#i honestly have hit a creative wall with my writing lately

[catkyunie]

pure seonghwa smut? pure seonghwa smut. sorry mingi month i haven't forgotten you I promise

#paige talks #i honestly have hit a creative wall with my writing lately #and seonghwa smut is screaming at the forefront of my mind so #i must answer the siren's call

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello!!! Your writing is so beautiful and moving!! As an author, do you ever feel like the stuff you write is not good enough? Or your ideas have already been done 1,000 times? I can’t imagine you do, because your stories are pure gold. But if so, how do you move past it and keep writing?? Do you have trouble coming up with original content? I find when I’m writing fics that I sort of stop myself mid story with doubt. Hopefully I worded that correctly. I just admire your fics so much! Thank you!!!

Hey there 🩷✨️😘 And thank you so much for your kind words, I was honestly so, so moved by your message! I'll try my best to offer some advice and thoughts on this, hopefully some of it is helpful 💕

First of all, I sure struggle with this! I have days when I feel like deleting everything I've ever written because I think it's garbage. Those thoughts usually occur when I'm comparing myself to other writers and their work (which generally differs a lot in style, tone and voice, so it's kind of redundant to compare in the first place). Also, I'm not a native English speaker, so there will always be a gap I can't cross. I will always be one, two, three steps behind in expressing myself. Still, I haven't allowed it to stop me from writing and sharing my work. (Well I have, up until this year... But better late than never, right?)

That being said, we need each other for joy and inspiration, which also means that nothing we create is 100% original in the end… and at the same time, everything is original! You write in your own voice, and only you can have a new perspective or offer a unique take on an existing idea. But tropes are tropes for a reason; they're popular for a reason, so I wouldn't shy away from using cliche pairings or recurring tropes as key concepts. Besides, they're so much fun to write!

It's only natural to compare yourself and your fics to other writers and their work, but there's a thin line between getting inspired and feeling like you're not good enough as a writer. It's so easy to feel unworthy when you see loads of new, amazing content (= other people's souls and lifeblood, condensed into a brief flicker on top of our dashboards) every day. But when you start to think about it, there's actually no point in comparing yourself and your creative input to the stream of literally thousands of works.

Even if the idea is not the most original, I keep writing until something "original" pushes through. Sometimes it's a piece of dialogue, and that's when I get interested as an author. Why did the character say that? What do they mean? Why did I write this? What's lying underneath?

I don't know if you catch my drift here or if this sounds like nonsense, but when you get curious about your writing, it starts to gain new levels, you gain new ideas, and even the most "unoriginal" idea may get a fresh new twist. And if it doesn't… who cares 💃 If you write with passion, it shows, and I think that's what matters in the end! Plot holes, or lack of plot altogether, don't matter if you and your readers can indulge in your writing.

If and when I hit a wall, I have to check who I'm writing for. I may have a hidden feeling that I'm not good enough as a creator, or that readers expect this or that and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of a desert when it comes to creativity. Writing to self-indulge (in the most filthiest way if you have to) will almost always fix this issue. It's a simple gospel truth that writing what you'd like to read, works.

I'm repeating myself here, but writing should be fun; the minute it's not, I usually stop and take a break. Professional writers probably say it can't always be fun, and they may have methods to work past that slump, but because this is fanfiction and we are doing this as a pastime hobby, I'd say better keep a light approach to it and cut yourself some slack. There's no need to push it or force it.

'Good enough' is an admirable (and understandable!) aspiration when you wish to be the best version of yourself and offer your readers something fresh and unique. I say the following with all the love: good enough is also the main idea behind a violent worldview where nothing is ever enough. It's the origin of self-doubt and the feeling that we're somehow always unworthy.

To a system that always wants more, and wants it better and faster, we as imperfect creatures and emotional human beings can never be enough. Didn't mean to get deep into environmental philosophy in a tumblr ask, but this worldview is currently destroying people's sanity (not to talk of destroying the planet and its myriad inhabitants). It's not easy, but I encourage everyone to rebel against 'good enough' as much as possible! ❤️‍🔥

So you don't have to strive for good enough, you only need to strive for what moves you, what makes you laugh or cry or simply makes you feel something. That way you'll know it will move others too 💋💞💃

#answered #writer stuff

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Gunshot (DSAF Fanfic)

(Disclaimer: I’ve not been doing great lately with keeping up with my fics, and I’m sorry this has taken so long because of that. There will hopefully be a mass upload soon. 

Also, I’m not a doctor so I don’t know exactly how this stuff works bare with me. I’m just a weirdo who likes DSAF, creative writing, and the occasional nice spot of gore. I did look at an article on first aid for this particular type of wound to keep it somewhat accurate, but it may be a little off. Feel free to murder me in the comments for my medical malpractice.)

It was a relatively normal day at the Fazbender’s pizzeria, although it didn’t feel that way. All day it had felt like something was off, like something bad was going to happen.

Everyone had felt it, even Matt seemed slightly uncomfortable, his smile less pronounced than usual. Which honestly was an improvement but it was still creepy.

Jack and Dave had spent most of the day hiding in the Saferoom playing Uno.

Of course phoney comes in to yell at them from time to time, but they just ignore him.

The two men were enjoying this day despite the sinister aura, of course they were, they were in the Saferoom which had a very particular lack of Matt.

Eventually the fun had to come to an end however, when Dave did something that he never could have known was anything but harmless; he complained about being hungry.

Jack had brought food today (that had been the deal, he brought food, Dave brought Uno), but they had long since run out. 

Initially Jack ignored Dave’s complaints as they didn’t have to wait much longer until their job was over and they could go home, but he wouldn’t stop. 

Eventually Jack accepted defeat and ordered a pizza (yes they were in a pizzeria, but even with both of them being nigh unkillable zombies they weren’t willing to risk consumption of the toxic waste Freddy’s tried to pass off as pizza.)

“When is it gonna get here! I’m dying!” Dave whines, “You’re looking more appetizing by the minute. If it’s not here soon we’re finally going to find out if you’re an orange or a tangerine.”

“Relax Aubergine, it’ll be here in 5 minutes, company guarantee. Also if you try it I’ll tase you.”

“I’ll eat your taser. I’ve done it before.”

“Pah! Empty threats I’d tase you till you fucking exploded.” Jack says, taking out the taser in question and activating it as a sort of threat. 

Dave was unperturbed, simply snatching the taser, and with a smug face, swallowing it whole, the object making for a strange outline travelling down his giraffe-like neck.

Jack’s face was one of fear, astonishment, slight arousal and annoyance.

“We were talking for about 5 minutes Sportsy, better go get that pizza~” Dave says, with a wide smile across his purple face.

Jack just sits there for a moment, staring blankly, Dave acting as if he didn’t eat a taser. Eventually he silently stands up and basically runs out of the room.

Dave lays back in his place (he had brought a pillow in, stolen from Jack’s house of course, so he wouldn’t have to lay on the filthy floor.)

A few minutes later he hears a gunshot. 

Dave just rolls his eyes, he doesn’t care if someone got shot.

He does however care that 12 minutes later his Sportsy isn’t back.

Suspecting that Jack had been caught by Phoney or abandoned him Dave stands up and for the first time that day, leaves the room.

It doesn’t take long to find Jack.

The orange man is laying in a pool of his own blood with a clear bullet wound visible on his chest staining his uniform a horrible crimson, the wall behind him has an indent in it for where the bullet impacted, seemingly having gone the whole way through. Fortunately the wound is on the right side so it didn’t hit Jack’s heart. Unfortunately it seems to have fully punctured his right lung as Jack now lays on the ground breathing shallow, and his frantic movements slowing.

He’s alive. Barely. And whoever did this got away.

Dave rushes to Jack’s side and grabs his shoulders. “HOLY FUCK OLD SPORT ARE YOU OK?!?”

Jack looks like he wants to say something but can’t. Probably because he’s now drowning in his own blood and that makes talking slightly difficult.

Dave has absolutely not dealt with something like this before. Sure he’s been shot, he recalls dying that way once, although he could be wrong because he was pretty high at the time he thinks it may have happened.

However being shot doesn’t exactly teach one what to do when someone else is shot. Especially when you either died from it and used borderline magic to shake it off, or happened to have a surgeon father figure who unfortunately for this situation never explained how to do any of this. Well Dave wasn’t exactly sure Henry was a surgeon, but he did say he was a doctor and had spoken about doing them before.

Although Dave mostly saw him as one because of a strangely vivid dream he had of waking up on an operation table with his chest open, his heart in Henry’s hand and when he panicked Henry injecting him with something that ended the dream.

Back to the matter at hand, Dave had absolutely no idea how to help Jack at all. Although at the very least he knew he couldn’t help him here and thus decided to pick up a barely conscious Jack and carry him back to the Saferoom.

Dave propped Jack up on the pillow he had brought.

Fortunately sitting up was exactly what Jack needed because now that he was no longer on his back he could let the blood escape his mouth.

The tangerine broke into a violent coughing fit as Dave watched in horror, and then, as if he had done it before, he shakily reached up to his mouth and shoved his fingers to the back of it, activating his gag reflex and prompting him to puke up massive amounts of blood on the floor.

“S-sport…” Dave manages to stutter out, most definitely not having expected Jack to do that.

“I’m pretty much immortal so I should be able to survive this.-“ Jack says between heavy coughing. There’s a strange hissing sound coming from his bullet wound. “Without treatment probably. I’ll… I’ll still probably need you to… help… so I don’t die now.” Jack’s voice is fading as he collapses on his side, breathing heavily.

Dave sits him back up again and Jack immediately repeats the same process as earlier, puking up the blood filling his lungs.

“How can I help ya?” Dave says, uncomfortable with seeing Jack in such a pathetic condition.

“…cover… holes…” Jack manages to choke out, visibly getting weaker.

Dave stands up, scanning around the room for something to cover up the bullet wounds with.

His eyes land on a roll of duck tape. He snatches the tape off the table and presents it to Jack. “Will this do Old Sport?”

“…yeah… just… shirt… off…” Jack seems to be fading faster by the minute. Jack is ALMOST immortal, but not quite. He’s still quite killable but can survive more. If Dave doesn’t act soon he’ll really be gone. Dave isn’t sure what he’d do in a world devoid of Sportsy, they’d been together so long that having him die on him… no it’s best not to think about the worst case scenario. Jack WILL survive. 

Dave strips off Jack’s shirt, noticing the blood around the wound foaming. He wipes it aside with his sleeve then starts to apply the duck tape over the bullet wounds, adding probably far more tape than he needed.

Jack hacks up a little more blood and then lays back, breathing deeply. 

“That was a fucking close one.” Dave comments. 

“I’ll say.” Jack says flatly, still recovering. “Is this my pillow that went missing?”

“…no.”

“Sure it’s not. Stop breaking into my house.

“I don’t want to~” Dave purrs. “The fuck happened anyway how did you get shot?”

“It was the Candy the cat fucker. He broke in again and I didn’t have my taser on me because SOMEONE ate it, so I couldn’t stop him. He shot me, and then bolted. I don’t think he realized the gravity of what he was doing until then.”

“Sorry Sportsy…”

“For what? You just saved my miserable life. Ok maybe I don’t like the fact that I’m alive upon further consideration but I doubt I’d prefer being dead.”

“If I hadn’t eaten your taser none of this would have happened.”

“Yeah well it was honestly pretty funny and it’s more of a mild inconvenience once the bullet wounds are covered.” Jack shrugs, before wincing in pain.

“Still…” 

“I promise you I’m not mad. You’re forgiven. You just need to buy me a new taser.”

“Well if you’re happy I’m happy. You still haven’t gotten me food. I’m not a patient man, Old Sport.”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to…”

“Good then we can pick up some MacDongalds on the drive to your apartment.”

“…I take it that that’s your special way of inviting yourself to my home again?”

“Oh absolutely. I’ll never give up an opportunity to go home with my Old Sport, plus, you clearly can’t drive right now, and my home situation is… not one. I got evicted last week because all Fazbender’s pays is tokens and you shockingly can’t pay your rent in tokens.”

“Sure you can if you get a good landlord.”

“…Say Sportsy does that apartment building of yours have any places for sale?”

“Nope, looks like your stuck in the dumpsters Aubergine man.”

“):”

“Oh don’t be like that…”

“))))):”

“Fine you can stay in my apartment until you can get your own.”

“:D”

.

.

.

The two didn’t talk much on the drive to Jack’s apartment. They didn’t need to. Jack was resting, still shirtless, which Dave definitely didn’t mind- wait no, gay thoughts bad. Not right now. They both knew Dave wouldn’t need any directions to get to the apartment.

They stopped at McChungis where Jack ordered nothing but a small burger smothered in horseradish, and Dave ordered a truly unholy amount of fries and milkshakes. (McDangDangDanglds accepts fazcoin!)

