#.....i need to get back on my laptop and draft more pictures

[amphibia-a-day]

Day 1152 of Amphibia Screenshots

Episode: All In

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ THE SILENT TREATMENT ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ skz ot8 x any reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤangst, fluff ㅤ warnings insecurities, arguing, crying, cursing ㅤ﹢ㅤ300 per member wc

◗ ៹ BANG CHAN ›

Silent treatment, that one thing you hated from the bottom of your heart. And Chan was giving it to you, for a small mistake.

Well, you wanted to transfer some pictures from his laptop to your phone and you almost deleted his song drafts. Almost! But he caught you in the act of restoring everything and screamed so loud it could be heard down the street.

Then an argument broke out where he argued about you being careless and you argued about how they are not deleted and that is what matters. He argued back about how they could have been and then it led to a cold war.

Right now, you were both just giving each other silent treatment, both of your egos too big to back out. But now you were contemplating whether you should because you missed him, it has been two days since you both talked.

Just then Chan entered the room as you swiftly got up and you both simultaneously spoke, "I am sorry." You were beyond relieved at this as you jumped into his embrace and he stumbled back trying to hold you.

"I am so sorry, I am stupid," you said as he stayed silent. You looked at him narrowing your eyes as he shrugged saying, "If you are waiting for me to disagree, it will be a long day."

"Well then Chan, fuck you," you said as he smirked, "Yeah we need to make up for the two days."

Placing a small kiss on your lips he said, "We need to make up for the kisses and cuddles not done in two days too," and you nodded in agreement.

◗ ៹ LEE MINHO ›

You hung your head low thinking of ways of apologising to him. Even though it was not your fault you wanted to apologise first because it was too much for you to handle.

It was not your fault that the bartender was flirting with you, you did try to wave him off.

But that persistent person did not leave you alone which made Minho pretty angry. He stared at the bartender poking his tongue inside his cheeks before he left dragging you out with him.

And you two didn't even have any argument before he started the silent treatment.

You have poked him, literally, many times and stood in front of him blocking his way trying to make him talk but all was in vain. So now you were thinking of newer ways.

You made some cold coffee for yourself and sat down sipping on it lightly and suddenly Minho took it out of your hands and took a sip sitting beside you. "You know we are indirectly kissing," you half joked wanting him to break but nothing.

What tortured you more was the fact he was doing everything he usually does, except talking to you and of course, was depriving you of any physical affection.

You clung your body to him, hugging him sideways and you thought he would get away but he made no attempts to. "Come on, forgive me already, it was not my fault," you whined right beside his ears but he acted like he was deaf, eyes glued to his phone.

"Min please, you know I can't handle silent treatment, my mom did it too and trust me it hurts, like a bitch. It is one of the reasons I never give anyone silent treatment. You know these," hurt was evident in your voice as you said all those.

Still, when you got no reaction you just had enough and got up going to your bedroom. Tears pooled your eyes because you always thought the worst and now you felt like he would leave you.

Minho, on the other hand, realised he had gone overboard and with your overthinking mind you had now broken down. He threw the phone on the sofa ran up the stairs and urgently knocked on your door.

Before doing the second knock he pushed the door, seeing it was already unlocked just to see you standing on the balcony, blinking your eyes rapidly to stop the tears.

He went up to you and hugged you from behind he kissed your neck. He felt you relax in his embrace and cleaned your tears dry before kissing you on the nose.

That was enough for you to realise he was joking and he would never leave.

◗ ៹ SEO CHANGBIN ›

"How about you ask Seungmin to give you a ride home?" were the last words Changbin said to you over the phone. Now you were sitting in the car with him staring out the window.

There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air and you knew why. All because he was angry and jealous. And angry Changbin is scary Changbin.

You were laughing along every time Seungmin decided to destroy his members with his sarcastic lines, especially Changbin. But Seungmin accidentally made fun of him for being chubby which hurt him.

What hurt him more was you laughed along before you realised it now after that Seungmin hugged him which made him forgive him at once but when you decided to try that he just walked away.

And then after spending another half an hour with the 00' liners you decided to go home and here you were, in his car, when he is still angry.

