got a clingy reader here guys (ToT)/~~~

so its basically a Clingy/insecure reader x Anasui thing cause sometimes we toxic, but we toxic together damn it. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t love a clingy S/O

Sorry, I had this widdle idea OWO, i’m still trying to get comfy writing him.

Word count: 1392

Believe Me

You're home.

You think about it with relief as you find your way into his embrace.

sluggishly you move to the destination, and once you reach it, your body slumps toward him.

In the secretive room that only you and your friends know about, there's just one more confined spot that only you can find refuge in, and it's in his arms.

It's a safeness when every bothersome thought you have has you so anxious and uncertain it feels like the damn walls of the prison might crumble down and crush you.

His body felt so incredibly warm, so unmistakably strong as the muscles beneath his smooth skin hold you close to him, securing you in a world he creates just for you.

And during that moment, you breathe out a soft hum that was of the coziest relief.

"Anasui...." you nearly moan, and you say his name with so much fondness, he swears that it's the sweetest sound.

He tells you over and over without tiredness that he adores how your tone changes when you say it, much more speak to him altogether.

He holds you, keeps you on the ground when your mind runs so much your body feels distant from you.

You stay there together, unmoving, and after a long breath in , you realize how you have yet to say anything to him. You just cling onto him, and it’s one of your troubles.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, your face pressed against his chest, hiding from the world, even from him.

Something's come over you, and it's only in that moment that you can finally be you, the you who can show the cracks that marry your mask of strength you have to show during your imprisonment.

He pulls up a rather gentle smile that’s barely existent as he brings his eyes down to where you are,

" Sorry for?" he asks, curious, wanting to know what's on your mind.

By the way your hands press against his back he has no doubt something’s weighing down your heart, and he has to know what it is.

"Because I'm like this..." you add, and it makes him pull back just a bit to try and actually look at you, to recognize what face you are wearing.

"Like...?" he says just that word, and you can see he's confused.

There's a little pout he performs when he's trying to think, and you smile halfheartedly at him because it makes you feel even more guilty for the things your mind conjures up.

He’s too sweet to you, too patient.

" Needy..." you tell him, embarrassed.

"- Complicated," you then add, not sure how else to describe yourself.

You start to think too much, and when you do, you need him.

You need his presence, his touch.

You need that something that makes your body feel yours rather than the strange numbness that dwells within.

- And lately, you’ve been thinking about how much you take from him.

He chuckles warmly, and the sound is somewhat airy as he shifts, because he gets it. You’d talked about it before, mentioned it just once before dismissing the conversation.

-But he was a man to remember it. 

His right hand is then holding your chin, tilting it up just a bit to look at you better.

His eyes look down at you, making you feel blank, absolutely nothing before you are struck with a powerful surge of everything that makes that man your utter weakness.

It's like it takes you a moment to process it all before you're hit full force.

you visibly shake with the way he stares down at you because it's like you are the only thing there for him to look at.

"Again with that..." he murmurs, realizing what it is that troubles you.

He gives you a small peck, and even if it's short-lived, he still closes his eyes like it's a deep press, like he savors all of it even if it's the tiniest sample of you.

“My love...” he breathes, "I sometimes wonder if I'm doing something wrong," he then says as he goes in for another kiss, and then another.

You accept them, responding back without a trouble in the world before he says more, 

"- Am I not loving you enough?" he adds with a quaver to his voice as he takes a short pause.. 

You can hear it in his tone and your heart clenches just a bit because none of it is his fault.

"What are you missing from me?" he asks as his lips brush yours again, and it's a question he asks himself.

He has to know, anything to get closer to you.

Anything to not lose you.

You think about the question because it's one you ask yourself. It's what you wonder about your own being because you know you’re the problem.

Immediately your eyes burn, and you suck in a shaky breath as you pull back.

"No!" you can't find a way to say it all at once, to tell him how if anyone is screwing up it's you. 

Your hands touch his cheeks, holding them so that even if you can't speak it, he can see it in your eyes.

 He can read you and find the answer there.

- That you love him...love him Too much.

So much that you're the one that's insecure.

You are the one that just thinks too much about all the what if's.

Like, what if he realizes that you're not good enough; that your little moments are too much trouble for him?

What if he regrets being with you...

.

.

.

What if buried somewhere in him, there's a part holding onto Jolyne?

"Obviously I am if you feel this way," he said with a small blow of dissatisfaction, but he doesn't quite take it with insult. 

He doesn’t seem angry, or even annoyed, just discontent with the matter.

He loves you as you are, and he does mean it.

If you feel uncertainty, then he's there to give you that assurance you need, because there's no one more devout than he is.

“I feel...” you start, and you nearly choke as you try to continue, “I love you! I feel like I love you!” you tell him. “I know I love you!” you muster.

“I do...and I need you,” you continue, and it tugs at his heart to hear that desperation.

"You need me..." if you could only understand how much it incites a primal heat in him when he truly thinks about it.

-For you to say it, it has him weak.

You, as strong as you are, have a weakness that only he can tend to, one that only he's witnessed.

You trust him, You hold onto him.

You seek him and feel just as drugged by him as he is by you.

You, whose voice doesn't quaver in the face of fear, softens so tenderly when spoken to him.

No one's ever comforted you the way he has, no one has touched your soul as he has and could, and he swallows hard before he goes in again for another kiss that has you breathless as he backs you into the chilled wall of the room.

The kiss is different from the ones of before, as it’s much more desperate.

his arms wrap around you again, and you lose yourself in his affection.

Again your mind blanks, and you don't think of anything but how wonderful it feels to have him invade your senses in the selfish way he does, like he can't get enough of you and needs more.

Oh you feel so stupid.

How could you doubt him? 

How could you be such an idiot?

you ask yourself how, and you feel even more guilty over those invading thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere..." you hear him say, like he’s reading your mind and answering the next thought that tells you you don’t deserve him.

The way he's holding you close tells you that it would have to be a powerful force that tears you apart.

He stops for just a moment to sweetly hold your face, his eyes looking into yours with promise,

A soft 'I love you' escapes his beautiful lips before he goes in for another passionate kiss.

“Don’t doubt me...” he pleas.

Little note for my buddy I didn’t tag cause I'm nervous: Hey you little Florida man Sloot. I hope you liked it  ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

#anasui narciso #anasui x reader #anasui x reader insert #anasui x y/n #anasui x you #anasui narciso x reader #anasui narciso x reader insert #anasui narciso x y/n #anasui narciso x you #JJBA fanfiction #jjba fanfic #JJBA #Part 6 Stone Ocean #Stone Ocean #stone oncean fanfic #stone ocean fanfiction #jjba stone ocean #part 6 jjba

[oathbreakerapologist]

Sortie Conlang Exploration 1: Oh God We're Really in It Now

EDIT THIS IS INCORRECT LMAO

There's really nothing to justify this project other than my sheer desire to peel back every layer I can find in this goddamn comic until I've burned it into my brain permanently. What's this project? There's a conlang in Sortie (et al) and I'm gonna try to figure it out the long way.

The first appearance of this script in SADS/Sortie is at the end of SADS #5.

Based on placement and context, I think this is a transliteration of "thank you for reading" (written right-to-left) because the letters line up where I'd expect them to be (e.g., see the repeated glyphs at the end of the third word from the right and the start of the fourth word from the right—that'd be the "R" in "for" and "reading", and see the repeated glyphs in the second position of both of the middle two words, that's the "O" in "you" and "for"). I'm going to use this as a key. This is a big assumption that I'm accepting for now because it's the best way I have to start, but I recognize that the rest of this project fails if I'm either (1) wrong about the meaning of this inscription or (2) wrong that the letters that show up in Sortie correspond to their usage here or (3) wrong about both. So with that liability in mind, I proceed.

The first part of this process is to collect all uses of the conlang in Sortie (#1–#3, for now) and figure out which of the letters that appear there are ones we now speculatively know (based on the key), and which ones we don't.

I went through and filled in blanks for all the ones I knew based on the key phrase—those are the ones in green next to each inscription. Then I went through the ones I didn't know from the key phrase and recorded them in the unknown box. I ended up with eleven unknown glyphs, which is not a terrible number (actually much lower than I expected, but more on that later). I might even have less than that, because some of them are quite possibly just slightly different forms of ones I have already seen; I was deliberately quite liberal about classifying things as unknown, as I'd rather artificially inflate my number of unknowns than misclassify something if I wasn't absolutely sure it was an instance of a certain letter. I numbered those unknowns and filled in the blanks with those numbers in yellow. If/when I reference a word like "H(1)(2)RD" (from Sortie #1 p. 121, and of course written RTL there—I flip words to LTR for my convenience when writing about them), read that as H-(mystery letter 1)-(mystery letter 2)-R-D.

Then I marked all the letters that appeared in the key phrase but not in sortie in orange in the known letters box. This is a surprisingly high number of letters; of the 14 unique letters in the key phrase, only 7 appear in the several bits of text taken from Sortie. The 7 letters omitted include all the vowels, except (infuriatingly) "O," which appears exactly once in Sortie #3 text. Jumping the gun a bit, but for reasons I'm about to get into, I suspect that the glyph I took to be "O" has actually been repurposed for something else, because I don't actually expect the letter "O" to appear in the text.

And that's because I think this conlang is an abjad, a writing system in which only the consonants are represented, leaving the reader to infer the vowel sounds. That explains the omission of vowels. And, for the record, I am fairly confident that the vowels are actually omitted, for a couple reasons.

Firstly (and most speculatively), our bank of letters from the SADS inscription gives us 6 consonants. Then we have at maximum 11 mystery letters, so at maximum 17 letters. Even if we're making use of an extremely limited vowel inventory (say, 4 vowels), that leaves us with at maximum 13 consonants. That's a much more limited consonant inventory than we'd expect, even if we assume there are a few uncommon letters that don't appear often enough to show up in the text taken from Sortie. Most European languages are in the mid-20s, so ~17 letters is quite short (there's several Pacific languages with letter counts in the teens, so it's not impossible, but it's unusual, especially considering the obvious Phoenician influence to the language). But ~17 is a perfectly reasonable number of consonants.

Secondly (and most concretely), there's just a bunch of consonant clusters that are probably unpronounceable if we assume they're supposed to be pronounced as written, i.e. without vowels, like "RFH," "RKR," and "DGD."

So I think it's an abjad. That's useful to know.

As for next steps, I think I'm going to write a quick script to count frequency of individual letters as well as two- or three-letter strings at the starts and ends of words, with the hopes of identifying commonly-occurring word parts. Without it, I can already pick out a few interesting words, but it'd be faster and more accurate to have a script for it. As for interesting words, "H(1)" is short and it shows up a couple times at the start of a sentence. If I can identify the word order (I think Phoenician was VSO, but I'm not going to assume that's true about the conlang), that'll help me figure out what part of speech "H(1)" is. There's also one string that seemingly occurs twice with an interesting variation: "H(6)(6)DGD" is said by the masked man on Sortie #1 page 123, then "H(6)(6)DGR" is said by him on page 124. A change of suffix? A verb tense? That's all pure speculation, but I'm guessing that is the same word root.

To be continued............

(Man, it'd be really fucking funny if I'm wrong about the key phrase I've been using to decode these.)

#not bg3 #sortie #sad sack #my sad sack thought journal

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

Hi!!! Sorry I know you reblogged that DVD fic commentary post like literally last year HOWEVER I have been going insane over your Cinderella!pete fic and (not)imaginary friend tinkly and was hoping you would like to share your thoughts? It’s fine if you don’t I just really love all of your npmd fics!

Hi Hi Hi @sanguineed!!! Sorry this took so long I have SO many thoughts and honestly i apologize if this is NOTHING i truly just infodumped about thought process for like a million words and have no clue if it's anything or even coherent hgkjdflkll

(Cinderella Pete fic link)

(Imaginary Friend fic link)

OKAY SO starting with Cinderella pete:

I’m honestly obsessed with Cinderella aus they’re my one weakness because I’m a big hurt/comfort and fairy tale loser and they are DEEP in that hurt-comfort-fairy-tale sauce, but they’re also a very fun blank slate that you can do SO MUCH WITH

So, honestly, from the second I watched NPMD and the characters burrowed their way deeply into my beautiful mind I had a really bare bones ‘day-dream-a-fic-in-my-brain’ lautski cinderella au that was nothing and I never planned on writing it and then one of the Lautski Week prompts was fairy tale and I rewatched season one of once upon a time (unrelated to the prompt list, i do that like once a year) it very rapidly because A Much More Detailed thing

I didn’t want to just do a normal step-family plot line because then that gets very weird and complicated having to really hone in on the non-existent spankoffski parents and I wanted Ted to be involved, so i just, honestly, fully yoinked Erica from princess and the pauper’s backstory and went ‘okay that works’

AND THEN back to once upon a time (in case y’all aren’t fellow ouat-heads): so in that show rumplestiltskin canonically murders cinderella’s fairy godmother and becomes her new fairy godmother (just, like, much more sinisterly) and that concept is so horrific and fascinating that it has been rotating in my brain since I was nine years old and resurfaced just in time as I was starting this fic

Because I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to have a traditional fairy godmother at first? I was just going to have his friends help him, and then I was like OH! Miss Holloway! Of course! And then tinky slowly rose into view in the middle distance and unfortunately there was NOTHING i could do but make him the fairy godmother stand in (which, thank god, tbh idk if I would have been able to write a substantial enough plot without him there to make things Bad)

It just all worked out SO well in a way I really wasn’t expecting because Steph is a REALLY fun prince(ss) charming! Because she’s Not! Good! At! It! But thats almost entirely because she’s Not! Trying! To! Be!

It’s just very fun to show the contrast between both steph and pete having been born into their roles/titles, and how it affects them/they react to it. Steph’s got way more expectations, and her role is technically more ‘important’ but she resents a lot of the really awful parts and isn’t being supported in the way she should be so of course she’s not the best at it! And on the flip side pete is WAY overqualified for what he has to do and he KNOWS that but there's literally nothing he can do to fix it,,,,, and,,,, they’re gonna kiss,..,.,..

Ughghghh theres so much more about this fic id love to talk about but honestly all the really fun stuff is still coming so I may have to come back to this post so i dont spoil! I do have to say: pete’s about to have such a bad time and then eventually SUCH a good time!

AND THEN YES NON-IMAGINARY FRIEND TINKY!!!! MY BELOVED!!!

I’m honestly so thrilled I was actually able to pull that one into a real fic, because it was just such a fun concept that bonked around in my head for like a week and I was convinced it was gonna stay there. But it didn’t! And you all seem to enjoy it so im very glad!!

Honestly that one stems ENTIRELY from the line in the nmt Yellow Jacket where Lex says she used to be able to see Webby (i thinkkkkkk someone also made a tumblr post about the same thing that wormed it’s way into my brain but i have NOT been able to find it so if someone knows the one Im talking about plssss let me know) and i started to think about the lords in black potentially pulling a webby on their own chosen?

Because Tinky is obsessed with ted, we know this, but theres a HUGE age gap between pete and ted and i think it would be very fun for a tinky to look down at one time line’s ted, whose already eighteen-ish and at best would think he was losing his mind, and try to get to him through his not-yet-born brother,,,,, like it’s so upsetting,,,,, very fun though

I also just REALLY love writing the spankoffski brothers (i’ve got two older siblings, one of whom is significantly older than me, and sibling dynamics are some of my favorites to write) and it was really fun to explore them at the Peak of their age gap. Ted is such an interesting character; he loves his little brother but he’s also an asshole and pretty self-centered so he’s doing a lot right (answering pete’s questions, not caring what Pete wears, trying his best not to swear or upset him) but he isn’t Built for child care so he’s also ignoring pete for his tv show and prone to snap when something that (admittedly is so incredibly fucked up) upsets him gets brought up. 

