#to any creatives out there. i know easier said than done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jonnywaistcoat · 2 months

Note

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

1K notes · View notes

byoldervine · 12 days

Text

Writing Tips - Beating Perfectionism

1. Recognising writing perfectionism. It’s not usually as literal as “This isn’t 100% perfect and so it is the worst thing ever”, in my experience it usually sneaks up more subtly. Things like where you should probably be continuing on but if you don’t figure out how to word this paragraph better it’s just going to bug you the whole time, or where you’re growing demotivated because you don’t know how to describe the scene 100% exactly as you can imagine it in your head, or things along those lines where your desire to be exact can get in the way of progression. In isolated scenarios this is natural, but if it’s regularly and notably impacting your progress then there’s a more pressing issue

2. Write now, edit later. Easier said than done, which always infuriated me until I worked out how it translates into practice; you need to recognise what the purpose of this stage of the writing process is and when editing will hinder you more than help you. Anything up to and including your first draft is purely done for structural and creative purposes, and trying to impose perfection on a creative process will naturally stifle said creativity. Creativity demands the freedom of imperfection

3. Perfection is stagnant. We all know that we have to give our characters flaws and challenges to overcome since, otherwise, there’s no room for growth or conflict or plot, and it ends up being boring and predictable at best - and it’s just the same as your writing. Say you wrote the absolute perfect book; the perfect plot, the perfect characters, the perfect arcs, the perfect ending, etc etc. It’s an overnight bestseller and you’re discussed as a literary great for all time. Everyone, even those outside of your target demographic, call it the perfect book. Not only would that first require you to turn the perfect book into something objective, which is impossible, but it would also mean that you would either never write again, because you can never do better than your perfect book, or you’ll always write the exact same thing in the exact same way to ensure constant perfection. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, and all in all it’s just fearful behaviour meant to protect you from criticism that you aren’t used to, rather than allowing yourself to get acclimated to less than purely positive feedback

4. Faulty comparisons. Comparing your writing to that of a published author’s is great from an analytical perspective, but it can easily just become a case of “Their work is so much better, mine sucks, I’ll never be as good as them or as good as any ‘real’ writer”. You need to remember that you’re comparing a completely finished draft, which likely underwent at least three major edits and could have even had upwards of ten, to wherever it is you’re at. A surprising number of people compare their *first* draft to a finished product, which is insanity when you think of it that way; it seems so obvious from this perspective why your first attempt isn’t as good as their tenth. You also end up comparing your ability to describe the images in your head to their ability to craft a new image in your head; I guarantee you that the image the author came up with isn’t the one their readers have, and they’re kicking themselves for not being able to get it exactly as they themselves imagine it. Only the author knows what image they’re working off of; the readers don’t, and they can imagine their own variation which is just as amazing

5. Up close and too personal. Expanding on the last point, just in general it’s harder to describe something in coherent words than it is to process it when someone else prompts you to do so. You end up frustrated and going over it a gazillion times, even to the point where words don’t even look like words anymore. You’ve got this perfect vision of how the whole story is supposed to go, and when you very understandably can’t flawlessly translate every single minute detail to your satisfaction, it’s demotivating. You’re emotionally attached to this perfect version that can’t ever be fully articulated through any other medium. But on the other hand, when consuming other media that you didn’t have a hand in creating, you’re viewing it with perfectly fresh eyes; you have no ‘perfect ideal’ of how everything is supposed to look and feel and be, so the images the final product conjures up become that idealised version - its no wonder why it always feels like every writer except you can pull off their visions when your writing is the only one you have such rigorous preconceived notions of

6. That’s entertainment. Of course writing can be stressful and draining and frustrating and all other sorts of nasty things, but if overall you can’t say that you ultimately enjoy it, you’re not writing for the right reasons. You’ll never take true pride in your work if it only brings you misery. Take a step back, figure out what you can do to make things more fun for you - or at least less like a chore - and work from there

7. Write for yourself. One of the things that most gets to me when writing is “If this was found and read by someone I know, how would that feel?”, which has lead me on multiple occasions to backtrack and try to be less cringe or less weird or less preachy or whatever else. It’s harder to share your work with people you know whose opinions you care about and whose impressions of you have the potential of shifting based on this - sharing it to strangers whose opinions ultimately don’t matter and who you’ll never have to interact with again is somehow a lot less scary because their judgements won’t stick. But allowing the imaginary opinions of others to dictate not even your finished project, but your unmoderated creative process in general? Nobody is going to see this without your say so; this is not the time to be fussing over how others may perceive your writing. The only opinion that matters at this stage is your own

8. Redirection. Instead of focusing on quality, focusing on quantity has helped me to improve my perfectionism issues; it doesn’t matter if I write twenty paragraphs of complete BS so long as I’ve written twenty paragraphs or something that may or may not be useful later. I can still let myself feel accomplished regardless of quality, and if I later have to throw out whole chapters, so be it

9. That’s a problem for future me. A lot of people have no idea how to edit, or what to look for when they do so, so having a clear idea of what you want to edit by the time the editing session comes around is gonna be a game-changer once you’re supposed to be editing. Save the clear work for when you’re allocating time for it and you’ll have a much easier and more focused start to the editing process. It’ll be more motivating than staring blankly at the intimidating word count, at least

10. The application of applications. If all else fails and you’re still going back to edit what you’ve just wrote in some struggle for the perfect writing, there are apps and websites that you can use that physically prevent you from editing your work until you’re done with it. If nothing else, maybe it can help train you away from major edits as you go

309 notes · View notes

stvrni0lo · 10 months

Text

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: chris is intrigued by your skincare routine, so you offer to do it for him too

warnings/notes: none? lmk if i missed anything

requested?: yes!!! tysm for all of these requests u guys are so creative

> > >

You were in Chris’ ensuite bathroom, applying a cleanser to your face. There was nothing better than washing off the remainder off the day and committing to some self care before bed.

Hearing Chris enter the room, you let him know you’re in the bathroom as he follows you in. He sits on the edge of the bathtub next to you, watching you.

You begin to dab the water off your face as you reach into the cabinet to pull out a cream face mask.

“What’s that?” asked Chris.

“It’s a face mask,” you respond as you unscrew the cap, “it’s kind of like a moisturizer, except you keep it on for a few minutes and then wash it off.”

He takes a closer look at the substance, tilting his head.

“Can I try?”

You smile at him as you nod, taking out another spatula for him before setting the container onto the corner of the sink. Taking a bit of the mask onto the spatula, you begin demonstrating how to put it on.

“Okay, don’t put too much. A little goes a long way,” you explain.

Chris finds a headband of yours in one of the drawers and he sets his hair back before getting to work. His application is slow and gentle, as if he was scared to mess up. It was a bit messy, but he did a good job overall.

“What now?” he asked.

You giggle at his impatience. “We wait.”

Grabbing the spatula from him, you rinse it in the sink before placing it back in your skincare bag.

You look over at him, giggling at his confused state. It’s not like it was his first time doing skincare, but he had never done it with you before.

His white face stared at you under the bathroom light, smiling as he noticed that you both looked slightly ridiculous.

After spending some time watching tiktok together, you begin to wash off your mask.

You get a towel and run it under warm water before wiping away at your face slowly. It always felt gross to wipe off this stuff, but the warmth of the cloth against your face was nice. Turning to Chris, you raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to take it off for you?” you asked.

His eyes lit up as he nodded, sitting back down at the edge of the tub and closing his eyes.

Finishing yourself up, you took another small face cloth and repeated the action of putting it under warm water. You moved to stand in between his legs and Chris’ hands instinctively went to the back of your thighs, gripping you close.

You ran the wet towel against his forehead and cheeks, making sure to wipe any residue from his face. He tilted his head back to give you a better angle. The newfound access made it easier for you to clean him up.

“That feels really nice,” he whispered.

You kissed his chin as you finished up. “Let’s rinse our faces and moisturize.”

“I thought the mask was moisturizing?” he asked curiously.

“It is, yeah, but you need to apply some after anyway. It keeps the moisture in so your skin doesn’t dry out.