"Changbin I am sorry, I didn't mean to," you said apologising to him again but he ignored you, again. You sighed throwing your head back on the car seat.

You gazed at him longingly, your eyes tracing his every feature as you put your hand on his which was free. "You look hot, driving with one hand," you voiced out unintentionally before widening your eyes in realisation.

He chuckled lowly before saying, "That is one way of making me talk." "Oh my god, you talked," you screamed in delight and you saw him pull the car to your house.

"Changbin I am sorry we joked about your insecurity, it was cruel of us," you said, being truly sorry for what you and Seungmin did.

"It is okay, mistakes happen, just I hope you don't repeat it," he says looking at you and smiling, dimples visible on his lower cheeks as you melted due to his smile.

"I promise, we won't, ever," you assured tracing your fingers along his knuckles. "Good," he smiled before leaning in and kissing you as you held his cheeks firmly, kissing him back. He parted for air but then you pulled him back, his laughter dying down in his throat.

And inside the safety of the metal bubble, a beautiful love was growing.

◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›

Hyunjin was being overdramatic, again! It was a regular phenomenon by now, but this time it was getting out of hand. He was screaming his lungs out just because of his hair.

You both went to the grocery store before to buy some ingredients and when you were walking home rain started pouring. Now, there was no shadow in the alley and thus you both started running. But, by the time you reached your home, you both were fully drenched.

He started screaming as soon as he entered saying he was wearing an expensive hair product and now his hair will be all ruined due to it getting wait. He blamed you for not taking an umbrella to which you replied that you were not suitable to know it would rain.

Your constant sarcastic replies and eye rolls pissed him and thus you both broke out in a big argument. And then you both were screaming curses at each other forgetting what the argument was about anyway.

And now you both were sitting across each other on the couch giving the very infamous silent treatment since both of your egos were too big.

You were aware that Hyunjin was a sensitive person and constantly feared if he would start crying. If he did, then you would break instantly and you knew it very well.

And he did break down after a few minutes, sniffing lightly, trying to keep as quiet as he could. That broke your heart. All the times before he had wailed out loudly like a child.

But this time he was quiet, trying not to gain your attention and make you feel guilty. But now you were feeling guiltier than usual.

You got up from your side and sat down beside him and saw his tear-stained face. "I am sorry," he croaked out and you instantly hugged him repeatedly saying that you were sorry too.

You kissed his tears dry and placed a kiss on his nose, his two eyelids and a longing one on his lips. You pulled back but he pulled you back making him sit on his lap.

"Works like a charm," he smirked as you groaned but deep down you knew those tears were real. "You don't have to hide your pain like that Hyunjin," you whispered as he smiled at you.

"I love you," he blurred out and you replied, "I love you more." "Impossible," he said as you laughed lightly in his embrace.

◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›

You and Han were throwing angry remarks at each other because of a stupid argument. At this point, none of you even remember what the argument was about.

After one point a very sudden stop came to your argument when you received a call from your mother. When you finished talking with her you noticed Jisung had already gone to bed.

You sighed softly before you made your way towards the bedroom and saw him sleep on one corner of the bed face turned away from you. You quickly did your night routine and sat up on the bed flicking the light switch off.

The cool breeze of the air conditioner blew in the darkroom as you contemplated your sleeping positions for a few minutes. Then you scooted closer to him before placing a hand on his hair.

Gently stroking it from the back you put another of your arm around his waist. "Ugh, I hate arguing with you, you are too irresistible to resist," you murmured as he turned towards you taking you by surprise.

"Yeah, you scared me," you laughed but he gave no response as you realised he was giving you the silent treatment. "No, please, not the silent treatment," you whined as his eyes bored into yours.

"Come on Ji, please," you threw a small tantrum throwing your body into his arms but he didn't hug back. Suddenly you thought of a plan as you started tickling him.

"Oh my god, stop," he screamed out throwing you off his body as you laughed heartily which he joined soon after. "You make it very hard to stay angry," he said in between his laughs.

He jumped over your body kissing you all over your face as you lay on the bed giggling. Giving a longing kiss on your lips you both smiled like two teenagers in love.

You loved the way you loved him, and you would gladly do it for life. So would he.

