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#beat writers block
novlr · 2 days
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“One word after another. That’s the only way that novels get written.” — Neil Gaiman
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Juicy Tips: Maintaining Focus
One of the biggest difficulties in the writer’s life is maintaining focus! For some writers this isn’t actually too difficult, but many of us also have the tendency to struggle with this. It can be much harder for writers who are neurodivergent, or it can simply be based on how big your workload is! Either way, here are some tips that might help you to improve your focus when writing.
Personally I’ve also found it difficult for the longest time. There are all kinds of ways you can trick your brain into working more efficiently while writing, though, and I’m just going to share some things I’ve picked up over the years. Some have arrived via my own discovery and others have been taught to me by mentors and tutors. The goal of this juicy tip piece is to help out writers who are struggling to focus on their work for any reason. It may or may not help you out! Here’s the basic rundown:
Setting The Mood
The brain is pretty easy to train, pavlov style, if you know how. The story goes, ring a bell every time you feed your pet and your pet will eventually become hungry whenever they hear the bell.
Try setting up a routine to get your brain into “writing mode” and stick to it, more or less. What I like to do is brew a hot drink, get myself a snack and then put on one of my playlists. Sometimes I might even go outside for a quick walk before sitting down to write. I find that some genres of music also help me write better than others. I also have two specific places in my apartment that I like to write, and I like to make sure that I’m fully comfortable so I can concentrate.
Setting up ‘rituals’ and specific environments to write in can gradually improve your ability to focus and produce more writing. It isn’t by any means a quick solution, but in the long run it can be the best decision. If you have a hard time remembering, maybe write something on a post-it note and place it near your work space to remind you of your rituals.
Fine-tune Your Surroundings
Make sure your surroundings are fully prepared for your writing session. Anything that can distract or disrupt your work flow should be dealt with. If you need to put your phone on silent, go ahead and do that. If you have books and comics on your desk it might be a good idea to move them out of arms reach so you don’t feel tempted to read instead. 
Make sure your work area is tidy, too. If you have a lot of clutter and chaos on your desk or table, and I mean more than usual, go ahead and move some stuff around. I know I’m guilty of leaving things out on my desk and it tends to make my space feel more cramped. A messy space can worsen messy thinking, and tidying it up can help you get into the right mindset. If you want to really focus and work at your best, tidying up can make a world of difference.
Anything that you might need should be close at hand! You should have a drink, a light snack and other essentials handy. I like to have a chapstick on my desk, for example, as well as a pen pot and all the notebooks and scraps of paper I might need to look at for notes I’ve made. If you have a corkboard, this is a great place to pin up notes for quick access. It’s important that your space is constructed to help you write and to keep you inspired.
If it helps, hang up things that inspire you - decorations, artworks or even photographs that spark some kind of creativity in you. I’ve got all sorts of things pinned up on the walls in my office area, from my own artwork to posters to decorative items I found in thrift stores. Surround yourself with inspiration and make sure you’re comfortable.
Break Down Your Tasks And Notes
A task can feel much more intimidating and harder to pull off, if it seems nebulous or unstructured. We all have different ways of compartmentalising our tasks, whether it be with a list or a table, or even just using sticky notes. If you don’t know what works best for you it may be a good idea to experiment.
Making some form of organised document to tell you what needs to be done can make the whole task of writing easier. This can be in regards to juggling multiple projects, or even just in the context of one thing you’re working on. If you’re struggling to plot your stories or plan your essays, maybe starting with a list of things that need to occur within the work will help. From there, you can create other lists to keep track of names, dates and even story beats. Before you know it, you should find that your ideas are a bit easier to process. Sometimes you might need a table or graph of some sort for your world building. You might find that other formats work better for you. No matter how you use these things, they can help you map things out and break them down. Making your information and notes easy to read will streamline your workflow.
You might find that planning too much is dangerous though - never over-do it with your lists and tables. You don’t need a list for everything or a sticky note for everything; sometimes you might find that mixing and matching these methods is best for you. Eventually you will find the sweet spot that most writers have, somewhere between neat organisation and improvisation.
Enlist Assistance Where Needed
Know when to tackle something head on, and when to admit that you’re not able to do it alone. It’s best to have friends that are also interested in writing so that you can assist each other whenever needed or even just show them your ideas so that you can enthuse about them together. The added enthusiasm of others can be a strong motivator to continue, and they could even offer input to help develop your work.
Even if you don’t have writer friends, you can always bring in friends who have enthusiasm for fiction in general - a friend who is an avid reader, or who has interest in the genre or format you’re writing in. They could always offer input as well, in a pinch. Don’t be afraid to ask, even if they’re not able to help. It’s always worth trying to reach out. Other writers and enthusiasts can be found online as well, if real-life friends aren’t able to assist you.
For more informative posts, inspiration and ideas to help you improve as a writer, follow this blog! I post often and also take requests for specific advice. FJWS is funded by your donations.
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ohmysatan42 · 5 months
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I beat writers block over the head with a stick until it hides under the bed. Take that writers block!!!!
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muffinlance · 2 months
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Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue
THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.
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venuszn · 5 months
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☆ : The Elevator
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Summary / You and Bada are rival choreographers under the same company. Bada has always treated you differently and you didn’t know why. You convinced yourself that you hated her for it. But you’re both forced to face each other one evening when the company elevator breaks down and there’s no where to hide - from each other and ur feelings.
Cw / Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff
Authors note / So I wrote parts of this sober, tipsy and then hungover . . . And then wishing I was drunk lmao. It’s not my best piece of work I’ve been feeling a little demotivated but here u guys go <3
Wc / 2.3K words
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“We appreciate that the two of you are this company's top performing choreographers. That is why we asked you both here today, as we would like to discuss the possibility of the both of you collaborating together to create a new, fresh, but distinct style that will suit our new girl groups debut.”
“I understand. But personally, I believe that my style is enough on its own and does not need additional input to achieve the vibe you are aiming for.”
Bada’s words smack you across the face and you feel your eye twitch. Your nails pick at the fabric of the chair beneath you as you force your anger down, swallowing the words of bile bubbling in your throat.
“No offence of course, to you.” She doesn’t even look at you as she says your name.
Your mouth stretches in a wry tightlipped smile. “Oh no, none taken. I actually feel the same. I’m confident enough in my own abilities. And I feel like collaborating with a dance style such as Bada’s might throw the vibe off entirely - which would be unfortunate. But of course no offence to you, Bada.” You say as you turn to face her, offering an empty smile.
Bada scoffs.
You’re both snapped out of it when you hear the aggressive clearing of the director's throat. “Well, I've heard what you both have to say. As much as I would have hoped for a little more professionalism, we do not have the time to waste trying to force you both to work together. So this is how it will be - the both of you will create your own separate choreographies and will perform them in 3 weeks time. We will be choosing one for the debut. Good luck to you both. You’re excused.”
You both bow and make your way out of the office and into the corridor. You walk ahead of Bada, irritation fuelling your steps as you enter the elevator. You turn to see Bada, a few steps behind you and out of pure pettiness you repeatedly press the button to close the elevator doors.
But to no avail as her long legs play to her advantage and she catches the doors just in time.
“You can’t keep doing that whenever you see me. You’ll break the elevator.”
“Then maybe take the stairs.”
Bada rolls her eyes.
Bada stands beside you, hands in her pockets as she looks ahead.
