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nanowrimo · 3 months

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How a First-Timer Wrimo Landed Literary Representation

NaNo participant Demi Michelle Schwartz shares her story on how NaNoWriMo helped her sign on with a literary agent! She also offers some lessons she learned from taking on the challenge — and maybe it'll inspire you too!

Are you an author with dreams of being represented by a literary agent? If so, I’m here to tell you that NaNoWriMo played a key role in my journey to signing with my agent, Michelle Jackson at LCS Literary.

I received an offer on the manuscript I drafted during my first NaNoWriMo in 2022. Fun fact, I signed my contract during November in 2023, exactly a year after writing the book. Reflecting back, there were choices I made that I hope will give you insight into how your NaNoWriMo project could lead to securing representation.

Stepping Outside My Comfort Zone

I’ve been an avid reader of young adult mysteries and thrillers ever since middle school. For this reason, I naturally gravitated to those genres when I started writing books. Still, I’ve grown to appreciate all genres from my MFA in Writing Popular Fiction program at Seton Hill University, a top one being fantasy. When I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo, I stepped outside my comfort zone and drafted a young adult Little Red Riding Hood reimagining with Greek mythology.

Exploring a different genre led to me writing the book that got me my agent. So, if you’re interested in taking the NaNoWriMo challenge, consider trying something new. Along the way, you’ll expand your creative horizons.

Planning Before Taking the Challenge

Something I noticed after participating in NaNoWriMo twice now is that planning my books led to me feeling invested in them. As authors, we always have ideas bouncing around in our heads. Some stick, and others don’t. Taking time to explore my characters, plot, world, and more made me realize how much I loved what I was creating. Before I even started writing on November 1, I felt passionate about my story.

When you’re pitching agents, your goal is to sell your story. Having such a strong belief in your manuscript will allow you to authentically query it. Passion shines through, and if you care about your book, an agent may fall in love with it, too.

Taking Time to Receive Feedback and Revise

I can’t stress enough how important it is to receive feedback on your work and do several rounds of revisions. Once you draft a book during NaNoWriMo, it may be difficult to resist the temptation to send it out right away. Rather than querying a manuscript that isn’t ready, channel your eagerness to share your work into finding critique partners and beta readers.

For my manuscript, I did a revision on my own after winning NaNoWriMo. Then, I received critiques, made edits, and repeated this process until I felt my manuscript was ready. I queried my agent in August, and she offered me representation at the end of October. I truly believe the time and effort I put into polishing my book led to getting many full requests and my offer.

If I would have pitched the draft from NaNoWriMo, I’m 100 percent sure my email would have been flooded with only rejections. So, remember to take your time revising. The wait will be worth it when you begin receiving positive responses to submissions.

Now that it’s a new year, there’s a long runway before November arrives. It’s never too early to start planning your NaNoWriMo project. Since this challenge gave me the opportunity to draft the book that made one of my dreams come true, I hope you feel inspired to take a strategic approach to your NaNoWriMo project and give it wings to soar in the publishing world.

Demi Michelle Schwartz is a young adult fantasy and thriller author from Pittsburgh, PA, represented by Michelle Jackson at LCS Literary. After earning BAs in Creative Writing and Music from Seton Hill University, she went on to pursue her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill and graduated with her degree in June of 2022. When Demi isn’t working on her manuscripts, she’s busy chasing her other dream as an award-winning songwriter and recording artist.

Check out her website, Twitter, and Instagram!

Header photo by Negative Space.

#nanowrimo #now what #writing #nanowrimo experience #publishing #by nano guest #demi michelle schwartz

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lost-in-lamentation · 11 months

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a/n: oh, how good it feels to be writing again. welcome to my corner; i hope you enjoy your stay.

content: the poor brothers need your presence. you/your pov. gn!reader x lucifer, mammon. (separate). 1.5k words.

warnings: the kitchen almost catches fire. the boys cry just a lil. mammon has some doubts about himself. (also, proofreading does NOT go brr, we die like men.)

there were so many things that could weigh down a poor demon’s mind; brothers who lacked self-restraint, and others who had too much of it. there was paperwork to be finished, and projects to be refined. games were made to be finished 100 percent, and books were written so they could be read front to back. money was for spending, and food was to be devoured. lipstick was made to leave marks on mirrors, and of course, pillows were fluffed up so they could be flattened at night (and during the day, in some cases). so many problems in this world for few people, and yet, for all said problems, there was only one cure. you.

═ ˎˊ˗

lucifer.

the silence that came from the kitchen was unsettling. lucifer had already warned you not to disturb his cooking duties, but his anger be damned. you were worried enough that he looked like he had been awake for 4 days straight, and a mess in the kitchen from a sleep deprived demon was not what you wanted to see. not to mention, beel’s stomach growled louder with every passing second. if you were going to deal with an angry demon, you’d rather risk lucifer’s stone cold gaze than beel's hunger pangs.

“lucifer,” you called as you pushed the door open. “beel’s getting… restless.” your words trailed off as your mind attempted to unpack the scene in front of you. there was no mess, which was a relief. however, there was a fire in the pot on the stovetop. the eldest of seven only stared at it in silence. “lucifer!” rushing over, you snatched the lid of the pot before moving it off the heat and attempting to suffocate the flame inside. eyebrows furrowed, you turn to lucifer, slowly waving a hand in front of his face. his red eyes were glassy, holding no light in them. “lucifer,” you repeated for the third time. concern took root in your stomach when he still made no effort to move. after a few moments, you left his side, calling satan to finish cooking duties while you manoeuvred the avatar of pride up to his room. the thought of lucifer being mad that you dragged him around bounced in your head briefly before landing in a soft cushion you liked to call denial.

shaking off the idea, you sat lucifer down on the edge of his bed, bending down on one knee to take a clear look at his face. softly, as though you were cradling a swan made of glass, you placed his head in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “luci? come back now, it’s just us.” you had done this before; the last time you witnessed it happen was after lucifer had come home after an argument with diavolo about RAD. a stack of papers on lucifer’s desk stole your attention. with pursed lips, you moved one hand away from his face and slid it onto his waist. “what’s diavolo got you up to now, hm?” your thumb pressed gently into his side, and slowly, you began to see his eyes focusing onto yours.

when he finally came to, his sigh of relief and the way he pressed his cheek into your palm did not go unnoticed. “MC. i apologise, i haven’t been in my right mind these days.” as quickly as lucifer had searched for your warmth, he pulled away from you, one hand brushing yours away from his side.

“you’re telling me,” you chuckled, leaning back onto your heels. “you know you almost set the kitchen on fire?”

the avatar of pride was not feeling very prideful at the moment. “it was strange.” lucifer decided to have a staring contest with the floor. “i knew i had to do something, and yet, i couldn’t bring myself to move.”

your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the first tear slip away from the corner of his eye.

“it’s even more strange,” lucifer whispered, voice threatening to break at any moment, “that i would allow myself to feel so vulnerable around my attendant.” his knuckles turned white from how hard he clenched his fists. lucifer threw his head back, a pained laugh echoing through the room, painting the walls with desperation. you could only wait for his next words with your heart in your throat. when he brought his gaze down to meet yours, a perfect, fake smile overtook his expression. “MC,” he said softly. you waited in silence.

“MC,” he cried, throat tearing at the seams.

acting quick, you moved to envelop him in your arms, one hand pressing into his back and the other running through his hair. you pushed against him, forcing him to lay down. when you both hit the bed, lucifer immediately sought solace in the crook of your neck, his hands grasping at the back of your shirt as sobs wreaked havoc on his body. you responded by pressing your cheek onto the top of his head. “i’m here, lucifer. i’m not going anywhere.”

═ ˎˊ˗

mammon.

“yo, MC!”

“mammon?” light flooded into your room against your will, forcing you to squint and continuously tap your night stand in search of your d.d.d. 1:37am. “gods, it’s almost two in the morning, mammon.” you huffed in annoyance, throwing your d.d.d. onto your pillow before falling back onto the bed and drowning yourself in blankets. “at least close the door if you’re gonna stay here,” you groaned.

“okay, first off.” mammon huffed right back at you as he closed the door, “we are in the devildom, there are no gods. second-”

at the second eldest’s remark, you grabbed your free pillow and threw it at his face. “fine, fine. DEVILS, it’s almost two in the morning.” mammon let out an unrefined squawk when the pillow made contact with him. you could barely stifle your laughter underneath your comforter.

“MC, you aren’t funny.” mammon yanked the covers off your face, and it was only then that you saw the annoyance and misery etched into his expression. you decided not to ask about it directly, instead choosing to wonder what mammon wanted to say second.

raising your hands in defeat, you gave mammon a sympathetic look. “i think i’m pretty funny, but whatever you say.” the avatar of greed sent you an unimpressed glare before moving to quite literally sit on you. “oof- mammon! you’re heavy, get off me!” mammon’s shoulders bounced with laughter briefly before he slid off your stomach and into the spot next to you. “ugh. anyways, what were you gonna talk about earlier?”

“oh, yeah, get this.” mammon cleared his throat as though he was about to tell you the greatest story ever. that’s what you wanted, at least. it’s not what you got.

“so i was over at the fall, right?” humming your acknowledgment, you turned onto your side so the two of you were face to face.

“there was this crew of demons, they were all wearing matching jackets and everything. it honestly looked kinda strange, but everyone else there was totally raving about them. i have to admit, their leather jackets looked like they were high quality too. definitely not the ones you could find in those small clothes shops.”

“are you going to spend the whole night fan-boying over them?” you murmured, a hand reaching up idly to play with the hair that draped over mammon’s forehead.

he scoffs in indignance at your reaction. “oi, shut it. and stop playing with my hair, you’re distracting me.” you hummed again before dropping your head and allowing mammon to continue.

“so, basically, long story short, i think they were some sort of gang. asmo warned me about those when at the fall, didn’t think i’d ever see them myself. but then, they came up to me. and can you believe what they started saying? they were acting all high and mighty, sayin’ stuff like, ‘oh, it’s just the second born. the scummy one.’ i don’t even know where it was coming from!”

slowly, you moved your hand closer to his own, tapping your fingertips on his. as if it was second nature, mammon grabbed it immediately, fingers intertwining and fiddling as he continued to speak. “i mean, can you imagine? saying all that about THE great mammon? it’s not like they know me, right? they don’t know what it’s like being second after lucifer. they don’t know what it’s like to actually fall, right?” mammon stopped playing with your hand, opting instead to look you in the eye. “right…?” he practically whimpered the question under his breath, gold eyes turning to sapphire as the tears began to well up. “please, MC,” he begged, his breaths becoming more ragged. “they don’t know, right?”

you felt your heart sink at the question. with a nod, you opened your arms to him and pulled his trembling frame into your embrace. “they’re just jealous, mammon. they don’t know you at all, and everything they say is wrong.”

mammon’s arms tightened around your back, his breathing shallow and his tears never-ending.

“don’t you worry about them,” you whispered into his ear, your hands slowly working their own kind of magic along his back. “everyone that should know what you’ve done for them already knows.” mammon released a sob into your shoulder before trying to press further into your touch. you didn’t stop him. “after all, you are the great mammon, right? you may be the second brother, but you’ll always be my first man.” a shaky laugh replaced his cries briefly, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your face into his hair in return. “that’s my mammon,” you purred softly, holding him close until he fell asleep.

and that's it for first post. hope you enjoyed it if you're here at the end ♡

#obey me #otome #obey me mammon #obey me luficer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me swd #obey me luci x reader #obey me comfort #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me fluff #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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lovelytsunoda · 8 months

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goldeneye // pierre gasly (secret agent au!)

summary: she’s high ranking mi-6, and he’s the french intelligence thorn in her side. but to take down international arms dealer christian horner, they may need to work together, or risk losing their target altogether

pairing: pierre gasly x female secret agent! reader

warnings: typical spy movie things (knives, physical violence, espionage, christian horner is the bad guy, fashionable weaponry and gadgets), pierre gets a bad rap for being french. allusions to sex, fake marriage trope , goes from 0 to 100 real fucking fast.

see reflections on the water // m ore than darkness in the depths // see him surface in every shadow // on the wind I feel his breath // goldeneye, I found his weakness // goldeneye, he'll do what I please // goldeneye, no time for sweetness // but a bitter kiss will bring him to his knees

part i: the chateau

the echo of her high heels against the floor was deafening as she strode across the chateau, attempting to ignore the chattering of voices around her.

parties had never been her thing, especially not ones frequented by europes top criminal masterminds.