Once they reached the apartment building and parked, Dave helped Jack limp up to the elevator, where they terrified a young woman with a child with both their mannerisms and Jack’s bullet wound.

They eventually get to Jack’s floor and find his room after some trial and error (Jack didn’t remember his room because it was a somewhat new place, he was running on adrenaline, and he was tired. Fortunately but creepily, Dave did.)

Once they get into the apartment, Jack sits down.

“So, what should we do now Spo-“ Dave is interrupted by the sound of Jack loudly snoring, now curled up on the couch.

Dave picks Jack up bridal style and brings him to his room, laying him down gently. 

Just as he’s about to walk away Jack pulls him back instinctively. Dave decides he’s tired anyway and he’s always up for anything that puts him closer to Jack, so he lays down beside him.

“I love you.” Dave mutters under his breath before falling asleep.

“I love you too…” Jack replies, it’s hard to say if he were awake or not.

(Note: Again, sincere apologies for this taking 100 years to make, please do give Reqs I’m just slow but I will get to them.

Well anyway I hope you enjoyed your Ouija brand Davesport with a side or bullet wounds!)

#dsaf #dayshift at freddys #dsaf fanfic #dsaf dave #dsaf jack #dsaf old sport #davesport #henry mentioned #Req

[jeffthesalamander]

The Story of One: See The Unseen

Pairing: WandaNat x Rihanna (Ri)

Words: 2,134

Warning: blood, abuse, depression, angst, anxiety, nightmares, being tied down, panic, hospital settings, feeling of loneliness. Honestly just beware this may have symptoms of PTSD. When future chapters come out this will be more present so beware and stay safe.

Summary of full series: Rihanna is from an abusive household. Her friends are her saviors, their love for Ri undying. Rihanna realizes her feelings for her two saviors after she runs away. Will she confess her love for the two women? Or will she refuse to let herself be loved.

Summary of chapter: Rihanna runs away from home and runs into her friends.

A/N: This was a project for my creative writing class and I feel the need to elaborate. I hope you enjoy but do read at your own risk. Also i set this to post Monday but my computer was glitching so this may post a bunch of times on Monday, I’ll delete them as soon as I can. It’s not the singer btw lmao

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My eyes struggle to stay open. The world fades from black to reality. I’m currently sitting at my old cherry wood desk. The dim light of my phone read 23:12.

The light smell of roses fill my nostrils, it is from my incense burning on the corner of the desk. I have had it for so long that if you were to lift it you could clearly see where the dust stops. Leaving the true color of the wood visible. The scent calms me.

My shoulders destress letting my body melt into my old office chair. Earlier I had an argument with my mother. She told me wanting to hang out with my girlfriend was an act of sin and it was selfish of me to think otherwise. That automatically had tears burning my eyes and made my jaw tight. My cold fingers clenched at my pen. The thought of my mother being so unforgiving is too overwhelming.

I shoot up out of my chair, my body stiff. I could feel the impact of my chair hitting the opposite wall through the floor. The stress is too overbearing. My body is yelling for me to get out. It screams for me to move my legs. For the first time, I listen.

Blinking to bring myself back to reality I let my legs move. They move me towards the door. The bottom of my feet glide over the beige carpet covering the old creaky wood. My shaky hands wrap around the cold bronze door knob, pulling the door open.

My breath stops in my throat.

My eyes are met with my mothers. She is standing there in her pajamas with a look of worry in her eyes. Her mouth pulls into a line as she realizes what state I am in.

“Honey go back to bed.” Her hand goes to lay on my shoulder but I push past her.

I run out the front door, not caring how it is below freezing. My toes and finger tips go numb almost immediately. As the door slams shut behind me, at my own hand, I grab the spare key. Once the freezing metal landed in my pocket I took off running.

I made my way into the eerie woods next to my house. I usually come here to meet up with my friends when my mother gets bad. Sometimes she doesn’t come home until late. She’ll wake me up just to wrap her hand around my throat and to sting my cheek. Other times when she isn’t drunk she’ll slam her fist into my ribs till I am on the ground. That’s when she would kick me till I’m bleeding. The blood would come from the lesions her pointy leather boots make. Right now bruises cover my hips and neck.

I ran until my lungs burned and my legs were shaking in weakness. I can’t tell the difference between tree and person so I just keep running. My nose drips in cold and my feet are white now. The tears can’t help but warm my cheeks for a second. My running has slowed to a limp walk. My back aches and my legs were numb and it felt like I was walking on pins and needles. That’s when I came to an opening. The rays of the moon glimmered off the waterfall. It was small but beautiful.

I hear a stick break and my head snaps to the sound. Panic sets over me as I scan the opening. That’s when my eyes met with two people. A boy with blonde hair and a woman with pitch black locks. They were sitting with their backs to me, their shoulders touching. They looked close. A pang of jealousy ran through me. I wanted that. I don’t know who these two are but they look so happy.

I took a step forward and both their head looked in my direction. The boy had wide eyes and the women looked like she might have been ready to kill me. As I study their face I realize who these two are.

“Wanda?” My voice comes out shaky and I turn my attention to the body.

“Charlie?”

I must look crazy right now.

“Ri” Wanda says as her eyes scan over my body.

“Mom!” The boy said excitedly.

He ran towards me and and wrapped his arms around my waist. Charlie also came from a bad household. One day I was out with Wanda and we came across him shaking like a leaf in a dark alley. He looked so small and frail. We had asked if he was alright and if he needed help. He just simply nodded and let us lead him to Wanda’s house. There we would feed him, give him water, and somewhere to sleep safely.

“Are you okay? What happened?” His question brought me back to reality. It let my tears slowly drip down my face.

“My dear, let her sit.” Wanda laid her hand on his shoulder letting him step away from me. I give him a reassuring smile and kiss his forehead.

“Wanda, do you think we could go to Natalia’s house? I don’t feel safe at home.” Before I could even finish the sentence she was nodding her head and texting that we were on our way.

We walked to Wanda’s wife’s house. Natalia and Wanda have been married for two years. They met after Natalia was released by the AISE. She had been a retired Italian spy for a while. She has swore to me that she would protect me till her dying breath. Even if that was a bit concerning I appreciate her concern. She is my absolute favorite person. Whenever I come over we have late night conversations about life.

She has been my safe space for such a long time. I go to her for everything and she listens. She would hold me till the shaking stopped.

She was my mother when my real one wasn’t.

The moment I stepped foot on Natalia’s porch I was entangled in strong arms.

“Who do I have to kill?” Of course she knew something was wrong.

“My mother.” I frown and her arms tighten around me. Like they could stop the world from hurting me. I let tears run down my cheeks as my head rests on her shoulder. My whole body visibly relaxes.

“I’m sorry, honey.” She says with concern in her voice. I can feel her head move. Before I could worry she kissed my forehead in a motherly manner. She pulls away with a sigh.

“Where are your shoes?” She says a bit with an angry tone as she pushes me inside. Warmth travels through my body and my feet tingle. I hum in appreciation of the heat.

“I didn’t have time to put them on.” She glared but I knew it wasn’t directed at me.

She had lit a fire with the glare cemented to her face. But when she turned to me sitting on the couch her eyes softened. The crackle of the fire let my body sink into the cushions more. Exhaustion took over my body. The last thing I feel is a heavy blanket placed on my legs followed by fingers running through my hair and a kiss on my forehead again.

“Good night, my little dove.” Natalia whispered.

Another kiss on my head followed her words. Then Wanda spoke.

“Good night, bean. You’re safe now” A nickname Wanda has been calling me since I was young.

I could hear their light footsteps leading to their room then my world fades to a dream state.

I’m running. My legs close to collapsing and my lungs sting. Dark green pine trees blur around me. My eyes burn and a sob broke out from between my lips. I was running for my life. My heart pounding in my chest cavity. The wind is almost deadly. It made my hair stick to my lip gloss. His large footsteps follow close behind me. It sent terror through my body. I must have fallen or hit something because my world went black.

I was strapped down in a brown leather chair. The straps around my wrist and ankles were made of thick leather. The friction from them irritated my wrists. My head snaps to my left to see a machine. It had multiple gauges and one lever. It’s like something you would see as a person on death row. My body trembled with terror. The bright white light overhead was dulled by a man’s face in front of me. When he realized I was fully focused on me a smirk played on his lips. I beg and beg for my life. I don’t understand what is happening and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

No. no. no. no.

My husband stood next to him and I screamed for him to make this stop. But he just stayed silent. His eyes bored into mine. It looked like he enjoyed it.

A piece of wood was placed in between my lips and my eyes went wide.

No. no. no. no.

I struggle against the leather restaurants. I scream for help over and over and over again. But no one ever came. Tears spill from my eyes as I keep screaming for help. My ginger hair was sticking to my cheeks. The doctor demanded I stop with a slap to the face and a hand around my throat.

“Shut up.” He spat.

He pulled the lever and electricity shot through me. My scream rang through the building. The lights flickering and glass broke. My body convulsed with the lights. Each only stopped when the lever was lifted and electricity was no longer forced through me. By the time it stopped it was too late. With my eyes staring at my guilty husband, life left my body. Leaving my limp old self. All I could see my white with deafening silence. It felt like I was looking down at my dead body.

I jolt up, my heart pounding. My eyes frantically analyze my surroundings. Checking for any immediate danger. When I realize I am indeed alone I let out a deep breath. The fire was only small embers and a small chill broke over my skin.

I need Natalia and Wanda. But I fear they will yell at me. Even when I knew they would never, my mother drilled it in my brain. She said it was childish and I needed to learn to grow up. How could I? How could I when the panic and death felt so real?

Despite the war in my head I walk to their door. My hands trembling and my legs shaky.

I’m terrified.

I am careful not to step on any of the creaky floor boards. I softly bring my knuckles to the wooden door three times. Our emergency code knock. I felt like hours before I even heard movement. I was tempted to just turn around and try to suck it up. But the door opened and I was met with Natalia’s concerned eyes.

“Another nightmare?” She asked softly.

These nightmares happened so often when I was away from my mother. It’s like she cursed my brain.

I just nod and let the tears fall from my eyes. Her arms wrap around me and I almost collapse.

“It felt so real, Nat. I’m so sorry” I cry.

“I know, dove. It’ll be okay I promise.” She said and I responded with a small nod against her shoulder. I bury my nose against her neck and hug her like she might be taken away at any moment.

I felt a second pair of arms around my waist.

“It’s okay, bean. We will always love you” Wanda’s voice sounds so comforting. A sob escapes my mouth and a wave of relief washes over me.

“Thanks moms.” I joke with a shaky voice. A small smile is on my lips. Wanda gives me a little nudge with a chuckle and Natalia just chuckles.

“You watch yourself young lady.” Natalia smiles.

“Now why don’t we get you back to bed, dove.” Before I could even protest Wanda was saying something.

“Nat will sing you that Russian lullaby.” I nod and pull away from the two making my way back to the couch. Once I was comfortable they laid the heavy blanket on me and a melody played for Natalia’s lips. A small smile played on my lips and I let my body sink into the cushion once again. My eyes flutter closed.

“Спокойной ночи, мой голубчик” Natalia spoke.

Goodnight, my little dove.

They both placed a kiss on my head and made their way to their room. This time no nightmares threatened my sleep and I felt safe.

Finally

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandnat x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel #marvel fanfic idea #marvel fanfic #natalia romanova

[pretty-boys-book-club]

Quick update

As I’m sure you can tell from the lack of updates to my fics, I’ve been experiencing a severe writer’s block for the past few two or three months.

I don’t mean the type of writer’s block where I can’t think of nothing original, but the type of writer’s block where my mind flat out refuses to form a cohesive sentence any time I sit down to try and write.

And I’m sure it’s something that has happened for many of you. You hit a wall. You’re have no idea what to write about. You try to look at the same topic from another angle, but there’s something wrong that you can’t quite figure out and you don’t have the inspiration you had before to do so. So you stop writing for a day, two days, then a week, then a fortnight and suddenly there’s been months where you didn’t post anything new. So questions start to pop up, the most dreadful of all: is anyone reading what I’m writing anyhow?

I haven’t experienced something like this before and it’s honestly just really messing with my self esteem and my anxiety. And to be quite honest, it’s not just my fanfics. Lately I feel like it’s my entire life, as if I’m under-performing everywhere. To be completely honest with you, I’m struggling even to write this post, too. (You’ll probably find some typos. But writing this serves as an exercise for me right now in terms of just letting words flow). Overall, an activity I used to love and would come very easily to me feels extraneous and stressful at the moment, and I’m taking that as a sign that I just need to give myself some more time.