“My dance style might throw the vibe off entirely ?” She echoes your words from earlier with amusement.
“Yeah. What are you going to make those poor girls do ? Grab their crotches and start thrusting ?”
Bada scoffs and leans over you, a little too close for you liking, to press the button for the ground floor.
You feel her presence infiltrate your personal space like a bulldozer to a glass wall - because to Bada you were as transparent as can be and she could see right through you.
“Big talk coming from you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean ?”
“It means that I can see through this act you have going on and that I know you don’t hate me.”
You wish the elevator would surpass the ground floor and plummet into the fiery mouth of hell.
“Go to hell.” You hammer back.
“You didn't deny it.” You can almost hear Bada’s smirk.
You feel the rage rise within you - rage once tamed like the flame of a candle now igniting a stick of dynamite as you feel yourself losing your composure.
“I do hate you actually.”
You spin to face her, eyes locking with hers, the amusement evident within them as she raises a brow.
“I hate how you look down on me.”
You hold your ground, eyes bearing into her soul as you continue your barrage of words.
“I hate how you dismiss me. You have never once given me a chance. I don’t know what I did to you but one day you decided that I wasn’t worth your time or effort. You do not know me, Bada. But you have decided that you hate me.”
Bada’s eyes stare back into yours, void of amusement but replaced with another emotion unknown to you.
“I don't hate you, actually.”
The elevator comes to a stop as it arrives at its destination on the ground floor - regrettably not hell.
“I don’t care about you enough to hate you.”
Bada brushes past you and swiftly exits through the doors without sparing you a glance.
You stand frozen as you watch her leave. Her words bouncing around your ears in a dance of jest.
Only that it wasn't amusing.
In that moment you promised yourself that you did, in fact, hate Bada Lee. And that you would never take an elevator alone with her again.
How wrong you were.
Three weeks quickly passed by and it was the night before the deadline. Despite the fact that it was a Sunday evening, you found yourself back at the company building in hopes of quickly squeezing in one last practice before the morning - and what better place to do it than in the very room you would be dancing in.
You approach the elevator doors and you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You turn and scoff as you cant believe your luck, or lack thereof.
Bada walks towards you, cap donning her pink and black hair as she looks down to her phone, not yet noticing you. You deliberate for a moment whether to shut the doors on her now that she's not paying attention or to suck up your pride and let her take the damn elevator with you as it’s nighttime and you’re probably the only ones in the building.
The angel on your shoulder won and you folded your arms taking a step back to lean against the wall as you watched her approach.
As she gets closer, Bada lifts her head up and her eyes meet yours.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Are you stalking me now ?”
Bada scoffs in incredulity and steps in.
“I guess we both had the same idea.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
You press the button to go up and you both stand there . The sound of the elevator making its ascent fills the void of silence between you. You stand there in disbelief of your luck, wondering if tonight could get any worse.
It did.
The four metal walls begin to quake as a shrill cry of metal scraping together slices through the once silent air.
You feel your body jump in shock as you grip onto the railing. Your head snaps to look at Bada but her eyes are already focused on you - wide and alert as you see her arm almost instinctively stretching out for you.
Before you can register anything, your bodies are bounced around once more and the electricity crackles and hisses before it blacks out entirely.
The elevator comes to a halt and you are both swallowed in darkness.
Bada immediately calls your name, voice laced with concern.
“Bada ? I'm here. I’m sitting down”
“Are you alright ?” She makes her way over to you, following the sound of your trembling voice before she crouches down in front of you as you sit on the ground knees to your chest.
The emergency lights flicker on, your eyes adjust and you blink to see Bada Lee mere centimetres away from you as she looks at you with the most emotion you've ever seen her show outside of dancing.
Bada blinks back at you, eyes staring into yours as she manages to observe how shaken you are. A feeling squeezed at her heart and she internally scolds herself.
Bada quickly rises to her feet. Now able to vaguely see, she takes a couple steps towards the elevator buttons and wastes no time in ringing the alarm.
Silence follows the rings as you both hold your breath, waiting and praying for someone to pick up.
“It’s a Sunday night, there’s probably no on-”
You're cut off by the voice of a man on the other side. Bada lets out a breath of relief and she takes control, explaining to the person your dilemma and securing you both your release.
Bada then makes her way back over to you and you feel her sit besides you. The dim overhead light permitting you to see her but only vaguely.
“Are you alright ?” She says your name tenderly.
You feel your throat tighten and you swallow hard. “I’m fine. Just a little claustrophobic but I'll be alright.”
“The maintenance guy said a minimum of three hours.”
“Yeah . . .” You mutter into your knees as you hold your arms around them tighter. Insecurity crawling its way around your mind. “Sorry you're stuck on here with me. We don’t have to talk or anything.”
“Stop . . . Just, stop.” Bada removes her jacket and places it around you without another word.
You both sit in silence, besides each other. You don't know how long it has been but it feels like forever and you pray that the girl beside you is unaware of the pounding echoing in your chest and the chorus of thoughts overlapping each other within your mind. You curse at yourself for getting into this position; ‘what kind of sick game is the universe playing ?’, you ask yourself.
“You know, when I said I didn’t hate you I meant it.” Bada’s words pull you out of your thoughts.
“Like you also meant that you didn't care about me. Which I can understand, we’re not friends. We don’t really know each other.”
“What if I want to know you more ?”
“What ?’
Bada shuffles in her spot beside you and clears her throat. She begins by saying your name gently.
“I don’t actually hate you. Or not care about you.”
You freeze in your spot, eyes locked on the vague darkness in front.
Bada continues, eyes locked but on you.
“I know that you don’t hate me either. That made everything so much harder.”
“W-what do you mean ?”
“I mean that I needed you to hate me. I needed to act like an ass around you and push you away before we even got close.”
“But why wo-”
“Because I have feelings for you.”
You feel your heart skip multiple beats.
“Fuck. Ever since you walked through those company doors you caught my attention. The way you carried yourself, how hardworking you were and how insanely talented you were - it all blew me away.”
You slowly turned to face Bada.
“And of course, how beautiful you are. I knew that I couldn't have you. I have a rule I've always stuck to which is not mixing work with pleasure. Then I saw how you would look at me and I knew I was done for. So I started to do everything to avoid you and to push you away.”
“Oh how selfless of you.” You say dryly.
“You made me feel like shit, Bada. For how many months you made me think I did something wrong or that I hurt you. You’re such a fucking coward.” You sniffle as you bury your head into your knees.
“I know. I know and I won't deny that. But here now, with you, I’m ready to step up and to face my feelings towards you. I can’t ignore them any longer and I can’t ignore you any longer. There’s been so many times where I’ve wanted to hold you - to touch you. To laugh with you or comfort you. I want to do all of that and more. That’s if you'll accept me . . .”
Bada gently guides your cheek and you let her, turning your head to face her as she holds you tenderly under her fingertips.
You feel heat travel through you from her touches and you lick your lips in nervousness. Bada’s eyes immediately flicker down to meet the sight of them. Her eyes then meet with yours, the both of you allowing the gravity of your attraction to pull your faces closer together.
Lips mere breaths away from each other, your hands find their way to rest on her shoulders as Bada slightly tilts her head and your lashes flutter shut.
“Is this my answer ?” Bada whispers onto your lips.
You inch forwards intending to close the gap.
