#now i hate posting videos this short it seems so lame but this is for the anon who asked for bugs

[crystalelemental]

Zinfogel just recently posted a showcase of Variety Lance (he said Variety Lance is extremely good for Clair) and Variety Agatha, including his thoughts about Masters nowadays and Variety Scouts. I wanna know what you think about it.

Goddammit Zinfogel, this couldn't wait until tomorrow? I'm trying to save gems over here.

Oh wow, nevermind, that's depressing. The video itself is short, and having run Clair constantly, I'm content with her ability to off-type with just SS Kris/Lucas, Lance isn't necessary. Moreover, his discussing is exactly correct. Variety scouts are a known scam, they're far lower effort, and it seems wholly unnecessary in the era of 5/5. I actually agree with the 5/5, there's something to that. Not always, but it's a nice boost for older pairs, and brings in incentive for long-time players to try again for old favorites. The Variety thing is...odd. The Eevees all being copies of one another, Bruno and Lorelei being virtually identical pairs, they're just not doing much that's interesting. And we're in this odd space of a lot doing the same jobs as always, unless they're Master Fair, which the rats set the tempo at "unspeakably broken for the game we're in, to the point they're not fun to use."

I agree with him that the game is flatlining. I think the problem is an over-emphasis on too much at once. There are just too many sync pairs being thrown in each month, with like a whopping six in most situations. It's a lot of focus on developing the kit and the grid and doing something new without being broken, and it comes at the cost of everything else.

That said, one thing I will argue is the irrelevance of sync move animation. Bro, I'm sorry, but you watch those one (1) time and then skip forever to get back to the action. Even in showcases, that's how it's done. From a design perspective, why would you shell out the money for those animations that literally no one watches? That's not the problem. The problem is really more in the lack of unique designs, the unnecessary "limited" gimmick, and that the game hasn't done anything too novel in a while. I think it's at least trying with the rebuffs, but it's just not enough to be interesting when Zones are better.

And to argue with myself, I realize six sync pairs is a lot in a month, but also that if we didn't get that, a lot of characters just wouldn't get anything. The Variety scouts are a lame cash grab, but in the case of Lorelei, it was a lame cash grab for a sync pair I kinda like, that definitely wouldn't exist otherwise. So it's this awful space of recognizing yeah, this sucks, the game shouldn't be this way, but also if it wasn't it's not like all our dreams would come true either. There's a healthy middle ground between the two somewhere, but I don't think DeNA has a reason to pursue it.

The last thing I'll say, and I hate saying it but it's what happens to me...I wonder if Zinfogel isn't just burning out of the game. Doing the same things for so long wears on you regardless of enjoyment, and maybe he's just hitting that wall. There are times I feel like I'm hitting it. And to be frank, the explanation of "I gave in to my impulses" occurring multiple times in the last two months between variety and SC and tapu? From experience, that's the feeling of chasing a feeling no longer there. That's when you step back and make sure addiction isn't creeping in, because now you're pulling stuff you weren't that excited about to hope it's more fun than you thought. The insidious thing is sometimes it works. Sometimes you get SC Zinnia. Other times, you get Palentine's Mallow. It's unreliable and a bad habit to form. So I dunno. I'm kinda worried about him, honestly.

#books-are-my-life-stuff

[soul-dwelling]

I think ironically the best execution of the "doppelganger" idea was not in FF but the first Clown in the factory in SE - it was creepy, original, stylish and in a way meaningful. Sadly the later clowns just got more and more lame and felt just as generic bad guy filler villians (Think Justins clown and Medusas little Purple one were still kinda cool, guess video-gamey anime powerups are a guilty pleasure😂🤷🏿‍♂️)

…Oh, wow, that is a good point: we have Clown Maka right here as the similar-but-different-enough version of our main Maka. 

(I’m not going to use that L-word, given the disablism inherent to it.) 

Let me talk about the later clowns first, because what I have to say about Clown Maka and the Fire Force doppelgangers is going to take a lot of time. 

Ohkubo has shown before he can make even minor villains have eye-catching designs, compelling personalities, and a memorable presence and impact on the story. You point out that you like video game power-ups, similar to Justin’s clown and Medusa’s little one. Think about even the minor antagonists you fight in boss battles in the Soul Eater video game Monotone Princess, where Kill Bell and others still have eye-catching designs, compelling (if simple) personalities (“simple” as these are mini-bosses, not the main adversaries), and a memorable presence (because they need to be a memorable fight) and an impact on the story (because it builds up to facing off against Ponera and Grimoire later). 

The clowns, then, should have that kind of approach: eye-catching designs, compelling personalities, and a memorable presence and impact. But those clowns on the Moon in the final arc just didn’t. I work with my friend on revising these original tales for fanfics--and just now I had to check over notes and the Soul Eater Wiki to remember who Kaguya, White Rabbit, and Moonlight are. The three had memorable designs, but Kaguya was about the only one with any personality (and not a memorable or engaging one at that), and their presence was just to be antagonists. At least when My Hero Academia tried this boss battle approach in the Shie Hassaikai arc, you had characters who either helped define our protagonists (Rappa helped define Eijiro), helped define each other (Tengai defines Rappa, Chronostasis defines Overhaul), or defined antagonists (Mimic’s short temper defines how smart Toga and Twice are despite their initial goofiness). But what was gained in Soul Eater? What did we learn from seeing Kid, Stein, Marie, and others against the Moon Clowns? None of them seemed to gain new character dimensions. 

As for Clown Maka: I don’t think that arc quite did a good enough job at establishing why the Clown Maka is important. Granted, moments of making Maka feel self-doubt, while welcome, can feel tacked on or not as impactful as they could be: see how abrupt it is to have Maka jealous over Soul’s stalker and her own feelings that she is not worthy to wield his Death Scythe form. But the Clown Maka story was enough to introduce her own self-doubts, and it had enough “magic” to have it make sense (“the Madness just makes you feel bad and not in a sound mind,” that’s enough justification). So, yeah, it’s meaningful. 

The more I re-read the doppelgangers in Fire Force, they seem to exist as Ohkubo’s soapboxes against the audience. “Oh, people hate on how I write Tamaki--so I’ll have Doppel!Assault call her a whore and make it seem like any readers criticizing my writing are just prudes and SWERFs and the real bad guys.” “Oh, people think I under-wrote Benimaru and Kurono and didn’t plumb their depths of character complexity, or vastly misinterpret who those characters are--I’ll just make the Doppels of Benimaru and Kurono into exaggerated walking caricatures.” 

It ends up robbing any meaning from what we should get from other doppelgangers. As I say in another post, we needed Mari to be something more as a character so that the Evangelist’s flaws are emphasized. We abruptly wrap up Iris being a doppelganger to give Amaterasu a far-too-late redemption moment before we even really made Amaterasu much of a character when she was pretty much just a plot device or just an opposing force of nature. The doppelgangers of Burns and Konro are just here to show how much more powerful Burns and Konro are. Hibana’s doppelganger…existed, I don’t know why (or was that just Jonah in disguise?). Akitaru’s doppelganger disappears right after killing Akitaru, just here for a jump scare--which would be fine if we had just a hint of characterization to again show how that doppel is not who Akitaru is. 

The problem with the doppelgangers, as I talk about in the other post regarding Mari being the doppelganger of the Evangelist, is that the story could have taken a simpler approach--just make the doppelganger the opposite of the character, to characterize the character by negatives, by showing us all that they are not--and instead took a more complex approach that, while ambitious, did not work. The more ambitious, complex approach was that the doppelgangers are who the world imagines that person to be…but that didn’t work, for two reasons. 

The first reason is lore: we were told someone gains pyrokinetic abilities without becoming an Infernal if that person and their doppelganger merge and if that person and their doppelganger are exactly the same--that who they really are, and how the world sees them, are perfectly the same. By that argument, Shinra, Arthur, Tamaki, Maki, Takehisa, Hibana, Benimaru, Kurono, and so on are exactly the same as who they are and how the world sees them…but that’s not true. No person is exactly how the world sees them. That’s not even getting into how you are not the same person in all contexts and settings, around all the same people, around your family as you would be around your friends. Shinra is seen as a killer; he is not. Tamaki is seen as a flirt, a whore, someone trying to get into people’s pants and expose herself in public: she is none of those things, she’s not even interested in dating, the entire point of her final arc is her refusal to embrace that “symbol of life / symbol of fanservice” shit. And on and on. I know this gets swept under the rug later as “well, the physics of the world are changing so much, so that rule about doppelgangers and gaining pyrokinetic abilities no longer matters, hence how Benimaru can still have his doppel show up even though he should already be merged with his own in order to have pyrokinetic abilities,” but that rule change doesn’t negate what I just pointed out about Shinra and Tamaki and so on. 

The second reason is thematics: what is learned about this? At least if a doppel is your opposite, you are characterizing your character by contrasting them with the person they are not. But when you take the approach Fire Force does, where a doppel is how the world sees you, what is gained? This was a missed opportunity. Maki could have faced a doppel to really emphasize that, while people see her a cute daddy’s girl and someone in love with love and someone they would like to date, they are ignoring that, even if she is daddy’s girl and in love with love, she is also a passionate fighter who will protect her friends and is willing to beat the shit out of someone. Hibana put up a front that she hates the past, hates the world, hates her sister, just wants to make money and advance science--but that is not all she is, and we don’t see her fight a doppel who is a caricature of all of those traits, or, better yet, confront a doppel who actually is more like her real self, who is someone who is traumatized, who wants to enjoy the beauty of nature and the world, who loves Iris, who would love to get back to her faith and her family but instead fills that void with work and inhuman experiments. It feels like a failure of the theme. 

#long post #fire force spoiler #fire force spoilers #dwells whines about fire force

[manicdean]

Taang Week Day 2: Modern AU

“Thursday, never looking back,”

[ @taangweek​ Day 2: Modern AU

After only two weeks of spring semester, Aang is fed up and ready to drop his geology class.]

A/N: i wanna redo this and make it better and i really struggled with the world-building here ngl so I couldn’t really come up with good names for the buildings or profs.  what can you do¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Inspired by tumblr user @rllyjohnrlly’s modern au, specifically this post.

Read on AO3

***

Science, as Aang was learning, was absolutely not what he had thought it would be.  When he was still in high school, he excitedly declared a zoology major on all of his college applications, thinking he would turn his love for animals into a lifelong career.

All it took was his first college-level biology class to quickly bury that idea.  Between that and chemistry for non-majors, he felt resigned to the idea that all science classes were a bad idea for him, and that he’d better just pick the easiest one in the catalog to round out his general requirements.  Which is how he found himself enrolled in the Introduction to Geology class his freshman spring semester.  He’d learned the three types of rocks and the basics in high school, how hard could it be?

(the answer was very hard)

(but slightly less hard than biology)

After the second week of class, he sat on the floor of Katara’s dorm, textbook draped across his lap as she sat at her desk, diligently working on her homework.  She really excelled at the very classes that almost killed him and he admired that about her.

“Ugh!” Aang groaned, slamming his textbook shut and throwing his head back onto her bed.   “Katara, this is awful.” 

She set her pen down and shifted in her chair to face him, the look on her face one of confusion and concern.  “What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t do this!  I hate this class,” he replied, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Aang, what are you talking about?  You can’t hate a class already, we’re only two weeks into the semester!  What could possibly be so bad about it now?” Katara asked, getting up from her chair and walking over to sit across from him.

He sighed and let his hands fall back into his lap.   He rolled his head to look at her.  “Because it’s awful!  I knew it probably wouldn’t be much fun, but I thought at least it would be pretty easy.  And it’s not!  It’s so hard and so boring and the professor is the most lame professor I have ever met.” 

(she couldn’t help but smirk at that)

“Okay, well, you’re not going to find a class that’s easy, especially in your weakest subject.  It’s just not going to happen.  Maybe it’ll get more interesting after the first few chapters.  Those are always just introductory anyway, they’re way more boring than the rest of the class.” She could see he wasn’t convinced and added, “The drop period was over Friday, anyway, so if you’re going to take a withdrawal, you might as well wait until after the first test.  Maybe it won’t be as hard as you’re expecting.” 

Aang sighed.  She was right.  He hated when she was right.  “Fine.  I’ll stick it out through the first test, but can we please take a study break now?”

***

Thursday morning, Aang walked into the lecture hall, trying his best not to drag his feet.  It took all of his determination that morning to make his way to class instead of staying holed up in his dorm, playing video games until he got hungry.  But he’d promised Katara and he knew he would get an earful if he broke his promise.  Maybe if he just pretended he was Katara for a period, he’d have more ease with the class.  Katara wouldn’t sit in the back, as was his first impulse, she would sit in the very first row.

He compromised and sat about four rows back.  Earbud in one ear, he set his notebook on the table and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the texts from his friends that he’d missed on his walk.  He didn’t notice when a dark-haired girl sat in the seat next to him until she tapped on his notebook.  Startled, he yanked out the earbud and looked at her.  “Um, hello?”

The girl looked at him 

(he couldn’t help but notice how pale her eyes were and the weird quality to her gaze that he couldn’t pinpoint)

and said, “You normally sit all the way in the back.  What are you doing up here now?  We haven’t even had a test.  Did you get in trouble or something?” 

His cheeks felt warm and he knew he was blushing.  “No, I just felt like maybe I’d learn better closer to the front.  This stuff has been kind of hard for me so far, I guess.” 

The look on her face was a little unsettling, like she was staring straight through him.  She finally shrugged, turning away from him.  “What’s so hard about geology?”

“I don’t know.   I guess science classes just don’t come very easily to me.”

“Well lucky for you, geology is, like, as easy as they get,” she said.  He didn’t feel especially reassured, but smiled a little anyway.

“So what you’re saying is you’ll help me study?”  Aang asked sheepishly.

She snorted, but replied, “Maybe I will.  What’s your major, anyway?”  

“Oh, um,” he stuttered, feeling the redness in his face deepening and rubbing his neck in embarrassment.  “I was a zoology major, but right now I’m undeclared.” He wanted to ask her the same question, wanted suddenly to know everything about this brazen, somewhat guarded girl who had sat next to him (and had noticed that it was not his normal seat), but was cut off by the professor calling the class’s attention to the lectern.

***

Seventy-five painstaking minutes of trying

(and failing) 

to pay attention to the powerpoint in front of him instead of the dark-haired girl leaned back in the seat next to him later, the class was dismissed.  The girl had stood, grabbing her bag, and Aang panicked for a moment, trying to think of something to say.  He finally settled on asking if he could walk her to her next class.

She paused, turning her head towards him.  “Well, it’s all the way over in the Humanities building.”

“That’s okay, that’s on the way to my dorm, and I don’t have another class for an hour, anyway.” He swore he saw her smile as she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.  You can walk with me.” 

They talked the whole way there, never seeming to run out of topics.  He was disappointed at how short the walk felt, having so much more to ask her.  He’d found out she was an architecture major with a lifelong special interest in geology, lived in the freshman dorms by the Physical Sciences lecture hall, and that despite being blind, she was as in-tune with her surroundings as anyone.  It was only after they said their goodbyes that he realized he’d never learned her name.

***

Her name, as it turned out, was Toph.

Every Tuesday and Thursday over the next three weeks, they sat next to each other and Aang walked her to her next class.  He actually found motivation to study his notes for the first time, if only for the fact that the recordings she shared with him featured their conversations in the background of the lecture.  

Once, he had been running late after sleeping through his alarms, and while his first impulse had been to go back to sleep and skip his first class of the day, he bolted out of bed and rushed to get dressed, worrying that someone would take his seat next to Toph.

(or worse, she wouldn’t even notice)

He nearly ran all the way across campus.  Heart pounding, he snuck through the doorway as the professor lectured on and slipped into his usual seat next to Toph.  She lifted her head; something he couldn’t quite place flashed over her face.

(relief?)

“Finally decided to show up, huh?” she whispered.

He started to explain himself, but stopped short, deciding on a better way to embarrass himself.  “Yeah.  I got caught up trying to figure out why you’re so good at this class.” 

“Did you figure it out?” 

“It’s because you don’t take anything for granite.”  He looked over to catch the way the corner of her lips tugged upwards through the taken-aback look on her face.

“That was awful.  Don’t do that again,” she hissed at him.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, chuckling to himself.  “You know what I would’ve been if I hadn’t shown up today?” 

“What’s that?”

“A skipping stone.” 

The irritated expression she wore intensified, fending off the smile he so desperately wanted to see.  “Seriously, you have got to stop doing that.  I don’t like puns, especially when they’re that bad.” 

“My sediments exactly.”  He almost expected her to hit him, but was delighted to hear a giggle escape.  A warm feeling spread through his chest and he knew then that he would spend every last moment he had for the rest of her life trying to make her laugh again.

***

“You guys!” Aang exclaimed, slamming the door to Sokka’s apartment closed a little harder than he had meant to.  He continued into the living room, all but throwing himself onto the couch next to Katara without so much as a “hello” to her, Sokka, or Suki.  “I had the most amazing date today.” 

Sokka looked up from where he sat, getting his hair braided, between Suki’s legs.  “You had a date?  With who?” 

“Was it that girl from your geology class?” Katara asked. 

“Yes!  Her name is Toph and I finally got her number and we’ve been talking, like, non-stop,” he blurted all at once.

“Slow down!” Katara giggled.  “Are you going to tell us about the date?” 

“Right, so I’ve sat next to her in geology since I’ve been wanting to do better in that class.  That’s been a bad idea as far as paying more attention, but spirits, it’s been the best.  I was almost late this morning because I slept through my alarms.”  Seeing the admonishing look on Katara’s face, he added, “I actually got up as soon as I realized and went to class, don’t worry, Momtara.  Anyway, I got to class just as the prof was starting the powerpoint, and when I first walked in, I was worried someone else might have taken the seat next to her that I’ve been sitting in, but no one had.  And she actually seemed like she was looking for me.  I mean, she can’t see, but still, when I finally got there and sat down, I swear it looked like she was happy to see me.” 

Not leaving room for Sokka to make a disparaging joke, Aang recounted the jokes he’d told her,

(which he definitely stayed up several nights in a row to come up with) 

how she’d acted like she’d hated them, but he’d caught her snickering a few times.  

“So you asked her out after class?” Suki asked.

Aang blushed and ran a hand through his short hair.  “Not exactly.”  He held up his hands in protest of his friends’ exclamations.  “I always walk her to her next class because it’s on the way to my dorm and I always want to keep talking to her.  Well, we get all the way to the Humanities building and she looks at me and says, ‘I don’t really feel like going to this class today.’” 

“She skipped class?” Suki asked with a mock-scandalous tone.  “Maybe you two are meant for each other.” 

“I know!” Aang said, ignoring the jab entirely.  “And, Katara, don’t give me that look.  I would have convinced her to go to class, but the opportunity was there and I couldn’t pass up taking her to lunch.” Grinning, he told them about how Toph had loosened up while they ate, even agreeing to try his favorite vegan restaurant in the main commons, how cute she was when she smiled at him.  She had even agreed to a study date the following night.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face when he asked, “So would you guys be okay if she came to hang out with us this weekend?” 

#ok sorry im on mobile the read more broke #taang #atla #taang week #taangweek #taang week 2020 #my fics

[waitimcomingtoo]

I Keep On Missing You - Tom

First Part

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Authors note: The songs didn’t come out in that order in real life by any means.

Masterlist

Tom tracked your relationship with Brad with The Vamps music. Every time he heard Brads voice on the radio, he gave it a good old fashioned rage-listen.

“Oh how I wish that you could say you feel the same way.” Brad sang and Tom groaned loudly.

“She doesn’t!” He huffed and quickly changed the channel.

“I’d risk it all. I’d rather crash, I’d rather crawl than never have your love at all. With only bricks to break my fall, I’d risk it all.” Came on another time.

“Shut up!” Tom shrieked.

“We will dream a dream for us that no one else can touch. My dear, I’m here, so wake up.” Brad seemed to follow him wherever he went.

“Go back to sleep, and starve!” Tom grumbled. 

Despite his hatred towards them, all those songs told Tom you guys were in the talking stage.

High Hopes came out a few weeks later and told Tom you were together. Lyrics like “I could move in with you and we could get married too.” cut Tom like a knife. He winced every time it played on the radio.

Worry told Tom you and Brad were fighting and falling apart, and he tended to leave that song on a little longer.

Finally, Million Words. A breakup song.

Tom wasn’t very experienced in love, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t gonna be that guy that tried to win a girl back right after a breakup. He gave you space but when he refreshed your Instagram one day and saw all traces of Brad had been deleted, he decided to reach out.

“Hey.” He wrote.

“hi.” You answered a few seconds later.

“How are you doing?” He sent.

“so you heard?” You replied and Tom let out a little laugh.

“Everyone hears everything in Hollywood, but that’s not what I’m here for.” He wrote.

“then what are you here for?” You wrote back.

“You. I’m here for you.” Tom sent.

“That was lame.” You replied after a minute, and Tom blew breath out of his nostrils.

“If I recall correctly, my lameness was one of the things you loved about me.” Tom messaged. He waited anxiously for a response.

“ew why’d you put “love” in past tense?” You finally answered, and Toms heart skipped a beat.

“Idk we’re broken up I didn’t want to assume.” He texted back.

“never mind. forget I said anything.” you sent.

“Okay. How are you feeling?” He asked.

“better. brad and I have been broken up five months now so I’ve healed.” You replied and Tom smiled to himself.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Tom sent, then typed out “I miss you”, but he deleted it.

“i’m kinda glad you reached out. i miss you.” You went and Tom nearly threw his phone.

“You do?” He asked.

“we were best friends before we started dating and I thought we always would be. it’s been super weird without you this past year.” You sent. Tom didn’t know how to respond. His thumbs danced over his keyboard until you sent a follow up text. “i don’t like it.”

“Tom, you’re wanted on set.” Someone knocked are his trailer door.

“Listen, I’m on set right now and gotta go but I’m gonna text you later okay?” He sent. “I want to finish this conversation.

“okay” you wrote back, and Tom smiled.

“And btw, I’ve hated every second we’ve been apart.” He sent quickly and left to go on set.

Later that night, Tom got a text.

“are you there?” You sent.

“Always.” He replied.

“can you come over?” You asked, and Tom looked up to Heaven with a smile.

“I’ll be there in ten :)” He sent and quickly put on his shoes. He pulled into your driveway in no time and walked into your house with his spare key.

“Hey.” You came out of the living room in sleep shorts and an old T-shirt. You looked timid and a little worn down.

“Hey.” Tom said back and gave you a gentle smile, which you returned.

“How have you been?” You asked as you took a step closer to him. You rubbed your arms from the cold and Tom wished he was still the one who warmed you up.

“Do you want an honest answer?” Tom laughed halfheartedly.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Terrible.” He said, and heard you sigh.

“Why?” You asked lamely. You knew why.

“Because I just had to drive ten minutes to see the love of my life when I used to be able to roll over and see her asleep next to me.” Tom shrugged sadly. He looked small all of the sudden, and your heart began to break as tears stung your eyes.

“What happened to us?” You croaked.

“He did, love.” Tom whispered.

“He didn’t do anything to us. He just magnified problems we were already having.” You said and Tom knew you were right.

“I shouldn’t have gotten jealous or tried to control you. That’s toxic behavior and I know that now. I have no excuse for it.” Tom apologized for the first time and a weight came off his shoulders. All his guilt was coming to light.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You agreed. But I should have talked to you first before making plans with Brad. I knew it made you uncomfortable but I did it anyway, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry too.” Tom sniffled.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked.

“I just want you to come home.” Tom pleaded.

And so you did.

But the songs didn’t stop after you got back with Tom.

The Vamps released Same To You a week after you posted a picture of Tom kissing your cheek on your Instagram, a song asking if the love from your new boyfriend felt the same to you as Brads love did.

The Missing You EP was full of songs about losing your girlfriend and regretting it, making Tom wonder what actually happened between you and Brad. Lyrics like “maybe I should’ve loved harder, checked if you were all right” and “I’m a fool. I let you down, I messed around, I made waves. I’m ashamed.” made it seem like Brad seriously messed up and broke your heart. As much as he wanted to know, he didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t his place. He didn’t need to know how Brad Simpson had broken your heart.

Then, Stay dropped.

It was another song about begging a certain someone to come back and how sorry he was for his mistakes. Tom couldn’t help but notice how longingly you looked at the radio when it played and wondered if Brads songs were the only apology he’d ever given you. Tom felt his chest tighten at the lyrics, “darling, won’t you stay here? I promise I can change” ,and wondered if you had told Brad about the fight you’d had with Tom in the dressing room of the Graham Norton show all those months ago.

Tom never thought too deeply into the song until he saw his name and Brads name in a headline on Clevver News. A picture of you and Tom was in the thumbnail, as well as a picture of you and Brad. He looked around to see if you could hear and clicked the video.

“Watch Brad Simpson change the lyrics to “Stay” to diss Tom Holland in an attempt to win back Y/n L/N.” A perky “news” reporter said at the start of the video. Tom bounced his leg as the video played. He saw a sweaty Brad sitting on a stool with his guitar in his arms.

“And darling if you stay here, it won’t be a mistake. We can hide under the duvet, and Tom will have to wait.” Brad sang and let out a laugh. The audience laughed as well and Brad kept singing.

“Now, if you didn’t catch it, Brad clearly said “Tom will have to wait” instead of “time will have to wait”. Fans were quick to notice this little dig at Tom Holland while other fans denied Brad saying it. What do you think? “Did Brad change the words? Is he still trying to win Y/n back?” The news reported asked. Tom junked when he heard you enter the room.