He’s a guy who works best in extreme situations; he’s the best at being a brother when he’s thrown into action (getting pete out of the road/forcing his parents to get pete help), but he’s not exactly a Bad brother other times,,,, he’s just a dude,,,, just a guy,,,, 

I also kind of wanted to make it unclear if pete Does have low blood sugar episodes or if thats tinky all on his own, because i think playing with the Power Of Belief is a really fun thing in stories like this (can you…. tell i ran essentially an It fandom blog for like three years ghfksl)

So, to break the Pete-tinky belief timeline down (prob unnecessarily but i think it’s fun):

Pete was born and tinky has ALWAYS been there, Pete does not think this is at all weird and also has always known tinky so it would be like suddenly deciding your mom isn’t real– you wouldn’t do it, it wouldn’t even cross your mind

He’s a kid, so everyone humors him and assumes it’s an imaginary friend thing (and his parents are older and old fashioned so even if it sometimes tilted a little farther from conceivable little kid with an imaginary friend territory they’d never EVER assume or mention that it could be something a little more serious/an actual problem)

Any time his voices doubts about people thinking tinky was imaginary tinky 'very logically' explains it as pete just being special, so the only one who can see him, and, once again, he’s always seen and known tinky was there so this makes way more sense then him just NOT BEING REAL

He does something really dangerous, TED specifically forces everyone to actually figure it out, and the only conceivable thing a doctor can find is pete is diabetic, specifically prone to low blood sugar episodes, which can cause hallucinations

Pete is a Very Logical kid, and suddenly a seed of doubt has actually been planted with reasoning

Tinky knows this and Does Not Like it but as it keeps going and he keeps getting more upset and everyone keeps making a plan to deal with pete’s diabetes he’s started to get more and more convinced that tinky might not actually be real

Once he’s more convinced than he isn’t that tinky is a hallucination tinky starts to lose his hold, and once pete starts taking low blood sugar precautions he either creates a block so tinky can ONLY show up to him when his blood sugar is low OR tinky personally fucks with his blood sugar so he can be seen (like a fucked up version of lex with webby- it’s just a far more logic and fact based way of growing out of it/not being allowed to fully see him)

As he grows up he forgets just how convinced he had been that tinky was real and just generally gets used to this weird little quirk of his low blood sugar/fully dreads it

THEN pete goes into the old waylon place and because it’s the main alter for the LIB tinky regains ALL his power and then some over pete/the physical world of the house while inside

That’s where the fic gets to, and honestly probably where it’ll stay, but if i was to write more i think it would sort of waver in the opposite direction time line wise, where pete holds onto the belief that tinky isn’t real for a littttle longer than he probably should, even after he kills max and eventually as doubt really creeps in tinky starts showing up more

THEN OKAY SO the one scene I really wanted to write but couldn’t fit it in so I blended parts of it up into the end of the current fic was a little precursor summoning?

So, obviously theres the real summoning, which is SO fun in this au and I’m still praying one day I’ll get enough ideas/spoons to write it, and idk where this would fit in the show timeline, maybe where if I loved you kind of fits or right before it, but essentially:

Pete comes clean to steph, in a way that fits with all the weird supernatural fuckery going on but not fully, honestly (so she doesn’t know the full extent until post-summoning), and the two of them make a plan (that steph DOES NOT LIKE) where he’ll, like, chug some coffee and purposefully trigger a low blood sugar episode so he can see tinky and ask him questions

If i had ended up writing it that would have been when he really realizes that tinky is a real thing; he probably would have pushed it a little too hard until steph gets nervous and kind of forces him swallow a glucose tablet and he snaps out of it (and tinky goes away, but just to fuck with pete and build the tension, not because he has to now)

I hadn’t been totally able to figure out how it would work out in a timeline (Which is why it never got written) but my plan was potentially to have solomon not be the one to show them the book, but instead tinky gives pete the directions, OR, if Solomon does show it to them, pete knows uncomfortably intrinsically how to do the ritual and is almost falling exactly in step with steph’s dad to find the book and on what to do

BUT YES!! Them!!! I know this was a way more general summary kind of overview, so if there were any specific scenes or characters or anything you were interested in lmk! I would love to get into it! Thank you so so much!! There's literally NEVER a time limit on any ask prompt things i reblog im always thrilled to answer! <3<3<3

#pete spankoffski #npmd #t'noy karaxis #cinderella au

[ducktracy]

how do you start a storyboard? what’s the difference between thumbnail sketches and rough sketches? i wanna learn, but i’m so lost

GOOD QUESTION I AM HAPPY YOU ASKED!! as with all of my explanations, this’ll be long winded but i hope it helps!

so YES! thumbnails are usually first! it depends on how you’re approaching the board. are you working off of a script/written list of ideas? are you just starting completely blank?

i usually try to start with some form of writing down, just because i’m flighty and don’t want to miss any potential ideas in the rush of the process. i’m going to use a personal board i started for fun as an example (and as an incentive to pick it back up, because it said i last opened the file in August, so…)

usually if i’m doing a personal board, i’ll have an outline written of the basic actions i want. nothing too thorough, just “so and so does this” “action for this panel” “so and so does that” etc. this one is timed to music, which is a special case—i REALLY didn’t want to lose the ideas i had, and trying to recite those and keep the beat of the music at the same time got overwhelming and i didn’t think a sheet of thumbnail drawings would help maintain the authenticity in time, if that makes sense. so what i did was type very vague descriptions in each panel, with the panels timed to the music so i knew what to fill in later. i’ve rehearsed the actions enough in my head that i have an idea of what i want, so when i see “camera pans past Porky” i immediately know we’re going to follow Daffy out, i can see Porky encircling him as he catches up in perspective with the camera (enter foreground, exit foreground, Daffy tracks him the whole time while he walks), etc etc I CAN SEE IT. so i have a jumping off point for my thumbs

there were some actions more reliant on the music than usual, so i scribbled them out as crudely and quickly as possible to not only not lose the idea, but see if it works. the water splashes are “animated” in comparison to everything else, but that was mainly to see how the execution would work—is the overlap cluttered or natural? will i have enough time for each beat? i can already tell that i want to move the splashes back as the camera catches up so it doesn’t tangent off screen. that’ll be all fixed later during clean-up—right now i’m just focused on getting the ideas down and sketching out what i have a clearest idea of first. that’s also why there’s a jump of white before Porky and Daffy themselves—i know i’m going to have Daffy come up to Porky from behind, but not exactly sure how i want to stage it yet. fly down in a down shot? follow Daffy from an eye level view? those aren’t pressing matters right now, and i feel i’ll get more clarity with that later once i carve everything out. as such, i just skip it and go to what i have in mind. that’s also why Porky is missing for the last few frames; i needed to envision Daffy’s acting more and see if the staging allowed room for his broad actions. i’ll squeeze Porky in later. BUT. to answer your question more directly, thumbs are usually the blueprint of the blueprint. they’re meant to be crude, ugly, scribbly, NOT DETAILED. they’re meant purely to convey ideas and thoughts, which will be expanded upon later with the roughs. some people like to draw thumbs directly into their boards—i like to open a program like MS Paint (or even just the margins in SBPro) that is as simple as possible so i can focus purely on what i need to. much of it is acting, but sometimes staging is a priority, which i’ll indicate in a box. it is never perfect/completely accurate, but that’s again what the roughs are for. here are a few examples of how i thumbnail—there isn’t a right or wrong way to do it! i just like to have it all in one place so i can check back periodically, i get cold feet if i put my thumbnails directly in every panel. feels like jumping in too quick, i like to work my way up from there

and let me be clear that you can go straight to clean up if you’re comfortable! i know and work with people who go straight from thumbs to clean, and i envy them GREATLY. i’ll sometimes have two different versions of a rough if i’m having trouble getting an idea across—i need to ruminate with the drawings a bit more and generally feel more at ease through the general progression, but it’s all a matter of how you work

and really, it’s just clean up from there! cleaning up the characters, backgrounds, adding inbetweens if necessary for the demands of the board… and after i’m done cleaning, i’ll take care of any housekeeping such as adding white mattes to the characters so they don’t blend in with the BG and checking to make sure the sizes are consistent with each other. (i really only do the latter for professional work, as my personal storyboards are a bit looser and a little more lax) this is a bit of a crude explanation because storyboarding is so subjective of a practice and everyone does it differently. ideally, initial thumbnail drawings would just BE the storyboards, with all the fancy clean up left to layout! but that’s another story… and one that’s futile to bring up seeing as these are for personal use anyway HAHA. but i just like to work my way up and sort of see where the storyboard and the characters take me

#i ironically started that storyboard as a ‘i’m just going to doodle and submit whatever the finished product was i won’t even clean it’ but #got too ambitious and would like to clean it… with 95% of it blank HAHA #i think it’s good i’ve sat on it though because i’ve done a lot of ambitious storyboards in between that time and am much more seasoned than #i was and this wasn’t even 6 months ago yet! but for example i’ve been learning FX animation and so i know there will be needlessly #informative smoke trails from the gun and water droplets not needing to be spelled out HAHAHA i’m loving learning it #anonymous #asks

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Ooh yay, another ask game! I'm very curious about blue and brown! (At least, I'm assuming you won't mind if I send you two questions in the same ask haha)

Oh you're right, I forgot to specify!! Absolutely, I don't mind receiving more questions in a single ask (it's a sure way to make me happy, actually!). Speaking of which -- thank you so much for yours!

💙 Blue: What inspires you to finish writing a fanfic, and what makes you quit writing one at any stage in the process?

I'll start with the second part of the question: I don't think I've ever decided to completely *quit* writing a fanfic, per se. I sometimes stop actively working on a WIP for a while, but I always pick it back up in the end, even if it takes me multiple months and tries. Some end up fairly different from how they were at the beginning, but they always end up somewhere, eventually.

As for the first half of the question, the answer is very similar to how I decide to write a fanfic in the first place -- I need the right moment of inspiration! Sometimes the trick is listening to certain songs while I write, sometimes I need to take a walk or read or do other stuff so my brain can work behind the scenes, sometimes I bolt up in the middle of the night and I've solved whatever issue there was that stopped me from finishing a WIP. A thing I do when nothing else works is writing it down in the worst possible way, just to fill the page, even if it sounds more like a sequence of bullet points than an actual fic -- once the page isn't blank anymore, things get easier for me :)

🤎 Brown: How did you decide to write (or why are you writing) a certain fanfic? (Asker, feel free to choose a specific story you're curious about. You can also let the answerer choose the story.)

Oh, in general, I just play around with the idea for a bit, maybe try writing down some lines / an outline in my drabbles document, and once I get the feeling that it's flowing properly it gets transferred to its own doc and becomes a full-fledged work. Very rarely, I get ideas that I don't feel like writing down at all (mostly because they're too angsty/don't vibe with the canon material lmao) and I just keep those in my head to play with when I'm in the mood for something with no stakes, apart from my own enjoyment :)

As for specific works, I'm often inspired by music (4/8 works published on my Ao3, and at least one WIP in my WIP folder, were inspired by songs). Other times I watch a scene or an episode in a show and I feel the need to delve into it a little more, or maybe I simply want to spend a little more time with it (this is what happened with sonata for trio, for example). It's more rare, but sometimes I get compelled by personal experiences (this is true for one other WIP and for A Piece Of (Cheese)Cake, at the moment -- I got the idea for the latter while baking a cake myself!).

Finally, sometimes I get inspired by mutuals' posts, as you well know! :) i hope you do believe me [...] was inspired by one of your posts! Your observations hit just right for me, and my brain provided some scenes that were simply too much fun not to write down :) You all have such wonderful ideas -- even if I don't write a fic for them, I hope you know I'm rotating them in my head at all times :')

#what usually happens when i get the idea for a fic is that some dialogue lines / scenes pop fully formed in my head #and i have to write them down before they disappear #and then i play connect the dots with them lmao. and somehow i end up with a coherent thing #(at least. i hope?) #it's a fun -- if unreliable -- process #i guess ultimately my decision criterion is: is it fun? will i have fun writing this? #and if the answer is yes then. perfect! #that 'writing it badly' method is SO helpful. it takes me so long to use it because the empty page syndrome is STRONG #but once i decide 'fuck it. im just going to write it as badly as i can' then it's ON #it unlocks a new way to proceed. it's really cool! #aaand that's it i think. thank you so very much for the ask!! i had a lot of fun with it! #writing #personal

[tailoroffates]

How to beat writer's block

Here are 9 tips to get yourself out of a nasty writer’s block (y'know, other than the obvious ADHD issues that I also struggle with).

Causes

Fear – This usually revolves around publicizing your work, being rejected by publishers, or the general criticism you can receive from your peers. Being nervous or afraid of these things is absolutely normal, but it becomes a serious issue when it prevents you from sharing your work. There are always going to be trolls, just remember when they come out the taunt you that they’re just jealous because you have potential and they’re stuck living under their toll bridges. Leave them there and pay them no mind.

Self-criticism – I’m guilty of this one so I’ll be as fair as I can without being a hypocrite about it. We are our own worst critics. It only gets harder to view ourselves as professional or avoid that nasty old imposter syndrome when we compare our own work to that of other successful authors. Stop that! Keep writing and honing your skills and one day it might be okay to compare in this way, but until then this process is just being unfair to yourself. These authors have been writing for years and practice so consistently that they’ve earned that best-seller title. You’ll get there, just try to stay out of your own head until then.

Perfectionism – This one is a little harder to get out of because we always want to do good and put our best work forward, however, this can often lead to us overthinking the structure of a single sentence and cause so much time to be wasted just trying to make it perfect. Here’s the thing though, nothing is perfect, and here’s why… No matter how well you do your work will be perceived differently by your readers individually. Everyone is different and you can’t please them all, so do your best to make sure you are happy with it and you’ll likely have others who enjoy it as well.

Pressure – This is mainly due to deadlines. Whether they’re set by teachers, publishers, heck even if they’re set by you. This one isn’t so easy to overcome as the closer you get to that deadline the more the anxieties start to set in.

Tips

Now that we’ve covered the causes, here are the 9 ways to creep your brain out of your writer's block.

Re-read – One method that helps me out of my (book-related) writer’s block is to go back a chapter or so and re-read some of my older materials. More times than not, this gets the gears going again and places my thought process back into the mindset I was in when writing it.

Take a break – Sometimes you sit there writing for so long that your brain starts to lag and your blood flow slows down, stopping you from refreshing your thought process. A good way to fix this is to take a small break and do something else. Get up, stretch, get some water, and maybe even go for a walk (I know, I know. The “walk” thought made you cringe, but it can really help). If those things sound too effortful, just switch to a different creative subject like trying a writing prompt or writing a little poem. Either way, sometimes the brain is just looking for some inspiration, and staring at the same page for hours isn’t gonna cut it.

Tunes – Every once in a while I’ll have myself a nasty struggle with trying to set a scene. I find that a cheeky way to help this issue is to make a playlist of songs that put me in the mindset of the scene I’m trying to build. For example, when I’m trying to write something sad or traumatic that happened to a character I’ll play some sorrowful tunes to get the right ambiance. The same goes for fighting scenes. I’ll play many upbeat and catchy songs to try and get a good idea of that half-cocked adrenaline feel so I can write the fighters reacting to one another effectively.

Quiet time – Sometimes too much noise or too many distractions can cut into your writing time, making your mind as blank as the page you’re sitting in front of. If so, maybe try and go somewhere quiet and avoid external distractions so you can write in peace.

Perfectionism – Yes, you read that right. We circled right back into perfectionism, but hear me out. If you’re sitting there on that same sentence because you can’t decide the best way to structure it just make a note of where you are and keep writing past it. You’ll have time to fix that when you re-read or edit your work. Wracking your brain about it now is just slowing your progression.

Outline – One thing I find incredibly helpful is to outline or write an overview of your plot line, subplots, and where you want it to end up. I know, everyone wants to be a pantser, but not everyone can do this effectively without wasting years of their time stuck on the same chapter or even worse yet, leaving so many plot holes that even an acrobat would trip over them. I spent 3 years trying to write my book and when I finally gave in and wrote up an outline I had it done in 24 weeks. Don’t be a me.