◗ ៹ LEE FELIX ›

"Well sometimes Mr Brownie Lee, I would like a brownie too," you screamed at him as he briskly ignored you flipping through the television channels.

"Oh do not even think of silent treatment," you whined as he gave no reply or acknowledged your presence. "You know what, I will make some myself," you said as you left the room gloomily.

Felix got a little concerned about you using the kitchen but let you nevertheless. After a few moments, he heard a scream as he ran towards the kitchen.

Walking inside he saw you holding your hand under cold, running water and a knife with a little blood beside it. "Why can't you be safe?" he grumbled holding up your hands and gently rubbing them underwater.

"Hey, you are talking," you exclaimed happily as he sighed kissing your forehead softly murmuring a soft 'I am sorry' in his deep voice.

"It is okay," you hummed out as he suggested, "Let's make them together after your finger is healed." You nodded in agreement, your insides bubbling in happiness.

"By the way, what were you doing with a knife for making brownies?" he asked being genuinely curious as you laughed nervously saying, "You do not have to know."

◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›

"No Seungmin you do not understand. I have nothing with you not holding hands or any other affection in public. But even behind the doors, you do nothing. It is not fine, I have given you three months to loosen up but sometimes I will get impatient too if you keep being so unresponsive to every affection," you screamed finally getting rid of all the frustrations in your mind.

For the first two months, it was okay, but now you felt impatient. You just wanted a simple kiss or just a hug but he did nothing. Nothing.

Seungmin stayed quiet, absorbing your every word before he left the room and slammed the door after entering the bedroom. You sat down on his couch contemplating whether you should just leave and go to your apartment or you should apologise right now. But your alter ego said otherwise as it felt you did nothing wrong.

You clutched your head in your hands thinking of ways to approach him because he would never do it to you. 'There you go, making the first moves again,' a part of your mind screamed and you just wanted to cry at that moment.

It was already two hours as the fight had ended and you were still there. You went up to drink a glass of water and after drinking you made your way towards his room.

Entering it you started talking, not exactly apologising but profusely trying to make him understand all your points as he stayed silent, not even looking at you.

"Fine, if you want to give the silent treatment, it is okay, I guess I deserve it," you sighed and left the room, well, tried to.

Seungmin quickly pulled you by your hand making you sit beside him on the bed as he said in a loud, clear voice, "I am sorry."

"Oh," you were surprised at the suddenness as he continued rambling on about how he should have been more compassionate and tried to understand how you feel. He also said that he would be more affectionate from now on.

His never-ending speech was boring you so you quickly pecked his cheeks and he stopped talking, staring at you with those puppy eyes.

You thanked the gods for making these kinds of ideas actually work in real life but the thinking process was cut off again.

Seungmin leaned in towards you, his lips ghosting over yours as he asked with a whisper, "May I kiss you?"

◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›

"You are always busy, you either have a big project coming up, or you have tuitions, or you have college classes. I realise it is hard for you and thus I do not meddle with anything you do. I do not drop you off at college because you are afraid of scandals. I do not meddle when you mix with your friends. I just want some time for myself, please. Is it too much for you to give? Because if it is then we should break up. I mean I am an idol who hardly gets any time and whenever I do, you are busy. In the next months, we will be on tour and I will not see you. But you know what? Nevermind!" Jeongin inhaled sharply after the long speech.

He left the room leaving you dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Your mind has stopped working as you thought of multiple ways to make this up.

You closed your laptop and scurried towards your room only to find it locked and you could hear Jeongin's sniffles from inside which broke your heart.

You felt guilty for what you have done because he was right. He was not those annoying boyfriends who were all over their partners' lives.

He did give you space, a lot. But you have just been increasing that every day. You sat down outside the door leaning on it as you could still hear him crying.

You patiently waited for him to open but he ignored all your calls and messages. An hour later he did open the door.

But he wasn't talking. You made multiple attempts to get him to talk and make him stop giving you the torturous silent treatment but none worked.

"Please Innie, I am sorry, I promise I will make up for every single moment I have missed, just please don't leave, I can't live without you," you choked out as a tear rolled out of Jeongin's eyes.

He turned to you hugging you before saying, "Do you know how much I love you to leave you?" you cried with him as his shirt got wet and whispered 'I love you too'.