“What are you watching?” You wrapped your arms around Toms neck from behind and kissed his cheek.

“He’s still singing about you.” Tom grumbled as you rubbed his shoulders, showing you the headline on his phone.

“Let him sing.” You shrugged as you sat in Toms lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Tag List 🏷

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[louiserandom]

Play Games with Me

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E

A/N: Commission for the amazing @rookie-d​💙💗 thank you so much! *hugs* 

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header!

Tobirama SenJERK has never had sex in his life, Madara types, as always brimming with spite when it comes to his least favorite person in town. Maybe on the planet.

Rereading the comment and satisfied that there aren’t any typos or any hint whatsoever at some kind of hidden affection (which isn’t there, never was and never will be, Madara reminds himself firmly), he hits ‘Comment.’

“Take that, you dumbass,” Madara mutters under his breath, and really, this could be classified as childish, were he not completely in the right to take vicious revenge upon the fucking asshole who dared refer to Madara as ‘so idiotic it’s pitifully adorable’ on his last stream. Hah! Like Tobirama isn’t the less intelligent one of the two of them; Madara has watched enough of his Uncharted 4 gameplay to note that Tobirama took twelve seconds longer than him to figure out arguably the most difficult puzzle in the game. And although Madara’s sub count doesn’t quite reflect his superior intellect compared to Senju’sーnot that he’s checked in a whileーit’s likely a testament to the viewers’ total lack of taste, if anything else.

(Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty four viewer’s, to be precise, according to this morning’s stats and minus the handful of Madara’s fake accounts that he created just in case to keep up with his chief competitor. Admittedly, it might be a tad annoying.)

A notification pipes up.

Hm, I wonder how you’d know that, MaddyGamerboy? Are you stalking me? I must admit, I’m flattered.

Madara sputters at the reply. At yet another butchering of his perfectly adequate nickname. The fucking nerve of the guyーand people fucking wonder why Madara hates his guts?

(Madara knows it doesn’t really help his case that he’s touched himself to fantasies of the younger Senju more times than he’d care to count, but hate-fucking a thing isn’t it? Hate-masturbation must be too, he supposes. Not the healthiest outlet for negative feelings, but it makes him feel good enough.)

(Heavenly, to be precise.)

I AM NOT, YOU SELF-OBSESSED DUMBASS, Madara types, simultaneously taking care of the half-a-dozen typos that appear of their own accord.

No.

Deep breath. Stop fingers from shaking. Think about something witty to say.

Pff, he writes, for lack of any better word to express his indignant huff, like I give a shit about you. You’re dumb.

It did sound much better in his head, but Madara has spent over a minute writing the comment already, and he doesn’t want to appear as if he’s thinking too hard on it.

He posts his answer, not dwelling too match on the number of likes on Tobirama’s comment far outnumbering the hundred Madara’s garnered. Again, Tobirama’s audience is clearly not the best judge of character.

“FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS, SENJU!” Madara shouts at the reply that follows, consisting only of the words:

Thanks for the sub btw.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Madara hisses. “Like eight fucking fake accounts do anything to boost your stats, I don’t even like all your videos from each one of them, you ass!”

I DID NOT SUB DONT BELIEVE HIM

I’m happy to have another loyal fan ;)

HE IS FUCKING LYEING!!!

With seemingly every single person in the comments raving about how it’s about time MadGamer69 and admitted he admires FlyingThunderGod’s skill, Madara has to consciously restrain himself from smashing his laptop against the wall.

“You can just tell him you like him, you know.”

Madara startles, almost stumbling to the floor when Hashirama returns with their drinks and quickly put-together snacks, always the one to rummage through Madara’s kitchen because Madara hardly cares what edible and inedible things existed there or what to do with themーthat’s Izuna’s job.

“I do not,” Madara snarls, as Hashirama flops next to him on the couch, “like that stupid clusterfuck you call a brother!”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, with that ever-present pout on his face. “Be civil.”

“Yeah, when he returns the favor,” Madara glowers, grabbing a milkshake from Hashirama’s hand. “Did you forget that he fucking started it? Do I need to quote his “pitifully adorable how so much stupidity can fit in such a short man” again?” Madara can’t help flailing his arms a little, though far too conscious of this habit now since the Tobirama has started pointing it out. He makes up for it with what he hopes is a deadly enough glare. “Did no one in your family bother to teach him manners? Did you?”

Hashirama only sighs. “And did you forget,” he asks, “how before that you abused my invitation over to our place to hide his Golden Youtube Gamer Tablet?”

Madara groans. “It’s called a Gold Play Button. Idiot.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Hashirama grumbles, “and who cares? The point is, you’d be upset too if he hid yours.”

“Youtubers care,” Madara says, “and also, that’s irrelevant, that was revenge for him making fun of my perfectly adequate gameplay.”

“To be fair, you were dying quite a lot in that playthrough...”

“He took twelve seconds longer to figure out that puzzle in the game!” Madara growls.

Hashirama rolls his eyes. “Well, of course, because that Yellow Flash guy was flirting and distracting him in the chat.”

Madara blanches. "That good-for-nothing pipsqueak was what?”

“See,” Hashirama drawls, “you are jealous. Why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!”

“Madara, you are so far in denial, that as your best friend,” Hashirama says firmly, slapping a hand over Madara’s mouth before he can muster another protest, “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer. Anymore, that is, because this has reached a breaking point. So, please, for me, I am begging you, just try politely asking if maybe Tobirama would like to accompany you for coffee somewhere tomorrow? Maybe brunch? I mean, come on, I know you guys don’t hate each other anymore. Seriously, you guys seem like you enjoy arguments, and hey, who am I to judge how people express affection?”

“Affection?!” Madara shrieks, shoving Hashirama’s hand away.

“And please stop pretending you don’t have printed out screenshots of my brother’s videos hidden under your mattress because Izunaー”

“Is a fucking snooping rat!” Madara hisses.

Hashirama sighs. “If it helps you feel better, maybe Tobirama might possibly not feel extreme dislike towards you but actually the opposite,” he says, smiling nervously as Madara blanches.

Because... what?

He blinks, running Hashirama’s words through his mind again.

“And how would you know that?” he asks, suspicious. “I swear if you dared tell him anything about my possibly nonexistent feelingsー”

“Possibly?” Excitement starts bubbling in Hashirama’s eyes. “That’s progress!”

“Definitely nonexistent feelings, dammit!”

Hashirama, the asshole Madara calls best friend for some reason, giggles. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I promise, stop glaring or I will start pouting,” he threatens, and Madara schools his expression back into a light scowl to avoid the infamous Senju pout.

Like a curse, memories of said pout curling Tobirama’s lips spring to mind, and Madara has to physically shake his head to banish those thoughts.

“Listen, the fact that we’re not as... aggressive as we used to be,” Madara says, “doesn’t mean we suddenly like each other.”

“Madara, you insist on coming along every time we hang out,” Hashirama points out.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yet every time we do,” Hashirama presses on, “you’re hyperfocused on bickering with Tobirama instead of talking about wholesome stuff with me. Did you even notice that I brought Mito with me the past few times and it was literally a double date?”

“Was not!” Madara shoves at Hashirama with his shoulder and stands up to pace, because there goes the tell-tale sweating of his hands, the fluttering in his chest and stomach and the memoriesーof him and Tobirama secretly filming the other on camera when they do stupid shit, their almost daily Best Playground Insult Contest that’s been memed half to death on Twitter, the one time they got separated from Hashirama and Izuna in Disneyland because they’d got caught in their arguments so much it devolved into discussing their favorite games and an actual conversation that had Madara’s insides tingling.

No.

No, no, no. If anything, they were just gradually becoming something not unlike friends. And Madara’s occasional fantasies behind closed doors were nothing but a means to a pleasant end.

Not. Feelings.

No matter how much he’s grown attached to the site of messy, white-gray hair that he knows is soft to the touch from all the times he’s tugged on it to irritate him. No matter how piercing Tobirama’s unique red eyes may look. No matter how objectively hot his recent workout routine video wasーand Madara knows he’d only watched it so many times because he wants to improve his own routine, right?

Right?

Madara groans. “Why are emotions so fucking confusing!” He slumps onto the floor and wraps his arms around his knees, hitting his head over and over again on his kneecaps because, “I don’t even know what I want from him, okay?”

There’s a brief silence before Hashirama joins him and keeps him from abusing his head further. “How about,” Hashirama suggests, rubbing a comforting hand on his back, “you just ask? Listen, he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. You two fighting less and at least making an effort to get to know each other better?” Hashirama brings out the puppy dog eyes. “That would mean the world for me.”

Madara glances at him before looking away again, focusing on a random photo of the wall. One featuring Tobirama right after his university graduation with a wide smile on his face. Quite the adorable face, too, and the unprompted thought makes Madara want to descend into oblivion. Preferably forever.

“That’s difficult,” he says lamely.

“But not impossible,” Hashirama says, “and hey, it’s better than waiting for the Yellow Flash guy to actually make a move on Tobi and start occupying all of his time. He’s a really big fan.”

“Fuck Minato,” Madara scoffs, “the guy just showed up and is just shamelessly emulating Tobirama’s style. That’s dumb.”

“Dumber than you claim Tobi is?” Hashirama prompts.

Madara thinks about it. “You know what? Yes.”

“As I saidーprogress!”

Madara can never go through with his impulses to punch his well-meaning best friend, and so grabs the nearest pillow from the couch and smashes it into Hashirama’s face to shut him up.

Tobirama returns home only to find Hashirama and Madara standing by the front door, frowning as they watched something that sounded like a tsunami of some kind.

“Listen, it’s gotta be one of those black holes or something twisting that vortex. Look how stuff disappears right into it!” is his brother talking, and Tobirama is already heaving a frustrated sigh.

Please don’t tell me you think there’s a black hole on Earth.

“There’s no black holes on Earth, idiot! The nearest one is way off, like near Pluto or something,” Madara says.

Ah. Even better. Tobirama chuckles under his breath, crosses his arms and leans against the wall, observing the two idiots he knows and loves.

He mentally kicks himself.

Well, one of them, he loves. Of course he loves his brother.

The other is... complicated.

“And besides, that could just be the Loch Ness monster or a cthulhu or something. See how dark the water is?”

“Or maybe,” Tobirama says, making them both jump, “it’s a natural phenomenon that’s a tad too difficult for both your brain cells to comprehend? I’m happy to explain though.”

“I’m happy to see you fuck yourself,” Madara greets him his usual way, scowling despite the exceptionally conspicuous blush painting his cheeks.

The contrast never fails to make Tobirama’s heart beat faster. He hates himself for it.

“Mm, Madara,” Tobirama teases, “not in front of my brother.”

As expected, Madara starts spluttering, and Tobirama is left wondering again how he avoids making a total fool of himself in each and every one of his videos. It seems Madara saves most of his flailing for the comment section.

“You,” Madara snarls, pointing Tobirama’s way, “are an asshole, Senju, but spending time with the better part of society might do you some good. So see you at brunch tomorrow and do not be late.”

And with that, Madara gives Hashirama a cursory wave and stalks off, leaving Tobirama frozen on the spot.

Did Madara just?..

Tobirama blinks, swallowing heavily as he feels his throat running dry and his heart rate pick up.

No fucking way.

He must have imagined it. Through his stupor of trying to figure out what the hell just took place, Tobirama vaguely registers Hashirama’s facepalm.

“Sorry for that,” Tobirama hears his brother speak through the rush in his ears. “He meant, uh, will you please join him for brunch? Tomorrow at 11 am, Eggspectation?”

Tobirama blinks harder.

“I,” he starts, “I don’t... Did you blackmail Madara into asking me out?”

Hashirama looks scandalized. “What? No!”

“Did Madara just ask me out?”

“Well, yes, Tobi.” Hashirama chuckles nervously. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Tobirama glares. “The idiot’s wake up text to me today was literally a collection of trashy limerick poems about how much I suck. Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You,” Hashirama says, wincing as a long-suffering expression settles on his face, “you guys send wake up texts to each other?”

A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Sometimes,” Tobirama says, defensive, although the damage is already done.

“And you’re still not going out? Tobirama, you do realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“Don’t say things like that, Anija!” Tobirama snaps, hoping the dim lighting in the corridor conceals the blush he can feel heating up his cheeks. Fuck. Now he’s turning Madara. “Yet, I mean.”

“I’ll save the celebrations until after your date then!” Hashirama sing-songs like the idiot he is.

Tobirama resigns to his fate. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ll thank me for this.”

“If it goes well,” Tobirama glowers though it’s ineffective, really, against his brother’s bubbling positivity, and the sheer awe still coursing through him from Madara asking him out on a fucking date is actually enough to make Tobirama want to hug him. He refrains. "Now, thanks, Anija, but I have work things to attend to.”

“Sure! Just don’t forget, 11ー”

“Eleven eggs and uh, no expectations, got it.”

“Wait, Tobi, noー”

With no time to waste, naturally, Tobirama bolts into their apartment and straight to his room to choose an appropriate outfit. And to mentally prepare himself for something he’s almost given up hoping for.

Tobirama cannotーwill notーmess this up.

Tobirama makes sure to arrive about ten minutes early. Not because he’s worried or nervous, of course; maybe just a little, but mostly just to get his bearings beforeーfinallyーa date with Madara goddamn Uchiha.

Madara, who’s been Tobirama’s stupid crush since high school, and just as in love with gaming as he is, only that didn’t turn out to be such a great bonding point between them, as Tobirama had hopedーbefore he actually got to know his Anija’s best friend.

Madara, who seemed to dislike Tobirama at first sight and only grew to hate him more over the years as they both found more joy in arguing than they did in talking.

Madara, who, despite this, blushes every rare time Tobirama genuinely smiles at him or drops a suggestive joke, who has an arguably unhealthy obsession with Tobirama’s ass which he always ogles when he thinks no one is looking.

Madara, whose plastered ass Tobirama had to drag home the other week, amid drunken speeches about capitalist injustice, some wacky conspiracy behind the disappearance of the dodo bird and... something quite interesting.

 “Listen, Senju,” Madara was slurring against Tobirama’s shoulder, as the latter cursed every single nonexistent god that Hashirama had chosen that fucking day to go on a road trip with Mito, Toka and Izuna, leaving Tobirama in charge of this walking trash fire of a man. “Listen. Tobira... Tobi. Tobirama. You’re so hot.”

The words almost made Tobirama stumble.

“What, Uchiha?”

“And cute... So pretty, too, I wish you could see that...” Madara went on babbling. “I think you do. But still. Wish you could see me like I do. I mean see you. Like I do...”

“Tobira, you’re just, you’re unfair...”

“I hate you and I like you then I love you and I hate you again, why you’reー” A hiccup. “How do you exist...”

“I just want to hold hands and just... walk and talk and be together and...”

Tobirama watched in ever mounting confusion as Madara leaned completely into him, humming as he hugged Tobirama tightly and said,

“Is that too fucking much to ask...”

Tobirama stood, shell-shocked, with Madara whispering impossible nonsense in his arms, wondering if he was in a dream.

 The next day saw Madara returning to his usual self insulting Tobirama at every goddamn opportunity, which left Tobirama... confused.

Confused, and conflicted, and sleepless for the rest of the night, thoughts held captive by the utter idiot whose ultimate goal seems to be to ruin Tobirama’s life.

It’s maddening.

Of course, he’d suspected that Madara’s flailing and constant blushing interspersed with screams and insults (the most creative ones, reserved only for Tobirama, it seemed) were signs of not so much dislike, as the complete opposite. Of course, Tobirama had tried flirting with Madara, just bordering right there on the edge of suggestive, only for his advances to be seen as patronizing or condescending. And hearing Madara speak to him this way, in a drunken stupor no less, when he’d probably have no causeーor abilityーto lie is...

Maddening. Annoying. Exhilarating. A tantalizing opportunity. Maybe a glimmer of hope.

And of course, Tobirama told his brother; they never really had any secrets between them. And of fucking course Hashirama had a hand in convincing Madara to change his usual behavior, which is nice and all, but doesn’t help the nerves wracking through Tobirama’s body, nor the crippling fear that he’s going to somehow screw this up.

But no. Deep breath. Exhale. And remember Anija’s advice.

Tobirama takes the last turn before he’s faced with their meeting place, surprised to find Madara already there.

Even though he’s usually always late. Sitting inside by the window, looking out onto the street with a slight frown, Madara keeps worrying his bottom lip and, apparently, trying to break a spoon.

It paints an endearing picture. Tobirama sighs, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.

This man...

Tobirama comes in, approaching him slowly, allowing himself a few moments to watch Madara needlessly fix his wild mane of hair, appraise his reflection in the spoon, try out several fake-looking smiles before settling on a scowl and going back to his nervous tics again. With another sigh, Tobirama takes the few steps left to his date, repeating Hashirama’s advice over and over in his head.

Just be yourselfーand have fun!

Just a few minutes into their date, it becomes obvious that Madara didn’t get the same advice from Hashirama.

Or just didn’t get the advice, period.

With their orders made and beverages served, they’re left to wallow in a less than comfortable silence, broken only by Madara’s... uncharacteristic attempts at conversation.

“Are you enjoying the tea?” Madara asks Tobirama with all of the softness of a brick wall.

Tobirama isn’t used to the man being eloquent, much less polite, and he has yet to have at least one conversation with Madara that doesn’t devolve into a pissing contest. So theoretically, Tobirama should be enjoying this.

But it only seems wrong. Annoying. Not them.

He tries to recall if, maybe, their first meeting was an adequate exchange? Tobirama thinks to the day Hashirama first introduced them. Only flashes of spilled milkshakes and jibes at intelligence run through his mind, and of course that was the very first time he’d called Madara an idiot pipsqueak, receiving quite the lame ‘stuck-up dandelion’ in turn.

Unsurprising.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, taking another sip as he eyes Madara struggling on the other side of the table. Struggling to do what is the question: either sit straight, or assume a more relaxed posture, or reach towards his own drink, or avoid eye contact, even though he keeps glancing his way when he thinks Tobirama won’t notice. Tobirama does, every time, and that just makes the whole ordeal more awkward. “Nice weather,” Tobirama says, with about as much enthusiasm.

If Madara wants to play this stupid game, Tobirama will indulge. Just to see how long it takes for Madara to break and return to his blustering status quo.

“Yeah...” Madara clears his throat, eye twitching as he manages to hold Tobirama’s gaze for a commendable three seconds this time. “Hate the sun. I meanーI mean I love the sun. Ugh. It just, uh. Burns.”

It’s both saddening and funny to see Madara visibly deflate.

“Skin too sensitive, huh?” Tobirama starts small. “Just like your ego?”

Madara’s jaw clenches and his nervous look shifts into a glare before he looks away again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he flashes an unnaturally cheery smile.

“Heh, nice,” Madara grits through his teeth, “nice joke, Senju.”

Tobirama raises his eyebrow as Madara flinches at his own words.

“I’m glad you appreciate my sense of humor,” Tobirama says, barely reining in a smirk.

“Sure! You’reーyou’re funny.”

“And?”

“And what?” Madara frowns, confused.

“And what else am I?” Tobirama demands, feigning thoughtfulness. “A recent assessment of yours was that I look and act like a self-obsessed dumbass, I think.”

“No-no,” Madara blurts out, looking much a cornered animal, “I think you... you are... you look not at all so terrible today?” he finishes with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Tobirama wants to scream from the agony.

No. This won’t do, otherwise he might as well leave.

“Can you just call me a stuck-up asshole like you always do or recite one of those horrible limerick disses?” he demands.

Madara actually yelps. “What? No! I mean, wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“We’re on a date, if you were too stupーpreoccupied to get my invitation, Senju,” Madara says, jaw still clenched as he doubtless refrains from swearing, “and I’m being civil!”

That’s the advice he must have gotten from Anija, Tobirama thinks.

What a tragedy.

“Madara,” Tobirama implores, leaning his eyebrows on the table and meeting Uchiha’s gaze, “have you considered thatーI prefer it when you aren’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, thank fuck!” Madara slams his hands on the table, heaving a massive sigh as Tobirama laughs in relief. “I was ready to fucking die, you piece of shit! How does your brother stay so fucking kind all the time, it’s fucking torture!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “It’s a talent, naturally. Just like your talent at embarrassing yourself and mine at being awesome.”

“You’ve got it a little backwards, Senju,” Madara sneers, “but it’s excusable, given your level of intellect.”

“Twice as high as yours?” Tobirama parries.

“Twice as little.”

“That’s more like it,” Tobirama says, grinning despite himself, “I thought you were a decoy or something. You’ve told me to fuck off every single day since we first met and this was getting worrisome.”

Madara’s laugh is sudden, melodic, sending those irritating tingling sensations through Tobirama’s body. He makes an effort to appear outwardly calm.

“Maybe because you managed to piss me the fuck off every day that I’ve known you,” Madara scoffs, “but you’re all right sometimes. I guess.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he keeps nervously fixing and running his fingers through his hair.

A stupid, tantalizing habit. Tobirama imagines carding his own hands through the messy locks, tugging Madara’s head back toー

He forcefully aborts the thought process before he’s faced with a problem of the harder kind. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll try to strangle each other when we game together.”

“We’re playing today?” Madara asks.

Tobirama tilts his head to the side.

“You haven’t planned one gaming session after our date?”

“Um,” Madara says, blinking rapidly, “why should I be the one with the plan?”

“Because you’re the one who invited me,” Tobirama deadpans. And anyway, Madara is always the one to egg Tobirama on to gaming, which would usually only ever lead to semi-playful brawls and their fighting making Hashirama cry.

And without Anija there to assault them with his antics, Tobirama wonders what their play-fighting might lead to... and promptly shuts off those thoughts again. Control, dammit.

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it, sighs explosively and says, “All right, fair enough. But you’re the strategy pro here. And my thing is RPGs.” He smirks. “I can improvise.”

And Madara does, in fact, improvise, leading Tobirama on what he hopes is a satisfying daylong adventure. It’s strange, walking by themselves around Konoha without anyone else with them (not that they’ve taken to ignoring Hashirama and Mito anyway on their most recent group outings), free to talk about and do anything they want. Strange and perfect, the way Tobirama switches between poorly concealed bashfulness and his usual confidence, as their jokes and jibes at each other, every little prank they pull never fails to make them both laugh.

It’s perfect.

Just like Tobirama’s smile is, directed at him without any pretenses as they set off to explore the lush, gigantic forest surrounding the city, rumored to be home to mythical, many-tailed creatures. And that’s followed by their forays into an abandoned chemistry lab; the scares they get in the woods from intermittent growls coming from the shadows are nothing compared to the horror Madara feels when Tobirama insists on touching broken vials and experimental equipment, and going through doors with dilapidated ‘DANGER. CHEMICAL HAZARD’ signs.

“If we’re infected by some deadly and insidious poison,” Madara whispers as they explore the lab’s tunnels, “I’m going to fucking kill you before it does. Painfully.”

“It’s for science,” Tobirama says. “And trust me. We’re safe. I got a degree in this.”

“Youtube is practically your full-time job at this point. What the fuck else do you need?”

“The satisfaction of discovering something cool?”

“And deadly.”

"Unlikely.”

Madara groans, cursing his life, as well as his inability to say no to hisーapparentlyーnew boyfriend.

The boyfriend who’s just discovered another hidden pathway to a deeper level and has scurried off towards it like an excited five-year-old. Despite himself, despite his intent to keep complaining, Madara can’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips.

Still perfect.

Just like their lunch date which turns into a picnic by the Naka river, where Madara remembers meeting Hashirama way back when. Just like the first time Tobirama grasps his hand, fingers gently massaging it as he laughs at Madara stuttering to a stop from whatever rant he’d been on, heart in his throat and mind suddenly focused on whether his palms are too sweaty or not.

His mind goes blank. Eyes focus only on the man in front of him, whom he yearns to strangle just as often as he craves to tackle him onto any surface and ruin him completely. And it should feel wrong, it should be, only Madara hasn’t quite felt so right about anything in a long time, and with every minute they spend with their familiar bickering, just with a layer of something more behind it this time, it becomes harder and harder to deny how good being near Tobirama makes him feel. Happy. Complete.

Madara winces. Oh, gods. He’s waxing poetic now.

All worries about that fly out the window when Tobirama, without so much as a word of warning, leans in and draws Madara by his collar into a kiss.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t spring up to awaken alone in his bed like he always does, after dreams like these.

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Madara’s best kiss to date.

Maybe he’s exaggerating, if just because he’s been craving this so damn much. Tobirama’s lips are hot, gentle, and welcoming against his, a curious tongue darting out to coax Madara’s lips open and deepen the kiss. The delightful drag of his tongue, his hands, rough and demanding on Madara’s chest, waist, thighsーit’s not long before he’s dizzy with it, barely holding back moans of pleasure for fear of sounding too desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara gasps as they pull away for breath, lips still touching as their eyes stay locked and he’s treated to Tobirama’s downright ravenous gaze. “That wasー”

Tobirama cuts him off with another kiss, then another, and it’s not long before they find themselves tangled in a mess of limbs and loose clothing. The hard ground presses against Madara’s back as Tobirama settles on top of him, ravaging Madara’s mouth with a passion that soon has his pants feeling too tight.

Fuck.

He groans, hips thrusting of their own accord and feeling Tobirama's own erection through the fabric.

Madara makes an immense effort to pull away, stifling a whine at the loss of contact.