I struggled with burnout in the past, so I’ve pushed myself past my limit plenty of times and it’s left me mentally exhausted before and I don’t want a replay of that. I’m currently up for a promotion at work and trying to save as much money as I can for an upcoming trip with a couple of friends on November, so real life has been pretty demanding and stressful. I’m also currently facing a couple of health related issues (thankfully, none of them are quite serious) so I’ve been spending time going to my doctors office, seeing a nutritionist and working on my physical well being. I’ve been also working hard with my therapist on allowing myself to truly rest during my free time (I haven’t taken a vacation from work since the pandemic began) and being more present, so being alone in my room writing is not that beneficial to my healing at the moment. I get how writing can be therapeutic for many (and it has helped me tremendously over the years, don’t get me wrong) but currently I don’t feel like it’s beneficial for my mental health to spend long periods of time by myself or inside my own room. I hope you understand that.

So I’ve made the decision to extend my break from trying to write for an additional few weeks or even for a couple of months. I’m not exactly sure how long this will last, but I think it’s what’s best for me. I might publish something during this time but don’t expect any sort of consistency in terms of schedule or frequency. I’m hoping taking the pressure off my mind will help get the creative juices flowing and just be more mindful of my current limitations. I’ll be spending this time reblogging content that makes me happy, likely brainstorming what I want to do with this space, seeing my friends and family, trying to get back at reading books (a habit also lost due to mental exhaustion), prioritising my mental and physical health and, of course, rewatching Criminal Minds (which I still adore).

I’m sorry for being so absent lately and I hope you’re doing well. I feel grateful for all the loving interactions I’ve had on the Criminal Minds fandom and plan on continuing to interact with all the amazing people I’ve met.

Much love,

Cat

#personal update #tired cat #cat rambles #reposting bc tumblr messed up the formatting of the other one #blog update #housekeeping #trying to beat writers block

[faarkas]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

tagged by the lovely @rosebarsoap to do this lil game and I'm trying to be better about doing my tags sooo.

saying that I am already late and everybody has been tagged so. I shan't tag anybody my apologies,

1. are you named after anyone?

Naur but I have a middle name that is also my aunts middle name. :3

2. when was the last time you cried?

Like PROPER cried??? genuinely no idea. I used to cry really easily but for a long time its been literally 3 tears and then the rest just suck back up. I get choked up really easy but no tears allowed. On that note the latest season of queer eye has been hitting so hard. everybody go watch.

3. do you have kids?

no and I don't ever want them. I love kids I feel a drive to protect them and I'll babysit any day but I would be an absolutely terrible mother I'm too anxious and like. hot headed to have one of my own. Also a lot of my health issues are genetic and I wouldn't want to put anybody through that.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

uhhh maybe?? probably?? idk ask nat. or my mother. I try to be sarcastic in a dry funny way and not like an overly mean way. does not mean i always succeed tho :/

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

I've worked with horses for... 18 years?? so. heh. didn't want to or have the money to do anything else after i got involved with them.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Like. body language. and then eyes. theres so much u can learn about people just by the way they hold themselves yk

7. eye colour?

brown. >:)

8. scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings. i need joy in my life. I like Some kind of spooky movies the older I get but largely I just want something chill. the like 1995-2012 romcom era is my heaven. CAN WE START RLY BRINGING THOSE MOVIES BACK PLEASE!

9. any special talents?

?? idk ig I know how to pull hay and get it off wagons quickly. I can look at like a solid wall of hay bales and go Yeah THATS the one that needs to come out and then either I or my friend will pull it and it'll bring half the wall down. we call it hay jenga but the goal is to get as much down as possible as fast as possible

10. where were you born?

west coast canada. do not live there anymore tho i swapped coasts :(

11. what are your hobbies?

writing, gaming, modding, sewing, giffing, baking, bothering all my mutuals, riding,,,,I am a jack of creative trades

12. do you have any pets?

two ponies, a big ass dog, and 4 cats. two of which are maine coons so. big ass cats. when u see me crowing about eric and iris in the tags of a post...i am talking about them :))

13. how tall are you?

5 foot. maybe 5'1". tiny. literally on saturday one of the moms at the barn bought a new western saddle cover and was like hilary u could fit in this jump in and i honestly think I might have been able to.

14. favourite subject in school?

i really did not enjoy school tbh im rly not an academic but maybe history.

15. dream job?

the answer to this question has evaded me for nearing 24 years. at one point in time (age like. 4-11) i would have KILLED to be a thoroughbred jockey but nowadays...idk man. if I could do something with horses that would be great. thats my one true skillset baby but mein health....

#this is so horse centric oh my god #hil.txt #tagged #ty rosie <333

[infini-tree]

hmmm while i’m busy with other things, i want to write my own personal headcanons for the boys’ future (feat. how they met billy and lisa)

middle and high school isn’t something i really nailed down significantly. they probably started doing webcomics once webcomic hosting sites became a thing. theyre either the type to keep rebooting a story, or stick with smaller episodic stuff so they don’t get tired of it

(either that or they made their own website and asked melvin for help in coding it in exchange for. Something?)

harold probably figured out he was gay at around late middle school/early high school. i can imagine him getting crushes easily but never really acted upon them until billy (george gets an earful of his pining sometimes, jdkfk)

as the years pass they try to keep up the comic updates but they kind of hit a wall once they reach college/university and the schedule becomes wonky. at this point, i’d like to think they’ve got a small following online/at local artist comic conventions and sell small prints of it (sometimes they see krupp and catch up with the both of them)

i think i mentioned it during the cashmere drabble i did ages ago but i imagine billy was actually in one of george’s elective classes in college/uni (probably creative writing), but before billy started dating harold they just were not in each other’s radar.

i honestly think that george’s first impression of billy was that he can be a little snooty/has Overbearing Theatre Kid vibes, but once they get to know each other via hanging out with harold does it smooth over

billy and harold meet in the school’s improv club and start dating. they sometimes have this reserved/outgoing dynamic to them, but who’s who changes on what they’re doing

the boys probably starred in billy’s thesis films as side characters/extras. they joke that after this, “they’re retiring from show business”

lisa, on the other hand is into filk music and was part of a small group that made fan songs on youtube tubetube! i imagine her or one of her friends being into the boys’ comics and made a little fansong about it, and that caught the boys’ (especially george’s) attention. they met up at a local convention

#mells thinking out loud on her blog again #for added clarity: my personal timeline has it set so the boys are in 4th grade at 1997-8 #that baseline also applies to sticky notes too #this is also conditionally canon to sticky notes #does the 5 tag thing even work anymore #captain underpants

[vesyl]

Ves Update!

I've been so inactive lately, but honestly? Life. That's it, just life.

Between constant allergies and other things popping up, I haven't had the time to scroll through in a while. Not to mention the creative wall I've hit, which I finally feel like I'm breaking through?

I, for once, have gotten an idea for a story that I'd like to attempt. I'm also hoping to go active in my little writing group again, as well as hopefully getting back into roleplaying with my primary rp partners.

#Ves Update #Can we PLEASE punt allergies into the sun??? #I'd like to not sneeze every minute or so #It's just.. an all day thing for me

[lesbiandeerstory]

IT’S DEER DEV UHHHHHH “WEDNESDAY”

so i missed last week and yesterday’s updates bcuz full disclosure life has been kicking my ass a bit lately, got alot of irons in the fire etc. but deer development doesn’t stop just bcuz my life is a mess, otherwise nothing would ever get done!

in my last update i challenged myself to try and chill out a bit so i could get thru a creative slump, and i guess mission failed successfully bcuz while i decidedly did NOT chill, i DID get thru that slump

in another recent post i talked about how i was dissatisfied with my magic system bcuz i couldn’t help comparing it unfavorably to homestuck’s aspect system, and also bcuz i’ve been struggling to come up with a deer magic system for 2 goddamn years and failing at it for that long was starting to get to me

well GOOD NEWS i have finally completed the magic system, for real this time. there’s a sense of finality that i kinda just feel in my bones when i KNOW that i’ve gotten somthn right creatively, and also at some point u just gotta put ur foot down and say “this is what we’re doing, we NEED to move on”. and i feel both of those ways about this system

part of the thing was that it was actually TWO systems i needed to figure out, one for classes and one for magic itself, and while the two systems are meant to function in harmony with each other, their separateness was a crucial distinction to make bcuz both systems required different tools to figure them out and create them

for the class system i needed to look at this world, these characters, and this story and see what kind of system naturally arose and could be extrapolated from what information was ALREADY THERE. but for magic i needed to tap into a mystical power, a sort of real life magic if u will. i am ofc referring to the magic of AUTISTIC HYPERFIXATION

so i made a class system based on the world and the characters, and i made a magic system based on a real life thing that i am fairly knowledgeable and EXTREMELY passionate about

i talked about the systems on twitter dot com a little already, in some very rambly threads, and i’ll try to clean those threads up a bit and port them over here to the dev blog in a way that’s more simple and clean so that we can all be on the same page about deer magic and deer classes

and then i will FINALLY have the deer magic post done. there will even be pictures! and by “pictures” i mean “bright colored text on a black background in png form”

i’ve also made some progress in terms of the writing and actual DEVELOPMENT, not just working on system mechanics. i’ve been fucking around with renpy a bit to get comfortable with the actual tools i’ll be using, and while i do occasionally hit a wall of “technology problem i don’t understand how to solve” by and large 90% of working with renpy is the easiest shit in the world

i have a decent idea of how to write my scripts in a way that’s compatible with how renpy parses them, which makes things even easier. once i have finished scripts, the part where i put them into renpy to make them visual novels will NOT BE A CHALLENGE

as for said scripts i’m making some progress there too. one hurdle i have to deal with is that i just don’t have time in my day realistically to dig out my bulky work computer to write as much script as i need to write. if i relied solely on my work computer to write the scripts, they would take eons to get finished and i want to be making consistent progress, EVERY DAY if possible!

but my non-work machine is a chromebook which is a little bastard devil machine that doesn’t have any of my writing tools on it, so i’ve had to get a little creative with how i write scripts. but that works out extremely well for me bcuz i do my best work when i’m forced to get creative about HOW i do that work

so i’ve figured out a way to write scripts without my writing tools and honestly?? i’ve only written one scene so far but the scene rocked ass AND!!!! this new method also has the added bonus of helping me skip one of the more boring steps of production so that’s pretty cool, and it fits the way my brain parses information super well. i think it’s a good system and i’m excited to experiment with it even more. i won’t go into the boring details of my process tho, suffice to say it’s so far working out knock on wood

i still like the idea of doing weekly challenges for myself, even if i haven’t been able to succeed at either of the two that i’ve set for myself so far lmao, but this week bcuz i’m kinda sifting thru the rubble and bomb ashes i’m just gonna play it by ear and see what i can do, and hopefully get back on a regular weekly update schedule this wednesday!

#deer lore #dev lore

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[bakusquad-assemble]

hiya lol could you write a bakugou x reader and (they're dating already) and he's just being soft for her and cuddling in his dorm and he starts tickling her and she's screaming n stuff so the class rush in and are totally not expecting to see bakugou practically sat on reader and tickling her, lol no pressure obvs lol

Ahhhh thank you so so much for the request,lovely!! I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it! Soft boy Bakugou has my whole heart! I’m very slowly making my way through my request inbox, but feel free to send me more prompts to get the creative juices flowin!

Bakugou Katsuki was never one to show affection so openly like his other classmates would with their significant others. He was a reserved person, and the idea of PDA had always embarrassed him. So when the two of you had started dating, you were very aware of how he reacted to being touched, and respected him enough to never poke or prod in public. What took you by surprise though, was how different he was in your private company. The once prickly and standoffish boy couldn’t keep his hands off of you. At first it was jarring, his warm arms around you feeling so foreign and new, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. Sometimes you even found yourself teasing the poor touch deprived boy to see how much he needed your body against his. It was cruel, sure, but also incredibly validating to have Bakugou huff and puff until you paid attention to him. Today was one of those days.

Bakugou made his way to your dorm room after class as he did everyday, his textbooks from class slung over his shoulder in his book bag, fully intent to study and spend some quality time with you. Just being in your presence always had a calming effect on the explosive boy, so he found himself drawn to you every chance he got. He knocked once on your door before letting himself in, tossing his bag to the floor and locking his crimson eyes onto your form. You were already sitting at your desk, head buried in your book and head nestled in the palm of your hand. You made no movement in his direction, instead keeping your eyes glued to the pages before you.

“Hey, Suki.” You smiled softly at his presence, earning a grunt in return. He threw himself onto your bed, looking over at you longingly but still said nothing as he pulled out his own papers and got to work. The two of you sat in silence for a bit, a smirk ever present on your face. You could feel the boy's frustration radiating off his body and knew that it would only be a matter of time before he got sick of the lack of contact. Bakugou cleared his throat and you lifted your head ever so slightly.

“You okay? You need some water or something?” You teased, finally turning to look at him over your shoulder. He was looking at you with furrowed brows, a light flush spread across his cheeks.