Maybe, this time, you both will give effort to this relationship.

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤit was supposed to be really angsty but meh i can't write without fluff ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi ㅤ add to taglist

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[giveafike]

TLDR: Halloween with your boyfriend, Ben!

Word count + info: 4.8k. Dialogue (conversation and azzie commentary throughout).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW but also...lwky PG 13. Suggestive themes, but nothing too NSFW. Mention of a burn injury and gagging in between (in a SFW way) so if that's something to put you off, read cautiously!

Azzie Notes ✚: YAYY halloween post! I couldn't pick what kind of blurb to write so...I wrote a bunch of mini ones! I tried something new, idk if I fw this format or not, you guys lmk honestly how you feel about bulleted posts.

ALSO! Stay safe tonight guys! Idk about you guys but where I'm from, Halloween can get a bit crazy or out of control, so whatever you do tonight, be responsible and sensible for this weekend! And happy Diwali to anyone celebrating - diye jalein aur mithaiyan chalen 🤭 bas khushiyaan hi khushiyaan ho (someone send me ukadiche modak PUHLEASE) 🤍🪔

I'm literally writing this part on the train home from work lmao, I'm gonna get on my laptop and get the big story up too, idk why it didn't upload yday but it's not here in my drafts or scheduled anymore! I'll figure it out tho dw.

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike)

————————————————————————

Halloween'ing - B.T.S.

It must've been the very first time Ben was home for a holiday that wasn't Christmas or New Year's and God, were you excited.

Sure, losing in Paris sucked but the amount of time you could spend and things you could do together was exhilarating. You were practically buzzing off of the walls with ideas.

Halloween wasn't something you had given much care or notice to since your childhood, but now there was a whole new rush of activities and warmth surrounding the beautiful season, something you welcomed warmly.

how many homemade treats you could make, pumpkin carving with Ben, maybe even dress up together as a couple...

Ben was more eager about the idea of candy (and you in a sexy Halloween costume)

You could drone on and on about how good those Trader Joe Pumpkin Spice cookies were, you never expected yourself to fall for the Pumpkin Spice craze but here you were, talking Ben's ear off.

He rolled his eyes pretending to be nonchalant

even though he'd be reaching for another cookie within a few minutes.

"Just need to check they're not poisoned...are these laced with sumn'?"

A couple of days later, when you and Ben got back from the pumpkin patch, you laid out your carving kit on the island, practically jumping to get stuck in.

Was far from picture-perfect though.

Ben's kryptonite was the damn pumpkin from the get-go.

His shoulders are up to his ears as he leans over his pumpkin, cautiously poking at the hollowed-out insides with a look of pure dread.

You’ve literally provided him with every scooper and tool imaginable, trying to make this as clean as possible, but he’s still staring into the pumpkin like it’s some kind of orange horror show.

He holds his breath, then takes a tentative scoop, immediately gagging at the smell.

“Oh my god…babe, it’s like-” he shudders, hand over his nose, “like mouldy socks and old food had a baby.”

His face scrunches up as he recoils, practically jumping back. “Nah, no way.”

The sight is so absurd you burst into laughter, doubling over as he waves his hands like he’s trying to shake off the memory. "It’s not that bad! See!” you say, holding up a slimy handful of seeds with a wicked grin.

He gags, shuddering and shuts his eyes.

You’re insane if you think this is normal. This pumpkin needs, like, a hazmat suit or something.”

He flinches again, rubbing his nose like he can’t get the smell out of it, even though he hasn’t touched it with his bare hands yet.

He's deadass wearing medical gloves for this.

“Ben,” you gasp between laughs, wiping a tear from your eye. “It’s just a pumpkin. You’re acting like it’s a dead possum or something!”

“Smells like one,” he mutters darkly, gingerly pushing the spoon back toward the orange insides, his hand shaking just enough to make you lose it all over again.

Took maybe like, an hour and a half for him to de-gut the pumpkin

each attempt is met with a new level of melodrama, and by the fourth scoop, you’re clutching your sides, actually having to pause because you can barely breathe from laughing so hard.

He manages to carve out some semblance of a face, albeit a lopsided one with stupid teeth and tiny eyes that look more befuddled than scary.