“Bed,” he says, mortified at his own crudeness far too late after the word comes out. “Fuck, I meantー”

“Yes,” Tobirama growls, capturing Madara’s lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he hauls him up to start gathering their things. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours? Izuna,” Madara rasps, head too clouded to explain more in-depth, but Tobirama seems to understand.

“Anija shouldn’t be back for a while,” Tobirama says, a devastating grin on his face, “lots of time for us to play.”

Gods.

Madara scrambles to his feet fast enough to stumble, and for once, Tobirama has nothing to say about his clumsiness.

They all but crash through the front door, not even bothering to lock it as they rush through a cursory check to make sure Hashirama is out like he said he’d be.

“Fuck, thank the gods,” Tobirama sighs in relief before dragging Madara back into liplock.

Madara can’t hold back a moan this time, heat ratcheting up between them as he wraps his hands around Tobirama’s neck, pulling him closer as they stumble to the couch. Madara ends up straddling him just so that their cocks brush through too-rough clothing, kiss growing urgent and sloppy, as wandering hands touching every inch of uncovered skin.

Clothes fall away, leaving them both shirtless, and Madara needs a few moments to take in the miles of pale skin, so soft to the touch, toned muscles rippling as Tobirama squirms under him, gasps and groans escaping his lips in answer to every one of Madara’s touches. He leans in to mouth Tobirama’s neck, sucking bruising kisses onto the soft skin there pleasure flaring at the base of his stomach each time Tobirama moans and arches against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Madara whispers, with a hint of incredulity. “That’s... fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama rasps, eyes unfocused, “because... just get on with it.”

“If I knew this is what it took to finally get you to shut up,” Madara chuckles, “I would have tried this a long time ago.”

If he weren’t so sure Tobirama genuinely despised him. Butー

“I fucking wished you would!” Tobirama snaps, though the irritation rings hollow with the breathless tone.

Madara blinks in shock.

“You did?” Madara asks, moving lower to lap at Tobirama’s nipple, sucking the hardened nub into his mouth and eliciting another delicious whimper. “You thought about this? About my hands on you, touching you?”

“Yes!” The desperation in his tone only adds to Madara’s mounting confidence, one that he so rarely ever feels in Tobirama’s presence.

“My mouth on your cock,” he continues, heart hammering against his ribs as he trails kisses lower and lower, “would you like that? While I finger you, getting you ready to take me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tobirama’s hips jerk, making them both moan at the friction.

“Off,” Madara grunts, tugging at Tobirama’s pants with one hand as the other works the belt off his own. They scramble, a bit awkwardly, until they’re both naked and sprawled on top of each other, and Madara all but drools at the sight of Tobirama’s cock, hard and straining, beads of precum already leaking from the tip.

Perfect.

It’s tempting to just let go but Madara decides to take his time. Strokes Tobirama’s sides and chest, fingers his nipples, kisses every inch of skin he can reach, sucking bruises and biting slightly. He marvels at every little keen and groan he wrings from Tobirama, relishing how needy he grows with each second, how he moans Madara’s name, curses him and urges Madara to touch him, sliding his dick against his and huffing when Madara doesn’t do anything about it, before finally devolving into pleading.

Just what Madara’s been waiting for.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama’s whines, a soft, desperate sound that makes Madara groan in turn.

“Please what?” he asks, knowing he’s being a tease and enjoying the hell out of it.

Tobirama musters a pretty non-intimidating glare. “Just... fuck.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” Madara raises an eyebrow, making sure to wet his lips, letting his tongue gently graze the head of Tobirama’s cock. “I can bottom. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck!” Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut, heavy breathing interspersed with desperate whines. “Just... suck me off. Please. Now.”

“That’s it, Tobirama,” Madara drags out the syllables of his name, a smirk tugging at his lips, “when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He wraps his lipsーfinallyーaround the head, licking at the salty fluid gathered there, ears ringing from the heady feel of Tobirama’s cock against his mouth, his hands tangling in Madara’s hair, the sounds slipping from Tobirama’s lips that are borderline fucking obscene. Madara takes a breath to brace himself and takes Tobirama a few inches deeper. His length is hot, stiff, and heavy in his mouth as Madara presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, sucking hard, wringing another delectable whimper. Tobirama’s thrusts up, cock hitting the back of his throat, and Madara chokes for a moment, his own dick jerking at the sensation.

“Madara,” Tobirama breathes, “Madara, gods, you feel amazing.”

The words send another rush of pleasure through him, and Madara takes himself in hand to release some of the unbearable tension, stroking himself slowly as he relaxes his throat and sinks down to take Tobirama to the base.

Tobirama’s moan is a sweet, drawn-out melody. One that Madara enjoys making louder and louder as he starts moving, setting a fast-paced rhythm, uncaring for how debauched he may look, drool leaking out of his mouth and coating Tobirama’s cock, throat constricting around it as he takes him deep, lets him stay there, tongue gliding along his shaft. Tobirama soon devolves into barely coherent pleading, until ‘please’, and ‘more’, and Madara’s name are the only words coming out of his mouth.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming, far too much. Madara gives up stroking himself, the pleasure ramping up far too quickly, too soon, though Tobirama isn’t doing much better. Madara draws his lips up along his length, lapping up more precum gathered at the head, even as Tobirama’s hips jerk again and the hand in Madara’s hair tightens, urging him back down.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama keens, “I need...”

Madara has a pretty good idea of what he needs. He swirls his tongue over the head, descending again until his nose is pressed against Tobirama’s stomach. Madara swallows around him once, twice, a third time before he feels Tobirama nudging at his shoulder in a warning he doesn’t pay heed to, starting to bob his head again, wrapping his fingers around the base of Tobirama’s cock, using both his mouth and hand to bring him to completion.

“Fuck, Madara, Iー”

Madara lets out a muffled groan once he feels cum spilling against his tongue, swallowing rapidly as Tobirama’s cock pulses, again and again, through an orgasm that has him writhing and and trembling underneath him, hands tightening in Madara’s hair enough to hurt with the kind of tantalizing pain that only adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tobirama pants, watching Madara through white lashes, eyes dark and hazy as another shudder runs through him, “fuckーI want...”

Madara releases him with a wet pop. “Want what, Tobirama?” he whispers, voice too hoarse for him to speak properly.

Tobirama grips his shoulders in lieu of an answer, directing Madara to turn around so his back is pressed against his chest.

Then Tobirama’s hand wraps around his cock andーoh.

Madara has pretty much forgotten about his own pleasure, too focused on not coming too soon and making sure Tobirama was enjoying himself.

“My turn,” Tobirama murmurs against his ear, tone still breathless but with a commanding edge to it now that makes Madara shiver, “and lemmeーlet me hear you, Madara.”

Gods. He groans just from the sound of Tobirama’s voice. The feel of his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, his hand setting a quick, harsh rhythm that builds up the pleasure to impossible degrees. Tobirama’s heated skin pressed against his back, his thighs, the fingers of his other hand carding through his hair with a gentleness that contrasts with his harshness before.

It’s too much.

“Go on, Madara.”

Tobirama’s fingers swiping at the precome gathering at the head of Madara’s cock, smearing it over his shaft. His voice, a muffled whisper coaxing Madara to let go, to come for him, to say Tobirama’s nameー

“Just like that, Madara,” Tobirama grunts, “louder for me, come on.”

Madara thrusts into his grip, all but fucking into Tobirama’s fist at this point, moans his name as the heat grows unbearable the closer he gets to release.

“To-bi-rama...” He comes with a broken groan slipping from his lips as cum spills all over his stomach and Tobirama’s hand, each pulse coming stronger than the last, leaving him dizzy and boneless in Tobirama’s arms for however long it takes for his orgasm to abate.

Feels like forever. Probably a lot less. Time does seem to slow down, though, both of them collapsing against each other onto the cushions, breathing raggedly and curling into each other as Madara turns to bury his head in the crook of Tobirama’s neck.

It still seems unreal. Too perfect. So right.

They lie there for a minutes, coming down from the high, limbs tangled and lazy kisses exchanged here and there. Tobirama looks so peaceful, like Madara’s never seen him before: eyes half-lidded, hair messier than ever, sticking in every direction, skin still flushed and marked, all over, with hickeys and teeth marks, the mere sight of which has Madara’s dick stirring in interest, recent orgasm or no.

“You know,” Madara says, hands running over Tobirama’s chest, barely grazing his still sensitive nipples and making him shiver, “if this is the game you want to play, I’m really not against binging it. The rest of the dayーweekend, if you want.” Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s neck. “Make the playthrough as thorough as possible.” To his collarbone. “Unlock all achievements and, uh,” Madara trails his hand along Tobirama’s chest to his groin, past his length and to his ass, "explore every location.”

“If that was some thinly veiled euphemism,” Tobirama says, barely holding in laughter, “for you wanting to fuck me sideways...” Madara holds Tobirama’s gaze as his fingers hover just over Tobirama’s hole. “Then Madara, for fuck’s sake, stop trying to be subtle and get to work.”

Madara barks out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Tobirama.”

Madara dips his voice low and deep, like he’s noticed Tobirama loves, and relishes the whimper it earns him. Relishes the way Tobirama arches against him, looking for friction, how delectable he looks, ready and responsive, so eager for Madara’s touch.

He knows then and there that if it’s up to him, Madara will do anything to make this last.

#madatobi #tobimada #modern au #youtuber au #lou writes #idiots in love #madara is in denial (and thirsting) #tobirama is laughing (and equally thirsting) from the sidelines #fluff and smut #humor #meow

[mermaidcashton]

all the pretty girls

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: calum hood/luke hemmings, genderswap!AU prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”  wordcount: 1519 warnings: swearing, hint of sexual content  dedication: this one is for gay!sos group chat, and all the other wlw 5sos fans 💘 a/n: • so, i wanted wlw!5sos and established relationship, self-indulgent, domestic cuteness and i...think i have achieved that? lol • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos​ ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - i will share the masterlist for you to see everyone elses when it’s finished!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘honey’ by kehlani 

all the pretty girls ***

all the pretty girls in the world but i'm in this space with you 

***

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” “Oh!” Luke gasped, burying her head further into Calum’s shoulder. Calum was bemused. “Haven’t you seen this movie like ten times?” “Fuck,I think I’ve seen this movie ten times.” Calum would be seriously questioning her life choices if she hadn’t taken into account that every time she’d ever watched it, she’d had the hottest woman she’d ever met pressed against her. That seriously balanced the scales of shitty cinema, in Calum’s opinion. 

“It’s just so cute.” Luke sniffed. Calum pretended not to notice her wiping her nose on Calum’s sleeve; she looked cute enough in it to get away with almost anything.

Right now Luke was wearing avocado print pyjama shorts and Calum’s Santa Cruz sweatshirt (despite owning at least 300 separate items of clothing, in Calum’s most conservative estimations), with her blonde hair in a messy bun and the beginnings of a snotty nose. Her eyelashes were glossy with the tears she’d brushed away, and Calum thought she’d still be willing to watch every straight-to-video 00’s rom com ever made as long as it was what Luke wanted. 

“Does this seriously not make you emotional? He gave up Paris for her! Paris, Calum!” Luke whined, craning her neck to look up at Calum from her position under her arm, her lithe body laid across the sofa.  

Calum smirked. “Come on, babe; you know ‘Wall-E’ is the only movie that makes me feel anything.”

Luke rolled her eyes, but giggled all the same before pressing on insistently.  “It’s so romantic, though. Isn’t this the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” “No?” Calum scoffed, settling back against the mountain of cushions that seemed to grow every time they went to Ikea. Then it struck her. “Hang on, are you saying that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?!” 

“Yeah…” Luke let out another dreamy sigh before stilling almost imperceptibly. Oh, shit.

“What?!” Calum said, already looking more indignant than the time Luke had accidentally cheered for Arsenal insead of Liverpool (“Your Liverpool shirt is red, Calum! What the hell is an away kit?! I hate football!”). “Obviously I wasn’t includi-” Luke tried to recover, but Calum was too far gone. “I write the sickest anniversary cards! My last Valentine’s Day card to you? Fuckin’ poetry, Luke! I mean, not literally because that’s lame as fuck, but I am romantic as shit!”

Calum knew that generally speaking, people would consider Luke to be the more romantic in the relationship. Everyone who lived within 5 miles of their apartment had probably heard Luke tell Calum she loved her, or seen her entwine their hands, or pout her lips for a kiss she had to have right that second, at least twice. She was more prone to posting photos of Calum on Instagram with captions that ranged from sweet to thirsty as hell. Every time she attempted to bake for Calum, it would almost always be using a heart-shaped mould or cutter she’d found at the pound shop down the street. And at Calum’s gigs, everyone always knew exactly where she was in the crowd because Luke was yelling about the incredibly sexy bassist with the best basslines in the history of bass at every possible moment. 

However, Calum thought her own brand of romance of just as valid, and Luke seemed to like it. Calum was a fan of surprising Luke with flowers, albeit wild bouquets of sunflowers and daisies rather than roses or peonies (“Wildflowers for my Wildflower.”), and of playing records on vinyl that she thought Luke would like - or that reminded her of her girlfriend - while they ate a dinner Calum had made from scratch because she’d seen a recipe online that she knew Luke would love. Calum also trusted Luke in a way that was rare for her, and lying in the dark of the their bedroom, speaking out loud things she’d never told anyone - childhood memories of her parents messy divorce, her deepest fears, greatest dreams, biggest secrets - whilst her girlfriend rubbed comforting circles over her hip and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, felt intimate and special in a way Calum hoped Luke felt was romantic. And like she said - her card writing skills were sick.     

Luke sat up on the sofa, freeing herself from underneath Calum’s arm. She clicked the pause button on the remote, dropping it onto the rug as she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I take it back; you are the most romantic I only meant in, like, movies and stuff! Obviously you are the most romantic and beautiful and I love you!”

Calum sniffed, trying to keep her sad face on without breaking. “Obviously not, as I don’t have a European city to not go to for you…”  Luke saw her girlfriend’s mouth twitch at the corner. Right. She tucked her long legs underneath herself, settling back on the sofa as she spoke. “Like I said, I take it back - I was wrong.” 

Calum could count on one hand the amount of time she had heard Luke say those three words during their relationship, and was ready to celebrate a substantial victory, until she clocked the smile spreading across Luke’s face that spelled trouble.

Luke continued in a purposely casual voice. “The actual most romantic thing I’ve ever heard was on our third date, when you drank all those daiquiris and told me that one day you were gonna ‘fucking wife me’.” Calum groaned and tried to sink back into the sofa so it could swallow her whole; this plan was thwarted by all the Ikea cushions.

“Shut up, that wasn’t me. You must have me confused with your other girlfriend. I don’t even drink daiquiris.” Luke’s distinctive laugh filled Calum’s ears; she loved that sound (it was in her top 3 sounds that Luke made), but right now she felt so embarrassed at the memory of her nerves getting the better of her in a Tapas restaurant that she couldn’t really enjoy it.

“Maybe not anymore! But Ashton told me how much of the morning after you spent with your head in the toilet, so I guess it makes sense you gave them up.” Luke teased, her blue eyes bright with mischief.

“I hate Ashton.” Calum mumbled, with nowhere near as much heat as was currently in her cheeks.

Luke’s giggles had taken on a unmistakable air of victory; Calum could not let this stand.

“Right, that’s it; we’re watching ‘Pulp Fiction’!” Calum declared, leaning down to feel around on the floor in the dimly lit living room for the remote where Luke had abandoned it. “Noooo!” Luke whined, reaching out to grab Calum’s wrists as she rose in triumph. “Cal!” She pouted as she missed entirely. It had always made Calum laugh when Luke tried to overpower her in any way; she was clumsy, and she wasn’t quick or strong enough to get the jump on Calum, unless she cheated (which she often did). In the past, Calum had hoped Luke wouldn’t notice the way she clenched her thighs together when the blonde would wiggle against her, bite her lip, whine or pant. Inevitably, as their relationship had continued, Luke had become fully aware of the effect she had on Calum, and now employed her sexuality as a weapon against Calum whenever she deemed it necessary. Nowadays, she tended to cut to the chase, as she was now. Calum barely registered the remote being extracted from her slackening grip as Luke held the grey sweatshirt and her cropped pyjama top up above her chin with one hand. She did register Luke’s small but perfectly formed tits, and wondered briefly what they had been talking about. Luke didn’t let her clothes drop back down to cover her breasts until she’d already unpaused the movie and stashed the remote underneath the armrest on her side of the sofa. 

“That...was savage.” Calum deadpanned, shaking her head as she clambered to her feet. Luke put on her most innocent smile (which was not that innocent if you knew her as well as Calum did). “Do you want another drink?” “Yes please, gorgeous.” Luke replied with her eyes still fixed to the screen, her lips moving in the time with the actress on screen with the dodgy bangs. Calum rolled her eyes fondly before making her way to their small kitchen in search of rosé.

She didn’t notice it until she closed the fridge again, but Luke had responded. 

Earlier in the day, Luke had used their alphabet fridge magnets to spell out ‘BUY MORE MILK’. Upon seeing this just after lunch, Calum had immediately checked she had the right letters to arrange the obvious reply; ‘NO FUCK U’, giggling to herself the whole time she’d been doing it. She let out a snort, picking up the personalised wine glasses Michael had gifted them when they moved in together. She set off back towards the living room, idly thinking about what movie she was going to demand they put on when this torture was over.

‘NO U’.

***

my masterlist   • please let me know what you think of wlw!cake and if you would like to see more of them here!

#5sos writing collab #my writing #mermaidcashton #5sos fic #5sos #cake fic #cake 5sos #calum hood #luke hemmings #calum #luke #girl!sos #girl!5sos #wlw!5sos #wlw!sos #5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #calum 5sos #cake fluff #mcwlwsos #5 seconds of summer fic #cake 5sos fic

[returningwriter]

A Night at the Lux

So this was posted before over on AO3 but because I don’t think I’ll be able to post much here today I present to you my weird little Supergirl/Lucifer crossover to tide you Tumblr folks over. Roll the intro hype!

"...Kara Zor-El what is it that you truly desire?”

A short and sweet story wherein Kara, while on assignment for CatCo in Los Angeles, finds herself at a nightclub called Lux and draws the attention of its annoyingly charming owner. There will be admissions of desires, singing and Kara deciding to stop being so weak about confronting Lena. Supergirl is about to dance with the Devil.

“You... at the end of all things, I thought about you..."

All in all, Kara felt that this trip to Los Angeles had been a roaring success and there had not been a single Supergirl emergency that required her attention. CatCo had sent her to cover a video-game convention something she had jumped at the chance to do. Especially after the last few months being one disaster after another. 

The Red Daughter and the dark mirror she’d been forced to stare into. The Crisis and carrying the burden of hope as Oliver had sacrificed his life for the multiverse and then coming back from that with Lena still hating her freaking guts thanks to Lex’s machinations and her own stupidity. It had been a rough year, even by her standards and she'd fought World Killers and evil Nazi Doppelgangers.

It hadn’t been all doom and gloom though, the Crisis and the following universal reboot meant that Kate and Barry were now only a phone call away and she had more masked friends than ever before with Nia and Brainy around. Alex was happy with Kelly and her extended family was strong even though it was missing a key member. None of that was the reason why she was in a nightclub called Lux with some of the reporters that had been covering the convention. No, she was here due to good old-fashioned peer pressure.

Truth be told, this place wasn’t her scene at all, she was a dive bar kind of girl and this place well it was too loud and glitzy. People watching from her safe spot in the corner while sipping her virgin Virgin Mary she counted down the minutes until she could go back to her hotel room.

Watching the club's patrons dance and drink the night away while wondering why there was a grand piano in a nightclub did take her mind of Lena though. Now, by her estimations, it was two more hours of this. Then she could make her exit without offending her peers and get back to the hotel to mope in private.

“Now I know every regular that comes through my doors, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a British accented voice said and when she looked up she was faced with what could best be described as a tall, dark and handsome man in a black suit with piercing eyes. How she had not heard him approach her private corner? She thought before she found herself strangely compelled to explains why she was here.

“I’m not from around here, actually, I’m in town on business but would really love to be back on the couch at home and... why am I telling you this?” she asked as the words fell out of her mouth and on a hunch she used her x-ray vision to be sure that this wasn’t an alien. But what she saw confused her more than anything. Because upon using her enhanced senses, he appeared like a glowing being of light.

“It’s a gift, people always seem to want to tell me things, Lucifer, Morningstar,” the man introduced himself while taking a seat across from her.

“Kara Zor… Kara Danvers,” she said almost saying Kara Zor-El before finding the willpower to resist the man’s annoyingly soothing voice and piercing gaze.

“Oh, you’re impressive Miss Danvers,” he laughed, and she wished she’d paid more attention to when Eliza had been trying to teach her about Earth religions because that name was so familiar.

“Lena doesn’t seem to think so, she thinks I’m downright vile right now,” she said and that was it. Who was this being? Because he, sure as heck wasn’t human or alien and she sure as heck didn’t need her mind probed right now. Especially by some smooth-voiced club owner and she felt anger and rage rising in her chest.

“What are you?” she demanded with a bit more steel to her voice while letting the mask of Kara Danvers, good-natured reporter, slip.

“Oh, hello there, I must say this whole duality of being you got going on here is very interesting, Kara Zor-El, and I told you already my name is Lucifer Morningstar,” he laughed and greeted her again.

“As in the Judeo-Christian devil? The one that fell?” she asked in disbelieve when it finally clicked, but she'd always been more of a science guild girl herself anyways ever since she was a kid on Krypton and Krypton didn't really have a devil analog in their pantheons aside from Vohc the Breaker.

“The one and only and you look like one Constantine’s little friends, you know... one of those cape-wearing demi-gods that popped up after that little universal merger the other day,” he replied without any hint of not being serious while waving off the Crisis like it was just another Tuesday.

“How… how do you know all this?” she demanded and drained her Virgin Mary in one big gulp while her mind tried to process who she was sitting across from. Rao help her, not even going out clubbing albeit against her will could be simple.

“Let’s call it my unique outlook on the world, now Kara Zor-El what is it that you truly desire?” he asked and again those eyes bore down on her with the weight of ages behind them.

“I… want…” she stated saying through gritted teeth as she fought tooth and nail against what she wanted to admit. It was like a mental block, she knew what she wanted, but three years of denial wasn't easily overcome.

“Oh, this is fun, humans usually come right out and blurt out their darkest desires right away. I must admit, I haven’t had to work this hard for a confession in ages,” he laughed and clapped his hands together with unbridled glee.

“I want Lena Luthor! Now get out of my head Vohc!” she roared out switching from English to Kryptonian as she tore off her glasses and flashed her heat-vision at the insufferable being in front of her.

“My, my, my, that is a lot of pent up rage and emotions,” he chuckled and got to his feet seemingly satisfied with having gotten her to confess her desire for Lena.

“I want… Lena,” she whispered to herself while looking down at her hands and all of a sudden, memories of every touch, every gesture and every shared look between her and the raven-haired beauty came flooding back.

“How about a song? I bet you have a wonderful singing voice Miss Zor-El,” the infuriating devil, well literal Devil, asked her and offered her his hand.

Glaring up at him, with half a mind to fry him with a blast of heat-vision but judging from his personality he’d probably like that. Screw it, she thought to herself and took his hand with as much force as she could, which to her considerable pleasure made him wince.

“The Devil Went Down to Georgia, I assume you know it?” she asked with a smirk as he slithered behind the grand piano and then the club went oddly silent.

“Cheeky… I like it,” the Devil laughed and started gliding his fingers over the black and whites keys of the piano.

Devil Went Down to Georgia, sung with gusto, gave way to All Along the Watchtower at Lucifer’s request which then slipped into Moon River before her requesting that they sing Running Home To You which she had sung at Barry’s wedding. By this point, some of her colleagues from the other outlets had started filming the impromptu concert on their phones but she paid them no heed. This was fun and Lucy wasn't half-bad on the piano or when it came to singing.

“This next song is for a very special girl, her name is Lena,” she said softly before launching into Total Eclipse of the Heart and when the notes died down Lucifer was looking at her with something akin to sympathetic sadness. While she was pretty sure she was crying as she took off her glasses and placed them on the piano.

“It isn't simply a desire that you feel for this Lena is it?” he asked her as she looked around the club, then down at him before giving a small smile and shaking her head.

"Well providing distractions is something I'm very good at, how about another song, something more upbeat? We make a pretty good duet you know," the said with a devilish grin.

“Yeah, we do, but you for the record are still a jerk,” she said and accepted another drink from a passing waitress who was kinda cute and this drink wasn't virginal at all, no she was pretty sure this one fucked.

“Then let's do another song, what will it be?” he asked without missing a beat and she grinned at him thankful for the distraction and for some reason this particular cocktail was working freaking wonders for her.

“Piano Man! Scoot over!” she exclaimed and the groan and the look of horror on his face made the lame suggestion so totally worth it as she sat down next to him.

“Oh, you play too?” he asked sounding impressed and gave up the keys to her for which she flashed him a beaming smile.

“Didn't you know? I’m all sorts of impressive... Lucy,” she assured him with a tipsy giggle.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, music, dancing and an impromptu bar brawl when someone got too handsy with one of the cute waitresses. Thus, both her and her new best friend, the Devil, had stepped in to settle things. With her being a bit tipsy she might have gotten a bit too excited but Lucy assured that the hole in the wall could easily be patched up. Along with the handsy bro she'd thrown through the wall

"Your waitresses are all so cute!" she giggled with her glasses off and forgotten on top of the grand piano as they danced together. Oh yes, she was tipsy, potentially drunk and dancing with the Devil, but she was having the best time without any expectations weighing her down.