“no eyes on horner and we’ve been here for an hour.” she muttered quietly, hoping that the earpiece could pick up her voice as she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter “and my feet fucking hurt in these shoes. why couldn’t you have sent lewis in?”

“because horner knows my face. my op got blown last year.” lewis sighed. “you were still working in the lab, so very few people outside the agency know who you are.”

she wasn’t a field agent, she shouldn’t be there at all. she’d graduated top of her class from cambridge with a degree in mechanical engineering, and she basically kept mi-6 from falling apart. every time an agent credited a gadget with saving their life, there was a ninety percent chance the gadget was one of hers.

but alas, after project silver arrow had gone belly-up, and special agent lewis hamiltons identity was touted to the red bull conglomerate, lead by none other than international arms dealer christian horner, and agent george russell was shot in the shoulder on mission in budapest, she was the only agent left who’s identity was still a secret.

three weeks of training later and she was here in france, wearing stilettos that head heels that doubled as knives, in a billowing green dress that made her stick out like a sore thumb.

it was no secret that horner has a wandering eye, despite being married to one of the biggest pop stars of the mid nineties. after all else had failed, the agency wondered if a honey trap would be the best way to catch the man in the act.

frankly, the thought of getting into bed with him made her feel sick to her stomach.

"turn your head slowly, look at the man in the black suit, three oclock." lewis' voice crackled to life. "he's been watching you all night, and i'm not getting good vibes."

she turned her head, almost gagging on her champagne.

"i said turn your head slowly, kiddo. he's probably harmless, but just in case, i don't want him knowing you're on to him."

catching her eye, the man in the suit took off down a side hallway, abruptly brushing past three waiters in the process and knocking a platter of oysters to the floor.

"that was odd." lewis mused. "i know you'll want to follow him, so just keep a safe distance. do not engage the target."

"what if he's going straight to horner?" she worried, hurrying as much as she could on stiletto heels to follow the mystery man out of teh chateau.

"keep your cool and use the panic button if you have to."

she marched down the hallway, leaving her empty champagne bottle on a tray next to the revolving kitchen door as she balled up her dress skirt, pulling it away from her heels as she made her way down the hall.

she found the man outside, he was leaning against a stone balcony. from underneath the layers of fine italian craftsmanship he was wearing, it would take a fool to miss how broad and built the man was.

"stay away from horner." he spoke with a thick french accent, his voice carrying over the breeze as she walked towards him. "he's dangerous. you don't know what you're getting into."

she raised an eyebrow, settling in next to him against the balustrade, rock warm against her bare hands. "who is it that you think i am?"

"does it matter? a wannabe model, a movie star. the kind of bullshit that clings to fame and fortune, no matter what the cost, and you end up getting taken advantage of along the way. trust me, christian horner would eat you alive." he turned to look at her and she got a glimpse of his sad eyes, the stubble around his jawline. the poof of his brunette hair. "so leave while you still can, mon cher."

“bait him, y/n.” lewis encouraged. “find out what he knows, but do not give yourself away.”

she took a deep breath, sitting on the balustrade and crossing one leg over the other, fingers tapping against the heels of her shoes. “what if I know exactly what I’m getting into? christian horner is a very wealthy, very powerful man. i know about jeddah, and I know about lusail.”

lusail had been the base for project silver arrows. horner had been attempting to sell arms to rebel groups in qatar, and lewis had been attempting to pose as a foreign buyer, hoping to stop the sale. obviously the operation hadn’t gone according to plan.

there was a rustle from the man as he reached into his suit jacket, and she barely had time to think before she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

“who the fuck do you work for? are you one of his?”

“i should be asking who the hell you are.” she growled, yanking the blade right out of her shoe, pointing the sharp-tipped tool at the frenchman

“you first.”

“not a chance in hell. we draw credentials at the same time or not at all.”

the frenchman caught the bait, reaching into his jacket pocket as she reached down the bodice of her dress for her own identification.

“oh fuck me to the moon and back.” she cussed, seeing what was printed on his id card.

pierre gasly, french intelligence

part two: the compromise

they sat in a debriefing room in french intelligence headquarters. everything about the room screamed old money, right down the the heavy wooden roundtable they sat around. y/n was wedged between Lewis and george, staring daggers at pierre as their handler paved the room.

“if this bitch hadn’t followed me out of the chateau, horner would be awaiting trial at The Hague!”

her jaw dropped. “if I hadn’t followed you? if I hadn’t thought you were suspicious, I wouldn’t have had to! we had a plan.”

it wasn’t a plan she had liked, but it was a plan.

“if your agency hadn’t bungled the lusail operation, we e wouldn’t even be here right now!”

“you fucking take that back you baguette fucker!” she shouted, getting to her feet. “we did everything right in lusail!”

that was when it was decided that enough was enough. lewis grabbed for her arm, a silent plea to stop making a scene. george snickered, laughter hidden behind his fist and disguised as a cough as y/n and pierre glared daggers at each other over the table.

pierres eyes cut deep. she felt like he could see into her entire soul, while his own eyes put up such a wall between his face and his own soul. she felt like he could see everything about her, and yet she couldn’t see him at all.

damn those ocean eyes. damn the jolt of something that passed through her body when she fell under his gaze.

“enough!” her handler shouted, finally done pacing the room. peter bonnington glared at the duo, a flash of pure fury crossing his face. “this situation is fucked for all of us. two foreign agencies are t supposed to be working the same target at the same time, so clearly some wires got crossed.”

“no shit.” george laughed. “god, I’ve never been so happy to be on medical leave.”

“shut the fuck up, russell.” she crossed her arms over her chest, flopping down into her rickety wheeled chair.

across the table, pierres handler crossed his own arms over his chest. laurent rossi was a stoic man, tall and refined, but with a penchant for beating around the bush. the faces within mi-6 thought he was a bit of a pompous git.

“we have a solution.” laurent proposed. “our best chance at catching horner and getting him off the streets is to work together.”

pierre gawked. pierre gasly was nobody’s partner. a line wolf, and he had been ever since his partner was killed back on the last op they worked together, bringing down one of horners associates in austria.

and that’s why getting horner was so important.

for charles.

“not on your life.” he snarled at laurent. “I work alone.”

“if you expect me to work well with him, you must be on lsd.”

despite himself, pierre liked her take-no-shit, speak your mind attitude shown by the young british agent. why, he wondered to himself, had she spent so long as a desk agent when she could match wits with the best of the field agents.

“the decision has been made.” bono boomed. “and an arrangement has been made for you both to stay at horners chateau this upcoming weekend.”

“what’s the catch?” pierre questioned. “this sounds too easy.”

laurent chuckled. “ah, this is the part that you both will hate me for.”

“you’ll go in as interested buyers. a married couple, to be specific.”

part three: the ruse

the vintage cadillac trundled down the long country drive to christian horners french estate. the pair were already dressed to match their cover stories: he was in a tasteful linen shirt and khakis, and she was in a silk floral sundress.

she opened a small velvet box in her lap, extracting the diamond earring that acted as an earpiece, connecting her back to lewis and george.

pierre watched through the corner of her eye as she connected the earpiece, radioing in to home base to let them know she was all ears.

“that’s a good idea, hiding the earpiece in the earring. it’s less detectable.” the frenchman hummed

“i know, i designed it. it was originally supposed to be for lewis, since he has so many piercings and it would have blended right in.”

she tapped on the fake diamond to activate the earpiece, sending Pierre a look to remind him that all their conversations would now be recorded onto an mi-6 server.

“you nervous?”

“no.” she lied, fiddling with the brim of her straw hat, a small camera tucked under the band.

but she was nervous. more nervous than she had ever been in her life.

she was about to get up close and personal with the most dangerous man in europe and she was going to lie about who she was. one misphrased question could be the difference between life and death.

“I’m sure you’re going to be fine, and if you get nervous, just let me take the lead. this is how we profiled horner, hes going to use me as the point of contact.” pierre reminded her “which means that you get to do all of the fun sneaking around espionage kinda things.”

the frenchman let his hand drip down towards her leg, thumb gently running along her skin. she reddened under his touch, unable to deny the butterflies in her stomach at the gentle and reassuring way that he touched her.

when they got out of the car, beginning to follow the path up to the chateau while horners handmaidens grabbed their luggage from the car, Pierre’s hand on her back was a comfortable guide, and she couldn’t deny the heat on her skin underneath his touch, hidden by the shadow cast by the wide brim of her hat.

maybe pretending to be pierre gaslys wife wouldn’t be so bad after all.

they walked up the crest of a hill to a large stone patio surrounded by plants, no doubt planted by horners wife. there was nobody around except for a man in a crisp navy button down shirt, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he stared off into the distance, his back towards the agents.

“ah, you must be the wolffs! i saw the two of you coming up to driveway. apologies for how long it is, i like a little bit of privacy.” the figure chuckled, spinning around to face them.

there he was. christian horner, in the flesh.

“let’s get this meeting started then, shall we?”

part four: for queen and country

she stood in the ensuite bathroom, smoothing out the front of her dress as she exhaled, staring at herself in the mirror. she felt pretty, seductive, even, but she didn’t think she could play this part. be this person that the agencies depended on her being.

and maybe there was also a part of her that was worried about looking good for pierre.

maybe this wasn’t a bad thing after all. wasn’t this what espionage was; faking it until you made it? maybe she could enjoy pretending to be someone else for a while. someone who did impulsive things like make out with her coworkers or have sex with men who were very clearly attracted to her.

although, dense as she was, she had missed the signs. lewis and george hadn’t, going on and on over the comms system about how pierre was practically undressing her with his eyes before bono came on call and told them to stop acting like teenagers and observe their surroundings like the agents they were supposed to be.

there was a knock on the bathroom door, and she cleared her throat, shout raspy as she told pierre she’d be out in a second.

she tiptoed out of the bathroom, the chateaus stone floor cold on her feet as she allowed the short dress to dust her thighs, hair just brushing her shoulders.

“you clean up nice, desk agent.” pierre hummed, his eyes tracing over the exposed parts of her body.

“so do you, baguette boy.” her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the man in front of her, dressed pristinely in his three piece suit, hair fluffed to perfection. the navy suit was stark against the white dress shirt, the first few buttons undone to show off his golden cross necklace.

she cleared her throat, looking away as blush coated her cheeks.

pierre took her manicured hand in his, whispering something in french that made her pussy throb as she but her lip to stop from moaning. he kissed her knuckles gently before turning to face her.

“you know we’re supposed to be newlyweds who can’t keep their hands off each other, right.”

“then don’t. do what you’d do if we were newlyweds.”

pierre inhaled softly, his hands possesivley going to her waist. “oh, mon cher, if we start I won’t be able to stop.”

“good. it sells the cover better.” she hummed, hand shaking as she reached up to caress his face. “fuck me, baguette boy.”

pierre chuckled, leaning down to ghost his lips over hers, laughing even more when she whined at the lack of contact.

“oh, you’ll be calling me something totally different once I get my way with you.”

for queen and country. that was her oath. but kissing pierre gasly, pressed up against a wall with his hand between her legs and his tongue down her throat, she was ready to give up queen and country.

he was like oxygen, and she was coming up from a deep sea dive, tearing his shirt open almost animalistically.

“wait, wait.” she gasped, eyes flying open at the sound of shocked breathing and laughter. “my earpiece is still in.” she tapped on the receiver, a hickey forming in her sweaty skin as he tried to regain her breathing.

