#Like it was something done for personal comfort and enjoyment long before the idea of being praised was ever a possibility

[kelocitta]

"But if we dont get reblogs and likes than why bother creating at all" Did you never doodle in your notebook in class. Did you never have a notebook of cringe doodles you never wanted people to see but got filled anyway. Was this never something you did because it was a tool of personal comfort.

#t.extpost #like i get wanting the attention god i get that drive too #but its this complete absence of like #personal stake? the doing it just to do it? that baffles me #Like i drew long before i was even allowed to have a computer and long before I had an art account and long before i #could stand having other people see most of it #Like it was something done for personal comfort and enjoyment long before the idea of being praised was ever a possibility #like hell i avoided any sort of art major or 'career' out of fear that it would suck the joy out of something i did for myself #and i still get artblock or down and what have you but ultimately people paying attention has never been the goal #so this absolute 'if it wasnt for others it wouldnt exist' mindset feels so foreign #like sure part of it but all? #also this is non rebloggable because it is personal musing and i truely do not wish to fight w/ others over the idea of what #is the right way to be validated as an artist

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 3

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Steve never liked to admit it out loud because it was very un-Alpha of him. But he actually really loved building nests. He loved the back and forth, the cooperation, the trust an Omega had to have in him to let him into that space, into that inherently Omegan trait, to allow him to help build something that only a mate would be allowed to enter.

It was a deeply intimate thing to share.

Alphas weren’t supposed to find real joy in something so Omegan.

That was supposed to be just a thing Alphas did to make their Omega’s happy, something they did purely for their mate not out of their own enjoyment. Steve… Steve genuinely loved making them.

Loved seeing all the different styles, and when he built them with an Omega, he loved seeing how comfortable that Omega was just burying themselves within it when it was done, loved curling up in the final product with them and just relaxing until the next stage of their heat reared its ugly head.

Steve loved every part of it.

And Eddie was just, throwing pillows at him, that dimpled smile unwavering. He just seemed so happy, his scent as pleasant as a warm summer breeze through the mountains. Made him want to go camping. He hadn’t been camping in years, now he longed for it.

“Alright, we have the sort of shape” Eddie announced, staring down at what definitely was not a typical nest shape, his hands on his hips, pleased smile on his face. Steve was nothing if not extremely supportive. It sort of reminded Steve of a splat. Like a comic book splat shape, he loved it. “…We do, right? Is this—do you think—”

“I think it’s perfect” Steve didn’t hesitate, and Eddie’s beaming grin was his reward. “Now for the blankets, we gotta add some structure to it.”

“Ughhh I’ve never been good at that, nothing ever stays tucked in like it’s supposed to” so many assumptions as to what Nests were supposed to look like. Steve really had to look into just where Eddie was getting all these assumptions from, what his sources were, because they sucked.

“Dooooo you want it to be tucked in properly? Nests can be loose too, it’s all about personal comfort.”

“…Should I want it to be tucked in?” Steve felt his heart break a little. Eddie really just… didn’t know. He had no experience. For someone older than himself it was heartbreaking that nobody had ever just… helped him with it. sure, he said he had his Uncle, but how experienced was his uncle with Omegas?

Probably not very experienced if this was the result. Not his uncle’s fault, it wasn’t his fault.

“How about this, we tuck it in, and then we see how you feel about it. How’s that sound?” Eddie looked at him for a moment, then back down at the nest, then back at him, as if assessing whether or not it was a good idea, Steve just waited. He’d already told Eddie that nests were personal, were unique to the Omega, there was no sense in repeating it.

“… Do you think we have time for that?”

“Sure, you’re still pre-heat, should have enough time to get at least two nests built before your heat actually hits, plus… you have me here Eddie, you’re not on your own, there’s no rush, I’ve got you.” This could be just as much a learning experience, as it could be a helpful aid to the Omega’s mental state during future Heats.

He’d know what he wanted, he’d know how to build a nest he could be comfortable in, he wouldn’t second guess himself anymore. He’d be okay.

“Okay… tuck em in for me, big boy” for him. Do it for him. An instruction from an Omega to an Alpha, not a request, an instruction.

Almost a command.

Steve felt himself shiver in delight, the urge to please, to be good enough, to impress his Ome—

No. Not his. Eddie wasn’t his. He shook his head. He was his patient. Dammit. Control yourself he chastised himself. He was in control, this was a vulnerable Omega, not his Omega, he was at work, and he was doing his job.

Plus, it was Eddie Munson for crying out loud!! He distinctly remembered finding Eddie Munson irritating. Where was that irritation now? Dammit.

“Steve?” Shit, Steve looked up, startled by the soft, hesitant question, he was looking at him, eyes wide, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Right! Yeah, shit—tuck em in, got it.” He was fine. Totally fine, nothing to worry about. Not like he’d just zoned out around an omega in heat. Definitely not like he’d just done that. It’d be fine. It’d have to be fine, his scent was pretty much all over the room at that point, his hands had been on the base materials of Eddie’s nest, that Omega wouldn’t let any other Alpha near it now.

Steve couldn’t give his position up to another Alpha. It’d be a goddamn bloodbath if one tried.

So he tucked those blankets in, one by one he kept to the funky shape Eddie had laid out, he put that little slip up to the back of his mind, and made absolutely certain that every blanket would remain tucked in nicely until the nest had a nice lip around the edges, leaving little gaps here and there where things collected from Eddie’s pack could be tucked in without risking the structure.

He did all of that, then invited Eddie to sit in the middle of it with him, he spent all that time meticulously doing all of that, knowing deep down, predicting the moment Eddie looked at those walls and with a little frown pinched between his brows, said “…I don’t like it.”

Steve just laughed, not unkindly, just a soft little laugh, then tilted his whole body to the side to knock into Eddie’s shoulder “Alright, then let’s drape em. C’mon, I’ll show you how to do it, so it stays put when things get messy.” It was worth it. The time he’d taken to make such a sturdy base was worth it to make sure Eddie knew exactly what he wanted in a nest.

Even if it meant undoing and redoing all of his hard work, just knowing Eddie would know, would be okay building his nests during future heats without him, made it all worth it.

Part 5

#PirateWrites #NestFiclet #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington

[sloth-babied]

Stay the Night

Shuri x POC reader

Summary: You’ve been keeping it a secret that Shuri’s been your muse for a lot of your music. When you decide to show her a song you’ve been working on, she starts to piece together who you’ve been writing about.

or

Reader is a musician who stubbornly denies to one of the smartest people on Earth that she isn’t your muse.

Contains: Shy reader, tension, and angst if you really squint. No use of y/n.

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: No, I am not dead! Just burnt out, yk how it is. But I had motivation to write this, so I really hope yall enjoy! Not my best work, but it’s something. And sorry for not being active. 

(Also I recommend listening to The Internet while reading just bc that’s what I listened to, hence the title lol)

Shuri stares at you as you adjust the headphones on her head, hyper aware of the proximity between the two of you. She only nods when you ask if she’s comfortable before the heel of your palm rests on the desk. Your finger hovers over the computer keyboard, reluctant to press play.

“It’s just a draft, so you know, lower your expectations.”

“Just play the song,” she laughs lightly, very much aware that this was a first draft from the numerous times you told her before even handing her your headphones.

You murmur a quick and sheepish, “Okay,” and click the spacebar. Her shoulders bounce, entertained by your apprehensiveness.

You deeply inhale as your heart starts beating faster, in contrast to Shuri who simply bops her head gently to the rhythm, the ball of her foot tapping the wooden floor.

You rarely showed anyone your early drafts, either out of worry in case they disliked what they heard, or if their enjoyment would jinx your chances of actually finishing the track. Yeah, you can be a bit superstitious—that Shuri knows with all the wood-knocking you’ve done around her.

Which is why it was uncharacteristic of you to show Shuri your latest project. 

It presented itself as an impulsive, “You wanna hear this new song I’m working on?” and you couldn’t take it back when you were met with an enthusiastic ‘yes’.

Shuri’s brows furrow, the movement of her head much more exaggerated. 

“This is good!” She compliments you loudly, tapping on one side of the headphones. You shush her humorously, reminding her of your neighbors and the lack of soundproof foam on your walls. “Sorry,” she chuckles before whispering, “This is good,” again.

It’s mostly dark in the room, the only light source in the room coming from the computer screen. The light reflects on Shuri’s skin, her eyes closed when she isn’t occasionally stealing glances at the side of your face, curious about the words you’ve written; envious of who you’ve written it for, though she’s had hopeful suspicions.

Your eyes stay glued on the screen, too embarrassed to watch the person who was, unbeknownst to her, your muse. 

Truthfully, she had been the subject of many of your songs, released and unreleased, since you first fell in love with her. That was two years ago. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the long day or the present time of night that made the idea of sharing your music more enticing. Or maybe, subconsciously, you had to tell her how you felt without actually telling her.

Shuri hums along to the chorus, naturally catching onto the melody and you scratch your cheek in an attempt to hide your smile. You feel giddy inside at the way her body reacts—just so in-sync like she always is with the rest of your music. 

Until the song hits the bridge. 

Through your peripheral vision, it’s hard to ignore Shuri’s head movement slowing down to a halt. You catch a proper glimpse of her, only for a second, and oh, no, her face has gone blank. You feel your chest heave and now your brain is spiraling, wondering what the hell is going on in hers.

Shuri looks off, really listening this time. She flicks another glance at you before the last chorus arrives. And when it ends, she removes the headphones at a pace that perturbs you a bit…a lot actually. You’re left uneasy when she holds your headphones on her lap. She hasn’t looked at you and she hasn’t said anything yet.

“I know it’s not great,” you scratch the back of your neck then steal the headphones from her, laying them on the desk. Aimlessly, you fumble with your laptop, laughing nervously to fill the silence. “It’s just a draft. I probably won’t even finish it.”

Shuri’s still not saying anything and, christ, is it bothering you. At this point you’d rather she say it’s downright bad instead of keeping you on edge like this. But eventually she speaks, and when you hear her say your name, you initially feel like you could breathe again because she finally said something. However, that only lasts for a second.

“Is this true?” 

Your finger freezes on the mouse. You turn your head in her direction but her gaze doesn’t meet yours. You’re unsure what to say.

“What you wrote…is it true?” 

She takes the mouse from you, the feel of her hand leaving tingles on your skin. She clicks back to the beginning of the bridge before removing the headphone jack. Your voice plays on the speaker and suddenly you’re too stunned to remind her of your neighbors.

What exactly did you write? Nothing specific, or so you thought.

Then she pauses the song, an audible click coming from the spacebar, anticipatedly eyeing you. 

You shrug as an attempt to seem oblivious. (One might call it ‘gaslighting’.) 

“I write little stories for my songs,” you try to play it off. “I mean, I guess some are real, but most of ‘em aren’t, you know?” 

“You wrote about our time at the beach.” She states plainly, leaning back against her chair. She’s referring you to the secret beach you snuck her into in your hometown—a beach only so many people know of.

You glance at the notification-free lock screen of your phone on the desk; another excuse not to look her in the eye. “I take inspiration from shit in my own life.”

“And in your last album you wrote about the time we went on that hike together.” She adds. Yikes, you were hoping she wouldn’t notice that. 

“We’re lost in the woods,

I’m lost in your eyes.”

Damn your corny attempts at being poetic. You nearly cringe recalling the moment you wrote that. 

A year ago you went hiking with Shuri, and you insisted that you didn’t need any technology to navigate your way back home. You figured you’d walk back down the trail you walked up on, until you kept passing the same tree over and over again. Shuri laughed at you the entire time, comforted by the fact that she brought her Kimoyo bead bracelet with her, as you slowly started to freak out despite your refusal to admit you were wrong and maybe a map could’ve been useful.

“I hike all the time.” No, you don’t.

“No, you don’t,” Shuri shakes her head, one side of her lips tilting upwards. She leans forward and grabs the apron of your chair between your legs, rolling you closer to her until her knee hits the edge of your seat and your thighs loosely puzzle together. 

The light from the bright red motel sign across the street peaks through each horizontal slit of the blind curtain, and the cool night breeze outside lightly blows through the half-open window, lifting the curtain only a little, red occasionally sneaking under the bottom hem of the window covering. 