“why the fuck are you still sitting over there?” He asked, trying his best not to sound desperate, but a little seeped through. You could’ve melted on the spot from his tone.

“I’m doing my work.” You stated plainly, turning your back to him once more to hide your smile. You could hear him growl at your response.

“Yeah no shit dumbass, but why are you doing it over there? You don’t want to spend time with me or somethin?” He tried his best to look anywhere but you, feeling the embarrassment overtake him. You could hear the distress in his voice and you couldn’t help but let out the laugh you’ve been stifling. He was so needy and you loved it. You put down your pen on the desk and turned completely in your chair, finally facing your red faced boyfriend.

“the fuck you laughing at?” He looked confused, trying to flesh out the meaning of your behavior.

“Aw what’s the matter, Katsuki? Does someone need attention?” You teased again, your head cocked to the side toyingly. You saw his demeanor change immediately. The once confused expression was replaced with a devious grin as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. You were fucking with him.

“Oh, you little shit!” Bakugou jumped off of his place on the bed and rushed at you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the chair roughly. You couldn’t stop the loud scream that escaped your mouth, echoing throughout the room and cascading down the hallway of the dorms.

“Tryin to mess with me, huh?” He snickered into your ear, holding you against his body tightly as you tried to fight against his hold. Laughter bubbled out of your throat as Bakugou picked you up with ease, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way back to his previous spot in the room. Despite your kicking and playful fighting, Bakugou’s grip on you barely wavered. He slammed your body down onto the bed and climbed on top of you, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well now I’m gonna make you pay for that.” His voice was sinister, dangerous, and you had no doubt that he meant business. Panic washed over you, and your fighting against the blondes grip got more frantic.

“No no no!” You laughed nervously, the sound mimicking that of a person in immediate danger, a scream of terror, but you were smiling and so was your boyfriend.

“Too late, you made me mad and now you’ve got to pay for it.” He let his hands live on your hips for a second, relishing in the feeling of your presence, before digging his calloused fingers into the sides of your body. Bakugou’s tickles were vicious, but there was still a certain softness to his hands. He let them roam your body, feeling every curve and smooth expanse of skin. His laugh cascaded around you like snow flurries, beautiful but bitting. To everyone but you, the sound was devious, Filled with malicious intent, but you knew better. So you laughed too. You laughed so hard that you could barely breathe.

“S-stop! Stop please, it hurts!” You felt your lungs burning, your chest tightening uncomfortably as Bakugou’s tickles only got more intense. You let out another scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried to fight off the strong blonde boy on top of you. It was no use though, he easily overpowered you in your current state. You thought about using your quirk to get him off of you, but honestly you didn’t really want him to stop. You loved feeling his hands wander your body, feeling his hot breath against the crook of your neck. It was intoxicating.

“In your dreams, y/n! You’re fucking dead!” You screamed once again, this time much louder, cowering from the anticipation of his punishment, but it never came. Instead you heard your door swing open, hitting the wall with some force. Both of you jumped at the sudden noise, and the sudden appearance of some familiar faces standing on high alert in your doorway. Bakugou made no motion to move from on top of you, instead shooting a dangerous glare towards the four idiots that had just made their appearance, their voices ringing in his ears like gunfire.

“Y/n?? Are you okay?” Mina’s voice echoed throughout the room immediately

“We heard screaming! Is everyone alright?” Kirishima spoke up next, his voice laced with obvious concern. The four figures froze in the doorway as they took in the actuality of the scene, a blush fighting its way fervently up Bakugou’s neck. Kaminari and Sero attempted to stifle their laughter, but to no avail.

“Oh ho ho, shit!” Looks like we had the wrong idea!” Kaminari snickered, bumping Sero in the side with his elbow.

“Damn, you two sure do have a weird way of gettin it on!” Sero chuckled, causing Kaminari to laugh even harder.

“Come on man, don’t kink shame them!” Kaminari’s stupid voice had Bakugou seething with rage.

“DON'T YOU FUCKERS KNOW HOW TO KNOCK?” Bakugou’s voice bellowed throughout the room, causing you to wince just from sheer proximity. Your face was a light shade of pink from being found in a compromising position, but Bakugou’s was fire engine red. Kirishima shifted awkwardly in his spot, bumping Kaminari hard in an attempt to get him to stop laughing.

“We’re sorry, Bro! It just...sounded like Y/n needed help! that’s all! We were all chilling in Mina’s room down the hall and heard her screaming!” Kirishima pleaded apologetically, clearly shaken that he had overstepped in such a personal way for the angry blonde. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make his best friend angry or uncomfortable.

“JUST GET OUT BEFORE I KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!” Bakugou yelled again, this time effectively stifling the laughter coming from Kaminari and Sero. Mina let out a soft giggle, ushering the terrified boys out of the room in one swift motion, feigning confidence to hide her own fear of being blown to bits.

“Alright guys, nothin’ to see here! I think we should give these two love birds their privacy.” You could feel Bakugou growl softly at her words, causing you to chuckle into your hand. Mina gave you a wink and a flirty little wave as she closed the door behind her, leaving you and Bakugou alone once more. Bakugou quickly took a pillow from your bed and chucked it at the door as it closed as hard as he could, making contact with a loud thud and earning a screech of terror from the other side of the door.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before laughter cascaded from your lips. Bakugou looked back at you with wild eyes, clearly confused by the sudden noise of happiness.

“The fuck are you laughing about now?” You shook your head and wiped your eyes before looking back at him, a smile ever present on your face.

“It’s just...of course they had to barge in like that! They never cease to amaze me. ” You let your smile fade slightly as your hand reached out to caress his cheek. He hesitated for a second before allowing his form to melt into your touch.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. Are you okay? I know you don’t like letting people see you like that. ” Your soft voice enveloped him, causing him to nod ever so slightly into your hand.

“M’fine. Those dumbasses just get under my fucking skin.” You let out a soft laugh, nodding with him.

“I mean, at least we know they’d come save me if I was ever being murdered.” Bakugou let an exhale of breath from his nose, the corners of his lips upturning ever so slightly.

“I’d get there first.” His confident tone was masked with warmth, a tone you recognized all too well. It was the same tone he talked in when he talked about your future together. It was filled with love. You rolled your eyes, but you still let the smile rest on your lips. You pulled Bakugou down next to you, keeping your eyes locked onto his crimson ones.

“ I know you would.” You whispered before bringing your lips to meet his in a loving kiss. It was short-lived contact, but still sent a shiver up Bakugou’s spine. He never expected to fall in love, never once imagined he’d let himself be so vulnerable in front of another human, but there was something about you that broke him down. Every single wall he had made that he believed to be impenetrable, you demolished with a single kind and understanding smile. And while Bakugou never imagined himself falling in love, he had unequivocally and irrevocably, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulled you in close to his chest, letting you rest your head there as he let himself savour the gentle sounds of your breath. He ran his hands through your hair gently as he felt you speak up once more, the words escaping your mouth causing a surge of pride to rush through the blonde boy's body.

“you’re my hero, after all.”

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha imagines #mha #bakusquad imagines #bakusquad

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 142

Another late chapter... I’m really batting a thousand lately, seems like.

So, work has been insane, but @baelpenrose reminds me to post when I forget, thankfully. And this is SUCH a fun chapter.  I hope you all enjoy!

I dropped into a seat in Mess Hall Seven with a groan, so exhausted that I barely managed to get soup and a grilled cheese from the console.  Tyche yawned and nodded in agreement before poking at her sushi bowl idly. It was six Von-days after the last drill, and between coordinating increased training schedules for Shelters Three and Seven and helping Charly plan kink-night at the Undine, we were wiped.

“People are ungrateful,” she muttered before managing to barely balance a piece of salmon into her mouth.

I muttered something that hopefully sounded like agreement before I scooped up a bite of my soup with one wedge of sandwich, too lazy to even bother with the spoon. “Remind me why we don’t have Vati and Hannah handling the practice schedules?”

“Because they are handling the extra evacuation drills with Jokul and Arthur.”

Personally, I thought they were getting the better end of this deal, but since the raging success of their first Food Festival, it really was only fair. “And the relocations for those who need it,” I admitted. “Except mine.”

“Conor may actually strangle one of them if any of your plants don’t make it,” she pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis after having given up and using her fingers to eat her lunch. “Not to mention I wouldn’t wish packing with Maverick on anyone.”

“He’s letting me pack the books and textiles.” I shrugged in acceptance after taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.

We picked at our food in silence after that, grateful for something resembling a reprieve, before we were interrupted by a flurry of grey hair and enthusiasm landing in one of the nearby chairs with a heavy thunk. “Good afternoon, Madams Reid.”

“Hey, Jokul,” I muttered as Tyche just waggled her fingers at him. I really think I liked it better when he was trying to kill me. Right now, I might even let him do it.

“I know you are both on your meal period, but I wanted to test the waters on potentially scheduling a community activity,” he rushed out.

Tyche guarded her lunch with an almost feral aggression, having heard what happened the last time Jokul had interrupted my lunch. “That should really be something you run by Al-”

“Worthington, yes, I know,” he interrupted. “However, I know you are both quite busy and I wanted to be respectful of your time. As such, I will make this as brief as - ow!” He snatched his hand back away from the other half of my sandwich, rubbing where I had slammed my spoon down onto it.

“I have no idea where the food stealing comes from, but don’t,” I warned him.

“Rude, got it,” he nodded in a terrifying impression of Charly’s normal demeanor. “As I was saying, I recently learned a new type of game from Terra, from the Before.  It involves teamwork, and encourages creativity and escapism, and I think it would be a very good community activity - “

I surrendered to my urge to groan. “We are not doing a redux of Settlers of Cattan. Arthur stabbed someone last time.”

“I didn’t press charges…” Jokul pouted, glancing at the scar on the back of his wrist briefly. “Besides, it was only a fork. Clearly he didn’t mean it, there were four knives in arms reach counting my own.”

Tyche cocked an eyebrow at me. Seriously?

I pursed my lips and wrinkled my nose in response. Yep.

“So what game is it this time?” I asked hesitantly.

I was reward-bombarded with a grin. “It’s called Dungeons and Dragons! Somewhat like a video game, but with more people, and using writing implements and paper. Oh, and different kinds of dice, very important. One person is something of the narrator, to give the game a kind of structure, while the other players act as characters in the game… Ivan introduced me to it, and it is quite challenging with the right people.  The dungeon master - that is the narrator - has to re-evaluate the story based on the actions of the other players, but the players themselves don’t know what the dungeon master is going to do. It is very much a social diversion, and there are many classes….”

As Jokul continued to gush, he was rather oblivious to the fact that Tyche and I were stuffing our faces as quickly as possible to avoid interrupting him or laughing. We had both played when we were younger - in fact, we had been introduced to the game by our mother.  There had even been a very overwhelming pop-culture movement in our youth around the game, which further emphasized just how far out in the boonies Jokul had grown up.  As shocking as it was that he was just now discovering the game, it came at exactly zero surprise that he enjoyed it so much - it was right up his alley of interests.

About fifteen minutes and two more grilled cheeses into his retelling of the campaign he was part of, Charly and Arthur squeezed in with us, their own lunches in tow.  As seemed to be a growing trend, Arthur reached over and snagged one of my sandwiches before I could react, shoving half of it in his face.

That was apparently enough to snap Jokul out of his story. “Hey! Why didn’t you hit him?”

“His deathwish, not my problem,” I shrugged.

Around the remains of my lunch, Arthur managed to enunciate. “Told you, Noah fissed the dairy allergy.”

“Bleargh,” I gagged comically. “It’s okay, think I’m done anyway.”

Jokul’s hand swatted Arthur’s out of the way to steal the rest of my food. “As I was saying, Ivan was quite clever with his resolution to deal subdural damage to the player who was very much ruining the storyline by insisting his character was immune to magical sleep…”

“Oooooo! I love tabletops!” Charly squealed, bouncing in her seat. “What setting are you playing in right now?  My favorite was always Exalted…”

“Miss Harper, I think we are discussing different activities.” Jokul sounded supremely confused, but my heart broke a bit.

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe not Exalted, but what about Ebberron? Swordhaven, maybe?  Just tell me it isn’t Ravenloft… I know you haven’t been fucking around in a Dark Sun, but I beg you to tell me you aren’t playing Ravenloft.”

“I’m not sure what those are… Ivan introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons. There is only one setting.”

“So… Greyhawk or homebrew,” Arthur nodded. “Best place to start, get the basics down.”

Jokul’s head pivoted toward me and Tyche, squinting in annoyance. “You knew, didn’t you? And you let me prattle on…”

“You were so… happy….” I explained plaintively. “We didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Tyche nodded. “We both remember how fun that first campaign is. And honestly? We’ve been having a kind of crappy day.  It was nice to hear someone be excited about something that isn’t work related.”