“See? Told you I could do it,” he says, though his voice is shaky as if he’s barely recovered from a traumatising experience.

Such a diva, oh my god bruh.

You take one look at the pumpkin’s wonky, wide-eyed expression and nearly snort.

It's giving that "dumb ahh pumpkin" TikTok trend.

It’s actually the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

“Ben, it’s adorable.”

“S’posed to be scary…”

You glance over at him, lips twitching as you pull out your phone, quietly queuing up that TikTok audio. You hold in your laughter as you film the pumpkin with the distorted “pumpkin!” sound blaring, then pan the camera up to Ben.

The look of stunned betrayal on his face as he realises what you’ve done is absolutely priceless, his jaw dropping before he tries to reach for the phone.

The video catches his reaction in perfect two-second glory, and you both watch it back, his stunned face paired with the ridiculous audio, unable to stop laughing.

As you clean up, (Ben finally taking off his surgical blue gloves and scrubbing his hands away like a surgeon) you set the pumpkins outside and place the tealight candles inside, smiling at your actually scary pumpkin and...

that dumb pumpkin Ben made.

It's cute though, side by side, in its own way.

But you can't spend forever admiring them, it's time to make the snacks for your movie marathon tonight!

It was Ben's idea, he had a list of candy to buy and was on popcorn duty but the real star of the show was gonna be the Halloween classic; candy apples.

You both set up in the kitchen, bowls and ingredients spread out, ready to take on the challenge together.

Ben eyes the setup, grinning and rolling up his sleeves like he’s ready to make a masterpiece, even if you’re still suspicious of his pumpkin-carving skills.

The air is still sweet from the pumpkin guts, but with the sugar and cinnamon in the mix now, the atmosphere feels a bit warmer and cozier.

"Just you watch,” he says, giving you a confident wink. “I can make these apples look better than anything you’d find at a fair.”

It's adorable seeing Ben so confident and yet so easy by your side, almost competitive in his ways but not actually challenging or pushing you.

As you dip the apples one by one into the pot of Ben's hot sugar syrup, the colours come out glossy and bright red.

He might be onto something, these are looking pretty good!

As you both move onto the 4th one, you hear a small sizzle, then a loud, sharp hiss.

“Oh—ow, ow! Damn, that’s hot as fuck!”

You grab his hand immediately, your fingers gently running over the reddening spot on his palm.

“Ben! I told you to be careful! Sugar burns like crazy.”

“I knowwwww, I know,” he whines, wincing.

You lead him over to the sink and run cool water over his hand. You can’t help but smile softly as you fuss over him, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles while the cold water soothes his burn, holding his fingers in your hand as you focus on the pained spot.

“You’re such a disaster in the kitchen, you know that?”

“Hey, I was just…testing the temperature, tha's all.”

You roll your eyes and wrap his hand in a small ice pack for a bit, lingering there in the quiet, the coolness of the ice melting away any sting, until his hand feels better and you’re ready to tackle the apples again.

But no sooner than you start, he picks one up-

idiot

eyeing it as if he’s about to bite down without a second thought.

“BEN, ITS STILL SCALDING PUT IT DOW-”

You grab his wrist moving the semi-hardened apple away before he injures himself more.

"Just testin' your reflexes" he mumbles, laughing a bit.

"Sure."

Ben stepped out to light your pumpkins on the porch doorstep as the sun set, smiling and taking a quick photo, admiring the silly tradition spent together.

The house filled with the scent of caramel, you and Ben settle under a pile of blankets over you both, a bowl of popcorn wedged between your legs, and an assortment of snacks within easy reach for a spooky movie marathon.

He went out for a bit to "go grab something"

only to come back with some stupid clown mask, hiding behind the sofa to startle you.

After you screamed and he apologised with kisses and cuddles (after minutes of laughing and mocking you), you dimmed the lights and settled in, starting with a classic slasher that sets the spooky mood right from the start.

It doesn’t take long for the jump scares to start, and though you brace yourself, there’s one moment that catches you off guard, making you gasp and clutch his arm tightly. Ben laughs, his hand sliding around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Spooked already?”