Happy habit – Another cheeky tip I used to help myself out was to create a productive habit out of writing. The rule was 1500 words a day, and eventually, it started to get easier and easier for me to get the words out of my brain and onto the page. Your word count does not need to be this high, just set a comfortable goal and get to it!

Read something – No, not your own stuff. Read something else that you find interesting. More times than not this can inspire your gears to start spinning so you can get back to writing your own works.

Play – Alright, so at this point you might have just been working for too long. Stop that! A big old work binge can be great from time to time but just remember, all work and no play made Johnny a dull boy. Don’t be Johnny! Go have some fun and get that tension out so you can be your best you! <3 Hopefully, this helps those of you out there who like me, spend way too much time just wishing the brain would shut up and write things.

#writers block #writers and poets #writer tips #write better #writerslife #writing community #amwriting #author #writing advice #writing troubles #writeblr #creative writing #writing #writing tumblr

[maybeimamuppet]

picking teams- chapter 10: cady

helloooo everyone happy wednesday!! if you follow me here welcome to the doodlebops chapter! and if you don’t then you get to find out what that means for yourself :) 

tw for 

mentioned drugging 

sexuality crisis 

mentioned outing 

drug use (just weed)

alcohol

very very mild slut shaming 

mentioned broken bones 

enjoy!!

—————

Sleep doesn’t come to Cady easily that night. 

She lies awake for hours, tossing and turning so much her muscles start to ache, and staring at the tiny pumpkin on her nightstand. 

Janis. Janis, Janis, Janis. 

Cady knows herself well enough by now to know something weird happens inside her whenever Janis is around. She just doesn’t know what it is. 

Janis is unlike anyone Cady’s met before. She seems so closed off when you first meet her, so cold, so timid. But even after just a few conversations, Cady has been allowed to peek  into the most fantastic world that is Janis Sarkisian.

Janis is loud. Not externally, or vocally. But inside. There’s a roaring passion behind everything Janis does that feels like magic to witness. Her football, her art, the way she talks to people. All of it is loud and beautiful. 

And Janis is kind. The tutoring sessions are exclusively for her benefit, but she was so quick to drop one to rescue Cady from her little cave of sadness and turn her entire outlook upside down. Like it was nothing. She didn’t mention buying Cady dinner and yummy snacks and her first ever pumpkin. 

She didn’t judge Cady’s artistic skills, or more accurately, her lack of artistic skills. She listened when Cady told her about her brother. She doesn’t ever tell Cady to stop talking about Regina, even after all their history together.

Cady’s learning and starting to understand how Janis shows she cares about people. And by the sounds of things, she cares about Cady quite a bit. 

Cady realizes after a few hours that trying to fall asleep is getting her nowhere. Her mind is just running circles around itself, making her dizzy but still not tiring itself out. 

So Cady hauls herself out of bed and over to her desk to grab a notebook and a pen. Making lists always helps her fall asleep. It lets her get her thoughts out in an objective way, and she can process whatever’s on her mind on paper instead of giving in to the roar of her thoughts. 

She’s not entirely sure what kind of list she’s going to make this time, but she just lets her hand do what it will and her brain follow along behind it. She flips to a blank page in the notebook and divides it into four sections. She labels one column ‘Janis’ and the other ‘Aaron’. One row ‘pros’ and one row ‘cons’. 

And before she knows it, her hand is flying across the page, listing everything she can possibly think of, every tiny thing that comes to mind. She watches the page slowly fill with ink as she writes and writes and writes until the tiny little muscles in her hand start to ache and the words start to bleed together both on the page and in her mind. 

It’s a mess, but so is she. 

She clicks her pen closed so it doesn’t leak into her sheets and blinks blearily at the page to see what she’s done. 

She reads through each box. Smiles as she reads over all the pros of Janis. Pros for what? What am I doing? 

She pores over it for a long time, trying to make some sense of all of this. It doesn’t work. 

Janis’ pros include things such as; quick learner, interested in my stories, caring, funny, passionate, creative, athletic, artistic, talented, cares about her family, strong, physically strong, great friend, beautiful eyes, amazing smile, beautiful hair, cool scary clothes. 

Aaron’s include… swoopy hair. Shiny eyes. Can do math. 

His cons, on the other hand. Taken. Taken by Regina. Willingly dated Regina George more than once. Not really all that good at math. 

And Janis’? Is a girl. That’s it. 

Cady feels her brow furrow as she squints at the page, before they shoot up her forehead as it all comes together. 

“Oh my god, I’m in love with Janis.” 

—————

She’s a bit dizzy over the next couple of days. The realization that she likes a girl at all, especially one she’s so close to, has rocked her entire perception of herself. 

Sunday passes in a fog, and she only really snaps out of it on Monday morning. “Cady!”

“Huh?” Cady says dazedly. “Oh, hey, Karen. How was your weekend?” 

“Good!” Karen chirps sunnily. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Cady asks as she takes the violently orange piece of paper. It says ‘Haloween Partee’ across the top in a spooky font and is entirely covered with little pumpkins and skulls and candies. “Halloween party?”

“It’s only the best day of the year, duh!” Karen says. “It’s at my house on Saturday. And you’d better wear a costume.”

“Cool,” Cady says, folding the paper up and skipping it into the side pocket of her backpack. “I’ll ask my parents.” 

She knows she’ll have to be there anyway. Something tells her this is really important to Karen, and that missing out on what’s clearly one of the biggest parties of the year wouldn’t go over very well in terms of her standing at school. She’ll come up with something to tell her parents. 

“Do I need to bring anything?” she asks. 

“Pfft, no!” Karen titters, adjusting her impossibly short skirt. “Just yourself and your costume. Pumpkin emoji.” 

“Okay! Thanks,” Cady says. She startles violently when the bell rings. “Oh, I gotta go! See you at lunch!” 

Karen looks confused by her haste to get to class on time. None of the Plastics (except Gretchen, maybe) are particularly worried about things like deadlines or schedules. 

Cady’s just desperate for something new to focus on.

—-

Her brilliant plan of using school to distract herself doesn’t… totally work. She spends most of English staring blankly out the window and totally misses the group discussion on Crime and Punishment. Janis has been helping her with it. Cady still doesn’t understand the book. Maybe that’s because Janis has been helping her. With her pretty eyes and her hair and her smell… good god, Cady.

Chemistry doesn’t go much better. Janis looks so cute with her goggles perched on her head. How did Cady never notice this before? Aaron. Right. 

A part of her feels guilty, almost. Aaron is still a good friend. She still… might like him. Or did she really like him in the first place? 

Her mind flashes back to the list she made that night. Practically all of Aaron’s good qualities were physical. Things about his body, his face. He does have that swoopy hair. Aaron is undeniably attractive. 

Janis’ list has a lot of physical qualities too, but more to do with her personality. She’s easy to be with, in spite of their circumstances being… less than ideal, to say the least. But is it really love? Really even a crush? 

She sneaks a glance across the classroom again. Janis is laughing at something her lab partner has said. She looks like an adorable little bug with the goggles over her eyes. 

Cady feels a stab of jealousy hit her completely out of nowhere. Someone else made her laugh. 

At the very least, she knows that’s not a platonic way to feel. It’s definitely a crush. 

Janis must feel Cady staring, because she suddenly looks back and meets her eyes. She gives her a little smile and a wink. Cady’s knees almost give out. Okay, yeah, I might be in love. 

“Cady,” a voice says. Cady doesn’t totally clock it. “Cady, you’re on fire.” 

“What?” Cady replies. She looks down, and sure enough, the hem of her shirt is aflame. “Oh, shit!” 

She frantically pats herself out and takes a deep breath. Her lab partner raises an eyebrow. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry. Distracted today,” she replies. “Just a bit singed.”

Her partner just nods and returns to the observation worksheet they’re meant to be filling out. Cady has some observations, alright. 

—-

“Caddy!” a voice calls as she’s leaving class. Cady turns and is surprised to see Janis. They usually avoid talking to each other in public lest Regina or one of her cronies see. “Hey, are you okay? I saw you, um…”

“Caught fire?” Cady giggles. Janis nods. “I’m fine. I just-”

Regina suddenly turns the corner into the hallway they’re in. Cady’s heart leaps into her throat. 

“Gotta go, bye.” 

Janis gets a hurt look on her face that makes Cady’s heart squeeze before she clocks the blonde coming down the hallway and rushes off in the other direction. 

Cady watches her go for a second before she runs off to her next class. She cringes when she remembers she has calculus next and has to spend a whole forty-five minutes sitting directly behind Aaron Samuels. 

She feels her phone buzz in her pocket just as she slides into her seat. She has a little tiny bit of time before class begins, so she pulls it out to check what it is. 

She smiles when she sees a text from Janis. 

janiss: are u sure ur ok ?? 

caddy: Yeah I’m fine

caddy: I’m just distracted today

janiss: what could possibly distract u enough that u didn’t notice u were on fire 

Well, shit. Cady has to think of something believable, but she can’t take too long or Janis will know it to be a lie. She obviously can’t tell the truth. Janis might like girls, but there’s no way in hell she likes Cady. Not like that. Cady has to keep this to herself and hope and pray it goes away. 

caddy: I still don’t know what to say to Aaron 

caddy: I haven’t seen him yet today

It’s believable enough. Or so she hopes. 

janiss: oh shit yeah

janiss: it’ll be fine 

janiss: u don’t have to talk to him at all yknow

caddy: I know but he’s in my math class and he’d think it’s weird if I suddenly didn’t talk to him anymore even with everything that’s happened 

janiss: oh and u have a crush on him

Eeeeeh, Cady thinks. Maybe she should go along with it. It might get Janis off her trail. Not that she was on it in the first place. 

Regardless, it doesn’t feel like the kind of conversation they should have over text.

caddy: Yeah

caddy: Lot of pressure 

janiss: don’t stress about it 

janiss: you’ll figure out the right thing to say

janiss: and if he says anything shady dame and i will kill him for u

caddy: Well now that you’ve said that you’ll be the first person the police look at 

janiss: shit ur right 

janiss: eh i’ll just pin it on regina 

caddy: A brilliant plan

janiss: thank u i know

The bell rings then, making Cady jump in her seat. She hisses as she clonks her elbow against the metal bar connecting the desk to her chair and sends tingles down her arm. Funny bones are not at all humerus. 

caddy: Can we talk later?

caddy: Revenge stuff? 

janiss: yeah

janiss: come over after 5 if u can 

caddy: Got it :) 

janiss: (: 

caddy: No.

janiss: they’re friends!

caddy: He’s an abomination 

janiss: :00

Cady doesn’t get a chance to explain everything incorrect about the backwards smiley face before Ms. Norbury comes into the room in a frenzy and begins class. Cady clicks her phone off and looks attentively at the board, pointedly ignoring Aaron’s furtive glances back at her. What am I supposed to say to him in the middle of class, anyway? 

-

Yet again, she’s stopped before she can leave the area. “Cady! Hey, wait up.” 

Cady stops in her tracks and turns around with a quiet sigh. “Hi, Aaron.”

“Hey, can we talk?” 

“Can we walk and talk? Regina’s gonna kill me if I’m late to practice again,” Cady says. Aaron nods and does his best to keep up as she starts power-walking towards the nearest stairwell. 

“I just want to apologize for how things went down at homecoming,” Aaron begins. “Regina, uh… told me you… like me. I’m sorry for, like, rubbing that in your face.”

“It’s fine,” Cady says. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Aaron says. “I hope you weren’t too upset.”

I ate an entire dairy farm’s worth of ice cream and cried for a week straight, but thanks, Cady thinks to herself. Out loud, she just says, “It’s really fine. It was just, like… I dunno. I thought you were cute, but Regina must, like, really like you. I’ll get over whatever I felt.”

“I just… hope we can still be friends?” Aaron asks. 

Depends, Cady thinks. “I think I can live with that.” 

“Cool,” Aaron chuckles. 

As they round the corner into the gym hallway, Cady inhales and says, “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure. What’s up?” 

“Did… Regina tell you? What she did to Janis?” 

“Sarkisian?” Aaron asks. Cady nods. Aaron sighs and says, “Not directly, at first. When we first got together was around the time Janis really started changing her look into… y’know. She was kinda the talk of the school again. And I heard rumors, so I asked Regina. She fessed up then.”

“So you know the truth? Not the ‘six people at her thirteenth birthday party’ story?” 

“Yeah. I know the ‘told the whole school Janis was a lesbian and got her bullied to within an inch of her life’ story,” Aaron sighs. 

“And you still took Regina back?” 

Aaron doesn’t say anything in response to that. He seems to know that no matter what he says, Cady’s going to be upset. Cady nods in confirmation. 

“Right. See you,” she says, crossing the hall and striding into the girls’ locker room before he can even think of following her. She suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about using him to get back at Regina. 

She jumps as she crashes into something as soon as she leaves the locker room. She almost falls onto her ass, but she’s saved by a soft, large hand grabbing her and keeping her upright. 

“Jesus, I’m so-” she starts to say. “Oh, Damian, hi. Sorry for… that. I didn’t see you.”

“It’s fine, Little Slice,” Damian replies. “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’ve just been kind of out of it today,” Cady says with a breathy, anxious chuckle. Damian watches in concern as she wrings her fingers together. 

“Are you okay to fly? You shouldn’t do that if you’re not in the right headspace,” he says with a furrowed brow. 

“I’ll be fine. I think it’ll help me clear my head,” Cady explains. Tumbling has always done that. It’s like being upside down just gets any worrisome thoughts to tip out of her ears. 

“Mmkay,” Damian says, eyeing her suspiciously. “Let me know if you’re not up for it.”

“I will. Thanks, Dame,” Cady says. She laughs as he ruffles her hair (as best he can with it in a ponytail) and walks off to the gym to start his warm ups. Cady sighs and heads to refill her water bottle before joining him. 

—-

Cady was almost right about practice being just the thing she’d need to clear her head. She stretches and warms up like normal. She gets time to herself to mull over what to do about the Janis Situation, as she’s now calling it in her head. 

She realizes as she goes into a bridge to stretch her back that she has a larger dilemma on her hands. What am I? 

Things in Kenya were… strange, when it came to sexuality. Animals do things quite differently. Cady’s parents did their best to be inclusive with her education, but as isolated white middle-aged people, her sex education class was… spotty, to say the least. They taught her that some people are straight, and like the opposite sex. And some people are gay, which meant they liked the same sex. And gay is okay! 

That was about the extent of that particular lesson. 

Cady knows for a fact that she really, really likes Janis Sarkisian. But she also knows for a fact that she really, really liked Aaron Samuels. There’s seven empty pints of ice cream and an unholy amount of tissues in her family’s trash bin to prove that. 

Can you be gay and straight at the same time? Is that a thing? And if so, what’s the word for it? How am I supposed to function without some kind of label for this? 

Cady takes a deep breath and decides to take her warm-up tumbling pass a bit slow today. She starts with a plain old roundoff just to make sure she’s not totally off her game and apt to injure herself. 

The motion relaxes her. She shakes out her shoulders, rolls her neck, and takes a deep breath before she takes off again. This time she adds in a few back handsprings, which calm her further. She counts off; hands, feet, hands, feet, hands, feet. Soon, the steady, constant rhythm of her being upside down and then righted once more is soon the only thing filling her mind. 

Maybe I’ll just ask Damian. 

—————

Cady carefully smooths down her skirt as she waits for Janis to open the door. Janis said after five. Cady waited until 5:01 to knock. That counts. 

“Hey, Cadd- aah!” Janis yelps, slamming the door in her face immediately after opening it. She opens it again with a hand held over her mouth and a very apologetic look in her eyes. “Nice costume.”