“But I came to you to discuss making it a ship activity…”

“Originally, yeah,” I shrugged. “That was maybe the first thirty seconds.  After that, you were doing what literally every tabletop roleplaying person has done since the beginning of time… telling stories about the fun, dramatic, and frankly stupid shit the people in your party are doing.”

“Says the two-foot eight halfling rogue,” Arthur scowled.

“I rolled it at random, it was fifteen years ago, get over it!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “At least I wasn’t mated to a frickin’ deity.”

Charly giggled uncontrollably while Jokul goggled at us. “Exalted is broken in all the fun ways.”

“You literally sacrificed, and I quote ‘all of your fucks to give’, for necromancy.”

“That was your idea!”

Jokul turned toward Tyche, waiting for her to say something. She just held up her hands defensively. “I was a murder monk-bunny.”

Arthur snorted. “You were the Black Rabbit of Inle….”

“Well if my wife would have just stopped dying…!”

“At least none of us were the Platinum Knight who pissed his pants every time he confronted his favored enemy,” I laughed. “He never did live that one down. Every. Single. Dragon. He would crit fail his roles.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur intoned drily. “Did I ever tell you about the time one of my players managed to make ‘Notice me, Senpai’ into the most terrifying in-universe warcry imaginable?”

Charly choked before swatting his shoulder. “Not in front of my pasta. Please.”

Jokul, however, looked both horrified and intrigued, egging Arthur on. “Barbarian whose entire clan worshipped a god named The Senpai…. Just imagine, a barbarian in a rage, bellowing ‘NOTICE ME, SENPAI!!!’ before just scything down thirty men with a broadsword.”

At this point, I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. “Please, please tell me there was a kilt and pigtails involved….”

Jokul touched his own hair, before straightening as seriously as possible. “They are warrior’s braids, Councillor.”

That was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just put my head down on my folded arms and waiting to either pass out from laughing so hard or from exhaustion.  A few deep breaths and a spinning head later, I managed to wipe my face on my sleeve and realized the conversation was continuing without me.  Just as I was clearing my throat to let Jokul know he should be fine to start organizing something and to send me a rough outline, Arthur dealt the final blow.

Leaning over, he whispered over my shoulder. “By the way, the barbarian’s name was Drystan of the Doki-doki tribe.”

I was proud that I managed to get up and dash into the hallway before collapsing against the wall in maniacal laughter.  I barely registered Hannah’s voice behind me asking everyone at the table if I needed medical assistance, and that did not help.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[soundsof71]

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women. 

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but  not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these. 

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music. 

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney. 

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here. 

TURN IT UP!

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.” 

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other! 

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters. 

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too! 

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too. 

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

#me #new classics #classic rock #women in rock #best of 2020 #bully #ganser #the tissues #gum country #nova twins #essay #youtube #punk rock #punk

[nct-oli]

I also miss atots! I wanna read your ramblings so may I ask what are some of your head canon for phutian whether it’s during the series or post-series.

HI!! You’re so sweet. I am so sorry that I haven’t responded to this sooner! Life got really hectic, and it honestly kind of stole my creativity, to the point where I read this back when you sent it, but I could not think of a single headcanon at all.

But I’m here and I’m going to finally talk about some because I rewatched ATOTS with a friend and it sparked some headcanons in the process!!

1) This is probably my biggest headcanon. Phupha and Tian wrote emails to each other during their two years apart. I’ve seen some people say letters, and of course letters are super cute and classically romantic. Plus they are fitting given that’s how Tian was communicating with Phupha when he returned to Bangkok. But the reasons I like emails for them are:

Getting letters domestically to a rural village is one thing, but getting them internationally without some of them getting lost feels a bit less likely. And I think Tian and Phupha would know that. So emails are a more consistent and reliable form of communication.

Obviously Phupha can’t access the internet from the village, but you know who does have internet? Dr. Nam. I very much love the idea of Phupha strolling into the clinic every so often trying to be all cool and not at all giddy to check for a new email from Tian, and Dr. Nam never, ever letting him use the computer without a lot of proud best friend teasing. Remember when Phupha went to Dr. Nam to ask what a scar on the chest would mean? Yes, just like that, except regularly. (And when Phupha doesn’t go to Dr. Nam’s clinic, he could go to town to check his email too.)

This part doesn’t really fit the canon storyline at all given Phupha was still gazing at the only photo he had taken of Tian two whole years after taking it and also Phupha never told the children where Tian was. BUT think of the photos they could send each other. Tian sending photos of himself in various places in the US, his hand with Phupha’s ring always visible so Phupha can be there with him for every adventure. Phupha sending photos of the kids as they grow, the tea sachet business (or whatever the villagers end up doing with Mr. Sakda gone), the very rare selfie by a rather self-conscious chief... sending physical letters limits the number of printed photos they could send each other. Plus printing photos may be a bit easier for Tian, given he can just print them at a nearby Walgreens or something, or even have them ordered online. But that would be tougher for Phupha, needing to leave the village and find somewhere. So emailing photos back and forth would be easier.

Imagine Tian printing every email sent back and forth and collecting them. Imagine him in the library with the biggest smile on his face, printing out emails to and from his mountain boyfriend back in Thailand and his university friends watching him with the most confused but intrigued eyes. I love it. I love that idea.

I remember there being discussion post-finale about whether Tian and Phupha communicated in that time at all. The discussion revolves especially around how at ease they seemed in their Pha Pun Dao cliff reunion and they didn’t quite act as though they had been fully apart for two whole years. And I fullheartedly believe they had contact, even if very infrequent. I think they found a way. And while I do think letters are incredibly romantic and fitting, I just have this fondness to emails. Maybe it’s a result of watching We Best Love recently. I’m not sure.

2) Tian chose to go to the US ultimately on his own. Now, we all know his mother is the one who picked the university for him and “sent him away.” But I do like the idea that, after coming to terms with the fact that maybe running away to Pha Pun Dao immediately wasn’t the best plan, especially if Phupha wanted to forget him, he grew to like the idea of going abroad. It would be his chance to have probably as much freedom as he could get. He wanted to go to the US before he died (episode 3 conversation with Tul). He could take time to himself, without the influence of anyone else, and figure out just what he wanted for his life. And when Phupha showed up at the airport and they got their true feelings out in the open, Tian didn’t feel like his family was pushing him away from the man he loved and the life he wanted; he felt that he had agency in choosing the US and asking Phupha to wait for him, to give him the chance to figure out this new chapter first. I find comfort believing Tian didn’t board that plane feeling resentful but instead feeling hopeful. And when he returned, he wasn’t filled with regrets. He was filled with excitement that he was returning home to Pha Pun Dao and Phupha right on time. (Plus Phupha had more confidence when Tian returned to him that he truly wanted to be there in the village with him, because despite literally traveling the world and seeing so many options available to him for places to build his future, Tian still chose Pha Pun Dao.)

3) The teacher’s house remains Tian’s home too. Hear me out: I don’t mean full time. I’m obviously a massive softie for domestic PhuTian, so I want him to still stay with Phupha. And Phupha probably can’t leave the base permanently, as he’s the chief and needs to be there regularly for his rangers, so the two of them can’t move into the teacher’s house fully either. But Phupha’s room is quite small. I love the idea that Tian still escapes sometimes out to the teacher’s house where it’s quiet and he can still have his own space. A space to lesson plan, to take the students when they need a new environment, to feel connected to his three original months in the village when he fell in love with the people and his person (Phupha). That house was his home, and while Phupha’s place is now also his home, I like the idea that Tian still keeps that house for himself too. At least so long as it isn’t needed by anyone else. (Also, if Phupha and Tian need space, well, there’s no Yod out there to start knocking.)

4) This semi-connects to the last one. When Tian and Phupha finally get married, they have a ceremony in the village and Tian convinces Tul to stay a night in Pha Pun Dao. His parents come to the wedding too, but they stay in a hotel in the city, where Tul stays some nights except for the night Tian gets him to stay with him. Tian and Tul stay in the teacher’s house, and Tian tells him all about his many nights sleeping there. Tul is, well, not convinced of its appeal at first, but watching Tian share his stories with the brightest smile, he decides he can warm up to it a little bit. And after seeing Tian with Phupha, with the kids, and with the rest of the village, and finally understanding how perfectly Tian fits in Pha Pun Dao, it starts to make sense to him why some of the luxuries don’t matter to Tian anymore... will Tul himself ever move to a rural village like that? Absolutely not. He’s not convinced that much. But the joy that village life brings his best friend and the glow he exhibits is enough to leave Tul content for one night on a hard mattress inside a mosquito net in the middle of seemingly nowhere. (No but really, imagine the chaos of Tul trying to live in Pha Pun Dao for a night. I want to watch that so much.)

5) Okay, I hope the couple that got married have a child and that child goes to school under Tian’s teaching. Or someone else in the village has a child. Imagine Tian getting a new student and having to navigate a classroom with early teenagers and a tiny kid. (Headcanon within a headcanon: Tian did a LOT of research during his two years abroad specifically on multi-aged classrooms because he knew he wanted to return to Pha Pun Dao one day and would need the skills.)

6) Longtae and Tian most definitely go on that trip across the border that Longtae wanted (just a couple years late). And they have the best time. Longtae tells Tian about any new stories from university. Tian shares stories about his students and tries not to talk about Phupha too much but occasionally can’t help it, to which Longtae smiles brightly like the cute bestie he is. And the two of them get the CUTEST photos that Longtae prints for Tian immediately when he gets back to the city.

All of these headcanons are for those two years away or after he returns. I’m trying to think of some headcanons for the show prior to ep 10 part 4/4...

6) OH this doesn’t necessarily have to be before ep 10 part 4/4 in the timeline, but Phupha and the rangers apologize to Tian and the villagers for not telling them about Torfun’s death sooner and that burden being left for Tian to carry instead. I just want that settled.

7) HERE’S ONE FOR WITHIN THE SERIES TIMELINE. At the wedding in episode 4, Phupha didn’t deny it when Dr. Nam called Tian Phupha’s guy. So yes, of course Dr. Nam started calling Tian that all of the time, to which Phupha did eventually argue against but he secretly liked hearing it. His guy.

8) I’m back to going outside of the timeline again... all of my headcanons are for after the series it seems. Oops. But Tian most definitely brought the kite to Pha Pun Dao with him, and it hangs very proudly on the wall in their room. Tian tells Phupha about how he had it flying back at his family house in Bangkok, how seeing it blow in the wind brought him comfort when he felt homesick for the village and for Phupha. That knowledge had Phupha smiling for the rest of the week.

I’m running out of ideas. I kind of wanted to hit ten, but I just don’t have ten headcanons off the top of my head. BUT if I think of anymore, I’m sure I’ll post about them somewhere. Maybe I’ll even write a ficlet about some of these... I used to write those here and there, way back when... we’ll see.

Thank you again for your message, anon! You are a wonderful human. I’m sorry for taking so long to respond, but I didn’t forget about your message or ignore it. I just couldn’t get my brain to give me anything to respond with! I hope my rambling was sufficient for you. <3

(Also man, I miss writing about ATOTS so ridiculously much. This felt so familiar and also kind of sad. Phupha, Tian, villagers... come back to us. I miss you.)

#phutian #phupha x tian #a tale of thousand stars #atots #1000 stars #anon #I miss ATOTS so much every day #I just rewatch episodes and EarthMix interviews trying to pretend the show didn’t actually end

[bridgettessurfboard]

Blurry Vision (Chapter 2?)

i stg i’ll organize this fic when i upload it to ao3 but for now enjoy this hot dumpster fire 🔥 

At some point in every writer’s career, they hit a wall. And not even an obvious, “oh hey it’s right-there-in front-of-you” kind of wall. It is the clearest glass wall one can imagine. When some writers do hit the glass wall, they’re completely baffled,  sometimes even making the same mistake twice and try to force themselves forward again. Yet they encountered the same fate. Surprise, confusion, and whatever negative emotions brought forth by the unexpected obstacle. 

“Hmmm,” Noah sighed, shaking his head as he pressed on the backspace key, “Ugh. Whatever. Maybe coffee will get the creative juices flowing.” 

He made his way into the kitchen, mentally mulling through the many brews he had acquired in his coffee collection before glancing over to see his phone on the kitchen counter. From there, he could see the notifications lighting up his screen. 

Noah already knew the texts were from Owen. Probably hyping up a new restaurant that they should check out together. 

Hey Noah buddy!!!! 

nbNoooaah

Hey are u therre!? 

Anywayt there’s a new hot pot restaurnby doqntown thats got great reviews!! 

Wanna checjk it out for lunch?

Noah smiled. He knew his best friend was excited based on how many typos were in his texts. He picked up his phone and began typing. 

Sure thing, buddy. Could you give me the address?