“No! Not scared, just…caught off guard.”

Ben nestles his head against yours, finding himself kissing the top of your head, his arm around you as he rubs soothing circles on your arm.

He's doing all that to distract himself from the jumpscares btw.

Bc he's getting just as startled as you, if not more.

He completely zones out while watching and the jumpscares jolt through him, snapping him back to the movie plot, which then scares him even more - like, wdym there's a killer on the loose and he's literally right beside the main character?!?

But comforting you, in its odd way makes him feel comforted and safe too.

He can't help but find himself enthralled in all the silly traditions and festivities around Halloween just because it's by your side.

As the next one rolls in, he glances down at you and peppers kisses along your hairline, his lips warm and gentle.

Though you’re locked in and wrapped up in the tension of the movie, you feel safe and completely at ease in his arms.

Doesn't last long though.

As the hours creep into the deep of night it seems like the movies get spookier, creepier, and more disturbing, and his thumb rubs soft circles on your shoulder whenever a scene begins, almost instinctively comforting you as he whispers soft reassurances.

You can't even listen to what he's saying, your clammy hands gripping his arm as you squeal, failing to tear your eyes away.

"Oh my god, Be- BEN!! OH MY GOD!"

He just covers your eyes with his hand

"Ben, I can't see"

"Good, it's awful, don't watch this scene"

He feels super cool and smart for pulling that move out btw. “Just another day of protecting my girl”

By the time the credits roll on the last film, you’re tucked against him, drowsy, exhausted and a sugar crash hitting you as the remains of the candied apples and popcorn are strewn over the table.

He glances down, his fingers brushing your cheek, and tilts your chin up for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Still scared?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Maybe a little,"

“Good,” he murmurs, his smile warm. “Means I get to hold you all night."

What an opportunist.

It's the night before Halloween before you know it, the excitement of pumpkin carving, candied apples, and scary movies behind you.

Ben suggests a late-night drive!

"Let's see the decorations, it's a trip down my memory lane"

He's got that :D face going on, how could you even resist?

The air is cool and crisp as you both pile into his car, wrapped in hoodies and each other’s warmth.

Ben reaches over, like he always does, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulls out of the driveway, his thumb brushing soft, slow circles over your hand.

The neighbourhood is dressed for the season, with yards filled with skeletons, giant spiders, and strings of orange and purple lights that flicker in the dark.

Some houses go all out, with life-size ghost projections, speakers, massive jumpscare decorations and fog machines casting an eerie glow across the lawns, while others keep it simple with a row of glowing pumpkins along the steps.

It’s like Halloween magic has taken over, and the streets are a soft blend of shadows and a warm, festive glow amidst the golden leaves scattered all over.

“See that one? That’s where the Johnsons live. They’ve been doin’ that witch since I was like, I dunno, 10? Never changes. Every year, same decorations.”

Ben points out more houses, telling you which ones hand out full-size candy bars, which houses skimped out and which ones used to scare him when he and Emma were kids.

“You’d be one of those kids who scoped out the best houses before Halloween, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. Me, Emma and my buddies’d race for the full-sized bars, but if we made it to Mr. O’Malley’s house last? He’d run outta candy and give us IOU's for his store instead. That was the jackpot right there,” He laughs, squeezing your hand as he reminisces.

You nod, listening as he goes on, getting lost in the stories, the way his eyes sparkle a bit more with each memory. He talks about the high school haunted houses, how his friends would sneak around, trying to out-scare the actors, and the endless piles of candy that took him weeks to finish.

How Emma wouldn't let him tag along with her and her friends because he was embarrassing her.

His voice softens as he describes the little thrills and mischievous moments, almost as if Halloween itself has this permanent spot in his heart.

He drives slower, letting the headlights illuminate the way as you soak in the charm of it all and the softness of being alone together.

You rest your head against the window, his hand warm in yours, the night stretching on in the glow of the lights and the quiet roads.

“Hard to believe I get to spend it with the love of my life this year,” he says after a while, glancing over with a soft smile, his voice is barely above a whisper.

It's almost like he was saying it to himself, more than to you.

You kiss the back of his hand, holding it there, feeling the warmth of the moment entirely.