“fuck you both!” she shouted, knowing full well that lewis and george could hear her. “I’m taking the receiver out now, thank you very much. and delete the end of that recording.”

“nah, mate.” george laughed. “the bit where you called him baguette boy and then asked him to fuck you was comedic gold!”

“george! I’ll tell bono about the recording of you and those two models in monte carlo two summers ago.”

“right on, I’m deleting the last ten minutes, sound good?”

as she pulled out the earpiece and sealed it in the nightstand drawer, pierre chuckled, pulling his suit jacket and the remains of his shirt off.

“blackmail? I didn’t think you’d stoop that low just to get your rocks off.”

“shut up.” she laughed, pulling him in by the belt loops. “I did him a solid and deleted that recording as soon as I saw it. george is just so much fun to fuck with.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak about other men when I’m about to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk in an hour.” his voice was husky as he spun her around, pressing his cock against her ass.

“then give me a reason to forget georges name.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @thatsdemko @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @silversainz @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @clemswrld @httpiastri

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #f1 x y/n #Spotify

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chiyoso · 5 months

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original pin

hi pookie. to those who read this the first time, welcome back, to the first time reading this, womp womp. this is a re-write.

an update of this owner's blog. i kinda found the initial update i did rushed, and not clearly descriptive of my situation outside outside this writing hobby of mine. also for the ones that i tagged, i have notes for you <3 (sorry for the tag 🫶🏻)

alright. hello hello. i'm chiyo, a jjk-focused/sporadic genshin and hsr fanfic writer, and you've caught me, and this blog in such bad time, and im so, so very fucking burnt out.

writing for me should be fun, stress relieving, and that goes for any other hobby i have. i have been told and supported countless of times to take a rest, to take a break from this, but my stubborn ass continues to try and get something out, anything to keep my blog alive, hells, it feels like a toxic relationship where i keep coming back, because i remember all the fun, happy and fond times i had in this app, only then to return to why it becomes draining, exhausting.

just sat there, occasionally laid on my back, using my phone, but with unmoving thumbs, with a brain lacking the world that needs the narrative to make a story, fuck, where has it gone?

that innocent, startup of mine, the newfound love and interest for that world of fiction that you all create. dude, i remember being so happy discovering that this brain of mine can conjure up so many shit, all because of your words, it's fucking amazing. hence, the start of the era of my honkai star rail writing journey. (hsr/hi3rd fans who followed me, i let you down with my jujutsu kaisen brainrot obsession im sorry lmao)

“take a break hira,” “take a break chiyo,” “please, take a break.”

i've heard it all, and with utmost love and respect, thank you.

thank you for everything, every word, every action, and every peep of interest you all had for me. small and big creators, who, stopped by because of my small percent chance drop in on their feed, because of the stories i created that you shared, i've met so many wonderful, inspring and motivating people in tumblr, fuck, i didn't expect to crrate a little community all by myself, with my grit alone, it's so rewarding for someone who strives for perfection, for someone who struggles with her mental health daily, for someone who deluded themselves in a world of fiction, I can't express my genuine gratitude enough.

i'm not quitting. maybe i should've mentionrd that earlier to prevent you from getting rattled, but continuing off, i don't find myself quitting this writing journey, maybe i'm just not in the right mental headspace for it at this time. damn, my ex really fucked me up LMAO.

right, i'm aware of the less and lessening interactions i've had with the people i've encountered throughout tumblr, i feel sick of myself for not being able to catch up, nor interact with any of you as much as i could anymore, it really, really fucking sucks, i hate it, i hate it, i do.

i still have leftover projects to go over and publish, because i still want MY ideas, MY thoughts, MY worlds of fictional prowess to all of you. i'm not done, but i will say, that i'm- i'm so incredibly, so very sorry to the ones that were highly, to the heavens, expecting greatness from me, to the ones who were anticipating my unfinished stories, fuck, there's so much to do, yet my body, my mind, they do not respond, as if i'm losing my sense of time, literally.

all i can say to those sticking with me because of their plain interest for me, i wish, i pray, i'll beg, beg for me, my soul, my mind, my body, my spirit to heal, and heal faster, so i can love you all at my 100%, not with my trying 20%, and lower.

thank you. to the old, and to the recent supporters that got me to 3k followers and counting, fuckin' wild. actually insane.

i'll continue to write. i'll continue to create. i don't want to quit.

i don't want to leave the only thing that gave me freedom, and the genuine happiness the first time, making me discover shit about myself, and there's that.

p.s. apologies for my jjk brainrot everyone who followed for genshin and hsr <3 also that one popular otome game, love & deepspace? yeah, that shit's also fucking me up so good.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: (lawd i feel bad for tagging)

@ainescribe @wanderingconstellations @teapartyspilled @v3lv3tf0x @ciarchivez ⸻ you fucking OGS. literally five pillars of my life, the cheerleaders, my absolute undying support of this blog, you saw me at my noob tumblr handling form, the lows, the highs, and the absolute peaks, i consider all of you special, i do, you all made tumblr and the writing community such a fun place for me. thank you, thank you, i just can't spam that voiceline enough.

@peachdues @screampied @chuluoyi @blkkizzat @jabamin @flametrashira @meowzfordayz ⸻ you superstar mutuals of mine. we've only interacted sporadically, PLEASE BLAME MY BURNOUT AND COLLEGE SCHEDULE FOR THAT, but all of you invoked so much burning hope, and motivation for me through your stories, AND your interests for me, whether it'd be something about my themes, edits, stories, it doesn't matter, you all took interest in lil' ol me, despite what, being such big content creators? FUCK??? that's insane. thank you.

god, i seriously wish my schedule would just clear up by a fuckton, and then again, i was the one who took psychology and performing arts 💤 i hope, hope HOPE i get to interact with you all again once i take a leave/break from college.

⸻ with all my love, chiyo.

#real shit i think i just need dick #that or a love so overwhelming from a person that theyll die for me cos id do the same

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distantlaughter · 3 months

Text

Formel Vorne

Originally published June 2022 by Sven Michaelsen for DB MOBIL (x)

Always close to the racing line: this is how Nico Rosberg became Formula 1 world champion. But what does it take to lead start-ups to the top in Germany? In the cover interview with DB MOBIL, the tech investor talks about his flair for perfect green ideas, his speed-reading course and how he is trying to beat his cell phone addiction by making music.

The man seems impressively experienced in the media. When Nico Rosberg sees the first pictures taken by the photographer at the 25hours Hotel in Cologne, he asks: "Could I get more light from below?" At the beginning of the subsequent cover interview, the former Formula 1 professional wants to know: "How have you perceived me in the last hour?" Anyone in the public eye does a lot of Hollywood, says the 36-year-old, who will open the Greentech Festival, which he co-founded, in Berlin on June 22. New ideas for a sustainable lifestyle will be presented there. Nico Rosberg believes that image is work: "And I've always taken it very, very seriously."

Mr. Rosberg, you became Formula 1 world champion for the first time in 2016. Five days later, you announced your retirement from racing, much to everyone's astonishment. What was going through your mind?

I had meditated a lot and worked with a psychologist. At the start of the last race, I knew that if I didn't make any mistakes, I would be world champion. When I crossed the start line, I thought: Nico, this could be your last race ever, try to enjoy it a little. That gave me the calm I needed to win. When I crossed the finish line, I knew it was over! That's it for you and Formula 1.

Wife, parents, team boss: Who did you tell your decision to first?

In the evening, there was a party where we celebrated at full throttle. The morning after, my wife and I woke up totally hungover. In my bathrobe, I said to her: "By the way, I've decided to quit." It was a total surprise for her.

Did she react with enthusiasm or dismay?

She was completely neutral. On the one hand, she had been an enthusiastic supporter of my career, but on the other hand, she saw first-hand how racing had taken over me to such an extent that I often seemed absent at home. Her only comment was: "Follow your instinct."

Your father Keke Rosberg was Formula 1 world champion in 1982. How did he find out about your decision?

After I announced my departure, I wrote a WhatsApp message to my mother: "Mom, you never have to worry about me again. That was my last race. Please tell dad." If I had told my dad in advance, he would have said: "What are you doing? This is a huge mistake! You're giving up the top spot in Formula 1 without needing to and giving up 100 million euros in revenue over the next few years. That's stupid."

Did he make a scene for you?

No, but he was shocked and didn't understand at all at first. He was my biggest fan and was already looking forward to the next racing season. I then explained to him that I had reached my goal in life and was no longer prepared to give 110 percent every day for racing. That was a very nice moment.

What career options did you have?

None at all. We had our little daughter, and a few weeks after I left, my wife got pregnant again. It was clear that I didn't want to live off my savings in the long term and that my next job should be less ego-driven. In Formula 1, everything revolves around you. This extreme self-centeredness had made me unhappy and led to a disbalance within me. I wanted to become more positive and self-confident. For this reason, I made a promise to myself: In your next life, don't focus on your ego, but on dedicating yourself to projects that help others.

You are investing in sustainability and green mobility today. How many people work for you?

There are almost 20 of them, some of which are involved in investments in green start-ups, others in our annual Greentech Festival, where we bring together the most innovative minds. Then there are our partnerships with companies that are driving forward electromobility.

How many companies have you invested money in?

About 20, with another 100 through investments in funds.

How many start-ups are pipe failures?

50 out of 100. 30 float along so-so, 10 are better off, 10 become really successful.

Your biggest scoop?

Our early investment in the e-scooter company "TIER".

Your most spectacular failure?

A financial services provider in Sweden. Our money was gone.

How high is the proportion of women among founders?

Under 20 percent. The entire tech scene is still a male domain. We can only hope that this will change very quickly.

A founder wants money from you: Do you look at the person or their idea?

First of all, I look at the person: are they driven by an intrinsic passion or is someone just trying to make as much money as possible in as short a time as possible? I need to sense passion in a founder and an incredible fighting spirit, which I recognize immediately because of my past as a professional sportsman. You can modify ideas, but not people.

Two years ago, you predicted in an interview: "The first commercial flights with air cabs will take place in 2022."

It will probably take a few more years after all. We have invested in the German air cab companies Lilium and Volocopter. Commercial flights are due to start in 2025. I predict that a decade later there will be a kind of Netflix for mobility. For a monthly flat rate, you will be provided with all the means of transportation you need to travel within Europe: E-scooter, self-driving cab, hydrogen-powered air cab that lands on the roof of your train station, high-speed train.

CEOs today are supposed to be moderate, approachable, inclusive and politically correct. Successful people like Mark Zuckerberg or Jeff Bezos, on the other hand, are polarizing and egocentric. How do you explain this contradiction?

Many former employees of Elon Musk complain that it is a horror to work for him. I assume he has people on his management team who balance out his stubbornness and ensure empathy. Otherwise, every company will blow up in your face at some point. It is probably extremely rare for visionary founders to also be nice team players. Being uncompromising is part of every great career.

The controversial, billionaire investor Peter Thiel writes in his book "Zero To One": "Of the six men who founded PayPal, four made bombs as schoolboys." Do founders have to be out of the ordinary, have to have a chip on their shoulder?

Genius founders are extreme characters. They focus their lives on implementing their ideas with extreme dedication and tenacity. With some of them, you might think that their successes are revenge on the people who humiliated them in their youth. Toto Wolff, my team boss at Mercedes, said that every great success is compensation for a painful childhood trauma. The appreciation you didn't get as a child is supposed to bring you success in your career.

Peter Thiel asks people who apply to him: "Which of your beliefs would few people share with you?" How would you answer him?

I would so fail this question. Six years ago, I would have come up with an answer: Electromobility. I'm an investor and shareholder in Formula E. When my father heard about it, he said: "You're completely crazy!" He now sets his alarm clock for every race. But wait, I just thought of an answer to Thiel's question: I'm convinced that a psychologist can help each of us enormously in becoming more successful, happier and a better relationship partner. During my time in Formula 1, I worked with a qualified psychologist for two hours every other day. That was more intense than any driver training course.