“Thankth,” Cady says around the creepy fake teeth in her mouth. She pulls them out when Janis shoots her a look. 

“W-why, um… why are you wearing that?” Janis asks as she motions her inside. 

“I got invited to Karen’s Halloween party this Saturday, I thought it would be a good place to kick off our revenge plans,” Cady says eagerly. “I just got it!” 

“Oh, Caddy,” Janis says pityingly. “You can’t wear that to a North Shore costume party. Especially not a Plastic costume party. You’re gonna get eaten alive.” 

“Oh,” Cady says sadly. “I thought you were supposed to dress scary on Halloween.”

“If we were any other age, you would be,” Janis sighs. She motions her further into the house and gently sits her down on the couch in the living room. Cady flops down with a huff and rips off her veil and wig. “It is pretty sick. Zombie bride?” 

“Ex-wife,” Cady mumbles miserably, fiddling with the lace on her polyester bridal gown. 

Janis laughs. “That’s great.” 

“It was,” Cady sighs. “What am I supposed to wear if not a costume?” 

“Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and nobody else can say anything,” Janis explains. She gives a strange giggle, suddenly, and says, “It’s amazing.” 

“So… I have to…”

“The hardcore girls just wear some kind of lingerie and some animal ears,” Janis says. “It sucks, but Regina would probably be super pissed if you already knew that. If she knows you got invited, she’s totally gonna be expecting you to show up in something like that. No offense. But she’ll be expecting to be able to humiliate you.”

“Lingerie?!” Cady says, jumping to her feet. “I’m barely sixteen, I don’t have any lingerie!” 

“You wanna go get some?” Janis asks with a smirk. 

“Isn’t Stevie-”

“Nah, she’s at her friend’s house for some birthday dinner thing,” Janis says. She wags her eyebrows suggestively. “Come ooooon, it’ll be fun.”

“You have a strange idea of fun, Janis Sarkisian.”

“You fucking know it, Caddy Heron.” 

—-

Cady leaves the old costume behind and follows Janis to the garage in the clothes she had on underneath. They’re thin, so she’s a bit chilly in the cold October weather, but Janis gives her a coat to borrow and she suddenly can’t feel anything but warmth. 

“You’re not wearing a coat?” Cady asks as Janis hauls her bike out of the garage. Her dad had to take their car to work today, so the bike is their only option for transportation other than walking.

“No,” Janis snorts. “It’s fifty degrees, Cads.” 

“That’s cold!” 

“Because you grew up in Kenya,” Janis retaliates. “Are you gonna be cool with taking Stevie’s bike? You’re, um… close in size.”

“I dunno how to ride a bike,” Cady says sheepishly. 

“You what?!” 

“Because I grew up in Kenya,” Cady retaliates with a giggle. “I never learned.” 

“Damn,” Janis says. “I didn’t think of that. Uh… hm. We’re gonna have to do this Stranger Things style, then.”

“I still don’t know what that is,” Cady says. Janis deflates a bit as she closes the garage and gets onto the bike. 

“I know. Hop on,” she sighs. 

“What?”

“However you fit. We gotta do it this way,” Janis explains. Cady hesitates for a second before she climbs on behind her. She’s half-sitting and half standing, clinging tightly to Janis’ waist and looking over her shoulder. “Comfy?”

“No,” Cady says. 

“Me either,” Janis says as she sets them moving. Cady squeals in fright and hides against Janis’ shoulder, but after a second she realizes it’s not so bad. 

“This is kind of relaxing,” Cady says. 

“Says you,” Janis chuckles breathlessly. “I’m the one doing all the work.” 

“It’s not my fault I didn’t grow up within a hundred miles of pavement,” Cady huffs. 

“We’ll add that to the America classes curriculum. That can be your phys ed,” Janis says. 

“Great,” Cady grumbles, resting her chin on Janis’ shoulder. It’s a bit bumpy as Janis is pedaling, but Cady isn’t phased. “Where are we going?”

“The mall,” Janis says. 

“Aren’t there gonna be people there?” Cady asks worriedly. “And isn’t it… really far away?” 

“Not this one. The one you’ve been to is further away and everyone goes to it because it’s way nicer,” Janis says. “So for something like this the one we’re going to is a win win. And it has a Victoria’s Secret, so that’s all we’ll need.” 

“Who’s Victoria?”

“You are so cute,” Janis chuckles. “You’ll see.”

“Mmkay,” Cady hums anxiously. She rests her chin on Janis’ shoulder and just enjoys the ride. 

Eventually, they pull up outside of a mall. Or what Cady thinks must be one. The one she’s used to has huge windows and is made of several buildings. This one is essentially just a brick cube. She can see why people prefer the other one. 

She follows Janis inside through the sliding glass doors. Janis looks at the names of all the shops around them. Cady isn’t totally sure what she’s looking for, but she definitely finds it. Janis grabs her hand suddenly and runs full tilt towards a store entirely too far away for Cady’s tastes. 

“Wait for me, I got little legs,” she pleads. Janis slows down a bit and looks at her. 

“Keep up, short stuff, c’mon!” 

“Hey!” Cady giggles as they finally slow to a stop. Cady looks around and sees they’re in a Halloween store. In what seems to have formerly been a pizza place, if the lingering delicious smells are anything to go by. Janis leads her to the animal costume section. 

“Whoa,” Cady says when she sees the wall covered floor to ceiling in various animal accessories. 

“Take your pick,” Janis says, giving a grand gesture with her arm and bowing sarcastically. 

Cady looks at all the animal ears. Cats, dogs, rabbits… Janis snorts when she stands on her tiptoes to grab a pair of lion ears. 

“I should’ve known.” 

“That’s not what lion ears look like,” Cady says, flicking at the flimsy felt. 

“Comes with a tail, though.” Janis says. “Kinky. This what you want?” 

“I guess so,” Cady shrugs. Janis nods and leads her over to the checkout area. She pauses and grabs a black eyeliner crayon, false eyelash glue, and some black cosmetic glitter. “What’s that for?”

“You need whiskers,” Janis says. “We can’t half-ass this.” 

“Lion whiskers aren’t glittery.”

“But glitter is sexy,” Janis says. “Or something. Just trust me.”

“Whatever you say,” Cady sighs as she puts the ears on the counter. The employee gives her a seriously judgmental look as she rings up everything. Cady’s used to being on the receiving end of looks like that and just pulls out her wallet to pay. Janis does too. “This is my costume, you’re not paying, Jay.” 

“But it’s my idea,” Janis says. “You already bought a costume.”

“My mom bought that one. And this is different,” Cady says. The employee takes her money and gives her the proper change; along with a scathing look as she takes the bag of goods and leaves. “Who would’ve thought buying animal ears was such a personal offense to some people?” 

“Can’t really say as I blame her,” Janis chuckles. “Alright, this way.” 

Cady follows Janis through the meandering halls of the mall until they’re outside a store with some very strange music playing from within. It’s all black and pink. And filled to the brim with very fancy underwear. “You knew how to get here off the top of your head?” 

Janis blushes a remarkable shade of scarlet and looks down at her boots. She squeaks a, “Yes.” before hauling Cady in by the hand and pointedly refusing to look at any of the mannequins. 

Cady does look. It’s quite disturbing, seeing these decapitated waists and torsos modeling some very skimpy undergarments. Most of them don’t look… comfortable, to say the least. How is my body supposed to be shaped? 

“You should, um… look for something yellow,” Janis says, still adamantly refusing to look at anything but the floor. “Or orange, maybe.” 

Cady nods. Most of the things around are either black, red, or white, but she does spy something yellow in a far corner and lead Janis that way by a hand. “What about this?” 

Finally, Janis does dare to peek up. She blinks in shock and says, “Oh, yeah, that’s perfect.” 

Cady grabs one that seems close enough to her size off the rack and reads the tag. “Lace… teddy?”

“That’s just the style of it,” Janis explains. “The… bodysuit type thing.”

“You know a lot about lingerie, Sarkisian.”

“Yeah, well,” Janis says airily. “Go make sure it fits.” 

Cady nods, standing on her tippy toes to see if she can spy a changing room. Janis is still a solid eight inches taller than her even with the tippy toes and points her in the right direction. 

Cady takes a deep breath as she steps into one of the empty rooms and tugs the curtain closed after her. She looks at the flimsy lace in her hands like it’s a bomb set to explode at any minute before she sets it down on the seat nearby and starts taking off her clothes. 

For Janis, she reminds herself as she pulls on the skimpy outfit. It feels much more like the kind of thing she’d happily support Karen wearing than actually wearing herself. 

That being said, she doesn’t hate how she looks when she turns around to see herself in the mirror. It’s all lace, in a ‘teddy’ style with long sleeves. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable. Cady ordinarily can’t stand things made of lace touching her skin. But this lace is soft, and it’s not so far up her ass she can almost taste it like most of the undergarments Regina has tried to buy for her. 

Wish I was wearing it for Janis under other circumstances, she thinks to herself as she turns to look at herself from the side. That’s creepy, Cady. 

It fits comfortably and makes her look hot. Cady will have to be very careful choosing her bra and panties when the day comes, but beyond that, she thinks she got quite lucky finding this. 

She takes it off and relishes in pulling all of her normal clothes back on. Janis is waiting for her when she pulls the curtain back open. She looks almost disappointed to see Cady in her clothes. Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see, you creeper. 

“Fit okay?” Janis asks after clearing her throat. 

“Yeah,” Cady responds, wringing the fragile fabric back and forth in her hands. “It’s actually kind of comfy.” 

“Good,” Janis says with a grin. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What, you don’t like seeing sexy underwear on half of a plastic woman?” Cady giggles. 

“Nah. Too much like Regina,” Janis jokes. 

The cashier of this establishment looks at them quite suspiciously as Cady sheepishly rests the yellow lace on the counter. She can’t quite bring herself to make eye contact with the older woman as she pays for the garment and stuffs it away in the other bag. It’s a perfectly innocent thing, but Cady feels… guilty, somehow. 

“I think maybe next time I’ll shop online,” Cady says as she climbs back onto the back of Janis’ bike. 

“Next time?” Janis smirks.

“Shut up,” Cady laughs, resting against her shoulder again for the ride home. 

—————

Friday comes around entirely too fast for Cady’s tastes. The party is tomorrow. She thinks she’s ready for another party, but she’s still not sure how this is going to go. 

“Hey, Cady,” Damian greets as she’s packing up after the game. 

“Hi,” Cady says with a grin. “Thanks for that save, by the way. I totally thought I was gonna break my neck.”

“So did I,” Damian chuckles. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Cady giggles. She pulls her bow out of her hair and asks, “What’s up?”

“Janis and I have a Halloween movie night every year after she takes Stevie trick or treating, do you wanna come? It’s fun, we just eat a lot of shit and scare ourselves senseless with horror movies,” Damian says. 

“I’d love to, but that sounds special to you guys,” Cady says. “I don’t wanna… crash.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Damian snorts. “Janis loves you.”

“She does?”

“Hm?” Damian hums. His eyes look a bit frantic, but he just says, “Oh, yeah. Y’know. You’re friends. We’re friends. We’re all… friends.”

“Oh,” Cady says with a nod, trying not to sound too disappointed. “I have a party tomorrow, too, though.”

“Just come by after. Then Janis and I will get our precious alone time,” Damian says, resting a dramatic hand over his heart. 

“Okay, sure,” Cady giggles. “That sounds fun.” 

“Cool. We’ll be at my house, just come by whenever,” Damian says. “And you can sleep over if you want.” 

“I will. Thanks, Dame,” Cady grins. Damian ruffles her hair and leaves her to finish packing up with a salute. 

—————

Janis invited her over to help her get ready for the party before she takes her sister out to go trick or treating. Cady dons the old zombie bride costume and tells her mom she’ll be spending the evening at Damian’s and probably spending the night. The real costume is tucked securely in her bag out of sight and not quite out of mind. 

Stevie pulls the door open when Cady knocks and tackles her in a hug. “Cady!”

“Oof. Hey, Stevie,” Cady chuckles. “Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween,” Stevie says with a smile. “Cool costume!”

“Thanks,” Cady says, pulling shyly on the tulle of her skirt. “I thought so. Where’s yours?” 

Stevie is suddenly hit dead in the face with a pile of polyester. Janis comes the rest of the way down the stairs with a, “Get dressed, nerd.” 

“Hmph,” Stevie huffs. Cady laughs when she sees the Maleficent horns Janis is wearing. 

“Nice horns.”

“Thanks,” Janis grins. “Steve said I had to wear something or I’m ‘cheating at Halloween’.” 

“They suit you,” Cady giggles. Stevie comes back in a long pink dress and a blonde wig with a crown. “Aww!” 

“I’m a goddamn princess,” Stevie says when she peeks at herself in the mirror. Janis thwacks her on the back of the head, but Cady can tell she’s trying not to laugh. 

“Yeah, but you never sleep,” she says. “Sleeping Beauty.”

“You’re supposed to dress as something you aren’t for Halloween,” Stevie hums haughtily. 

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, kid, let’s get your makeup done so I can help Caddy,” Janis says. Stevie squeals and runs up to Janis’ bedroom. Cady hesitates on the stairs. Janis notices and turns around. “You coming?” 

“Yeah,” Cady says hastily. She’s never seen Janis’ room before. 

She follows Janis and Stevie up the stairs and down a short hallway, then through a door covered with all sorts of ‘do not enter’ and ‘hazardous’ signs. 

“Wow,” Cady whispers when she sees the inside. Janis’ art covers every square inch of the walls and the ceiling. Cady can tell she’s been working on it for a long time. Years. Her style has changed a bit between pieces, and Cady can see her talent evolving as she looks at all the little doodles and murals. 

Her furniture didn’t come out unscathed, either. Cady can tell these are more recent; most probably since she ran out of room anywhere else. The sheets on her bed are plain black, but there’s a bunch of pillows patterned like pride flags at the head of it. And, of course, it’s unmade. Very Janis. 

“You like?” Janis asks as she grabs her makeup from her desk. 

“Yeah, it’s really cool,” Cady says. 

“Thanks,” Janis says with a cocky smile. Cady rolls her eyes and smiles back. “You can sit anywhere. Stevie’s shouldn’t take too long.” 

Cady sits with a slight bounce on Janis’ bed. “Oh, your bed is sooooo comfy!” 

Janis laughs as she falls backwards and sighs happily. “Yeah, I got a nice mattress for my birthday last year. Damian sleeps on it more than his own. Says it single-handedly fixed his back.”

“I can see why,” Cady says with a happy wiggle. Janis laughs again. Cady grunts as Stevie suddenly lands on the bed with a bounce and dislodges her from her comfy spot. 

“I’m ready,” she says eagerly. Janis snorts and squeezes something onto her hand. 

Cady watches as Janis gives her sister a full princess treatment. Primer, blush, mascara, eyeshadow, and a bright red lipstick. Janis acts so sarcastic with Stevie, but it’s obvious how much she actually cares about her baby sister. 

“Go see,” Janis says as she finishes with a bit of setting spray. Stevie squeals and runs over to her vanity to see herself in the mirror. Cady and Janis both jump and cover their ears when she gives an excited shriek. “Jesus Christ, Steve, volume.”

“I love it!” Stevie says. 

“Good,” Janis chuckles. “Go eat something.”

“But I gotta leave room for candy!” Stevie protests. 

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.”

“Bye!”

“Alright, Cads, your turn,” Janis says. “Do you wanna get dressed first, or…?”

“I probably should. This dress is kind of hard to… er, navigate,” Cady says. Janis laughs. 

“My bathroom is that door there, you can change in there,” she says, pointing out the door and back down the hall a ways. Cady nods and grabs her bag. 

Cady freezes for a second when she remembers that this means Janis is going to see her in lingerie. She’s still not entirely sure what to make of her feelings for the other girl, let alone in a situation like… whatever this is. 