With the wind entering, the room should feel cool. It’s supposed to be. Yet your cheeks flush and the heat centered around your face tempts you to remove your hoodie because it’s easier to blame a jacket than the girl who’s figured you out.

You reattach your hand back on the mouse, unsure what you’d even do with it, but Shuri’s hand covers yours, your moist palm now stagnant on the object. 

“You released a single the year we met,” she says, her voice quieter than before but louder than a whisper. She doesn’t explain further. You remember the party two years ago and you know exactly what you wrote. Who are you to fool one of the most brilliant minds on the planet?

The computer screen dims, allowing you to notice the red illuminating on the back of her hand. You see red highlight the outline of her body and she stares at the red on the edge of your face. Then she looks at your eyes, your lips, then your eyes once again. Shuri slides her palm up to your elbow, her grip neither tight nor loose. 

“What are you so afraid of?” asks Shuri. 

You had spent so much of your romantic life dejected. Countless dating apps resulting in crappy dates. Or worse: friendships. Too many “The more I get to know you, the more I get friendly vibes from you”. Too many “Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready for this,” when really they realized they actually didn’t like you. Then when you knew someone in your own life who you liked romantically, the feeling—more often than not—wasn’t mutual. 

Best case scenario, you remain friends but things are only just a little awkward. Worst case scenario, they insist that things are okay then gradually ghost you. 

At this point, you were ready to give up.

“I don’t wanna…” you trail off.

She leans closer and whispers, “What?”

You stare off at anything that isn’t her. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

She leans down and tilts her face up, forcing your eyes to meet hers. She raises her brows. “Because…?”

You tuck your chin and your brows quirk. “Because?”

“I want you to tell me why you’re afraid of losing me,” she places her other hand on your armrest, trapping you, and you start stammering. “Since you do it so well in your songs.”

You can’t get anything out, though she doesn’t look away. You feel stuck, considering the numerous things you could tell her. Alternatively, you sigh. Fuck it. 

“I think I’ve told you enough,” you inhale, cupping one hand on her jaw and the other on the back of her neck before you firmly kiss her. Shuri lets out a muffled noise before reciprocating. 

And you both think, Finally.

Her body starts to sway backwards as you press against her, however she pushes you back against your chair. Her hands grab the sides of your face—one hand under your hood and the other over—refusing to let go now that she’s on her feet. Her upper body bends down just so her lips can live on yours, and a chuckle escapes both of you when your chair rolls backwards, almost hitting the wall behind you.

Admittedly, you enjoy sitting as she envelops your lips, but you decide to stand. Your hands slide down to her waist as you slowly walk her backwards until her legs meet the edge of your bed and she ends up landing on her bottom with her elbows supporting her weight as she gazes up at you, several red horizontal lines covering her body.

God, you can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe Shuri wants you as much as you want her. Everything feels…unreal. Dream-like.

“Come here,” she pulls your wrist and you land on top of her. The bed bounces beneath you as her hand slithers up to your neck, drawing you in for a chaste kiss. She catches you in your thoughts. “You okay?” Is this okay? 

You nod, still admiring her below you. You whisper, “I didn’t think you’d…pay attention. To what I wrote. I didn’t know you were listening like that.”

Shuri caresses your neck with her thumb. She takes note of the neon blue light illuminating half of your face from a bar sign also across the street, below the motel sign. 

She kisses your cheek, your chin, then your lips once again. “I’ll always listen to you.”

#shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #poc reader #shuri x poc reader #shuri udaku #reader is a musician #afab reader #masc reader #black panther: wakanda forever

[bidisastersanji]

Seasonal ski instructor/mountaineer Sanji working for a resort is on a nice off-piste outing by himself, basking in the sun refracting off the fresh fallen snow and through the tall pine trees, when he gets called because apparently a directionally challenged customer got really lost around his area and he should look for him. (Zoro. its Zoro)

Grumbling, Sanji removes the rackets he put on to hike up the mountain and snaps on his skis to go down and look for signs of a person (how could someone even get off-piste on ACCIDENT? It’s not possible you’d have to be purposefully trying to get away from the neatly delineated track ?? It would take EFFORT to go off piste into the forested areas)

Zoro doesn’t understand how his friends got lost on this beautiful piste- they seem to have disappeared and suddenly he was all alone out here, with way more trees towering over him than before . Well- more peace and quiet and enjoyment for himself, he thinks. Less people to slalom around and avoid, and more piece and quiet and fresh mountain air for him to enjoy with his solitude.

But then he hears someone behind him calling out and turns around to see a skier in a sleek blue jumpsuit. The person seems really angry at him for some reason. Weirdo.

He keeps on snowboarding a little more but the guy catches up to him and cuts him dry by stopping his skis right in front of him.

Glaring at the skis, his eye means to see who the asshole who stopped him is but he doesn’t make it there immediately. No, instead it slowly trails up long, long legs that the jumpsuit somehow wrap around tightly in a way that makes his throat a bit dry. He realises he’s been starting a bit too long so he snaps his gaze up and is met with soft, messy blonde curls being freed from a hat and googles and a red, scowling face. Cute. There’s still some red lines marked into his skin when the accessory was digging in just seconds ago.

He doesn’t know what he’s done to get this man’s attention, but he unfortunately knows he likes em’ kind of like this…a little flushed and combative.

After some wrangling and bickering Sanji drags this oddly muscular and attractive customer (and of course it was a fucking snowboarder. Always think they’re so cool and above the rules, don’t they?) back to the resort where a worried group of 20-somethings thank him for finding their idiot friend. A really beautiful red-headed woman tells him he should join them at a party later so her friend-Zoro? Can buy him a drink as thanks- and what a weird thing to offer up for someone else (especially considering the man’s protests at the idea) but he can’t say no to a face like that and a free drink, so he politely agrees to pass by.

The curly blonde- Sanji, Nami tells him, does end up passing by so Zoro makes good on his promise and asks him what he wants to drink. Unsurprisingly the prissy dude orders an equally prissy drink with some complicated liquor name in it- but Zoro quickly learns he doesn’t mind too much, because the man turns out to be the biggest lightweight after drinking just a couple of them, and highly entertaining when drunk. Their banter at their booth quickly devolves into an argument about skis va snowboards. (Snowboards are obviously cooler and better, duh)

Soon enough Zoro watches Sanji join the dance floor, elegant limbs moving to the thrumming beat of the bass, curly blonde strands of hair sticking to his sweaty face and neck, and he finds himself fantasizing about getting his hands on those hips and his tongue on that skin and getting those lips making soft noises in his ear- he gets to his feet, unconsciously deciding to join the tempting man- he spots Nami looking at him in surprise, then quick, smug recognition when she sees where he’s heading.

The next morning Sanji doesn’t remember much, but knows that despite the hungover he’s nursing he needs to go teach his beginner ski class. He’s lucky is the adult one and not the children’s one today, so he can count on the comfort of fawning over a group of middle aged women for the day.

But god has other plans for him apparently. Or rather, a certain mosshead who he knows can hold his own very well on his snowboard. Is he there to mock him? Annoy him? Discredit him in front of students?

Zoro joins the beginner ski class, hoping to get more interactions and opportunities to flirt with this absolute beauty of a man that he didn’t get nearly enough kisses from the previous night.

#why yes im inspired by all the snow we’ve been getting #and why yes I have limited knowledge on skiing and ski resorts #but I’ve always imagined skiers and snowboarders have some kind of rivalry going on? #zosan #zoro x sanji #Zosan fic idea #sanzo #zosanzo #I just LOVE the idea of zoro struggling with his skis #Sanji having to show him how #holding him #and all the ladies being like oh my #Zosan ski au #as always this is just me rambling #just a draft

[blainesebastian]

coffee cart girl

words: 2,424 ship: austin x female reader  summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you.  notes: just for fun, couldn’t get it out of my head warnings: none 

It’s one of those things where you can’t remember how the whole thing started. One moment you’re attempting to finish a script, get noticed, have someone other than your sister read what you’ve written to see if it actually makes sense, if it’s worth fighting for—and the next? You’re the coffee runner on studio lots, visiting trailer to trailer, getting orders and bringing them back. Celebrities, stars, directors, producers, writers, the whole world opens up to you. A friend of a friend, their aunt, got you the job—honestly you’re not overthinking it. This is your chance to make something of yourself, to put your foot in the door, to feel seen.

Except it never quite happens that way.

There’s the exact opposite effect, no one notices you. You blend into the background, become another body on a busy set, but hey—at least you can tell yourself, ‘one of these days I’ll actually show my work to someone’. Just a page, just pitch an idea. Go from there. And every day, you walk onto the same set of the movie you’re currently assisting on and do what you do best: grab coffee orders.

“Maybe this is actually my secret calling.” You grin, pushing your hair over you shoulder as you wave your ID badge to the security box entrance. They buzz you in and you wander on, seven AM, far too early for anything to be enjoyable.

Jillian, a beautiful redhead with tight curls and hazel eyes rolls them in your direction. She’s been working just as long as you have but with a very different job—hair and makeup. “Oh please Y/N, you just need to give yourself a chance. Let someone in? I’m sure you’ve got great ideas.”

You purse your lips, comfortable in a pair of black mom jeans and a white t-shirt today, simple. “How do you know? I could have some awful ideas. Hollywood’s full of ‘em.”

She snickers, “I dated an actor once, he thought he was God’s gift to film—trust me, I know a tacky personality when I meet one. And that’s not you.” She gently taps the tip of your nose, making you crinkle it, before hurrying off towards the hair and makeup trailer.

“Y/N.”

You sigh, head tipping back slightly to the sky as a resounding voice makes it to your eardrums. That’s Sal, an older woman who’s wrinkles remind you of crunched up old velvet and has a smoker voice to somehow match. She runs the show around here…quite literally other than Baz, who deals with everything that’s not the day-to-day small jobs. Sal’s job is to make sure everyone is on time, that trailers don’t need anything…that writes her paycheck.

You turn with a smile that somehow hurts your teeth, “Mornin’ Sal.”

“You gonna grab people’s coffee today or just stand there?” She asks, moving to hand over a slip, “Already did your job to grab the few orders of the people who are here already. Think you can handle the rest?”

You hum—kill her with kindness. “Absolutely, thank you.”

Your eyes run down the order list—mostly for hair and makeup, wardrobe, and then you catch a particular name towards the bottom—

Butler – black, two sugars.

Your eyebrows crinkle together before wandering towards the coffee cart. Sometimes people request Starbuck runs but it seems like today isn’t that day. Robotically, you begin filling coffee orders but the bottom name has you a bit stumped. Today is not the first day you’ve brought Austin Butler coffee and it won’t be the last, least until they’re done shooting Elvis. But you feel like you’ve got a pretty good memory when it comes to orders…and he does not do sugar. Sometimes it’s a treat with a splash of milk, but not sugar.

You make a judgement call, pouring the splash of milk and loading up the drink holder to make your rounds. Sal, ironically, is not the most detail-oriented person. This whole sugar thing has got to be wrong.

As you make your way around set to drop off coffees, you find yourself contemplating on the fact that coffee really is an all-day thing—whether it’s this early morning set call, late at night shoots or middle of the day cravings, nearly someone almost every two hours is requesting some sort of pick-me-up.

“Thanks Y/N.” One of the other makeup artist smiles at you, tipping the cup in a cheers motion and you wink back.

Two deliveries left…

Turning a corner around the trailer, you make a beeline for Austin’s, because odds are he has to be in front of a camera soon. Or at least to another trailer to get hair and makeup or wardrobe, whichever. No sooner do you walk up the steps to knock on the door, it opens, almost hitting you square in the face. Luckily—luckily? It hits your hands instead.

A sharp gasp leaves your mouth as hot coffee spills all over the front of you, but it’s not so much the noise you make in pain but moreso surprise. Your mouth opens, blinking once, twice, because—really?

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Austin says quickly, clearly rattled by the set of five shared moments. “I usually open the door a lot slower, I’m late.” He’s got that Elvis drawl—you’ve heard it a few times on set when you linger close to scenes taking place just to get a glimpse of how the written work becomes an actual picture.

Could really be you someday, your written words leaving an actor’s mouth. Not really feelin’ like today however with a very large coffee stain down your front.

“No, it’s—” You let out a soft laugh as he reaches for the coffee tray, your eyes flickering up—he’s not dressed as Elvis, not yet, hasn’t even been to hair and makeup yet because his hair is untamed, a soft black with iridescent hues hanging in a few strands over his forehead.