But the sound of the doors prying open interrupts snapping the both of you out the moment causing you to jump back away from each other.
The bright light of a torch shines through the doors and you turn to see that you are being freed.
You look over at Bada, face a little flushed. Bada clears her throat and rises before offering you her hand and helping you up.
You feel butterflies travel down your arm to your stomach.
You both thank the guy and quickly exit, making your way out of the company doors before you realise that your hand is still in hers.
You blush and attempt to let go but you feel Bada grip your hand firmer as she leads the both of you out into the darkness of the night.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
You smile to yourself at her words and you find yourself lowering all of your defences for Bada Lee - the person you swore you hated.
Tag list / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! If you’d like to be tagged for future Bada fics lmk !!
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qcomicsy · 25 days
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I have the controversial opinion that maybe, just maybe we stop wanting to go after people with pitchforks for getting characters wrong and not reading the comics inviting them to easy and accessible ways of and making our own content with comic accurate representation
people might feel less anxious about starting comics and misinformation won't spread as easily
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Okay but imagine you moved in with Katsuki with your dog and he’s very strict that the dog will not sleep in the bed with you.
Your dog is your baby, he’s cute and cuddly and also keeps your feet warm at night but no matter how much you argue about it, the dog is sleeping in his little bed.
Of course your dog is confused by this change, he doesn’t really like Bakugou as is and cries throughout the night. But Katsuki puts him back in the dog bed every time your dog paws at the foot of the bed.
Then, you leave for a week for work.
You’re a bit nervous leaving your beloved pooch behind with your boyfriend, but Katsuki reassured you he wouldn’t lose the mutt. Or purposely leave the front door open, or give him away if the dog chews up one of his beloved All Might figurines again.
Bakugou was nice enough to send daily photos of your dog, proof that they’re okay and that Katsuki is keeping his word.
When you return home, it’s late and you quietly get ready for bed.
Katsuki doesn’t stir when you pull up the comforter to get into your side of the bed, but you’re shocked to see your dog all curled up next to your boyfriend.
“Hey Katsuki, what happened to the dog sleeping in their own bed,” You laugh, making both of them wake up.
Your dog is excited to see you, his tail wagging like crazy as he gives you sloppy kisses. Katsuki sits up and groans.
“Asshole here waits until I’m dead asleep to hop on the bed. He’s so warm, I don’t even notice until the morning,” Bakugou said.
You curl up into bed with them, the bed seeming more crowded now but you don’t mind at all. Giving Katsuki a kiss, you mumble, “I didn’t know you turned into such a softie.”
Katsuki scoffed, but continued petting the dogs head that was asleep on his lap.
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winters0689 · 5 months
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POV: You Brought Up When His Next Book Is Coming Out
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shhh-secret-time · 5 days
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hello ^^, i saw your secret soulmate au about craig, i don't have the words to explain how much i giggled, twirled my hair and everything XD! well, when you have the time, could you do a craig x clyde x reader smut? of course, if you feel comfortable with it! reader can be female or gn. it's practically normal smut but just craig fucking the reader from behind and clyde from the front, so that's it! tysm for reading, i love your writing too! <33 -✨️ Anon (I'm still new to tumblr so i might get confused on some things sometimes!)
Completely understandable, I too am confused with how tumblr works and I've been on this godless site since fucking Dash Con. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote those dorks! And thank you for fueling my Clyde agenda!
Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Sub/Dom dynamics, blow jobs, orgasm denial, threesome
Pairing: Clyde x Fem!Reader x Craig
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The sweet air of the votives swirls around the empty church. Empty except for the dim orange and red light that illuminates the book in the man's hand.
A woman at his feet, clothed in fine silks. A mix of reds and whites that twine together. Beautiful patterns of stars flow across the dress.
She dips her head in prayer alongside the man. The father of the church glides his fingers across her cheek as her mouth closes. Reciting scriptures of one's devotion for an unseen God. Everything in that moment was peaceful.
The warmth in the Father's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, the greens darken with a desire that he knows better than to have. It's difficult to hide the growing ache in his pants. More so when the woman's lips curl into a mischief smile, the warm glow of the candles makes them shine with an otherworldly glow. She looks up at him and her eyes fall deep into those pools of lust. Her hands break apart from that folded prayer and onto his black dress pants. They card up further against his thighs where they settle and clutch the material.
"Father, bless me...", a whisper that makes the Father groan.
Temptation never looked so sweet. This woman made his chest pound. Unholy thoughts flood his mind and go straight to his-
You let out a loud groan. Your forehead drops and hits the table beside your keyboard. The forgotten mug with now cold tea rattles.
Writer’s block, the very bane of any author’s existence. It's been haunting you for weeks now, making it impossible to get anything done. You've been stuck on this part of your romance novel the entire time. A part you were so excited to get to!
The buildup was perfect! You had calculated, plotted, and carefully crafted a budding romance between a witch and a holy man. A forbidden romance that took place within the walls of the church, the furthest outside the walls it went were the gardens that surrounded the area. The two fell in love after he saved her from the townsfolk claiming sanctuary.
Inspiration struck you like lightning after you fell in love with your partners. After publishing a sci-fi series, that honestly changed the name of how science fiction would be written forever, you met two fans at a book signing event. You had made a surprise appearance at a local library in some little town called South Park. Coming from the big city yourself, it was a huge surprise that anyone in the little town would actually be a fan of yours.
Apparently, you had quite a few. A man with bright red hair who had a black-haired man following alongside him. Both gushed about how the story inspired some kind of board game they played with their friends. A sweet blond woman who had the cutest southern accent you've ever heard. She gave you a piece of fan mail that had the most adorable sticker on it. Another black-haired man who dressed as Spock for some reason. He went on for a solid thirty minutes about a fanfic he wrote regarding the main character of your book and Star Trek's very own Captain Kirk.
Finally came the oddest duo you had ever met. The two were like day and night, a cat and a dog, fire and ice; the whole nine yards. A bright smile with baby brown eyes on one, and an ice-cold deadpan look with amber eyes to match on the other. At first you thought the brown-haired one was your fan and the man with the blue hat was just along for the ride.
"Haha! No way! I'm not into that..." He paused as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, "...kinda stuff."
"That kind of stuff?" You repeat back at him, raising a brow.
"He means reading. He doesn't know how." The other spoke putting a hand on top of his head. With a little push he forced the brown-haired man's head down.
You giggled at that. The protests coming from the poor man was comical. You almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle to move the taller man's hand off.
"Then I take it I'm signing this book out to you?" With a click of your pen, you look up at him.
The NASA jacket on the bright blue sleeves of his jacket should have given it away honestly. There's was a small tinge of a blush on his tan cheeks, almost hidden under the skin tone but you were able to make it out under the light. He looked away for a moment before nodding at you.
"Yeah."
"Name?"
"His name is Craig! He's a huge fan of yours by the way! So, if you could write something sweet for him that'd be awesome!" His friend chirped at you as he broke free from Craig's grip.
Craig's face twisted, those piercing eyes of his narrowed down. Before he could reach and grab him, the brown-haired man slid behind your chair. Putting his hand on your chair, he bent down to your level and tapped the blank white page.
"As you can see my big guy has a baaaaaad case of resting bitch face."
"Clyde..." the warning that slipped out of Craig's mouth made a shiver roll down your spine. It was even directed at you, and you felt threatened.