What did the man do to you?

He helped me to understand myself better: Why am I nervous? Why am I afraid? Why am I jealous when my wife looks after another man without any deeper intention? When it comes to our emotions, we are all so in the dark. They guide our behavior without us understanding how and why. With the help of a mental coach, you can control your reactions much better because you learn to react rationally instead of emotionally. This triggers a snowball effect that changes your whole life for the better. In addition, the psychologist taught me to proactively train my brain with meditation, visualization and repetition.

An example, please.

If I visit a person 100 days in a row and tell them they are an idiot every time, they will eventually believe me at least a little. We often do the same with ourselves. We make the same assumptions about ourselves over and over again until we end up mistakenly believing them to be facts. If I visualize this mechanism again and again in meditation, I can break through it and achieve a more positive self-image.

You also had a coach for speed reading.

Because I don't read enough, I wanted to learn to read faster. Bill Gates reads 100 pages per hour thanks to a coach. A simple trick is to follow along with your finger while reading. This helps the eye to recognize the words and increases reading speed.

A world-famous father, a childhood in the decadent, affluent paradise of Monaco: you could just as easily have become a spoiled good-for-nothing with a drug problem.

I don't believe that children from wealthy families need to have a problem with their ambition. My best friends in Monaco grew up with money. One of them now manages 300 million euros, the other two are among the luminaries of their profession as a lawyer and dentist. All three decided early on that they didn't want to live off their parents' money. Their incentive was to achieve something similar. I was ambitious and thrifty from an early age and never thought about my parents' money. I wanted to do my own thing.

You are bringing up two daughters, aged four and six. Can children's ambition be fueled, or is ambition a kind of natural destiny, as natural as a birthmark?

I think 70 percent is genetics, 30 percent can be influenced by the parents. For me, this 30 percent is the biggest challenge there is in the world. My wife and I attend parenting seminars to develop our parenting skills. Of course we want to encourage our children's motivation, but above all we want them to be happy.

What about your gift for happiness?

My mother is naturally happy and motivated. I find that more difficult. Without rationality and discipline, for example, I would look at my cell phone for twelve hours a day and be knocked out after two days. I have to manage my life with a lot of energy and thought. Otherwise I would make myself and others unhappy.

What are you like when you lose?

My nature makes it extremely difficult for me to lose. When I played tennis against my father when I was young, I left the court crying almost every time. I cried when I lost and I cried when I won because I thought he had let me win. We didn't speak to each other again until the next day. This extreme in me was really bad. In Formula 1, my psychologist then taught me that defeats don't just hurt, but are an opportunity to grow.

What can we learn from you?

Dedication, persistence, not letting go. I recently wanted to meet Richard Branson - which is not easy. I wrote to his secretary, called her and had a friend write an email recommending him. And so it went on and on until I finally got the acceptance.

Have you had any Formula 1 freak-outs like tennis stars hitting the umpire's chair with their rackets?

I'm not the impulsive type. I tend to be very thoughtful, sometimes too much so. I've never shouted at anyone in my life. I'm practising this with my children because they seem to expect it from me. But it's not my nature. I have to force myself to do it.

How do you teach your children ecological awareness?

There is a series of children's books with stories about famous people who are committed to nature. Last night I read the book about Greta Thunberg at home. We also explain why we drive an electric car and try to avoid plastic.

What have you learned from your children?

I bought myself a guitalele, a miniature guitar, so that I don't have to reach for my smartphone every free second. It's in my hotel room. It was my children who inspired me to play an instrument. I'm fascinated by how motivated they are to learn new things. Then I think: Nico, you've become so lazy! Because I'm ambitious, I'm even taking guitar lessons now. I want to become good.

Charlie Chaplin said about the Christmases of his childhood: "I only got one orange - in good years." How do you deal with the lack of scarcity when raising your children?

My wife and I try to exemplify certain values because mere theory is not convincing for children. When we return from an expensive family vacation, I say: "Be careful in your stories not to hurt anyone who can't afford this kind of vacation." Only at Christmas do we break the dams. That's when we overdo it with presents. You can't do everything pedagogically right. And who should stop grandma and grandpa from giving presents?

#nico rosberg #nicology

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yorsgirl · 20 hours

Text

So Do I

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Third and Final year of college and your eyes are set on the student council president seat. Life is great until you have got the most infuriating, stuck-up, arrogant jerk setting eyes on that same spot.

A battle of intellects? Sure, there's no way both of you can get the same aggregate. Right..?

Tropes: Academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, College AU, 18+

Warnings: Mentions of knife and blood, minor assault, nothing serious, profanity, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Throw in all the cliches of forced proximity, slow burn, mutual pinning, fluff and a generous amount of spice. Ta da! You've made this. Bits and pieces inspired from the anime and manga, Kaguya Sama: Love is war.

𝟏 - 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

"Same marks."

"Excuse me?" You say and at the same time hear Levi's - "What?"

Principal Zackly fixes his glasses, taking once over at the reports in his hand. Sighing he turns back to the both of you. "Just what you heard, kids. Both of you have an overall aggregate of 95.7 percent." He tilts his head to the side, "It's impressive, honestly."

"It isn't," You grumble, folding your hand over your chest. You shoot a glare at Levi from your periphery and he returns it with equal fervour.

"I can't get the same marks as her." The word rolls down his lips with distaste, his face scrunching up.

You scoff, "Oh please, I can't get the same marks as you." You hiss. You turn to Zackly, "It's ridiculous. There has to be some mistake. Can't you double check it, sir?"

"I did, so did your professors. Twice," He affirms, turning the report over to both of you and pushes it forward, "Take a look yourself."

Sheets on the desk and you scan your eyes on the grades till the last row where GRAND AVERAGE - 95.7, is printed. You take a peek over at his report and the same words with digits are printed.

You want to laugh. This must be some funny joke. But it isn't.

This grade will decide who'll ascend the seat to the student council president after the farewell party of your seniors, this coming April. You had your eyes on that spot since the first day of your first year, one of the other reasons you toiled so hard in your all of your classes, never scoring lesser than a ninety(except that one time in first year when you procrastinated an assignment until very late and ended up with a eighty-five) and completing all your projects, whether major or minor, on time.

All this and still you always earned the second place.

The first? It's obvious. The most arrogant jerk of the whole campus - Levi Ackerman.

What hits the nerve more is his nonchalance like all of it doesn't matter except it does cause he was able to beat you always with the least minimum effort as it seems. He is damn talented, you'd give him that but at times its infuriating. Not to mention, he's a stuck up bastard.

Once in your second year mid-term, your professor had made him your lab partner for the day. And this jerk stepped up to you, gave you an once over look while clicking his tongue and said, "Don't get in my way." The sheer audacity had you fuming. So much so, you crossed out your own observatory datas and did them all over again even if that meant you had to stay back an extra hour.

Bottom line: Levi Ackerman is a arrogant bastard.

Toxicity is a good motivation cause you poured out all of your anger in this final exams. You were sure, you'd beat him but you only received a tie. A fucking tie.

You sent a glare his way, gritting your teeth before turning back to Zackly. "You have it wrong, sir. I have a 99 in biochemistry, he only has 96."

"Did you miss the solid 100 beside human anatomy? Must be the reason why you're so damn weak in this." He is quick to shoot back, rolling his eyes. "94… pathetic."

You audibly gasp, slamming your report down on the table. You compose your state before speaking up, "Don't you go about talking about eyesight when you've only got a 15 in physiology practical."

"Why don't you enlighten me on why you've got an A minus in viva?" He hisses, crossing his legs one over the other. "While we are on that, why don't you classify the families in arthropods."

Oh, so that was is now? He is stepping on your lessons to downplay you. Well, well, he can be your guest. "Gladly, I will." You scoff. "Before that why don't you list out the optimum-"

"That's enough," Zackly hits the desk twice, diverting both of your attention to him. "Remember that, this is a College."

You straighten up in your seat, seemingly a bit embarrassed about losing your composure before your principal. You can swear Levi brings out the worst in you. But he is sitting beside you and he seems fine and it just annoys you more. All you want to do is to remove that expression (which is neutral) off his face.

A silence prevails for a minute until Zackly breaks it. "Now we have that settled, let's move on to who'll be the council pres-"

"It's going to be me." You and Levi say in unison. The stress and fire matches in that statement. You glance at him and he glances back at you. The next second, the look changes into a scowl.

Levi turns to Zackly, "This is stupid. I am more eligible to be the president."

"Oh yeah? On what basis?" You sneered back, scrunching your eyebrows. You continue, "As far as I know, the council needs no egoistical jerk like you."

He shoots you a nasty look, raising his eyebrow. He speaks, "You seem to know a lot of council requisites, don't you Miss reckless?"

"The hell-"

"Here, stop it," Zackly announces, his hand meeting his desk louder than the last time. "Maintain the protocol."

You curse under your breath for letting your anger get the better of you. Nope, no more. You aren't letting him affect you anymore. You wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the time you're in the principal's office. No look, no glares, nothing.

Levi seems to think the same as he rolls his eyes and settles his gaze on the principal.

The man sighs then begins, "As I was saying, after talking with our senior professors and the current president-" He pauses, clearing his throat. "We've decided that both of you can co-preside over the student body."

"We can what?" The words leave your mouth before you can get the chance to stop them. "Co-preside? Is that even a thing?"

"Honestly, it is." The corners of his lips turn up into a slight smile. "Some like seven years ago, we had a similar case where two of our students were elected co-presidents."

"And?" Levi questions. "Which one of them died?"

His eyes flicker to the man beside you, tints of amusement evident. "Not so, they'd been the best of friends before being elected, even after that we didn't witness any animosity in them." He takes a pause, "I might say, working together made them bond stronger."

Well yeah, sounds convenient. But not to you. Sharing the top spot with anyone doesn't excite you the slightest even if it was your friend. There is no chance in hell you want to co-preside with anyone. And absolutely not with Levi out of all people.

"Isn't there no other way?" You groan, "Just take another test or something. I swear to beat him this time." You jerk your thumb towards Levi.

"You mean, you swear to lose this time-" He bites back, before adding, "-again."

You're almost tempted to shoot another quip at him but luckily you are able to restrain yourself. Thank God, for your self-control.

Zackly starts again, perching his elbow on top of the table. "We've already discussed that matter with your professors and the answer is - No." He notices that both of you are going to argue again, so he raises his hand to stop any more speech. He heaves out a breath and starts explaining himself. "Your final year is starting from next week, most of our teaching staff wouldn't return until a day before and the ones who have stayed back are already occupied with the exams of your seniors. The situation's tight, conducting another examination for y'all isn't feasible."

No word is uttered after his reasoning. Momentarily, both of your thoughts are inclined in the same direction (that's what you think). On top of that preparing for another exam in just a week's time doesn't sound so great. Even if you put your mind and heart into it, you aren't sure if you can truly beat Levi; who can apparently just wing it without picking up a damn book.

You swear this guy had some super powers.

The older man continues, noticing the thick silence engulfing the room. "This is just what I suggest, but being co-presidents isn't completely a bad idea."

I am not working with this asshole. You're about to say but Zackly's next words stop you.

"However, if anyone of you have a problem then you're free to back out and the other one can be the President." He tilts his head to the side, grinning softly. "The other can go for VP or another role in the council, let's say- secretary?"

Out of question. Be it Vice President or even the treasurer, you aren't settling for anything lower than President, whatsoever happens.

Your eyes flicker to Levi, he does the same immediately. And the look he gives you is a clear indication of what he wants to say - I am not backing out.

How lovely. You aren't backing out either.

"The God's hate me." You announce as soon as you enter your friend's dormitory, slumping back on her bed.

"No, they don't." Nanaba, who was on her phone until you arrived, pivots around to you. Her lip curling up into a little smile.