He nodded at your explanation, turning the tap on to splash some water on his face. After getting rid of the remaining bits of the face mask, you pulled out your favorite lotion and began slathering it onto your hands.

“Okay look at me,” you said to Chris.

He tapped his face with a towel quickly before turning to you, hands finding your waist immediately. He turned his head to look at you in the mirror, smiling at the way that you were looking at him, hands covered in face cream.

You turned his face towards you before you massaged the lotion into his skin. Rubbing small motions into his skin, you lathered it onto his neck as well, making sure to get it everywhere.

His hands tapped your waist in a random rhythm, humming an unfamiliar tune as you worked away. He began to sway you slightly, despite the lack of music.

“We should do this more often,” he said as he pulled you closer, grabbing your hand in his as you wrapped the other around his neck.

Dancing around on the spot, you responded with a silent ‘yeah’.

It was all you could say as your words were cut short from your throat. You couldn’t focus on anything but his eyes staring down at you, the arm around your waist soothing you into a rhythm with him as he urged you to keep slow dancing.

His lips found your forehead as he pressed a kiss to it. They then moved to your nose before finally connecting his mouth to yours.

You hugged him tighter, pressing your body into his as the dancing came to a halt.

Brushing his fingers along the hem of your shirt, he pulled back and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Alright, let me help you moisturize too.”

He set you up on the sink, settling in between your legs as he grabbed the cream from the cabinet and opened it.

After tonight, skincare routines became a nightly necessity for you both.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets x reader

637 notes · View notes

yaytheboop · 8 days

Text

I absolutely support paying artists and supporting creators, and seeing the quality of Watcher's videos especially lately I've understood that it wouldn't be sustainable for a while now. I will never say that I expect anyone to come out with so much high-quality content so regularly without being financially compensated for it.

That being said, I think the way they've gone about this has just not been the smartest. First off by doing this so suddenly with no warning, and also having a big countdown to it when it's actually quite a sad thing to see them go. Like it felt like they were counting down to a party but then it was a funeral that took place instead, and even the mood of the video they put out was quite somber. I think it put the wrong expectations in fans (me included), which just made the shock even bigger than it needed to be (especially for this sort of announcement).

I think they actually were quite respectful of the fact that people wouldn't be able to continue to follow them over to WatcherTV, but the comment about "making it affordable so everyone could subscribe to their plan" and then it being $60 a year was kind of insulting. It would have been better if they'd been realistic about it and said that they understood that it might be a steep price for some, but that they hoped it would be affordable for some of their subscribers while still giving them the chance to produce high-quality content or something along those lines.

What I don't understand however is how this is supposed to be sustainable in the long run? Because if I'm someone who's scrolling Youtube and comes across one of their old videos, I'll watch them all there. If I'm scrolling and come across one of their newer videos, and see that the rest of those videos are behind a paywall, then I'm gonna continue to scroll, I won't pay $60 to watch someone I previously didn't really know.

I don't know businesses, especially businesses in creative fields, and definitely not USAmerican businesses in creative fields, so I'm not sure how this would work financially. However, I think there's one of two things they could have done to make it easier for us as fans to transition, as well as still earn them some of that extra revenue (to start with):

They could add a free subscription with ads on their streaming service. I don't know how easy that is, getting sponsors and incorporating pop-up ads on a service, but that's an option.

They could have started out by putting some of their bigger projects on the service, but still regularly making content on Youtube that was not as produced or financially

I think having their own streaming platform is a good idea because then they won't be bound by Youtube's restrictions and have more creative freedom, as well as the whole economic side of this. The way they're executing it however is just alienating and frankly a bit insulting to the fans who have been with them for so long and supported them through so much and now suddenly can't watch anything new anymore with barely any warning.

Yeah, this became very long but I had some thoughts that I just needed to air.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #watchertv

107 notes · View notes

opposums-love-arson · 7 months

Text

Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Stu Macher x Reader x Billy Loomis

Okay so basically let's just cut to the chase, the main character "(y/n)" is Sidney Prescott's little stepsister, yeah? Well, what happens when she takes Sid's place as the final girl? A whole lot. Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the copy righted owners of the Scream franchise. The only creative input I had in this fan fiction was the part of (y/n), almost everything else can be found in the movie. Follows the movie very closely. I mean the actual movie, not the script. Obviously switching out some parts to fit the narrative. It takes a couple of chapters to really get it kicking but I promise it gets good. *NO SMUT* these are still high school students and I do not want to overtly sexualize KIDS! And if you make the argument of "I'm not a kid" I'm 18 been there, done that, don't try it.

"Hello, who is it?" I asked into the large telephone.

"No one in particular..." Sounds like another one of the boys' prank calls.

"Okay Mr. No one in particular, any reason for the call?"

"No reason in particular, just wanted to talk."

"Hmm okay then talk," I said as I swiveled around in my chair.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" The raspy but oddly pitched voice asked.

"Oh I've got plenty but you might want to sit down, it'll take a while."

"I've got time."

"Ya know, stuff like Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw. Then there's creature features like The Thing. B-horror like Slumber Part Massacre or Sleepaway Camp." I finally finish my rambling when I hear my step sister and her boyfriend in the other room.

"Do you really like scary movies?"

"Oh yeah definitely but I think it's mainly because of my step sister's friends?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean I always liked horror but they really got me into it. Especially our friends Randy, Billy and Stu, they're crazy about that stuff!" I said as I flopped down onto my bed.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing with all those guys?"

"They're not a lot of guys, if anything it equals out our group," I said, completely avoiding the whole 'pretty girl' thing... that was kind of weird.

Hearing a knock at my door completely startled me.

"Oh um hey I have to go but feel free to call me back anytime," I whisper into the phone quickly placing it back on the body.

It was obvious the person on the line was saying something before I hung up but I didn't bother to listen

In popped Neil's head from the other side of the door. "Hey kiddo who ya talking to?" He said as he looked around. "Hm? Oh no one, what's up Neil?" I asked, now back in my desk chair. Neil was a good guy, I'm glad he and my mom started dating, they actually just got engaged! I think I was more excited about it than my step sister, Sindey, she's still grieving. "Just got done talking to your sister, I'm going to hit the sack, remember I'm not back until sunday. Cash on the table and call if you need anything," He said waiting for me to say something. "Alright got it Neil, have fun at the expo!" I waved him off before he closed the door.

My mom and I didn't move to Woodsoro until she really started dating Neil. It's always just been her and I for as long as I can remember, but it feels good to be part of a complete family again. I missed our old home at first with all my friends and family but Sid quickly took me under her wing. I met all of her friends including Stu, Tatum, Randy and Sid's boyfriend Billy. I'll admit it was weird at first because they just saw me as the little step sister but once Randy and I went on a ranting debate about which was the real pioneer of Slasher; Texas Chainsaw or Black Christmas, it got a lot easier. Even though Stu and Billy were pretty cute I'll never be used to Stu's wild energy, nor Billy's slightly shady behavior.

The next morning didn't go quite as expected... There were reporters, cameras, and news vans posted up all around school. Sid and I were freaked the moment we got off the bus. She was looking around bewildered by everything going on until we spotted one woman in particular, Gale Weathers. To say the least, Weathers was a total bitch towards Sid's mom's name.

"Can you believe this shit?!" We heard a voice pop up from behind us. Sid totally jumped.

"Tatum, what is going on?" Sidney asks, waving her arm out to the school.

"Yeah, since when was Woodsboro flooded with reporters?" I looked over at Tatum, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You don't know?" Tatum asked both of us, a hint of amusement on her face.

"No," Sid and I said in unison, still confused.

"Casey Becker and Steve Orth were killed last night," She said with a harsh but light tone just above a whisper.

"What?! No way!" Sid softly exclaimed.

I was too shocked to say a single word so I just listened.

"And we're not just talking killed, we're talking splatter movie killed. Ripped open, from end to end," Tatum talked about it with entertaining ease, like it was just gossip.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Casey Becker, she sits next to me in English," Sid said looking over at her best friend.

I think you mean sat, Sid. I thought.

"Not anymore," Said Tatum with a wobble of her head.

