I'll update this as I go because idk what I want to do with this blog yet. I may or may not post about my writing/art.
I'm Night, she/her. I like DC, Star Wars, FNAF, Hunger Games, and Criminal Minds. (I have more interests, but these are probably the only things I'll really post about lol).
Feel free to reach out to me! I love making friends~
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Blog Guide:
# nightly rambles - my rambles lol
# slaughterhouse duology - Anything and everything to do with my hunger games fic series
# lamb to the slaughter fanfic / # pushing up daisies fanfic - if you want to search content specifically related to one of these fics
Socials:
AO3: night_erudite
Current works under cut
|| Fics
The Slaughterhouse Duology - will link fanfic here once itās posted !! - tumblr | ao3
Random post war zutara HC I have: Katara initially returns to the Northern Water Tribe to learn more about her bending right after the war. Once she's satisfied that she's learned as much as she can from the Northern masters, she returns to the Southern Water Tribe to start a bending school there. It isn't until she declares her first southern student a master that she gets engaged to Zuko (he asked her once five years before but when she told him she wasn't ready yet he respected her decision), and makes a more permanent move to the Fire Nation, taking some of her best healing students with her to learn more about healing burns and to become dignitaries to the water tribes in the Fire Nation. She becomes Fire Lady, but returns often to the south check up on her bending school, and for the dedication of a magnificent statue of herself, built by that very first southern student she declared a master.
Writing Advice (from a writer with multiple completed works and over 1,000,000 words on AO3 and Wattpad)
You can have whole writing sessions without putting down a single word. Stuck in traffic? Listen to a song that inspires you and plot out a scene. Doing the dishes? Talk out an argument between characters while you scrub. Watching a movie? Pay attention to what grabs you and ask yourself, "Can I use this anywhere in my story?"
Learn from other mediums. Pay attention to how artists put loving detail into the most important parts of their paintings but leave the unimportant things blurry. Listen to how musicians and lyricists set tone and mood using only what we can hear. Watch movies and notice how they structure their plots to keep you engaged. Notice how TV shows create long-term character arcs and pay off things set up years ago.
Learn from other genres. How do gothic writers set scenes? How do comedy writers create punchlines? How do romance writers create chemistry? Every genre has its areas it's known for. Study them.
You do actually have to write. Set a goal for yourself to write a little bit every day, even if it's garbage. Books aren't written in 10,000-word sessions. They're written 500, 250, or even just 50 words at a time. Websites like 4TheWords are amazing for this, but you can also find an accountability buddy and go from there.
PLOT. I'm sorry, pantsers, but you need SOMETHING. I recommend using the 5-act structure by asking yourself the following questions: - Where are we starting? - Where are we ending? - What will it take to get from the start to the end? (This should be your biggest turning point) - What will it take to get from the start to the primary turning point? (This will be your first turning point) - What will it take to get from your primary turning point to the end? (This is your tertiary turning point). If you can answer all these questions, congrats, you've got a start, a 3-point middle, and an end, which makes 5 acts.
If you've got writer's block, odds are the issues aren't with what you're writing; it's what you wrote to get there. You took a wrong turn somewhere and are just now realizing it. I recommend going back a scene or two and trying a different direction to see if that fixes any issues.
All your darlings must be employed. If you love a scene and don't want to cut it, that's fine. But that scene had better pull its weight and accomplish something in the grander storyline. Otherwise it's a freeloading darling, and as cute as they are, it's time to kill it.
Make a darling graveyard. Hate cutting a scene? Put it in a separate doc to come back to if you can use it elsewhere.
Give yourself an upload cushion. If you're going to upload chapters piece by piece instead of the whole work at once, wait to start uploading until you have a cushion of finished chapters. The math I recommend for calculating your cushion size is: how many chapters you want to upload at a time x 4. So 1 chapter per upload x 4 = a 4-chapter cushion. This way, if you get sick, busy, or the AO3 curse strikes, you've still got time to write and catch up.
WORDS ON THE PAGE ARE BETTER THAN WORDS IN YOUR HEAD. Will every writing session be good? No. Will you hate much of what you write? Probably. But can you do anything with imaginary words that float in your head while you stare at the blank page? NO! So write the darn words and go from there! No matter how bad they are, you'll still be in a better place than you would be without any writing at all.
"I ship zutara because I have issues" good for you. I, an intellectual, ship zutara because zuko gave my #1 girl katara more respect and agency in the 5 episodes they were friends than aang did in a full 3 seasons of "loving" her
summary: It had been an especially bad day for Cerise. She manages to cope with the help of Finnick.
word count: 1,023
tw: slight mention of violence, depiction of panic attack, mentions of alcohol/substance abuse, implied mentions of sex trafficking
a/n: This was inspired by a headcanon I posted earlier about Finnick and my oc Cerise. Iām in the middle of writing my fic about Ceriseās first hunger games, but could not help writing this lil drabble of their first official interaction together!!
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Tears dribbled down her cheeks, pooling on her hands that she used as a muzzle in an attempt to muffle her sobs. It did little to hide the gasps echoing against the walls of the small utility closet. Her body shook uncontrollably as her breaths came in uneven spurts. The only thing keeping her from completely losing all sense was the chill of the tiled floor biting into her legs. It was an inviting burn.
It wasn't supposed to go this way. She had done everything she could to ensure the odds were in her favor. The late nights strategizing in between clients, the schmoozing with sponsors, and the endless meetings with Kit and the rest of the mentors felt like they were caving in on her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
She should have been the champion!
What a fool Cerise was to believe that she could save her best friend. She could practically feel the stickiness of Kit's blood on her hands, as if she were the one to plunge the knife into her gut and not the career tribute.