“I usually start the day like this, with coffee.”

He blinks, seeming to process that what you’ve said is a joke before a shy laugh tumbles out of his chest. “Right.” It’s an attractive sound, and maybe if you weren’t so flustered, you’d let yourself enjoy it. “Least lemme help you clean up or…get another coffee.”

“I think that’s my job.” You smile, but the offer is nice. Most of the time, or at least some celebrities you’ve come into contact with, kinda sweep interactions under the rug, make mistakes your problem, are too busy to even apologize. Which whatever, you’re not gonna hold that against them, you got more important things to worry about.

But the fact that Austin offers, even is willing to grab other coffees when he’s the star running late…it means something. A twisting in your stomach spreading heat like vines wrapping around a house, definitely something you’ll end up thinking about later.

“I got this, you’re late right? I can bring it to you wherever you’re going.”

He takes a step past you, still holding onto the coffee carrier because apparently he’s gonna throw that away. “Hair and makeup,” He runs a hand through his hair, as if on emphasis. And then his eyes flicker towards your chest and a small wince crinkles his nose, “What about a shirt?”

A laugh escapes your lips, almost can’t help it, “You wanna give me a shirt.” It is not a question.

Austin smiles, amused but seemingly a bit more comfortable than he was before. He knows how to hold your gaze when he speaks to you—nervous when he spilt the coffee but almost confident now. He’s got this particular look about him that he leads with his eyes, it’s in interviews when he’s speaking to someone (not that you have totally binged those on a YouTube, a black hole kinda night, or anything). But he’s capable of making you feel, no matter who you are, that you’ve got something important to add the conversation too. That it’s not just one sided.

That’s a typical Leo man, if someone were to ask you.

“I got spare t-shirts in my trailer.” He says and—Austin Butler is offering you a t-shirt to wear so you don’t have to deal with this stained one all day. And for whatever reason, you find yourself nodding, because what else are you supposed to do?

Totally doesn’t matter that you’ve got a sweater in your car that you could cover it up with. Austin is quick, moving back into his trailer because he’s still late and Sal will be on your ass in a minute if you’re not doing something productive. He comes back out with a simple white t-shirt, folded, and passes it into your hands before walking down the steps.

He turns at the bottom, “I just realized I don’t know your name—you bring me coffee every day, I’ve been meanin’ to ask.”

“Y/N.” You offer a small smile, motioning to the shirt in silent thanks, “Hair and makeup?” You ask to confirm, before, “Black with a splash of milk, right?”

He smiles, nodding, holding your gaze as he walks backwards, “Right.”

You hum in satisfaction—you knew Sal’s scribblings were wrong.

--

It’s a long day, and Jillian only asks about the t-shirt once because it’s obviously not what you were wearing this morning. Austin’s shirt is a little longer than yours, hanging on your body a bit loose. He’s skinny but taller. If Jillian puts it together as you bring Austin his coffee order when he’s getting his hair done, she doesn’t say a word.

But there’s this look in her eyes that tells you she knows. It makes you roll your own—not like anything will happen. You got a shirt because he was being nice, feeling responsible for the spilled coffee in the first place. There probably won’t even be another chance to talk to him at length like you did today and even that was quick—usually when you drop off his coffee he’s not even in his trailer.

It's towards the end of the night, most scenes wrapping up—you’re seventy percent sure there’s some Hanks shots being completed. Sitting on a picnic bench outside near the food tent, you scribble out a part in your script where the dialogue just doesn’t mesh. It doesn’t sound real, authentic—sometimes it’s hard to get out of your head and just let the characters speak to one another.

You let out a soft sigh, sticking the pen behind your ear…and blink when a coffee appears in your peripheral vision. And then if that’s not enough, it’s Austin. They must have been filming one of the earlier Elvis scenes because he’s in fifties get-up, a blue lace shirt that brings out his eyes in a ridiculous fashion. It’s unfair for him to approach you like this with no warning…and yet, you have a feeling he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Figured I’d pay you back for that coffee…then I realized I got no idea how you even take it.”

You smile, picking it up. It’s black, simple. You set the script down and blow on it—if Austin Butler brings you coffee, you drink it. “You don’t actually owe me anything, coffee was from set. And I like cream, sugar.”

He smiles a little, drawing his lower lip into his mouth for a moment, “Noted.”

“You done for the night?”

“Yeah, I gotta wash this gel outta my hair before I go. I learned the hard way that if I don’t, I won’t be able to get a brush through it in the mornin’.” You laugh slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles, “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

Handsome and a sense of humor—boy, are you in trouble.

Austin motions to the script beside you with his chin, “You a writer?”

You slowly turn it upside down—not because you’re afraid he might read it, but moreso out-of sight-out-of-mind. “Sometimes I like to pretend I am.”

“You ever let anyone read it?”

You shift a little, wrapping your hands around the hot cup of coffee, the heat seeping into your palms as a welcome distraction. He asks the question as if he already knows the answer and maybe he does—it feels like as he looks at you, he’s peeling layers of your skin back, seeing inside, reading words imprinted on your skin that no one has ever seen before.

Might just be your imagination, him in this beautiful Elvis getup, the soft blues of the lace and the sharp edge of the blue in his eyes.

“My cat.”

He smirks, shaking his head as he looks away. “Bet they’re a harsh critic.”

“Oh he’s ruthless.” You smile but it’s warm and genuine, comfortable. You did not expect your day to end up like this. Looking down into the cup of coffee, you treat it like a Magic Eight ball, as if it’ll give you a hint of what you should say next.

Ask again later.

You look up, your eyes trailing over his form for a moment, soft edges somehow sharpened at the same time. Steel in velvet. “Maybe one day, need to get it perfect.”

Austin purses his lips, “Perfect doesn’t exist—besides, sometimes flaws are the most interestin’.”

“You talking about my coffee-stained shirt again?” You tease, drawing the attention away from your script. You’re afraid he might be right about the whole ‘perfection’ thing…but there has to be a better version than what you got now. Right?

“No,” He laughs softly. Austin backs up a step, eyes towards his trailer—you can tell he’s tired, spent from the day, but at the same time wants to remain lingering. Like he might have more to say, or wouldn’t mind the conversation shifting into another topic, “But maybe don’t let the whole spillin’ thing become a habit, I only got so many spare shirts you can have.”

You laugh, tugging on the fabric, “This was your fault. You want this one back?”

He debates, for a half a second, his eyes slightly lidded as he looks at the shirt and you realize that you could take it off. Right there, in a cheeky manner. Your cheeks flush the softest of pinks, splotching to the back of your neck.

“Nah you keep it.” And the moment passes. Austin offers a small smile, “See you around tomorrow Y/N.”

“Tomorrow.” You nod, watching him turn to walk back to his trailer.

--

Thanks for reading :) I dunno if anyone would be interested in  a part two, but I figured it never hurts just to put an idea out there! 

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg #ccg series

[cherry-poppins]

Don't Go Baking My Heart - (Underswap!Sans X Reader)

I'll bake my feelings into goods  Just for you to eat them so I feel understood What do you call sharing sweet treats together  A warm kinda love that stays forever 

You sit and stare at your phone, the blue light illuminating your face. The clock reads 1:55am. You loved nights, they were so comforting, peaceful, quiet. You could get so much done. Except tonight you were bored. You sigh to yourself, thinking of the options you had to feed your boredom.

You could go to bed and sleep, any normal person would. Get a nice cup of tea, read a good book or put on a movie. Play some white noise as you sarcoma into slumber. But you were too bored for that, you needed something to do. Then the idea of baking struck you, but as much as you'd love to do that by yourself you always found baking more enjoyable when you did it with someone.  

Which led you to stare at your phone debating whether or not to call your best friend. He'd be most likely sleeping and you'd feel guilty if you woke him up, knowing how much he valued his sleep. But then again he always said that he was up for anything…. Fuck it. 

The phone rang for a few seconds before your favorite skeleton answered, sounding groggy and a little annoyed. "You have three seconds to capture my attention or I'm going back to bed…. Unless you’re dying…. You’re not dying right? or is it a dead body? Stars i always knew this day would come, ok we're going to need-" 

He was unfortunately cut off by your laughter, sounding much like a tea kettle as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “Hahahaha I called you and the first thing that comes to your mind is that I'm dying or that there's a body involved? Geez and i thought your brother had a grim sense of humor”  

You giggled as you heard him sigh, sensing his disappointment through the screen. You didn’t need to see, knowing he was rolling his eyes at your attempt at humor. “Hardy hahaha, real funny. Wow you’re such a comedian you should have your own show. So did you need help with something or??” 

“Oh yeah I was wondering if you’d want to bake with me at my place?” You asked your voice trailing off at the end, now considering if this was a smart move. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line before you hear another long sigh. "Do you know what time it is?" Sans asked, sounding more awake now. 

“Yeah I’m aware…. But I need something to do and before you say anything I have considered all of the above and more. This could be fun plus I know you have a sweet tooth” Listening to the grumbling of a sleepy skeleton made you use your final straw.  

“Come on, don't make me bake by myself Starboy.” 

There was a pause before you heard a fit of giggling from him which soon matched your own. “Oh man, you're really pulling the ol’ nickname card. Alright you got me, you make it really hard to say no to you.”

You grinned, silently accepting your victory. "You know you love me, besides this is payback for all the times I had to deal with your last minute antics."

A totally exaggerated gasp comes from Sans. “Unbelievable, that's so not true. You know it's quite hurtful that you’d say- Pft nah I’m just playing with you. You make a fair point but i feel like we have this pact were you deal with my antics and i have to deal with yours” 

“Ha, cheers to that, but on another note hurry your bony ass up and get over here!” You yell into the phone, laughing as you hear the broken reply of Sans. Something along the lines of don't yell, it's too early for that shit. Bla bla, think of the neighbors. 

Sans then promptly hung up after claiming he’d be about 10 minutes. You waited for a few minutes before throwing him a text, reminding him just in case he fell asleep.... or got side tracked. Which happened often. You didn't mind though, he always made your life a bit more interesting. Kept you on your toes, all though you suppose he could say the same thing about you. 

Just as you’re about to text him again you hear a lil “ thwip ” from outside your apartment. Unable to contain your grin you rush to the front door, quick to unlock and open it. “You teleported here?” 

Standing in front of you with a slightly embarrassed look on his face stood Sans, wearing a blue flannel and fluffy blue pants with yellow stars. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself that Sans was half dressed in his Pj’s. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he just usually preaches how put together he is.“Heh yeah, first time for everything ay? Also don't tell Papyrus, I know he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Pft nah, wouldn't dream of it. Besides I feel like this’ll be good blackmail for the future” You joked as Sans rolled his eyes. 

“We little Miss Blackmail, may I come inside?” He asked, leaning against the door frame. 

With a large amount of consideration and a pinch of playful sarcastic comments you allowed him to enter. As the two of you walked towards your kitchen Sans asked what you wanted to make. “Heheh… the best i can do is chocolate chips cookies,  not that they’re bad. I make a mean batch of cookies.. But unfortunately that's about it” You smile sheepishly as you leant against your fridge. 

“Oooo that sounds great, who doesn't love chocolate chip cookies?” He reassured me. “Besides, don’t worry I make a mean batch of cupcakes. We’re freakin’ set” 

You smile “alrighty then, let's get baking!” 

Ok, the first thing you needed was the ingredients and cooking equipment. You ask Sans to get the mixer and bowls while you get the ingredients. Checking the fridge you scan the shelves for the ingredients you needed, though you were quick to find that you'd need more butter. 

"Oh come on…. Hey Sans we need more- Eh, what are you doing?" 

You watch as the panic spreads across his face as he gets caught red handed mid eating a handful of chocolate chips. Finishing what was in his mouth he laughs nervously before answering painfully slowly. “Eh… eating the chocolate chips?” 

Good grief. You let out a chuckle, informing him that we didn't have enough butter. Only for his response to be eating more choc chips. "Hey!!  You eat one more handful of chocolate chips and I'm sending you to the shop to buy more!” Giving him a playful bonk on the head as you jokingly  scold him. “Even though technically we have to go anyways because of the butter” 

"What shops would be open this time of night?" he asks. Fuck, he did have a point. You groan to yourself not hiding your disappointment, wondering if yall were even gonna be able to do this 

Sans thinks for a moment before he snaps his fingers as his eyes light up with literal stars in them. "You know my house would be closer, it was shopping day yesterday. We’d have to be quiet though because papy might be asleep."