She went on saying, "It's so sad, her mom and dad found her hanging from a tree. Her insides on the outside." Shoving her hands near her stomach.

"Oh my god," Sid said as she reached for the back of her neck, probably to feel the goosebumps that appeared.

"Do they know who did it?" I finally asked, feeling the urge to know.

The two looked over at me with Tatum saying, "Fucking clueless, I mean they're interogating the entire school? Teacher, students, janitors."

"They think someone at school did it?" Sid asked

"They don't know, I mean Dewy was saying this is the worst crime he's seen in years. Even worse than-" Tatum paused when I nudged her side, "Well, it's bad." She finished.

The bell signaling the start of the first period rang.

"C'mon Sid, we gotta get to class..." I said as I lightly grabbed her hand, giving it a slight reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah, alright..." She responded, removing her hand from mine. She's just going through a lot right now.

Sitting through the first period is weird when you have a seat that was right behind a dead person. Not Casey Becker but Steve Orth. He'd ask me for a pencil or notes every day because he forgot his. Claimed it was because of football practice. Soon enough the five minute bell for next class rang. A class that didn't have any dead students.

Walking to my locker to rotate my books I was blocked by none other than Stu Macher.

"Hey, (y/n)," He drawled out my name with a big smile, "Whatcha up to?"

"Getting my books Stu, same thing you should be doing."

"C'mon, you're not still upset with me, are you?" He asked with a fake pout

"Yeah actually I am Stu!" I shouted in a whisper

"I couldn't help myself, I mean look at you?" He said as he squished my face.

Swatting his hand away I said, "That's no excuse!"

"You can be such a prude," he said as he leaned his head on my locker.

"No, it's called being a good friend with a balanced moral compass that can see when her friend's boyfriend is about to cheat with her." I huffed as I slammed my locker door.

"C'mon, (y/n)! You can't stay pissed forever! You'll come around eventually!" Stu shouted after me.

"Like hell I will!" I shouted back. No matter how abundantly clear my feelings for him are, I would never do that behind Tatum's back.

#scream fanfic #ghostface x reader #stu x reader #billy x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #scream x reader #scream x yn

194 notes · View notes

cyxnidx · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can I request part 2 of “What’re you reading?” But with Scaramouche (Wanderer), Heizou, and Albedo?

WHAT’RE YOU READING ? V. 2

sure thing luv <3

part 1 here

characters: Scaramouche, Heizou, Albedo and Tartaglia

summary: they finding you reading/writing smut

a/n: i decided to add tartaglia for this one! hope you dont mind

scara was the curious type, especially with you. so when he felt bored, and decided to see what you were doing only to find you reading, he couldn’t help but be tempted to see it.

“can i see?” he asked timidly, reaching for the book slowly. you couldn’t help but let him take a look, watching as he admired the cover and back.

though, your heart rate when from a calm pace to a panicky one as you watched him open the book, slowly admiring the drawings and speech bubbles.

and just as you tried to take the book, he landed on one of the more mature scenes. you sighed like a disappointed mother as his eyes widened, hands eventually dropping the book out of pure shock.

“at no point in time should i have seen that..” he said, now stunned at the hardcore graphics.

“give it back, heizou!” you scolded, face puckered and annoyed. your boyfriend had taken your phone while you were on ao3, and to say the least, you were more annoyed than you usually would be.

it was your favorite fic, and one of your favorite scenes was coming up. that was until your eyes were too full of anticipation and excitement for heizou’s liking, tempting him to take it.

“what’s so important on it anyway?” he asked, still clueless of the mess he’s gotten himself into already. you sighed, not wanting to tell. “just give it back, and make it easier on yourself.”

“easier?” he asked, somewhat offended by the use of the word. were you looking down on him? “why would you think i’d want to make it easier on myself? do you think there’s something i cant handle here?”

smirking, you shrugged. “maybe. i mean, it may be new as to be a bit hard to comprehend.”

you laughed as you watched him look at your phone, reading the many words that made up such interesting paragraphs, only to give it back in a shock.

“that. i never thought it’d be that.”

albedo had seen it all at this point. from point A, to point Z. though, as much as he had heard, and even watched, he’d never thought that he’d read such descriptive words. Words that made everything seem to realistic.

and with his vivid imagination? oh, it was a field day.

“you see what happens when you use my stuff, albedo?” you asked, hand on your hip and face having a smart look to it.

a particular snarky look he seemed to hate. a cocky expression.

though, there wasn’t much he could do with how shocked he was. he was absolutely stunned. “this is what you read..” he said, almost seeming scarily surprised.

“oh? but i thought you’ve seen it all?” you asked in an unimpressed tone, only to be caught off-guard with his next question. “can we try it?”

“so? what do you think?” you asked expectantly as you watched Tartaglia’s eyes read the words you’ve written for a post.

you frequently wrote online, and he had no problem with it at all. if anything, he loved that it was how you expressed your creativity, emotions and just random thoughts.

he found it beautiful.

however, out of all the things he’d usually proof-read for you, this was the first one he’d consider extreme.

“Tartaglia..?” you asked again, taking into account that he’d went quiet. he should be done reading by now, it wasn’t like it was a lot. just about 3 paragraphs.

“you’d like to know what i thought of it, yes?” he asked, checking for assurance.

you nodded eagerly, wanting to hear his opinion on it or if you’ve made any mistakes describing something.

“honestly..” he began, turning your phone off and placing it on the bedside table. “..how about we test it out first?”

happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate🫶🏼

993 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Little Runaway Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Wayne walked into the sheriff’s station the next morning, coffee in hand.

“Hey, Hop!” Wayne greeted cheerily.

Hopper stood up and gave Wayne a hug. “Hey, Munson, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He eyed the coffee in Wayne’s hand. “That coffee for me?”

Wayne handed it over. Hopper took a long sip and sighed happily.

“The coffee here is no better than mud most days,” he grumbled.

Wayne sat down and nodded to the picture on Hopper’s desk. “That the Harrington kid?”

Hopper sighed again, this time more resigned. “Yeah. No one’s seen him in a week and Clint is breathing down my neck to find him. Only he’s a grown man now and can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Bit strange him not telling any of his friends where he went, though,” Wayne said.

Hopper groaned. “I know. I’m worried about him, too. And with Harrington breathing down my neck, it almost feels like he’s done something to him.”

Wayne jutted his chin at the styrofoam cup in Hopper’s hand. Hopper frowned and slowly turned it around.

“Oh.”

“You know, I was thinking it’s been a while since I beat your ass at chess,” Wayne said, deadpan. “Why don’t you come over after your shift, I’ll make dinner, we can have a few beers and I can whoop your ass.”

Hopper downed the rest of his cup and crushed in his fist. “Sure thing, Wayne. I’m off at four.”

Wayne stood up and waved goodbye.

Hopper made sure the cup was properly disposed of. Didn’t want to liter, after all.

Hopper pulled into the trailer park sometime after five and Wayne came out to greet him.

“Eddie’s almost done with the burgers,” he said. “Let’s get set up and he’ll bring out the food.”

Hopper led the way to the tables, Wayne following behind, chessboard in hand.

But when they got to the table Hopper stopped dead in his tracks. There sat a badly bruised Steve Harrington, looking down at his hands as if he was expecting another beating.

Hopper went over and knelt in front of Steve, gently tilting his back so Hopper could see the damage. He whistled long and low.

“Your daddy do that you, son?” he asked as gentle as his touch.

Steve nodded.

“You break his nose for the trouble?” Hopper asked.

Steve nodded again.

“Good. Now you tell me everything.”

Wayne set up the chessboard and Steve started talking. Everything just tumbling out about the years upon years of abuse.

Hopper listened, but kept his eyes on the board in front of him so that it was easier for Steve to talk. As if he was talking to himself instead of someone who had the ability to make his life hell.

When Steve was done he looked over at the board and cocked his head.

“He’s got you dead to rights in three moves, Sheriff,” he murmured.

Hopper looked at the board then back up at Steve. “How do you know that?”

“I’m really good at pattern recognition,” Steve said with a shrug, “and the pattern on that board says Wayne is about to kick your ass.”