"And you are very drunk Miss Zor-El," he laughed and twirled her around before letting her go but he made sure she bumped into one of the said cute waitresses.

"Hi I'm Kara... you're like super cute!" she giggled to the waitress and the girl in a very short dress actually smiled back at her.

"And I'm... off the clock," the girl said with a grin before taking her hands and placing them firmly on her hips. Oh, this was new and she kinda liked it.

When she woke up the next day, she was back in her hotel room and thankfully by herself although that waitress had been cute, her endgame was Lena. Cracking her eye open to see that on the nightstand there was an apple and a bottle of water along with a handwritten note that read: You’re heavier then you look, come back for an encore anytime. L. p.s. Emily says hi

“Of course… an apple,” she chuckled but that made her head hurt. What had been in those drinks she wondered as she picked up the apple and took a bite. By Rao it was delicious, but then again Lucy would know a thing or two about apples.

Then she made the mistake of looking at her phone and to say it was blowing up would have been an understatement. Barry, Kate, Alex, Kelly, Nia, Brainy, Eliza, and even J’onn had messaged her while she slept. What had she done? What had she texted?

“Not good…” she muttered to herself as she checked the first message which was from Barry along with a link to a video.

Can’t believe you had a concert without me! I thought we were Super Friends and isn’t Lena that girl who hates you though? The message read and she clicked the link with a sense of dread.

“This next song is for a very special girl, her name is Lena,” she heard herself saying before Lucifer started playing the first few bars to Total Eclipse of the Heart.

Watching the video it was clear as day from her body language and singing how special Lena was to her and while this was a good thing, she did want the greeny-eyed genius, she hadn’t intended for her singing to the absent beauty to become quite so public.

“Oh shiitake-mushrooms!” she cursed and opened the message from Kate which was not as, let’s say, tactfully put as Barry’s.

So how was Narnia? Also how come I didn’t know you could sing sunshine? So much for me being a detective I guess. Call me if you need to talk the text from her cowled friend in Gotham read followed by a winky face and she wanted to crawl under the covers and die.

Love you and I’m here when you need to talk the message from Alex read. It was in a reply from one she'd sent at 4 AM which read, I'm bi or maybe pan and drunk and dancing with a girl! Don't tell Lena!?! and she smiled despite how gosh-darned awkward this all was.

The rest of her friends' messages were more along the lines of lovably mocking in their comments or outright praising her performance, but the one person who hadn’t texted her was Lena. Not that she’d had a text from the former CEO in ages anyways.

“I want Lena,” she repeated what she’d confessed to Lucifer the night before to herself and it still rang true in her heart and mind.

But if last night had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t just want to be friends with Lena again. No, she wanted to fly there and kiss the stubborn woman senseless after talking some sense into her thick skull. They’d both made mistakes but for Rao's sake, they weren’t teenagers.

Thinking about how to best approach getting to Lena as she munched on her apple before rolling off the bed. Giving a loud groan before gabbing the water bottle and chugging it to try to relieve her hangover because whatever was in the drinks at Lux wasn’t of this Earth that was for sure. Then a hot shower and room-service by an open window with the sun on her skin took care of the rest of her hangover.

Making the tactical decision of ignoring her phone, aside from sending a thank you text to Alex and sending ones that read something to the effect of; I’ll get you next time you do something stupid to Barry and Kate. It was almost time to leave the safety of the hotel room, so she packed up her carry-on and got on the flight back home. Of course, she would have preferred to fly home under her own power but CatCo was paying for her tickets and it would look weird if she didn’t use them.

Admittedly, the radio silence while on the plane was a welcome diversion too because it gave her time to think and to plan out her next moves. Getting Lana to see that she was truly sorry would require more than moping around like some heartbroken teenager, she was Kara Zor-El for Rao’s sake and it was time to act like it. Once she landed in National City, she headed straight for the nearest place to change into her Supergirl suit.

Lena would still be at work of course but that meant that she had time to put her plan into action. Drawing in a deep breath before taking off towards the sky she rose higher and higher until she broke free of the bonds of Earth. Her destination was a small asteroid, though covered in eons worth of dust it was in fact made of a special type of crystal and she needed one. Cutting a piece from the astroid using her heat-vision, she turned the crystal over in her hands and inspected it, this would do nicely.

Looking at the stars and then to the Sun, she smiled, feeling the rays of the yellow sun kiss her skin. Lena was her Sun, and she's been in an eclipse for far too long. It was well overdue she fixed that.

Returning from near-Earth space, she crashed through Earth’s atmosphere on course for the Fortress of Solitude. Lena had been here not so long ago and even in the cold of the Artic the woman had been stunning and she swore that one day she would bring her back here. Shaking away her day-dreams, she took her freshly harvested crystal and plugged it into one of the pillar style consoles that dotted the Fortress.

“Format this crystal and download all data on Krypton to it along with all information on my personal history,” she instructed the Fortress’s system and the crystal started pulsating with a faint blue light.

While the crystal was being prepared, she started zooming around the fortress, constructing a small device that would be able to read and display the information on the crystal. Combing information in the Fortress’s archives with her own living knowledge from Krypton the small metallic device took shape.

“Data upload complete Kara Zor-El,” the Fortress droned and the crystal now pulsating with blue light popped out of the console.

“Thank you,” she said slipped it into the reader she’d constructed. The entirety of Krypton’s history flashed before her along with her own family’s history.

Time for the final steps of her plan. Flying back to National City she stopped at a cute little stationery store while in full costume. There she bought a card and a box along with some red ribbon. The star-truck cashier was very helpful and as a matter of fact, so was the florist across the street when she asked him for a single longstemmed red rose.

It was getting dark so Lena would be back home by now and she had everything ready. The gift was wrapped, the card was written, and the rose would indicate that this wasn’t just a friendly gesture, she hoped. Taking another one of those deep breaths she flew to Lena’s apartment and landed gently on her balcony.

Through the glass, she could see the raven-haired beauty bent over her laptop with her hair up in a tight ponytail and wearing a blue dress minus the heels. If there ever had been any doubt about her wanting Lena, the sight of the raven-haired goddess working dispelled those doubts like the first rays of the sun when they hit the morning dew. She wanted Lena with all her Kryptonian heart but she had to approach this carefully.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to herself and knocked on the glass while hiding the gifts behind her back.

The knocking made Lena jump and then frown at the sight of her but she was used to being frowned at by now. Waving through the window, she watched the woman walk across her apartment and slide the door open.

“Kara I…” Lena started saying no doubt going to ask her to leave but this wasn’t about being nice or polite, she had something to say and she wasn’t going to be stopped or sent away. Supergirl didn't back down from a challenge or a fight and this was a fight for the most precious thing in her life.

“Lena, all I ask is that you listen to me and then I’ll go,” she said with as much authority as she could muster while being in the presence of Lena like this.

“Very well, speak then,” Lena said with a raised eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I messed up badly and I know that I’ve told you that before, but last night in L.A. I realized something and well these are for you,” she said and pulled the long-stemmed rose and wrapped gift from behind her back.

Lena looked at the rose and the small white box with the red bow and then back up at her. The look of confusion on that beautiful pale face was clear as day and she smiled back at her friend while holding out the gifts silently begging her to take them.

“I want to make amends for not telling you about... well everything, so this is everything,” she said and slowly Lena reached out and took the rose and then the small box.

“Everything?” the ever-curious raven-haired beauty asked and pulled the ribbon of the box to open it. The crystal pulsed when the box was opened bathing Lena's face in ethereal blue light.

“That crystal holds the entirety of Krypton’s history and knowledge and everything about me. It’s who I was and who I am, Kara Zor-El, everything,” she said softly, and it felt like she was introducing herself to Lena for the first time.

“The rose, it’s a thank you and something I should have given you a long time ago. A thank you... for filling my office with flowers back when we met... for buying CatCo and for believing in me and letting me be myself... for letting me write my Pulitzer winning article at your desk… for well everything,” she said stopping herself before going on too long and smiled at Lena again with hope in her heart because those memories were among her most cherished.

“Kara, what are you saying?” Lena asked in a moment of genuine confusion from the usually on-top of things woman followed by dawning realization.

“I’m saying that I get it now and that I want to start over again but do it right this time,” she said and leaned in placing a kiss on Lena’s cheek as softly as she could. Hold it together Danvers, she reminded herself, you're here on the hope that she will hear you out

“You… can’t just do that... not after…” Lena protested but didn’t push her away and Rao she smelled good.

“I am sorry, I will keep telling you that I’m sorry until the end of the universe. But Lena, I’ve seen the end and you want to know who I thought about when all seemed lost? What gave me hope? ” she asked and looked deep into those Kryptonite green eyes.

“No... please...” Lena tried to refuse but with her voice choking up and she could see fear flashing in those lovely green-eyes as those red lips trembled.

“You... at the end of all things, I thought about you and how I would never get the chance to see you again... to say I'm sorry again... to hold you again,” she spoke in almost a whisper with her lips almost touching Lena’s ear.

“You’re… not playing fair Kara,” Lena whispered back and she felt Lena's hand on her arm. They were the shaking hand of someone who was overwhelmed and afraid but she was getting through to her, she knew it.

“I’m telling you the whole truth. What you decide to do with it is up to you and when you want to talk things out I’ll be ready,” she said and as much as she wanted to kiss Lena right there and then, they weren’t there yet.

After a moment of silence with Lena holding onto her arm, she turned away while wiping away a tear and she got ready to fly off. Lena would need time to think and analyze as she always did but she’d said her piece and made her peace offering. But before she could go, Lena, pulled at her cape.

“Stay...” Lena asked in a very small voice while holding onto a handful of her cape and she smiled her happiest smile at the raven-haired woman who had always been the one. She knew that now.

“Only if you want me too,” she replied and turned around with Lena not letting go of her cape which pulled them dangerously close together. It was only when Lena started touching her cheek that thinking became very hard.

“I want you to stay… you’re not off the hook yet, but you’ve raised some interesting points that we need to explore,“ Lena said with her voice slowly gaining some of that confidence that she so loved and there was that smirk. That gosh-darned smirk and she felt herself melting inside from the look she was being given.

“That’s why I came... oh and in the name of full disclosure, there is a video online you should watch... then we can talk all night long if you want,” she said as she felt a small blush creeping into her cheeks. The Lena problem was not solved, not fully, but progress had been made and progress was something she could work with.

"Is that a promise... come on darling let's watch this embarrassing video of you, together," Lena said with her voice sounding husky and wait was she teasing her? It sounded like Lena Luthor was teasing her, then those ruby-red lips were pressed against her cheek and there was that kapow that Winn had told her about all those years ago. From just a kiss on the cheek, she felt those elusive fireworks go off and she allowed herself to be led into Lena's apartment for a long night of talking. Hope had been restored with a little help from the Devil.

Want to find out what happens next look right over HERE!

#supercorp #supercorp au #supercorpau #kara x lena #fan fic #kara danvers #crossover #lucifer #lena luthor #supercorp fluff #repost #ao3 repost #supergirl #supergirl fanfic #luvers #idiots in love

[freudensteins-monster]

I Need a Hero! 

Following on from Ooh! Barracuda!

Despite what Darcy had promised, their third date had ended with them still fully clothed, kissing goodbye on the street outside the restaurant they were supposed to be dining at, all because some asshat let mutated wannabe velociraptors escape from a lab in Nova Scotia.

And though they both claimed to want a do-over, culminating in the stereotypical post-third date activities, that first interrupted date was the start of a holding pattern.

They made reservations at another nice restaurant and Bucky walked Darcy to her room at the tower. They made out against the door – the inside of the door, as the hallway had hears, and high resolution cameras – but then Bucky cut it short claiming he had an early training session at the upstate facility in the morning.

Okay, thought Darcy. Except she learnt later on that he had volunteered for it the morning of their date.

The following weekend JARVIS found them an old school dance hall and the pair got dressed up in their 1940’s finest and went out dancing. Bucky walked her to her door again, and again cut their goodbye kiss short claiming tiredness because of the training upstate, and the travel, and the dancing.

Fine. Except Steve had mentioned two days later that Bucky had been putting extra sessions in at the tower gym – including the night of their dance hall date.

Darcy invited him around for a home cooked meal and suggested they watch something from Bucky’s “must see movies of the last 100 years” list. She instigated a little Netflix and Chill action, only for Bucky to put the brakes on claiming he wanted to see how the movie ended.

Really? It’s not like they couldn’t have paused the damn thing, Darcy would grumble to Jane later.

For their next date she pulled out the big guns: a slinky, sleeveless, little black dress that showed even more skin than the blue-grey number that had prompted Bucky to ask her out. When she opened the door Bucky’s knees almost buckled at the sight of her (or the girls) and Darcy thought she was on to a winner. She was flirty and affectionate on the way down to the lobby, and Bucky seemed to be reciprocating, but of course, their luck being what it was, the second he opened the car door for her his phone rang with an emergency Assemble.

Fair enough. He couldn’t fake an Assemble, but he didn’t have to look so damn relieved about it.

The mission took three days and when Bucky returned Darcy was caught in the middle of Jane’s latest breakthrough, so it ended up being a full week after their last failed date before they could reschedule. This also gave Darcy plenty of time to plan a course of action to address the elephant in the room, which basically boiled down to “talk about it like mature adults in an adult relationship”.

“This suuuucks,” Darcy groaned to her empty apartment as she waited for Bucky to knock on her door.  Thankfully she didn’t have to wait too long; a minute later and she would have chickened out.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you like crazy this week.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy week,” she joked lamely, as Bucky made himself comfortable on her couch.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind tonight? I was thinking we could try that Caribbean ramen place Tony was going on about and maybe start one of those Star Wars trilogies everyone seems to love. Sam wants to watch them at the next team movie night, but you know he and Clint will just talk over them and it’ll just ruin my first viewing.”

“Speaking of firsts,” Darcy interjected, grasping at any excuse to get the crappy portion of their evening over with. “Do you not want to have sex with me?” Bucky balked and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. Darcy cursed herself for having the subtlety of Thor’s hammer, but sat as close to him as she dared and powered on. “Considering how you were looking at me the day you asked me out, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you find me attractive, but you keep pulling away from me when things get hot and heavy, and I know you’ve been making up excuses so you can cut out early. So… what is it? Why are you embarrassed to tell me no? Is it a religious thing – do you not want to have sex before marriage? A medical thing? Do you not want to have sex at all, or just not right now? Whatever it is, I just need you talk to me about it and tell me where you’re head’s at so I can adjust my expectations accordingly, okay? Because right now I feel like an asshole for trying to move us in a direction that you’re clearly not comfortable with.”

It took Bucky a minute to reply, his mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to find the right words, but eventually he turned those beautiful stormy eyes of his in her direction and took one of her hands in his.

“First off, of course I find you attractive. When it comes to brains and beauty I think you leave Hedy Lamarr in the dust,” he assured her with a smirk. “And don’t go twistin’ yourself up thinkin’ I only want you when you’re wearing one of those maneater ensembles of yours. Done up and dressed down, soft and sexy; I like the whole package, sweetheart.” Darcy couldn’t help but blush. “And I do want to have sex with you…”

“But…”

Bucky sighed and squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter. “But… Nobody but doctors have seen me without my shirt on since I came back to myself, and I can’t stop worrying about what you’ll think.”

“About?”

“All this,” he replied with vague gesture.

“Your arm?”

“You gotta remember that I got the knock off version of the serum; I ain’t like Steve,” he added, anxiously rubbing his shoulder. “I might heal fast but my scars don’t fade like his do. At least, the ones Hydra gave me didn’t. It’s not pretty, and I just don’t want to see you pretending like they don’t upset you.”

“Of course they upset me, Bucky. But only because I wanna tase every Hydra goon in the balls for what they did to you. Seeing your scars isn’t going to make me want you less. Solid muscle and solid metal, cocky and self-conscious; I like the whole package, Sergeant Barnes,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ugh, dude. Don’t make me fall on my sword.”

“Huh?”

“JARVIS, can you play my favourite fanvid?” she asked the ceiling with a sigh.

 “Of course, Miss Lewis.”

“What are we watching?”

“Just… watch,” Darcy cringed as she shushed him. “And try not to hate me or, like, run screaming from the room in search of a restraining order.”

 🎶 Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods 🎶

Bucky knew this song. He heard it every now and then when he was passing by Jane’s lab on the way to or from Tony’s, but it would always cut out when he got close. He’d asked Darcy about it once and she claimed it was her ringtone. Now that he thought back on it she had definitely been lying but he’d been too distracted by her bashful smile to notice it. He turned his attention to the television fixed to Darcy’s living room wall and as the song continued dozens of hastily edited together video clips were thrown up on the screen. Video clips of him. There were paparazzo footage of him and some of the team leaving a bar in DC after they’d gone out for drinks on Sam’s birthday, some video of him lifting weights in the gym for that Avengers Tower behind-the-scenes thing that Pepper had organized, though it was slightly pixelated as the editor tried to zoom in on his arms. There was even news footage from his missions with the Avengers, and a few of his missions against them.

“Is that… is that the Winter Soldier in Germany?”

“Um… yes?” Darcy winced.

“People like that – you like that?” he asked incredulously.

“I know it’s awful of me, and you have every right to hate me for making light of something that is obviously so awful, but seriously dude, you were built like a friggin tank! I don’t know what you were eating when you were hiding out in Romania, but damn!”

After a few more minutes of crippling awkwardness Darcy finally asked JARVIS to cut the feed.

“So…

“So… I hear this song playing in your lab all the time. Just how often have you watched this thing?”

“I plead the fifth,” Darcy blushed.

“JARVIS, how many times has Darcy watched this video?”

“Don’t answer that!”

 “This is Miss Lewis’s 57th viewing of this particular Youtube video.”

Bucky looked rather pleased with himself. “Fifty-seven…”

“Okay, listen, I may have left it playing on loop one afternoon while I cleaned my apartment. I have not sat here and watched it fifty-seven times.”

“I can remember at least four separate instances where I’ve walked past your lab and interrupted this song.”

“So? That’s just four times.”

 “Miss Lewis also asks me to loop her into gym’s security footage whenever you and one of your teammates are sparring.”

“JARVIS? What the hell?” Darcy screeched as Bucky doubled over with laughter.

 “I apologise, Miss Lewis. I just thought Sergeant Barnes would appreciate having all the evidence at his disposal.”

“Go away, JARVIS.” Darcy sighed and tried not to combust from blushing as Bucky chuckled at her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. As you can see from Exhibits A through to like friggin J: I find you stupidly attractive. So, you don’t have to worry about me being upset about your scars from an aesthetic point of view, because if it’s not painfully obviously, I want to see you naked. Real bad.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to blush. “Can I kiss you, doll?”

“Please,” she begged with relieved smile. “Anything to stop me from embarrassing myself further.”

They started tentatively at first, but soon things started moving in a horizontal direction, with hands toying at the hems of shirts and brushing over zippers, and Bucky pulled back. Darcy did her damndest not to let her disappointment show and waited patiently for Bucky to tell her how he was feeling.

“Do you think we could, uh, relocate?” he asked, surprising her as he tilted his head towards her bedroom door. “I don’t know if I’ll want to… I mean, we can try…” he stammered.

“Whatever you’re okay with. Whatever you want,” Darcy promised.

Bucky swooped in for another kiss before lifting Darcy up off the couch in one smooth movement, smiling like an idiot as she giggled in his arms.

“JARVIS, play us out.”

🎶 Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat / It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet / I need a hero! 🎶  

#i need a hero #wintershock #mutual objectification #darcy lewis x bucky barnes #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #freudensteins-fics

[bennguintweets]

One Shot: Stupid Love

Requested by anon: “Can u do a short little thingy set when Tyler & Jamie were still playing and Jamie takes a really dirty hit while Tyler is on the bench just watching? Like Jamie is too injured to retaliate so Jordie and a few others come to his defense but maybe tell the story from Tyler's pov because he can hear the other player yelling homophobic slurs at Jamie while he's down? Bonus points if said player looks right at Tyler while insulting Jamie cause he "knows" about the 2 of them?”

Author’s Note: While I did use some factual information, the dialogue is completely fabricated by yours truly to fit the prompt. Please remember that and do not hold grudges against players who seemed cruel in this one shot. Someone had to be the bad guy, and this was just how it played out in my head. Also, big thank you to my good friend who improved the ish out of my grammar before I posted this, because it needed some serious work. Sorry it’s been a year to date since I wrote my last one shot. Life, man, it’s cray. Enjoy! 

~~~~~

Jamie heard a quick rap of knuckles on his hotel room door. It startled him, as he wasn’t expecting anyone, but by the rhythm of the knock, he already knew who was on the other side of it.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon. Okay, love you, too. Bye.” Jamie tapped his phone screen with his thumb to end the call before lightly jogging to the door.  He checked through the peephole just to confirm the identity of his visitor. He was, in fact, correct but frowned slightly by the disheveled appearance of his friend who was normally beaming at all times.

When Jamie opened the door, however, he received a completely different expression, as Tyler was giving Jamie his infamous smirk now.

“Hey, Segs?” He didn’t mean for it to come out like it was a question.

“Whatcha doing?” Tyler asked while brushing past Jamie to enter the room.

“Sure, come on in,” Jamie teased and rolled his eyes while letting the door shut on its own. “Just got off the phone with my mom.” By the time Jamie turned around to face Tyler, he was already cozied up in Jamie’s bed.

“Wow, you’re having a crazy night,” Tyler smirked, scrolling through his phone with his feet crossed at the foot of Jamie’s bed. Jamie observed Tyler closely. Even though he was still standing by the door, he could see that Tyler’s cheeks were flushed and his skin was paler than usual.

“She always calls to make sure the flight went smoothly. We never travelled much growing up. Didn’t need to really. So she gets nervous now that I fly all the time,” Jamie explained. His cheeks heated in embarrassment immediately after his ramble because Tyler didn’t acknowledge him. He likely thought Jamie was lame, or weird. Probably both, actually.

“But, the night is still young. Want to go somewhere?” Jamie asked in a hopeful voice, feeling the need to redeem himself.

“No, actually I, uh…kinda wanted to hang out here with you… if that’s okay?” Tyler asked shyly. Jamie had never seen Tyler like this before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Oh, um, sure,” Jamie hummed, unable to keep the surprised tone out of his voice.

Tyler sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, this is… stupid. I can go. I’m sure you want your alone time. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Tyler sat up straight, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to push himself up. But before he could finish standing up, Jamie was over at his side with a hand on his bicep to stop him.

“Hey, no. I want you… to hang out. I just thought you were… never mind.” Jamie mentally kicked himself for not being able to formulate a sentence like a normal person, so he thought it would be best to stick with simplicity. “Sit,” he hummed and gently guided Tyler back down onto his bed.

“You sure?” Tyler asked, looking up at Jamie through his eyelashes. He looked like a kicked puppy that was hesitant to trust again. It took everything Jamie had not to wrap Tyler in a big hug to make it better, whatever it was.

It was hard for Jamie to explain his feelings for Tyler. Jamie’s never liked another guy before, but he’s also never had a girlfriend. He just figured he hadn’t met the right girl yet. But when Jamie had met Tyler, he’d started questioning things. He would never admit that to another soul, not even his brother, Jordie. It was just… Tyler was like a beam of light to Jamie. Whenever Jamie saw him, he suddenly felt so warm inside, and when Tyler smiled, Jamie swore he’d never seen anything so radiant in his entire life. He loved every minute they spent together, especially those accidentally-on-purpose moments where their arms or legs brushed against one another on the couch. Jamie lived for that, for all of that, and he loved it so much.

“Of course.” Jamie sat down next to him. They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, staring at the muted TV with their elbows pressed up against one another. The Pens-Flyers game was on, but neither of them were really watching it. Jamie could see Tyler playing with the hem of his shirt out of the corner of his eye. Seeing Tyler in the dumps was throwing Jamie for a loop. He knew he should say something, anything.

“Hey, Jamie?” Tyler asked, his voice sounded soft and somewhat vulnerable. Jamie was relieved he didn’t have to be the one to break the silence.

“Yeah?”  

Tyler stayed silent, so Jamie turned his head to look him in the eyes. Only Tyler’s eyes were cast down towards his lap, eyebrows knitted together.

“Do you think I’m… trouble?”

“What? No. Why would-“

“Do you think I’m worth the hassle?”

“Hey, what are you even saying right now? Where is this coming from?” Jamie asked, quickly realizing that was a dumb question. They were in Boston, and it was the first time Tyler had been back since the trade. Of course Tyler would be distraught. Jamie had thought Tyler would meet up with his old teammates and go to dinner and drinks. He had friends on that team, right? Suddenly, it clicked in Jamie’s head. He couldn’t believe how oblivious and stupid he had been.

“Did someone say something to you?” Jamie asked. His mood was quickly changing from concern to protective. He could feel anger starting to bubble in his chest.

“No. The opposite.” Tyler frowned even deeper. “No one called me, Jamie. Not a single guy asked to hang out tonight. Not even, Marchy. I thought… I don’t know.” Tyler sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Maybe, they were told not to?” Jamie tried to be the voice of reason, but he knew the minute it came out of his mouth that it sounded ridiculous and Tyler didn’t buy it. Tyler brought his eyes up to meet Jamie’s. He hated that he could see the pain in them.

“Look, Tyler. Fuck what they think.” Jamie paused when he saw the shocked expression on Tyler’s face. Shit, Jamie even surprised himself with the sudden outburst. He wanted Tyler to know he was being genuine. That he cared. Jamie took a breath to finish what he was going to say in a much softer tone. “It’s their loss.”

“You mean that?” Tyler asked, his voice still quiet, vulnerable.

“Yes.” He was looking into Tyler’s eyes, so Tyler could see the genuineness in them. He figured Tyler would break eye contact when he was satisfied, but they were well past the three-second rule now. Jamie’s stomach started flipping nervously, so he decided to change the mood in the room.

“Now stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Tyler said, giving Jamie his best mock-offended look.

“You are pouting, but you should be excited,” Jamie stated matter-of-factly.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re hanging out with me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Tyler chuckled and raised an amused eyebrow.

“Yes, and take your shoes off. If you get my bed dirty, then you’re sleeping in it.” Jamie said before unmuting the TV. He could see Tyler smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. Finally.