“Heck ya! Awww, thank you Sans!!! I really appreciate it” You let out a giggle and a squeal, bringing him in for a crushing hug which was eagerly received. 

Despite being late at night ... or too early in the morning the two of you had gotten yourselves into a giggle fit, shushing each other as you attempted to sneak into his apartment. Just when you had thought you were in the clear you were caught by Papyrus with a cup of tea in his hands, although from where he was standing he thought he’d gotten caught by you two. We all stood there silently staring at each other until Papyrus broke the silence.

"Well good morning to you too" he said, giving a sleepy smile, giving you a small wave. 

"Technically the human hasn't slept" he giggles along with you, playfully rolling his eyes as you wave back. 

Papyrus chuckles at that, leaning against a wall. "Huh, well that makes two of us.” He says before taking a sip of his tea, only to nearly choke on the sip as Sans gasps realizing he had in fact been caught red handed. 

"Papy you promised you'd sleep tonight, this is the third night in a row. You can't keep taking naps throughout the day, it's not healthy." Sans crossed his arms and huffs. 

Papyrus sighs and shrugs at his older brother. "yeah, yeah i know but i finally have the motivation to get shit done and i'm taking full advantage of it. My book isn't gonna write itself ya know"

"You write those words papyrus!!" You encouraged him, throwing some finger guns.

The two brothers giggle at your silly attempt at encouragement. With that the two of you are left in the dark hallway, the faint smell of fresh coffee filled the cold air. Gathering the ingredients you'd need quickly and quietly you were back to your apartment within half an hour.

“Alrighty we got the remaining ingredients, we got our recipes and the oven is set to preheat” You say, looking at your fully prepared counter top. You look over at Sans and dramatically point at him, acting like a gameshow host. “You know what time it is Starboy?!” 

Sans smirked, flipping up the collar of his flannel before stroking a pose. “Time to get baking!”

You get back and start baking the cookies and teach sans. While the cookies are baking he teaches you.... Then there was an incident with the flour. you don't get these messes when baking cookies. you both decorate the cupcakes and ice them. 

You first taught Sans how to make your chocolate chips cookies, showing him the measurements, how to make it properly, and that a lil vanilla extract goes a long way and makes things taste so much better. Apparently he didn’t know that you have to mix all the wet and dry ingredients separately before mixing them all together. He then taught you how to make his cupcakes… There was an incident with the flour… and the blue food coloring… And somehow there's yellow star sprinkles everywhere?!

You don’t get these messes when baking cookies, or at least not when you do them. Regardless you had fun, chasing him across the kitchen with an icing covered spatula. Though he did get you baking with a cup full of flour, miscalculating his teleporting jump and ending up crashing on you… with the cup of flour. Now you could say you and Sans were matching colours. 

By the time you both were done the sun was starting to rise. The kitchen was a mess, you had cupcakes and cookies for days. and you both were covered in flour, icing and sprinkles. You both laid against the pantry door, watching the sun spill across the dining room table and across the floor. Sans checks the time before giggling to himself. "Heh usually i go out for my morning jog by now."

The realization finally sunk in, you had kept him up with you for the entire night till dawn, inconveniencing his own routine. “I'm sorry that i've kept you up.... i just thought…." Your spirling thoughts got cut off with Sans handing you a cupcake. The icing was by no means perfect. The icing was kinda uneven and the sprinkles were all decorated on one side but taking a bit of the baking delight it tasted delicious. 

"Don't sweat it, I love baking with you" he smiled at you sweetly, thanking you as you reached over and handing him one of your own baking delights. 

He takes a bite of your chocolate chip cookies and absolute melts, success! That's what happens when you spend years perfecting a single recipe!! Now only if you could put the same effort into your other recipes, or perhaps even your studies? 

“Mmm definitely worth it” Sans praised as he indulged in the cookie. 

“So worth it” you reply, finishing off the rest of the cupcake, wiping whatever frosting stuck to your face. You turn to Sans before asking “You wanna get cleaned up, get in some comfy clothes and nap all day?” 

Sans whined a bit, letting his head hit the cupboard door behind him with a thunk. "Ugh you're starting to sound like my brother.... but i might have to take you up on that. It sounds nice… perhaps Papyrus is on to something with that napping of his” 

#undertale #underswap #underswap papyrus #x reader #underswap oneshot #underswap imagines #us sans #underswap sans #underswap sans x reader #underswap sans oneshot #underswap sans headcannons #underswap sans imagines #sans undertale #sans x reader

[frazzledsoul]

So I've been writing and deleting this over and over for the past few days. I didn't want to upset anybody or come off too strongly but I kept thinking and thinking about it, and I needed to get it off my chest or I'd just keep obsessing over it. I guess it's something I still feel strongly about.

The idea that an original content creator should have any influence or input over whether one continues to create or consume fanworks is borderline offensive to me. The idea that one should consider that person's intentions or should refrain from continuing the story in our own way if it upsets the creator's sensibilities is really, really offensive to me. As a practical matter, they cannot look at our work (creators are encouraged if not legally compelled to stay away for plagiarism reasons) and as long as we are not making a profit off of it and are not breaking any laws, we are free to continue the story in any way that we wish. This is why AO3 exists, because there is a long history of capricious creators targeting fans for fanworks. The site is there to protect us because it is not the creator's sphere. It is ours. We do not need their permission to create and they do not need ours. We don't need to respect or even like the creator to continue the story and we certainly don't need to like the story itself. In fact, most fanworks come into being because we hated at least part of it, and wanted to try to make something better.

When it comes to the matter of Amy Sherman Palladino, we certainly do not need to respect her value system, to the extent that she has one. I decided a long time ago that I won't let that woman have any power over any enjoyment I got out of her work or the ways in which I sought better means of writing or enjoying the way other people write her story. I do not believe what she believes.

The story is over, and for the most part fans haven't like most of what she's written since 2006, and yet they keep begging and pleasing for her to come back and write an ending that they'll sure will make them happy. The series ended with a positive future for almost everyone involved and fans said it wasn't good enough. Fans asked for years for her to come back and write the real ending, because only Amy can write an ending that satisfies us. We'll respect anything you give us, Amy. Then we got AYITL and almost everyone hates it. She took away the youth and promise of almost all the characters and robbed them if the futures we wanted for them and undercut the premise of her series with that ending. And yet fans still beg and plead for more. Surely when she writes the second revival, she'll finally give us what we want! We'll respect anything you give us, Amy! It's a destructive cycle that never ends.

This woman has done more than enough damage to these characters over the years. She does not need to write for them again. We certainly don't need her permission to want better futures for them, or to only imagine those futures because it's what she wanted. She doesn't want them to be happy, and she doesn't want the fans to be happy. Her intentions should not ever be something that HAS to control the ways in which we retell her story.

As to why I rejected that woman's value system, it's because the show often felt like it was cribbed from my life before it was written, and once I did find comfort in the values I thought it expressed. I thought it was a story that valued compassion, integrity, loyalty hard work, sacrifice, and general human decency. By the end of season six, it was made clear that ASP found most of those things deeply embarrassing if not downright ludicrous. Her universe was proved to be full of moral rot: the only thing she valued at that point was narcissism, money, and emotional destruction. By the end of that season, Lorelai and Rory used the values that the men in their life held dear against them because it made them feel vindicated in hurting them. Luke dared to prioritize someone other than Lorelai and Lorelai used his loyalty and devotion to his family against him, knowing it would cripple him to know she chose Christopher, but choosing to do so anyway because Christopher would never, ever prioritize his daughters over her. Rory used both Jess and Logan's love for her in order to try to use one against the other: she knew that trampled over Jess's boundaries and beliefs in doing so, and yet she attempted it anyway. And ASP defended this as a moral good because Logan deserved to be hurt! (Rory expresses zero remorse about trying to hurt HIM). At least Rory felt bad about it and acknowledged Jess's worth as a person in doing wrong, but the morality of her actions never comes into play. And as for Lorelai? I would love for her to be one of those flawed characters who actually accepts responsibility for her actions, but she almost never is that person when ASP is writing her. The most important lesson ASP had to convey is that nothing in the world matters as much as what makes Lorelai Gilmore feel better, and the people that she hurts certainly never matter as much as her feelings do.

And apart from all that bullshit, I can't help remembering that Lorelai and Rory rejected the decent, dependable, loyal men in the story for the rich, charming Lotharios with a recent history of betraying them. That rejection may have been necessary in Jess's case (because Milo didn't want to participate in this charade anymore), but it does seem that ASP was arguing that Luke and Jess and all of their goodness didn't mean as much as money and charm. They were never, ever going to be good enough. And you know what? Lorelai and Rory hurt the people they chose, too. I feel ASP is as immune to the consequences of that as she was the the overall classist message she was sending here. Money and charm are to overrule all. Well, what if they don't?

So, yeah. I reject that belief system and the way she told me that everything I hold sacred in the world is essentially meaningless and not worth honoring. I've spent a lot of time in my adult life living out the consequences of the emotional destruction that Lorelai and Rory wrought so easily and in Lorelai's case, without shame or remorse (I don't think ASP would have ever let her apologize for what she did). I've spent a very, very long time cleaning up the mess that gets left behind. So no. I do not respect the message that this kind of shit is in any way justifiable.

So any attempt I make in my piddling fanfiction career, or all the shit I write on this hellsite, or even the stories I seek out, always is going to be a repudiation of the story as it was originally told. I am not interested in that story and I have zero interest in letting its implications control the one I prefer.

Gilmore Girls is not a comfort show for me. However, its fanworks are. It is important to me that they are not the same thing.

#wow i haven't yelled about asp like this in years #anyway just my opinion #gilmore girls #meta #i think even in media one has a goid relationship with the spheres shoukd akways be seperate

[viveela]

your art is ❤ I wanna squeeze them to death (affectionate) also do you read sp fanfiction? if so do you have recs? 🙈

Ah thank you sm!! I'm so glad people enjoy my fanarts, I honestly didn't think my whole shift to south park posting would go this well lol I'm very glad to be proven otherwise!!

As for sp fics ...this is gonna be a long post lol.

So I have been reading some, buuut I guess I'm kinda picky...I am kind of particular about fics in general honestly. If I love something I want to see it portrayed authentically, that goes for every fandom I've been in. I know aus are fun but I want to be able to mainly consume canon compliant content, rarely do I read anything else oops. Unfortunately I've found that to be kinda hard since aging them up and doing all sorts of aus is heavily the vast majority with the sp fandom so I don't really have too many fics I personally have to recommend; just a handful that stood out to me, but I will happily share some!! They're all style and creek tho as I haven't found any I like that aren't yet, but I hope to find some for other pairs or nonromantic ones soon.

Stan x Kyle: A Ballad of True Hearts It's ongoing but really good so far! I really enjoy it, I'm a huge sucker for the fantasy look from the show/game and when it comes to aus this is like the only one I really indulge in. I really like how they're characterized and the tense dynamic they have that reflects the one seen in the current state of the series. The underlying plot has me very intrigued too! Sign of Devotion Adorable canon feeling story where their fantasy world is rarely portrayed as in the show with them simply playing pretend (which is my fav way to see it done). I loved this one to pieces and idk I just really like the idea of some feelings arising between them from trying to stay in character!! To Be More Than My Daydream I really enjoyed this one because it really nailed down how comfortable the two boys have gotten with each other's presence. I enjoy the idea of Stan taking a while to realize how his feelings changed over time and the way awareness of this slowly comes to light. It's written so tenderly and sweet it's really cute, I love the way they are here. Say it and mean it (for both our sakes) Such an awesome fic covering the distance that has grown between the two and how they're both happier when close to one another. They are both wanting and missing what they once had before but so bad at communicating this to each other until now. It was just perfect, loved it. Tweek x Craig:

Signs Point to Yes Incredibly fun fic, super in character, felt like an actual episode. The call back to the fortune teller is great. It was just such an enjoyable fic that really captured their dynamic and the struggle to save a relationship they didn't even ask for but now want. Super cute!