As you drive past another house, one with an elaborate ghost setup and an old-fashioned lamp swinging like a haunted porch light, he points, chuckling. “Man, they’d have the best haunted houses. I’d be scared stiff. Now? Not so much.”

"Uh-huh, sure, Ben. I reckon you'd still get scared."

"We can pretend like I’m the brave one.”

“Oh, so you’re brave now?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Only when you’re here,” he says, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles.

"So cheesy, Shelton"

"And you eat it up every time" he quips back, smiling.

The drive back is peaceful, almost like you’re kids again, wrapped in an innocent kind of wonder and admiration that the holiday brings.

When he finally pulls into his driveway, he parks but doesn’t make a move to get out.

Instead, he rests his head on the seat, just watching you, studying you.

The moonlight catches in his eyes, and he gives you that sweet, sleepy look that’s filled with all the warmth and happiness you could ask for, both of you bathed in the moonlight together.

The next day is Halloween, and no surprise, Ben forgot to mention something:

there's a party...

and he said you're going....

"Ben, what the FUCK are we gonna wear? I don't even have anything remotely close to a costume and-"

"Victoria's Secret model?"

He gets a punch to the arm for that quip. He had that ready and blurted it out wayyyy too quickly.

Once again, he's an opportunist!

Can't fault him! Don't hate the player, hate the game or whatever those finance bros say.

You both end up going to a costume warehouse, which, to no surprise (except Ben's), is practically ransacked and has just a small selection left.

"Wow! These racks and shelves are almost empty!"

"Yeah Ben, it's quite literally Halloween day..."

"Oh, yeah..."

"yep."

By the time you make your way to the ladies' section, Ben’s excitement is borderline overwhelming.

He's tossing costumes in your direction, with each pick, his grin only grows, that voice of his thickening with each comment.

Bet you can't guess what kind of costumes he's looking at!

“Alright, babe, here’s what I’m thinkin’.”

He hands you a bag with a red devil outfit...

...which is basically a glorified bodysuit.

“This, or-wait, wait, wait…”

He reaches back and pulls out a barely-there nurse outfit.

“Maybe this? C’mon, tell me you wouldn’t look hot as hell in it.”

"Oh my god, Catwoman?! Baby...Catwoman! You'd look so fuckin' good as...wait what's this one? Oh! Or, how about a cop? It comes with handcuffs!!!"

He's practically blushing with several skimpy costumes in his arms, a gummy smile wide, and eyes massive like a teenager looking at a Playboy magazine for the first time.

“I was actually thinking… Fiona, from Shrek. The green body paint, prosthetic nose and all.”

His face falls in sheer horror.

He just stands there, slackjawed, like you’ve crushed his biggest dreams.

“Fiona…as in an ogre? He says the word like it’s filthy like he’s never even wanted to say it out loud.

“Yep! I could even add some fake dirt on my body, really make it realistic…”

Ben’s just staring at you, his face still frozen in disbelief. “Naw…nah, you didn’t just say that.”

He waves a hand up and down in front of you like he’s trying to wipe the thought from his mind.

“Babe, we’re supposed to look good, not…swampy.”

With a grin, you roll your eyes and you eventually head toward the dressing room, pulling on the first costume in his pile that he gave you to throw on.

Of course, it's a flirty Snow White costume; a corset with puff sleeves and tiny skirt, knee-high socks and a headband. When you step out, Ben’s mouth drops again, but this time with a grin that spreads across his face.

“See now that is what I’m talkin’ about,” he drawls, sliding a hand around your waist, fingers tracing the fabric. “Got me forgettin’ my own name…”

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. “Ben, it’s just Snow White!”

“Just Snow White?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m thinkin’ you’re the finest Snow White.” His fingers drift just a bit too low, making you laugh as you smack his hand away again.

Back in the dressing room, you slip into the next one, a green Tinkerbell dress that’s even shorter and lined with sparkles.

You don’t even have to walk out fully before Ben’s already there, grinning like he’s been waiting for hours.

“Look at you, my lil’ pixie…” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, lips brushing your ear. “Darlin’, I don’t think I’m gonna let you wear this one outta my sight.”

“Are you even paying attention to the costumes or are you just looking for excuses?” you tease.