She shakes it off and pulls the bodysuit out of her bag, along with the sweatpants she brought along to keep a bit warmer until the party. She’s already shaved practically everything below her neck in preparation, so all that’s really left to do is her makeup and hair. 

Janis looks up from her phone when she comes back, and gives her an award winning smile. She’s a bit pink, which Cady finds odd. Maybe she’s sick. 

“You, uh… you look great,” Janis says. “You, um… you ready?” 

“Your canvas awaits,” Cady says, sitting back down on Janis’ bed. Janis smiles and grabs her brushes to make Cady into a masterpiece. 

Cady jumps as Janis takes a brush to her face to apply some primer. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Cady says, shutting her eyes and letting Janis work. “I should be used to it by now.” 

“Plastic makeup attacks are a rite of passage,” Janis says. 

“Plastic cheer makeup attacks are a whole other deal,” Cady says. “I thought normal makeup was itchy.”

“I never understood why you guys do that,” Janis says as she gently dabs a bit of tinted moisturizer into Cady’s skin with a beauty blender. “Don’t you sweat all of it off?”

“Most of it,” Cady agrees with a giggle. “I don’t understand all the… what’s the… the stuff that makes you look dead?”

“Foundation?” 

“Yeah,” Cady says with a small nod. Janis laughs and gently swipes some concealer under her eyes. “I don’t get the point of doing all that. But I think the eye stuff is kind of fun.”

“It is pretty,” Janis agrees. “Must kinda blur your vision, though.”

“Oh, I almost killed myself the first game,” Cady laughs. “I couldn’t see where I was tumbling with the false eyelashes and everything. Regina only let me get away with just wearing mascara because I told her I almost broke my neck.” 

“I never quite got the hang of wearing falsies either,” Janis says. “I was kind of getting towards the tail end of my time as a Plastic by the time they started getting into shit like that.” 

“I still can’t imagine you as a Plastic,” Cady murmurs. Janis snorts derisively. 

“Yeah, neither can I.” 

Janis continues working in relative silence. Cady sits patiently. Janis is much more gentle with her than Regina or Gretchen or Karen. She even warns her before she does everything. Her hands are so soft and warm as she gently turns Cady’s face where she needs it. 

Cady pops a concerned eye open when Janis suddenly growls in frustration. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t get the angle for this right like this,” Janis says, poking her tongue out in adorable frustration. Cady can hardly bear not leaning forward and kissing her. There’s three inches between their noses at most. Janis smells like the woods and acrylic paint and Cady is very annoyed that she’s not allowed to act on her urges. She doesn’t like you like that. 

“Oh. How can… uh…” Cady asks. Janis suddenly presses closer and knocks Cady onto her back. Cady squeaks in surprise. This took a turn. 

Janis moves until she’s on her knees hovering over Cady’s stomach and can hunch in close to her face. “Is this okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” Cady squeaks, trying not to blush as she looks into the sky blue eyes mere inches from her own. “Yeah, this-this is fine.” Not fine not fine not fine not-

“Shut your eyes for me,” Janis murmurs. Cady does, and Janis takes what feels like hundreds of tiny, tickly brushes to them. She has absolutely no idea what Janis is doing, but she’s got absolutely no intention of stopping her. 

Cady almost falls asleep as Janis continues doing her makeup. The sides of her hands rest against Cady’s cheeks as she continues her eyeshadow and does her eyeliner. It’s a nice, solid feeling that gives Cady a weird sense of comfort. Janis is there. 

Cady realizes she’s had her own hands held up like she’s at gunpoint for a solid five minutes. Her arms are starting to ache, but she isn’t sure what else to do with them. She rests them on the bed over her head and stretches the slightest bit. 

“Almost done,” Janis says as she takes the eyeliner crayon they’d bought at the store. “What kind of shape is a lion’s nose?”

“Um… kind of like a really big mushroom,” Cady says. She tries her best to make a shape with her fingers. “Like…”

“Okay,” Janis chuckles gently. Cady feels her draw and fill in a roughly correct shape on her nose and draw three lines over each of her cheeks to be her whiskers. She tosses the crayon aside and grabs the eyelash glue. “This is gonna get really really itchy as the night goes on, just warning you now.”

“I’ll live,” Cady chuckles. Janis dabs it over the lines she drew and then takes a brush to add the black glitter. 

She does it in small bits so that the glue doesn’t dry before she gets a chance to add the glitter. She starts with the whiskers, and then does the nose. 

And then catastrophe strikes. 

“I have to sneeze,” Cady says suddenly. 

“Don’t,” Janis replies calmly. 

“I can’t con- I gotta sneeze!” 

“But don’t,” Janis says. Cady tries to hold it off, but Janis scrambles back with all her supplies when Cady inhales heavily. Cady sneezes violently, with just enough time to cover her nose and mouth so she doesn’t sneeze directly in Janis’ face. Janis bites her lip before she bursts out laughing. Cady can’t help but join her.

“Stop laughing, I had to sneeze!”

“I said no!”

“You can’t say no, I had to sneeze!” Cady laughs. 

“You have cute sneezes,” Janis chuckles quietly as she leans back over to finish her work. Cady can feel herself blush. She can only hope Janis doesn’t notice. 

She’s still really hoping Janis will just lean down to kiss her. 

She doesn’t. 

“That’s not heterosexual,” Stevie says suddenly. Cady and Janis both scream and jump apart. Stevie is lounging casually against the wall in her full princess getup and munching on some pizza. 

“Stevie! I’m gonna fucking kill you, I swear to god!” Janis growls. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Stevie replies easily. “I thought Cady was a zombie.”

“I have… two costumes,” Cady says. She hopes Stevie buys that as the only reason. 

“Oh. Cool.”

Cady grabs her ears from her bag and slides them onto her head. It is a cute look. With her hair color and how fluffy her curls are today she looks like she has a mane. Her lion ears just barely poke out, and the outfit does tie it all together quite nicely. She can already tell she’s going to be absolutely freezing, but it’ll be worth it. For Janis. 

She turns around with her hands held to her sides for Janis to assess. Janis smiles at her and says, “Perfect.”

“I’m cold already,” Cady says. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t look too warm,” Janis chuckles, almost sadly. “At least you aren’t coming trick or treating with us. Think you’d be a Caddy-lion-popsicle by the end.” 

“I kinda wish I was,” Cady mumbles, fiddling with the drawstring on her pants. 

“Maybe next year,” Janis says, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” Cady says, taking a deep breath to try to settle her nerves. She stuffs the zombie bride costume into her bag and zips it shut with a, “Have fun.” 

“You too,” Janis says, looking at her in a way Cady can’t quite describe. Concern? Affection? Both? Both. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” Cady says as Janis leads her back down the stairs and they’re face to face just inside the front door. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Janis asks suddenly, like she’s been holding the words back for ages and just can’t do it anymore. Cady looks up at her. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says calmingly. “Karen promised me Shane wouldn’t be there. She says she doesn’t like him either.”

“Okay,” Janis says, visibly relaxing a bit. “You can, like… call me if something happens. Just… you know, just in case. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks,” Cady says with a smile. “I’m not gonna drink or anything this time, so… I think I’ll be alright.” 

“Good,” Janis says. “But you should still be careful. Get your own drinks, even if they aren’t booze. And keep them covered and watch them and stuff. Shane isn’t the only asshole around. Just… be careful.” 

“I will,” Cady promises, taking and squeezing her hand. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry. But I’ll call you if something happens, okay?” 

“Okay,” Janis says. “Have fun.”

“You too,” Cady says. 

“Stevie, Caddy’s leaving, time to go!” Janis calls to her sister in the kitchen. Stevie comes running as quickly as she can in her fluffy dress to hug her goodbye. 

“Bye, Steve,” Cady says as she squeezes the little girl. “I’ll see you soon. Save me some candy.” 

Janis snorts. “Fat chance of that.” 

“I will,” Stevie says with a smile, seemingly just to spite her sister. “Bye Cady!”

“Bye!” Cady says as she shuts the door and starts the walk to Karen’s house. She’s suddenly wondering if she shouldn’t cancel at the last minute and just spend the evening with Janis and Stevie, but she’s already bought her costume. No sense wasting it now. 

—-

“Hey, Cady!” Karen greets brightly. Wow. Janis was right. 

Karen’s in some kind of lingerie too, in a style Cady doesn’t know the name of with a matching bra and panty set beneath it. “Hi. Nice costume. What… um… what is it?” 

“I’m a mouse, duh,” Karen says. Cady tilts her head in confusion. She squints a bit, and can… almost see a mouse. Karen seems to notice the confusion on her face and pats the top of her head. “Ohhh. I lost my ears.”

“Oh,” Cady says. “I’ll help you look. Is there somewhere I can put my stuff? I don’t, um… really want people getting into it.” 

“You can put it in my room, I always lock my door now,” Karen says. She seems a bit haunted as she explains. What’s happened in her room? “This way.”

Karen’s house isn’t anywhere near as big as Regina’s or even Janis’, but it’s still nice. She knows from talking to her that Karen has a single father too. Whatever he does for a living must pay pretty well. Either that, or he gets a hell of an alimony payment from Karen’s mother. 

Karen stops outside a door and pulls a key out of her bra to unlock it. Cady steps in, pulls her phone and tail out of her bag and her sweatpants off, stuffs the pants into her bag, and returns to her friend. Karen re-locks the door after her and returns the key to its place. 

“Where do you think your ears are?” Cady asks as she follows her friend back downstairs. 

“I dunno, I had them a few minutes ago,” Karen hums. “I was decorating the kitchen. And the bathroom. And the living room. And the backyard-”

“Let’s just check everywhere,” Cady interrupts. “You check the bathroom, I’ll look in the kitchen.” 

Cady doesn’t actually know where the kitchen is, but finding it can’t be too hard. Karen bounces her way off in the direction of the bathroom. Cady turns the other way and starts looking for the kitchen. 

Karen’s kitchen is huge. And, to Cady’s delight, full of food for the partiers. She sneaks a couple carrots from the veggie platter laid out on the counter and nibbles on them while she pokes around on the hunt for Karen’s mouse ears. 

She checks everywhere that makes sense for them to be. Nothing. Then Cady remembers that Karen herself seldom makes sense. Where would be a strange place for them to be? 

Cady checks the oven, hoping beyond hope that they aren’t there. Luckily, the only thing inside are some ashes and old grease. She double checks inside all the cabinets. Nothing there either. The potted plant on the windowsill has nothing for her other than some beautiful leaves. 

Last but not least, Cady opens the fridge. And, sure enough, the ears are there, wrapped around a very large bottle of vodka. She grabs them and closes the doors again, calling, “Karen, I found them!” 

Karen comes clicking into the room with a smile on her face. “Oh, hey! Thanks, where were they?”

“In the fridge,” Cady giggles. 

“Again?” Karen asks herself in exasperation. “Anyway, thanks.”

“No problem,” Cady says. “Oh, hey, could you help me with my tail?” 

Karen nods, so Cady hands it to her and turns around. Karen helpfully pins it to the back of her costume. Cady knows it’s entirely in the wrong place. It’s supposed to get people looking at your ass, not to be anatomically correct, she reminds herself. 

“What are you?” Karen asks once Cady’s tail is secure. 

“A lion,” Cady sighs, fluffing out her hair to look even more mane-like. 

“Aww, we’re both animals!” Karen says. “Mouse emoji. Okay, everything should be ready now.”

“It looks great,” Cady says. Karen really went all out with the decorations. There’s even a giant skeleton in the backyard, looming ominously over the pool it’s entirely too cold out to use. 

“Thanks!” Karen chirps. Cady smiles and nods. Karen heads to go let the guests in as they start arriving. Cady decides the veggie tray is going to be her companion for this party. 

She and Janis haven’t done too much planning in terms of things they can actually do to get their revenge party kicked off, so Cady’s plan for tonight is just to get whatever she can in terms of useful information. Maybe Gretchen or Aaron will pick tonight to get a little more tipsy than they should. Cady will use anything to her advantage. 

She’s nibbling on a celery stick and trying to ignore the already unruly people slowly filling the house around her when she hears Regina talking to Karen. “You invited Cady? God, we don’t have to take her everywhere, you know.”

“She’s our friend,” Karen says in confusion. Cady can practically hear Regina rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

“Whatever,” she says. 

Cady turns around and decides she should go talk to some people. Wow, did we all dress as animals? 

Regina is dressed as what Cady can only assume is a rabbit. The shapes are all there, but for whatever reason, the costume is bright red with black and white accents. Aaron, ever the dutiful boyfriend, stands at her side in a suit with a cape and a top hat. The costumes don’t quite go together, but it’s obvious they’re meant to be a duo somehow. They have only been back together for a two weeks. They must’ve had to pull whatever this is together quite quickly. 

“Hey!” Cady greets brightly, pretending as best she can that she hasn’t just overheard their conversation. “You guys look great!” 

“Thanks,” Regina hums, looking Cady up and down. 

“So do you,” Aaron says, surreptitiously nudging Regina with his elbow. “Lion?”

“Yeah,” Cady says sheepishly, fidgeting with the end of one of her sleeves. “What are you guys?” 

“A magician and a rabbit,” Regina sighs. The magician was definitely Aaron’s last minute idea, then. 

“Cool!” Cady says. Aaron shoots her a sweet, dorky smile that would’ve made Cady completely weak in the knees a month ago. Now, she just smiles back. Handsome, but not for me. 

-

The party passes without incident. Gretchen did indeed get a little bit more drunk than Cady thinks she meant to, so Cady stuck by her side through most of it. Both to see what details she’d let slip that she and Janis could use and to make sure nobody tried anything on her friend. 

Luckily, nothing of the latter and plenty of the former. None of it is really anything they can act on, but the fact that Gretchen so easily aired Regina’s dirty laundry gives Cady a lot of hope as to how this will all turn out. 

Cady bounces around for a while, sipping carefully at a soda and people watching. She’s present enough this time to learn how funny it is to watch drunk people try to dance. So. Many. Wipeouts. 

She decides to leave when her heart starts beating in time with the music and she can feel her sinuses rattling with the bass. She’s overwhelmed, and if she stays too much longer, it’s a slippery slope to a complete teary meltdown.��

She hugs a quite intoxicated Karen goodbye and thanks her for the invite before she leaves the house and starts the trek to Damian’s house. 

The cool night air helps calm her down. It shocks her back into her body enough that she can take some deep breaths and listen to the quiet, peaceful sounds of the night falling around her. Distant birds; the low, even thrum of cars a few streets over; the hum of the streetlights above her head. Much better.

—-

Cady pulls off her ears and massages behind her temples as she rings Damian’s doorbell. She hears what sounds like a distant scream, and then footsteps. 

Damian pulls the door open with a hand held over his heart and his breathing noticeably heavy. “Hey, Cads.”

“Hi,” Cady says. She tilts her head in concern and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Damian chuckles. “Scary movie. We weren’t expecting the doorbell.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Cady says sheepishly. 

“It’s fine. Come on,” Damian says. Cady follows him inside. 

“Your house is nice,” she says politely. 

“Thank you! Welcome to Casa Hubbard,” Damian chuckles. “My mom’s at work, so it’s just us, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cady says. “Where does she work?”

“She’s a nurse, she works at the hospital nearby,” Damian says. 

“Oh.” Cady says. “That’s neat.” 

“Yeah,” Damian says, seeming to realize the reason behind her awkward response. “You’ll get to meet her at some point, I’m sure. Anyway. Down here.” 

Cady follows him down the stairs to the basement. There’s an interesting smell, loads of food, and Janis sprawled on a very small couch staring languidly at the TV Damian left playing. Janis looks at them upside down off the arm of the sofa when she hears their footsteps on the stairs, and she gets a goofy smile on her face when she sees Cady. 

“Caddy!” she says happily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Cady says. 

“How was the paaaaaaaaarty?” 

“Um… fine,” Cady says in confusion. 