Hopper looked down at the chess board and cursed, Wayne laughed.

“Better you than me, Stevie,” Eddie said, holding two plates of burgers.

Wayne smiled at his nephew. “Eddie here is more left brained, creative. I don’t mind him not being able to play.”

Eddie smiled softly as he set down the food.

Wayne stood up. “Here let me help you get the buns and condiments.”

Eddie looked over at Steve concerned.

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Come on.”

Eddie let his uncle lead him away, but he looked back over his shoulder at Steve.

Once they were gone, Hopper turned to Steve. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a knight in shining armor.”

Steve frowned. “Who? Eddie? I don’t think he likes me much.”

Hopper chuckled. “Don’t think that’s true.”

Steve just shook his head.

“So that’s quite a story you just told,” Hopper said after a moment.

“You don’t believe me?” Steve asked, his voice wobbling. He had trusted Wayne to bring the sheriff in and now he was just going to be handed over to his dad on a silver plate. He started to breathe heavily.

Hopper leapt over the table and grabbed both of Steve’s hands. “Hey, hey!”

Steve looked at him, his eyes wide with terror.

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Hopper said softly. “It came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, tears starting to form.

“The problem is kid is that your daddy is holding all the cards right now,” Hopper said. “We need some kind of proof he did it.”

Steve nodded. “Would pictures of me after the fight help?”

Hopper looked at him appraisingly. “I guess that depends on what’s in the pictures.”

Steve pulled out the photos from his back pocket. All of them were Polaroids of him in various forms of posing for the camera showing off all the bruises on his back, sides, and face.

Hopper looked at one in particular with a grin. “That dumbass didn’t take off his ring to hit you.”

Steve frowned. “He never does, why?”

Hopper turned to him and his grin got bigger. “That’s a rookie mistake. You see you’re daddy’s ring is unique. One of a kind.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So this is evidence that he beat me?”

“Yup,” Hopper said. “And even if he claims you hit first breaking his nose, this is beyond self defense. This is rage.”

“I’ll be safe?” Steve asked, not quite daring to hope.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Hopper said. He put the pictures in his jacket pocket just in time for Eddie and Wayne to come back.

“Let’s eat!” Wayne said, setting down his haul.

Eddie sat down next to Steve. “You okay?”

Steve looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah. I think for the first time in my life I can say that with some kind of certainty.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked.

Steve bumped his shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

They started to eat and about half way through, Hopper asked, “You got a job, son?”

Steve shook his head. “My last job got blown up.”

Hopper chuckled. “You worked at the mall?”

Steve nodded.

“Anything else you can do besides customer service?” Hopper asked.

“I know a bit about cars,” Steve murmured into his plate. “I know my way around the inside of an engine. It was one thing my dad encouraged me to like until he realized I was good at it.”

Wayne scoffed. “Sounds like Clint all right.”

“I’ve got a cousin that runs a garage,” Hopper said. “I could talk to him about giving you a chance. Once this whole thing blows over I mean.”

Steve lit up. “That would be great.”

Wayne got a calculated look on his face and Hopper smiled.

Eddie gave Steve a sly look. “If you’re good with cars, then take a look at my van and see what’s wrong with it.”

Steve lit up. “I’d love to!” He hurried to finish his food.

“Take easy there, big boy,” Eddie said, laughing. “It’ll keep. I’d rather you didn’t choke.”

Steve blushed, but slowed down eating.

Eddie just shook his head.

Once they finished, Eddie and Steve cleared the table, leaving Wayne and Hopper alone.

“You got a good kid there, Wayne,” Hopper said.

“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” Wayne murmured, “but he’s got the biggest heart I know.”

Hopper nodded. “And it looks as though you’ve picked up another one.”

Wayne chuckled. “It appears to be a Munson trait, picking up lost strays.”

Hopper laughed. “Seems like it.” He stood up and clapped Wayne on the shoulder. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make. And a witch hunt to call off.”

Wayne grinned. “Just let me know if you need my help.”

Hopper nodded.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Tag List: @steve-the-hairrington @satan-is-obsessed @sadcanadianwinter @yearningagain @books-are-my-life-since-1996 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @homohomohoe

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #gay steve harrington #abuse tw #ladykailtiha writes

509 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 22 days

Note

Not sure if you can help but...

I used to write fanfic a lot (not just Johnlock, but other fandoms too) and I got a particularly nasty comment on a fic months back (almost a year ago now I think) that made me delete my entire AO3 and never write anything ever again.

But I miss it so much. And every time I go to write something, the magic is just gone and I get nowhere. It's like any joy I had in writing was just sucked out by one single comment. How do I fix this?

Hey Nonny *SNUGGLE BUGGLE HUGGLE*

I'm so sorry that the "magic" feels gone, and I am so sorry that you had such a terrible experience because of one entitled asshole.

Unfortunately, I am not a professional in this regard, so please take what I say as just a grain of salt and as someone who adores and supports all creatives in this fandom... I've gotten lots of nasty comments over the years, and honestly... I take more joy that I continue on doing what I'm doing and that they're SO bloody bothered by me that I just ignored them... because really that's all you can do online. And sites like AO3 now give you the option to have your fics only be commented on by registered users only, so if you get that hate comment, just report it, block the user, and laugh at them.

I know that it's easier said than done, but to me it seems like you want to do start writing again. I've found that I just stopped caring about who my content is for, because at the end of the day, I'm doing my content for me, and it has the side effect of other people enjoying it too. I've lived long enough to just... not give a shit anymore about asshats online, because honestly they're just sad, bored people who get a sick thrill from riling people up.

BUT AGAIN, Nonny, this might be deeper than "just writing and forgetting about it" because that one comment WAS traumatic for YOU and that's VALID. I think talking to other authors might be beneficial to you to help you overcome that hurdle. FOR ME, I've found just... doing my projects with me as the primary audience does wonders. I love going back to my SUPER old stories and rereading them, because I take a lot of joy in remembering that these worlds were created by me FOR me. And looking at my old art and seeing how much I've improved often is motivation enough for me to carry on.

Actually, thinking back to my college days (OOOOOOF I'm old), we specifically had classes where the profs would rip apart our projects during critique sessions, on purpose, because in the real world, unfortunately, it is stuff you have to deal with in real life and they didn't want us to have our first experience be on-the-job. So I MIGHT be a bit more indifferent to "critiques" than most people, I'm now realizing, so AGAIN, please take what I say with a grain of salt.

That all said, you know what, Lovely? You have a lot more fans than you know, I'm sure, and they'd be thrilled to have you back <3 I REALLY REALLY wish I was better at articulating just how much I really want to see you happy, and how much of the best I hope for you. I know that my words aren't going to make everything better, but I hope they helped a bit.

If there's anyone who struggled to get over that hurdle themselves, please don't hesitate to reply or send me an anonymous message and I'll paste it here so Nonny knows that they're not alone.

And if you do, Nonny, decide to return and post up your stories, I am ALWAYS here to promote them and boost them for you <3

Please take care Nonny, and I hope you continue to write again <3 But KNOW that if you inevitably DON'T, THAT IS OKAY TOO. <3

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #i am not a professional #writing advice #life advice #writer problems #my advice

31 notes · View notes

word-wytch · 5 months

Text

tldr: extremely sappy and vulnerable post ahead

My baby, Don't Stand So Close To Me, turns one year old today.

After a lifelong history of abandoning creative projects, my love for the story I wanted to tell and my newly found passion for the art of writing finally surpassed my fear of rejection, and so I stepped out of the Shire and onto this very long road.

Listen, I know I'm talking about a fanfiction and being very dramatic, but in my opinion every creative endeavor holds the same amount of weight no matter if you're writing books for money, or writing songs for the radio, or songs played only in your bedroom. It all requires you to dig deep and face yourself.

This is the longest and hardest I have ever worked on a creative project in my life.

Over the course of the past year I have come to know myself in a way that I think only writing a novel chapter by chapter for an online community could accomplish. There have been some very dark times, but facing your shadow is always illuminating. Through it, I have grown exponentially both as a writer and as a person.