~~~~~

Tyler was in his own world, blasting music in his ears through his headphones to drown out the thoughts and nerves he had about stepping onto his former home ice. The whole thing was weird to him, being in the opposing locker room in Boston, but also feeling at home with the people surrounding him despite only knowing them a couple months. He tried desperately to listen to the words of the song, but the harder he tried, the louder his thoughts became. He just wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d receive from the Bruins fans, coaches, and players, and that was the worst part. He wished it would be one of those feel-good moments with a standing ovation and a tribute video played on the jumbotron for the entirety of the arena to see his accomplishments during his time in Boston. However, he fully expected to be booed every time he stepped foot onto the ice because of the negativity surrounding his departure from the city.

“Fuck it,” Tyler thought to himself. “Who cares what they think?” He and Jamie’s talk last night served as a reminder that he was in fact in a much better place now. He really didn’t know what he would do without Jamie through all of this change and hardship. Jamie had been the first one to greet Tyler when he’d touched down in Dallas after the trade, had never judged him before getting to know him, and had made the new city feel like home quicker than Tyler could have ever imagined. Jamie understood Tyler like nobody else. He was a godsend.

“Shit,” Tyler hissed and yanked his ear buds out. He didn’t even realize he was biting his nails until he bit too far down on his thumb. He sucked on it to relieve himself of the stinging pain, but the taste of iron from the blood quickly became evident on his tongue. 

“Hey. You okay?” came a soft voice in the stall next to him. He knew Jamie was keeping a close eye on him since last night. He hadn’t told him about his little episode that had caused him to nervous-puke his brains out, but Jamie was a quiet observer. He figured Jamie knew he had had a rough night before going over to his room, which was probably why he had let Tyler sleep in his bed after passing out in the middle of the movie they’d watched. Tyler had been surprised to find Jamie asleep next to him when he woke up to his alarm the following morning, but they were a good distance apart in the king-sized bed, nothing weird about it. Unless Jamie could read Tyler’s mind and saw just how hard Tyler was crushing on him. Then, that would’ve made the situation much more awkward. But, Jamie didn’t need to know that. Not yet at least.

“Yeah m’fine,” Tyler sighed, wrapping some stick tape around his thumb to stop the bleeding. Jamie probably knew that was a lie, but he was also too nice to prod and call him out on it.  

“Just you and me out there, yeah?” Jamie said, giving an encouraging tap to Tyler’s thigh.

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded, and he believed it.

~~~~~

Tyler would be lying if he said he didn’t hear the crowd when he first stepped onto the ice for warm-ups. There were lots of boos, but he spotted a couple posters welcoming him back to Boston. It was just about how he expected the reception to go, and now that the first lap around the ice was over, he could put the anxiety behind him and focus on the game at hand.

Tyler was going through his usual warm up routine; he was a creature of habit like most NHL players. While stretching out his legs at the center red line that separated the two teams, Tyler saw a yellow and black jersey headed his way out of his peripheral.

“What’s up, Seggy? You miss me?”

“Can’t say I have, Marchy.” Tyler was smiling, but inside he kind of meant it. Nothing against Brad Marchand, but ever since he found Jamie, or Jamie found him, he hadn’t thought about his former teammates.  

“Don’t be like that, Segs. I know you do.” Marchand smirked and gave Tyler a tap on the shin pad with his stick. It wasn’t a hard tap, but it was a little more aggressive than Tyler had anticipated. Before Tyler could come back with another chirp, a flash of white and green stepped in between the two of them.

“Don’t touch him. He’s not your teammate anymore. If you want to talk to him, do it after the game.”

“Oh that’s how it is, huh, Benn?” Marchand gave Jamie a quick look up and down, as if he were sizing him up. Jamie almost laughed because of the approximate six inches he had on Marchand.

“Yeah, that’s how it is.”

“Segs, you just let this guy boss you around like that?” Marchand chuckled and made a gesture at Jamie with his hand, which Jamie didn’t particularly care for. He found himself chest to chest with Marchand within an instant.

“Why don’t you just go back to your side?”

“Yeah? Why don’t you fucking make me?” Marchand said with a little shove to Jamie’s chest. Players from both teams were at their sides in an instant pulling their respective teammate back before a pregame fight could transpire.

“Alright, guys, save it for the game.”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered under his breath. “You can count on it.”

~~~~~

Tyler glided to the center dot to take the initial faceoff, and to his dismay, Patrice Bergeron was already waiting for him on the opposite side of the circle. The two hadn’t had a great relationship when they were teammates, and then when Tyler was traded, Bergeron added salt to the wound with an interview he gave saying Tyler needed to grow up. Tyler had a few words he wanted to say to him, but he decided to keep his eyes fixed on the ref who was doing his last minute checks before starting the game. Unfortunately, the silence was interrupted by that dreadful and all too familiar voice.

“How’s Dallas treating you?”

Tyler’s head snapped up, because what the hell? All of a sudden he was going to act like he was concerned? No, fuck that. He couldn’t wait to see Tyler go, and Tyler wasn’t about to act like they were buddies.

“Why do you care?” Tyler spat, shooting eye daggers Bergeron’s way. If only looks could kill.

“Well, it looks like you’ve found your fit. I mean you said it yourself, only steers and queers in Texas, right?” Bergeron chuckled.

Tyler felt his heart rate rise to a dangerous level. That bastard. Tyler knew he was going to come up with something snarky, but this? This was way worse.

Patrice had been onto Tyler and his private life ever since the end of Tyler’s rookie season. After they had won the Stanley Cup, Tyler went out by himself for some drinks, because what 19-year-old wouldn’t take advantage of the free underage drinking when it was handed right to him? Anyways, Tyler had drunk until he had felt the familiar buzz and was his usual flirtatious self. What Tyler hadn’t known, though, was that Bergeron was also at said bar. That is until he had made eye contact with him right in the middle of a friendly lap dance he‘d been giving to the random guy he’d been chatting up all night. It was an innocent joke, at least to the other guy, but Bergeron’s eyes had pierced through him as if he was letting Tyler know he could see past the act he was putting on.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He wanted to yell, and get in Bergeron’s face, but he knew he needed to keep his voice down. He didn’t want anyone else to hear the exchange.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Tyler swallowed back a nervous lump in his throat and looked away. He needed a distraction to calm his nerves down.

“Does your buddy, Benn, know? ‘Cos you two are awfully close.” The question hit Tyler like a truck. He didn’t realize Patrice had been keeping such close tabs on him. And for what? Blackmail? He knew Bergeron was just trying to get into his head, to throw him off his game, but the thought of Jamie finding out about Tyler’s sexuality nearly sent him into another panic attack. It would ruin their relationship, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He just couldn’t.

“Shut the fuck up. You can shit talk me all you want, but you better leave Jamie’s name out of your mouth,” Tyler spat through gritted teeth.

“So he doesn’t know?” Patrice chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a shame, because if I were him, I’d want to know.”

“Are you gonna talk all night, or are you gonna play hockey?” Tyler knew that was a shitty comeback, but he didn’t know what else to say without outing himself.

Finally, the head official made his way over to the two of them, allowing Tyler to break his eye contact with Patrice and get ready for the faceoff.

“Alright, boys, here we go. Let’s play a clean game.”

Yeah, there’s no way in hell that’s happening, Tyler thought to himself. He quickly shook off Bergeron’s comments when the whistle blew and got ready to win the faceoff. When both sides were ready, the puck dropped, and the first period was underway.

~~~~~

The game was just as intense as a playoff game, which was unusual since it was only one month into the season and between two teams in opposite conferences. It immediately started off physical, mainly from Bergeron hitting Tyler any chance he got and Jamie hitting Bergeron in response. Once the physicality was consistent between two players on opposing teams, it was like a domino effect for the rest of the players. Then, once the grittiness was present, the need to win the game became so much more important.

Jamie opened the scoring just over three minutes into the first period, but the lead was short-lived when Torey Krug responded with a goal thirty seconds later. The rest of the first period and the entirety of the second were filled with tough, back and forth hockey, but the score remained tied at one going into the third.

Jamie and Tyler jumped over the boards simultaneously when it was their line’s time to play against the Bruins top line. Tyler was the first to the opposing player with the puck, catching the Bruin off guard by his speed. He managed to tie up the puck against the boards, struggling to gain possession. Val Nichushkin came to Tyler’s aid not too long after the puck battle began and was able to kick it free up the boards. After a lucky bounce, the puck found itself against Jamie’s stick with a wide-open net. Suddenly, Jamie felt like life was in slow motion. His eyes grew to the size of golf balls while he instinctively snapped the puck towards the net. Life quickly resumed back to normal pace as he watched the puck go wide of the net and ricochet off the boards.

The Stars’ top line continued to battle for the puck, but to no avail. The Bruin’s defense was able to gain control and break out into a rush out of their zone. Tyler, exhausted from the full shift, made his way to the bench for a change. Jamie, panting equally as hard, followed behind Tyler. But before he made it to the bench, he felt an unexpected, sharp jolt against his ribs, knocking the wind out of him.

“Gotta be aware, Benny. Especially of who you associate with. Don’t want people thinking the wrong thing. Unless you swing that way, too,” Bergeron muttered to a doubled over Jamie. Jamie was too injured to respond, and his head was spinning too much to even process what was said. All he could do was focus on the ice and try and catch his breath.

~~~~~

Tyler stepped onto the bench but quickly turned around to face the ice again when he heard a commotion from the crowd. He immediately caught Bergeron’s smug look that was directed right at Tyler and Jamie on all fours on the ice. Tyler knew. He instantly knew what Bergeron had done.

“What the fuck?!” Tyler screamed and swung his leg over the board with the full intention of beating the shit out of his ex-teammate. But before he could get his other leg over, he felt a hand wrapped around his arm to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t! It’s not worth it; we need you.” Tyler knew Rous was right. If he hopped onto the ice just to fight Bergeron, he’d be kicked out of the game and maybe even suspended by the league, but he couldn’t calm down. He knew Bergeron attacked Jamie just to get to him. The more he thought about it, the more physically sick he felt.

“He… He just-” Tyler’s emotions prevented him from being able to finish his sentence, but seeing Jordie and his other teammates who were on the ice quickly spring to action to defend Jamie helped him stay on the bench and not do anything stupid.

When the refs started to put the fires out in the scrum, a Stars trainer was able to help Jamie off the ice and down the tunnel to the locker room. Tyler watched as he disappeared down the hallway, wanting to run after him and do what he could to help make him better. But, he was stuck on the bench with a game to somehow finish.