You would've returned the gesture, but you were too burnt out from this whole ordeal. "They do." You whined, "What did I even do to deserve their wrath?" You flip over on the bed, pulling a pillow and burying your face in it. Grumbling a string of curses to yourself.

She stands up from her chair, walking over and sitting down beside you. Rubbing your back in a soothing way, she asks "Girl, what happened?"

You groan, sitting back up and facing her. You scantily run her through the entire mess you've got yourself stuck in. She nods and hums in between, letting you know she's listening.

"…and now, I have to co-preside with him." Your face scrunches up in disgust. Stark contrast to how you envisioned yourself to be while being handed this position. Now, you were the president- sorry, co-president now, still you couldn't get any joy out of it. (Duh! Like you got a stuck up, egoistical jerk as your partner.)

"Doesn't sound that bad, you know?" Nanaba says, after you are done with your tale.

"Right," You confirm, a bitter taste filling your mouth. "It isn't just bad, its fucking nasty."

"Now, you're just letting your anger speak." Her lips twist up, "C'mon, how bad can it be?"

"The worst." Your lips stretch into a sarcastic grin. "After I end up slitting his throat."

"You’re contemplating murder?"

"I would contemplate torture too but I am too much of a nice person." You shrug, marking the weirded out expression on her face until its replaced by a snort.

"If you need any help while hiding his body, call me." She winks and this time you genuinely smile at her. God, only Nanaba could lift your mood like this.

You shared a room with her in your first year, creating a bond over time. It explains itself, she's outgoing, funny, confident and smart. She was your first friend here and thanks to her you've made other few friends around the campus. Otherwise, you wonder you'd have ended up like a lonely college student, owing to your introvert nature and hesitance in meeting new people.

After being promoted to second year, single rooms were allowed. Though you loved having your own space, you missed being her roommate. Adding to your studies and the increased pressure, your meetings weren't as much as previous so whenever you'd have time, you'll just come over to her room or she'll visit yours. Needless, to say. The bond was still strong.

"Honestly though," Nanaba starts, leaning back on the bedframe. "You shouldn't be slumping like this. Like c'mon you're now the president-"

"Co-president," You correct her.

"Yeah that, co-president. Still isn't it better? He didn't win, this time."

"He didn't," You confirm, pursuing your lips. "But I didn't either, it’s a draw. A fucking draw." You groan. "I would've preferred losing."

"Really?"

"No."

"Thought so," She raises an eyebrow and smiles. "See? It's still better."

You hum, pinching your lips together and look out the window. Maybe it isn't as bad. Still, you'd choose a win over tie any day.

"We should celebrate." She declares, picking up her phone from the table.

You crane your neck towards her quickly, eyebrows shooting up with confusion. "Celebrate? Celebrate what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yep!" She chirps, "We are celebrating you finally becoming our president."

You don't bother correcting her rather roll your eyes. "I can't," You dismiss, waving your hand. "I have to study."

A frown forms on her face, "What are you even going to study? We haven't even started our classes."

That's true. But you can at least read the chapters before starting the semester, You had checked the syllabus online plus your books didn't say much except that the syllabus is huge.

"A stitch in time saves nine." You answer with a shrug.

"Awe c'mon," She whines, placing a hand on her hips. "Don't be a kill joy now."

"I'm not a- you know, I don't like to going out for no reason."

"This isn't for no reason, it's for you. Besides, a little bit of fresh air would help you ease up." She reasons, though you weren't convinced enough. Sounds fun, but you'd choose to stay in rather than going out for some celebration. Nanaba notes the reluctance, conjuring the most puppy eyes she pleas, "Aww, c'mon Ivy. Please. Just one celebration."

That adorableness could've worked, if you weren't so damn tired. You're about to deny her again until you hear a loud crash from downstairs. Both of you instantly stiffen up, but before your former roommate can react, you're out of her room. Rushing down the stairs to the common room.

"What's happening in…" Your question dies down but your eyes widen.

It’s the first years.

An ash-brown haired boy, Jean has his peer, Eren in a headlock. The latter's face is pale due to lack of oxygen while he threw sullen punches over the boy's arm. A second later, Eren is pulling Jean down by his collar when his grip loosens, pushing the guy down on the floor, he throws a punch at his face.

"What the fuck?" You shout, trying to step in between them but you are stopped by a bald boy - Connie.

"Miss. Sea, I- I don't think you should intervene," He utters nervously, glancing back at the fight to you again.

"Why in the fucking world are they wrestling?" Connie is about to answer you but no, it isn't the time for reasons. It's time for action before the fight before you causes a backward reaction and a student ends up being expelled, other in a hospital.

You walk up to them, carefully stepping aside the fumbled, almost broken furniture. "Eren- Jean- stop it. Hey no, you- Eren let him go." You are shrieking their names in a higher tone of voice than usual still they don't seem to even hear you. Narrowly missing colliding with Eren when he is pushed back by Jean. Stepping between them would do no good except that you might end up in a hospital.

Cursing under your breath, you resort to the last method.

Five seconds later, its pin drop silence and there's a chopping knife piercing the wall, just an inch aside Jean's head.

"For the last damn time, stop this."

"Miss Sea, did you really have to throw a knife at us?"

Eren is quick to shut his mouth, miming to lock his lips and throwing away the key once you glare down at him. Aside him sits Jean, glancing at his lap. Both of them have dried blood near their mouth, few cuts here and there in the arms and forehead but luckily nothing serious.

The knife which you threw at them, previously, was in your hand. You ran your thumb over the flat side of the blade.

"Jesus Christ," You groan, pinching the area between your eyebrows. "Do y'all even learn? It's the fourth time– I don't want to heat it." You declare the last part, when you see their mouths opening in protest. Fortunately, they don't speak.

Eren, Jean and Connie were the first years and your juniors. There were a couple of other students too which you were familiar with. You assume the others were out, running some errands or just in their room, not bothering to step out even after hearing the ruckus. You don't blame them, Jean and Eren had been at each other's throats since the first day they arrived. Constantly, picking fights with one another.

You sigh, "See I don't want to write you up to the head warden and get you into trouble before your first day itself." You pause, your eyebrows scrunching up, "But the way, both of you are getting into fights so frequently– someone other than me would. And I am sure, none of you want that?"

Their silence answers in itself but you hear murmurs of - No, from both. You weren't entirely sure if they could keep their word, considering they had said the same before too. Yet, you were ready to give them another chance. It's never too late to change. Besides, they were good kids. A pleased smile forms on your lips and you put the knife down on the table.

"Good, now better clean up this mess–" You point to the common room where the chairs are upside down, the table pushed to the side and the cushions of the couch no where to be seen. "Then go clean yourselves up."

Sighs of relief are heard from the boys before you and the one beside you. "Damn, that was suffocating," Connie mutters to himself, wiping his forehead.

"I though I might die." Jean murmurs, standing up from the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the boy as Eren follows suit.

"You know I wouldn't have aimed that knife at any of your vital points."

"Vital points, right." Eren confirms, rolling his eyes. He heaves out a deep breath, "Has anyone told you that you're scary, Miss Sea?"

Your eyebrow twitches, a smirk curling up in your lips. An answer for itself. "You want numbers?"

"Nevermind." Eren rolls his eyes, strolling back while picking up a chair and placing it where it belonged.

Just then, you hear footsteps and there she is – Nanaba. Walking down the stairs after this ordeal is over.

"You are here now?" You ask exasparately.

"I knew you could take care of whatever it was," She says and tilts her head to the side, motioning to the pair of boys cleaning up the room. "And I was right, you settled it. So what did it take this time around?"

"A knife."

"Glare was more effective though," Connie chimes in. "Miss Sea–"

"I have a name Connie."

"I know your name," He interrupts you. "But I prefer Miss Sea, better than Miss Substitute Educational Assistant."

"You can just call me–"

"Miss Sea, it is." The boys says, leaving no room for discussion.

You give up, there's no point arguing with first years who has their mind set on something. Besides, you don't really hate that nickname. Seas are nice.

"Easy on the nickname," Nanaba speaks, locking her hands behind her back. "You might give her a new one, Miss President sounds nice or just Prez."

"Nanaba."

But the announcement is loud enough for the boys to hear. Putting the dots together, they crane their necks towards you, eyes widening with surprise.

"No way," Jean says, surprise evident on his face. "You're our president?"

You want to correct him but no, that would lead to more questions then you'll have to give answers and nah– you're too tired for that. You just nod your head.

A flurry of 'wows' and 'congratulations' flows out of the boys plus the factor of endearing words which you accept with a smile and a meek - thank you. A heat rushes up your cheek, chest swelling with pride, whatever the case maybe, compliments have you weak.

Breathing out, you tug on Nanaba's shirt. She looks at you and you smile. "You know, I take up your offer. Let's go out."

Yes, maybe you can use a bit of celebration. A breath of fresh air accompanied by your friends before stepping into the dreadful third year.

Yeah, you need it.

And this outing, may just be right for you.

You could have only been so wrong.

A/N: Wrote this in a day, don't know how it turned out except that I am super excited in continuing this. If anyone wants to be tagged, let me know. Thanks for reading! Likes and comments are appreciated.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #capatain levi #levi #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman aot #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk levi

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magicratfingers · 10 months

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Hi! I love your pack of printer paper idea. But every time I get a pen/pencil in my hand and paper in front of me, my mind goes blank. I have no current projects. I just want to create in general and quality is a complete non-issue. So, I guess my question is, do you have like external or internal prompts you use to help you?

Hi! Thank you for trusting me with your question. I do run on mostly internal prompts yes.

I’ve got a like, manifesto I’ve been using recently: Do It Stupidly.

The paper pack thing is 100 percent silly goose time. Here’s some things I think a lot.

I will stop writing in the middle of a sentence. I will just write two words a page, any words. I have one sheet that just says “fish. visions of fish. She dreams of fish.”

Do you know the Pareto Principle? The 80/20 one? I started the paper pack when I realized maybe only 20% of the things I’d try would be “good.” Getting the 80% outta the way sounded fun and relaxing.

I hope this gets you over that lil bump 🍀

#ask rat fingies #process

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squidthesquidd · 4 months

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Do you have any favourite headcanons about Nightshade?

(I feel like them being autistic is a pretty common headcanon, so I’m curious if you have any thoughts on that as well)

YEAYEYWYEYYSUSY OH MY GOD YES WE HAVE SO MANY HEADCANONS ABT THEM !!!!! get ready for a fuckn infodump (also sosoos many of these are just us projecting)

warning: i sound like an insane person

okay so YES !!! nightshade is absolutely autistic. and they are stimming constantly. they stim vocally a lot, and a lot of the time its just bird sounds, but sometimes it'll just start screaming lmao. it also likes to rock back and forth a lot!! definitely a verrrry common one.

Also if youve seen how we draw nightshade you might've noticed that we draw xem with little wings in root mode! they also flap those to stim :]

also they love slime!!! this is verry much just me projecting but i like to think xey love slime and they have a huge collection of textures <33 its favorite is bingsu!!!

and NEOPRONOUNS as you might've noticed :P. (we have a nightshade alter that uses neos so we are once again, projecting) but anyway, it was hashtag that told nightshade about neos, and they immediately got into it!! they have many and love hoarding them <3 some of xeir favorites are it/xe/that/owl/web/bot/mur

bones!!! vulture culture!!!!! they collect bones. sometimes theyll go out into the forest and search for bones for hours (it has soooo many antlers) and if web finds a dead animal, web'll take it back with them to clean it out webselves :]

They also have intrusive thoughts. yeah less fun headcanon time. they can be very vivid and very graphic, and its caused nightshade to have panic attacks a few times. i hc that bumblebee also used to have them, so bees helped xem through some of the bad ones <3

also xey have severe emetophobia. yeah i know, a bit of a weird one. if someones sick, they will be avoiding that person like the plague. whenever it watches a movie with the family, it'll always check if there are emeto scenes so it knows when to look away or leave (shout out to doesthedogdie.com i fucking love that website!!!!)

this post cus i think about it a lot

and general terran hc! i headcanon that all the terrans can eat human food :D although nightshade specifically has a difficult time eating (the tism) and xey'll only eat things like noodles or very processed food. murs a huge ramen lover 😎

MINECRAFT. you cannot look at nightshade and tell me they dont love minecraft!! xey have a survival world going where xeyre completely decked out in netherite, have a hundred redstone machines scattered all over the place, and just so many huge projects going on. mur started a multi player world and got all murs siblings to join. most chaotic world ever

and now im thinking abt owls, so. they have night vision, because of course. and it also sleeps in a nest (terrans can sleep hc jumpscare) its just a pile of a fuck ton of pillows and blankets and if you touch it xey WILL bite you

also it has a very strong prey drive. if they see anything particularly small moving around on the floor they are fucking jumping it. its like xeyre the maltos mouser lmao. no small animal that shows up in the malto home is safe

oh and as for music !!! big fan of the big neurodivergent three lmao. lemon demon, will wood, tally hall. that stuff yknow? (yes im projecting) also heres a playlist that our nightshade alter made that is 100% what we hc source nightshade to listen to !!!!