A Stripe of Love This fic was made before there was that much info on Stripe I believe, but it is very cute and I enjoyed it a lot. I am also always a fan for people bringing in Tweek's unofficial/official parrot into the mix, even if briefly. Overall, it's just a really sweet read.

Baby steps

Really cute exploration of how the two would feel about the awkward transition from faking to actually putting real feelings into their actions and being a little more vocal about it. Tweek's nerves are captured really nicely too.

That's all of them, hopefully my tastes in fics overlap at least a little with yours and you gain a nice read out of this!

I also plan to write some fics myself so maybe keep an eye out for that...?

#veespeaks #south park #style #fic asks #creek #this was kinda fun to format lol #hopefully it is enjoyed by anon and maybe others #but yeah i have fic ideas...lots of em #I just don't have enough time to do everything I want lol #but soon....soon

[timevir]

2024 - A New Timevir

This post contains some words about the loss of death.

Writing is a very fun hobby that I've done for as long as I can remember. It probably started as written exercises and fanfiction during childhood. It transformed into intricate worldbuilding as I was introduced to the hobby of tabletop roleplaying. In recent years, I've written interactive fiction, scripts, novels and sourcebooks.

But one constant caveat is that I almost never shared my work. It was an enjoyable process to convert thoughts and feelings into substantative manifestations in the physical realm. Yet despite many coworkers, friends and family members asking about them, I'd always give the same answer of "it's personal and not worth sharing".

I thought about why I was doing this, and noticed I have been living the life of an observer. I enjoy the detail of the world around me, and paying attention to things that others would consider irrelevant. I would even deliberately put myself out of my comfort zone if it meant putting myself in a location that I could see something new. If there was an interesting protest in the city I was living in, if there was a strange, dangerous event occurring in the vicinity or if there was an unusual experience or location to be discovered, I'd happily waltz in and act like that I was meant to be there. During the riskier parts of youth, it even meant a bit of trespassing, but I stopped doing that after a few dangerous close calls.

What I was not doing as an observer was manifesting that in the world. Many of my projects would be built, some even to completion, and then they'd sit in a box, frozen and inaccessible through their obscurity. Nothing I made ever felt like it was deserved observation compared to the rich tapestry of the world around me. Even in the rare moments I found pride in something, it would soon feel obsolete compared to some next logical alternative.

A lot of my life has been spent on "the grind". Work had seemingly crept its way into absorbing the free energy I had in an addictive loop. At first, it was merely a way of ensuring survival and trying to get out of school debt. It took the majority of my late 20s to get out of school debt, a feat I was able to just reach before my 30th birthday. A few more months, and I had a decent emergency fund and a "real" disposable income, assuming I wasn't going to try and buy a house (which to be honest, isn't an exciting proposition at the moment. Real estate trends caused by high demand have made housing costs extortionate, but that's a discussion for another time).

Work is of course necessary for human survival. Indeed, if we took a snapshot of lives lead across history, nearly everyone has had to contribute in some way to their communities for them to function well. The meaning of work has shifted through the various periods of history significantly, but its goals have remained the same. What is implictly understood, even if not necessarily well recorded, is that there was a whole tapestry of living that existed outside of these actions that could mean vastly more to the people that lived around them. While much of these ideas have persisted through the passing of cultural works, very rarely have we got a good snapshot of the life of any specific individual, even if they potentially had amazing tales to tell.

Identity has slipped through my fingers somewhat accidentally. It had felt much easier to sacrifice every bit of effort to accumulate knowledge, resources and a position of comfort than it took to stand for anything. At first I may have resisted the ideas of exaggerating an accomplishment, or cutting on the quality of a product to create it faster, but those values became too easy to discard when reward was on the table. But if anyone were to ask me about the morals of the situation from the outside, I'd remark a half-mealed "it depends" which really meant nothing beyond the acknowledgement strong values had merit and self-interest could get in the way.

It seemed like the intelligent thing to do because the things that were remembered across time were great accomplishments, long standing monuments and the best and worst of events moulding humanity's timeline. It was easy to mistake what was memorialized for what was important in life. It then followed that if memorialization was an ultimate goal, that the best way to do so was to accomplish some great feat was to set yourself up with as much power as could be wielded, a good proxy for which was money, before putting all that strength into ventures in the hope that something would hit and a legend would be born.

It is possible I could have remained trapped in that vicious craving for objectives if it wasn't for a life shattering event at the end of 2023. It was at this time that my younger brother died unexpectedly in his mid twenties. A whole life was potentially ahead of him, but it was cut short at almost no notice. My relatively normal family crumbled into chaos and it was shattered.

In the emotional fallout, I looked again at what I had done. Of course I did not regret unburdening myself from debt, or succeeding at a career. But in all the push for an abstract notion of success and legend, I had lost an invaluable voice that could never be replicated. My brother had lived his life to his fullest in his time on Earth. He had moved country, he had found love and friendship, and he had ideas of a future. Seeing these wither into tears, memories, and finally a grave, made me realise in the end that a memorial would not make up for the moments that would never be had again.

My new year's resolution for 2024 is to try to reestablish a voice. To truly live in the world and not merely plan a story for my death. To make sure that my friendships and bonds remain strong and not let them disappear due to the inconvenience of maintenance. To stand for something and not just exist in the pursuit of convenience.

One way I am going to test myself on this goal is to try to make sure I write something down each week. Something public. It won't necessarily be something profound, but at least it may prevent me from slipping back into forgetting about the things that really matter. Perhaps it is better to exist in the world than merely drift through it.

#new year #new year resolutions #grief

[moonsanoverthinker]

I am nodding along to you hair hcs, that was a fun read! And I too am a "the mechanisms was Jon's uni band" enjoyer. Have you done hcs on TMA characters music taste?

Possible TMA spoilers for 1-4 ahead so read with caution xx

Sorry this took a little while to make usual life stuff appeared again x

I’ve not thought to hard about music until now so these might be no sense at all // also I’m doing this in series’s because of vibe changes and such but it’ll only be up until 4 because I don’t really feel there’d be much music listening in series 5 (if you have ideas for series 5 feel free to add them!)

Series 1:

Tim’s blasting every upbeat pop song he can find despite being told several times to stop by not just Jon but also the people above the archives

Sasha’s playing music in one earphone (so she can hear if someone talks to her) but she’s playing some chill music more for background noise than anything else

Martin plays his music through headphones pretty loud (mostly to drown out Tim) and it’s either that nice calming piano music or it’s early 2000’s alt/rock music. Either way it’s so loud he’s close to bursting his own eardrums.

Jon denies he listens to music because he claims it’s a distraction, however he has been heard listening to chill jazz because he wants to seem sophisticated. But he likes the more theatrical type of music but not musical theatre (if that makes sense)

Elias constantly plays creepy ambience music but really really quiet so whoever goes into his office can’t tell if it’s coming from his office or if it’s coming from a different room.

Series 2:

Tim’s still playing his music out loud but not as loud as before, there’s still upbeat songs but every now and again a slightly slower song pops up but he’ll skip it if there’s other people around.

NotSasha plays music from an earphones but she’s always got it a little too loud so sometimes people around her can hear it. She’ll play the same chill ambience but sometimes there’s a weird distorted sound instead, she tells people her earphones haven’t been working properly.

Martins still switching between calming piano music and early 2000’s emo but he’s stopped listening to it as loud- Jon had a go at him because he didn’t hear him, so now he keeps the music turned down just to keep an ear out for him.

Jon’s still denying he listens to any music because professionalism. But when he does listen to music he plays it as low as he possible can while still being able to hear it, he wants to make sure he can still hear what everyone else is doing and saying (s2 paranoia was something else)

Elias’s still playing his creepy ambience and has started denying that he’s playing anything if people ask. Occasionally he’ll play people talking very very quietly just to see Jon’s reaction.

Series 3:

Tim’s stopped listening to music out loud after the revelations of series 2. He’s tried to put the radio on for background noise because the archives is quiet now but there’s too many songs that remind him of the others so he usually turns it off. Martin suggested some ambience kind of music but that made Tim think too much of his encounter with the stranger so he chooses silence over that.

Martins still listening to the piano music but the 2000’s emo musics stopped, the slightly slower almost sad sounding piano feels more comforting now, nothing too loud or too fast.

Jon listens to the radio more while he’s staying with Georgie because there’s no need to be as professional but when he’s back in the institute he doesn’t listen to it as much but he also doesn’t make a point of sitting in silence whenever someone comes to him (if that makes sense)

Georgie listens to a mix of everything, doesn’t matter the genre or anything she’s got a playlist that’s 30 hours long and there’s not a single consistent genre in there. She also has a separate playlist which also features songs for her as well as The Admiral.

Melanie’s also an any genre type of person but there’s a little bit of a theme which is a mix between angry songs and sad songs. The musics always played through headphones and is always played super loud no matter how many times other people tell her to turn it down so she can hear them.

Basira just having a nice enough time reading with some chill jazz style ambience, nothing too chaotic just some easy background music for when she’s reading or just being in the archives in general. Sometimes she listens to music with lyrics but that’s also just that kind of easy to listen to style and it’s probably jazz.

Daisy’s got some intense instrumentals mostly when she’s in the hunt, keeps her on track and it’s loud enough to block out any other noise.

Elias’s still plays the music but has turned it up slightly because it’s now becoming a game to him just to mess with people.

Series 4:

Martins only listening to the piano music, to anyone else who manages to hear it the music sounds weirdly melancholy but he doesn’t think it is, in fact he finds it comforting but for some reason he always feels a slight emptiness from it.

Jon’s stopped listening to the radio, too many songs remind him of too many people. He’s tried ambience but it puts him on edge, then he tried instrumentals but they just felt hollow to him.

Georgie’s still listening to her mix of everything, there’s a couple more sad songs than normal but it’s still the same long playlist. The Admiral has now got his own playlist full of music that cats would enjoy.

Georgie and Melanie have also got a joint playlist which is just chaos with every genre involved

Melanie still listens to the sad and angry songs but there’s a few happy songs creeping in, especially after she manages to leave the institute. She’s also made The Admiral a playlist but hers includes some more chaotic songs.

Basria is still occasionally listening to the jazz but occasionally she’ll put the radio on, almost like a little tribute to the others and just to keep some noise in the institute just to make it feel less alone.

Daisy after the coffin’s listening to some calmer music just to try to keep herself calm and it’s more for distraction than anything else but that’s only when she can’t listen to The Archers.

Peter refuses to play the creepy music, because it would lead to people wanting to talk and ask questions about it, but also because Elias asked him to (he’ll refuse purely because of that)

#the magnus archives #tma shitpost #tma #tma headcanons #the magnus archives headcannon

[virgo-dream]

thinking about convenience

So much of who I am as a neurodivergent person is about being convenient to others. I’ve been hit lately with so many instances of what I think is best described as “corrective advice”: warnings to fall into line disguised as well meaning concern. The following are some exemples of things that have been said to me throughout my life, and how the concept of convenience shapes them.

I’ve realised being “high functioning” actually means being high masking. High functioning is what I was to others, high masking is how I protected myself from them. Learning how to behave in a way that didn’t make me stand out negatively, being actively encouraged to hide any signs of distress, discomfort, of anger or sadness or anxiety. People won’t want to work with me if they know my brain doesn’t work the way it should. My brain is working overtime to mimic the way I’m supposed to function, and it ends up burning away any energy I still had left for myself.

Being depressed made people feel sorry for me, it made them want to take care of me… but only while I was extremely skinny. My depression was a symptom of how hard I worked, how dedicated and dependable I was. Now that I’m not extremely skinny, my depression is defined by laziness, by lack of interest. It isn’t tragically beautiful to look at, but instead an ugly sort of mediocre. It’s no longer baroque, but rather a brutalist building in the middle of a withering garden.

Wearing the jeans I like “makes me fat”, so I shouldn’t, because being fat is bad and my comfort should not come before other people’s enjoyment and approval of my image. My clothes need to be tighter because it makes me look smaller. Looking smaller makes me more palatable. In that same vein, maybe I should consider getting breast implants, and start being vigilant over how my face looks. In 13 years I’ll be 40, and if I don’t watch out, I might end up looking my age!

Everything wrong with me is something that is inconvenient to others. Symptoms get treated while the root cause of my own suffering is ignored, because symptoms are ugly, and as long as they don’t show, the suffering isn’t real. What I need and what others would like gets thrown into a balance that will always show skewed results.