Tyler sat back down on the bench, stick gripped tightly beneath his gloves. He felt completely helpless, which made his jaw clench. Tyler knew the next time he stepped onto the ice he had to have his revenge. That was the only thing in his control right now. He was determined, more than ever, to make the Bruins regret it.

~~~~~

“Tyler, first of all congrats on the win. How does it feel to get the game winning goal, not only against your former team but in an intense game like that?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean it’s obviously nice to win against your old team. Especially in a heated game like that. When your captain takes a bad hit you want to win that much more.” Tyler hummed, trying to keep the anger he still had at bay.

“When Jamie exited the game after taking the butt end of Bergeron’s stick, what was the message to the rest of the team going into the final minutes of the game?”

“Finish the game. Jamie couldn’t be there to fight with us, so we knew we needed to fight for him. I thought we obviously responded well, and I’m glad we didn’t let them take the game after taking our captain from us.” Tyler ignored the bewildered expressions he got in response to his non-cookie cutter answer. He could care less if the Bruins saw this interview. Actually, he wanted them to see it.

“Tyler, last question. What did you think about Kari Lehtonen’s performance in the net tonight?”

“It was everything. He kept us in the game, and I wish we could have given him some more breathing room, but he stood on his head and didn’t allow anything past him.”

“Thanks, Tyler.”

“Thanks,” Tyler parroted before getting back to peeling his sweaty equipment off his body.

Instead of hitting the showers, Tyler slipped back into his warm-up clothes and made his way down the hall to the medical room. When he walked in, he saw Jamie sitting back against the examination bench with an ice pack wrapped around his ribs. Jamie turned his head when he felt another presence in the room, a smile spreading on his lips when he saw who it was. 

“Hell of a wrister, Segs,” Jamie croaked out. Hearing the pain still evident in Jamie’s voice made Tyler want to cry.

“You gonna be okay?” Tyler asked. He didn’t want to talk about himself. In fact, feeling like Jamie’s injury was his fault caused Tyler to be disgusted with himself.

“I’m fine, just some bruised ribs,” Jamie replied while looking down at his ice pack covered ribs.

“How long will you be out?” Tyler’s voice was quiet, scared to hear the answer.

“I don’t know. They said we’d monitor it tonight and make a decision tomorrow. I’m sure I won’t miss the game,” Tyler could tell Jamie was lying, positive Jamie was trying to protect him, to not let Tyler’s concern grow. He made a mental note to ask the doctor on his way out what timeframe for recovery he’d actually given Jamie.

Tyler crossed his arms over his chest and nodded slowly. He was glad Jamie’s condition wasn’t worse, but he still couldn’t shake the ache in his own chest. Tyler couldn’t believe he was actually taking Bergeron’s words to heart right now, but he couldn’t disagree with it. He wanted to tell Jamie exactly why Bergeron hated him so much, and he wanted more than anything to tell Jamie how he really felt about him because Jamie did deserve to know.

“Tyler,” Jamie said softly, “what’s wrong?” Tyler mentally kicked himself for allowing his body language and facial expression to be read like a book.

“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” Tyler sighed and leaned against the doorway. He cast his eyes downwards so he didn’t have to make eye contact with Jamie’s concerned stare.

“It’s hockey, Tyler. It happens.”

“That wasn’t hockey. That was a cheap shot against the wrong person,” Tyler argued. “I don’t know why he didn’t just come after me. I’m sorry you had to pay the price for my battle.”

“Your battle is my battle, Segs.”

Tyler snapped his eyes up to look at Jamie, because that response? How could he not? God, why did Jamie have to be so noble? And so damn attractive while looking at Tyler with his body all banged up from protecting him. If this was a rom-com, they’d be making out by now. But it’s not, and Tyler needed to stop picturing it while making eye contact with Jamie.

“I’m your captain, dummy. It’s what I do,” Jamie chuckled and tossed a small wad of tape in Tyler’s direction, as if to say ‘lighten up.’

Tyler let out a sigh of relief, or was it disappointment? Either way, he forced a small smile and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Chubbs,” Tyler teased, gently tossing the tape ball back at him to avoid injuring Jamie more. “You ready to get on the bus?”

“I still need a minute. Save me a seat?”

“’Course,” Tyler answered, and Jamie smiled in return. Tyler turned out of the room, shaking his head as he walked back to the locker room to gather his things.

“Well, fuck,” Tyler thought to himself. “Stupid love.” 

#bennguin #oneshot #jamiebenn #tyler seguin #dallas stars #au

[omega-deku]

So I would love to progress on my art and try comics any tips? ÙwÚ

Hi! I’m so sorry about the late reply. D: I hope you don’t mind if I take this opportunity to address all the anon messages about how we can improve as artists. 

I have a tough time answering this question because there is so much I need to learn. I’m super flattered that some of you feel that my art is good enough to ask me for tips, first of all!! So thank you, guys.

It’s a struggle because I only recently started taking up art again. So I’ve forgotten a lot of the things. So I’m probably not the best person to ask about this.

I used to draw all the time as a kid, but after high school, I stopped drawing. I stopped drawing for almost a decade, pretty much. I really regret it. I feel like I could have come such a long way if I did keep going. My parents really discouraged me from pursuing art, even just as a hobby, too. Even when I left home (I’m back now tho), my ex-spouse, greatly discouraged me from doing art too. I mean, “proper” art. They told me my art wasn’t “real art” because it’s not studio art, it’s “sellout” art, like anime/cartoons/fanart. I had even worse self-esteem as I do now, and I listened to them and gave up. I convinced myself I hated drawing. 

Please don’t deny yourself things that make you feel engaged and connected. If drawing makes you feel good, if it makes you not realize how much time has passed and makes you feel like you’re accomplishing things, even little by little, please don’t stop. Even if you suffer from depression and feel like things like this are pointless, remember that just doing things in general will help you. Drawing is an awesome way to get into the flow state. To me personally, it’s almost like a meditative state and I find it helpful in dealing with chronic pain and mental health issues. 

Anyways, I’ll try to compile some advice sort of things.

ART IN GENERAL

1. Draw what you enjoy! I think the most important thing is to draw what you like. It’s okay if it’s “dumb stuff”. Draw your favorite characters or pairings from your favorite tv shows if that tickles your fancy! You’re much more likely to be spending more time drawing if you’re drawing stuff you like. And as long as you’re drawing, you’re improving. (But still, challenge yourself and get out of your comfort zone!)

Especially for those of you who are planning to pursue art as a career, it’s essential that you don’t view practicing art as a chore. 

2. Draw from life. If you really want to take your art to the next level, drawing from life is vital! I think many of us have come across artists who are just amazing, but there are things that look a little “off”. For example, the anatomy doesn’t look quite right, or the perspective is a little wonky. Things like that can be a tell that they’ve learned to draw from other people’s art rather than from life. Or just haven’t practiced the basics enough. (My art isn’t amazing or anything close to that lmao, but it definitely suffers from this. I need lots of life drawing practice.)

There is nothing wrong with learning from your favorite artists, but to really train your “artist’s eye”, you need to strip away all the stylistic choices and go back to the basics. Training that Eye is one of the most crucial things you could do as an artist. 

Just take a piece of paper, a pencil and start drawing what you see. If you can, take figure drawing classes at your local community college, or draw the animals you see at the zoo. Sit on a bench and draw the scenery in front of you. Over time, you’ll start to recognize common patterns, simplify/think of things in terms of lines and shapes.

If you can’t afford a class or have the ability to go outside easily, drawing from photographs can be the next best thing. (See the Resources below for an online figure drawing tool.) I’m not experienced enough to definitively say why this isn’t the #1 idea, but from what I hear, there are things that you’ll miss out on, such as subtle shifts in shadows, colors, and other things that will happen from small movements in pose changes, a cloud moving, or whatever else. A different “feel”, if you will.

With the digital art boom, a lot of artists are learning how to do cool digital effects and fancy things, but forgoing basic anatomy, perspective, shading, etc. Which is all fine if you’re just having fun, but isn’t the best idea if you’re really serious about improving. Practice the fundamentals!

(If you have been dreaming about CalArts at one point like I did when I was in high school, one advice I came across from everyone who went there was to draw from life. All the time. It’s not an answer I expected from people who draw funny looking characters all day. You mean all these people who draw such simplified cartoon people and animals can actually draw like masters? Perfectly rendered bowls of fruit? I didn’t realize how much work goes into animating simple characters.)

3. Put in the time. 

It’s really easy to get suckered into just watching “how to improve” videos all day and thinking about improving. Watching how other artists work is an important learning tool, but you’ll never actually make progress if you aren’t practicing. 

Sometimes, the best thing to do is to not think about it. Just do it. 

It’s like when I’m spending a whole lotta time thinking about getting physically fit than just, you know.. just doing it. “Tomorrow for sure.” 

It may seem like it’s worthless, but doing those lame 5 push-ups a day instead of the 20-minute workout you wanted to put in, is better than nothing at all. You are making progress, no matter how small it may seem.  

Make it a habit to practice every day. That way, you don’t even hesitate. It’s as automatic as brushing your teeth.

All the artists you see who have fantastic, awe-inspiring art may seem like Unreachable Gods sometimes, but those artists didn’t just pull that out of their ass one day. They put in hours and hours and hours of work. Let’s not disrespect other artists by ignoring that and chalking it up to “talent”. No one is born with an innate ability to draw. WE can get there too if we practice!

I want to get good enough to draw the things I have in my head one day!

Some resources that may be helpful:

Draw a Box - This is a site for free lessons for absolute beginners. Look under “Lessons” to learn. The creator of the site is the mod for r/ArtFundamentals. You can post your work there to get critiqued.

Check out Proko’s videos on gesture drawing, art fundamentals, etc. Daily routines of successful artists.

Use this site to practice figure drawing, gesture drawing - Set aside some time to practice drawing people and animals every day. Start trying to see things as lines, shapes, and go big. Don’t get too caught up in the details, and tiny drawings. Learning to draw fast (not draw FAST as in speed, but as in capture the gesture in a post, the “feel” of the movement) will force you to do this more, and with more experience, make your figures less stiff looking. 

And it’s okay if you’re aren’t good at it. You’ll make loads and loads of shit drawings until you can get decent. 

I’m most definitely in this stage right now, trying to train my Artist’s Eye. As in, I can’t just draw a figure from memory. I don’t really know what goes where without a reference, or how they move, etc. You can tell by how stiff my drawings look.

Lulusketches How to Improve video - She has similar advice, but her point about looking at “Art of” books something I have come across from multiple professional artists; Her advice on worrying about finding your own “style” is really good too. Do challenges like she said!

Her playlist of art tutorials & advice is great. They’re short and sweet. Her beginner digital art tutorial got me started on digital art (the one with Ginny Weasley). 

Not free ($30 a month), but these online Schoolism classes look helpful. It’s run by Bobbie Chiu. I saw some great reviews and I want to try them someday. They’re taught by artists in the animation/film industry. But you gotta have a basic grasp on digital art/photoshop for many of the classes, I think? I’m not 100% sure. They’re pre-recorded video lessons. 

You can pay more for feedback from the teachers, but you can also just use it as a self-learning guide. 

This drawing faces from any angle video was pretty helpful for me. The artist has loads of other tutorials.

COMICS

I don’t feel qualified enough to give much advice on comics. I mean, I don’t even draw the lines for the boxes, haha.. However, these comic books are basically required reading for some courses:

Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics & Making Comics.

I can’t remember which one it is that I read, I think it was Making Comics? But wow, if I remember correctly, it was FULL of really useful things about how to make effective comics. I lost the book while moving years ago, but it was FANTASTIC learning material. I loved every panel of it. 

He talks about everything from perspective, placement of characters, speech bubbles, how big panels should be, etc. 

If you can afford it, get a used one and start reading! Even if you don’t want to make comics just yet, it’s super interesting. 

#art #comics #art reference #art resources #asks #text #okay i fixed some of the links now #added better stuff

[memaha19]

Things I Want(ed) From KH3 That Re:Mind is Probably Not Going to Fix

 AKA, a brief interlude from Frozen 2 posting because Kingdom Hearts was on my mind this morning.

AKA, I’m excited for Re:Mind but still...

AKA, KH3 disappointed me and I’m still salty about it almost a year later.

AKA,  there are many “my problems with KH3″ posts/discussions floating out there on the internet and many are probably worded better than mine but, as I said, the game was on my mind this morning.

Just...the worlds. The Disney worlds in KH3 bothered me. There were so few of them but they were so so LONG. Some of them were painfully long. Toy Box felt like the longest experience of my life. Every time I thought that level was coming to an end, BAM, another trek to another area. And Arendelle...though I love Frozen, there’s only so many times I can trek up the mountain only to get thrown off and have to climb back up again. There were so few worlds, only seven, I believe, (because we’re not counting Twilight Town or the 100 Acre Woods, more on those later), that I think they could’ve given us a few more worlds and made the levels a little...shorter? A little more detailed and charming? The levels were huge but empty and devoid of the character that previous Disney worlds had in other games. The previous main games had about 10 or 11 worlds, not including the throwaways (like Atlantica in KH2) or the final worlds (TWTNW and End of the World), so there could’ve been some more! Birth By Sleep had numerous shorter worlds and I vastly prefer that to slogging through the same world for hours. Even the way that KH2 had us revisit each world would’ve been nice.  What’s more, they could’ve taken some of the massive time and space devoted to the empty, excruciatingly long Disney worlds and given us more time in Twilight Town or the Keyblade Graveyard, or put a playable Radiant Garden in the game. Those non-Disney worlds always served as nice interludes in the other games and it’s sorely lacking in this one. (And yes, I have heard that Re:Mind is going to let Scala be a playable world, so I’m excited for that!)

Related, I also wanted some worlds from older Disney films. I know the other games have had worlds from older films, but almost all of KH3′s worlds were so jarringly...current. I would’ve liked to see some of the older Disney film worlds rendered in the beautiful graphics of KH3, but, instead, the oldest film represented was Hercules (1997). Three of the worlds (maybe four, actually, with the Pirates world) were from movies from this decade (Corona, Arendelle, and San Fransokyo).

Related, they did the 100 Acre Woods so dirty. It was disappointing and short. It used to be a fun little interlude between the big worlds in previous games, a time to chill and play a mini-game and not have to fight a big boss fight. This was like “hello, here’s one mini game, goodbye.”

Related: all that Twilight Town exploration we got in the other games and this one gives us the forest and the town square area and that’s it?! We can’t even go to the clock tower or inside the mansion? When we first got to Twilight Town I was like “wow this is gorgeous!” and then quickly disappointed when I realized we couldn’t go anywhere.

Related, I’ve seen others say this and I agree: the Disney worlds seem like they’re just there, oftentimes, to get in your way. They feel like obstacles to the actual plot because they didn’t bother to place much/any relevance to the plot into any of the Disney worlds. Sometimes we get little snippets of the big story, like Marluxia and Larxene hanging around in Corona and Arendelle just to say cryptic things without ever being a real threat (that in itself is weird too, I spent ALL of the Corona level bracing myself for a fight with Marluxia only to fight...Mother Gothel’s heartless?) but it feels like two different games: The KH that wants to still be about Disney worlds and the KH that has gotten so deep in its own world building that it doesn’t have time for anything else.

Related, again: KH3 has an abundance of Disney worlds where Sora being there doesn’t make any difference to the plot. The most fun Disney worlds have always been the ones that have an original story that we’re actually involved in. Corona is just the plot of Tangled with Sora and co. tagging along. Their presence or lack thereof make no difference to the story. Arendelle is the same way.

The boss battles in the worlds were...lame. I understand that it maybe doesn’t make sense to fight someone like Mother Gothel, who never shows any physical fighting power in Tangled, but we can’t fight Zurg? We’re in a literal toy store and we can’t fight Zurg as the boss? We have to fight a weird doll and 800 robots? We have to fight Hans’ heartless? Not Hans? We fight Mother Gothel’s heartless? Not Marluxia, who’s been harassing us all level long? I understand that they held the KH characters back because of the whole “assembling 13 pieces of darkness for a big final battle” thing, but we had to fight Xemnas like ten times in previous games, they could let us fight Marluxia twice.  I feel like the other games were a lot better at having us face a combo of heartless/nobodies/unversed AND Disney bosses. But, as the game has really zero interest in making the Disney worlds a part of the plot, they throw these cheap (and endless) unversed/heartless bosses at us and they’re all so EASY. They could have, and probably should have, let us fight the Organization at the end of each world and then let us fight them again in the Keyblade Graveyard, similar to the way Chain of Memories had us fight each Organization member a couple times.   

When you finally do get through the Disney worlds, the ending is like “here’s all these characters that have been missing from the rest of the game” and the Keyblade Graveyard flings boss battle after boss battle at your face without much rhyme or reason. And while some of them are fun, some of them feel like “let’s just pair these characters together and make you fight them at the same time so we can save some time because we didn’t bother to put any of these fights into an earlier part of the game”. I’m looking at the Luxord/Marluxia/Larxene fight in particular. I would’ve understood pairing the last two together, but then Luxord is also there like they didn’t have any other place to put him.

This game is too easy. I’m not great at video games. I’m good-ish. I’m into stories more than anything so I hate when a game’s difficulty keeps me from completing it and keeps me from seeing more of the story. But I still like a little challenge. I have not-so-fond memories of yelling at the TV as I died time and time again fighting Ansem/Riku at Hollow Bastion in KH1, but I also have fond memories of finally beating him and what a rush it was! I didn’t get any of that in KH3. I’m not sure I died more than once or twice, if that.

The way they just let the Organization members hang out in the worlds and do nothing has always seemed weird to me. They’re big parts of the overall plot but now they just stand around and verbally harass Sora? As I said above, I spent all of Corona thinking I was going to have to face Marluxia at the end. Instead, they stand around in the worlds and then they stand around in the Keyblade Graveyard in the cutscenes and just talk. Also, okay, maybe I get the reasoning behind why Luxord was in the pirates world and why Vanitas was in Monstropolis, but Marluxia seemed like he was shoehorned into Corona solely because of the connection between the magic flower and his powers, which was stupid. And Larxene had zero connection to anything going on in Arendelle.

All the characters we’ve been waiting for (Ventus, Aqua, etc.) don’t appear until the very very end, which is a problem with the story pacing. They tease us, very early, with Riku and Mickey trying to find Aqua and then immediately drop that plot point to give us some empty Disney worlds. (Side note: this 100% tricked me into thinking we’d be switching back and forth between what Sora was up to and what Riku was up to and I was sorely disappointed as I played and realized it wasn’t true.) They dither in this “Sora needs the power of waking” to avoid giving us Ventus until the very end.

Just...the story pacing in general, which kind of ties into everything else.  This game has a beginning, because it had to, and something they wanted to end with but they weren’t really sure how to fill the space in the middle. You spend most of the game just chilling in the Disney worlds with very low stakes. This big battle waiting at the end is always there in the background but, partially because the Disney worlds feel like distractions that don’t add to the story, the middle of the game never really feels like it’s building toward the ending, or anything. And then, when you do get through the Disney worlds, about 75% of the plot is thrown at you in the last hour or two of the game. It reminds me (a lot of this game reminds me, actually) of FFXV. I love FFXV dearly, I’ve poured A TON of hours into gathering ingredients and taking photos and doing side quests, but it has the same plot issue. The majority of FFXV is a light-hearted journey about four bros on a roadtrip, only for everything to take a VERY dramatic tonal shift about 3/4 of the way through the game and then stay very very SAD for the rest of the game. KH3 does something similar, with the way we spend most of the game traveling through Disney worlds and cooking food with Remy, only for the game to suddenly remember at the 11th hour that it’s supposed to be wrapping up this big 10+ year long story and thrust you into battle after battle and plot-heavy cutscene after plot-heavy cutscene.

To the pacing point: yes, I’m aware these games have always had slightly funny/back-loaded pacing. However, a main thing the other games had that KH3 lacks is that Radiant Garden/Twilight Town/Traverse Town interlude world that helps push the plot along. Without that in KH3, we get a ton of long Disney worlds where we’re like “when is the story going to happen?” and then the Keyblade Graveyard where suddenly ALL of the story is happening. Previous games have let us experience the Disney worlds for awhile before bringing us to an interlude world which furthers the plot, a la the big Radiant Garden section in KH2 that happens midway through the game.

Anyway, I think Kingdom Hearts 3 was a gorgeous game, graphics-wise, and I’ll still be shelling out money for Re:Mind come January, but after waiting for 14 years for a continuation of the main story line, this game just feels like, after everything, Nomura still wasn’t sure how to end it? It feels rushed and underwhelming and incomplete as hell. 

TL;DR: I have all these thoughts about KH3 that I’ve waited 11 months to express.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh3 #kh3 remind #sora #riku #bad plot pacing galore #rant #review #tldr #kh #kingdom hearts 2 #this is like almost a year late #i've had a lot of time to think about how underwhelmed i was

[humaudrey]

TheThings is back on their bullshit

(WARNING: LONG RANT AHEAD!!!!)

Anyone know how to delete a YouTube video from someone else's channel (or just their entire channel all together) because...

This

Is SO

I don't even have the words!!!!

Once again, your girl watches one of their videos (several times unfortunately to really analyze this ish) so y'all don't have to and let me tell you, this one is 1,000,000x more infuriating than the one when they belittled Uma to lift Mal and make her better in comparison (link to my post on that here).

I've been recommended this video so many times since the trailers for D3 dropped and when I saw the title, I KNEW I was gonna hate it and low and behold, I DID!

So let's go over their "5 Signs on why Audrey is the real threat", shall we?

#1. Audrey's Outburst

So, their first piece of evidence as to why Audrey's the unfathomable dark force (their exact words) is because of the fact that Audrey yelled no as Ben proposed to Mal, "ruining their beautiful moment". They then explain that it would be "natural for Audrey to be jealous since she is Ben's ex-girlfriend", being perfect okay with the ugly "black, bitter, ex-girlfriend" trope that many have loved to stick onto her in their fanfics (I see y'all 👀), and then compares that moment to when Ben asked Mal to be his date for coronation in D1, stating that she didn't react so strongly before, so why now? EXCUSE ME?! Our girl left the Tourney Field crying that her BOYFRIEND had serenaded another girl with a love song, and not a single person ran after her. She had every reason to be upset then, too. Who's to even say why Audrey's saying no? It could be a terrible misdirect on the trailer's part. The theory that Audrey's possessed is swirling around everywhere, maybe it had already begun to take effect, which is why she's "acting so strangely". D3 hasn't even been released and they're already villainizing her. Figures.

They also use the typical argument that Audrey's into titles and she wants what Mal has, and that she didn't want Chad because he was merely a prince.

She doesn't want Chad because CHAD CHARMING IS A MANIPULATIVE TOOL! Ask Evie! Chad only thinks that being king would get Audrey's attention. You wanna talk about jealousy? Titles? If ant character is jealous of anyone's titles, it's Chad freaking Charming, not Audrey.

#2. The Crown

An obvious piece of evidence is the fact that "Audrey" steals the Queen's crown and Maleficent's scepter from the museum. Whatever, right? They assume that Audrey's faking her slumber when the sleeping spell hits, giving her an alibi. They then have the FREAKING AUDACITY to say that AUDREY, a non magical princess, who has been so anti-magic since D1 (with a grandmother who she loves dearly, that's triggered by the mention of said spells and curses), was the cause of the curse. Their evidence? Well, her family's VERY familiar with it, so it makes sense, right?

NO!!!!

Audrey has NO magic whatsoever!!! Did they forget that? The only reason her family is "so familiar" with the sleeping spell is because THEY ARE VICTIMS OF SAID SLEEPING SPELL!!!! And it's not like she could cast it, because, again, AUDREY HAS NO MAGIC!! If anyone is familiar with a sleeping spell, it's Mal. After all, she almost put Evie under just so she could grab her mother's specter from her.

How dare you take an Innocent family's trauma and turn it around to make them the bad guys?

#3. The Scepter

They continue to say that "Audrey" is to blame for the sleeping spell, rather than Celia, Hades, or Uma because "Audrey" has the specter. And immediately, they suggest that maybe Audrey's not working only. You wanna bet who they hinted Audrey was cooperating with?

If you guessed Uma, you'd be correct. All because Uma's seen laughing in her teaser. WHAT?! So, not only do you attempt to take Audrey's entire character and drag it through the mud, you take ANOTHER black girl's name that you've already tried to ruin and tarnish and say they're working together because they're BITTER?

If they're BITTER, it's ONLY BECAUSE YOUR WHITE, PLAIN, BARNEY COLORED DRAGON FAIRY PRIVILEGED PRINCESS PROSPECT FAVE had treated them HORRIBLY.

They end their third sign with the line "We knew Audrey was a mean girl, but we didn't think she'd stoop so low".

The meanest thing Audrey has ever done INTENTIONALLY, was 1.) Tell Evie that she and her family don't have a royal status in Auradon (to which, she is technically correct) and 2.) Tell Mal that she and Ben wouldn't last because she's "the bad girl infatuation".

Jane should be branded the mean girl because she turns on the one girl that helped her with her rise to popularity (which, granted, was for malicious INTENTIONS and caused EVEN MORE self esteem issues by degrading her).

MAL should be branded the mean girl, if anyone! She's:

Dumped rotten shrimp on her former best friend because she laughed at her

Forced a guy to throw a party since his mother was away, knowing that his abusive mother wouldn't be okay with it

Then locked a girl in a closet full of BEAR TRAPS at said party all because she wasn't invited to her birthday party when they were SIX YEARS OLD

Dumped lye on another former best friend's hair because she DIDN'T WANT TO BE COMPARED TO HER

Told another girl that all she had going for her was her personality, so she needed the wand to make herself pretty

ROOFIED HER SOON TO BE BOYFRIEND INTO DATING HER IN THE FIRST PLACE JUST TO GET A FRONT ROW SEAT AT HIS CORONATION SO SHE COULD STEAL THE WAND

AND TAKES SAID WAND FROM THE GIRL SHE EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATED EARLIER AND POINTS IT DIRECTLY AT AUDREY ALL BECAUSE SHE KNEW THAT MAL WASN'T GOOD FROM THE JUMP

Let's see a video ranking Mal's top five worst moments, huh? There's plenty of those to use for a freaking video.

#4. It's All About Mal (sounds like D3)

They start this point off with: "Audrey has beef with Mal".

AS SHE SHOULD!

They use the fact that Mal stole her boyfriend and her title and their families history with one another, so Audrey has this motivation to ACT OUT AGAINST HER ENTIRE COUNTRY? Not buying it! I won't buy it, especially since both parties seemed to have made amends at the end of D1 when Mal silently curtsies as a lame form of an apology that Audrey gracefully accepts anyway like the future Queen of Auroria would. Audrey's even seen bowing willingly at the end of Set It Off, and is even cheering and dancing with her friends as Mal and Ben share their moment under the fireworks, so clearly, Audrey's not broken up about it in the slightest.

They propose a theory that Audrey's absence in D2 is because she's planning her revenge in Sherwood Forest, and that she doesn't have car troubles because "Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather should be more than capable of handling it, so she's only calling Chad to help her plot her scheme.

Whatever they're smoking, I want it.

Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather can't help Audrey with her car troubles because of the MAGIC BAN!! They needed Chad to help with her car.

And I HIGHLY DOUBT that Disney would plan something so carefully since the entire series is branded with plot holes and inconsistencies anyway, so... 🐸☕

#5. Face Off Time

Their final point states that Mal has to face off against the enemy and they use the first teaser of dragon-Mal blowing fire at "Audrey" on top of the castle, and the card at the end that says "betrayal", that Audrey has betrayed all of Auradon. And since Mal only turns into a dragon against SERIOUS ENEMIES LIKE UMA IN D2, Audrey has to be a REAL THREAT.

Thank God they're probably not making a D4, because if they continue this trend of WOC wronged by Mal as the villain, I'd be scared for Evie...

So, in their words, Audrey and Uma, two of the few black girls in the entire franchise who have every God given right not to like/trust Mal, are Mal's MOST SERIOUS rivals, as if Hades doesn't at ALL pose a threat to Auradon. No, Audrey is So mUcH MOre THreATEninG thAN ThE GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD, SO SHE MUST BE STOPPED!!!

I see you, TheThings, and if I didn't despise your channel before, I hate it that much more now after enduring 5 minutes of hell with you guys.

AND, TO TOP IT ALL OFF THEY CLEARLY SHOW THEIR BIAS OF MAL OVER AUDREY!!

Like, just say you're racist and GO! Audrey's clearly influenced by some magical being, whether it be Hades (WHO WE SEE DOING SOME KIND OF MAGICAL RITUAL WITH HER AND HIS EMBER IN A TRAILER, BUT I GUESS THEY CHOSE TO IGNORE IT FOR SOME REASON 🐸☕), Dr. Facilier, Celia, or maybe even Maleficent. Your reasons for making Audrey the villain are pathetic, and I wish I could block a YouTube Channel so I would NEVER see another video from your channel ever again.

I'm so sick of how "mean" brown girls are treated in media AND fandoms. Why does Audrey get all of his libel while Mal gets away with EVERYTHING? Why are the Cheryl Blossoms, the Quinn Fabrays, the Kitty Wildes, and every other mean girl that Emma Roberts has ever played are so praised and are instant fan favorites while the Josie McCoys, the Santana Lopezes, and the Brees are seen as the bullies when, at the end of the day, they're both different sides of the same damn coin?

And if you don't see a problem with this, then, newsflash, you are the problem!

So, I end my rant with this:

And a short tag list containing: @amityravenclawelf and @coco-rena because I know these two are looking forward to this!

Have a wonderful day everyone!

And I apologize for the typos but I was HEATED!!

#disney descendants #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #audrey descendants #audrey deserves better #let audrey live #uma descendants #uma deserves better #mal bertha #ben florian #king ben #ben descendants #benjamin florian #carlos de vil #jane descendants #chad charming #evie descendants #👑 #✊ #long post

[yaz-the-spaz]

Into You

a/n: so i didn’t quite make it in time to get this posted yesterday with the others, but hey happy kwanzaa lol!

also this is in part a tribute to my all-time favorite ariana video and in part a super late gift to @lstarry who mentioned months ago (way back in early august to be specific and to show how lame i am that it took me this long to post it) that she wanted a bodyguard liam fic after this pic came out...@lstarry this probably isn’t what you had in mind but if you read this i hope you still enjoy it :)

summary: A Ziam AU based on Ariana Grande’s Into You music video. That’s it. That’s the entire plot.

(featuring bodyguard liam & famous zayn)

rated: T

__________________

Zayn hates these kinds of parties.