If I could offer one piece of writing (and life) advice it would be this: Let yourself be where you are. Love yourself here, now. You have been good enough, are good enough, and will be good enough, always. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Your only responsibility is to keep the flame of your joy for creating alive. And that's it. The rest will take care of itself.

I know this is easier said than done. I know this from the painful experience of having believed the opposite about myself at one point.

All artists want to be seen on some level, we need to be. But ultimately, no amount of external validation can supplement the intrinsic love you have for creating. It's even better shared with others, but it comes first from within. I would argue that even if all you had was an idea that made you so giddy that you had to run laps around the room, then you have it all. Your only job is to keep that love alive. It's what I'm chasing every day. More than followers, or notes, or any superficial measure of success. That feeling is everything. The love that I have for my art and this character is everything. The love that I have for myself is, ultimately, everything.

It is a natural part of the journey for all creatives to encounter blocks and adversities, so when it feels like you've lost that joy or you're dragging your forehead against your keyboard in the thick of it, please do not fret. The real secret is that you can never really lose the spark, because you are the spark. You'll feel it again. You're not broken. You haven't failed. Just love yourself anyway and let yourself be where you are, even if that's crying into your ice cream.

Because the gap between how you feel and how you want to feel is not something that once closed, will stay closed forever. It's something you love yourself back to again, and again, and again, and again. And maybe, after your muscles build and your blisters heal, you'll come to enjoy the journey.

For the first time in my creative life I truly feel seen. Thank you all for seeing me, for coming on this journey with me. Thank you to every reader who's left a kind word, every friend that I've made as a result of pursuing this. There are too many to name. I have never been a part of a fan community in this capacity and I feel so unspeakably lucky to have found such a home in this one.

I want to thank, most especially, the people who have both figuratively and literally held my hand throughout the last year behind the scenes. Thank you for sending me coffee, letting me bounce ideas, send massive emails, text feverish voice messages back and forth, keysmash spoilers at you, cry on your shoulder, and fangirl over our boy (and his teacher) @toxicjayhoo @storiesbyrhi @the-unforgivenn @munson-blurbs @jo-harrington @rip-quizilla

I love you.

#dssctm #dssctm updates #updates #personal

69 notes · View notes

waltzingwithspirit · 6 months

Text

REST OF 2023 : PICK A CARD

LEFT: 111 RIGHT: 333

Disclaimer:

This is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest

No one is allowed to copy my work under any circumstances

DM for a personal tarot reading

All personal readings are paid.

🤍111🤍

Many of you need to forgive someone in your life, for your own sake, the resentment and holding on is hurting you by blocking future connections, connections that are good for you, so let go and forgive truly, and move on. Easier said than done, still something that must be done, you do not have to go back to the person, just forgive and move on. You are being told to be an alchemist, use your hurt and sorrow as a fuel to be creative, use your anger into being productive and making something out of yourself. Some of you are anxious, I feel Brahmi Pranayama would help greatly, shut off the world for a few minutes and let you be. Spend at least 15-20 minutes in silence. Once you truly are ready to move on to a better life, ask universe for its help, tell the universe, I want to realise my destiny, take me where need be, I am ready to let all this go, and step into my new life.

Start a new passion project that you have been holding on, instead of jumping in too quick and going viral, put in the work in making a solid foundation, you have been giving this blessing, do not waste it. Some of you will be starting your spiritual journey or undertaking sadhana, be grateful and thankful to have received this opportunity. Know that currently: You are the designer of your life, and the design is in control of the designer. GIVE IT SHAPE. You have everything you need to bring your desires into manifestation. Importantly: Put your resources into something that will give you emotional fulfilment.

Small Warnings: Stay away from greed and arrogance.

Comment ‘111’ to claim.

🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙

🤍333🤍

Read: stopping by the woods on a snowy evening by Robert Frost, and write down what you learned from the poem. This is my spiritual pile, who are in need of guidance, you are looking for a guru/mentor of sorts, and I am here to tell you that spirit is saying that one can learn something from anything, instead of looking for a mentor, learn from your surroundings, if you have the attitude of a student one can learn, but that attitude- attitude of learning is the rarest thing in the world. Simply put: mentors find you when you are ready, you are not ready. Learn from your surroundings, and internalise what you learned, instead of simply understanding it intellectually. Focus on one thing and one thing only, whatever that might be, focus on one lesson at a time. Reduce, Reuse: No impulsive shopping, find multiple uses for one item, try to be as resourceful as possible.

Eat better, more sattvic foods, this will be important in emotional stability, focus on what goes inside your body. The focus here could be on emotional stability, finding yourself, who you are, what your triggers are, understanding your own body better, mastering your emotions. Solid foundation is important here as well, baby steps go a long way, working on. Small triggers and emotional wounds of a long way, this is a life’s work not a season’s, this is just the beginning of your journey, do not take too many things at once or you will get overwhelmed. For some, take the help of a professional therapist.

Comment ‘333’ to claim.

🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙

EL TAROT

124 notes · View notes

marimayscarlett · 2 months

Note

Obviously, I'm just speculating, but taking from what Schneider said last year - I don't think the rest of the guys were ever jealous of Till's solo work. Why would they be? Especially after Emigrate. Richard and Till clearly need a bigger let out than Rammstein can provide, and if it doesn't interfere with Rammstein, then why not? But unlike Emigrate, Lindemann went on tour. Garnered negativity that reflected onto the band. And most importantly, unlike Richard, Till got further away from them. He didn't want to and couldn't spend more time with them as individuals and as a band member. He got a new friend group, new entourage, which integrated into Rammstein and put an even bigger wedge between them. Till even stopped flying with them! And that what might've caused resentment caused by fear. Is Till quitting Rammstein? Is he even still our friend?

And Richard had a fight with Zoran before the backstage bj video which btw was tasteless and lowkey offensive to the band and the crew. Mein Teil is a great video but they've made some masterpieces since then. None of which had to involve sado masochism veiling itself as "being misunderstood".

I've nothing against Till doing what he's doing, he has every right to it but I also believe that last years incident should've been a massive eye opener (not the fucking young women part. He made it very clear with his poem that he doesn't care what we think about that) but that if he wants Rammstein to continue, he cannot lead a double life. Richard managed to separate Rammstein-self and Emigrate-self whilst still maintaining both full time. Till completely failed that, clearly deeply hurting 5 other individuals in the process. It was easier for him to do what he wants and ice everyone out. It's better if they took a long, long break than ruin 30+ year relationship with silence.

As for Zoran. He's just bitter. If post Zoran Rammstein videos are Ali Express, then wtf does that make him? Because no one even knew of him before the band and certainly he's not making any headlines post band. His only saving grace was Till but even then, his Lindemann videos aren't even the best ones..

Hi and thank you for the time and effort you put into writing this out 👋

I will work my way through this message and will add some of my own thoughts to it - this will be subjectiv and not everyone has to agree with everything.

It is true that Till and Richard both needed an additional outlet for their creative processes - the difference is that Till treats his solo project like a normal band and likes to go on tour (Richard mentioned this in one interview once that touring is a vital part for Till's creative life), while Richard treats his more like a studio project. Going out, touring with a stage show like his, putting out videos in this very style which is seen as 'typical Till' by now I might say - all this can serve as a target for misunderstanding, resentment, problems in general.

I do sometimes wonder why he takes these risks (after last summer more than ever). I know he as an artist has his own visions and wants them to come to life, which is his right - but I sometimes ask myself if it's worth it. If it's worth it that others have to deal with the problems his work/behavious has caused. But then again: it's none of my business and he has the freedom to do as he pleases.

I used this ask as an impetus to read Schneider's statement again (something which still triggers me a bit and which i haven't done in over half a year), and Schneider writes this: "Till has distanced himself from us in recent years and created his own bubble. With his own people, his own parties, his own projects. That made me sad, definitely." While I never understood this as being criticism towards Till having his musical side project, I do see it as criticism on how he treats it and how he handles things around it - between the lines there is (at least from my point of view) definitely discontent and concern. So I do believe the band doesn't see anything wrong with having side projects (in Richard's case they were even happy and relieved about it), but maybe in the trend of side projects demanding too much attention or developping possible unpleasant characteristics/outgrowths.