"So, you gotta imagine my surprise when he came home smiling! I was shocked! He didn't even smile when we started going out!" Clyde ignored him, an attest to his bravery. Or foolishness. Either way he continued, leaning down next to your ear. "Your book made him so happy, so it makes me happy. Think you could do that for me? Because he'll never ask you to do it for him."
You look up at him for a while, not even bothered that he had gotten closer to your face as he spoke. The browns in his eyes flickered with mischief but there were layers of love behind them. Chocolate that seemed to melt into tiny hearts when he spoke about Craig. It was honestly sweet, even if he was trying to tease his partner.
"How can I say no to that? I'd love to." You smiled at him and began writing on the empty page.
Yeah, who would have thought that fate would tie you to those two like that. Falling in love with Craig and Clyde was nothing like what they wrote in books or movies. It was a tornado of events that landed you in the eye of it all.
Despite their polar opposite personalities and looks, the two worked off each other well. Then when you got thrown in the middle, you filled in a little spot they desperately needed.
Clyde was social enough for the three of you. He was the one who reminded you and Craig that you needed to get out of the house. When you lock yourself away in your office, he would drag you out with a fun date idea. Movie nights, football games, arcade dates, and his favorite late-night walks. Doing the same to Craig who always seemed buried in work.
Craig gave off such scary dog privilege that you and Clyde never felt threatened. You could take those late-night walks with Clyde because you knew nothing would touch you with Craig following close behind.
That was nice sure, but under that scary looking shell was a soft teddy bear of a man. While he wasn't vocal with affection like Clyde, he was observant. Craig remembered everything, everything about you and Clyde's interests. If he saw something you mentioned in passing it was yours. Clyde needed new shoelaces because the ones on his favorite pair of red shoes were tearing? There was a new pack waiting for him on the table. You complained about the shift key on your keyboard sticking too much? An adorable keyboard that looked like a typewriter was found on your desk the next morning.
Then there was you. You have no idea how these two survived this long without you. Truth be told they don't either. Craig and Clyde couldn't cook to save their lives. Their diet consisted of diner food and Chinese takeout. While their house was clean enough, laundry was never put away or folded. Clyde was horrible at putting his dirty laundry in the bin and Craig was too tired most nights to even make it to bed. The final straw was when you took a shower, and their only soap was 3 in 1.
Absolutely not.
So, when you moved in things changed. When Craig was at work, you would take Clyde grocery shopping. Slowly you started him on simple dishes, working with him until he was comfortable in the kitchen. What was surprising was that he took to it quickly. He was a natural and before you knew it, he was cooking things you had never heard of. He had gone as far as looking up Peruvian dishes, practicing with spices and techniques that had your mouth watering. When you asked how he learned to do all of this, he gave you the biggest grin and told you it was YouTube.
When Craig came home that night to Chupe de Camarones it was the closest to crying you've ever seen from him.
Clyde really stepped up after that, feeling a sense of pride in taking care of you two. Seeing as you worked just as hard as Craig did. Clyde proclaimed something about being more than happy to be a malewife.
In return Craig started taking better care of himself, actually starting to care about his health. He stopped staying up so late and made use of the giant bed. Clean sheets and blankets that felt good on his skin. Even better that you and Clyde would be in it waiting for him. Clyde long passed out on your chest, a bit of drool sliding down the side of his face and onto your shirt. Not that you seemed to care as you just continued to read next to the little bedside lamp. Only pausing when you felt Craig's presence in the doorway.
Craig's smiles were rare, little treats from the universe to you. Ones like these where he smiles with love in his eyes. Where he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. Arms wrapping around Clyde and with a hand settling on your hips. A silent squeeze lets you know it's time to put the book down and join him.
How can you say no to a smile like that?
Of course, not every day was perfect. Your relationship took time to hash out. It was different being with two individuals at the same time, but you made it work. The three of you were committed to one another.
Now if only you could commit to this fucking scene.
Your head’s little meet and greet with the table must have been louder than you thought because whatever Clyde was yelling about in the living room stopped. It was one of the rare weekends where Craig was home and off work. Choosing to spend it watching some show with Clyde, listening to the man ramble on about something.
So wrapped up in your thoughts, you let out a scream when you finally lift your head and Clyde is right there beside you. His body bent over just like the day you met him. With his hand on the back of your chair and his face next to yours. Except instead of using, you as a shield from Craig, he's reading your computer screen.
While he doesn't understand what it takes to be an author, he sees the effect it has on you. Days like this where you take on the posture of a shrimp, forgetting to come out to eat.
His lips start pursed, but as he continues to scan over the screen they break out into a smirk. He covers his mouth in a fake surprise, a gasp with widened eyes.
"Babe! This is...scandalous! Spicy, naughty even! What are you doing writing something like this?" His dramatic act continues, forming some feign surprise.
"What are you doing using words with more than one syllable?" You shoot back with a little smirk.
It takes everything in your power not to laugh at the actual pout on his face. Try as you might, the giggles escape your lips, and it makes him smirk. He leans down and nuzzles his nose into your cheek.
"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me babe! I'm getting smarterer with you around!" You know he said that word wrong on purpose, just to get under your skin.
But he kisses you quiet before you can say anything. Holds your face in his hands so you can't pull away. You can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and the growing smile along with it.
"So, what's got you bashing your head into your desk baby? Craig and I heard a thump and got worried." He moves the kisses towards your forehead.
"Was it that loud?"
"Heard it over the tv." Craig's voice almost makes you leap out of your skin.
You bite your lip, looking down at the keyboard with a distant stare. The faded green and blue, spots where your fingers had smudged away the paint from typing so much.
"I'm just having trouble with this scene. I've been stuck on it for weeks now." You exhale softly.
Craig raises a brow and leans down on the other side of you. Both Clyde and Craig bent over to take a look at your screen. You're not sure why the fact both men reading your unfinished work makes you feel nervous, but it does. Or maybe it's the fact this is your first time writing a spicy scene like this.
"It's good. Never would have thought you'd go the Priest kink route." Craig says it so matter of fact, there's never hesitation in his voice. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him flustered, and even then, his tone is flat.
"I-I’m not into it! I just- you guys are only reading a snippet of my book! There's been a romance blossoming between the two the whole time!" You try to defend yourself, but it only makes Clyde's lips tug into a smirk.
The temptation to tease you was too great, it was being handed to him on a silver platter. Clyde leans up and walks next to Craig, leaning into his chest. The man wraps his arms around himself and lets out a dramatic sigh.
"A forbidden love! A tale as old as time! But what I wanna know babe-" Clyde stops and lets the tension build. It makes you glare at him as you turn in your office chair. "-is why the witch's descriptions are reaaaally close to mine."
"That's a woman Clyde! She's got short brown hair because it was cut off when she was running from the townsfolk! Brown eyes are common and beautiful! There's not enough representation for them!"
"Aaaaaand her dimples?" He points to his, the little spots in his cheeks that sink in when he smiles. "Plus, my eyes are totally beautiful."
"It's not you!"
"Oh, and the Father isn't Craig. Tan skin, black hair? You gave the Father green eyes but other than that, it fits Craig to a T." Craig actually nods along with what Clyde is saying. He's got his eyes closed as if this is some kind of philosophical debate.
"Are you serious right now Clyde?! This is why you two aren't allowed in my study!" Your face was burning now, hot and flushed from his teasing.