It’s all arse-kissing and fake smiles, meaningless conversations and annoying pricks just looking to get a picture or a social media mention. If he had a choice about it he’d rather be literally anywhere else. But he doesn’t.

“Zayn! Zayn!” the photogs call. “Can we get a picture over this way please?”

Zayn pivots slightly to the right, smile wide and tight, hand around the waist of his latest Arm Candy. As far as the public knows anyway. Behind closed doors it couldn’t be further from the truth, considering they’ve got about as much in common as…well…Zayn can’t even think of two things that compare to how little of a connection there is between them. But everything in their world is a business and that’s all this is, a smart business deal between two mutual parties.

The paps get their pictures—from all 57 angles and 23 different positions, making them look as “loved up” as possible and then it’s finally time for them to move on to the next It Couple making their way in.

Zayn and his Contractual Obligation go their separate ways without a word as soon as they’re out of sight of the cameras, Zayn heading straight to the bar for a drink as she absorbs herself head-on into the crowd of people to schmooze.

Drink in hand, Zayn makes his way to a table in the corner, his security tailing him from an appropriate enough distance so as not to be too obvious. He takes a seat and a sip from his drink, pulling out his phone just for something to do with his hands when his drink’s not in it.

He’s really only here to make an appearance so he’s not planning on staying long, despite whatever plans his management might have for him. Whatever. They can find something else for him to make up for it later. They’re well aware by now how much he detests these things so really it’s their fault for continuing to subject him to it and then expecting anything different than him ducking out early.

Out on the middle of the floor his Contractual Obligation is doing the usual amount of arse-kissing and over-the-top flattery—which is to say a lot—and he watches her fake-laugh and kiss cheeks like she’s got an endless amount of energy, and compliments, to extend.

He’d never admit it out loud but honestly sometimes he finds himself envying—just a little—how unfazed she seems by all this, like she’s exactly in her element and wouldn’t ever dream of being anywhere else. But then he remembers how miserable an existence that must be, only ever finding fulfillment in the fake compliments and even faker (botoxed) smiles of people who are only ever really looking to befriend you for something to gain.

He gets up for another drink, flashing smiles and meting out the minimum amount of handshakes and polite exchanges of small talk to still be seen as cordial as he makes his way through the ever-increasing throng of people on the floor and over to the bar. Then it’s back to his table in blessed silence once more.

He can feel his security details’ eyes on him as he sits back down—well, one of them anyway, the other’s a bit too busy eye-fucking the redhead two tables away. Not that Zayn blames him one bit, she’s fit and by the looks of it eye-fucking the guy right back. Not to mention this party’s boring as all hell and there’s about as much chance of Zayn’s life actually being endangered as there is of anyone with less than six figures to their name even daring to show their face here. Which is to say none.

Zayn smirks to himself as he sips at his jack and coke. Looks like more than one of his bodyguards will be getting some tonight.

~

An hour and a half into the party and Zayn’s about reached his limit of meaningless social interaction. He’s been planning to slip out for a while but just for sport, and maybe a little for his own amusement, he waits till the one moment his security’s attention is elsewhere. One of them in particular anyway.

He leaves his half-finished glass on the table so they know he hasn’t just gotten up for another drink and slips out the service door that opens to the back alley of the building. The night air is cool against his face, slightly flushed from the four jack and cokes, but that’s his normal at parties like this. Just enough to take the edge off and make it a little more tolerable for a little longer. He’s not drunk, nowhere near it, just a little buzzed maybe. Four drinks hasn’t been enough to get him drunk in a long time. Too many years of parties like this one inadvertently building up his tolerance.

Further down the alley a scantily clad bloke dressed in a crop top and jeans so ripped they might as well just be shorts eyes him curiously.

“You looking for me, sugar?” he intones, popping a cherry red lolly out of his mouth with a sinfully pretty smile.

Zayn shakes his head with an amused smile, inwardly impressed at the business savvy—and pure balls—scalping a party like this for potential clients requires. In another life he might’ve taken the guy up on his offer, after all, the bloke’s well fit. But Zayn’s too famous to chance getting himself wrapped up in the kind of scandal that could surely cause (and too preoccupied by a certain other someone to even really be interested anyway).

Not that getting caught with another guy would do any kind of irreparable damage to his image or anything. It’s no secret that he likes guys. After all Zayn’s openly bi, but Female Arm Candy still tends to go over better with the public as far as likeability. Something that would most definitely not bode so well if he were caught with a guy who also happened to be a prostitute.

Or, in his particular case, an employee.

Speaking of the devil, right on cue just as expected the door opens, and out steps just the person he’s been waiting for.

[Read the rest on AO3 here]

#happy kwanzaa! #(and belated merry christmas lol!) #ziam #ziam fics #my fics #ziam fanfiction #ziamfanfiction #into you au #into you mv #bodyguard liam #a tribute to my all time favorite ariana video

[agentbarton12]

Old People Teenager Watchers

A/N: gonna be completely honest and tell you that i forgot i hadnt finished posting this. like, its been done and ive writen it but i completely fogot i had to post it. anyway, here you go!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

—

the invitation — 6

Teenagers, in Tony's opinion, are the strangest breed of people. He’s pretty sure when he hired one, he was not hiring their mood swings, rebellious tendencies and relationship problems as well, but, it seems “you can’t get one without the other” or something dumb like that.

Tony liked to believe that over the last three odd years, he had gotten better at handling teenagers, but apparently not.

Truly, he was too old for this. He needed to fill in his formal Teenage Babysitter Resignation forms and hand them in to the board of Old People Teenager Watchers (“Parents, Tones. They’re called parents.”).

When Steve told Tony what that idiot Peter was thinking of doing, Tony's knee-jerk reaction was to say no. But then he thought about it and sighed.

A heavy sigh.

Not because he was worried, or because he thought it was a bad idea, no, Tony was apprehensive because it would work. Like, it really would. And Tony knew that the only way it would, was if he helped.

And then he sighed again.

Despite this, Tony agreed to help because he thought he should. He thought Peter was on to something and he really needed a reason not to be mad at him anymore. Nearly everyone had gotten over Peter’s idiocy, if only because MJ did, and had moved past it. Tony tried to, but he couldn’t because Peter kept looking at MJ like the sun and the moon shone out of her eyes.

It was disgusting.

And endearing.

But mainly the first one.

The only problem with this staring was that Peter seemed unaware he was doing it. He had convinced himself that he liked Gwen and not MJ and now, refused to admit that he was being dumb.

Okay, okay, he used to refuse to admit that he was being dumb.

Because this was the whole reason of the plan. After an eye-opening conversation with literally ever woman in Peter’s life (Pepper, May, Nat, Wanda, Laura, Shuri, Hope, Jane, Darcy, Carol, Valkyrie, Okoye, Christine, hell, even those Guardians touched down on Earth for a while to give him advice), he spoke with Gwen who, surprisingly wasn’t upset at all. No, no, she was not. In fact, she came up with most of the logistics of the plan. Tony actually took a liking to her eventually. After he got past the fact that Peter claimed to like her, she turned out to be a really nice girl, and if MJ didn’t exist, he wouldn’t mind Peter dating her.

But, MJ did exist and now Tony had been tasked with the impossible feat of getting MJ to the tower. It was impossible because no one — not even Pepper on a bad day — could get her to do something she didn’t want to do. And since it was seven o’clock on a Thursday night, Tony knew she wouldn’t want to leave her bed.

Emmjaaay

Emmmjaaayyy, hurry up and get to the tower!

It’s an emergency!

Ned’s in trouble!! Come nowww!!!ii

Emmjaay

[video attached] he looks fine to me

TonyMan

Uhh...

Emmjaaay

also you text like a child

also also im curious as to why youd lie to get me out of bed on a thursday, so ill be there

tell the babysitter to pick me up

TonyMan

Auto-correct, MJ.

Please.

The video was a screen recording of a Snapchat Story Ned posted. It showed him, Sam and Thor sitting on pool chairs with sunglasses on, and the caption was literally, Living the trouble-free life.

Tony really needed to make sure he and Ned were on the same page before he did something.

He was surprised when MJ agreed to come over, but decided not to think too much about it and sent Happy to pick her up. He complied, grumpily, but complied nonetheless.

He told everyone of the success of his mission, but instead of being greeted with thankful hearts, everyone started running around trying to get everything in order, which just confused Tony because as far as he was concerned, the plan was just get MJ to the Tower so Peter could do whatever it was he was going to do. There was literally no reason for everyone to act like they were planning a wedding.

When MJ arrived, Peter took her up to the roof and everybody, like, everybody ran up to the common room and asked FRIDAY for the security footage on the roof with sound.

The Avengers and Avengers Children sat around and on the couch for a clear view of the holographic screen that was being projected up. They could see them standing on the roof. MJ, once again, was not wearing her own clothes and had put on a sweater she stole from Bruce and basketball shorts that could’ve either been Sam’s, Peter’s or Thor's. Her back was to Peter and Tony could feel how much he wanted to reach out and hug her.

“So, did you bring me out here to murder me or for the view?” MJ asked not turning back to look at Peter.

“Uh, yeah, it’s a killer view,” he responded, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

She turned to him slightly. “That was so achingly lame, my dad turned over groaning in his grave.”

He chuckled nervously. “Peter Parker: Dad Joke Extraordinaire,” he tipped an imaginary hat.

She held his gaze for a few seconds, before looking away. “Idiot.” Peter just smiled at her back and looked at for far longer than what was deemed ’friendly’.

“Oh, god,” Sam groaned.

“This is gonna take way longer if he keeps doing that,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his beard in frustration.

They stopped their mutterings when Peter spoke. “I am. An idiot. I am an idiot.” MJ gave him the slightest of gazes, before training her eyes on the skyline in front of her. “A huge one,” he went on, “for not telling you I love you too.”

The eyes of the Avengers widened and Thor choked on his Pop Tart. Tony remembered that they never really got an explanation for MJ's behavior all those weeks ago and this is the first time they’re hearing this.

“I'm sorry, but when did MJ tell him that she loves him? How did I miss this? Why did no one tell me this?” Wanda was rambling at this point and no one shushed her because she was voicing their thoughts. As if she had a revelation, she gasped and said, “Was it that night MJ — ?”

“ — Shh!” Natasha said, as MJ started speaking.

“Yeah, you did. Remember, when you then proceeded to ask Gwen out?” Peter gulped at the memory.

“Excuse me, what?” Steve asked the screen. The common room erupted in noise as everyone started yelling about how they needed to know things like these. Tony looked over at Gwen who was sitting on the floor and saw Ned put a reassuring arm on her shoulders.

Peter took a breath. “That’s what makes me an idiot. I should’ve told you before. Like, two-years-ago before. Because I’ve loved you for, like, ever, but me, being the idiot I am, didn’t realise it.

“I knew I liked you, but when Gwen came and I liked her, I thought that meant I liked her more, I guess. But, that night outside my room, I fell in love with you all over again, because you continued to put what you thought was what I wanted as your top priority. Even if it was hurting you.” Peter took a breath. The whole common room was on the edge of their seats and Tony was pretty sure that Bucky had gotten FRIDAY to Skype it to Wakanda where Shuri and her brother were no doubt watching.

“The past few weeks have sucked so much because I realised just how much I adored you. Like, sometimes it gets physically painful to breathe whenever I think about you and Tony has told me so many times how disgusting it is when I look at you like you’re the only person in the world. And I’m trying, MJ, but, honestly, I still haven’t figured out how sit across from you and not be madly in love you with everything you do.

“This is more an apology than anything else, because I hurt you and I was an idiot and you deserve better than that.”

“…I taught him that,” Sam said after a moment or two of utter silence in the common room.

“Shut. Up,” Clint said hitting him in the head.

“If that is true, Son of Wil, you did a mighty excellent job at teaching the Man of Spiders how to woo the ladies,” Thor said.

MJ looked at him for the first since his speech. “Now what?” Peter looked stunned. “I’m not about to jump into your arms because you said all that, because that’s some dumb, cliché romcom BS and I ain’t about that.”

“Yes, girl!” Shuri yelled from the other end of the call.

“And you hurt me. Like, a lot. Like, I was pretty sure that at some point, Scott was gonna kill you. But, I’m not going to stand here and say that I don’t love you either, because I’m not a liar. I do love you. But, I hate you too. So, this…thing, it’s moving at my pace, how I say it will, got that?”

Peter nodded mutely, a large grin slowly gracing his features. “You see all that cute poetry junk you just spewed a moment ago? Yeah, you should stop that. I might actually end up liking you.”

Peter grinned evilly. “Oh? So I probably shouldn’t tell you that you’re the last thing I think of before I close my eyes?”

“Smooth,” Clint said, nodding slightly. Thor silently gave Sam a fist bump.

MJ's eyes crinkled and her mouth twitched ever so slightly, an almost smile. “No,” she said, “you shouldn’t 'cause that’s just creepy.”

“I love you,” Peter said breathlessly.

“It’s like you want me to break up with you.”

Peter shrugged. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into him. “I love you,” he said again with her face inches away from his.

“Stop.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You know why? Because I do. I love you.” He looked her in the eye before turning away and yelling into the night, “I love Michelle Jones!”

She punched him in the arm. “Don’t make me regret hugging you.”

“But you’re not — ”

He was silenced by her crashing into him and he stood stunned for less than a second, before he wrapped his arms around her and he settled his head in the crook of her neck due to the height difference.

“YES!” the common room erupted into cheers as everyone, everyone stood up in excitement. Scott called Hope and told her everything. Clint, followed his lead and phoned Laura to update her on the newest development. Hugs were given and tears were shed.

They all decided to stick around just in case something…interesting happened and so they remained in the common room.

Tony thought he’d hang onto his position in the Old People Teenager Watchers Committee just a little longer.

“How long do you think they’re gonna stay in the common room watching us before they realise that we’re trolling them and aren’t planning on leaving until they do?” MJ asked Peter as they remained hugging on the roof.

“Dunno. They like snooping. Probably waiting for us to kiss or something.”

MJ stayed silent. Then, “We should have sex. Give them something to watch, y'know?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wh-What?”

Tony jumped up and told FRIDAY to connect him to the roof speakers. “You two get off that roof right now, or so help me I will ban you from looking at each other. Get down. Now.”

The last thing he heard from the two was MJ's cackling as they got off the roof. And the cackling of his fellow teammates.

Never mind, Tony was resigning.

#avengers #marvel #peter parker #spiderman #michelle jones #ned leeds #spideychelle #iron man #tony stark #mcu #iron dad #spideyson #domestic!avengers

[thestudyfeels]

How To NOT Be Depressed.

(Or If You Prefer — How to Be Substantially Happy About Life.) 

WARNING: This is one rollercoaster ride of a post. Proceed with extreme caution. For some, the staggering levels of insight may induce true purpose and re-establish their warrior spirit. For others, side effects may include grammatically incorrect hate or aloof eyerolls. We advise exiting if the said group includes you, for we're very tired of cleaning vomit off the seats.

Step aboard at your own risk.

If you’re one of the brave souls who stayed back to join us, I congratulate you for even I am scared of how crazy this post truly is. Alrighty then, kick back and relax folks, today we’re having a mature, adult conversation. Merely another cheery afternoon spent talking about life and its realities. Not too bad, eh?

Before we begin, spoiler alert! For those of you already turned off by the mention of 'depression’ and packing their bunnies to leave, sit tight. This ISN'T really about depression. This is about HAPPINESS. No clickbait. That got your attention, right butterfly? Nice, now stay.

A welcoming, maybe demanding A/N: Do me a favor and read this in one go. Maybe even plug in those headphones and listen to the songs dedicated to each part as you read. It's long, you have the new Riverdale episode to catch up on, but don't hop away just yet because (I had a couple moments writing this, alright) it's life changing. You'll prolly cry a few tears of realization, nod all nod-able body parts in agreement, beat your chest at random instants 'cause the hype’s too real, and perhaps, if it isn’t too much to hope for, finally go change your life for the better. In case you've forgotten, this'll remind you that there’s always hope, that you're a born conqueror, and you were made to THRIVE, not survive. Convinced? Kay, roll the cams.

   To clarify first-hand, no, I'm not depressed although I’ve experienced mild depression for a period before. Glad to say I'm out of it but I still struggle with tackling what I'm about to detail next.

Insert bitter voice, it’s this: My life is nowhere near I want it to be. Though I know vaguely what I wanna do, I haven't yet figured out how the hell I’m supposed to get there, or how my dream life is to be sketched out. It’s all a blurry mess. Which, to put it bluntly, hurts. I HATE feeling powerless and worthless, roaming about aimlessly.

There are many such moments where I hit the brakes to wonder why I’m not living THE Life already. There have been several times when I curl up and cry a frickin’ Amazon. There are horrible nights where I'm shaking with emotions, but they won't release, leaving me choked. (…not in that way, you hoes. Um, just ruined the dramatic mood with a lame dirty joke, sorry.)

   They say talking helps and that's why I figured I'd drop in. But perhaps more importantly, I wanted to hang because no matter how unfocused the lens may seem at my future, I don't consider myself a dopey loser incapable of the crazy dreams or wild bucket lists I fantasize about– and I thought I'd skip along to remind you that neither should you. (Or maybe I just came to sniff the new appetizers, who knows?)

PS: I also broke a sweat listing six ways to get outta depression– alternatively, to be more of a conqueror– because y'all are always pestering me with asks that go “how do I conquer omg send supplies” (Like, imagine a conqueror saying that! Oh, the crime, the atrocity!)

So yes, you're welcome. Have a feast with this litness.  

The main reason behind people being so frightfully sad, I’ve found, is a huge lack of fulfillment. We don't do what we love, for either— [ 1 ] we aren’t living life the way we want to (since we keep doing things we feel we're supposed to do) OR [ 2 ] because Mama, Papa and Mrs. Carter next door feel that struggling is the only way, and project their traditional beliefs onto us. Either way, whether or not we consciously realize this, subconsciously, we're all hurting because of it. Badly.

That lingering feeling of emptiness never seems to leave. You feel drained every night when you drop into bed, not because you gave it your all, but because you couldn't. And so, we do the next best thing. Drugs. Maybe not literally, but figuratively. We numb out this subconscious pain by binge watching Netflix shows. We deaden ourselves to that discomfort by reading smut in the bathroom or by playing dumb video games all day. We try (and fail) to extinguish this feeling of not ‘being enough’ by having silly flings or fake friendships.

And ultimately, we NUMB ourselves out to LIFE for we can't bear to live the way we're living. There's a reason why “How to Stop Procrastinating” posts are so popular (they’re a blogger’s most foolproof way of paying the month’s rent, and yes, even I'm guilty of a couple). We’re constantly having FOMO and tuning into others' highlights on social media– completely missing out on our own lives in the process. We fail to realize that the culprit is lack of genuine purpose more than zero self-control (or maybe it’s both, but that’s a tale for another day).

[On a side note, obviously I did generalize a bit– video games can be a passion for you, watching shows a way of winding down. But for most, they’re only DISTRACTIONS, just another way of ignoring the calls of life by hanging up the phone.]

   And here's the bitter truth about depression: The longer you wait to start living authentically, the more you start tuning out the inner cries wanting change, the faster your dreams start to ebb away, and the more you'll want to become insignificant. And to me, that's the scariest part of this journey to my dream life.

Nothing frightens me more than knowing that the moment I stop pushing, the very moment I give in to distractions and fears, my goals will stop manifesting themselves and I'll be stuck in this small town with its small people eternally. And THAT, I'm certain, won't be any more fun than working your way through a soggy ham sandwich, ironic as soggy is what life has become. (Yes, I have a thing against soggy sandwiches. They were a kid's worst lunch nightmare.)

   If you relate, and I’m sure you do (it’s probably why you stopped scrolling through cheesy fanfic for ten minutes to read this, I know you amigo) — here are six ways to NOT be depressed. Or more accurately, to gift wrap yourself some sweet ol’ happiness.

You're a Samurai and the Following Be Your Katanas —

Hol’ up. The second you reach the End Card, I want you to drop your Cheerios and implement at least THREE of these six strategies. Just follow the Takeaways, I've made this really simple. And as a rule, one of them has to be this one. (Look, don't whine. If you wanna climb outta that dark hole, you gotta put in some effort. So pop that booty, and let’s get down to business!)

Here’s the most truthful, though cheesy thing I’ll ever say: I would be nowhere I am today without this blog. If not for it, I would most likely be weeping in a dug-out hole somewhere, drowning in my salty little pond of tears and chiming every loser’s favorite words (“there's no point”). Creating this blog gave me a definite purpose – putting out fiery content, dipping myself deep into my newly found passion for writing and influencing, and connecting with other conquerors on the platform.  

I meet a lot of folks, whether at Sad School, Mouldy Mall, or Boring Bus stop, who always seem to be in a state of death-inducing boredom. When asked about their favorite thing to do, they’ll mumble “sleep” or “food” like Siri narrating your cat’s evening routine. And then you see adults, dragging through life mindlessly. Utterly clueless, floating like a piece of driftwood in an ocean bubbling with life. My sympathy quota gets overdosed everytime I think about it.

   To spell it out, find something to do. Anything! Learn a language, try some ballet, take pictures of your neighbor's rose garden, make an art piece and show it to your mom, stitch buttons onto shirts for fun, heck, make an entire shirt out of buttons, take a break from reading smut to write your own, frutify your farts, WHATEVER, just get up and move.

And here’s why – nay, not to keep you engaged or make you feel less worthless, not that bullcrap. It’s to put in gear the journey of figuring out what is the shite that you love doing. Too often we get stuck thinking about what our oh-so-great passion is. Get this, passion is energy. A spark for something. A magical fortune cookie which, when cracked, seems to explain everything, gives you the very reason for being alive. You can only feel that fire, that wild love, when you actually do it. So get cracking is all I’ll say!

Takeaway:

Attempt something. Nah, scratch that, imagine you’re in a sweet shop with shelves lined with free samples and try everything. Pick up that Polaroid cam, take that dreaded history course, buy that children’s cooking kit– in short, start working. Pull out all the stops, get curious, and get creative. In the process, if you promise to try hard enough, you WILL (money back guarantee) find out what makes your little heart burst with mad happiness and would willingly do for free, if needed, because you really are that crazy about it. And that, my dear, will be your oh-so-great-indeed passion. Have no doubt, you’ll never be “bored” again.

Real talk, having a dream is a big deal. And unfortunately, I’ve witnessed, rarely anyone has one to begin with. They’re either more dead than the cheap skeleton I bought for Halloween or believe they have a dream, but in reality, it belongs to mom, dad, or Uncle Sammy. Listen, doing something for someone you love (my Uncle Sammy used to supply me with cold cash whenever he came around, loved that guy) is great! YET, if you’re willing to throw away your life to fulfill others’ expectations, convincing yourself it's because they love you, even when YOUR lonely heart craves bigger things than just a marketing job, then you, my friend? Are the biggest fool. Don’t get offended, we both know it, this girl needn't ramble.

Recently, my relatives were over (nope, sadly not Uncle Sammy) and my cousin and I had a chat about life (correct, I grab every opportunity to do so). It wasn't very exciting I must say, he kept staring off into the distance (I wonder why), but what he SAID is what I'll talk about. After I’d gushed about my dreams, he asked skeptically if being an influencer would still be an ambition two years from now when I graduate. I raised my eyebrows, mock hurt, like eff you son, I ain’t giving up on my dreams! But that question got me thinking.

Life is wild. Unpredictable. An unexpected call, a single person, a random BLOG POST (cough) – can turn your life upside down, sometimes in the affirmative, other times not. This variability of life isn’t uncommon, and everyone experiences some part of it– unpaid student loans, failing startups, talent and art going unnoticed in industries dominated by wealth and connections, you name it. If all of that doesn’t make you run for the Himalayas and abandon any dreams, throw in a quick side dish of dysfunctionale famiglia with a sprinkle of self-image issues.

It ain’t easy, darling. The world is one cruel headmistress; it loves slapping awake the daydreamers and wishful thinkers. That hasn't ever actually stopped the dropouts and class clowns from building castles in the air though. And the common blueprint you notice they follow? Let me introduce you to…  Madness. Obsession. Maniacal obsession, to say. (Yes, I'm done playing with my words.)

   I struggled writing this point. A pestering voice in my head kept mumbling – They'll go back to doing the same sad shit anyway. Um, does anyone even read your posts? Lol, call yourself an influencer, hun. Hesitation started creeping in. Then the irony of the situation struck me. I laughed, shook my head and got back to typing.

We ran out of juicy gossip weeks ago, so here’s your tea served cold: insecurities and self doubt WILL get in the way. That whiny voice was just a mild version of what you face when you go all in. Fear traps you in its cage, and those who prattled behind your back now progress to talking shit in your face. Criticism and self doubt resurfaces, so unless your defenses are strong, you'll be crushed. Destroyed REAL quick.

When hell breaks loose (oh honey, and it WILL), your self defense comprising of maniacal obsession must be well learnt. Let them attack, mock, heck, drag you away from the desk and hurl you at the top of a damn mountain, but you better STILL hike back down, show them the middle finger, and continue working. That's how bulletproof you've gotta be. That's how madly do you have to love your dreams. And if you really think this will be a cake walk or want to continue complaining about Stuart being born with a silver spoon, hop off the train already. Your destination isn't on the tour list.

Look, my dreams terrify me. But they certainly make me feel more alive than complying with what every parent said about getting good grades and holding together a roof on my head. My ambitions set me free, give me a reason to fucking live. And yet, every now and then, something makes me question them. A fear engulfs me, some doubter proclaims I suck, someone I love is so blinded they can't see my vision. And that's okay. My defenses are way stronger. The next day rolls round, and you'll find me hustling again, thriving again. All because I know that even if no one reads my posts (the worst case scenario, I know y'all love me lol), someday in the future, someone will. I know that even if I’m not an influencer yet, if just one reader becomes a conqueror because of my words, it would be a win. A big win. I'd have done my job. All because I’m wildly, yes maniacally, obsessed with my dreams.

So hey, cousin? This influencer thing? This will be my dream long after I've graduated. Till the day I die, and maybe even then I'll rise from my grave to give a dead pal a lively pep talk. My watchtower has just been upgraded, so thank u, next.

Takeaway: 

“General, we've arrived!” Finally! Position those cannons, Martha, let’s talk them through the defenses. All aboard? AHOY MATEY! (wait, that was one for the pirates). Step one, dare to create a dream in your mind’s eye. The bigger, the crazier, and the scarier, the better. Doesn’t matter how impossible it is, don’t care how many voice their opinion against it, just imagine, keep a million possibilities in mind.

Once you see the life you truly want (you’ll know, everything will seem to zing)— have a sip. Become OBSESSED for that life. Thirst after that vision, itch to manifest it, and pine for the satisfaction that’ll come to your soul once it’s made a reality. Fall madly in love with the process and how magical it feel when you do it. And THEN, bellow a loud war cry and charge headfirst into battle, shields held high at all the criticisms. We conquerors never cared much for them anyway.

(play ♬) Picture this: forehead stamped with beads of sweat. Calloused hands working their fingers to the bone and eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Conjure an image where powerful beats are pulsing hard in your ears, synced with your own elevated heartbeats, and you’re thriving. Performing. Winning. Guess the secret to that? Preparation. Champions prepare. You can’t throw anything to the winds or rely on ‘luck’ or chance to conquer.

Tough days are in everyone’s calendar, be it your extra cheerful neighbor, Sally, or lone wolf classmate, Derrick. We’ve all found ourselves sulking over an awful situation, scooping into mint ice cream to forget mistakes, errands, and ghosting exes. Yet guess what? The solution isn’t the proclaimed “be positive!” or “It all happens for a reason, don’t you worry” - the key is coming up with a method to dodge the discouraging effect these hiccups have on us.   

So every bad day, I bring out a mason jar containing a knot of chits and one secret letter which is, on most days, kept hidden on the top shelf of my cupboard. I make myself comfortable on the bed, read all my bits of paper carefully, including the letter addressed to yours truly, close my eyes, and mentally fight back whatever’s bringing me down.

A short while later, I get up, now a warrior, and go slay the rest of the day like it was my last one on this planet. That jar is my jar. A Conqueror’s jar. One look at those powerful reminders, and I’m grounded once again, the beast within me now unleashed to kill.

Takeaway:

Honey, go get yourself a jar. Along with some papyrus and ink. Then start jotting down. Document past victories, future visions, fears that mean zilch to the person you’re about to become, batty goals you’ve still gotta chase, reminders that the majority will never understand what it is you’re tryna do here, and how that’s perfectly alright 'cause you'll find your conquerors, your squad one day. Create your victory jar. And then go knock ‘em down dead. Bad days stand no chance against you. You’re a winner, a fucking rebel. Go take what’s yours.

Y’know, I’m perfectly aware that many muggles reading this will whine that dealing with depression ain’t no piece o’ pie and it’s hella hard to get up and take the crown when you feel like a pile of dino dung.

Stop it. Get some help. (See what I did? Like Michael- ok ok, calm thyself.) For real though, and I’m tired of repeating this with my kitten stamped microphone (but I’ll keep at it ‘cause it’s that significant) – whining is WORTHLESS. It saps up precious energy that could be used to make life a scrumptious smoothie. (Loothie? As in life + smoothie? Right, yes, I’m shutting up.)

And even THEN, we find denizens complaining about slow WiFis and thin crust pizzas and how the market’s down and the government’s incompetent. Because blabbering makes us feel important. Heard. But keeping yo’ trap shut and actually doing stuff? Hustling for your dreams when nobody’s watching? Actually walking the talk? C’mon, Emma, don't be naive, ain’t nobody getting recognition for that.

Trust me, I get it. The world is yet to become a feminist, turns out your boyfriend was cheating on you while you were looking up wedding dresses, mommy’s a drunk loser, and idiots are being voted into office. It’s a lot to handle. But thanks to our immense and ever increasing population (we folks really love our rumpy pumpy, can you tell) — there will surely be one chum, facing exactly the same misfortunes as you, but still turning up at every party and bulk-spamming his friends with puppy pictures while you sit and wail. (One Moaning Myrtle is enough, thank you very much.)