One can only hope that the last year really served Till as a wake up call to overthink some structures which gained influence around him.

"It's better if they took a long, long break than ruin 30+ year relationship with silence." I'm honestly not sure about this and I don't know what good a break would do in this case - since seemingly nothing incriminating had happend, there's no reason for a break in this regard, and maybe, just maybe, it's good for the band to work together this year, in their anniversary year, to actually feel close to each other, to reminisce together, something in this regard.

Regarding Zoran: Like I said in the post I reblogged, I find it highly conceited of him to quite literally say that every thing that came after him music video-wise, every art work from another director is inferior to his work in its quality (hence the 'AliExpress' metaphor). If he really means it that way, it's quite laughable to be honest. In my opinion, he is resting too much on his laurels he garnered from 'Mein Teil' - which admittedly had an immense effect and gave us Frau Schneider, and from "saving" 'Mein Herz brennt', but to say that the music videos of 'Deutschland', 'Adieu' or 'Zeit' are below his standards is mind-boggling to me (if I understand his allusion correctly).

Zoran's Lindemann videos are not my taste, and saying he wanted to express lonliness and insatiableness with a porn-video seems hypocritical and sends out 'oh I'm an artist, of course nobody understands me correctly'-pick me vibes. I'm not surprised that a lot of people who respects their own work didn't want to work with someone anymore who made a project like 'Till the end'.

#rammstein #zoran bihac #till lindemann #ask #personal opinion #this is long and nobody will read my answer but this was interesting to think about again

41 notes · View notes

creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Cross-Hatching

PAIRING: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS + WARNINGS: none, as far as I'm aware

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY: An eye-catching stranger on the train soon becomes your muse when you take out your sketchbook and pencil.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: omg no smut???? Who is she 😩😩😩

Train rides to work would be more tolerable if you weren’t shrinking your entire body to make room for the dozens of people crowding in.

You’re usually lucky when entering; the transit only carries a few passengers when you first enter, and you find yourself a seat. It isn’t until a few stops in do the train doors open to anyone who needs it, and your eyes glance at the map as if it’ll pass any time.

You’re ten stops from your destination when he enters your train car.

A tall figure with a briefcase and a cream coat makes his way through person after person, lucky enough to catch a newly vacant seat near you. Three seats across from yours, to be more precise. After making himself comfortable, he takes a deep breath, running a hand through tufts of onyx hair, trying to clean it up. In a rush, you assume. His attempts do little to fix the mess, but you think the slight wildness suits him—juxtaposing how he carries himself.

You have to draw him.

Practicing anatomy is something you try to do whenever you can, and while drawing strangers isn’t unheard of, you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding. When they’re letting their guard down, someone they don’t know turns that fleeting moment into a memory.

But what they don’t understand is that an artist doesn’t view it like that. And with the stranger sitting only a few seats away, why not take that opportunity?

You’re quick to take out your pencil and mini sketchbook, flipping to a blank page to scratch shapes upon shapes for a human base. You occasionally glance at the map to calculate your remaining time, not wasting a second as every scratch of graphite on paper becomes more and more life-like.

Seven more stops. Your rough sketch is complete, and you erase excess lines and circles of a skeleton.

Five more stops. You fill in the darker spots with cross hatches, creating definition to his cream coat while adding to the mesmerizing mess that is his hair.

Three more stops. Barely done with the shading, and now you move on to all the little details, from the light hitting his glasses to the almost unnoticeable downward curl of his lips. Not upset; just pondering.

One more stop. You rise from your seat, forcing all hesitation out of your system with every step forward.

“Excuse me,” you push the volume into your voice. Blueberry eyes shielded by thick-rimmed glasses peer up at you.

“Yes?” He hums. You almost forget your reason for approaching him, his gaze and soothing voice tempting you to carve every detail into your memory.

Not knowing how long time has passed since anything has been said, you hastily hold the drawing out before him. “I just wanted to give you this.”

You could have said more; you probably should have. Easier said than done when your words jumble around in your head, away from your planned sentences that never got to leave your brain.

The organ then shortcircuits when you catch the corners of the stranger’s lips tilt upwards, his sharp eyes softening as he takes your creation.

“You drew this?” As gentle as his voice may be, you could hear it over the bustling of the crowded train car, your surroundings almost tuned out to give him your devoted attention. You don’t trust yourself to speak properly, so you nod meekly. The ravenette hums again, his focus returning to your portrait of him.

“I’d do a better job if I had more time,” you stammer, suddenly talkative. “I hope I didn’t weird you out or anything—sometimes I like to draw people when I have the chance.”

“No, no,” he insists, peering back at you. “I’m just flattered, is all.” The stranger adjusts his glasses before adding, “Had I known I would be a model, I would have cleaned myself up a bit more.”

You giggle airily: a joke, it must be. “You’re still plenty pretty to draw.”

Your words register with a slap as soon as they leave your lips, and your eyes widen. The man’s expression copies yours, with a soft pink tint caressing his cheeks.

A woman’s voice announces your stop, and you think the gods finally decided to show you some mercy. You barely stutter a goodbye when the train comes to a halt before pushing past whoever stands in your way.

The exhale that leaves your lungs comes out like a squeak when you find your way out of the metro. The opportunity to breathe presents itself as the crowd disperses, heading to the exit or their next train. You join the former group, your interaction with the stranger playing on a loop as you climb the stairs.

“Excuse me.”

A hand lands on your shoulder when you make it to the top. You squeak, whipping your head around to confront the culprit.

Your muse stands before you, his eyes widening ever so slightly in concern.

“Oh,” you relax. “It’s just you.”

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he retracts before holding out his other hand. You turn around to face him; in his hold is your sketchbook. You subconsciously clutch your bag, feeling the emptiness those one-hundred-sixty pages filled. “You left this behind.”

You take a moment to process his words before hastily taking your book back, a string of apologies leaving your lips. “Missed your stop to give this back to me, too.”

The man shakes his head reassuringly. “This was also my stop, actually.”

You two are still at the top of the stairs, hoards of people passing by during your pause in time. You don’t hear whatever they’re saying to each other or on the phone, nor do you notice the impatient ones who emphasize their movements when they walk around you.

“That’s good.” You don’t know what else to say.

“I also thought I should introduce myself,” he continues, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m Akaashi Keiji.” You nod, noticing his fingers fidgeting in their intertwined hold. You almost wonder what they’d feel laced with your own before responding with your name. “I figured I should tell you after you took the time to draw me.”

The man–Akaashi–offers a light smile. Even as stoic as he appeared in the short amount of time you’ve interacted, there’s a soothingness to his voice that has you relaxing your shoulders.

“Right,” you chuckle in embarrassment. “I meant to just give you the drawing, not the whole sketchbook. My bad.”

The stranger shakes his head reassuringly before taking his first step forward. You subconsciously follow him toward the exit, eyes remaining on his portrait.

“I figured as much,” he says, stepping away from the door to let the others pass, and you follow him. He looks down at the sketchbook. "I didn't want to take out the drawing, just in case."

A light breeze fans your face as the sun’s glow kisses your skin. If it weren’t for your new acquaintance standing in the way, you’d have to squint just to see ahead. It’s also here that you realize this is most likely where you part ways, and you refrain from frowning. You selfishly wonder if not bringing it up will make him forget and keep him around. Unfortunately for you, your boss won’t care for your pretty-boy-meet-cute excuse. You mask your sigh of disappointment as any other deep exhale.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to take any more of your time,” you tell him, clutching the strap of your bag. “Thanks again for returning my sketchbook to me.”

“It was no problem, really,” Akaashi insists. “If I could bother you a little more, could you hand me your book and pencil, please? I promise I won’t take long.”

You wouldn’t mind even if he did, but you don’t voice that. Instead, you do as he asked, waiting as he flips through the pages until he stops at one and lightly scribbles something down. Your new acquaintance returns the sketchbook to you with that same page open: it’s the one of him you drew not even ten minutes ago, and next to his head is a series of numbers in between dashes. Your head snaps to look at him once more, eyes wide and face warm.