LOVES STAR TREK !!!! you CANNOT convince me they wouldn’t. big fan of the non-human bridge officers <3 Spock, Data, Saru (and also big Odo fan) webs favorite is probably next gen :] also i 100% percent believe it was Alex that introduced xem to it. i look at alex and see a star trek liker. i will not be taking criticism

oh and now heres a weird one. when nightshade was a protoform, they were always very… squinty? i dunno, its just something we noticed. like why are you squinting baby, can you not see? and then when xey got their altmode, suddenly xeir eyes were much wider! and i like to think that they did actually have bad eyesight as a protoform! and becoming an owl greatly improved it :]

also they cant see glass in their alt mode <3 hashtag has a compilation of mur crashing into windows

and about the episode "missed connection", we aren't actually told how long nightshade was helping tarantulas, and while most interpret it as just one day, i like to think it actually took about a week at least or even longer. i dont really know why i hc this, but maybe its cus i need nightshade and tarantulas to be besties or i'll die

okay thats it for now <3 i definitely have more headcanons so i might make a second post abt em later

#asky #transformers #transformers earthspark #tf #tfes #tfe #earthspark #tfes nightshade #tf nightshade #tfe nightshade #earthspark nightshade #transformers nightshade #nightshade #nightshade malto #nightshade earthspark #headcanon #headcannon #maccadam

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queenburd · 11 months

Text

okay okay here’s a rough outline for the hypothetical fic, like 3/4 developed, in an order that makes sense narratively. it’s kind of a mess, because it’s bits and pieces of what I’ve talked about on my blog, but in a Narrative structure.

If I had the mental capacity I would write a whole TSP fic that gets severely meta and Stanley and the Curator are the only ones in on just how meta it is

I definitely wanna preface that this thing isnt a completely 100 percent developed story, its like. 70 percent? idk. but my thinking, or hunch, is that this whole thing started because the Player came back and did a Real Person run. it’s been a long, LONG time since they showed up, so when Suddenly Stanley isnt responding the the Narrator, the fellow cant inhabit his model and is forced to be a voice that run (after a long time of the pair of them by themselves, doing what they like), it shakes them both up pretty badly.

so the Narrator decides that since he can inhabit a model, he’s getting Stanley to that escape pod to get the hell out of dodge.

alone.

the narrator is not planning on coming with him.

and this…. doesnt go over well.

So a big theme about this whole story is the fear of abandonment. The Narrator is terrified of it, 432 has experienced it, Stanley feels like that’s what the Narrator is doing to him with the whole Escape Pod thing. (Stanley may also have some. unprocessed feelings abt the collectibles ending and epilogue.)

and this is all the Narrator’s fault btw. he made a bad decision early in the fic out of fear so he and Stanley have been dealing with that the ENTIRE TIME.

When the Narrator makes the decision to “let Stanley go”, Stanley doesn’t take it well, and 432 projects onto him pretty strongly–it’s hard not to! There’s a lot of overlap. That, plus the fact that the wheel has to keep turning, spurs 432 into action. He acts out in what he thinks is mutual anger both he and Stanley feel towards the Narrator.

They’re doing it because he’s projecting onto Stanley big time, under the assumption the Narrator made this protagonist and is now going to throw him aside and make a new one. This falls in line too closely with their memories.

Memories including a Narrator who wanted to make a big story about mind control and choice and freedom. Who jumped headfirst into a project that he only half-completed, because he got lazy and didn’t want to put all the work in, so he dumbed his story down.

Memories of half-finished NPCs disappearing and changing halls and a protagonist, designed to solve a mystery, instead becoming paranoid and disappearing.

432 is a sympathetic….. antagonist. not a villain lmao but an opposing force to the narrator in the sense they find the narrator to be lazy and probably stupid.

The narrator even describes himself pre-Parable as a person who got lazy, and made a character to make decisions for him, because decisions are complicated and difficult. He made the bucket instead of rewriting the game. he made a bunch of gags in the hope it would be a story.

As for 432… well. I think the narrator had initially planned a more complicated true ending. NPCs, a more complex storyline to figure out the mystery of mind control, and an inquisitive protagonist designed in game to be allowed the mental freedom to question. Documents and lore abt 432 show he was an exception for the mind control experiment.

But the narrator was finding this story and the choices too unwieldy. Making all these 2dimensional npcs, outlining this complicated storyline, he found it was not what he wanted. It was hard. So he cut it down a lot.

But 432 was not designed for this much simpler environment. The inquisitiveness turned to paranoia. The self awareness turned to game awareness. He knew what his role was but he didn’t fit it anymore, not the way the narrator needed him to.

And then he disappeared.

Did the narrator erase him? Did he find his own way to slip into the code? Who can say? But the narrator’s memory of 432 is fuzzy at best, and he made a new protagonist, one much simpler. One who wouldn’t ask hard questions unless prompted. One who simply desired happiness.

And then, of course, like any good protagonist, Stanley changed.

432 is, sadly, a lil bit of a hypocrite, because they too don’t want to go through making an entirely new video game. that’s hard. but, it also has to be said that it was not their job to make a video game, it was their job to be the protagonist. It was their job to play the game, again, and again. Keep the wheel turning.

they make the door to the skip button disappear. they make the door to the steam reviews, that they know will drive the narrator mad. they are the time keeper, and time between skip presses increases and increases.

but they bring the parable back, as well as push it “forward”.

the narrator is prone to fixate, get stuck, and not progress, without a protagonist. 432 knows this. when Stanley is frozen in the Skip, the narrator keeps playing and playing and playing it all over in his head until he decides to try to make decisions for himself again. even then, he cannot do it. he wants to play one more time.

the wheel must keep turning.

In truth, Stanley wants freedom. The narrator want Stanley to be free, but he also wants to tell his story, and I don’t think he INTENDED Stanley to become self aware and aware of the multiple endings and restarts, etc etc. I think he expected Stanley to be like a normal game protagonist, wiped clean, and it should be easy because Stanley is supposed to be a simple character.

432 on their part wants to keep the game functioning. He, like Stanley, became aware of his role of protagonist, but unlike Stanley, 432 doesn’t want freedom. 432 wants the loops. Wants the eternity. They’re right, the game is not a sacred thing that needs to be frozen in time. They want to play AND change.

They honestly would be the ideal protagonist for the narrator if he hadn’t goofed it so bad. or if they didn’t want to antagonize him so bad.

432 at one point becomes the storyteller, forcing Stanley and the Narrator to do the story, only “new and improved” (and the worst part is the story 432 makes IS more compelling than the narrator’s and it’s upsetting!!!)

I want to emphasize that 432 does not at any point harm a single character and is actually quite chill even as the antagonist. they LIKE stanley, and want to be friends with Stanley, even if there’s a lil bit of envy. it’s not Stanley’s fault they’re in this mess anyway.

they tell a compelling story about mind control, choices, abandonment and power grabbing. the story this parable SHOULD have been from the start.

they spend a lot of the time just telling Stanley a fun story about mind control and stuff (just to rub it in the Narrators face

and all the while they tell Stanley, just make whatever decision feels right. we’ll have fun with it. there’s always something new to learn.

they dont do anything to physically hurt the pair of them, but they consistently question Stanley’s choice to support the narrator after everything, and eventually he and Stanley make a bet that in a moment of high pressure the Narrator will/will not be able to make a decision. and if 432 wins they get to use Stanley’s model for a run.

and then they sabotage the choice to make the narrator so cripplingly scared of his choices that they win.

when 432 snags the model, he doesnt impersonate Stanley–he’s more interested in using Stanley’s face to taunt the narrator.

432 while in Stanley’s body (and Stanley has been made into a consciousness that’s just stuck in the museum for a run) just consistently makes the Narrator doubt that Stanley could ever really properly care about him, because the Narrator is a bad person, who can’t even make a choice when everything depends on it, and gosh, he really thinks Stanley could love him after everything?

the Narrator wont even let him leave the parable, despite having a body and being able to leave now! does he really think Stanley’s going to want to be with him forever?

no. they need to get back to the story. tell the story with me, narrator. this is all you’re good for.

so let’s just generally say that 432 gets to have a run in Stanley’s body more than once, and DOES give it back and only takes it when it’s been discussed beforehand (like the bet)

432 starts breaking Stanleys model pretty entirely unintentionally until the narrator desperately reminds them that they swore they wouldn’t hurt Stanley. They choose to end that run and their round with Stanleys body.

also there might have been a run where 432 puts the narrator through the skip button again. idk

So the Skip button is the most visceral example of this concept. (A theory is that 432 is the one that made the time between skips get longer and took the door away.) They’re doing this for catharsis. They’re doing it to emphasize this is how it feels.

it wouldn’t be a 1:1 experience of how we or Stanley experience the Skip button. The Narrator wouldn’t have the same rants, or the same reactions. his deterioration would be obvious through clothing, physical tics, stuff like that.

432 is immovable. At least until the reset, and Stanley is NOT HAPPY.

anyway when Stanley is booted out of the model entirely he doesn’t take it too well! it’s not a nice time being alone in the settings! but the curator, being able to see the entirety of the story and seeing this has gone WILDLY OFF TRACK, pulls his code out of the void and makes a copy of his model that she drops into the museum. it’s…. like it’s BETTER but it’s not GOOD. he’s pretty panicked about everything tbf.

uncertain as to if the Skip happens while he is in the Museum with the Curator, interacting with the comments, or if those happen the same run. the answer would change the specifics of how the run functions.

if he’s in the museum, than Stanley is aware of it. The Curator tells him it’s happening. for them, time moves the same way it would for the player, not for the Narrator.

If he’s dealing with the comments, then he’s probably on some level aware of it and is trying to prepare for the worst and the resolution. time passes for him equivalent to how it would pass for us the readers (like, update schedule wise. if it take a week for a new chapter, then he’d experience a week in the comments. only he wouldn’t have a full awareness of the time, bc that’s not really a thing in the void he’s working in.)

either way, he doesn’t have the power to stop it.

The Curator’s job is to oversee the Museum, and she knows the truth of the game, and the meta aspects. As the fic nears its climactic point, she’s the one who reveals this all to Stanley-

Diegetically, the narrator “created” the parable, the story, Stanley, 432, the skip button, etc etc. he’s a godlike entity who made a video game for the sake of art. He has full control of the parable, save for certain key moments.

Nondiegetically, a video game company named CrowsCrowsCrows made the video game called the Stanley parable, and hired kevan brighting to voice a character. The video game company developed every aspect and asset. The narrator is nothing more than a character.

And yet, diegetically, this is acknowledged in several places in story. The most obvious aspect is the Museum ending, though the Confusion ending is also a pretty big one. The new “bottom of the mind control facility” ending also acknowledges these developers who had to resolve the bug.