"What did I do?" Craig breaks the little fight with a simple question.
"Nodding your head along! You know what he's doing and you're encouraging it!"
"So, you took inspiration from your partners in your romance story. It's cute." He responds with a shrug. He looks down at Clyde who's still smugly leaning against his chest.
Your mouth falls open, you go to respond but nothing makes its way out. Your brows furrow. Arms crossed under your chest in a pout.
Had you unintentionally based your characters off your partners? Is that why the romance novel was easy to write up until this point?
Whatever the case may be here, you didn't like being called out. So, you do what you always do when they get like this, you turn in your chair and ignore them.
Usually this works, let's them know that you're not in the mood for their games. That you'd rather be left alone than entertain another minute of their shenanigans. But this time Clyde wasn't going to let you go. He grabs the back of your seat and wheels you back towards him and Craig.
"Baaaaabe don't pout. Look I'm sorry~." No, he's not. "But hey I've got an idea."
You let out a little huff, enough to where he knows you're not actually mad at him. If you were you would have picked your chair up and walked it back to your desk. Instead, you sit there and wait for him to continue.
"You're stuck on that scene, but I think you need a break. Sitting here and bashing your head against the table isn't going to fix that. Soooo..." He trails off, moving to stand in front of you.
His fingers glide across the side of your face, cupping your cheek so gently. Clyde guides your face up to look at him, behind that cocky smile of his he's got such love for you in his eyes. The way his thumb brushes across your cheek, making your heart flutter so slightly.
"What do you say Craig and I help you out a little babe?" Clyde guides your face up towards him. He presses his thumb against your lips just as his voice dips into that playful whisper.
You raise a brow at him in response. It's not until Craig puts his hand on your shoulders, that you piece together this wasn't just his idea. Thumbs pressed into your muscles working out the knots and tension. For such a hard worker, somehow Craig's hands always stay so soft. The worn-out oversized t-shirt you stole does little against his hands. The material is thin from how often it's been washed and worn.
His hands pull a soft moan from you, it feels too good to keep yourself silent. Clyde pushes his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, the digit presses down on your soft pink tongue. He all but purrs when watches you wrap your lips around it.
"See...let's work out some of that tension. We'll make you feel real good and give you a little inspiration." Clyde hums as he pulls his thumb out, smearing the saliva across your lips.
When he doesn't continue, you realize he's waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to agree to their little plan. But that doesn't stop Craig from bending down and placing a kiss on your cheek. He trails the kisses down to your jawline, using his nose to nudge your head to the side. Lulling your head to the side, you gave into the feeling. Craig's lips move to capture the exposed skin. You can feel just how eager he is from the way the kisses turn to nips then to full on bites. His teeth sinking into the soft parts of your flesh pulling another sharp gasp from you.
"Come on honey. Let us take care of you." After he's done leaving small love bites on your neck, Craig moves to your ear nipping the shell.
"Y-yeah that sounds...that sounds good." You move your hands up towards Craig, running your fingers through his hair. One of the rare moments he's not sporting his blue hat. "I could use a little break..."
"That's our girl." Clyde's praise goes straight to your core. He lifts you up from your office chair, hands cupping the back of your thighs for support. They give your thighs a little squeeze, digging his fingertips into your flesh.
Craig moves out of his way and goes to push your office chair back towards your desk. Clyde chuckles softly seeing the confused look on your face. Instead of protesting you wrap your arms around the brunette lazily throwing your arms around his neck.
"We're supposed to be relaxing, we're gonna get nice and comfy on the couch." He drops you down on the couch, making you bounce a bit. He laughs when you let out a gasp of surprise.
"You ass." Your grumbles fall on deaf ears. Clyde just runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a harsh tug. It makes you cry out, craning your neck up towards him.
"Sweetheart, that's not very nice. You're being a brat right now." He tuts, feigning disappointment.
"You dropped me on the-" You suck in another cry when he tugs your head to the side, that firm grip on your roots sending a shiver down your spine.
"Hm? You were saying something? I did what?"
Clyde's smug little smirk made your blood boil. But his fingers in your hair felt too good to protest further. Especially when he switched between tugging and massaging his fingertips into your scalp. You watched his eyes flicker from yours to behind you. Before you could turn around to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, Craig's hands slid down your back.
Gently, much more than Clyde, he pushes you down towards Clyde. His other hand comes down to grab your ankle, pulling your leg back towards him. Once your knee is tucked against the couch, he does the same to the other leg.
If your face wasn't burning up before it certainly is now. Just as you go to hold yourself up with your hands, Clyde removes his hand from your hair and takes you by the wrist. Guiding you up towards him, he places them on the hems of his sweatpants. The grey university sweatpants do little to hide his hardening cock, you watch it twitch against the fabric.
"This is about where you left off right? She was about to take the Father's cock out of his pants?" Clyde says watching as you slowly pull his sweatpants down. He lets out a low chuckle that turns into a moan when you slip your fingers around his cock. "That's it, now keep your eyes on me baby."
There's a moment of hesitation as you bring the tip closer to your mouth. The bright red tip glides across your plump lips begging for you to open. His hand returns to your hair, smoothing down your locks from his earlier manhandling.
The gentle touch makes you look up towards him, just like he requested. There really was something so intimate about those chocolate brown eyes of his. Past that smirk and layers of darkened lust, there was devotion. The feeling of your hands on him alone made him weak in the knees. You put that to the test, pressing just a little kiss on the tip. Dabbing your tongue against his leaking member. Just from that alone he's letting out the prettiest moans.
"Sh-shit, c’mon don't tease me." That cocky attitude of his melts. You almost laugh at how easy it is to break him down. He was puddy in your hands.
With a little hum you move your hand up and down his shaft, creating enough friction to make him buck his hips towards you. He nudges his cock further into your mouth, pushing past your lips. The underside of his cock glides down against your tongue, smearing the pre-cum along with it.
So caught up in your little game, you almost forgot about Craig behind you. Almost. It's hard to forget him when he's got his hands all over you. Large palms cupping any exposed skin. Craig takes his time exploring every curve he can get ahold of. His nose nuzzled into the back of your head. His breath tickling the shell of your ear. Just the sight of your mouth around Clyde's member alone is enough to make him growl.
Neither men are patient when it comes to you. Craig shoves whatever is left of your pajamas down and off you, he doesn't bother with your shirt as it'll pull you away from your lover. Instead, he decides it'll make the perfect handle. He bunches it up until it collects at the collar. His hands grip the shirt and tug it backwards, making your hips rock back into him.
Somewhere along the way he stripped away his pants. The barrier between the both of you was the thin material of your underwear and his dark blue boxers. While Craig wasn't as vocal as Clyde was, with his teasing and little whimpers, he could be just as unfair if not more.
Grinding against your cunt slowly, grabbing and groping at your ass the entire time. He digs his nails into your skin, leaving little crescent moons. Craig rewards good behavior not with sweet words, but by giving you what you so desperately want.
He waits until you've got all of Clyde's cock in your mouth before he finally shoves your underwear down. It makes it to your knees before he just decides to leave them there. Too many times he got impatient and just ripped them off, and too many times you scolded him for it.