*~*~*

When Noah arrived at the restaurant, he was in awe at how upscale it was. This wasn’t to say that he thought little of Owen’s taste but rather it made him more uncomfortable aware of the dichotomy between his expectations and reality.

“Noah!” He saw Owen waving at him from a booth in the back. Noah joined him, sliding to sit beside Owen as the latter made room for him. 

“Ehehe. Sorry about the late notice, but I was so excited! Plus, you gotta admit this place looks totally awesome!”

Owen was correct about that. As he was walking in, Noah took in the lavish and cozy interior design. And what was up with that aquarium tank towards the entrance? He had never seen fish quite that size before. He was pretty thankful that Owen managed to snag them a reservation. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gotten a table. 

Right as Noah was about to respond, a young woman approached their table. “Hi, gentlemen. My name is Chloe, and I’ll be your waitress this afternoon. Can I start you off with drinks?” 

He hadn’t thought of what to drink up until this point, but Noah knew the conversation was going to take a sharp turn when he noticed Chloe curiously staring at him. 

“Wait a minute. I know you. Aren’t you the guy who wrote The Longest Winter series?” 

Noah averted his gaze, feigning modesty in front of an adoring fan. “Haha, yep. That’s me, alright.” 

“Hey, uh, if it isn’t too much trouble, could I get an autograph? My sister and I are huge fans of your books.”

Noah chuckled, “Of course, sweetheart,” he paused, taking a moment to unfurl a napkin wrapped around a fork and knife on the table. He then grabbed a pen from his jacket pocket, “who should I make this out to?” 

“Chloe and Stacy,” the girl replied, stepping forward to take the engraved napkin from the author when he was finished writing, “oh my god, that’s so crazy that I ran into you at work of all places!”

“Uh-huh,” Noah began, trying to indicate that he was ready to move on from the conversation, “So for a drink, I just want a diet iced tea.”

“Yes, sorry! You’re right I completely forgot about the drinks..haha. Okay, diet iced tea. Got it. And for you, sir?” Chloe looked at Owen. 

“Oh, uh. Pepsi’s fine!” 

“Sure thing, I’ll be right back with those.” 

As the waitress receded into the background, Owen looked at Noah, impressed. “Wow, look at you,” he elbowed Noah playfully, “You sure have come a long way, haven’t ya?” 

Noah gently swatted at his larger friend’s arm. “Knock it off.” 

“Aw c’mon. It must be cool getting recognized everywhere. Yep. I remember those days…” 

Noah shrugged. “Honestly, it’s getting a little tiring,” he leaned against his seat, arms folded across his chest, “Being famous is too much work, and I can’t be bothered to give a shit sometimes.” 

Owen nodded, empathetic of his best friends’ words. “Yeah, but at least you probably get to meet all sorts of new people...Oh! And get free food from attending events.” 

“Yeah, that’s a nice perk. Honestly, Owen if you want to show up to these events for free food, just let me know, alright? I can get you in, no problems.” 

“Wait seriously?” Owen’s eyes glistened and he pulled Noah in for a giant bear hug. “Aww, you’re the best, buddy.” 

Noah struggled to breathe, but he was glad that Owen was happy. “Yeah,” he struggled, feebly raising his hand to pat Owen on the back, “anytime, big guy.” 

After they ate, the best friend duo parted ways. After all, Noah had to get back to writing. If he didn’t, his editor would be breathing down his neck for sure.

When his Uber arrived, Noah stepped in the car and made himself at ease in his seat. It had started to rain when he stepped outside the restaurant, and the last thing he wanted was to get himself and his expensive outfit wet. 

As the driver drove through the city, Noah glanced outside the window pane while occasionally looking down at his phone. Although most people walking outside donned the streets with their umbrellas, there were a few people who were walking with pep in their step to avoid getting soaked. Others didn’t seem to care and just walked on the sidewalk like they normally did. Noah found this amusing. Did it ever occur to some of them that they could actually check the weather before they started their day? 

As the rain grew heavier and people hurried indoors, the sidewalk grew progressively empty. That was when Noah noticed a young man who was (comically) drenched from head to toe. In the brief second he rode past him, Noah studied him as he did with most people who caught his interest. Caucasian male. Brown hair. Teal eyes. Probably around the same age as him…

...Suddenly, a memory jolted back into his conscious mind. A memory he thought he had forgotten.

“Hey, stop the car.” Noah leaned forward, placing his hand on the back of the driver’s seat. 

The driver looked at him through the rear view window, his eyebrow raised quizzically. “You sure, kid? We’re still a ways from your place.”

“Just stop the damn car, please.” 

The driver shrugged, pulling over. Noah stepped out of the car, almost immediately regretting his decision to stop. He jogged down the sidewalk, still in disbelief regarding his actions. When he spotted the stranger, he quickened his pace before stopping  a few feet behind him. 

“Cody?”

#total drama #td courtney #noco #td noah #td cody

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

summer sizzle | sweet - mjf [m]

[ prompts of choice ]

Honestly... I had a whole ass prompt set chosen for this but the need to write Maxwell as an actual fucking softie took over and I wound up not actually using ANY of the prompts I chose. So. Yeah. This is just an oc, softly getting railed by Maxwell.

[ pairing ]

Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Female!OC, Bianca. You will probably see more out of these two. I enjoyed writing this and maaaybe I’m tempted to do more with them as a result.

[ authors notes ]

I offer no apologies nor do I make any excuses. And the brunt of this was the result of a late night conversation between @unabashedwrestlefics​ and I last night. So. Yeah. Viv, if you’re reading, I love and blame you partly for this.

[ warning ]

Maxwell written as an actual sweetheart... provided that he actually gives a fuck about someone. Probably gonna piss a few people off but again, idec. I wanted this. I needed it. Smut. Not a condom to even be thought about. Body fluids. Biting. A little dirty talk, but mostly just teeth rotting filthy fluff.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee​

@rampagewriting​

@writertoo18​

@thatnerdwriter​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​

@unabashedwrestlefics​

@wardl0w​

@wrestlingthot​ 

@missjenniferb​

@adampage​

@cowboyshit​

@cabotcoves​ 

[ tag list doc - masterlist - about page ]

                             MJF & BIANCA, SOFT.

By the time Mox was pinning Maxwell for the 3 count, I was watching the match through my fingers, almost sick to my stomach and definitely dreading what the outcome of this match would most likely spell out.

If there was ever a night for the shoe to drop and the mask to come down, tonight was that night. 

I was so sure of it that as soon as Maxwell stepped through the curtains, dried blood caked on his forehead, I’d mentally prepared myself a thousand times over for the tongue lashing of the decade. My eyes darted around but I didn’t see any of the girls I’d gotten to know in my short time working with the company.

I took a deep breath and I tentatively made my way over to him, choosing to keep my mouth shut as I typically do around him. The tension was thicker. I could see the anger brewing in his eyes. I could feel the tension in his body as I wordlessly slipped one of his arms around my shoulders to keep him a little more steady.

“Where the fuck is he?” Maxwell’s anger laced outburst shattered through me being lost in survival mode and I gazed up at him, a brow raised. “Who?” I finally asked.

“Fucking Wardlow. He did that on purpose.” Maxwell scowled and his eyes darted around the crowded hallway, searching for a sign of Wardlow. 

As he did this, I took a shaky breath or two, preparing myself for what everyone’s been warning me about for weeks as far as he’s concerned.

Everyone’s so convinced that sooner or later, Maxwell is going to show me his nasty side and I am going to get hurt. I can’t count on both hands the number of times since creative stuck me as his valet upon arrival that I’ve had people pop up and offer condolence, -or protection, should the need arise. I guess I let that all get to me, because I’ve been living on pins and needles for weeks now and honestly?

Maxwell has literally never been anything like people claim he is towards me. I won’t say he’s been overly nice, because he’s just a naturally abrasive guy, but he hasn’t been the cold hearted bastard people write him off to be, either.

If anything, being his valet has been… well, it’s been strange. Because all this stuff people told me about him?

I’ve gotten the exact opposite, from him.

People told me he’d treat me like a toy. That he’d constantly tell me I was below him. That he’d probably wreck my self esteem. 

None of that’s happened.

Maxwell spotted Wardlow while I was lost in my own thoughts and fears and before I could stop him, he was shoving through the crowd, catching up to the other man, shoving at him. 

“Damn it.” I swore quietly to myself, pushing through the crowd gathered around them as they fought and trying to pull them apart. Every now and then I could hear bits of what was being said in between licks passed and shoves and punches, but it wasn’t enough to know exactly what had the two men fighting other than the fact that for whatever reason, Maxwell seemed convinced that Wardlow purposely cost him the title belt.

What got my attention was when my name came up. Maxwell seemed to be accusing Wardlow of something that had everything to do with me and Wardlow wasn’t bothering to deny it, either.

The whole thing was just… Too much for me, so I slipped away, hoping to just go somewhere quieter and pull myself together. As I rounded the corner, Mox stopped me, an arm beside my head as he stared down at me intently, this shit-eating smirk on his face that had his eyes dancing.

“What?”

“Better brace yourself, kitten. Gonna get the brunt of Maxy’s anger because Wardlow’s done with his shit.” Mox said it calmly, hoisting the belt over his shoulder as he continued to stare me down. I shrank back and bit my lip, trying to come up with any form of rebuttal.

Nothing came.

But it did leave me wondering. What if everyone was wrong about Maxwell? And I wasn’t stupid, I could look into Jon Moxley’s baby blue eyes and know that I was just another way to stick it to Maxwell and that just made me angry. So far, Maxwell had done literally none of the shit everyone kept accusing him of being capable of and literally every single guy back here? Turning out to be the ones who kept their truest selves hidden. Like Mox and his half-assed lazy little warning. Who the fuck did he think he was?

I stood taller, staring up at him in defiance. “So what? Is this you, offering to protect me? I hate to break it to you, Mox but… I don’t need or want your protection. I finish what I start, come whatever may.” 

Even with my voice wavering just a little as I spoke, I was still impressed with myself because it was more me, less this unsure and quiet little meek thing I’d allowed myself to become just to tread on eggshells and keep from making waves. I stepped beneath his arm and slunk through the doors leading out into the parking lot, letting the night air hit me and calm me down a little. I pulled myself up onto a brick half wall and sat there, staring up at the night sky as I tried to work through all this confusion in my mind right now. Trying to pick the best path of the two I was currently torn between.

Everybody kept at me about how ruthless and cold and unfeeling Maxwell was. And yet, he hadn’t ever come across as any of those things. But I kept circling back to everyone saying it. Everyone being convinced they were right and they knew exactly what was going to happen to me.

I even had one of the girls in hair and makeup suggest to me that he was dangerous because he knew exactly how to pour on the charm and make you fall for him, but when he was tired, he knew how to turn off that charm and leave you feeling like you were nothing, like you were lost without him.

If it wasn’t at least a little true, I reasoned with myself as I waited on him to walk out of the arena, then why did everyone keep saying it?

By the time I heard the door being thrown open and my name being called,I’d made up my mind… Just keep doing what I’ve been doing for weeks now. Prepare myself for the worst. Keep waiting it out, see what happened in that regard.

He was towering over me and I tore my gaze off the moon and stars above to meet his intent gaze, my eyes searching a little, waiting on Wardlow to pop up like usual.

“Wardlow’s taking his own fucking vehicle tonight.” Maxwell mumbled quietly, gazing at me a few seconds. I nodded and took a deep breath, standing. At this point, I was just tired. I wanted to get to the hotel, get to the privacy of my own room and think. To try to figure out all this internal conflict. To try to figure out why exactly, despite everyone’s repeated warnings over the past few weeks, I still couldn’t deny that for whatever reason, there was this magnetic pull to the guy - and what that said about me if the ride to the hotel went as bad as I was half afraid it would. 

Our bodies brushed together and I realized that yet again, we were migrating closer to each other. It happened a lot if I really stopped to think about it. It happened almost as much as the way he always seemed to be where I was. More than once I’d looked up to find him sort of staring at me. He’d always look away first, of course, but I couldn’t deny that I’d caught him looking on more than one occasion.

And then another thought hit me. I liked it. 

“We should get going.” Max’s quietly muttered statement shattered through the bit of an epiphany I was currently having and I glanced up, swallowing hard when I found him staring down at me with this look in his eyes.

“It was just a match. Just a leather strap.” I don’t know why I said it, but I felt like maybe he needed to hear it. I tensed a little in the seconds following because I was at least half sure that he’d explode.

Because yes, I was still waiting on the mask to be peeled away and Maxwell to show me this nastier side people seemed to keep reminding me he had. The side I’d seen come to the surface so easily with pretty much everyone else.

“I’m tired and it’s late.” he muttered quietly, his eyes still locked on me. When our bodies bumped against each other all over again, I bit my lip just to keep the unexpected quiet whimper that rose to my throat from coming out. When I couldn’t take the way the tension between us seemed to be growing heavier with each second that passed, making my breath catch in my throat, I spoke up quietly. 