“That’s goooood.” Janis hums. She seems content with that, and the conversation ends there. 

“Cool outfit,” Damian says. “I like the makeup.”

“Thanks,” Cady grins. “Janis did it.”

“Did she now?” Damian hums, poking his tongue into his cheek. “Interesting. Are you, um… gonna… sleep in that?”

“No, I- shit!” Cady says. “I… packed clothes but I left them at Karen’s place.” 

“Do you wanna go home and grab some?”

“No, my parents are there, they’ll get suspicious. They don’t know I was at a party, they think I came straight here,” Cady says. “I guess I am sleeping like this.”

“Janis keeps some pajamas here, you can borrow hers,” Damian says. “She’s closer to your size than me.” 

“But what about her?” 

“What about who?” Janis pipes up from the couch. 

“You,” Cady says. Janis frowns in confusion. 

“What about what about me?” 

“Caddy forgot her pajamas at Karen’s. Can she borrow yours?” Damian asks.

“Can I borrow yours?” Janis retaliates. 

“No, you’re icky,” Damian says sarcastically. “Yes. Will you go get them?”

“Why meeeee?” Janis whines. 

“Because I got Caddy. Your turn, bitch,” Damian says, flopping down on the couch next to her. 

“Hmph,” Janis grumbles as she walks by Cady and slugs her way up the stairs. Cady sheepishly goes to sit next to her friend. 

“What movie is this?” 

“Children of the Corn,” Damian says. “It’s really dumb, but we watch it every year.” 

“Cool,” Cady grins. She cuddles into his side and watches the end of the movie with him. “Hey, can I ask you something? Something kind of… personal?” 

Damian looks at her with a confused frown. “Sure.” 

“How did you know you were gay?” Cady asks quietly. 

“Oh. Um…”

“You don’t have to answer if it’s, like, uncomfy, or anything,” Cady says hastily. “I just-”

“Little Slice, it’s fine,” Damian chuckles. “I kind of… always knew, I guess. I was kind of stereotypically fruity as a kid. I liked princesses and dolls better than superheroes and trucks. And then when I got older all the other guys talked about how hot all the girls were and stuff, but I never really felt anything other than wanting to be friends with a few. And then I met a boy at arts camp one summer and was absolutely obsessed with him. Like, too… too obsessed.” He chuckles nervously. “But that was my first real crush. And I realized I had felt that way about a few boys before, and there have been more since. And it’s always been guys, never girls.”

“Oh,” Cady says softly, picking at her chipping nail polish. 

“Why?” Damian asks, gently squeezing her hand. 

“I… kind of like a girl,” Cady mumbles. Damian squeals sharply into her ear and takes both her hands in his large ones. 

“Ooh! Tell me everything,” he says eagerly. 

“I think I’ve really liked her for a while,” Cady begins anxiously. She is right upstairs, after all. “But I just realized it, like, a week ago. And I already can’t stand it. I wasn’t sure at first, because I also really liked Aaron, and I’ve never had a crush on a girl before. But I, like, really wanna kiss her. And I don’t think that’s normal.” 

“Aww,” Damian coos. “My baby queer.” 

“That’s what I was gonna ask you about,” Cady says sheepishly. “You seem, um… knowledgeable. About… gay stuff. I don’t know anything, and it’s really scary. Not being able to explain who I am, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Damian says comfortingly. “I am quite knowledgeable. Can you tell me a little bit more and I’ll see if I can tell you anything that might fit?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Cady says. Damian lets go of her hands and allows her to wipe the sweat off on the cushion behind her. He leans against the back of his couch on his hand while Cady stares at her bare legs and fidgets with her fingers. “I just, like… in Kenya I was almost never around other people. There were a few I got crushes on when I was little and stuff. And they were always… guys. But since I realized I really like… this girl, I’ve been thinking about it more, and I kind of- this sounds weird, but I really relate to the animals? Like, a lot of them will just mate with… anything. Male, female, a rock. They just want the pleasure of the interaction. And I kind of… want that with romance. I don’t really care who they are, I just… want a person, you know?” 

“You might be pan,” Damian says when she finishes. 

“Like… for cooking?” Cady asks in confusion. 

“No,” Damian laughs. “Pansexual. Or panromantic, for you. The sexual attraction is a whole other thing. Unless you feel basically the same about sex.”

“I think I do, I dunno,” Cady says. “I feel a little bit less for guys after, uh… Shane. But I think it’s basically the same.” 

“Pan just means that you’re attracted to someone regardless of their gender, or what body they’re in, basically,” Damian explains. “Into the wine, not the label, and all that.”

“What?”

“You haven’t seen Schitt’s Creek?” Damian gasps. “Oh, honey.”

“Janis says she’s gonna show me everything I need to watch. She calls it my America classes,” Cady explains with a fond smile. 

“Speak of the devil,” Damian says as Janis comes back down the stairs clad in some of Damian’s sweats. She tosses a pile of fabric at Cady and another at Damian. 

“Bitch!” she scoffs. 

“You literally have horns!” Damian retaliates. “Don’t bitch me, bitch.” 

“I’ll bitch you all I want, bitch,” Janis says. “Caddy, this is a bathroom if you wanna change.” 

“Thanks,” Cady says. She stands and pads over to the door Janis pointed to, shutting and locking it after herself. She pulls off the bodysuit and her tail and tugs on the cozy sweatpants and band t-shirt, both worn soft by years of wear. 

She closes the lid to the toilet as quietly as she can and sits down on it. She pulls out her phone and opens Google, typing pansexual definition into the search bar. Her thumb hovers anxiously over the blue button for a second before she hits go.

Pansexuality is sexual, romantic, or emotional attraction towards people regardless of their sex or gender identity. Pansexual people may refer to themselves ...

Cady hits the read more button and reads through the entire Wikipedia page. The further into it she gets, the more correct it sounds. She sniffs and wipes tears brimming in her eyes. It’s me. 

She stares at the flag longer than she probably should. She realizes with a start that she’s been in the bathroom for quite a while, and her friends are probably starting to get worried. 

Sheepishly, Cady unlocks the door and heads back out to them. “Hi.”

“Hey, Little Slice,” Damian greets brightly. “You didn’t take your makeup off?”

Cady pats her face, and she can feel the scratch of the glitter on her ‘whiskers’ beneath the pads of her fingers. “Oh, oops. Janis, do you have any makeup remover?”

“No,” Janis replies.

“I do,” Damian says at the same time. “In the medicine cabinet.”

“Thanks,” Cady says. She turns back around to go find it. Janis apparently does the same. Cady screams as a pale hand suddenly reaches over her shoulder to open the cabinet in the bathroom for her. 

“Sorry,” Janis chuckles gently. 

“Don’t do that,” Cady giggles anxiously, a hand held over her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart. “What are you doing?”

“I put the makeup on you, I think it’s only fair I help you get it off,” Janis responds. “And Damian will actually slaughter me if I let you do it wrong and damage your precious little face.”

“Oh,” Cady says breathlessly. “Okay.” 

“Look at me,” Janis instructs. Cady does, turning around and looking up at her friend’s face. Up close, she can see how red Janis’ eyes are, and she frowns.

“Have you been crying? Your eyes are red,” Cady asks softly. “Are you okay?”

“Caddy,” Janis responds quietly, gently cupping Cady’s face in her warm hands. Cady has to actively resist leaning into them. “I’m really high.”

“Ohhh,” Cady says. “That’s what the smell is.”

“Yeah,” Janis snorts. “Damian and I added weed to our Halloween movie night a few years ago. We just get stoned, eat, and watch random shit.” 

“Sounds fun,” Cady says. 

“It is,” Janis says. She soaks a few cotton pads in something and hands Cady one. “Hold that on your nose, it’ll dissolve the glue holding the glitter on.” 

Cady does, and Janis holds the other two pads to each of her cheeks. Cady tries not to stare into Janis’ eyes, but she just has to. The bloodshot look somehow just makes the sky blue of her irises pop even more than they normally do. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Why the hell would you say that?! she asks herself frantically. Now she’s gonna know-

“Thanks,” Janis whispers. “So are yours.” 

Cady continues looking over every little detail of her friend’s face, trying to memorize what she can. Who knows when she’ll be this close to Janis next? 

“That should be good,” Janis murmurs after about a minute. Cady pulls the pad off her nose and looks to Janis for further instruction. Janis gently rubs the pads she had held against her cheeks around to remove the glitter and the eyeliner whiskers as much as she can. Cady scrunches up her face as she does the same to her nose.

“Tickles,” she murmurs. 

“You’re cute,” Janis whispers as she soaks another two pads in something else. “This is for your eye makeup.”

Cady takes them and closes her eyes, pressing the pads to her eyelids to soak off the makeup there. “Oh, this feels nice.”

“Damian has all the good shit. I would’ve shredded my skin learning to do my makeup if I didn’t have him,” Janis chuckles. 

“How long have you guys known each other?” Cady asks, looking in what she hopes is Janis’ direction with the cotton pads still pressed to her eyes.

“First grade,” Janis responds. “You can rub those around now.” Cady does. “I broke his nose.”

“Really?” Cady asks with a shocked laugh as she swipes her eye makeup off. 

“Yeah,” Janis chuckles. She tosses the pads into the garbage can and scoops out a small bit of something from a blue tub. She rests it on Cady’s fingers. “Rub this in like you’re washing your face. It’s a cleansing oil.” 

Cady does, looking in the mirror to see where she needs to apply it. She looks a bit like a raccoon with her eyeliner and mascara still smeared around her eyes, but she’s definitely back on her way to Cady and not a lion. “How did you break his nose?”

“Punched him,” Janis responds simply. “He said girls couldn’t punch. I proved him wrong.”

“And he still wanted to be your friend?”

“Oh, yeah, it was his idea,” Janis chuckles. “We got sent to the office together and got to talking. He said I punched good and stood up for me when my dad came to pick me up. And then we sat next to each other the next day and that was that. He’s been my best friend ever since.”

“That’s… weirdly really adorable,” Cady chuckles as she finishes massaging the oil all over her face. “Now what?”

“Get it wet but don’t rinse it off,” Janis instructs, leaning against the wall behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror. Cady shoots her a confused look. “Just splash a little water on your face.”

Cady does. Janis tells her to rub it in again, so Cady listens. She doesn’t totally understand how this works, but it feels nice, so she doesn’t say anything about it. 

Janis grabs a bottle of something else while Cady rinses the cleansing oil off her face and gives her a pump of it. Cady looks at her expectantly. 

“Cleanser,” Janis sighs, clearly having been put through this process by Damian countless times before. “Same thing.” 

Cady finishes washing her face like normal. Janis grabs what Cady hopes are the last products while she pats her face dry with a cushy towel. 

“Close your eyes,” Janis instructs as she shakes a spray bottle of… something. “And hold your breath.” 

Cady listens and winces as Janis spritzes her with whatever it is. “Ooh. That smells nice.” 

“Yeah, I dunno what it is,” Janis replies with a chuckle. 

“You don’t even know what it is? And you put it on my face?” Cady giggles. 

“It’s… some kind of toner, I don’t know. You can trust Damian if you don’t trust me,” Janis replies as she gently taps something else over her skin and starts massaging it in. 

“I do trust you,” Cady says softly, closing her eyes contently and relishing in the feel of Janis’ soft hands gently rubbing in the product. “Your hands are soft.” 

“Thanks,” Janis whispers. She gently strokes the pad of her thumb up and down the bridge of Cady’s nose to get some she’d missed. Cady almost falls asleep standing up. “There.” 

“Thanks,” Cady says, grinning up at her friend. She gets a burst of courage upon looking into Janis’ eyes once more and leans in to wrap her in a tight hug. Janis seems surprised and tenses briefly underneath her, but she quickly wraps her arms around Cady’s shoulders and squishes her close. She rests her cheek on top of Cady’s head and absentmindedly rubs her thumb back and forth over her shoulder. 

Cady wants to stay here forever. 

To keep things as platonic as she can, she pulls back after a minute at most and gives Janis a friendly smile before they head back out to join Damian. 

“Oh my god, there you are!” he says dramatically. He’s clearly also partaken in the weed while they’ve been getting Cady taken care of. “You guys took foreveeeeer.”

“You’re the one who insisted on doing it properly,” Janis responds. “Gimme.” 

Damian passes her the… Cady isn’t sure of the term, but whatever it is they’re smoking. Janis inhales some and settles in on the couch. Damian asks, “Did you moisturize her?” 

“Yes,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. 

“But did you use the ton-”

“Yes! I did everything you told me to,” Janis says. 

“But did you?”

“She did,” Cady giggles. “I promise.”

“Mmkay,” Damian hums suspiciously. “Ooh, you’re glowing! Look at you!” 

“Thanks,” Cady says as she sits down in between them. There’s not much room on the couch; it’s really more of a loveseat at best. She winds up pressed quite heavily against Janis’ side. “What are we watching?” 

“What do you want to watch?” Damian responds, languidly grabbing the remote and flicking through the Halloween section of some various streaming services. 

“I dunno,” Cady says. “I’m not really a scary movie person.”

“Hmm,” Damian hums pensively. 

“Caddy, do you want some?” Janis asks from her other side. Cady looks to see her offering her the… whatever it’s called.

“Oh, um… no thank you,” Cady says. Janis nods and takes it back for herself. 

“Up to you,” she says. That simple sentence fills Cady with such relief. She smiles faintly and leans in the slightest little bit closer. 

Damian suddenly gives a delighted gasp as he finds something. Cady looks at him. “Is this gonna be scary?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Damian says. “Just not in the way you’re expecting.” 

Cady frowns in confusion and looks at the screen. Do scary movies usually have theme music? 

“Is this a horror movie?” Janis stage whispers. 

“No, it’s the DoodleBops,” Damian whispers back.

“Shit,” Janis replies. “We watched this as kids?”

“I dunno who this we is, but apparently some sadder people out there have, yes.”

Cady quickly learns what Damian meant. Janis and Damian are both staring blankly at the screen. Cady is too, but she’s confused by the colorful figures dancing and singing at her on the screen. “What is this?” 

“I don’t fucking know,” Janis responds, sounding absolutely shaken to the core. 

“It’s amazing,” Damian responds. He’s on the opposite end of the spectrum, sounding absolutely delighted by what he’s seeing and actually bopping his head a little bit to the musical numbers. 

Cady isn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. It doesn’t seem like something Janis and Damian would watch ordinarily. Must be the drugs. 

Cady’s half wondering if she shouldn’t try some just to get the full experience when Janis sags a little further into the couch, almost like she’s becoming one with it, and groans, “Where’s your dooooog?” 

“Oh, dog!” Damian exclaims in horror, doing exactly the opposite as he leaps off the couch and goes running to the door. 

Janis takes advantage of his absence to reach across Cady and snatch the remote to turn the strange show off. “That’s enough of that.” 

“He has a dog?” Cady asks happily. 

“Yeah,” Janis says, resting her clearly too-heavy head on Cady’s shoulder and browsing through Netflix. “Golden lab.” 

Cady squeals and sits a little more upright. Janis whines quietly and shifts with her. Cady’s almost shaking in her excitement, hoping the dog makes an appearance with Damian when he returns. 

She feels like all of her dreams have come true when the puppy comes barreling down the stairs and directly up to Cady, its entire back half wiggling in delight as it sniffs happily at the new human. 

“Hi!” Cady says just as happily as she offers her hands to sniff before she rubs the pup behind the ears. 

“Hey Stanley,” Janis greets, wrapping her entire hand gently around the dog’s snout and wiggling its head back and forth. The dog is completely unphased and hops up next to Cady to take Damian’s place. 

“What a good boy,” Cady coos as the dog rolls over to show off its tummy for some belly rubs. Cady happily obliges. 

“No, she’s a girl,” Janis chuckles. “We found her on the sidewalk when we were in sixth grade and Dame named her Stanley. And then we took her to the vet to get checked out and they told us she’s a girl. But Stanley stuck.” 