The clash between diegetic and non diegetic, the insertion of non diegetic into the diegetic, is one of the most beloved points of the game, since from its immediate loadin, the narrator (an aspect that is nondiegetic in most other stories that have one) is inserted into his own story. He’s breaking his own “in-story” consistency.

So you have a story within a story within a story. The narrators story/video game he is telling and trying to make, the story of the narrator clashing with Stanley/the player, and then the real world application of CrowsCrowsCrows making this video game abt all of it.

How fucking confusing is that? Me just trying to explain all of this as simply as possible. That’s why it’s been so hard to figure out how to talk about it. But all of this has to be covered for this next part to really make sense.

Because I’ve talked about how I think the implication is the narrator made 432 but then changed his story and 432 didn’t fit anymore, and this led to 432’s disappearance and their own condescension of him.

Memories which are, unfortunately, false. Because in the end, all of them are just a fiction. All of them are simply in a game made by Crows Crows Crows.

But by the time this finally gets out, 432’s sunk way too much anger and hurt into this. Doesn’t really feel like they can go back and still feels secondary. So they don’t intend to stop.

That they’re all just in someone else’s story, and always have been. Even she and the Narrator are not above Stanley, and never have been. She’s always protected that truth, and she only ever makes sure its assets stay safe–which is why when Stanley gets booted out of his model, she intervenes.

she sympathizes with all of them, but she doesn’t (can’t?) intervene, so she just watches and hopes.

and that one of these runs, Stanley would get to have a go at talking to the comments section of the fic. which would be integral to the climax and resolution of the fic.

me thinkin abt fic every night like '432 would be an incredible antagonist to write all they want is to show the narrator that they shouldnt have been left to the wayside so they go out of their way to prove they can make a better story than he can all while being not actually hostile but just an opposing force that makes stanley and the narrator doubt themselves and each other and at the end of the day 432's frustration is that they dont get to be a protagonist people know or care about and then of course the entire fic itself would get super meta because the curator would reveal the full meta narrative to stanley and then any fanfic comments and reactions would be something that he finds a way to share with 432 because 432 IS LOVED BY THE DANG WEBSITE' I am a massive sap every day of my life.

I think my own stubbornness is shouting “there has to be another option. there’s always another way” to the idea that the only way to beat the game is to not play. i think my brain keeps going back to the idea that the game is meant to be loved by its audience, because in its self awareness, if it can know it’s a loved thing, it knows it can be changed.

“to be loved is to be changed” “transformative nature of love” listen. Listen.

432, in the climax of the fic, learns about the audience/comments or the fic and realizes how absolutely adored they are and that they aren’t alone. They’re seen. And that is what they wanted and how they make peace and get closure.

Which would lead to them helping stanley and the narrator in their escape while making sure the parable still runs, because it has to

With the implication that they would do the story with the help of the audience from then on

Stanley and the Narrator escape the Parable after making arrangements with 432, who takes Stanley’s place as protagonist so the wheel can keep turning, and has the narrator tapes, but like I dont know how satisfied i am with that cos 432 by themself makes me sad but the curator does not want to narrate the whole game

but anyway 432 uses a Stanley model but tweaks it only a little

(you made it to the bottom of this post! Good Job, you did it! Good Job, you did it!)

#The Sparrow Parable #tsp #im sorry to everyone who wants this i am only a small bird.

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drowsyhope · 20 days

Text

RAMO BUCHON , MY HERO ACADEMIA

💐 summary , getting flowers from a certain someone

💐 warnings , love, everyone else being obvious, asking out

💐 a/n , THIS IS SO CUTE AJDJWIAW

‘who do you always ask for snacks?’

izuku fumbled with his writing, his nervousness getting to him. a pile of crumbled up sticky notes that had the same exact sentence, except more scribbled due to how nervous he was. his teeth gritted, his leg bounced, his hands sweated.

there was no doubting how much of a wreck he was in right now. why must love be so confusing?

a knock was heard on his door, pulling him out of his trance. shaking, he gets up and march towards the door, ready to see who it was.

“hey, i gotten a call from the lady. it’s finished.” izuku gulped.

uraraka stood out there, her phone in hand, clearly showing the text messages between her and the florist.

“we need to pick it up in around 2 hours, did you get the sticky notes done?” he shook his head. uraraka sighs. she slightly pushes him off to the side, allowing herself in his room. she was instantly hit with the pile of sticky notes and perfume smell.

she glanced at izuku, “did you really buy her favorite perfume to spray it all over the notes?” he playfully smiles, blushing in embarrassment.

uraraka playfully rolls her eyes, going to grab the pile of sticky notes, dropping them off in the trashcan. she knew how nervous izuku was, everyone knew.

everyone knew the obvious crush izuku had on [y/n], it was a miracle that [y/n] herself didn’t noticed. he was lovesick. even his own best friend was grossed out by how lovesick he was. it was hilarious.

there lovestory was one of basically fairytales, but reverse, [y/n] being the knight in shining armor and izuku being the helpless princess.

that was exactly how they met, [y/n] saving izuku from the robot from when they took the entrance exam, after izuku had saved uraraka.

the two quickly bonded, each other sharing a love for heroes. it was no surprise that izuku grew to have a crush on her.

they grew even closer when she helped him and the others save bakugou, the both of them working together to help save him. bakugou even approved of [y/n] after, calling her the ‘defrosted icy hot’, due to her quirk being water based.

uraraka was the one who told izuku to get her flowers, and to get her more than the ones you buy at the store. so, uraraka got in touch with a florist, and managed to order a ramo buchon, a ribbon that goes across it saying ‘will you be my girlfriend?’

“do you think she’ll like it? o-or should we have gotten a different type? or—“ izuku shut himself up after seeing the look uraraka was giving him.

“she’ll love it, i’m 100 percent sure of it.” izuku smiles.

[y/n] used her quirk to reroute the small pond outside their school, seeing how some of the ducks were clearly mad how the pond was.

“[y/n]! [y/n]!” she heard someone call her name. getting up, she looked around, only to see an incoming kirishima, waving his arms everywhere.

giving him a funny look, [y/n] stood there, her arms crossed as she sees her cousin run at her at full speed. and when he was close enough, she moves out of the way, making him fall into the pond, luckily not into any animals.

“seriously [y/n]?” kirishima rolled his eyes, mumbling as he crossed his arms. [y/n] lifted him up from the water, using her quirk. “what’s up? what’s got you running at me full speed?” she asks, putting him down.

kirishima digs through his pocket for a few moments, before pulling out a sticky note, drenched in water. “here, for you.” [y/n] gives him a weird look, before grabbing the sticky note, reading it.

‘who always gives you snack? go to that person.’

“hm. seems like a quest,” she grabs her cousin’s wrist, “come on.”

she quickly sees mina, who smiles as she sees the pair. “[y/n]! the person i need.” she smirks, getting out another sticky note, giving it to [y/n] while giggling like a school girl.

‘who did you work with for last project?’

“have fun!” mina waved them goodbye, giggling and smiling as she watched them go, excited to see her reaction later.

the pair went to different people, each one giving a sticky note that led to other people.

“jeez! how much people do we need to end this quest?” [y/n] asked, kirishima holding all of the sticky notes in his pocket. this last sticky note was different, this time it told her to go to the dorm rooms, as something was waiting for her there.

he was finally going to ask her out. after many people telling him to go for it, he got advice from one of his closest female friends, who basically planned all of this out for him.

he held the ramo in his arms, it being bigger than he managed. he was arranged for his guy friends to each hold a rose, then giving it to [y/n] as she walked in. the girls each had a gift from izuku to give to [y/n].

everything was coming together, all they needed was [y/n] to walk through that door.

“hello? where is everyone —“

[y/n] was surprised to been given a flower, then another, then another, each one pushing her forward. she was flustered, having more and more flowers placed in her hands. then, she was suddenly stopped, and then the lights turned on.

there stood izuku, a ramo his arms, a ribbon across the flowers saying ‘will you be my girlfriend?’

“[y/n], will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes!”

#my hero academia #x reader #mha x reader #mha #bnha #hispanic reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia x reader #drowsyhope

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rockatanskette · 6 months

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I see a lot of people in the For All Mankind tag talking about how the pro-US propaganda is blatant and annoying. And it is, but I honestly don't think it could be made any other way and still be as grounded, which is a paradox but I think it's true.

For All Mankind is about the Space Race--its core concept/question is "What if the Space Race didn't end in 1969?" And the answer is, that if the Space Race hadn't ended, the massive propaganda machine built to propel it would keep going.

The entire concept of the Space Race was 100 percent organic, grass-fed Cold War propaganda, on both sides. My grandparents got married in Moscow the year Yuri Gagarin flew on Vostok 1; my dad watched Neil Armstrong take his first steps on the moon. Both were touted in their home nations as the height of human achievement and a mark of their nations' supremacy over their rival.

There's no way to convincingly depict the social climate of an extended Space Race without including a ton of propaganda. If you want to depict a more collaborative, less propagandistic timeline, that's the one we live in--an international space station (lowercase, not the same as the ISS) was proposed as a joint US/USSR collaboration as early as 1970. But unfortunately, the Cold War intensified in the 70s and because NASA was no longer a prominent fixture in the everyday American mind, politicians cut its funding.

For All Mankind actually depicts the friction between propaganda and reality pretty well, I think. They comment on the irony of the quote "We came in peace for all mankind" within the first episode, I think (currently don't have Apple TV so can't check) and, without going into detail, the show demonstrates throughout the decades how an atmosphere of propaganda and building to win damages international relations, public trust in science, and corrupts the very basis of why space exploration is so wonderful.

Just because they have space hotels and advanced technology does not mean that For All Mankind is meant to depict an ideal timeline or even a better timeline. It depicts a timeline where the goal is to win; not to explore, not to understand, and certainly not to collaborate. Most of the most inspiring real-world projects of the later 20th century aren't even considered important in the world of For All Mankind, just stepping stones to plant flags. If science does happen, it's a byproduct. If progress happens, it's in spite of the governments depicted, not because of it.

That's a world that's super interesting to watch, because it knows it needs the propaganda to move forward--and because it knows the propaganda is a lie.

#i almost called real life the 'canon timeline' i need to go to bed #for all mankind #it seems like they're planning on doing an iss thing but on mars in season 4 which should be interesting

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americanrecord · 4 months

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what religious inspiration did you use for each character? and are they currently religious in the series?