The hand in your hair pulls you back from his cock. Clyde moves your head back just enough to where only the tip remains, then slowly he brings you back down. Pushing you all the way down his length until your nose hits his stomach. You watch as his muscles flex under his skin like he's trying to resist letting his head lull back. He needs so badly to keep his eyes on yours, loving the attention you're giving him.
"Your mouth feels so good." He whines when he reaches the back of your throat. You gag around him, and it pulls another whimper from him.
Your hand slides down his thighs, using it to hold you up. The other hand is still being held by Clyde's grip. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it up near his shoulder. Craig waits until Clyde rocks you back again, using the momentum to slip inside your wet folds. A pleased hum rumbles from his chest. You can feel it from how he's pressing his entire body against yours.
Just as slowly as Clyde moves your head, Craig pushes further into your cunt. The two find a slow and steady rhythm with one another. When Craig snaps his hips against you, it pushes Clyde's cock further down your throat. Your moans vibrating around him causing him to moan loudly in return. Clyde's whimpers and whines get louder when you dig your nails into his thighs. In return the grip on your hair is tightened. Creating this delicious cycle of pleasure.
"Baby, please. I wanna fuck your throat. You gonna let me? I need it so bad, please." Clyde's begging spurs something in you. Gives you the feeling of control even if you’re physically stuck between the two. From the beads of sweat that trail down his body and the way his body is shaking, you know he's at his limit.
You're able to pull back just enough, his cock springs up with a little bounce. Craig slows down just enough to let you talk, but you can tell he's not happy about it. The way his grip on your shirt tightens, you're sure he'll rip it soon.
"If I snap my fingers, you stop, okay?" You say giving him the okay. He caresses your face and presses a kiss onto your face, letting you know he understands the boundaries you've set.
At first, he's careful when he pushes his cock back into your mouth. You reward him with a swirl of your tongue, rubbing against the veins that are popping out.
"He's so needy." Craig huffs as he leans back up. The assault on your neck stops, but he's left it covered in bright red and purple marks. No amount of makeup will cover up what he's done.
You don't need to see him to know that he's smirking at it. Taking pride in the fact that he's marked you up. Or the pride making Clyde blush from his comment.  Craig's hips snap back into you, the force much sharper than his previous lazy thrusts. They're calculated, each time he pushes deep inside you he hits that spot that has you seeing stars. Clyde's hips take up the same pace, shoving his cock into the back of your throat.
Tears begin to well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. Moans turn to muffled cries, yet everything feels too good to stop. They're rough paced fucking brings your mind to a haze. All you can focus on is feeling good and making them feel good.
Craig's close, you can tell from the way he starts to lose rhythm. He's having a harder time controlling those grunts and growls. A hard time not leaving bruises on your skin from how rough he's holding onto you. He's long since let your shirt go, instead grabbing onto the back of the couch. But he waits until he feels that familiar clench around his cock. The way your walls clamp down around him as you cum. The only warning being the high-pitched muffled moan that gets swallowed by Clyde.
His hips slam into you one more time before he pulls out. Grabbing the base of his cock, he shoots that hot thick load onto your back. Heavy amounts of cum drip down your spine making you whine and shiver. Clyde can't take his eyes off the way his partner paints your backside. It makes a trail of drool slip down his chin.
The poor man can't do it anymore, he can't stop his eyes from rolling up to the back of his head. Not when your moans vibrate up him and your throat tightens from choking on him. He needs this release.
"I'm gonna cum baby. Please, let me cum. Let me cum in your mouth." Clyde all but cries in between panting. His begging dissolves into your name and the word please over and over again.
His flickering eyes catch yours again. It's when you give him a little wink and a hum, his cock violently twitches and cum spills from his tip. His cum is sweeter than normal, it makes it easier to swallow.
Slowly he pulls out of your mouth with one final whimper. It isn't until Craig swipes his thumb over his cheek that you realize he had tears streaming down them. Clyde presses his cheek into Craig's hand and lets out a pleased sigh. Once he knows Clyde is okay, Craig stands up and goes to get a towel to help clean your back. He does the same to your face, swiping away the left-over tears.
"Feeling better?" Clyde asks as he helps pull your underwear up. "Nice and relaxed?"
You nod and rest your head against his chest. "You've got good ideas sometimes."
"I've got wrinkles on my brain." He smirks to himself, taking your little praise miles.
Craig comes back after tossing the towel in the dirty laundry with a large blanket. He throws it over both of you before climbing in next to you. He lays his head down on Clyde's and grabs the tv remote.
"Kitchen Nightmare or Hell’s Kitchen?"
"Kitchen Nightmares! I need some petty British accents after my orgasm denial!"
You scrunch up your nose at Clyde’s comment. Almost wanting to pull back. "Smooth brain behavior."
"Smooth brain behavior." Craig chimes in.
The three of you relax into the couch, almost ready for the group nap that comes with the afterglow of love making. That is until inspiration strikes you again. Your eyes light up and you go to wiggle out of their hold. But Craig's arms are faster, they keep you firm against his chest. Clyde's hands come down a moment later, cupping your hips.
"Nope. You're staying right here."
"Guys! No! I just figured out how I'm gonna get that chapter finished! You gotta let me go! I gotta do it!" Your pleads are wasted, like they're not even heard.
"No. You're warm and I'm tired."
"That's not my fault or my problem."
"I'm making it your problem. Sit still."
"You know Tucker bear isn't going to let go. You're fighting a losing battle babe." Craig at least has the decency to let Clyde finish before pinching him. You know Clyde's nickname for him makes him grumpy. His little yelp makes you giggle.
"Fine....at least until you fall asleep."
"Look if you think you can get out of his hold, then be my guest. You earned it at that point." Clyde's smirk returns. He throws his leg over yours and tucks it in between Craig's knees.
"Fuck you." Your eyes narrow up at him. He's not as slick as he thinks he is, trying to cage you in with a sleepy Craig.
"Again? So soon. You're insatiable babe. Let us recover first." Clyde presses a kiss into the top of your head, pulling back before you can headbutt him.
His hand guides your head back down onto his chest and he just chuckles. It doesn't take long before Craig is passed out with his head nuzzled into the curve of your waist. Holding you like a teddy bear against his chest. Clyde's smile grows when he sees you trying to fight off sleep. But it eventually takes you and you lose the battle. He turns the tv down just a bit, deciding to join the both of you.
That chapter can wait another day.
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Hand in Hand (part three)
@whumptober No. 8 "It's all for nothing."
cw: violence/beating
previous ///// au masterlist ///// next
~ ~ ~
Dan is awake long before the cell door swings open. The only way he could sleep with even a little comfort was sitting up, back pressed into the wall, and now he's stiff all over. He can't imagine how Wes feels. His arms must be dead from the partial suspension, shoulders aching, legs well-past being asleep. If he begs Swift, will she at least loosen the chains enough for him to lie down? He's willing to try.
But it isn't Swift who steps inside. It's a pair of Riot Kings. Both are wearing masks. Pointlessly; he knows who they are, but maybe it's in an effort to make themselves feel better about this. They must feel at least some kind of shame, right?
"Peres. Sawyer," he says. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" One of them, Sawyer, freezes in place as he's named, but Peres is undeterred.
"Swift wanted another demonstration with him," he says, jabbing a thumb in Wes's direction. "But I figured we'd offer you a deal."
A deal? Dan doubts it's anything good, but if they feel guilty enough to try and hide behind masks, maybe they still have the decency to not want to hurt Wes. "What sort of deal?" he says.