“We should get going, Maxwell.”

I reluctantly stepped away a little, everyone’s repeated warnings about the man filling my head. The unease I’d been feeling earlier had lifted slightly and now I was just left with confusion. Tension. My own little pesky thoughts as of the last few minutes.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost swear he pouted slightly when I stepped away. I dug around in my pockets for the keys to his rental car and raised a hand, aiming the key fob in the general direction of the car, unlocking it and starting the engine. Then I turned to him and found myself on the receiving end of another one of those stares.

Which had me fidgeting more than a little, I could feel my thighs starting to slip off of each other. I reached out, prepared to take his gear bag, but he shook his head, slinging it over his shoulder as he fell into step beside me. For the entire walk across the lot, neither of us really said anything.

Like usual, he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. I scoffed at him and shook my head. I tensed in anticipation of a potential argument or him being nasty towards me, but I took a deep breath and eyed the passenger seat and then him as firm as I could.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive when you just went through that.” I muttered as calmly as I could, continuing to hold his gaze.

,, why do you even care?” the thought bubbled to the front of my mind and I shoved it out, choosing to ignore it until later. 

I needed to make it to the hotel. To the sanctuary of my own room so I could relax for the night. 

Rather than argue, Maxwell sank down into the passenger seat, his head leaning against the headrest, his eyes closing. For the entire ride to the hotel, neither of us really said anything. And the tension that seemed to linger between us almost constantly?

So much heavier.

Not necessarily in a bad way, either.

I pulled the car into the empty space in the third row and I killed the engine, sitting there for a second or two, sort of collecting myself. In that time, Maxwell had gotten out and grabbed not only his gear bag but my bag from the trunk. I was just trying to process. To figure out whether it was safe to relax a little or whether the shit storm was incoming. A gentle rap at the drivers window had me looking up just as Maxwell opened the door on my side, staring down at me.

He held out a hand and I eyed it briefly, letting my eyes dart upward only to be locked on his.  Naturally, he wasn’t bothering to say anything, instead, that cocky little smirk played at his lips.

He’s never very talkative with me. It’s weird, it’s almost as if he just doesn’t know what to do or say, so he does and says nothing. And yet, I found myself thinking, maybe that in itself says everything I need to know. My own gut feeling should’ve been enough for me to ignore everyone else’s warnings, but given that I’ve been burned two significant times in the past and whenever I’m around Maxwell, I always feel like I’m seconds away from letting my guard down. Which isn’t a bad thing but given what people keep telling me, I’m fully aware that it could backfire and be the thing that hurts me in the long run.

I don’t enjoy being a bundle of raw nerves around the guy. I want to be able to fully give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to relax. I’m just so afraid to do so until I can’t around him a lot of the time. 

I blew at the shaggy strands falling into my eyes and tentatively, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. He pulled me up and out of the car seat. He pulled me with such a force that our bodies collided and his arm shot out, wrapping around me, hauling me closer as he continued to just silently stare down at me. And if the look in his eyes was anything to go by and I were a lot more… Hopeful… I’d almost swear that he intentionally pulled me closer. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was staring at or why he was always doing it but I didn’t dare.

If I thought my thighs were slipping off of each other before, it was nothing compared to right now, the literal flood taking place in my panties at the look in his eyes. My breath caught a little in my throat and I managed a nod towards the hotel.

“Standing here isn’t getting us in.” Maxwell muttered the words quietly just as I was about to say them and I nodded in a daze, still trying to tear my eyes out of his. Neither of us had stepped away from the other. And that tension lingering between us?

Almost at a boiling point.

“It’s not.” I managed a quiet laugh as I finally tore my eyes off him and reached for my things. He shook his head. I didn’t want to argue, so I fell in step beside him quietly, the two of us body to body in the doorway leading into the hotel when he held the door open for me and I went to step inside at the same time as him. I gulped and found my eyes focusing on his mouth and despite all my best efforts, I stared for a good second or two.

From behind us, Jericho’s throat cleared and this only made me step closer to Maxwell and it hit me then.

I do that a lot. If someone comes up and I don’t feel comfortable? I find myself migrating closer to him.

I felt the warmth of his hand lingering at my lower back, fingers grazing right against bare skin and I felt a wave of heat  rushing to my cheeks. Normally, he just kind of puts his hand there.

“Are you two going to move or stand there all night?” Jericho’s voice broke through our moment and I glanced over Maxwell’s shoulder, scowling at the man. Maxwell’s hand left my back and he whirled around, squaring up almost, a quiet growl slipping out as every single part of him tensed up.

“Max.” I mumbled his name cautiously. I was still very much trying not to rile him up.

“Just a minute, Bianca.” Maxwell grumbled, his gaze fixed firmly on Jericho. I rolled my eyes and reached out, tapping at his shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back just to be safe.

“I think you should probably listen to your pretty little valet, Friedman. This is a fight you don’t wanna start. Take your bruised ego and move it out of my way.” Jericho smirked as he said it and I tensed up all over again. Maxwell’s gaze flitted back and forth between me and Jericho for seconds that felt like years, anger flashing in his eyes almost dangerously until they settled on me. He took a deep breath and shoved at Jericho a little, muttering quietly, “I didn’t say you could talk to her, did I?”

“Maxwell. For the love of ten thousand fucks, the line.” I stopped mid sentence, giving Jericho my best hateful glare when my eyes met his and I found him staring at me like I was a piece of meat. “Jericho, if you don’t want a stiletto to the eyeball, I’d suggest you stop looking at me in that tone.” I snapped, biting my lip as I was quick to pull my gaze off the old creep and fix it back on Maxwell, nodding to the reception desk. “Line. Now.”

With one last lingering angry glare, Maxwell turned away from Jericho and we started to walk towards the line, falling into the end of it. I shuffled my feet and when he chuckled quietly, I glanced up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Maxwell shook his head and went silent again. The line was getting shorter and I could feel myself relaxing a little more with each second that passed because it meant that I was closer to being in the sanctuary of my own room.

Where I could decompress, finally.

I had a lot to think about.

I took to scrolling through my Instagram account and a time or two, I felt his eyes on me. I rolled my eyes at the comments on a bikini pic I’d posted at a family barbecue the last time I’d been home and grumbled under my breath at an ex who’d slithered himself into my dms.

I felt Maxwell tense up beside me and after shoving my phone back into the pocket of my leopard print jacket, I glanced up at him, quickly looking away again when I saw the look in his eyes and I felt my cheeks starting to burn hot all over again. I shuffled my feet and squeezed my thighs together slightly but it didn’t help.

It was our turn at the check in desk now.

“A double?” the clerk flashed a smile at Maxwell and I. Honestly, I figured this would be the part where Maxwell made some cutting remark and demanded his own room, but to my surprise, he chuckled and dug into the sweats he was wearing to produce his wallet, passing it through the plastic barrier between our side of the desk and the other side.

I kept waiting on him to correct the assumption, but he never did. And for some reason, whenever I went to speak up and do so, my mouth refused to cooperate with my brain and make the words form. 

As soon as the paperwork was filed and the clerk was handing us back our identification and Maxwell his wallet, I found myself gazing up at him, puzzled.

He bit his lip and stared down at me intently. 

“That was okay, right?” he finally asked the question a good ten seconds later when we were standing in front of the elevator.

,, oh sure, sure. I’m fine, this is fine.” I thought to myself as the tension I thought I’d be getting rid of the second I was behind the doors of my own hotel room returned with a vengeance. Rather than argue, because I was still tiptoeing around him very much so at this point, I took a deep breath, gave him my best calm smirk and nodded.

Like a good girl.

Not rocking the boat, not making any waves.

But now, on top of everything else on my mind, I had yet another new thing to unravel… If everyone says he’s such a cold and heartless bastard, why in the hell would he take every opportunity he could get to be around me?

Because this has happened once before.

And yes, it was one hell of an intense weekend. I spent most of it down at the hotel pool or the hotel bar, just so I felt like I could breathe a little.

Because damn if being around the man almost constantly didn’t leave me breathless and so full of tension I thought I’d explode at any second.

The elevator doors slid open and I hurried on, leaning against the wall in the back. Maxwell stopped beside me, leaning in a little. “You know if you didn’t want to share a room, you could’ve said something.”

His voice was quiet, almost teasing. Almost as if he were amused by this. I’d been scrolling through my phone again and without looking up, I couldn’t, because God if I did, he was going to see the way my cheeks were burning bright red right now, I shrugged a little. “If I didn’t want to, you’d know it.”

The fact that when I said it it was 1000 percent true and I didn’t even realize it until I said it had my mind blown. 

“Interesting.” he mumbled, mostly to himself. I scrolled through my Instagram feed again, trying to focus on anything but the night ahead. Or the tension between us that was now so thick that I felt like at any second, either one of us was going to explode.

The elevator squeaked and slowed to a death crawl and at one point, it lurched just a little, sending me into Maxwell’s side as I tensed on impact. “What the actual fucking..” I whined a little, eyes widening in panic at just the thought of now being trapped on an elevator.

“It’s just an elevator.”

His voice was calming, his breath tickling the shell of my ear and serving to make me almost painfully aware of the fact that I was pressed completely into his side and he’d slipped an arm around me to keep me there. “I realize that, but I need you to understand it’s called claustrophobia, sir.” I muttered the words in a daze, my gaze settling on him. 

“That’s it. Keep lookin at me.” his voice was softer, an almost lazy drawl as he spoke. Neither one of us was making an effort to look away, god knows I tried. Somehow, just realizing that I’d fallen for the guy and people had warned me about him repeatedly just made me feel uneasy when he’d never shown me any actual reason to.

I gulped and nodded, my breathing syncing with his and I started to feel a little calmer. The elevator roared to life again and I relaxed a little, my shoulders slumping as I did so. 

“Thank fuck.” I muttered quietly, making him chuckle a little as he reached up and brushed some hair out of my eyes, smoothing it behind my ear, giving a satisfied nod as he did so.

It felt like an eternity between the elevator starting back up again and when we finally reached our floor, but the doors finally slid open and I hurried off, stopping to wait on him.

He caught up just as I found the door to our hotel room and started to dig around in my pockets for the keycard and he tapped my shoulder.

I whirled around so fast that I catapulted myself right against him and before I could stop myself, a quiet whimper slipped out of my mouth. My eyes lingered on his lips and I took a shaky breath before forcing myself to look up and lock eyes with him. He was already staring at me, hints of an amused gleam in his eyes as he licked his lips slowly.

If I thought I had my thighs clenched before, they clenched so tight this time that I felt a dull ache starting to build. 

“What?” my question came out quietly and he bit his lip and shook his head, again saying nothing. He took the keycard from my trembling hand and slid it through the card reader, pushing the door open as soon as the little light turned green and buzzed.

I stepped in, dropping my bags on the second bed and immediately shedding my shoes then flopping back first onto the bed, my eyes fluttering shut as I took a few seconds to attempt to decompress.

Tonight had been a lot. All I wanted was to try and fall asleep now that I was starting to realize that whatever explosion I’d been waiting on Maxwell to have apparently wasn’t coming.

Maxwell spoke up, shattering the silence in the room. 

“Are you always this tense? Or is it me?”

I rose up slightly, propping on my elbows and staring at him a few seconds, completely unsure of how best to answer. 

I felt really, really bad, because there was just something soft and quiet in his voice when he asked the question. And he wasn’t really looking at me, either, his gaze fixed intently on his hands instead. It was nothing like the strong and self assured guy the world saw on television. And if it hadn’t been for the weeks of literally everyone seeing fit to shove warning after warning about the guy down my throat constantly, I would’ve felt even worse.

I’d been tense, I’d been dancing and tiptoeing around him because I didn’t want to see that side of him. God knows I saw enough of that in an ex or two. I’d been holding my breath and waiting on him to be just like everyone said.. Or like those exes that I let my guard down for and I only ended up getting hurt by them.

As it all sank in, I shook my head, laughing at myself softly. If anything, this was not how I’d seen tonight turning out.

“ It’s not so much you as the shit everyone keeps saying. And the magnetic pull I keep trying to fight where you’re concerned...” I admitted quietly as I stood, starting to pace. Starting to ramble. Everything was spilling out of me because I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t keep going like this. “Everybody keeps telling me that you’re eventually gonna snap or worse, you’re gonna go cold towards me when the novelty of having a valet wears off and damn it, I just… I can’t deal with that happening. I’m afraid that you’re going to turn into my ex. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down, if I…”

He was watching me now and I could tell he was processing what I was saying. When I went quiet, he took a deep breath. “If you what?”

“If I let myself go ahead and fall for you, I’m only going to get burned all over again. And this time, it’ll be so much worse because this time, I’ll know it was the real thing and somehow, I wasn’t enough.”