“What a good girl,” Cady amends. “Stanley.” 

“Stanley,” Damian groans. “Get down, you’re in my spot.” 

“But I love her,” Cady pouts, gently hugging the puppy. Stanley wags her tail happily to show her agreement. 

“This dog is never not in the way,” Damian sighs. He carefully lifts the dog’s backside and sits down. It’s quite crowded now with three people and a dog, but Cady is certainly not complaining. “Hey, what happened to the DoodleBops?”

“Something I cannot fathom,” Janis mutters to herself. “Caddy hasn’t seen Stranger Things.”

“Oh,” Damian says, suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation. Cady still doesn’t totally get it, but she watches in excitement as the opening music starts playing. 

“Aww,” Cady says when the kids make their first appearance. “They’re so cute!” 

“Just wait,” Janis says ominously. Cady does. She almost cries when Will goes missing, and finds herself subconsciously leaning closer to Janis for comfort from the sadness and spooks. 

She eventually ends up on the ground with Stanley; both of them having felt a bit suffocated on the loveseat with all four of them. Janis shifts to lie down as much as she can, her head in Damian’s lap and her arm dangling off the side of the couch, resting on Cady’s shoulder. Cady leans against it and smiles as Janis uses it to hug her and play with her hair. 

Stanley rests her head on Cady’s lap and drifts off for a nap. Cady continues watching the show contently and gently pets the pup from time to time. Janis does the same to Cady. 

Cady hasn’t felt this safe since she moved to America. Hasn’t felt so… home. Like she knows she’s supposed to be where she is. Like she’s… found where she belongs. 

—-

“I’m goin’ to bed,” Janis groans after a while, stretching and sitting upright. 

“Goodnight,” Cady says gently. Janis grins at her with her adorable sleepy face and Cady only shrieks internally for thirty seconds. She watches as Janis pads over to the shelf in the corner and tugs down a sleeping bag before she unrolls it and climbs in. 

Stanley apparently decides to join her. Cady pouts as she stretches and yawns before trotting over and curling up next to Janis. Janis maneuvers the sleeping bag enough that she’s effectively spooning the dog and shuts her eyes. 

Cady climbs back up next to Damian and leans against his arm. Damian turns the volume of the TV down so he and Cady can continue watching without disturbing Janis. 

They don’t say anything for a few episodes. Damian seems perfectly content to cuddle with Cady and watch the show. Cady is a little more antsy, shifting positions every few minutes and trying to keep from looking over at Janis. 

She looks so peaceful when she’s asleep. Her hair is fanned out around her like a half-blonde halo. She groans quietly, making Cady worried they’ve woken her up, but Janis just rolls onto her back and shifts her arms to rest above her head ballet dancer style. So cute. 

Apparently Damian notices that Cady hasn’t been successful in her don’t look at Janis mission, because he turns the TV down a little bit more and quietly asks, “Is it her?” 

“What?” Cady asks in shock. Damian looks at her with a knowing look in his eye. 

“Your girl crush. Is it Janis?” Damian asks. Shit. He’ll know if Cady lies, but he’s also Janis’ lifelong best friend. Would he tell her if I said yes? What do I do? “I won’t tell her either way.” 

“You won’t?” Cady asks.

“No way,” Damian scoffs dramatically. “That’s your job. You get to do that if and when you think you’re ready.” 

“…Yeah, it is,” Cady mumbles sheepishly. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell her.” 

“Why not?”

“There’s no way she likes me back,” Cady says sadly. “And I don’t… want her to think I’m faking. Like I’m so desperate that I fell for the first girl who likes girls I’ve ever met, you know?” 

“She wouldn’t,” Damian says soothingly. “Every gay person has to start somewhere. Janis just happens to also be the first one you met. You come from different circumstances than most of us do, that’s not your fault. She’d understand.” 

“She still doesn’t like me back,” Cady mumbles. 

“Do you know that for sure?” Damian asks. 

“Um… no, I guess not,” Cady says in confusion. “But she hasn’t, like… shown any signs of being interested in me.” 

“That you’ve noticed,” Damian says. “Janis doesn’t… show affection easily. Not the way most people do. She has to do a lot more to keep herself safe than she should. It’s really hard for her to open up.” 

Why is he telling me this? Cady asks herself. “You really think I have a shot with her?”

“That I can’t say,” Damian says. “But you both deserve to be happy. Whether that’s with or without the other. And this seems like it’s weighing on you a lot already.” 

“It is,” Cady agrees with a sigh. “You think I should tell her?” 

“Do you want this to go somewhere?”

“Yes,” Cady whispers. “I do.” 

“Then yes. I think you should tell her,” Damian says. Cady mulls this over. 

“I… I’ll think about it,” she says after a while. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Merida. Can we sleep now?” Damian asks. 

“Yeah,” Cady giggles. “I’m sleepy.” 

“Me too,” Damian says. “Let me get you all set up.”

“I can do it,” Cady says. 

“Nonsense. It’s your first sleepover with us, you gotta get the special treatment so you stick around,” Damian says. He grabs another sleeping bag off the shelf Janis got hers from and unrolls it on the ground. Cady isn’t sure how to react when she sees just how close to Janis he placed it. She stands and pads over to him sheepishly as he grabs a pillow for her. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Damian says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Cady echoes, eagerly accepting the hug he offers and giving her friend a good squeeze. He somehow manages to squish his entire body into a comfortable position on the loveseat and drift off within a few minutes. Good for him. 

Cady carefully climbs into her sleeping bag. She apparently wasn’t careful enough, because when she settles on the pillow, Janis is awake and staring at her. 

“Hi,” Cady whispers. 

“Hi,” Janis whispers back, her voice adorably rough with sleep. 

“Sorry I woke you up.” 

“It’s okay,” Janis replies. “You have fun?” 

“Yeah,” Cady says, instantly and honestly. “Loads.” 

“Good,” Janis grins. Cady smiles back and tugs the sleeping bag a little higher around her chin. Janis’ eyes rove over her face in the darkness. What she’s looking at or looking for, Cady can’t be sure. She’s panicking too hard to question her about it. 

She panics harder when she suddenly remembers she’s in Janis’ pajamas, too. It’s so oddly domestic in a way Cady wasn’t expecting. Sleeping next to her crush, wearing her things. Cady can almost pretend they’re falling asleep together in a real bed, tangled together. That Stanley, sound asleep at their feet, is a dog of their own. That the sleeping bags aren’t prisons separating them and they’re freely allowed to tangle together and cuddle each other close. 

But for now, Cady has to be content with her fleecy warm sleeping bag and having friendly boundaries with her crush. She takes a deep breath, relishing in the faint smell of Janis coming off the pajama shirt she’s wearing, and murmurs a, “Goodnight, Jay.” 

“G’night, Caddy,” Janis whispers back. 

Neither of them roll over, and they drift off to sleep face to face. 

—————

thanks for reading!! hope you enjoyed!!

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #karen smith #gretchen wieners #aaron samuels #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #picking teams

[platoniclokiimagines]

Are you willing to write about Loki comforting the reader with their parental issues? Like a dad with too big expectations? (Totally not projecting/sarcasm) it's okay if you don't feel comfortable with this. Thank you if you can.

A/N: No, I didn’t also self-project into this prompt, I don’t know WHAT you mean. I hope this helps you feel a little better, friend. Also, enjoy Loki joking about their past decisions.

WC: 1209

Rating: G

TW: None

You heaved a sigh as you flopped face down onto the couch, burying your face into a pillow and screaming.

You’d assumed you were alone in the room, until, when you finally ran out of breath to scream and sat up, you saw Loki watching you from across the room, seated in an armchair and only their eyes visible over the top of their book.

“Feel better?”

You huffed out a laugh, because if you didn’t, you were going to start crying. “Not really, but it felt kinda good.”

Loki said nothing as they placed the bookmark back into their book and closed it, setting it down on the coffee table in front of them as they looked at you. “…is it something you want to talk about?”

You made a grumpy little sound as you leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. “No.”

Loki nodded once, picked up their cup of tea, took a sip, and waited.

They didn’t have to wait very long.

“It’s just my dad again. He’s always… Ugh, I don’t know. It’s like I can never make him feel happy. And I’m pissed off.” You rubbed a hand down your face and let it fall to the couch with a dull thud.

“Because he isn’t happy?”

“No. Yes? Ugh.” You were currently feeling a great many things all at once, and were having trouble processing them so that you could express them, but you knew Loki was going to give you the space you needed to do so for as long as it took.

You opened your eyes and looked back up at the ceiling, watching the fan swing in slow circles for a few long moments, and eventually heaved another sigh.

“…it goes like this. My dad, he… comes from a family where it was very much work hard or get nothing. So he’s been working since he was old enough to be in school. Back then they still didn’t really care so much about child labor. I mean, what where they going to do if the whole family was out there working, you know? And so he’s never really had to not work. And even now that he’s retired, he still works. It’s like that’s all he knows how to do. And I guess… I don’t know, because he was raised that way, he thinks that I should be that way, and that if I’m not constantly working, or even wanting to work, then that means that I just don’t have any drive or any sort of perseverance. And that subsequently means that I’m not really doing anything worthwhile with my life, and therefore wasting it away, and he ‘can’t believe he raised his child like this.’” You stopped, because you had to. You were getting worked up again, and the pure frustration was leaving tears welled up in your eyes.

Loki nodded along as you spoke, and once you fell silent, they hummed softly. “I can see how that would cause some tension between you, yes.”

“And it’s like… I can’t even bring up how it makes me feel to him, because then he likes to tell me that I’m twisting his words or… or that I always make him the bad guy, and… and I’m just so tired of feeling like anything and everything that I ever do will never be enough for him. I’m sick of it. Sick of it.” Unable to hold it in for any longer, you picked up one of the decorative pillows on the couch and pressed it to your face, giving another lengthy scream of utter frustration while Loki only watched you with an expression purposely trained blank.

“…feel any better now?” they asked again, once you’d let the pillow fall back to the couch again, and this time, you huffed out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, actually, I kinda do. I should scream like this more often. You think the others mind?”

Loki shook their head, and it was, in part, out of fondness, and in part due to amusement. “I don’t think the screaming is what’s helping, Y/N.”

“Well, what else would it be, because talking about the whole situation just makes me feel shitty.”

Loki leaned forward, elbows braced atop their knees as they looked at you. “Do you know why that is?”

You tilted your head down to look at them, narrowing your eyes. “I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“Because you don’t talk about it. Y/N, keeping all of this in because you can’t talk to your father about it is doing nothing but letting those emotions fester and mold and the longer you keep them in, the more toxic it becomes to yourself, and to your mental and emotional health.”

You had just enough leftover frustration to be mildly annoyed with them. “Since when did you become a therapist?”

“I’m speaking as someone who knows what it’s like. To have expectations put on you that you can’t quite seem to live up to. To feel like a disappointment, and that nothing you ever do will ever be enough. I get it. Believe you me, I get it more than anyone could.”

You considered that for a long moment, realizing that Loki had to have been telling the truth. You’d never really heard the full story about everything that had ever gone down between Thor and Loki, and even their parents, but you could put two and two together well enough to paint yourself a decent picture.

“…how did you handle it?”

Loki smiled. “Well, I came to Earth and tried to rule all of humanity, so.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at that, and Loki did, as well, but eventually, they spoke again.

“And you know what? That didn’t help. Nothing ever really helped, until I came here, and had people to talk to, about everything I’d lived through, the trauma I’d grown up with, realized and not. And that… That is what truly helped. Giving myself the permission to not keep it to myself for any longer.”

You nodded slowly, a little stunned at the profundity of the statement, and it took you a few long moments before you spoke again. “…I suppose you have a point.”

Loki nodded, and grinned that insufferable grin that you knew they were making just to get you to smile. “I seldom don’t.” You both shared a genuine smile before they continued. “But I’m serious. Talking about it will help. And it doesn’t have to be with me, or anyone here. We have resources available to us. More than most. And in time… This won’t feel so life-ending anymore. You know?”

You heaved a sigh, and nodded definitively. “…I guess it wouldn’t be so hard to do.”

Loki nodded. “If nothing else, you can always abandon your father on another planet for his sins.” They said it just evenly enough that you couldn’t tell how much of a joke they were saying it as.

“Loki, I say this because I love you: you need help.”

Loki laughed whole-heartedly. “So do you, Y/N. All the best people do.”

All you could do was laugh, feeling like (a bit) of the weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #angst #Tiny bit of angst #comfort #anonymous #ask #answered #thank you for the ask!

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Acrida

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Graysonfam, Dickkory

Summary:

The Acrida Protocol, a plan created by the Justice League, required its members to provide immediate aid to those superheroes who would call upon it, especially in the case of time travel.

After a mission gone wrong, Dick and Donna find themselves stranded in 2005. They've been trained for this scenario, they know what to do, they just need to find someone who will fix their time-travel devices and help them get home.

But not before they help a young nurse and a special baby escape a demonic cult chasing them and get to the sanctuary of a convent in Ohio.

This note is long so bear with me

Throughout the process of writing this story, I've had (still have) many complicated, conflicted feelings. And with the show coming to an end, I'll be honest with you. This fic... I almost didn't release it. In fact, there were a couple of times when I almost deleted the whole thing - I'm glad I didn't but I was pretty damn close. Because every time in the recent months when I sat down to write it, I heard this intrusive voice in my head saying "Why the fuck do you even bother? This is not Dickkory, no one's gonna give a shit. Don't waste your time." So I'd close the blank page and let it lay dormant for months until that miniscule spark of hope would tell me it's actually worth it to finish it.

There's a saying about fanfiction that you write it for yourself. For the things you love. And that's true - but there's much more to it. You write it so you can reach others who love the same thing you do, whether it'd be one person or a thousand. But when you see how slowly, that one or a thousand dissipates, already one foot out the door with their focus elsewhere, when the weight on your shoulders gets heavier because you create create create without the ability to for once consume because you come to a pretty scary realization that if it wasn't for you creating, there would be no new fan content for this thing to consume - because no one else is creating, the ao3 tag is dry as hell because no one else but you is writing for this thing anymore, no one else seems to care enough to do so. The whole experience was and still is really alienating and it took me some time to process it, took spilling my guts to the closest people I have within this fandom to actually come to terms with it and start letting it go.

So, this one is for me. A self pat on the back. You did good, you gave your heart and soul to it, it's time to go now. It's me quietly leaving the room full of people turned the other way, busy shouting profanities at a show they love so much because they didn't quite get what they wanted. That's fine. Valid. My heart breaks for you, truly and I wish I could do something about it but unfortunately, I can't. And I understand the frustration, I didn't quite get what I wanted either. A month or two ago I would've been shouting profanities and throwing tomatoes as well. But a wise woman and a dear friend once told me: you gotta remember what house you're in. So, I'm taking what I got and take my leave. Leaving this behind in hopes that maybe, if you decide to read it, it will at the very least help you get your mind off the swirl of emotion in your heart, even if just for a moment.

I'm not going to pretend it's some epic, amazing story. It's an idea that got rooted in my brain right after season 1 (so it's been growing there for 4 years), a tiny seed with nothing but a blurry concept and no details. I tried to commit to it, give it a good plot and I can say that what I came up with isn't that bad. But it's not elaborate, it's just one giant excuse for me to give Dick Grayson a chance to get to know his adopted daughter when she was just a tiny baby, to get to hold her and care for her and play with her, and have a myriad of complicated feelings about the whole experience.

Maybe it's my last Titans fic, maybe it isn't. Time will tell. There's still one Titans-related project I am actually, truly excited about, the sequel we promised and I know it will happen because the story is too precious to me, to us, to not see it through. But other than that... you can catch me over at The Last of Us side of AO3 from now on. Here, I guess it's lights out.