Akaashi smiles gently. “You’re not obligated to agree to anything, but I’d love it if we could meet up for coffee sometime.” When you continue to stare in bewilderment, he quickly glances at his watch. “I’ll have to leave now, but your portrait of me was a nice start to my morning.” His body slowly turns the other way. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“Wait!” you exclaim before you can stop yourself. Akaashi halts his movements. “I usually give my art to the person I drew. I won’t be able to call you if your number’s on your portrait.”

The ravenette turns his head to face you again, a soft smile gracing his lips and a sharp glimmer in his eyes. “If you want, you can give it to me on our next encounter.”

He leaves you standing there with another goodbye, your feet planted on the concrete, face blooming with heat and sketchbook in hand.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #fanfic #fanfiction #sfw #fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi fluff #fukurodani #haikyuu fluff

192 notes · View notes

pamelasmuse · 8 months

Text

Easier Than Asking

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (reader is a Kook but hangs with the pouges, like Kie, but no one knows she if friends with the pouges.)

Summary: Rafe steals the cross and wont give it back. The pouges convince you to seduce him into giving back.

Warnings: Smut, betrayal, not proof read.

A/N: hope you love it. This is based off a fic I read a while ago. If you know the author tag them below so I can give credit. I also might make this a series, I don’t know, so we’ll see.. I guess you’ll find out when you get to the end.

“Please!” Sarah begged. She was sitting on her bed and you had stood up walking to the door. “Absolutely not.” You turn to her looking at her as if she was insane. She runs over stopping you from opening the door. “You do not understand I wouldn’t ask if there was any other option.” You looked at her and her pleading eyes and you nodded. “Fine…”

She had just asked you the craziest thing. She told you it was something to help her boyfriend John B. You hung out with him and his friends, you enjoyed it. To an extent you really liked them and you were getting closer. So close infact you had kissed JJ last week at some party. But you weren’t sure you were this close.

“Its quite the favor.” She said. “I need you to get the cross from Rafe.” At first it didn’t seem so bad, you had, had a crush on Rafe since elementary school. So spending some extra time with him didnt seem so bad. Until she continued. “He wont just give it to you.” You scoffed “So what do you want me to do, do you want me to like tie him up until he gives me the cross.” She looked at you. “Oh my god you do.” You lauged.

“Well kinda.”she paused. “Well just use whatever you think is necessary. You kind of have creative liberties.” She looked at you. And thats how you ended up at the door. Being guilt tripped into stealing from her murderous brother, her hot murderous brother.

After you had agreed Sarah drove you over to John Bs house so they could brief you on the “mission”. You sat uncomfortably on the sofa outside. JJ was on your left and Sarah on your right. “Thank you, by the way.” John B said as he sat in-front of you. The rest of the pouges also chirping in.

You sighed “I just do not get why no one else could do it. Why not you?” You motion to JJ. He smiles at you. “Well princess I am not liked by a certain someone.” “The pouges have tried to get it back, but Rafe wont give if to us.” John B motions at the rest of the pouges. “And he knows Sarah is with us.” You nod, now understanding.

“So how am I supposed to get him alone?” Kie shifts so she is now facing you. “Flirt with him.” She tells you. You roll your eyes. “You are fucking kidding me.” You sigh. “God why cant I just do something normal, like talk to him?” Sarah moves in her seat. “Rafe tried to drown me the other night.” You gasp. “Are you okay S?” She nods. While touching he neck she begins again. “Rafe wont listen to talking, remember he’s a little crazy.” Everyone laughs. “But I know Rafe and he would never hurt a girlfriend, not that you have to go that far.

“Okay, fine but how am I supposed to I don’t know, talk to him, meet him?” “Well lucky for you the kooks are having some bash tonight and your already on the list.” Pope tells you. Sarah can feel your anxiety so she puts a hand on your shoulder. “Ill be there too, so you can back out whenever you want.” She rubs your shoulder. “But don’t because we really need this.” John B adds. Sarah slaps his knee and glares at him. “Sorry.” He apologizes.

You left John Bs with a plan. Sarah dropped you off at your house. You paced for hours. Trying to rationalize what you had just done. And then finally it was 6 and Sarah came over. She helped you pick out an outfit. You picked a blue swimsuit, and a tan cover up. And then finally you were off.

By the time you got to the beach it was packed. Everyone on the entire island was there.

Okay… i was going add more but then i got writers block so here it is… maybe part 2

#rafe x y/n #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks #outer wilds #jjk season 2 #jj maybank #sarah cameron

95 notes · View notes

vinvantae · 2 years

Note

can you do like a part two to this !! be however creative you want to be i’m sure it will be amazing i love your writing thank you !!

Of course! Thank you so much for the request and the support, means a lot x

Sticking with the charles x reader pairing for this 🧡 hopefully this one feels a lot better than the last. You can find the previous part here !

******************************************************

You held your helmet under your arm as you made your way towards the track, a bounce to your step. It was your first race back after the accident and you’d managed to get into Q3, meaning a points finish was in your grasp. Had you come back a little earlier than you should have? Yes. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that would stop you getting back into the car. And your Q3 performance had shown that.

Charles had practically begged you to take another week or two off, but he knew as soon as you laid your eyes on someone else in your car when you visited during FP1, there was no way to stop you. Your fellow Monegasque had been practically glued to your side whenever he could - between races he was with you and was keeping to his promises he made to apologise.

You told him it wasn’t necessary, but every time he showed up at your flat with a bottle of the expensive spirit you liked or with an activity planned, you couldn’t help yourself. The two of you had always been close but in a twisted way, the fact he’d nearly killed you had definitely brought you closer. And you hated more than anything that the feelings you’d pushed down for years were starting to fight to get to the surface.

He seemly found any excuse to touch you, wether it was something as small as a playful nudge to tilting your chin up with his finger so he could take an eyelash from your cheek. The touches were intimate. And the way he looked at you made you weak at the knees, had he always looked at you like this?

The dark blush that crept up your neck and face when Ted found Charles stood with you beside your car was undeniable. “And here we have our favourite duo, welcome back y/n.”

“Thanks Ted, glad to be back.”

“And I hate to be that guy, but Charles, you know you’re on the front row and this isn’t your team right?” He hummed, quirking his brow in a playful way like he knew something you didn’t.

Charles nodded, letting an arm come to drape over your shoulder. “Gotta check on her before I let her get back in the car y’know? My fault that she’s not been here and-“

“Charles.” You scolded, he looked down at you - eyes locking with yours. “We’ve talked about this, it wasn’t your fault.”

His baby blues flickered over your face and his lips curved up into a small smile.

“Well, we better leave them to it.” Ted teased, making both of you lose eye contact and step apart - Charles’ cheeks as pink as yours. “Good luck today, y/n. You’ll smash it.”

As the presenter walked away Charles pulled you into a tight hug. “Please be careful today. And try and stay away from me.”

“Mhmm.” You sunk into his hold. “Easier said than done.”

His chuckle rumbled through you and he left to go to his car, throwing you a signature Charles wink as he did. As much as you knew you should drive carefully, it just wasn’t in your nature and now you had points for the team in sight - it simply wasn’t going to happen.

And as much as everyone rooted for you to have a nice clean, safe race - with some battles you were beyond proud of, you managed to get P5. Beating not only your teammate but several much faster cars. Charles had another podium under his belt but he was much prouder of you, sprinting over to your car after you got out to sweep you up in a hug.

“Oh my god, y/n! P-fucking-5!” He laughed. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your fellow driver put you down and you both pulled off your helmets, big smiles on both of your faces.

“I can’t believe I just did that… I fucking beat 15 other drivers.” You bounced on the spot with glee.

“I can. You’re fantastic. Now, I have to go, but me and you are gonna celebrate this until this sun comes up tomorrow.”

He gave you another hug before jogging over to his interview, realising he had duties to fulfil. You practically ran back to your garage, everyone cheering as you stepped through the doors - Val had the proudest look on his face and he held his arms open for a hug, not something he did often so you took the chance and squeezed the Finn tight.