(i notice you reblog a lot of imagery)

<333

hiii <3 omg there must be a religious zealot on the loose, just saw an ask like this!! but i love the question as religion, in a way, is like the centerpiece of this work. at least for half the characters.

side-note, one of the biggest things to me about these characters was fitting them into the pre-existing historical context, so it’s why i’ll make a lot of historical references here and in the text. it’s important to me that these characters feel like they existed in the time period i designed them to, and not like i was just dropping them there and saying: stick! i’m also really interested in religion for an atheist, so…i was carefully to put my energy and extensive research into fleshing these out!! this got so long…

so i’ll start easiest — kit knows no god and owes no god, he’s atheist & religion doesn’t play a role in his personal philosophy in the slightest. he is, however, a gay man in the 1980s/90s, meaning other people will project their religion onto him.

but it’s not something he pays mind to. (or any extra mind to, as—for example—lex would). he faces the world with two middle fingers, but it’s ignorant to think he wouldn’t be affected by half of society opposing how he loves. he was kicked out of his parents house at 18 for his sexuality, and it definitely was based on religion, but they were also reaganites, so that says enough. he was also already on his way out; kid with a calling for punk wasn’t gonna last in a “just say no!” household. [also, as an italian-irish man, his family was catholic, and regan did win half the catholic vote (majority of those being white, thus…)]. anyway, no religion.

inez’s parents are both puerto rican immigrants, where 75-85% percent of the population is roman catholic. thus, she was raised catholic, and her family still is catholic — she, however, does not adhere and never really has. she has no sort of catholic trauma or anything [no more than the average catholic]. (though, i think she does tend toward the moral black-and-whiteness of somebody raised devoutly religious.)

it was something she lost interest in early on and not necessarily something her parents forced on her. one thing about inez — you aren’t going to tell her how to think. her parents knew that, her parents love her to death but openly acknowledge her as an odd one out, so they didn’t put their energy into that anymore than they did anything else. it led to a fair bit of distance, but so did inez pursuing art, and that definitely caused a larger rift than inez no longer attending mass after the age of like 15-16. i do know she’s confirmed, but it was more of a going through the motions thing versus some big coming-of-age, world-ending moment that it was for valerie. thus, no religion materializes in her imagery/vibe because she doesn’t revere a god.

she is still spiritual, however. honestly, if anybody were to get into things like astrology, crystals, tarot — anything like that — it would be her. she doesn’t, but some might assume so because she has very 90s whimsigoth feel. she’s not even extremely spiritual though, she just thinks there is an afterlife and a higher power (somebody watching over), but she doesn’t know what. agnosticism therefore might be an interesting concept for her. she does treasure things like meditation, and nature, and kindness, but not even because she’ll “go somewhere bad if she doesn’t” but because she finds it personally beneficial to her life and her own happiness.

steven: jewish! he’s jewish and he’s proud of it. this being more from an ethnic standpoint — he’s an ethiopian jew — because he’s not super strict otherwise/religiously. i think he definitely kept kosher growing up (his family still does), and he tries his best to in his adult life, but he’s not 100% perfect all the time. this is solely because of his life’s context — being a starving artist and then a traveling artist for most of his young-adult life, he would sometimes take what he could get. he still, however, avoids pig meat and stuff from the hindquarters of an animal (not that he’s getting many expensive steaks early in his career), and he washes his fruits and veggies throughly (inez shoved these down his throat) — not only for the kosher aspect of it, but because not washing your fruits/veggies is gross.

he also wears a silver star of david always and celebrates hanukah and observes other jewish holidays, if only casually. he might spend time with his family during these times. inez made sure to set up a menorah on the window sill beside the christmas tree. i really like to think post-series, into domesticity, it’s a lot easier for him to abide by the rules and customs of his religion, but i do think he struggles with a bit of the faith-based aspect of it as a gay man. still, he’s proud of his heritage and religion.

again, atheist. like kit, he really has no interest in religion, but he does take up more of a philosophical approach to life than kit does. when he’s miserable, we see a little bit of nihilism and misanthropy peek into the way he views the world. but he acknowledges no spirits or gods or really any presence of a higher power (or an afterlife beyond the ones that most people just casually reference in conversation — i.e. saying/thinking your dead mother is watching over you even if you don’t actually believe in heaven, just because it’s a comforting thought.

his father is white, basic protestant (but died in vietnam when dean was like two so nobody cares), but his mother is syrian. she speaks arabic and did bring this cultural influence into dean’s life—but she was also not muslim (was raised so) so much as she was spiritual. by the time she got to america (one of the things lex and dean bond over were their immigrant mothers), she was much more interested in the wide-open topic of “religious freedom” and just experimenting and learning about all of the faiths the country had to offer. evangelism, islam, judaism, hinduism, buddhism, catholicism, pentecostalism, all the isms, you name it — every branch. dean cites that his mother would “change her religion every week” because she liked to sit in on different services and hear the messages, visit booths at craft fairs, talk to strangers, etc, because she was just fascinated by humankind and their tendency toward higher power more so than she was finding one for herself.

the day dean and lex met, she was sitting in on a service of lex’s father’s. lex came out of the church afterward, saw dean sitting in the lawn (because he never really tagged along), and recognized him from school so he approached him, and…history from that point onward. it was this respect for religion without the ownership of religion’s oppressive tendencies that lex sooo loved about dean’s mother. she was a very comforting mother figure to him. dean’s mother also had him when she was 16, and right about the counterculture/summer of love time, so she just very much had a open mind to everything + faced everything with love. she was very supportive of dean when she learned he was in love with lex.

but, anyway! dean shucked all of that the moment she died. very much said to himself that none of her religions could save her so he therefore had no interest in pursuing them himself.

born and bred in the backwoods of indiana before moving to detroit, lex was raised in an iron-fist evangelist household. the fourth great awakening had a grip on the foster family and took up every aspect of his life. still does, in a way. his father was a reverend at a local matchbox chapel in indiana before they moved for…reasons, and then became involved in something a little more consolidated/concrete in the city, but he’s a preacher’s son through and through. and it’s funny that his father married a russian woman, because he is the stock character for what you think of when you think red scare/mccarthyism/nixon-era silent majority/bible-banging archie bunker/jesus freak, but that’s another topic of conversation (his father’s tendency toward pursuing what he opposes so he can subjugate it).

thus, not only was lex raised in a household that breathed the fear of god into everything (including all forms of media (even the comics lex loved as a child) and therefore lived a very oppressive, very unhappy, very dreary (some might say totalitarian like the conditions his mother escaped after fleeing russia post missile crisis) childhood, he was also raised in an abusive household. so there was the mental hell of borderline fundamentalist christianity and also the physical abuse of his father (and the neglect of his mother when it mattered). it was a miserable childhood until he made a friend in dean at age 14.

thus, realistically, one can imagine the effect this has a on a person, and lex found himself unable to let it go. he is still religious and will always, but in his own way. in his very specific, very cherry-picked, very very personal way. he rejects common christian principles of homophobia, bible-based racism (just racism in general, but you know what i mean), anti-choice politics, strict creationism in schools, and the subjugation of women. he’s very violently left-leaning politically, is very out-spoken about it, and it’s quite obvious in the way he carries himself that he has a very progressive state of mind despite what he was instilled with. he also could not care less about other people and their religion, meaning — he’s not one to impose. valerie, naturally—while catholicism falls under christianity—arrives into his life with common religious trauma but a few different beliefs because protestantism =/= catholicism. there are differences far beyond the imagery and far beyond what they’ll ever see eye to eye on, solely because they were force-fed different things.

still, he struggles. he acknowledges there is a god, but he feels betrayed, he feels at times abandoned, and he feels always watched regardless. he has a very strict moral code as seen in somebody religious (albeit one skewed) and he struggles with things like honesty, right/wrong, and just a sense of balance in general. if he’s not holy and justified, he’s immoral and evil. this is just the consequnece—plain and simple—of being hated not only by your father for seventeen years of your life before being ultimately kicked out for failing to fulfill the standards of a golden son he never will be, but being told — in conjunction — that god hates you too. there’s a constant war between: yes, i know god hates me and well, i hate god too, and the subsequent desire to please god that comes from the first and the subsequent guilt of blasphemy in the second.

he won’t ever let go of this, but he will find god on his own terms by the series’ end and will settle his soul in a way that doesn’t tear him to shreds to do it. it’s all he wants/it’s all he prays for — to have god in peace. because of that, religion absolutely permeates his vibe. he’s tattooed up and down the stretch with reminders, he wears his cross, it’s major fodder for his art, because there is nothing that makes him hurt like religion, but there’s also nothing (besides LOVE!) that makes him feel to such a degree, and he’d rather put it on track than he would keep it in his head.

and it’s very special to me for him to be able to do this, likely coming from a family with crazy evangelicals, and it’s really rewarding and fitting for his character to come to a healing place within his religion and to be accept that he doesn’t need to live like his father did because all he needs to do, really, is love his neighbor and accept the presence of jesus as his savior. (sounds so religious, but it’s simple). his religion is his problem and he never makes it anything else.

okay, i’ve arguably put the most thought into her. just because her story has been carefully tailored by me for like three and a half years now. i walked on to the scene with the desire to make a catholic character because i watched supernatural just like any other middle school girl, but it was never just about vibes and rosaries, i had a genuine interest and i have no real attachment to catholicism—so it was just a passion project to learn enough to write about a character who deals with it so in-depth.

so, yes, she’s catholic, but she fluctuates more so than any other character on whether or not she adheres to it. she wasn’t strictly raised this way either. not at first. it was a loose presence in her home until she was 13. after which her father left her, and her mother went off the deep end. she took the catholicism they already had and had her own sort of “reawakening.” valerie tells lex that her mom went crazy after her dad left, and when he asks what she means by that, she simply answers that she found god. (however, in truth, she rediscovered god). so valerie went from a very carefree, happy childhood, to an oppressive and incredibly impoverished religious household after losing her father’s mild intervention and financial assistance.

everybody knows at this point that she lived in a trailer, but she’s also the victim of a hoarding mother who notoriously quit jobs that paid in pursuit of “church service jobs” where most of her money went back to the church and the community. valerie resents her for this, saying it was lovely that they children at the drive had new coats, but that she was going without dinner at home because her mother did not routinely buy food. valerie’s aversion toward contamination comes not only from the filthy environment she was raised in, but also the fact that most of her food was not fresh (and, if it was, would spoil quickly) and was boxed/canned food and at risk of bugs/mice/or botulism. she would skip meals frequently because of this and owes her survival to free handouts at her high school — a difficult feat when she was always on display while dating danny, her quarterback football star boyfriend, who was notably wealth(ier.)

anywayyyy, so beyond the financial aspect that caused valerie to resent the solace her mother found in god and prayer, there was also the principles of the religion itself that were hard for her. her mother basically engrained in her that she was going to need a husband if she ever wanted to escape the life she’d been given (the life her mother was always making worse). she had the “sit still, look pretty” upbringing, and it made an abusive romantic relationship very difficult to leave because she was essentially told her entire teenagehood that it was the only way she was getting out of financial hell. it made being a woman difficult, essentially. she’s objectified and victimized throughout her formative years and she’s essentially told men will have their way with her and that they’re allowed to. it takes a lot of unlearning and it causes her a lot of fear, but it’s what makes her relationship with lex very important to her, because he preserves her autonomy and never encroaches on it (even when he hypocritically, strongly insists against using hard drugs lol).

but she makes it to seattle and is in state where she hasn’t really fought her religious trauma yet. lex’s is a constant battle; valerie, on the other hand, has mastered the art of repression. the last time she attended mass was the sunday before she left and she never looks back, she keeps her rosary in a drawer, she doesn’t pray (at least not until i give her reason to), and…yeah. that cross necklace is really the only mark of a “religious” girl, but she labels wearing it irony. and then the series persists, her life and her experiences muddle, and she’s forced to confront what she hasn’t and/or what she’s written off. she hasn’t actually answered any of the questions on whether or not she believes in god, and if the problem was god or the way god was thrust upon her (aka: would she be open to a higher power if it wasn’t diluted by backwards modern christian thought?). she gets to combat her catholic guilt and the sort of shame and guilt that follow her in her pursuit of hedonistic pleasure, which is aplenty in the life she lives, and she gets to cope with the ramifications she imposes on herself when hardship falls upon her — who she blames for issues out of control (herself, her mother, her father, god?).

needless to say, then, she will struggle much more than lex in terms of closing out those big open-ended questions in the sense that she doesn’t. it’s an ambitious task to untangle somebody’s religious crisis, and an unrealistic pursuit to believe she can do it in 4-5 years to perfectly fit the series after a decade and a half of hell. she might always be wondering whether there actually is a god, but she won’t fear the unknown. it may comfort her enough for lex to say that there’s no way he’s getting into heaven if she won’t, therefore at least they’ll be in hell together, which—if they’re together, then it isn’t hell. but she’ll make great strides in terms unlearning the principles of shame, guilt, male objectification, male entitlement, and the forced repression/servitude of women in religious spheres, which is more than enough of a start. she leads a lot freer of a life by time she reaches seattle and she’s practically unburdened (despite her wondering) by the series’ end.

thus — lots of imagery for her, because her religious crisis & it’s ups and down are a major part of her character’s personal journey & always have been. always will be.

thanks for asking!

#❀ — valerie evans.#♱ — lex volkov.#☼ — inez garcía.#☽ — dean walker blue.#✮ — steven turner.#⊛ — kit donovan.#☘︎ — q&a.#✉︎ — confessions.

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