Chapters dropping whenever. I'll try to do it weekly, I have 4 chapters done, probably out of 5 or 6, but I'm still writing and at first I planned to not post anything until the story is finished but tbh I need to get it out of my system. Release it for the world to claim it. There was an option to wait until it's done and just drop the whole thing at once but... fuck it. It's out when it's out. I know I must sound defeated to you, and to some degree I am. But I'm also letting go of all these negative emotions by starting to release this story so I can enjoy the series finale with no heavy weight on my heart, shed some tears of joy instead of sadness or frustration as I say goodbye to my favorite fictional family and go celebrate an incredible run of an incredible show with my closest fandom friends. And I do love this story, I actually wrote some things today that I'm really happy about and excited to share, and I hope that you, if you decide to read it, will love it as well.

I'm not tagging anyone, here at least. I'll share it separately with the people I care about and let them decide what to do with it. If you find it, you decide to read it - great, good to see you, take a seat and enjoy the ride. Hit that subscribe button on AO3 if you want to follow or if you really want to be tagged here, let me know so I can start from chapter 2. If not, well, let's just let it get buried, maybe someone will find it someday.

All that's left for me to do is write a little bit more to finish this story and properly catch up on the fics from my friends, which is a slow process, I know, but I'm getting there.

As always, enjoy.

#dc titans #titans #tv: titans #dcu titans #titans fic #titans s4 #titans season 4 #dick grayson #kory anders #rachel roth #garfield logan #donna troy #graysonfam #dickkory

[ilguna]

hey babe!! i hope you’re feeling much better than you were a few days ago! (your sickness was passed to me through the phone because i haven’t been able to get out of bed to do anything other than use the restroom, shower, and eat)

but!! i have a small (?) question to ask you. how do you easily write and post a fic??? i’ve gotten quite a few requests, and they’re all very lovely but once i go to write them my mind goes completely blank. like, when i read the request i have so many ideas on how i want it to go, but when i start to write it i just feel bored and end up going to do something else. i really really want to write because i love writing and i used to do it all the time when i was a little bit younger, but now i hardly can anymore :(

i’m thinking about making or reblogging prompt lists, because hopefully that’ll help me put out SOMETHING even if it’s short. but i don’t want to get my hopes up, then lose motivation right after, and it be all for nothing. (it might also be the fact that i’m scared no one will like what i put out and not want to request anything from me again🧍🏻) i know you might not be able to help, but if you are i would really appreciate it! if you can’t, no worries and no hard feelings at all. love ya and stay safe!! xxx

- 🪷

hey!! i am feeling SO much better than i did. and i’m sorry!! i hope you have a speedy recovery too!!

i’m putting a cut cause there’s gonna be a lot of pictures as i explain MY PROCESS, because maybe you’ll be able to pick out some things you’d like to try, because i struggle with the same stuff.

as for your question, this might be a little long. i want to start by saying that it might appear that i’m able to easily write, but the truth is that i also have difficulty starting fics and that’s what fucks me up most of the time.

however!! here’s what i do: i write out what i want to happen. just a couple paragraphs (or more!!) of the idea/general goal/scenes that i come up with that MUST make it. i’ve especially been doing this when it comes to the 3k celebration asks because it helps me to have fics lined up so i can just pick up the next one without worrying what im going to do next.

and i do this either on paper (i have a notebook dedicated to it) or on my phone, which is what i’ve been doing recently. so i just screenshot the ask, put it in my notes app and write down my idea so it turns out what i have below:

the part that i really struggle with is starting the fic, which is why i believe we must be in the same boat. i think that it’s easier to write when i don’t have the pressure of forgetting the idea, because i do have a lot going on and i’d hate for it to escape my mind.

but i have learned some ways to cheat starting the fics. (it’s not really cheating, just basic writing nonsense) and i always have a slow start at the beginning of fics cause idk how to write it without feeling repetitive. so i have a few formulas for that

the following are going to be all examples of how i’ve started my fics:

so either i set up the setting.

i start with an action.

i IMMEDIATELY begin to monologue.

or i start with dialogue.

and sometimes these don’t even work. i can’t tell you the amount of times i’ve started to write a paragraph in google doc, liked where it was going but not how it was phrased, so i pressed enter a couple times and started from scratch while referencing the original paragraph. and i do this SO MUCH that it’s practically part of the writing process now.

also, sometimes writing is just boring in general. i have to really be into the story to want to write it, or i have to accept that it’s boring and make it how i want to. like yes, follow the request. but at the end of the day, if they ever do want to see it, you’ve got to sprinkle some of what you want into the fic.

that’s where i create the backgrounds, start dynamics, give the reader a personality, etc to make it more fun. it gives me something to do while i hit the points of their fics. if that makes sense at all.

ANYWAY, reblogging prompt lists is my worst nightmare tbh. because it can help in many ways or it can literally be the bane of your existence. i hate them, that’s why i only have them available for celebrations.

you don’t get to choose the dialogue, most of the time people won’t give you anything to go off of (an idea to go with the writing), and if you don’t like it, you’re kinda backed into a corner. this is how i see it, it might not be the same for you.

they also might just stack up in your inbox and you’ll see them the same way that you’re seeing your regular requests :( just more stuff to write that you don’t feel like doing anymore.

but also, fear is 100% part of it dude. i still get that way when i post for new fandoms/people and i convince myself that everyone’s gonna hate it. here’s the truth: if people don’t like it, they’re going to keep scrolling. or they’ll read a little bit and then decide that it’s not for them. i have NEVER once received an ask/comment about people hating my fic (except on wattpad cause it’s full of brats 😭) because people don’t usually care that much. i’m even guilty of this!!

honestly, write those fics, just go for it. or if you don’t want to start with those, then write a little blurb you’ve had in your head and post it. gives you some momentum to keep going.

and if people don’t come back, that’s on them. do your own thing in the meantime, you’ll attract people. and when the requests start coming in again, all you have to do is start the process over.

honestly, i’ve been writing and posting fanfic on the internet for the past 7 years now. this is EXACTLY the fear i had each time i got a new account and had to start over. there is literally nothing more terrifying than posting what you love on the internet. but at this point, people dgaf and keep their opinions to themselves. it makes it easier to exist.

i have no idea if any of this made sense but i hope you get what im trying to say 😭 i don’t get this question super often but i try my best. anyway, i love you too 💛 and i will catch you on the flip side!!

#ilguna #lotus anon #ask #writing advice

[hypaalicious]

3,6,& 9 if you please~ it's so good seeing you on my dash 💖

Yeah I’m lame and screenshot the questions cause I end up forgetting what I’m even talking about mid-type 😂

… also, I read “3, 6, 9” and immediately followed it up with “damn you fine, hoping she can sock it to me one more time, GET LOWWWW GET LOW GET LOWWW”

Sorry okay let me get back on track

I answered 3 in a previous ask, so

#6 - hardest part is probably just starting to write, LMAO! There’s nothing like the intimidation of facing a blank document and a flashing cursor waiting for you to put something down, frfr. I end up overthinking the story before I’ve even written it. 😩 Once I get rolling, it’s a lot easier, even though I have mini hurdles along the way like trying to figure out the BEST word to use in a sentence or how to transition scenes.

#9 - writing process??? WHAT’S THAT

Okay well I can now say it’s totally different between fics vs novels/script writing

For fics, it’s totally “get obsessed with an idea, marinate on it in your mind for days, fly off the seat of your pants while writing it”. What I plan is often not entirely how the fics go, but hey, I get to be surprised by the outcome just as much as the readers are 😂

For novels and professional writing, I learned that outlines are mandatory, so I start with that. Pacing must fit within thresholds and if you just ramble you end up with a lot that needs to be trimmed or re-worked, and that sucks. I basically had to re-write my manuscript from scratch after the first draft got (lovingly) critiqued by beta readers because fic writing ain’t novel writing, LOL. Also, to help get my writing going, I actually RP’d a third of it with a good friend to get a feel for how I wanted it to go. This prevented me from falling into a writer’s block cause I had someone else basically prompting me to write my story bits at a time. The final product is very different from what was RP’d, but that base really helped me get the rest of it done.

I also wrote scenes out of order instead of stressing over writing “boring” parts to catch up to the stuff I really wanted to write. Never did that before, but once again, it was to stave off writer’s block.

For game writing scripts… lord, that was such an adjustment 😩 Yes, outlining is mandatory! Believe it or not, my weakest link is writing dialogue. I depend on narrative descriptions to fill space, but in a game where everything is dialogue driven it’s rough. I had to picture my characters talking way more than I’ve ever even pictured actual people talking, LOL! My introvert status is mad showing, I know 😂 But dude, you don’t realize how much dialogue is involved in even the most mundane things until you’re like “oh, I can’t infer their nervousness through descriptive body language or tense atmosphere, I have to figure out how to make them say they’re nervous without actually having them SAY straight up they’re nervous and not having it feel like scenes move clunkily.” I’m so damn verbose that I didn’t think I could do it, fam. 🥲

But now I’m in 100% script writing mode and just need to finish the game so I can throw myself back into long-form writing to get my groove back 😂

#okay I rambled a whole lot #it tracks for me tho #I hated outline writing and swore to never do it #but now I’m older and wiser and gotten my ass beat by trial and error #I still won’t do it for fics but literally anything serious I want to write I will immediately outline LOL #also HI GURL I HOPE U DOING GOOD #not so Anon ask

[trishacollins]

On The Shore’s of Time Pt. 2

The pages of his journal remain blank. He starts writing several times, but nothing sticks. Nothing works in his mind.

Then the journal is stolen with the rest of his things, a knife in his side that heals, of course. But he had nothing left to him. From riches to rags, and then barely those. The hunger that gnaws at him is ever growing, a persistent ache that even his body cannot heal him away from. He nearly misses their date - it's luck or something a little bit like magic that lets him see his Stranger as he heads into the inn, some knowing that sneaks over him and swallows him whole.

Andromache is not so lucky. They return to the town a week after his stranger has been and gone again. Nicoli finds him in the streets, forces him to bathe, provides him with a change of clothes while he disposes of the rags. Andromache is nearly glowing with her rage, a fury that suffuses her entire being while she paces. He tracks her with his eyes, curled around the bowl of stew that Yusuf has insisted he eat slowly - re-feeding is a process, he tells him, and starvation's cure has its own ills. Not that doing so would kill them. But there were times living was its own discomfort. Starving had not killed him, after all. "He said nothing of us?" She was looping back around to her questions. He sighed, wanting to soak up the warmth through his palms, to curl up in the bed and rest his head. But she would not be satisfied with a single recounting. "I did not press him when he declined to answer, Andromache." He said softly. "I feared he would leave if I challenged him." She made a sound in the back of her throat, raking her hands through her hair, meeting the wall and spinning around again. "He said nothing of you. Only inclined his head when I asked if he knew. He was more curious as to my tale, Andromache. He wanted to know why I wished to cling to this life." He said, lifting a single mouthful of the soup to his mouth, to Yusuf's approval. "But they only ask you." She snapped. "Never us." He thinks back to his stranger, asking him with the odd smile if he truly wishes to never die. He knows none of the rest have such a moment, a teasing challenge.

He is also no more sure what his stranger wishes of him. It is clearly not greatness. He was given more attention from his stranger for his suffering than he had for his successes. "He asked if I would travel with you." He offers, finally, thinking. "And you said?"

"That I felt myself pulled elsewhere. He seemed satisfied with that." He shrugged. "He also asked my thoughts of drowning, and I told him the three times I had encountered that fate were all wretched." He flicks his gaze to Andromache, questioning - but for all that she presses him, she will give no answers. She swore, stopping at the wall and gazing at a knot in the wood. He thinks, were his stranger here, he might simply burst into flames. "He gave me nothing, just as the times before. We will meet again in a hundred years." She gave him a look, then. "If you think -"

"I am no prisoner, Andromache. Whatever he means for me, he clearly means for it to be a singular experience." He tipped his bowl back, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "I do not wish to make an enemy of you, Andromache, it sounds taxing." Yusuf chuckled, and Nicoli smiled faintly. "Let him rest, Andromache. He clearly needs it. Perhaps sleeping will wrest something free from his memory?" Yusuf suggested. "You'll get nothing more from him tonight." 

She still looked furious, though he could not be sure it was directed at him. "Fine. Rest. We will discuss it again in the morning."

He expects, that night to dream of his Stranger. He often does in the days after their visits. Dreams of conversations they might have had, dreams of the stranger looking through his journals. But he does dream of a journal, his. Mud stained and creased, ruined. The only words on the page that he can read are writ in his own hand 'that which once was loved can never be wholly forgotten.'

But then his Eleanor is calling him away, voice soft and he is standing in their chambers, the sun haloing around her features, washing them away to make up for the fact that he can no longer quite remember how she looked. "Look at him, Robert. Isn't he perfect?" She whispers, voice too soft to wake their son.

Robyn is made small in her arms, swaddled tight against the spring chill, features perfect. Dark curls and tiny fingers. "Our Orpheus."  He takes the fragile bundle from her arms, crooning over the babe.

"He's perfect in every way, love. Perfect in every way." There is pride in it, of course, that he has a son. But it is overwhelmed by a love so deep he feels he might set the world on fire just to protect this babe in his arms. 

"Won't you help me? Please?" He looks up, and the boy is there, face twisted in tragedy. "Please, father."

"Anything." The babe is gone from his arms. "Anything. Please, tell me." But the youth looks away from him, turns away entirely. Gone. He rises to follow, to give chase, to promise his aid. "Com-"

"You left this one blank." Eleanor's voice says behind him. Only, he knows it is not his Eleanor behind him. She's holding his book, his journal, looking at him down her nose. She's drowning, drowning, again and again. She's holding his book in her hand and looking at him as she comes back and dies and dies again. He reaches for it, and tumbles free of the bed.

Yusuf is there, and then Nicoli a moment later, helping him up. "No." He moans, rocking, confused. "Nightmare, my friend. It's alright, you are safe." Yusuf's voice coaxes. "I have to help him. He *needs* me." But the rest is lost to nonsense. In the waking world, it becomes a muddle of confused impressions and nothing more. He lets Yusuf sooth him, lets himself be plied with tea and a warm blanket to at least rest his bones near the fire. The sleep that follows is entirely dreamless.

#the old guard #the sandman #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #andromache of scythia #hob gadling

[apoptoses]

36 for the fic asks?

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

Yes, intensely. If I can't visualize the entire scene down to the background sounds and smells I can't write it, because then it just doesn't seem real to me.

This is going to sound insane but this is my process:

With Armand and Daniel in specific I have a little exercise that I do (usually when I'm driving to where my horse lives). I picture them first in a completely blank space, no walls, no floors, nothing around them, just the two of them, and I let them talk. Usually Armand starts off with a question, and then I mentally let them riff on that until the conversation starts to feel real and impactful.

As soon as one of them says something really insightful that I think fits the tone of the whole fic, then the scene itself falls into place.

For example in the Copley fic I knew I wanted Armand to ask Daniel for a secret. Once Daniel came to the topic of confession and that whole story came out of him, the church formed around them in my mind with the two of them standing at the votive candles. I was able to see Armand demanding he light the candle and then pinching out the flame. And from there I was able to work backwards, to have them walking down the street at night until they found the church and built up to that whole talk.

On the rare occasion I do have a scene I know I want to occur in a specific place I do as much research about that place as I can, usually including watching a movie that features it. I wanted Daniel and Armand to visit a night club so I watched Saturday Night Fever and did a lot of googling for images and interviews of people who loved to go out and dance in the 70s. I looked up what drinks were popular, what people were wearing, the music that was on the radio in that year. What aftershave Daniel might have on and whether that smell would be familiar to Armand or smell synthetic to him.

Did I use all of that info? Not necessarily. But did it inform how Armand acted when I visualized him in the location? Absolutely. I need all of those pieces or else the scene is hollow in my mind and I have no connection to it.

So...that was a lot more info than you probably wanted, but that's how it works for me lol

#apoptoses answers