Peres lays a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna unchain you, and I'm gonna beat the shit outta you."
Dan makes an effort to hold still, not letting his apprehension cross his face. "Doesn't sound like the kind of deal I usually make."
He's expecting the backhanded blow Peres deals him, but it still stings. Behind him, there's the clank of metal-on-metal as Wes throws himself against his chains.
"Fucking traitor! Leave him alone!"
Peres rolls his eyes and gestures to Sawyer, who's quick to gag Wes. Dan regretfully agrees with the decision. It's probably for the best if Wes is unable to piss these guys off.
"You didn't let me finish," Peres says. "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. If you can take it, if you don't try to run or fight back, we'll leave him alone this time. Got it?"
Dan closes his eyes with a grimace. This will be fun. "Got it," he says flatly.
He sits perfectly still as Peres unlocks the cuffs, hands in his lap, flattened to keep him from clutching at the fabric of his pants. Even now, he needs to look stronger than he is. That's how it's always been, and he refuses to let his own mask slip now.
Dan knows he'd stand a chance against the pair, even aching and exhausted, even outnumbered. He can wait until the chains are gone, strike when neither are expecting it, and win. He could free himself and Wes.
But why unchain him at all when they could get the same result without the risk? If they want to hurt him, why not tie his hands behind his back so there's nothing he can do? Maybe they want him to try and escape, maybe they're expecting it. Maybe that's how they plan on justifying hurting Wes more, and insisting he's to blame for it.
Dan isn't about to risk it. As long as he's in this cell, surrounded by his former allies, he's powerless to stop them from hurting him, from hurting Wes. All he can do is take what he's offered and---
A fist collides with his stomach and he doubles over with a grunt. He doesn't even have time to catch his breath before it's followed by two more. Cheek, chin. Powerful enough to daze him.
"Stand up."
Dan does, getting his hands under him then carefully pushing to his feet. He doesn't stay up for long before Peres hits him in the stomach again.
Can he even block it? Move his body in such a way that he takes the least amount of damage? Or will they count it as fighting back?
"Hold him up." This is directed at Sawyer, who quickly moves behind Dan, grabbing his arms and keeping him steady.
It's all he can do to keep breathing as Peres whales on his torso, punch after punch, sharp and rapid, until Peres is panting and Dan is retching.
The other man grabs him by the shoulders and jams his knee into Dan's sternum, then lets him go. Dan doesn't even try to break his fall, just tries to keep his chin tucked as the men above him kick at his back and ribs and legs.
Beyond the blood rushing in his ears, beyond the pain the crashes down on him like a wave, threatening to completely overwhelm him, he can hear Wes's frantic shouts, muffled by the gag.
Peres---or maybe Sawyer, he can't tell anymore---gives one final kick to his stomach, and Dan cries out.
"Stand up."
He tries, but it hurts to breathe, and he can't figure out how to get his legs beneath him.
"Stand. Up."
Wes screams through the gag again, and Dan knows he has no choice. It's tedious work. A palm first, an elbow over it. A knee on the ground, and then he's slowly pushing himself up, swaying on his feet.
Peres punches him square in the jaw, and he's on his back, staring at the ceiling in a daze. One of the men above him grabs him by the hair and drags him back to the wall, locking the manacles back in place. It takes a tremendous effort to sit up, to ease the strain on his shoulders, and once he does, he can't keep his head up.
"I'm surprised you actually held out," Peres mutters, then nods to Sawyer. "Grab the cattle prod."
Dan shudders. Aren't they done? But through half-closed eyes, he sees Sawyer closing in not on him, but on Wes.
He sits up, wincing. "Y-you said--"
"I didn't think you'd make it," Peres says. "And I'm not about to go against orders from Swift."
~ ~ ~
@kira-the-whump-enthusiast
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actual-changeling · 10 months
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of course the first time in a while that i wanna put something on ao3 it's down. fuck me. i will put it up and make a post once it is back, so for now you're getting it here. a small gift for @skoulsons, love you L.
-
The sunlight that has been slowly fading over the last hour is finally becoming too low to allow her to keep drawing, and just as she is sitting back down after turning on the light, a low noise makes her turn around.
It's a cautious habit from FEDRA times to always keep the volume of her music low enough to still hear her surroundings, which isn't very hard considering that her headphones have seen better days. While there's technically no need for that in Jackson, it does mean she hears Joel when he calls for her or, like now, raps his knuckles against her doorframe to get her attention.
He is wearing a Bear River State Park shirt they picked up on a camping trip a few months ago, and she has a matching one somewhere in the back of her closet, though usually she simply steals his. After dinner, he had settled in the living room with a book while she had been called back upstairs by her sketchbook, and even an hour or two has been long enough that seeing him unfurls a ball of tension in her chest she hadn't been aware of.
Ellie presses pause on her walkman and slides her headphones down around her neck, taking in the slight shuffle of Joel's feet and the badly hidden anxiety on his face.
"Hey, you."
"Hey, you," he gives back, mirroring her smile, and leans against the frame.
"Need something?"
Joel shakes his head, and she knows him well enough to catch the split-second of hesitation before he does so, resisting the urge to raise her eyebrows and question him about it. It's still odd, really, how much she misses him sometimes in the comfort of their own home with only a couple of feet of space between them. Maybe it is a habit from the road they will never be able to shake, maybe it is simply within their nature to cling as much to each other as possible, no matter what Maria or anyone else has to say about it.
"Nah, just checking in, didn't mean to interrupt."
He loosely waves toward her desk, and she reflexively glances at her half-finished drawing, a roughly sketched memory of Joel playing his guitar on the porch last night. Something warm blooms deep in her stomach, the blissful content they had existed in seeping back into her bones, and although it is far from finished, the final image is already taking shape. When Ellie looks back up, Joel seems about ready to leave, his right hand opening and closing around nothing, and while he isn't asking, not outright, they have never needed words to read each other.
She takes off her headphones, switches off her small desk lamp, and stands up before he can protest, crossing through her room in a matter of seconds. A breath of air gets pressed out of his lungs when she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his chest, twin sighs of relief following right after, and although it isn't a particularly cold night, his embrace still expels a bone-deep chill from her body. There is a special Joel-shaped kind of safety only he can provide, a soft blanket that settles around her shoulders and makes the worst of her nightmares vanish, that takes her fear and puts trust in its place.
His cheek comes to rest on top of her head, and she realizes just how much he needed the contact when he threads his fingers through her hair and gently holds her in place. Never forcing, never restricting, just asking in a silent way they both understand, and so far Ellie has never found a single cell within her body offering resistance to a hug from him. Other people, sure, but never Joel.
Neither of them likes to pull back first, and it is only when a yawn escapes her that Joel loosens his hold on her.
"Tired?"
"Mhh, your fault."
Whatever bothered him enough to actively seek her out has melted into a soft puddle of sleep, soaking them both, and it is almost inconvenient how tired they tend to get around each other. Joel leaves a kiss on her forehead, still smiling, even more so than before, and she blindly reaches behind her to turn off the ceiling light, too.
"Movie?"
"You'll fall asleep ten minutes in," he teases, brushing his thumbs along her cheekbones, but she only rolls her eyes in response.
"Yeah, yeah, look who's talking, old man."