 I sank back down on my bed and let out a ragged breath, raising my hand to my forehead as I gave a quiet laugh. “The funny part of all this is it’s too fucking late. I did anyway and I’m just so goddamn tired of fighting it. Of spending second after second reminding myself that everyone keeps telling me you will hurt me. You will turn some hidden nasty side, that people seem to think you possess, on me. And I’m realizing now that you’ve pretty much shown that side with other people. But never with me.” 

I kept my eyes closed as soon as I finished talking. Looking up at him was not an option, not for me, not at this particular moment. I kept waiting on laughter or some kind of cutting remark, the things I know he’s capable of and the things that I’m used to seeing from him with everybody else we know but nothing came.

He kept sitting there, silent and staring at his hands. Until he wasn’t. I sighed and stood, gathering my things to go and take a shower. Honestly, I thought that if I just got out of the room then maybe I could distance myself from the outburst I’d just had and the fact that his lack of a reaction did sting just a little. I thought that if I took a long and hot soak, I could get rid of some of this tension built up inside me.

I reached for the handle on the door to the on-suite bathroom and my breath caught in my throat, escaping in a quiet hiss as his chest pressed against my back and his hand covered mine over the handle. I turned around and my back connected with the door in a soft smack. For at least five seconds, all I could really do was stare up at him. He was staring right back, neither of us were saying anything. 

“So that’s it. You tell a guy you’re falling in love with him and then you go hide in the bathroom?” a teasing smirk played at his lips and I gulped as I felt his hips really press into mine, the handle of the bathroom door digging into my lower back softly. 

That didn’t last for long because while I was distracted by the way it felt to have that hard,muscular frame pressed so close to me and by the way I just wanted to raise to tiptoe and tug at his scarf to pull his mouth down to meet mine, I missed the way that his hand slipped between my lower back and the door. But as soon as I realized it, I whimpered quietly and despite trying desperately to control myself and keep at least a little bit of my guard up, I found myself pressing into him, our bodies rubbing together lightly. His other hand glided over my curves, going still at the hip as he dug fingertips into my skin lightly. 

When he exhaled, it was shakier. When I found myself rubbing against him all over again, he groaned quietly, his mouth opening and closing like he was just about to say something but he backed out at the last second.

Fitting, because I’d be damned if I knew what to say at the moment, all things considered. All I did know was that the urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe was doubling, no, tripling by the second and it was getting so that I was fidgeting a little in a last ditch attempt to keep from doing so on a whim.

One of us had to cave, to do or say something. I was determined that it wasn’t going to be me. Because every single time I’ve caved in the past, it hasn’t gone well for me. His forehead rested against mine gingerly and the hand on my hip raised, resting against the side of my face and he chuckled quietly.

“You realize if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have demanded you as my valet… Right? I had to do something, they were going to put you with Mox. One of those other assholes.” his mouth brushed right against mine as he went quiet and I didn’t think, I just reacted. My hand caught on the side of his face, steering his mouth right back against mine and my other hand caught in his hair, giving a little tug. He pulled back, staring at me a second or two and shook his head, raising a finger to my lip when I went to speak. “I don’t waste my time. When I want someone, I want them.” filled the silence and sent the last of the tension I felt scattering and he was pressing into me with more urgence now, his hand against the side of my face as he leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine, his body rubbing against mine and making me whimper into the kiss as his tongue pushed between my lips, parting the barrier they formed to tangle with mine.  

The kiss broke, and we pulled back from each other to breathe, Maxwell staring down at me with this wild fire burning in his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, the ragged rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took making it crystal clear that he was well past worked up if that weren’t already obvious to me before.

 His hands caught on either side of my face as his forehead settled against mine and he stared down into my eyes. If I thought either one of us had a chance to properly catch our breath I was wrong because just when I caught my breath, his lips latched onto my lower lip all over again, nipping hungrily. “I mean that.” he muttered in a harsh intake just before his tongue slipped between my lips all over again, “ I don’t say things I don’t mean.” 

I could feel his cock really starting to strain at the sweats he was wearing and I whimpered as he kept bucking himself against me and his mouth strayed from mine to wander right down the front of my throat. The hand resting against my cheek lowered to rest against the side of my neck, holding it still as the blunt of his teeth caught on my skin, littering it with little bite marks. “Fuck.” he breathed against my skin, the roughness of his lips and the warmth of his breath tickling the surface as he pressed me into the door even harder. “Do you not feel exactly what you’re doing to me right now, princess?” his hips snapped against me and I rubbed myself against the growing bulge strained at his sweats, my hand lowering and my fingers catching in the waistband. 

He sucked in a ragged breath and bit his lip, a shiver racing through his body when I stepped away from the door and completely against him. With each step I took forward, he inched closer to his bed until the backs of his knees brushed against the thick mattress and when that happened, he sank down to sit on the edge and I lowered myself, settling in his lap, taking his face in my hand as my lips latched onto his all over again and I started to rock myself back and forth over the bulge strained at his sweats until I heard him whimpering even more and I could feel him bucking up into me from below.

His hand slipped up the hem of the little black dress and settled palm down against my throbbing core as he started to rub my lace covered crotch. My head fell back slightly, giving him access to my neck. He took the opportunity to his advantage, pulling me in as close as he could get me, latching onto my skin almost needy when he did it. The whimper that left his mouth and dissolved against my skin sent a shiver racing through me and I rocked myself down harder against the hefty bulge, earning me a needy whine from him as his fingers dug into my hips and he pressed me down harder, took control of the movement of my hips. It sent that dull ache building between my thighs to an almost blind throbbing pain.

 His mouth trailed down my neck and one of his hands raised, the thin strap of the little black dress snapping under the weight of the tug from Maxwell’s fingertips and almost the instant the strap to my dress was no longer an issue, Maxwell was latching onto the neckline with his teeth, tugging it downward, revealing bare breasts. 

He backed away and took several shaky breaths, his eyes roaming slowly and that smirk on his face just before he lowered his head, resting his forehead against the tops of my breasts. I clung to him and gripped his shoulders tighter while baring down against his lap as soon as I felt the way his teeth softly grazed against exposed skin and it had me shivering and whining almost helplessly. 

I wanted his mouth on mine again. I needed him to kiss me. I reached down and tilted his chin, lust hazed brown eyes locking on mine as soon as we locked eyes and when I crashed my mouth against his, he deepened the kiss, bucking himself into me all over again from below. Harder.

One of his hands disappeared up the hem of my dress and I heard the quiet tear of fabric. Lace panties came away torn  in his hand and he growled against my mouth as soon as he felt how wet I was already. 

My hand slipped down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats all over again and I felt his abdomen tense as he took a deep breath and grabbed hold of my face, pulling my mouth against his all over again, greedily. His left hand lowered, disappearing beneath the dress, thick digits carefully working me open as his thumb struck against my clit, rubbing. “How’s that feel, hm?” the warmth of his breath against my skin as he mumbled against it had me whimpering and rocking myself against his fingers. 

“Mmf.. Ah..” I whimpered as the ache began to intensify and all I could do was keep on meeting the scissoring thrusts of the fingers buried deep inside my dripping pussy and hope that took away some of it. “Feels so.. Fuck!” I cried out as I felt his fingers strike against my spot, sending tension through my body just to try and keep my rapidly approaching orgasm at bay. He chuckled as his mouth found mine again, teeth digging into tender and kiss swollen lips. 

The more I moaned, the deeper inside me his fingers sank, stretching me out, the wet sounds making me both self conscious and almost a feral level of horny. It seemed to be doing the same for him because he growled against my skin as his mouth caught hold of my nipple, teeth latching on, his tongue dragging over the surface slowly until it stood erect, aching at the torture. 

“Max!” the moan that came out of me shattered through the soft silence, echoing, making his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as he continued to lick and suck my tits, bucking himself against me from below while his fingers pumped in and out of my dripping heat. “That’s it, princess. C’mon. You can get louder.” he muttered soft against my skin, raising goosebumps to the surface and making me whine and beg.

The more I whined and begged, the slower he seemed to go until I was shaking with each thrust of his fingers or slow drag of his tongue over my nipples. A glance down at my chest showed hickies littering every strip of skin he’d been able to get his mouth on and I bit my lip just to keep from screaming his name out loud, a needy moan escaping instead. “Maxwell, c’mon. I need you. Now.” I grabbed hold of his face again, my mouth diving down against his as I begged and kept rocking myself over the bulge strained at his sweats and against nimble and fast moving fingers as they fucked into me, striking against my spot and sending shivers dancing through my body.

I tried tugging at the waistband of his sweats again and this time, he obliged, drawing his fingers out of my cunt and lifting me a little, working the sweats down his hips and letting them pool at his feet on the floor of the hotel room. I whined as my eyes settled on his thick length, standing at attention and I swallowed hard. Maxwell pushed up the little black dress over my hips and then  lowered me down, his cock splitting me in two, stretching me out and filling me up. 

“You need me now, hm?” he questioned, his mouth crashing against mine needy, slow and deep. I got the sense that he needed to hear me say it. That he needed to hear me say everything I felt, actually. With a whimper as he started to fuck into me from below, slowly at first, I grabbed his face in my hands, pulling his mouth back against mine all over again, my lips crashing against his in the neediest kiss I could manage. “Feels so good. So good.” I encouraged, my hips rocking back and forth, making him dig his fingertips into my bare ass, squeezing harder with each deep drive into my pussy. 

My head fell back as I rode him faster and he raised a hand, tangling it in my hair, pulling my mouth against his, our teeth scraping and bumping together as his tongue rushed past my parted lips and tangled with mine. My legs circled his waist and the new angle had his hips stammering as he slowed down, pressing hot little kisses and nips against my face and throat, his forehead against mine and our faces so close that whenever he quietly muttered “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.” and gave a quiet chuckle, his lips brushed against mine and I whimpered, rocking my hips against his shaky thrust and responded quietly, “Why?”

“Because you got to me and that literally never happens. And now I have you and I…” he trailed off and although I wanted to push for him to say more, I got the feeling that it was hard for him. 

To my surprise, after a few gentle biting kisses trailing down the side of my neck and across the tops of my breasts, he raised his head and met my gaze again, capturing my mouth in a deep and needy kiss as he groaned out, “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep from losing you. You have me.” he emphasized his words with an even deeper drive into my dripping cunt, immediately bottoming out and pushing me even closer to an orgasm that I was only barely holding back from having, his hips snapping upward, his cock striking my g-spot over and over as he bottomed out and his hands roamed all over my body gently cupping and squeezing, touching me anywhere he could get his hands on me. 

“Ah fuck! Bianca.”  Maxwell’s growled words echoed off the walls and he pulled me against him tighter, his mouth latching onto mine in a deep and needy, bruising kiss. My lips were aching and swollen now, I could feel it. “Maxwell, please. I’m so close.” I whimpered, tears starting to sting at my eyes because I simply couldn’t hold off anymore.

“C’mon, princess. Use me. Get off.” Maxwell’s head fell back as he continued to slam into me from below, his fingers digging into my asscheeks deeper, squeezing. “Can’t wait to feel you get my cock wet, baby.” his words were a quiet groan against the shell of my ear, his heavy breathing merging with mine as I started to bounce myself up and down on his cock faster. Deeper. He met each bounce eagerly. 

My orgasm shattered through me, leaving me shaky and light-headed but Maxwell kept pumping me up and down on his cock, determined to fuck me right through it and nearly into another one because it all felt so good. Too good. Too much. I almost couldn’t think straight. I latched my lips onto his neck and he groaned quietly, his hips stammering as he slowed down a little and tilted my chin so that i had to look him in the eye, pulling my mouth against his all over again in a lingering and tender kiss as he muttered lazily against my lips that he was getting close and he didn’t want to stop. I gave a helpless and needy whine, nodding my head, begging him not to stop, my pussy still tightly clenched around his cock. “So close, ah.. Fuck. Are you ready, princess?”

“Please?” I begged in a breathy moan, clinging to him as dots danced in front of my eyes and I tried and failed a time or two at actually catching my breath and calming down. I could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth of his seed settling inside, coating me as the excess slowly leaked out. He fell back against the bed and pulled me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me tight as he buried his nose in the crown of my hair, taking a few long and deep breaths, his cock still buried inside me as we lie there. 

“I don’t want to move.” he mumbled quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Just wanna stay exactly like this.” 

“Me either.” I yawned lazily, my lips pressing against the side of his neck.  I rose up a little to stare down at him and he leaned into my face, his lips feathering against mine as he muttered quietly, “You know I meant all of it… Right?”

I nodded, giving a soft smile as I deepened the kiss. “You don’t say things you don’t mean, remember?” 

He chuckled quietly, pulling me back down against him, his hand smoothing over my back, toying with my hair.

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