I wish I had an idea of how to deal with this, or how I can deconstruct the damage that the corrective advice I’ve received through life has done to my psyche. I don’t. Being aware seems to be the best I can do for myself now, and that’s okay.

#cw depression #cw fatphobia #cw body image #cw ptsd #needed to get these words out somehow! #december 2023 and the realisations just keep coming

[maxkirin]

Does it matter if you went to college for writing books? I did go but the scholarships for college I got were from people who told me creative writing was not a real career and I was encouraged to chose a different major and I ended up dropping out but I still want to write (I just did not want to teach English) books but i was told before you needed connections to get published, even though I think that is not true anymore but all of it had a really negative impact on my ability to write. I still have ideas I want to put down but I feel like I don’t know how to write even a little bit after several years of having to set it aside for a career I don’t want.

Thank you for your question! There's a lot I want to cover so don't mind me breaking your question down 😊🌻

1) Do you need a college/university creative writing education to write books?

Nope! And anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to gatekeep you. I had a very good, and very lovely experience with my creative writing professor in college—but I have heard nightmare stories from people who paid good money at fancy universities just to have a professor waste their time with bad, bad, baaaaad writing advice.

You want to know what we did in my writing courses? We wrote. The teacher gave us prompts. We wrote in class. We gave each other feedback. We would sometimes have a theme or writing element we were working on, but it all felt secondary. To me, the goal of that class was to give us the room to comfortably write and talk about our craft.

You don't need to go to college to do any of that. In fact, I did some of my best learning once I got out of college. You want to get better at writing? Here is what I recommend:

Write

Read Books

Get Feedback

That's it. Writing keeps your mental tools sharp (and it's also very fun). Reading helps you see what works and what doesn't. Getting feedback helps you get out of your head and look at your writing from another person's point of view.

2) How do you get back into writing when you haven't done it in a while / you feel like you have lost your touch?

For better or worse, the answer is quite simple.

You get back to writing.

Pick a story you've been meaning to work on for a while, or create a new one, and write a little bit every day you can. That's it. I know it sounds the opposite of easy or simple, but that's the truth.

Writing is a verb. It is something you do.

Think of it like this: if you wanted to get back into running marathons after a long hiatus, how would you go about it? Well, it's simple enough: you would get back into running, little by little. It's the same.

Take baby steps. Write a little at first. Get your writing-legs back. And be consistent. That's really all there's to it. Trust me, I've been kicked in the butt and had to crawl back to writing more times than I can count. The solution is always the same: start writing again.

3) Do you need connections to get published?

I think anyone reading your question can agree that whoever you talked to was reaching for reasons to discourage you. I'm really sorry you had to go through that.

Now, about connections…

In this day and age going viral is the new hotness. A traditional publisher might be more interested on your social media numbers than anything else. It probably wouldn't hurt to have connections, but that's an old way to look at things. Honestly, the person who told you that was probably also of the mind that you had to submit to literary magazines to get noticed. No offense to all the literary magazine enjoyers out there, but that isn't as important as it once was.

There are many ways to get noticed now, and you don't even have to aim for a traditional publisher if that's not part of your goal.

At the end of the day, don't let other people's opinions or worries about publishing keep you from creating the stories that speak to you, call to you to write them.

I can only speak for myself, but I don't write books to get published.

I publish to make money. I write because it's fun, and because I want to fill this world with wholesome, queer, absurd stories. 🌈📚

— M. Kirin

#anon ask #writing advice #writing #long post #writing tips #publishing

[dramaticdads]

Sunk cost fallacy

Today I finished listening to season 4 of The Magnus Archives, and figured I’d contribute a small hurt/comfort fic to the “domestic life in the Scottish Safehouse before the whole finale thing” part of things. I hope it’s enjoyable.

Word count: 1602

CW: Internalized aphobia.

Summary: Jonathan Sims tells Martin he is asexual, unsure where the admission will lead.

If there was one thing Jon had learned the past couple of days, however much the fact perplexed him, it was that Martin Blackwood loved him. That the man, who had watched Jon destroy himself more than once, had been put in danger because of Jon, had seen far too much, had loved Jon for far longer than Jon could conceptualize.

If there was one additional thing Jon had learned, though he had no idea exactly when, it was that he loved Martin. That the word came so naturally to him that it scared him. That he wanted so desperately to be by Martin’s side, and would do just about anything to keep him safe.

By the time they’d reached the safehouse, the confessions were already hanging implicitly in the air, as if they’d both always known.

Soon enough, a request for confirmation was spoken out loud between them, when the night air was cold and they were both safe in the warmth inside.

“What you said-”

“Yes?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes.”

Everything changed between them, without it changing much at all.

And Jon knew with absolute certainty that he never wanted to lose this. Even if the all too powerful question of why was always right at the tip of his tongue. The question of why Martin loved the Archivist. And why he could possibly have fallen in love with Jon even before Jon knew what he was.

Because at the back of Jon’s mind, he couldn’t help but think about how little they knew about one another, despite simultaneously knowing far too much. He couldn’t help but think about how Martin most likely had an image of what a relationship between them was supposed to look like.

That part hurt. Made him flinch on his own when he thought too much about it.

People could never just know when they agreed to be in a relationship with Jon. The fact that Martin knew of the Archivist, knew of the entities and the impending threat of the world ending, but didn’t know of something so seemingly trivial, was almost funny.

Jon kissed Martin and he loved every single part of it. The soft embrace and the way Martin wanted Jon to kiss him, wanted the kiss to last, was intoxicating in ways Jon could hardly describe.

And Martin never asked if they could go further. It felt like a blessing, though Jon knew logically, that it was simply because the whole thing hadn’t lasted long enough for the question to come up. But it would. It always did.

Jon wanted to wait until it did. Wanted to live in this beautiful world where Martin loved him and he could love Martin freely and openly. Even if he knew that world wouldn’t last for multiple reasons.

But that would be selfish.

Martin had lived through hell, and he was now with the person he loved. It should be simple from there. Martin deserved it being simple, and Jon couldn’t help but despise himself even just a little bit, for knowing he was once again the complication.

Jon adored Martin, thought he was one of the most beautiful things left in the world, and the kindest person he’d ever encountered. He was beyond privileged for being able to cradle Martin’s face in his hands and kiss him, and feel that wonderful warmth directed at Jon of all people.

But the simple question would come eventually. A question of when rather than if, sometimes disguised as the latter.

Do you want to have sex?

And Jon would freeze up, as he’d done in the past. If he was even lucky enough for it to be a question rather than an initiating action he wouldn’t know how to break off.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t. He’d do it for Martin, he thought, if Martin needed it to stay. But it didn’t really matter so much whether he could, because if the want wasn’t there, it most likely wouldn’t be enough. Not like he’d be any good at it if he tried.

The least selfish thing he could do, would be to bring it up to Martin. As soon as possible, before things went too far for Martin to be able to back out. If he even would. That scared Jon too. He wasn’t sure which thought terrified him more: the idea that Martin would leave, or that he wouldn’t, even if he wanted to.

He could easily imagine it, telling Martin the truth, and Martin would smile at him as he always did. He’d say it’s okay, but Jon would be able to hear the vague disappointment. The slight regret.

That sort of thing built up slowly, until the tower was toppled. 

Perhaps it was silly to think this was what would do it, after everything that had happened, after everything Martin had seen and experienced.

The sunk cost fallacy.

It took Jon so selfishly long to bring it up. Indulging in the reason to get up in the mornings and make breakfast, the reason to see light at the end of the tunnel, and the reason to smile after everything. Without adding to one of the many reasons Jon wasn’t by any means the perfect man to be with.

As the right time never seemed to come, he ended up settling on a night where a comfortable silence had fallen between them. The two were resting next to one another in bed, and for a moment too long, the silence had left Jon alone with his thoughts. And he figured now was as good a time as any.

“Martin?”

“Yeah?” There was a smile behind almost every word Martin spoke to him, in these fleeting days of domestic bliss.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to… Mention.” Jon had gone over every word of this potential conversation in his head, and yet right then he couldn’t seem to recall any of it.

Martin inched closer, “Yeah?”

“It uhm…” he exhaled, already at a loss for words. And wasn’t that unfair, that the Archivist who saw so much, could extract so much, was hardly able to articulate things when he needed it? “It’s just a personal thing… Something I- I thought you should know. Before we go any further with this.”

Martin’s eyes furrowed with some concern, “What is it, Jon?”

Hearing his name made him exhale shakily. He shut his eyes and tried to find the words, “It- it doens’t have to matter. But I’m asexual.” Before Martin could respond, Jon quickly followed up with the explanation he’d grown used to, “I don’t- I don’t experience… attraction, in the sexual sense.”

“Oh,” Martin said, and Jon wasn’t certain what the tone meant. Uncertainty, waiting.

“I love you, Martin. O-of course I do. You are absolutely beautiful in every way, and I don’t ever want you to doubt that.” he dared to look Martin in the eyes for a moment, and caught a hint of that faint glow that always seemed to be there when they were close like this, “But there are certain things I can’t- I don’t feel. And it’d be unfair to you, to- i don’t know, lead you on? To make you think I can feel something in that way at some point.” 

He paused, letting the words land before he added, “But like I said, it doesn’t have to matter. I can still try to- to do something.”

There was silence, and Jon was unsure what sort of blow he was waiting for. 

Then, he felt Martin wrap his arms around him and pull closer, Martin’s head soon resting against his chest. “Of course it matters. What- what you feel. It matters.” 

Jon’s mouth gaped slightly, as Martin looked up at him, with that same pure adoration he always seemed to hold, “I love you Jon, God you make it sound like I’d ever want to leave.”

“What?”

“Do you think that’s why I’m here, Jon? Just to have a quick- a quick shag?” he smiled a bit through the joking words.

“No no, that’s not what I mean, Martin. I- I want you to know that I’d understand. That I want you to be as happy as possible and that even if you do- love me… There are some things I might not be able to give you.”

Martin laughed, quietly as if it was some private joke he had with himself, “I don’t care, Jon. I just want you here.”

The last words were soft, so genuine that they caught Jon off-guard. None of the expected disappointment or regret. “Oh,”

Martin looked at him, “Are you alright with kissing?”

It seemed like a strange question to ask, after the past few days where kisses had been something Jon had held so dear, but Jon could hardly bear the implications.

Have I crossed a boundary?

If I have, I’ll stop.

And I’ll still love you all the same.

“Yes,” the word came out like a whisper, but held much more feeling than Jon could describe, “I love kissing- kissing you.”

Martin leaned forward and kissed Jon with so much adoration, so much passion, and love, that Jon was once again amazed he could possibly have something this wonderful right beside him.

Martin spoke, when he eventually pulled away, “Thank you for telling me,” he smiled carefully, “I’m sorry if I ever made you think it would change anything.”

Jon had no idea what to say to that, so he decided to kiss Martin again, hold him close and safe so that he could make this moment feel eternal.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #scottish safehouse #fic #fanfiction #tma fanfic

[pixie-mask]

What’s the list of Hackearney fics youd want physical copies of? I need recommendations

omg screaming because I have never done fic recs before. Some of these are long and some are just one or two chapters. So uh...here I go

💖Family by Tianasina

This is the first one I ever read and it is just the sweetest and most loving story. I adore it.

💖The Cards We Are Dealt by cellard00rs

THIS ONE! This one is so 👏🏽 damn 👏🏽 outstanding👏🏽! Omg. This is the one that made me talk about buying published versions of the hackearney fics. It's so addictive and it hurts, but it also makes you smile. In addition to just writing all the canon characters well, the added characters are as enjoyable or hated as they need to be. It's amazing!!! Sorry if I over-gushed on this one!

💖 Wrapped in Chains & Cellophane also by cellard00rs

Only just started. Two chapters in and I'm hooked and waiting and excited!

💖Close call by Emerald_jedi

I read this one cause I'm a masochist. look as many fics as I'm going to post I'm just going to remind you to heed the tags on the fic, but this one is rather in the title and focused on suicide. It only hurts, but it's good. On a personal note, this one hit home.

💖Decay by xenobia4

Same as above I also read this cause I'm a masochist. Heed the tags.