They walk down the stairs way too close to each other, and one day they will trip and fall, but today they make it to the living room in one piece. As soon as Joel settles on the couch in his usual spot, she curls up against his chest, using his arm as a pillow, and closes her eyes when the screen lights up and a familiar intro plays.
"You've got mail, really?"
"I'm not watching Jurassic Park again."
"But THAT?"
"Just go to sleep, kiddo."
He wraps his free arm around her waist, already prepared to keep her from sliding off the couch once she passes out, and the combined force of what has somehow become their comfort movie and his slow breaths ghosting along her face pull her under in no time.
The last thing she hears is a quiet thank you, baby whispered into her hair.
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novlr · 17 hours
Note
Where do you get your writing inspiration from?
Writing inspiration is a deeply personal thing, and everyone will find their inspiration differently. For some, it could be from their personal experiences, from their favourite TV show, or a book they just read, while for others, they might rely solely on their imaginations without looking to outside influences.
That said, there are lots of places you can go to for inspiration that aren't just about the act of writing. Sometimes, it's just about finding something that will spark an idea, or even just get you in a creative headspace. And for that, we've got some tips in the Reading Room today to show you how to use real life to find creative inspiration.
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snowangeldotmp3 · 1 year
Text
Robin can't find her jacket.
She felt naked without it. It was her armor. And one of the few pieces of clothing that didn’t yell “English Professor!” at the world. But most importantly, it was hers.
And she can’t find it.
She’s looked everywhere for it. Closet. Drawers. Eddie’s place. Steve’s place. Max’s room. Joyce’s diner. The Outback. It’s like it’s vanished in thin air.
The room is a mess, like a tornado came through and left all of her clothes in its wake. Robin knows she probably looks like a maniac searching for the thing, she can’t help it.
It’s at that exact moment when Nancy walks by, head craning to watch Robin’s manic state. “Robin? Is…everything okay?” Nancy asks, leaning against the doorframe.
Robin sits on her knees, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, it’s just,” she pauses, the ridiculousness of it all now crashing down on her, “I can’t find my jacket,” she deflates.
Nancy’s face doesn’t change. She simply asks, “The blue one?”
Robin nods.
“Oh,” Nancy says, pushing off from the frame, “I have it.”
Relief washes like a wave over Robin. “You do?” She asks, before her brows knit together, “why?”
“Mhm, come with me.”
Robin gets up, letting Nancy lead her to what Robin can only assume is Nancy’s bedroom.
This is the first time she’s seeing it. She’s been living with Nancy and Max for the last month now, and it’s the first time she’s seeing Nancy’s room. Nancy’s seen her room dozens of times, (mostly because Robin’s door is always open) but Nancy’s more reserved than Robin is. This feels…more intimate somehow. A room is often a reflection of one’s mind, of their personality, so for Nancy to be showing her this…it feels like they might finally be friends.
(At least, Nancy might finally consider them friends. Robin has considered them friends since they got stuck in the Enchanted Forest, because who rips out a heart like that for someone you were supposed to hate? They shared stories around a campfire like they were fucking Girl Scouts desperate for a new merit badge. Nancy saved Robin in the Enchanted Forest. She considers that to be pretty high on the friendship ladder.)
Nancy walks through the door, Robin close behind, and straight to her closet. Robin takes a moment to observe the room. It’s so quintessentially Nancy that Robin has to flex her fingers, fighting the itch to reach out and touch things, committing them to memory and filing them away to the ‘Nancy’ folder in her brain.
Nancy pushes past her clothes, pulling the dry cleaning bag from her closet. Robin can see the familiar blue before Nancy’s got the bag fully out of the closet. Robin stares at her, dumbfounded. Nancy smiles sheepishly at her.
“After that last battle I noticed it got pretty banged up, so I had Max snatch it when you weren’t looking so I could get it cleaned properly. I know it means a lot to you and I didn’t mean to cause a panic like that it was just the least I could do…” She trails off, handing the jacket back to Robin.
Robin can’t wrap her head around it. One, Max is a traitor who snatches her jackets when she’s not looking. Two, does Nancy…care about her? Consider her a friend? This is a woman who, not even six months ago, was actively trying to make Robin’s life a living hell.
Robin pulls her in a tight hug, eliciting a small, “oof!” from the brunette. Nancy relaxes into the hug, and Robin tries not to think about how perfectly hug-sized Nancy is. “Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing one last time before letting go.
When Robin lets go, she ignores the way Nancy’s face glows a brighter shade of red, and stammers, “Oh—it’s…it’s nothing, you know. I just—“
It’s adorable.
Warmth blooms through her chest, waves of it washing over her. She smiles.
Nancy was a queen. An evil queen. And now she’s caring for Robin’s things and fumbling over her words and blushing and Robin wants nothing more than to just—
No. No, not here, not now. She will not ruin this, whatever it is they have going, because of her stupid feelings.
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kerryweaverlesbian · 8 months
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After being unbodied by a spell, Dean can't eat, sleep, drive, or feel much of anything at all unless he's given a ride in someone else's body. Until they can get the spell to put Dean back into his own body, he's in danger of fading out of reality entirely.
The scary part is, he's starting to like the idea.
I sing the body electric.
(Dean co-habits Castiel's body for a while and they are both Intense about it).
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mediawhorefics · 1 year
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Trapped In Amber
author: mediawhore
pairing: eduardo saverin/mark zuckerberg
word count: 125k
summary:
Ten years ago, Mark stabbed his best friend in the back and kicked him out of the company they were building together. Being in love with the man had little to do with it, but as far as first heartbreaks go, it was pretty spectacular and could (maybe) explain why he’s been so reluctant to put himself out there again. But ten years is a long time to pine and live in the past, so when his friend Dustin strong-arms him into the world of online dating, Mark figures, sure, why not give it a try to shut up everyone in his life who wants to see an end to his bachelorhood. To his surprise, he does meet someone who rises to his ridiculous standards and the anonymity of the super exclusive app they’re using doesn’t even bother him. Seems perfect. Until Mark realizes that time is a circle and that to truly move forward, he’s going to have to confront his past. A ‘You’ve Got Mail’ au where Mark falls in love with the same person twice without knowing and has to atone for his sins.
AO3 link // playlist
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writingwithhana · 3 months
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✩°。⋆⸜ 🎧✮ notice !!
hello, everyone!
there's been a recent mix up in my tag list that I noticed and fixed, but with the inflow of request of tags ( that I'm really grateful for, thank you so much for supporting! ) I though it would be best to just recheck.
please check if I have tagged you under the right series, and do not hesitate to tell me if I'm wrong, or if you changed your mind :)
HOW TO BREAK A READER: @periwinkle-the-11th @loife1m @mxnkeydo @auttumnsayshi @summersblooms @aylin-hijabi @disneyfloppins @sydaney-foxay @yourtwistedlies @chocobeese @reyna-obsessed
BEATING WRITER’S BLOCK: @chocobeese @reyna-obsessed @disneyfloppins @banilikesfictionalpeople @sydaney-foxay @yourtwistedlies @loife1m @summersblooms @aylin-hijabi @mxnkeydo
PROSE PERFECTION: @banilikesfictionalpeople @sydaney-foxay @chocobeese @reyna-obsessed @loife1m @summersblooms @aylin-hijabi @yourtwistedlies
ALSO--tiny lil sneak peak in thanks for checking :)
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...it's coming...this tuesday.
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