“Great job, y/n. That was fantastic.” He said, patting you on the back.

Your attention was drawn away when an engineer turned your attention to Charles’ interview.

“Charles. Absolutely fantastic race, some solid points for the championship. How do you feel?”

The Monegasque smiled. “Obviously I’m very happy with the result but I’ll be real, I’m far happier with y/n’s result. She did an absolutely fantastic job and after everything she’s been through I couldn’t be prouder of her.”

Your cheeks flushed a dark pink.

“Y/n has always been absolutely fearless. Even when we were kids, she was always the one to take the lead. Do the things the other kids were scared to do, or make the move that we thought was impossible… so to see her overcome this and come back even stronger is incredible.” He continued, not realising just how much he was gushing until he saw the look on the entire paddock’s faces. Knowing looks in everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t just talking about someone he was just friends with. “But uh… yeah. Happy for me, happier for her.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and giggled softly, Val squeezed your shoulder and you looked to him. “He’s right. What you did today was amazing… however, I think there’s a lot more he wants to say to you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “We’re going out to celebrate tonight, hopefully I can get him alone… there’s a lot I want to say to him too.”

“Good luck, kid.”

You almost thought when Charles had said celebrate, he’d mean going out clubbing and dancing but instead you found yourself being hauled to the fanciest restaurant, heels already hurting your feet. He’d booked you a table out of sight from most of the other patrons and the two of you shared a bottle of champagne.

“Here’s to your p5, first race back and just… you.” Charles held his first glass towards you, the soft chime of your glass against his rung in your ears.

“That was some pretty cheesy stuff you said up there, y’know.” You teased softly. “You really think all that?”

He nodded and took your free hand in his. “Nearly losing you made me think of just how lucky I am to have you in my life, y/n.”

“I’m lucky to have to have you as well.” You smiled, squeezing his hand.

“You would’ve never had that accident if-“

“I’d also not be in this sport. I wouldn’t have Pierre. I wouldn’t have all the opportunities I had if I didn’t have you.” You cut him off. “If it wasn’t for you, alfa Romeo wouldn’t have even considered having a girl let alone me join the team.”

“That’s-“

“It is true. I have no doubt in my own talent but doesn’t change the facts. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“…there’s one thing though. One thing I wish I’d realised without you having your accident.” He said, sounding a little breathless. “I… I’m in love with you. And I’m so sorry it took me nearly killing you to realise that.”

“Charles…”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I-“

“I’m in love with you too…” you whispered. “Just, didn’t want to scare you away.”

He smiled softly and shuffled his chair around so he could wrap his arm around you and pull you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Something he’d done since you were kids but this time it felt different.

“You’d never scare me away. I wish I’d realised sooner just how important you were to me, I’d do anything for you.”

“You have been doing everything for me.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Because I nearly killed you.”

“…there’s one thing you haven’t done that I’d like you to.” You locked eyes with him, and the first time - you didn’t blush, you knew exactly what you wanted, needed, from him.

And he did too. He lent in and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. It was slow, every movement was intentional. You always wondered what kissing him would be like and now you’d found out, you never wanted to stop.

So it was no surprise that you whined softly as he moved away, nudging his nose against yours as he did. The sweetest smile was toying with his lips.

“If all I had to do was crash with you to get a kiss, why have we not done it before?” You giggled softly, brushing your lipstick from his lips with your thumb.

“Because I was too blind to see what I had in front of me until I nearly lost it.” He whispered softly. “And I never, ever want to lose you.”

When he kissed you again, you hummed contently and sunk into it. The crash wasn’t the first incident the two of you would have on track, and certainly wouldn’t be the last - but knowing that that he loved you the same way you loved him, was truly something special.

*****************************************************

Consider this absolute cheese fest as an apology for the angst of part one 🧀 hope you enjoyed!

@itsmycorneroftheinternet @laura-naruto-fan1998 @marianadj99 @tall-tanned-tattoo @wonderlandofsu @monodreme @theplobnrgone @witchy-whore @gipsyd @feminismisaflawlessbitch @pukklv @walkonthewiidside @reallydeadpoet @shes-unwell-babe @eniram-du @eitak-t @itsbwoken @adiaz-25 @sraholland @readerselegance @danielricciardo3f1 @ujisworld @withyoutilltheendofthismess @alternativemadchen @sad-fridge2323 @haterpenny @awaterfalls @miahelen @heyitskay-21 @f1thirsttraps @jamieolivia27 @spngi @mpolarisblack @cringe-kats @dudde-44

@letsthedogpackandthecats @stampiej @whatssupeef @lightsoutpierre @cam-blog98 @manuosorioh @sugardontbesweet @lovingroscoee @skyslowalking @samsationalwilson @dr3lover @fic-for-readers @guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #Charles Leclerc x reader #x reader #Charles Leclerc x you #Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #f1

701 notes · View notes

silentwillowwhisperer · 1 year

Text

We were robbed of this

Guys Keith and Allura are besties. I hate that they only had an interaction when dream works needed her to create racial drama for him. And once they make up, they go back to being distant.

———————-

Does Keith have a random collection of art supplies hidden in his closet?

Nope.

He goes to Allura’s room instead. Thanks to their shared experiences and mutual feelings of unbelonging, they’re actually best friends. (Shiro and Coran are family, so don’t worry, they aren’t being replaced.)

Allura practices hairdos and makeup on Keith while he puts her untouched art supplies to use and spills his guts to her. It’s a win-win, Keith gets things off his chest that he can’t say to anyone else, and Allura gets all the gossip.And, of course Allura shares a bit, but she finds it easier to listen to others and find comfort in that.

Which is why she feels horrible betrayal crawling through her gut when Shiro and Keith got to the Marmora base and won’t tell her anything anymore.

She knows it’s because he’s worried that he’ll crack and gush everything to her ( can never keep secrets from the princess) but she doesn’t understand what could be so bad that he doesn’t want to get advice from her.

It feels like she’s losing him.

She finds out that he is half Galra and explodes internally. Not only had she told the enemy her darkest secrets, but she actually valued him.

It had to be a mistake, or maybe Keith is even faking it to cover up something else.

But the deep hurt that floods his eyes any time she looks at him is very clearly genuine.

She’s never seen him looks so wounded. Wait, yes she has. He looks like this when he talks about his dad running into a flaming building and leaving him behind forever without a second thought.

And Keith has been getting more stressed without a creative outlet as well, and the whole team notices the tension when Keith makes it past level 183 on the training simulator.

Lance has gotten more protective and it is common to see him with an arm around Keith protectively and sending Allura loathing looks.

Keith and Allura make up when she realizes how crappy she’s been but doesn’t know how to apologize as sincerely as he deserves.

She takes her chance after Keith announces to the team that he and Lance are are officially dating. Allura had known about Keith’s crush for a long time now, longer than Shiro.

Allura slides up to Keith during dinner.

“So. You did it. Make sure you hang on to him, he seems like a good one.”

As the resident lesbian of the castle, Allura does not understand the men she is surrounded by, but Keith is the only one willing to indulge in ‘girl time.’

When Keith only raises an eyebrow at her sudden interest in him, she starts blabbing apologies.

“I’ll never be able to make it up to you, you deserved absolutely none of my crap, but ple-“

She’s cut off by Keith hugging her. One thing about Keith is that his surprisingly small frame makes him great for hugging. He almost seems delicate like this.

His voice wobbles when he speaks, which drives a stake through Allura’s heart.

“It’s alright. I just missed my alien twin bestie. You’ve already done so much more for me than you think.”

Lance has clearly gotten to him, but Allura ignores that. She’s just happy to have her friend back.

(His weird habit of mimicking other people’s behaviors just comes was part of him.)

————————-

I think platonic love is SO important.

Side note: Someone said the word delicate to my art teacher today, and THIS QUEEN starts singing the song, and agh I started singing it too, and I love her so much, she SLAYS.

#allura #vld #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #voltron #klance #keith vld #vld keith #allura vld #allura voltron #tawny post

99 notes · View notes