💖Soft, Rehabilitation, and No Hard Feelings all by Professional_Creeper

Fluff. Especially the first two, that's pure fluff. No Hard Feelings is like... self-esteem angst comfort fluff sex

💖bite the hand that needs you by absentheart

4 chapters in and thoroughly interesting, going a different and interesting way with the "Laura recaptured route"

💖The Garden of Moonlit Grief by dustoftheancients

I'm just pulling these off the top of my head as they come, but omg I'm developing the same feelings I have for The Cards We Are Dealt with this story. Loving it so much and the idea of the setting and the writing of Laura and Travis and the horror of the story is 👏🏽 so 👏🏽 amazing👏🏽!!!

💖Mother’s Meddling by BootyShortsJacob

Unexpected AU where Constance is actually trying to do something nice for Travis. The development of the two is a bit different than most fics but interesting none the less. As of this it’s one sided, but still loving it. Also it has just the most hateable bitch.

💖Ruthless Good Intentions by firebirdnonnette

A slow burn like no other that I’ve read. An engaging slow burn that does well with handling the trauma that Laura and Travis have after everything. Reading how they come together in this is actually so fascinating and warming. Its gooooood👏🏽!

💖the flesh of Nyctimus by Anonymous

Another alternate take on the ending where Travis re-captures Laura. The state these two are in is so hostile, but well done that it doesn’t feel like...depressingly hostile I want to say I guess. It’s done with believability for the two and as the story is set it presents it own intriguing mystery of events.

💖A Wolf’s Mate by deadbadwolf

Been fairly familiar and on top of this one since basically it’s little inception.✌🏼 Werewolf mates, which I don’t think I’ve really seen in the fic department. Things are only just just kicking off and the first chapter is the cutest thing. The most open affection from the word go as well💗

That’s all I have and way more than I thought I would recommend. Personal things aside, but these are all good and my favs. As a reminder heed the tags I did not want to rewrite all the tags present per-fic so make sure you check just in case.

Anyway I hope you enjoy some of the recommendations. Happy reading

Edit: Wanted to also mention the ability to come up with good titles. 

#Travis Hackett #Laura Kearney #hackearney #fan fiction #asks for me #asks #fic recs #fan fic

[thequeensownketchup]

It’s coming up to exam season so here are some top tips from a gay with adhd and an A average.

1) spend time learning exam technique/question structure. It’s boring, it feels pointless but it’s so worth doing. I was consistently failing mocks of a paper last year and I couldn’t work out what I was doing wrong because I understood the theory so well and I was revising so hard.

Roughly two hours before the final paper I was shitting bricks going through all my notes and talking to people in my class until I actually figured out how I was supposed to be structuring my answers and immediately went up 5 GRADES. Learn your exam structure people.

2) If you generally study better with music that’s fine but I would say it’s definitely worth doing practice questions/past papers in as close to exam conditions as you can manage. I understand it’s much harder (trust me, I hate doing it) but getting comfortable working in those conditions before the exam is definitely preferable to being terrified of them during the exam.

3) REWARDS! Reward your studying. That includes making the studying a more enjoyable experience as a reward for getting on with it. Finding somewhere nice and clean and quiet to work where working is actually what you want to do such as a local library or an empty classroom at school so much easier and less daunting. Have a cup of your preferred beverage at the ready while you do it, especially if it’s something you find particularly hard/boring. Embrace the “study aesthetic vibe” because it gets you in that mindset.

4) If you’re feeling overwhelmed, Make a list of homework i.e work that needs to be handed in, ideas for personal revision i.e flash cards, notes, mind maps, practice questions etc + a rough estimate of how long you want to spend revising, a third list of non school related things you need to get done and finally a list of non school related things you’d like to get done.

If you have as much to do as you think, now you have a decent start point to a plan with things already roughly prioritised but often I find I don’t have nearly enough to do as I think.

And last bit probably most importantly

5) CHOOSE TO TAKE BREAKS. Everyone says to take breaks but often I find that just stopping working isn’t enough. Consciously decide whether to continue to work or to take a break. If you’re deciding to take a break do it properly, shut your books, make a drink go somewhere else or just move your chair back and fully rest. I wouldn’t suggest doing something that you can lose time too much in (I.e scrolling) because you don’t appreciate your break as much. Try reading, looking/going outside, thinking about something completely different for a while and really allow yourself to be doing it. You are being productive. You’re looking after yourself. If you’re stressed about spending too long on your break set a timer because this is just as important.

Keep well, look after yourself and good luck! You only fail when you don’t try, the rest of the time you just haven’t succeeded yet.

#study #exams #school #work ethic #work #revision #actually adhd

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 30 - Hanging Out

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 4344

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse.

Notes: Red Son, MK, and Mei hang out together. Some self-actualizing is done.

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

“What is this ‘hanging out’” for?” Red Son asks.

It is in the evening after work at the noodle shop has ended. The sun has just started setting and the streetlights are starting to turn on. He was expecting to head back to the boathouse alone like any other night, but MK and Mei had stopped him before he left and suggested that they “hang out” together. The familiar tug of a strange emotion twitched in his chest, but he was unsure of how to react to the offer.

“Ya know, like, spending some time together?” Mei replies in a tone that sounds incredulous that she has to explain this.

“Yes, yes, but for what purpose? Training? Is there some other demon causing trouble in the city again that you need help destroying?”

“No, we were just gonna go out and have fun, and we thought we’d see if you wanted to join!” MK says happily, and unfazed at his questions.

“‘Have fun…? With me?” Red Son points to himself.

“Well yeah!” Mei says. “We figured that if you were gonna be part of our crew now, we should hang out together more! Haven’t you ever just done something, or spent time with people you like for the fun of it?”

Red Son starts tugging at the flame pendant on his hair tie, rubbing his thumb over the smooth metallic surface. “I’ve… trained… or built things, or planned evil schemes with my parents…” Red Son looks back. It’s not like scheming or building or training wasn’t enjoyable to Red Son. So that meant ‘fun’, right?

“No, like, for no other reason than because you wanted to,” Mei offers.

Red Son thinks hard. He supposes that’s what baking and cooking was. That was fun, right? But he was still new at that. Is that what a ‘hobby’ is? That’s what Sandy had said. Not for any specific purpose, just for personal enrichment and enjoyment. But ‘hanging out’ with ‘friends’ was different, right? He didn’t really do that. There weren’t many people for Red Son to do that with other than his parents. And even then, they didn’t really want to do anything together with him that didn't have a purpose at the end anyway. Did he ever have someone else to do that with? Other than maybe the errant demon that he partnered with for some scheme or plan. He isn’t sure. He starts sweating. How long was it since he said something? He should probably say something. What should he say?!

MK must have sensed his distress because he speaks up, “Wwwell, you can do that with us now? We kind of haven’t had much time to relax after all that happened with Spider Queen, and having to clean up the city and work at the shop. We deserve to kick back and enjoy ourselves. Refuel, you know?”

Red Son blinks. The wording MK uses reminds him of what Sandy said back when he was recovering at the boathouse about “just being” and “refueling”. Maybe that’s part of what he meant, too. Red Son still hasn’t given a reply.

MK hesitates, “If.. if you want to that is? Like, it’s cool if you don’t feel comfortable with hanging ou–”

“I want to!” Red Son blurts out, louder than intended. But he realized that he hadn’t actually responded, and had to say something! He coughs to hide his eagerness and says in a more controlled tone. “Yes, I mean, I would like to hang out.” He nods once to solidify his affirmation.

A look passes between MK and Mei and they share a smile.

“Well, come on then, Red Boy!” Mei says, looping an arm around Red Son’s own, and pulling him along with them; MK taking up Red Son’s other side, though being a bit more courteous of his personal space.

What follows is a trip through the city like Red Son has never had. With all of his and his family’s plans on taking it over, he realizes that he never actually experienced the city. As they walk around, he admires the lights of the various signs and shops around the city that had turned on since nightfall, bathing the pathways in a chaotic and vibrant neon. They skirt around various people and stalls, everyone moving about in a lively manner. Many noises and smells, both pleasant and not pleasant, float around the air. Red Son never realized how alive the city was at night. Most of his nights were spent alone in his workshop back home. MK and Mei smile back at him as he quietly observes everything, and before he can say anything, the Dragon Girl is dragging him into the closest mall.

They first went around some shops, trying on various clothes. MK and Mei start trying on various outfits, parading around like some fashion show. Some of their clothing choices are incredibly gaudy and silly, in Red Son’s opinion. Feather boas are wholly unnecessary. Some other clothes they try on are much more fashionable; MK putting on some smart-looking jackets, and Mei picking a variety of accessories to compliment her outfits. Somehow Red Son, too, is wrapped up in the fashion montage. Though impractical, Red Son would say the light-up clothing they insisted he tried on was nicely flashy. The suit and fancy, fire-patterned tie were much more respectable, but certainly not his style. What he ends up in is a sensible black turtleneck shirt with red lines crossing over it in a lava-like pattern, and a red jacket with a slightly less sensible amount of pockets and straps, and a large hood and collar. “Techwear” they called it. The outfit is comfortable and Red Son likes the colors, so he goes with it. He also manages to finally pick up some glasses to replace the old ones he cracked. At the check-out counter, an odd sense of pride fills his chest upon realizing that the outfit is the first thing he has bought for himself with the money he made at the noodle shop. He happily wears it out of the store, and he can’t help but admire the new style any time they pass by windows or other reflective surfaces; a swell of confidence filling in his chest every time.

Afterwards, MK and Mei take him to some places to eat. It is largely street food, much like the noodle stand that Red Son at one point attempted to run. They try a large amount of fried foods; Red Son picking out all the spiciest options he could. Though Red Son isn’t a fan of sweet foods, the other two absolutely insisted that he had some boba tea. He is hesitant at first, but they eventually decide on one that would go well with the spicier items Red Son had been eating. It was a mango tea with boba, reminding him of Sandy’s tea, but with a much more commercial and sweet punch. Red Son had to admit he liked the tapioca “bubbles” themselves; chewing on them absently as they wandered around the shops. He realizes that the chewing sensation had a similar grounding effect to playing with his new hair tie - both similarly satisfying physical sensations.

They then land at the arcade. Red Son is immediately enamored with the games they show him. There were games in there where you were allowed to hit things, or use controllers to hit things within the little game world. What fire demon wouldn’t love the prospect of destroying everything in his path, virtual or otherwise? The three of them go around playing various games, either taking turns at certain machines, or competing with each other at others. While Red Son had slowly started growing to his usual loud and boisterous self throughout the night, it is here that his usual volume maxed out, as he yelled and laughed at the variety of electronic entertainment. At a point, his maniacal cackling got perhaps a bit too loud, and some others took issue with that, and a group of players at the arcade started yelling at him. Somehow Mei managed to yell at them even louder.

“It’s an arcade! Everything is loud in here! Let my friend enjoy the games he likes in the way he likes!” She stomps in front of Red Son and sticks her face in the face of one of the others.

One side of Red Son enjoys the chaos of the Dragon Girl - her fire easily matches his own. The other part of him attempts to hide a blush at the positive reinforcement and being called a “friend”.

MK, much more calmly, tries to convince Mei to let it go and for all of them to leave, saying that he has video games at home.

Mei huffs out a “fine” and they exit the arcade.

As they leave, Red Son can’t help but feel his heart sink slightly. “Well, I suppose, that means the night is over. I enjoyed ‘hanging out’”

“You’re leaving? I was serious about having video games at home…?” MK says, confused.

“Yeah, don’t you wanna come?” Mei says.

Red Son blinks, “Well, yes, but, it’s late and I don’t live where you live…?” Red Son answers just as confused.

“I mean, you could just sleep over? Mei does it all the time.” MK says with a shrug.

Mei nods in agreement, and says, “Yeah, and we’re closer to MK’s place than Sandy’s or mine, so it’d just make sense!”

“I.. can?” he realizes that this must also be a part of “hanging out” that he missed. “Sleepovers” were a thing, right? But another thought crosses his mind. Yes, it had been a fun day, but this was a bit more… intimate than he’d thought. He was surprised the two of them were comfortable with “sleeping with the enemy”, even if the “enemy” part was former, he wasn’t sure. “Are… are you sure that’s okay?” Red Son asks, earnestly.

The two of them smile. MK nods, “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ve got some extra pillows and blankets, if you wanna use them.”

“Then, yes!” Red Son’s smile turns to something more manic. “And I call first dibs on the games.”