Look, I’m not undermining your worries or obstacles. I’m only reminding that you have the marvelous choice of positivity. To CHOOSE hope and a better future when others won't. To FIND (and it's always possible) something to look forward to even when the to-do’s a big snore. To KNOW, deep inside, that you're a magnificent conqueror, no matter what mess you’re in at the moment, and that the world dances to your rhythm. Realise that it's up to you to let yourself be happy. At any moment, you have the very say-so to get up and start rocking. Dumbledore said it himself, “It is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” So choose better, and you’ll unconsciously do better as well. And yes, that being said, this is the last HP reference, don't fret. Be positive instead. (Edit: Ha, look at these quips, the girl's all grown up now.)

Takeaway: 

Your new occupation is to be a sunflower. If you think back, you'll probably recall Miss Honey rattling on about phototropic movement in AP biology. No? Me neither. Point is, sunflowers always face the sun. Put them ANYWHERE, hide them in the dungeons, throw them in a trash bag and shoot it off to the moon, they’ll still turn around and face the sun. No matter what. And taking inspo from that, you too can stop scripting creative soliloquies for being depressed. Happiness is YOUR right, YOUR priority, don't let anyone take it away from you or diminish its importance. DON’T let sadness ruin your vibe, do what you've gotta do to protect yourself. Track happiness in yo’ journal, set 84 reminders on your phone, and tattoo “Long as you’re beaming up at the sun, all the shadows will be left behind” on your boobs. Do whatever, just don’t turn the corners of your mouth down. You’re so pretty this way.

The other day, I was doing the deathly Plié Alternative Heel Lifts (these names, I swear) and my legs felt dead. Gone. Put to sleep like the Wicked Witch of the East. Now obviously, the timer wasn’t not even halfway done yet, but my cheeks were already flushing red like dear Santa, and NOT because I was high on choco chip cookies. I sighed, and at that point, I was so over giving up. All this while, I’d been whining and protesting because my muscles felt sore, but in that moment, I made up my mind. I bit my lip and kept going. On and on. Keep pulsing, you got it, don't stop, was the mantra I kept chanting.

   Won’t sugarcoat it, I honestly hadn’t died this much since that time Miss Honey buried me alive with trig assignments. My legs were now basically Play-doh and I was shaking, fighting for balance. A few seconds in though, something crazy happened. My legs went numb. My grumbling mind quietened and the pain vanished. That evening, I had the upper hand, not my physical perceptions of myself. I was powerful. Flawless. (Hey Santa, do you even lift bro?) Real talk, I was in the Zone, bitches.

I’m not sure if that was the result of excessive pain or because Wonder Woman’s spirit possessed ma bod, but staying loyal to my love for metaphors, I’ll use the experience to explain what I’m tryna get at here.

   Look, here’s the real deal — if all of the greats gave up the second things got frowny, we probably would have no one to worship. Nix role models, nix inspirations, none to stalk on Insta - we’d all be bumbling about like Sad from the even sadder Emoji movie (no shade, emojis be lit).

And that'd be very sad (pun definitely intended). Hence, cue some tangible ways to boosting your grit, so that you can be your own superhero:

1) Get yo’self a goddamn motto,

2) Know your “Why,”

3) Repeat the cycle till it’s in your blood. Btw, Shawn, if you here, I’m still a single pringl—HEY PAL I SEE YOU, DON'T SCROLL.

Seriously, don't brush these prime steps aside. We're always going for the advanced modes, and deeming these basic levels a waste of time. Well guess what, compadre, YOUR LIFE IS A GODDAMN WASTE O’ TIME IF YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR BASICS RIGHT. Excuse my outburst, but listen. You can’t do a hundred bicep curls on your first workout if you haven't lifted anything more than a crisps packet. Likewise, if you simply jump into Life one day, and decide “ok, here it is, 12 habits to build, sleep schedule to fix, man to ask out, let's go,” you ain't getting nowhere, chum. Start small. Take baby steps. It's clearly not as fun (definitely negates the bragging on Facebook part of it) but it'll stick. You’ll create a consistency that not even Grandma's cake batter can achieve.

1. Talking mottos — For context, a motto that I always mutter (my mom thinks I'm cursing, oh what a bad child) every time I spill milk while making coffee is “Do more. Give more. BE more.” Not only does it help me stay right on track for the rest of the day but it helps me clean up my mess, figuratively and otherwise, or I’d just be sitting in a puddle of spilt milk, cursing adulting for real this time and with more laundry to do.

2. Why you need the Big Why — Owning up, I’m guilty of attempting to learn Welsh for less than 48 hours because I hadn't a single reason to speak the language. A similar thing happened with half of my 2018 resolutions, which had a bunch of rubbish like “Floss daily”, something my eyes got trained to skip because, um, who the hell flosses every day?

Lame humor aside, I still workout almost daily because I have my Why straight. 1) I want to feel good about my body and get closer to the confident badass I envision my future self to be, 2) I simply HAVE to sustain my health to live to build my legacy and fulfill my dreams of opening a bakery at 90 and 3) Because I’m an influencer, and want to walk my talk and be the inspiration people need. Those are the reasons as to why I turn up to my yoga mat everyday, shut my jabbering mind, and keep on pulsing. This “Why” strategy applies to everything. Wanna get outta depression? Why? Wanna lose 20 pounds? Why? Wanna listen to your dentist’s desperate pleadings and floss already? WHY EH? Unless you know your intentions, you’ll give up at the first chance you get to not act on your goals. And watch out, because there'll be a LOT of those.

For me, leaving a legacy behind means more than having a slice of cake or missing a workout because there’s a fun movie playing. Find what's important to YOU, make it your why, and go marry your goals.

3. And then, Repeat — Bear in mind, if you're not living your best life yet, there are NO weekends. NO work-shy days. No weak days, no pick-me-up days, no eat-candy-do-nothing days. Everyday is a damn Monday. EVERYDAY is life or death. Every holy day you wake up is a chance to push your limits, challenge your mindset, and see how far you can go. And every 24 hours, when the cycle starts again, it’s your mission to race to build a stronger, wiser and crazier you.

And who knows, perhaps one day, you and I will just be casually sipping tea in our dream home, laughing at how the milk is still being spilt but knowing, proudly, fiercely, that we’ve come so far, even though there’s still more left to do, more to give and so much more to be.

Takeaway: 

Quit quitting. You're, guaranteed, 20x stronger than you think. I doubted I could go through with the workout, it seemed beyond my present physical capabilities. But I did, because I treated it as life or death. Understand this, the second you start making excuses, for being depressed, for taking an unnecessary day off - you give away your power. You are a very powerful being. You're limitless, capable of everything.

I'm not throwing these words around to make you feel cute, I actually mean AND believe them. There’s so much that's been done already— the iconic four minute mile by Roger Bannister, invention of the light bulb, cars, toothpaste and other junk, people who lost both legs and climbed Mt. Everest, we sent a man to moon in frickin’ 1969 (50 YEARS ago), some ran a 26 mile marathon with zero training, love and hope is still strong in this world, oh let's also add coffee and motivational music— and YOU think you can't finish a workout or get outta depression or meet your idols or marry the man of your dreams or become the artist you wanna be? Ridiculous. Don't give away your power that easily, this ain't no charity shop.

(play ♬) Having personally dealt with unwelcome yet familiar feelings of emptiness quite often, I’ve now reached a point where each bad day is simply a reminder of how long my journey ahead is, and just how badly I want to reach my destination.

We finally near the end of this novel of a post (thanks for sticking around, bud), and my best advice would be this: Rather than wallowing in self pity and throwing one-man parties because your life is so awfully dreadful, know that even when life throws you to the floor, long as you can look up, long as you can read an entire book about defeating depression (cough)– you can GET UP too. Let those emotions of sorrow and frustration blaze up into a roaring, crackling fire that doesn’t consume you, but instead, urges you, fuels you.

Lately, no matter how much shit I go through, how many arguments I tumble into, or how barren my dreams look sometimes, I don’t break down. And no, it wasn't always like this. I never even had aspirations to name two years ago. Six months back, it had become a night routine to cry. Not anymore.

Now, every setback and every failure only pushes me to be stronger and give more than I ever gave. The day I made the decision to Conquer (truly, madly, deeply, with all of my heart) was also the day I said a big, loud ‘fuck you’ to every resistance that was to cross my path. I had finally understood that life was nothing but a battle of WILLS, that it was all in or nothing, and I made up my mind once and for all to NEVER give in to depression, or to society, or to anyone who tells me I cannot make it.

I had conquered depression. There was no looking back now.

Takeaway: 

Here’s something no one will tell you: the key to bringing depression to its knees is seeing it positively. Pretend that it's a friend continuously sending strong, aggressive signals urging you to be happy. And what do you do when a caring friend throws some holy light? You listen, push past your ego, and follow accordingly.

And if that parallel seems unconvincing, here's another one (sup, DJ Khaled. This post is turning musical, sorry): it's scared of you. Depression is scared shit of you. Y'know how bullies are, right? Majorly insecure, self-loathing too perhaps, hardly fans of self love, and always trying to numb all that subconscious pain by inflicting pain on others. Depression has the same instruction manual. Your fears and doubts are your (pathetic) bullies, and depression is the big ol’ crony who does the dirty work for 'em.

Whenever you decide shit this is it, I'm going for it, they go paranoid and try stopping you because they've seen no better. And if they succeed, BOOM, you're depressed, paralyzed, your qualms reigning over you again. Don't let them in. I'll say it a thousand times if I gotta because I want (HAVE) to see you conquer – you're so much stronger than you think you are. You can do so much more than you think. It's all in your head! Don't just sit there, click away, and go back to living a sad life. You’re better than that. DO better than that. You’re meant to freaking CONQUER, straight-up dominate, my pal. Pay heed to that voice craving freedom. You got this. And you better know it.

One thing’s fixed like the (beloved by all) proportionality constants in Physics, you will come across depressing mornings and sluggish evenings even in the future. I assure you. Lots o’ bad hair days in the calendar, sis. But here's what you’ll do: you'll deactivate the miserable thoughts, keep a cool head, remind yourself that this is yet another test (better, rap your new mantra) and USE that hurt, pain, and anger to create a fervor and passion that wreaks havoc on its obstacles and drives you to accomplish EVERYTHING you've ever wanted to do. The easy choice would be to just give up, bellyache about the situation, and want sympathy for your worries. Yet, what you'll never do is… exactly that.

Rule 1) NEVER give up. Stand your ground. Have faith in your strength. Know that you'll have your way soon enough anyway. Rule 2) NEVER complain. All it does is drain your energy, that precious fire you could to high jump your way into the clouds. Makes you a pathetic wimp too, definitely not something you want on a warrior’s resume. Lastly, Rule 3) NEVER seek validation. From anyone. It sure feels nice to be acknowledged and encouraged, but grasp this— this is your journey. YOUR life and YOUR vision. Validation won't get you anywhere, for there'll never be enough of it.

Cuz Marty, if you're tryna bring something new, different, and authentic into this world – you'll most likely be hated on badly, before you'll be loved madly (hi, me a rapper). Learn to invite hate instead—IMPORTANT: hate from others, not yourself. Sounds counterintuitive, but this is the real tea: hate is good. It means you're standing up for something, refusing to fit like a puzzle piece in society, and being UNAPOLOGETICALLY yourself. And it’s certainly a sign that you’re on the right path if you can ignore that hate and stick your tongue out at it.  

Yet another reason to never seek validation is simply this: you have to fight for yourself. In order to meet your own expectations, reach the doorstep of the best version of you, and transform this world, you'll have to go wildly IN. Toil and hammer away. Shut out all the haters and non-believers, listening only to your gut. Importantly, learn to accept the rejection slips, validating yourself not with what Molly says about it being okay, but with the reminder that your time is coming soon. Depend on yourself. Validation will NEVER be enough.

I get it, it's a lot of homework, but perhaps you already realize that it’s THIS work that'll change your life forever. Not “how to not procrastinate, Jesus take the wheel” or “HELLO, life's a mess so here are ten things to do (you won't believe number four!)”. Clickbaits don't work, stop believing that a fancy planner is going to be your savior. There is no rule to making your life a masterpiece. You'll have to get to know yourself and your dreams (journaling, meditation, silent pondering), build the work ethics and the mentality needed (lots of work in this one, yet no strict framework to go about it) and GET GOING.

AND with that firework, I'll begin to slip away now. Again, I won’t say it’s easy, that’s cock and bull. Life’s no fairytale. You will never feel ready to start bringing your dreams to fruition. But, my darling (I’m being so nice yo, follow me), you must. You must force yourself to work for the future you want till it becomes a habit, an obsession. The world badly needs heroes; confident people who can stand for themselves so that others can stare at first, maybe even hate a little, but then follow because they seem unstoppable and are, truthfully, having the most fun at life. YOU'RE one of them. No validation, just plain facts.

You see, conquering is a LOT of blood and sweat (K-pop, anyone? BTS? Lmao, this is me tryna clickbait y'all to read). Even getting up will seem huge when you're just starting out, and this is one long road, dear pal. Still then, I have enough faith in you to hope you don't give into your fears, I hope you willingly chase discomfort, and I hope you find the courage to do all that you want to do, while that heart's still beating.

I hope you conquer. I'll do too, and I'd really like to see some familiar faces during the ride.

Peace, amigo.

A loud ass A/N: And now, we come the most important part of this post. WAKE UP Luke, stop snoring, and take some notes. Remember kids, I won't accept anything but an A.

   If you couldn’t identify yourself throughout this post and currently are scoffing like um woman, that's not really why I'm depressed, hang in there a sec. Yes, you can stop singing It Ain’t Me now. You've a very nice voice by the way.

I'm not a doctor, and I don't have enough exposure to know why so many earthlings are depressed today. HOWEVER, by talking to many, following their stories, watching and reading stuff – I do know with firm conviction that a majority suffers from severe unfulfillment. Don't believe me? A study shows 85% of the working class worldwide hate their jobs. Do you realize what that actually means? EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT of the THREE BILLION PEOPLE employed today, hate being employed in the first place! They do it for prime survival, to sustain themselves. And that's just jobs. I won't scare you, but 50% (yes, HALF, you heard that right) of students HATE going to school. Kids waste SEVEN hours of their life every day going somewhere they dislike, doing something they hate. Who's singing now?

People find themselves trapped in golden handcuffs, taking the paycheck despite the passionless job. They push aside the art and business they love, to become a slave of good ol’ cash. Several surround themselves with negativity and get frustrated when unable to escape the choking (no, not THAT kind again, hello someone pour holy water over this post) atmosphere. An innumerable are forced into taking up courses that they don't care about under parental pressure. The reasons are endless, and I don't think I'll amuse myself listing all the sad excuses.

This has always been the story. Hundreds of influencers have preached the same words I’m tryna put into your head here and you’ll yourself say you’ve heard this a million times. YET, you’re dissatisfied. YET, you feel like crap everyday, feeding yourself the same lie that the next day will be better, that you’ll get up tomorrow– while you let life beat the shit out of you.

That’s why, all of my words, everything you’ve read today - all of that boils down to just one single question. A difficult but necessary choice. Will you let this happen to YOU? Will you, seriously, even after this wild ride together, go back to doing nothing and being nothing? Will you, for real, continue deceiving yourself, sacrifice your happiness for the sake of pleasing everyone else, and remain a statistic on a website?

   (play ♬) If you’re not sure of your answer, read: Look, making you feel guilty is not my intention, because that’s not how this works. I need you to understand instead. Guilt wears off, it’s only understanding that brings about change. So, just for old times’ sake, I’ll rant a bit more (ik, just can’t seem to leave y’all).

You’re so, so young right now. More than half of your life is yet to be experienced. None of this probably makes much impact right now but it will the day you die. Remember, on your deathbed, you won't EVER look back and say, “Damn, wish I'd spent more time at the office. Saved up just one more dollar. Could’ve got that promotion before Amy.” Nay, it won’t even be on the calendar. That day, one foot in the grave, you'll reflect and wonder why the heck you didn’t let yourself be happier. Why you took up that lacklustre, soul-sucking architect job when all you've ever wanted to do is keep laughing. Why you didn't ask your crush out, why you were so afraid to walk up to that audition, because dammit, you could’ve been running your own comedy show by now. Why you dragged around a karaoke machine all this time instead of singing your own song. Why you couldn’t love yourself. Why you submitted. Why.

And the moment you realize that you hadn't lived a life for you, you’ll be crushed. Broken. The arthritis in your grannie joints won't even compare and neither will the mild dissatisfaction you’re feeling right now. Those whys will haunt you, they'll terrorize you, break you. It'll hurt tremendously to know that there isn't a single thing in your long life that you could call completely your own.

 With every death today so many dreams are left unachieved, crazy things left unchecked on the bucket list, and unique potential left unexpressed.

DON'T let that be you. Please. I'm still a mess myself, struggling to reach class on time and studying subjects that aren't exactly fun, when all I want to do is create content (read: fireworks) that is at a level of insanity, influence folks to do better, hold crazy world tours and meet-and-greets to give hugs, and get an adorable puppy so I can create a dogstagram (yes, I'm that mom). Sure, I could declare it's too hard, hang onto small-minded and negative people who whine endlessly, and follow the crowd, getting lost in it, with ease.

But I won’t because I can’t take the burden of those regrets. That painful unrest and discontent that nothing could cure, not drugs, alcohol, buddies, not even true love. For then I’d be just another drone, my controller in the hands of society, forcing me to see the world through its eyes. I can’t give in because I’m scared, terrified even, of wasting away this one life doing the bidding of others- folks who won't even notice when I’m gone.

It’s easy to be depressed and crib your entire life. It’s easy to think you’re worthless and that trying is pointless since nothing ever goes your way.

But perhaps, if you rise, if you simply DECIDE to have the audacity to fight for what you believe in, if you work and focus on becoming better, things will go your way. Life will bend to you, in awe, at your incredible relentlessness. Life will take one look at you, wonder who the fuck is this person? How the fuck are they so incapable of giving up? And back right away. And then perhaps, life will be such a blast for you that depression would become the past you never had.

   I know you can get there, conqueror. It’s time you knew it too.

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last Post :— How To Get Back Into The Creative Process – For you, if you're in a creative rut. Get outta it and go create magic!

5 Reasons Why You're Unhappy — To help you identify & cut out CURRENT sources of sadness so that you can spice up yo’ life with some happiness instead. Definitely recommend reading AND implementing.

The Bubble Trap & How To Get Out Of It — One of my classics. Everyone is in one of these 'bubbles’ till they consciously do something about it; that's just how it is. Are you still in one? (Someone teach me marketing, lmao.)

The 5 Biggest Regrets of The Dying (from Greatist) — I LOVED reading this. Pretty much all you need to cut the crap and do meaningful stuff. Read it, memorize it, work it.

++ Want to request a blog post? Leave your request in my ask box! I'll get back to you with a reply, along with the average time I'll need to birth that magical idea.

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure to have you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I'd suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

If you wanna check out my blog, here's a little something about me (y'all know I love the attention). What do I write about? Three arenas I dominate, Work, Lifestyle and Life, they are, my mate! Take your pick!

I post new blog posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you're into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I'll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it's a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you're pretending to be deaf, but Mom's yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you're well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I'm sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#THIS TOOK FOREVER #but i hope this changes u BC THAT'S WHAT IM HERE FOR #unicorn studying #*life #*lifestyle #depression #life #motivation #inspiration #philosophy #lifestyle #conquer #positivity #how to succeed #dreams #no excuses #happiness #believe #faith #never give up #optimism #better every day #quotes #inspring quotes #athenastudying #studylustre #armcnia #new studyblr #studyblrmasterposts #studyblr2019

[caticornsrreal]

Fighting Dragons with You

After twelve years, I'm finally telling the internet why I love Taylor Swift🖤 

Hello, internet using world. I’d like to introduce myself to the few people who followed me. Hi! My name is Christa and I am a Taylor Swift fan with every fiber of my being. Full disclosure, this is a short novel so now is your chance to make an exit, but I hope you stay.

Taylor and my ridiculously furry cat, Lyle

(affectionately nicknamed “rent-free”), are the only two beings made of flesh and bone who have been consistent in my life for the last 12 years. With a close second being my son, Gauge, who just turned 10. I won’t get into the details (in this post) as to why that is, but let’s just say there were a lot of ups and downs growing up.

The last 12 years have been an evolution for Taylor,

and subsequently, for me. At (dare I say it) 

38 years old, I’ve found that a lot of things happen in a decade. Like, A LOT. Now, I don’t feel 38. I guess I owe that to humor, singing, dancing, sarcasm, and launching a successful career that didn’t exist 15 years ago —something that has made me always push harder to set new goals and stay humble. But one thing I didn’t do over these last 12 years that I deeply regret was starting a fan page for Taylor. I mean, ESPECIALLY since I’m a professional travel blogger who makes her full time living from digital content!

There’s been a lot of momentum over the last 12 years

—demands which left me with little to no free time. But I can’t blame my absence from the Swiftie family entirely on that. In fact, I’d have to say, I blame much of it on fear.

Fear,

of being misunderstood, fear of judgment or writing something lame. I’ve had over 2,000 articles published online and in print as well as countless social posts, but the thought of Taylor seeing something I wrote and thinking it’s totally weird (or cough, too long for the internet), well let’s just say I’d be less afraid of walking into a burning building.

Fear,

of being called a fake because the financial demands as a single mom left me little money to spend on myself or Taylor merchandise, much less tickets to a show. I’ve always placed my son’s needs before mine.

Fear,

that I was too old to be a Taylor Swift fan. I mean, I was 26 when she hit the music scene and she was what, 16? I’ve been afraid. Afraid I would be rejected by other Swifties who really are the only people who understand this love we have for her  —which is basically like being rejected by your own people. Also, it’s super weird to be following teens/young adults on social, much less engaging with them.

Fear.

Along with my fear, a perfect storm of entrepreneurial demands, single motherhood, failed relationships (one of which was a marriage), and family matters have served as a constant reminder that my dream of ever meeting Taylor takes residence on another planet. An actual trip to Mars seemed more attainable. 

I feel like there is a whole demographic of women, “Swiftie Moms” who echo my story,

having watched Taylor grow into the strong beautiful woman she's become. Women my age who love her from behind the wheel of their SUV, on the way to drop their kids off to school, on the way back from a milk run, in the dark hours of the mornings when they’re dancing in the kitchen with a full on hair bun singing into a coffee spoon. Unnoticed fans who haven’t had the time to dive head first into the Swiftie Universe. But here I am. After all the fear and all the years...

So, why?

This is a hard one to answer. I guess you can say that after many years of challenges, judgment from others, and doing the complete opposite of what logic and reason said I should  —divorce, single motherhood, a second degree in my late twenties... risking it all to start a blog (which by the way in 2013 wasn’t even considered a side job much less a career), I kind of got to a point where I became

fearless.

I had to be. I had this tiny living, breathing human being who was counting on me at the very least, to give him a life a notch above the shit show I had growing up. Not to mention parenting —which is basically wandless wizardry pulled directly from the asses of parents. It demands that your mini human grows up to be a better human than you.

Yeah, unpack that.

Take all your collective shit, figure it out, and then teach your mini to do it better —to BE better than you at love, kindness, respect for others (especially boys respecting girls), integrity, money, and to be fearless. All while giving them the comfort of knowing that you, mom, have it all figured out... even when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Top that with the pressures of working in the public eye

—which, while on a microscopic level compared to a full-on celebrity such as Taylor, is still very much a juggling act with none of the entourage to lighten the workload. Add to it the demands of working with national brands, and the unwavering ability for other bloggers to tear you down at any opportunity, or even worse, try to get close to you so they can raid your success like a Black Friday sale.

I found myself at the peak of my blogging career

but I was consumed by fear, AGAIN! Fear of shady AF bloggers and publicists, and so much to lose. And fear that now, thousands of people would have an opinion of me formed by jealous bloggers, and they didn’t even know who I really was. 

That’s when letting go of toxic people in my life became essential

—when, no matter who they were, or how I was tied to them, I had to realize that surrounding myself with the ones who lifted me took precedence over the ones who dragged me down. 

After all that..... I learned to give zero f***s about what people thought, or what they said behind my back. 

And I had to start caring about what made my heart happy, what made my family and friends smile, and what inspired me to do better. BE BETTER. Be the example of fearless, with the hope that I was lucky enough to stay that way. But I'm a vulnerable human made of heart and soul and sometimes people can still take the best from me.

I had to be fearless.

In August of 2017 when "Look What You Made Me Do” blessed my ears for the first time, I felt it pierce my skin and course through my veins. And to the very bones of this young 38-year-old Swiftie mom, I was shook AF! I sang, I danced and I drowned out the haters in the blogging world. She had a very clear message,

She had zero f***s to give, Taylor broke the internet.

After watching the seemingly endless myriad of shade thrown at Taylor over the years, my heart erupted with happiness as her flawless first single from Reputation revealed one BADASS BITCH. And with every music video release of her new era, she became a mythical Goddess with bullshit evaporating superpowers. Like, I legit think she’s an actual unicorn. After all, she does ride a caticorn named Olivia.

She got harder, she got smarter in the nick of time

One single post on my Facebook page praising her new era and new single she brought with it attracted a slew of hate speech, white people bashing, claims of Taylor ripping off Beyonce... I couldn’t believe the things I was reading from fellow bloggers. I even had a GLOBAL BRAND threaten my business relationship in their ambassador program because I stood up for Taylor and spoke out about the hate speech which was placed on my own personal Facebook page. But I stood by my words.

Fearless.

Over the following months into early 2018, and to the tune of, “This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things”, I, along with a slew of about 20 other bloggers, ended up taking down said global brand’s publicist who was using his budget and power to demean and sexually harass female bloggers (which would later reveal that blacklisting me was more about not buying into that bullshit rather than my voice on hate speech).

Zero f***s given to those haters.

Mythical Goddess with bullshit evaporating superpowers level officially achieved for Taylor, and even for me. Although I wouldn’t call myself a Goddess. That's all Tay. 🖤

She found love through the noise

And so did I. In November of 2017, I had approached the year anniversary of the greatest love I'd ever known. My last stop. And as the tracks played on, my heart was full. We both found happiness through a seemingly endless sea of anguish.

Taylor is truly doing better than she ever was, and so am I.

Her resilience up against the media and the demands of the industry are perfectly fearless. And her decision to keep her beautifully growing relationship with Joe private is wise. I’ve spent the last year at home, which has been incredible. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what’s most important to me, what has shaped me into the mom, partner and entrepreneur that I am, and it all comes back to Taylor. That’s why it’s time for me to be fearless again and officially join the Swiftie universe.

I’ve spent 12 years fighting dragons with Taylor

and growing a canyon of respect and adoration for her charm, wit, business savvy, musical talent, feminism, compassion, tenacity, love for animals, and of course her lovely, lovely, words. I’ve raised my son from birth with her. There isn't a single day that is spent where Taylor doesn't exist in our lives. For 12 years straight.

That’s a long time to love someone who has no idea you exist.

I play her music videos and YouTube uploads just so I can feel like she’s with us. And so my son knows that she’s one of the finest examples of a human being in his lifetime. I use Taylor’s kindness to teach my son how to be considerate and give back to others while sharing her fearless story with him so she can be a positive role model in his life. Taylor has essentially been part of our family all along. 

My son Gauge has a running joke that Taylor is the only person that can make me cry

(which happens more than I'm willing to admit). And it’s not because I’m weak, or on the verge of a mental breakdown (although I challenge you to try parenting, you might argue that), it’s because I truly love her like a best friend. When I see her happy it makes me happy, when I feel her sadness, it makes me sad. It’s visceral.

I don't believe the human connection is meant to be one-sided.

I feel in my heart, as weird as this may sound, that we will meet Taylor one day, even against all odds. Existing in the same lifetime as Taylor without at least trying to meet her doesn't feel right. I won't look at my son and teach him to let fear and doubt win, or that defying the odds is an impossible task.

Over the years I’ve been a spectator to her outreach to fans. She’s invited them to sessions in her homes, sent them gifts, invited them backstage, surprised them in their homes, made hospital visits, and Lord knows what else she has up her sleeve. And it’s all been done with pure excitement and love for her Swifties. With each outreach she extends, tears of joy are shed for fellow Swifties, and a ray of hope inspires me.

So, I’m starting a personal blog

which tells a very personal story of all the dragons I’ve fought with Taylor over the years. From living in a car at 15 years old to getting invited to LA premieres for Walt Disney and Marvel films. And I'll have no apologies for the truths that will be told (but will change names for privacy). It will be very personal and some of it won’t be pretty. Because life isn’t always pretty.

Taylor is releasing another album this year... we hope,

and she’ll be on yet another tour in 2020. After 12 years I’m finally ready for it. I’ve given my son everything he could possibly want or need. I’ve bought him a beautiful home in Northern Georgia. He’s been able to travel the world and do things most adults haven’t even done. And I owe much of that to Taylor for giving me the strength to take major risks, the courage to face my demons, the balls to cut people out of my life who were toxic and the self-confidence to defy the odds and do things my way.

2019 is our year to show @taylorswift how much we love her.

I’ll let the universe do the rest. Till then, I’ll be fighting dragons with her as I always have and writing my journal for her and anyone else who wants to read the memoirs of an OG Swiftie mom who keeps it real AF, full-on hair bun and all.

#taylor #taylorswift #taylurking #taylornation #taylor swift #taylor13 #taylorswift13 #taylornation13 #fightingdragons #swifties #swiftie #tswift13 #deartaylor #dear taylor