Her stomach wrenched as the sight of that knife gutted her. A look of surprise crossed Kit's face, as if she was merely inconvenienced and not the very contents of her abdomen spilling onto the grass.
As quickly as it had happened, the deed was done. It wasn't long until the cannon boomed, but those last few minutes were agonizing for Cerise as she watched her friend writhe and twitch. Even when she was faced with sure death, she seemed to fight the light that called to claim her.
Cerise had failed again as a victorāand as a friend. The thought punched her in the gut. Her hands shook at the thought of facing Kit's family. Or maybe they shook for another drink. Or a whole bottle.
The shaking spread to her whole body, violent tremors causing her limbs to seize. Her bursting sobs turned into uneven sputters. Cerise ripped her hands away from her face in an attempt to breathe better. It did little use, her lungs feeling like they were filled with lead.
She needed to leave. She needed to go somewhere else. Where to? She didn't know. Cerise wanted out. She needed to get up and find a safe place. But what place was safe? She would figure it out. She always did. Somehow.
But her limbs refused to move. They stayed in place, sprawled uselessly on the floor of the utility closet. They felt like they weighed a ton. It didn't matter how much her teary eyes willed her legs to bend so she could shakily get to her feet.
They just refused to move.
Her breath came faster and faster.
Was she poisoned? Maybe she finally pissed someone off enough to want to finally get rid of her. The pain in her chest and the wildness of her heart was evidence enough.
But when would she ever be that lucky to leave so easily?
She didn't deserve it. Not after how she failed Kit. Or the other tributes she's mentored. What were their names? All she could recall was hazy flashes of them between the booze and their bloody deaths.
Light blinded her. The tears coating her eyes reflected it all back to her, and she could barely see the shadowy figure looming above her.
Was it a Peacekeeper?
An unsuspecting avox?
Cerise braced herself to be grabbed by whoever it was. Her hyperventilating worsened.
"Oh, Cerise!"
The figure knelt down, firm hands slowly being placed on her shoulders. She flinched a bit at the touch, but their hands held firm.
The slight warmth felt like a tether to her.
"Hey, hey! Listen to me." His hands moved from her shoulders to gently cupping her face, tilting her head so she was looking at his face. He started taking deep, slow breaths. "In, one, two, three, four, five. Hold, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three, four, five."
They stayed there on the floor of the utility closet breathing. Slowly, Cerise's breathing settled to a choppy but slower interval, hiccups interrupting the rhythm every so often.
Her tears subsided, and as her eyes got used to the darkness again, she finally got a good look at Finnick Odair.
Her mind was too exhausted to sort through how he managed to find her. Or why he cared enough to help her.
They never talked more than what was necessary as fellow victors from differing districts. That was fine enough for Cerise. She found his arrogance and preening a bit muchāit didn't make for good wallowing company.
But this was a different side of the Capitol Darling. A softer side. One not meant for the cameras. Or even her. Why was he showing this side of him to her? Why did he care enough to help her?
"There we go," Finnick said. He moved his hands back to her arms and rubbed them up and down. The motion was grounding for Cerise, feeling even her shaking subside from violent tremors to slight trembling.
Cerise tilted her head back until it hit a wall. She closed her eyes. Tears still stained her cheeks and they started to itch a bit.
"Why?" Cerise croaked out, her curiosity getting the better of her, and mind too foggy to even think about niceties.
"Sometimes we need a friend to help us out," Finnick shrugged.
He sat back on his heels before fully sitting down, leaning against the door. Neither one of them talked as Cerise continued to put herself back together, one piece at a time.
She did not think about the prying eyes that will claw at her once she leaves the sanctuary of the closet. Nor did she think about the fact that her responsibilities as a mentor were done for the year now that both her tributes were dead. And, she definitely didn't think about their arrival back to District Ten and the betrayed looks she'll have to face.
No, Cerise savored the little bit of piece that Finnick helped create for her, and that was good enough for now.
I just saw an early showing of supergirl and I donāt wanna say much cuz I donāt wanna spoil anything. as someone who has looked up to her since I was like 5, I fuckin loved this movie. It doesnāt try to make Kara someone who she isnāt, they donāt try to make her fit into the mold of a ānormalā female superhero. And I am so goddamn grateful for that. 10/10 best female superhero movie Iāve ever seen (and prolly in my top 5 superhero movies in general)
I kinda imagine that, during the times they have to mentor tributes, Cerise and Finnick find comfort in each other. Both of them are too exhausted to do anymore than just sit together and hold each other (and tbh, with theirā¦ jobs.. in the Capitol, neither one wants to do much more anyway). I almost imagine it the same vibes as line cooks sitting out back with whatever they could find in the kitchen to eat after a long shift. Theyāre both hazed from exhaustion and their own vices, but clinging onto each other as if letting go, they would crumble
we went from ājust google itā to ājust ask chatgptā too fast.
people in my life, my friends, family, colleagues, they donāt say āgoogle itā anymore. they just say āask chatā, ājust ask chatā, ālet me ask chatgpt real quickā. like only a few years ago we were googling shit man
Thinking about this again and the pure annoyance I get when my mom tells me to ask ai whenever I donāt know something. Like, excuse you, Iām going to search it up and see what Wikipedia and Reddit say like a respectable person, thank you very much
"You just have a bias in favor of women" yeah duh? Yes I am biased in favor of women and female characters. I do this proudly and purposely, as a direct response to systemic misogyny. I keep in mind that anyone who is female is always treated worse than they deserve, and I purposely adjust my perceptions to compensate. It's called feminism. Keep up. Flicks you on the forehead