“Aww man!” Mei grumbles.

“I’ve got some multi-player stuff, but sure, as long as you don’t try to burn down my consoles if you lose, like you almost did with that one arcade game,” MK chuckles.

“Who says I’ll lose, Noodle Boy?”

They banter a bit until they get back to MK’s place. They pick up some snacks at a convenience store along the way. The extra snacks and sugary drinks end up keeping them up and playing games late into the night. Red Son successfully does not burn down MK’s consoles, but doesn’t successfully win every time. Still they all have a lot of fun, cycling through various fighting and racing games.

It technically turns into the next day when things start to quiet down, and MK puts in some “Adventures of Monkey King” videos. Red Son is not very interested in it, but he feels a strange sense of calm, and leans back amongst the pillows and blankets they’ve all pushed into a pile to lean on. He throws a couple of super spicy chips in his mouth and crunches contentedly as the show drones on, letting the sappy dialogue pass over him. Red Son smirks softly at MK. He looks so enamored at the show, even though this must be the millionth time he’s seen it if the info-dumps he gives about it while working at the shop are of any indication. Mei leans back on the pillow pile next to Red Son. She squirms a bit as if trying and failing to get comfortable. Suddenly she is very close to Red Son and leans her face towards him giving him an odd look.

“What is it?” Red Son asks. Dragon Girl is not very good at giving him personal space. Though he supposes he’s become somewhat used to that.

“You’re very warm!” she says.

Red Son’s hair flickers and he grabs at his braid to prevent further flames. “W-what?”

“I mean like literally.” She puts her hands up towards him as if warming her hands over a fire. “You’re like, unnaturally warm!”

“Well, I am a fire demon!” Red Son says, matter of factly. “What did you expect?”

“I dunno, but that’s kind of neat!” She plops down next to him, as if basking in his natural warmth.

Red Son becomes somewhat stiff. He’s not used to this. Any of this really. It’s a little much. But not completely unpleasant. Sandy was the first one in a while to show him that one could find comfort in friendly pats and hugs. But he normally asked first. Red Son is not used to having someone just so open with hugs. He’s seen Mei and MK hanging off each other, so casual and relaxed in their friendly affection. It made Red Son confused. But also wishing that he knew what that was like. Now that he is presented with it, he isn’t sure how to react.

“Is that all right?” MK asks.

Red Son snaps out of his thoughts and finally notices that MK has stopped watching the show and is now looking at him. When he doesn’t respond, MK switches his attention to the Dragon Girl. “Mei, you can’t just tell someone they’re warm and then lean on them like that without asking. Personal space, remember?”

“Oh, right, haha! Sorry, Red. I just thought it was kinda cool!” She quickly leaves some space between the two of them.

Red Son is surprised to find that the sudden loss of contact hurts more for some reason, and he stiffens further. There’s an unexpected tightness in his chest. The feeling of relaxation is lost completely.

“Are.. are you okay, Red Son? I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool of me.” Mei says.

Red Son speaks in a jittery way, “No- ah, I mean. It’s okay. You can.. You can lean on me if you want to. I just… “  He squirms a little. He doesn’t really know what to say, but he also doesn’t want to make things more awkward than they are. His eyes flicker around the room, and finally land on MK, in what he’s sure is a deer-in-the-headlights sort of expression.

MK’s furrowed brows quickly bounce up in a look of understanding. “Red Son,” he says, firmly getting his attention. “Is it okay if I come closer?” MK asks.

Red Son slowly nods.

“Ok, cool.”

MK sits next to him, but at a healthier distance than earlier, and he continues to sit like that while watching the show. Mei follows suit on his other side - close, but not as close as earlier. Half an episode of the show later, MK shifts a bit and casually points to a pillow directly next to Red Son. “I’m going to move over here now, okay?”

At this point Red Son had gotten so used to them at their current distance, it doesn’t seem as terribly close as before. Red Son nods. He also gestures to Mei on his other side to show she can also move closer if she wants to. They continue watching the show.

The next episode starts and after MK is done mouthing the words to the opening sequence as usual, he calmly asks Red Son, like asking the weather, “You’re okay with us leaning on you? Or hugging you?”

Both of them were already within leaning distance, anyway. And Red Son finds that them being so close is nice, and it feels more natural. He thinks for a moment, and finds that he would like that. “Yes.”

“Okay,” MK says.

He doesn’t right away, but as the show goes on, slowly both he and Mei get closer to Red Son until they’re in what the Dragon Girl calls a “cuddle pile”. The relaxed feeling from earlier is much more pronounced now. He never thought he’d feel this safe around other people, but safe and content is what he is feeling. The other two also have obvious looks of contentment on their face. It’s late and all of them are feeling very drowsy.

“Mei was right, you are really warm,” MK says lazily.

“Must be nice being a fire demon - you never get cold,” Mei says.

Red Son hums sleepily. The TV is basically white noise at this point, and the warmth from his two friends feels like a blanket has been wrapped around him. His eyes start feeling heavy and the moments of his eyes blinking closed become longer. The room starts feeling darker, and the weight of tiredness, heavier. He quietly murmurs a response to Mei, “Yeah, fire demons are warm all the time…”

 He is cold.

 He is kneeling on the ground, hugging himself and trying to stay warm.

 Blue embers glow around him, half-heartedly making an effort to become flame.

 A shiver runs up his spine and he hears heavy hooves stomp towards him.

 The embers spark slightly, but instead of glowing brighter, they are pulled towards a large, horned figure standing across from Red Son, until all light from them is lost and they are no more than black coals.

 Red Son, too, feels a tug from himself towards the figure. Any remaining heat he has left is siphoned away, and with it, any sense of himself. The pull becomes stronger and his own form begins to waver like a dying flame. Just like the embers, his form flickers and then disappears, having been completely absorbed by his father.

He wakes up shivering. He can’t tell if it’s his trembling form or his friends calling his name that finally brings him to consciousness. It’s dark in the room except for the glow of the television, its light bouncing fuzzily off of the concerned faces of his companions. Mei has one hand on gripping tightly to her chest, and the other rubbing up and down Red Son’s shoulder as if trying to warm him.

“...I don’t know what happened, something felt wrong, and then he got really cold!” Her eyes flicker back and forth to MK, looking to him for answers.

Red Son shakily shifts his face to the Noodle Boy. There is a slight resistance as he realizes that MK is holding his head; one hand cushioning the back of his head and the other cupping his cheek. He feels the warmth coming from MK’s hand on his face, but can’t figure out why he, himself, feels cold.

Noticing that Red Son’s gaze finally meets his own, MK grips his face slightly more firmly to maintain eye contact.

“Red Son, can you hear me?”

Red Son’s chattering teeth prevent him from speaking, but he nods as best he can in MK’s hold.

“Okay, what’s wrong? Can you create fire or something to make yourself warm?”

Warm. Warm? Right. FIre is warm. What is wrong with him? He can’t have lost his powers again.

“Try taking some deep breaths or something if you can,” MK encourages.

Red Son nods again, remembering Sandy’s breathing exercises, and pulls in some deep breaths. The first few are shaky, but they slowly become smooth, and with each breath he feels warmer. Red Son shifts his hands out in front of him. Both MK and Mei give him some room, but maintain a hold on the back of his head and shoulder.

He reaches out with his powers. He can feel the warmth between his companions, and in the room itself. He can still feel some fire within himself as well. He takes some more deep breaths, and it feels like the fire is flowing through his body more freely. He brings his hands to his mouth and then breathes on them, as if warming cold hands on a winter morning. Small puffs of fire flow out of his mouth and billow around his hands, bathing himself and the others in a warm light. The action brings pulses of heat back to his body. He takes one last deep breath, pulling in any remaining flames and his shivering stops completely. He settles down and looks up at the other two.

“Thanks,” he says tiredly.

A look of relief washes over MK’s features, and his form visibly relaxes. Mei, on the other hand, is still looking around wildly. “What the heck was that?!” she exclaims, but thankfully keeps her voice just below a yell.

Red Son fingers the braid in his hair. “I had a nightmare,” he said flatly, a bit too tired to give a more emotive reaction.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” MK says quietly.

“I thought you said you’re always warm! What kind of nightmare just stops your powers?!” Mei says, less quietly.

Red Son looks down at his hair tie, pensively. “I- it was a dream about… when I lost my powers, I think… Maybe-” he again feels the smooth surface of the hair tie and thinks about Sandy’s meditation lessons regarding his powers and emotions- “Maybe it caused my powers to just react to how I was feeling.”

“I guess that makes sense,” MK nods thoughtfully, before looking back at the fire demon with concern. “Was that what it was like? Were you cold that entire time?”

Red Son nods solemnly.

“Oh right, you didn’t have your powers, for like, months, huh? That must’ve sucked.” Mei says.

“Yeah, it did,” Red Son says matter of factly. “But I suppose I deserved it after stupidly giving my father the Samadhi Fire.”

MK’s brows knit together. Red Son hopes that bringing up The Fire didn’t distress him. “He had the Samadhi Fire, though. What happened to the rest of your powers?” A sudden look of horror crosses his face. “Wait! That wasn’t my fault was it? I put out The Fire, but I didn’t mean to, like, put out all of the fire.”

Red Son quickly shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t you. It was my father. When I gave him the Fire of Samadhi, he… accidentally took all of my powers.”

“Well, that was pretty awful of him!” Mei says, crossing her arms in indignation.

A different kind of horror graces MK’s face. “Then how… how did you get so injured after that…?” As he turns his gaze on Red Son, his features harden into something very serious. For some reason Red Son looks away.

He shrugs and says, “That was my father, too. He, uhm…” Red Son looks off to nothing in particular, the painful memory churning back up. “The fire was too much for him, I think, so he.. didn’t stop when he absorbed all of it, and took my fire with it. And then he… attacked me… He wasn’t pleased… I mean… it was kind of my fault, I didn’t think that the fire would overwhelm him, and I… uhm–.” There is an unexpected break in his voice, and his mouth flaps a bit unsure of what to say next. He feels a gentle squeeze on his left arm and right hand. He looks to see MK and Mei holding on to him and looking at him nervously. His eyes glisten dangerously, so he moves his arms, releasing their hold and rubs at his face. He’s tired. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that day up…”

“That wasn’t your fault, Red Son!” MK says. “You didn’t deserve that!”

“What?” Red Son looks at MK suddenly. He shakes his head sternly, denying the statement altogether. “N-no I very much made some stupid decisions regarding the Monkey King and the True Fire of Samadhi, and I attacked you - that was definitely my fault.”

“No! I mean about your dad!”

Mei pipes up in agreement, “Yeah, what your dad did to you is not cool! Like, isn’t that what he wanted all along? To defeat the Monkey King! You do that and he not only steals your powers, but... attacks you, too?! That’s messed up!”

“Well, I offered the Samadhi Fire to him. It wasn’t his fault he went nuts. As a fire demon, I should’ve known better–”

“As your dad, he should’ve known better! He should’ve done better! It’s not your fault that he hurt you!” MK says adamantly, a fierce glint in his eyes as he looks at Red Son, determined to make him understand.

And something in what he says clicks, causing his mind to reel and his heart to beat soundly. Throughout his healing process, and the process of making things up to the Monkey King, MK, and his friends, he knew that there were parts of this whole mess that were his fault. That he had to make amends for. And that was good and important. But suddenly he realizes why his relationship with Sandy felt like the father-son relationship he had wanted with the Demon Bull King. Suddenly he realizes why he felt longing while observing the friendship that the Noodle Boy and his companions have. Suddenly he realizes that what he had with his family was not normal. It wasn’t. Wasn’t it? It took Mei and MK saying it outright, in such a clear way. Yes, he thought something was wrong, but it was like there was something obscuring that idea from actually falling into place. And it finally does. Right then and there. Like a puzzle piece finally finding a fit. And it impacts him in a way he didn’t think it would.

Tears start pouring down his face. And for once it is without loud sobs or complaining or theatrics. He looks up at his friends, searching their faces, though he doesn’t know what for. It’s quiet in the room, as the tears fall unbidden. MK and Mei hug him gently, which causes the tears to increase into large, wet, cathartic globs. He welcomes the hug and lets the tears flow.

Eventually, he falls asleep in the warm and safe embrace of his friends, and is unbothered by dreams as they sleep late into the morning.

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