You're trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes practically undress you on the spot.

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, backing off as you return to the dressing room one more time to pull on the cop outfit.

His eyes roam over every inch, pausing at the handcuffs dangling from your fingers and the baton tucked into your belt, wrapped around your hips.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters, his gaze darkening. He steps up, his hands back on your waist, fingers digging in a little tighter.

“You’re arrestin’ me, right? Pleaseeee say you’re here to arrest me.”

“You need to behave if we're gonna get out of this store with a costume for us,” you say, laughing as he tugs you closer, his eyes glued to the baton you’re tapping on his shoulder.

“Not a chance, babe.” He grins, leaning in. “Now, why don’t I go grab that badge of yours so I can behave just a lil worse…”

You shove him off with a scoff and an eye roll but that smile on your face deceived your annoyed expression.

You had a little plan schemed, all look you’d picked, your surprise masterpiece:

a head-to-toe roach costume with long, wiry legs, little antennae, and bug eyes on top.

You wriggle into the thick styrofoam costume, taking a deep breath before stepping out in all your creepy-crawly glory.

“Benny?” you call in a sing song voice, trying to keep a straight face. “Got the perfect costume.”

He turns, expecting another flirty outfit, and instead just stands there, blinking.

He’s completely silent.

A whole ten seconds pass before he finally clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Nah, babe,” he says, voice almost pitying. “Nah, this…this just ain’t right. Not right at all.”

You hold up your arms and wiggle the little roach legs at him, the same way you wiggled in the Snow White costume.

“What, it’s not cute?”

“I- baby, look- you know I love you…” he starts, trying and failing to keep from laughing as he waves at you. “But I just can’t- I can’t even look at you right now. That’s straight-up trauma in a costume.” He finally lets out a snort, covering his face with his hands.

Finally, after giving him a good laugh, you change into the last one, the one you’ve both been waiting for.

It’s an angel costume with a touch of elegance: a top made of shimmering gold metal feathers that shine under the store lights, a golden headpiece that makes you look almost ethereal, and long, graceful wings. The skirt flares out in layers of white and gold, making you look like you’ve stepped straight out of a dream.

When you step out, Ben’s quiet, the devilish grin on his face replaced by something a little softer, his breath hitching a bit, his gaze a little more serious as he takes you in.

“Now this,” he says, moving closer, reaching for your hand. “This is somethin’ else, darlin’. You look exactly what you are, an angel.”

“Good enough for Halloween?” you ask, giving a little twirl as the golden wings glint in the light.

“Oh, way better.” He nods, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Cause I’ll be right there as your devil.”

He hands you the bag for his costume, a black shirt, unbuttoned pretty low, black pants, and, of course, dark wings and horns.

“We’re gonna make one hell of a pair.” His gaze drifts over you again, taking in every detail.

“Angel like you with a devil like me might just be our best look yet.”

From the look in his eyes, you know this Halloween party is going to be a night to remember.

He paid for the costumes of course, btw.

Only after making a million innuendos about you being an angel.

"Y'know I thought angels were pure, you can get pretty nasty when you-"

"Shut it."

"Yes, m'darlin' ".

As you approach the house party, the bass thumps in your chest, seeing all sorts of costumes around you, some faces familiar to Ben, childhood friends and college peers alike.

After a few shots, a couple of drinking games and slurred conversations, you and Ben melt into each other in the cramped living room, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, fingers dipping dangerously low.

His other hand slips along the curve of your hip, thumb grazing your bare skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

The dim lights reflect off your golden feathers, casting a halo around you, but Ben’s dark eyes are glued to yours, unrepentant, that devilish grin driving you insane.

How in character!

His lips brush your ear, his breath warm and his words slurred and heavy with a bit too much vodka.

“You’re… somethin' else tonight, y’know that?” he murmurs, words melting into the bass line, his drawl thicker, slow and dragging as he pulls you even closer.

“Got every guy in here starin' at my angel…”

You laugh, tipsy, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure they’re all lookin’ at you, devil boy.”

He just smiles, his hands sliding lower, pressing you tight against him as he lets out a low laugh. “Naw, they’re jealous,” he mumbles, lips grazing your neck as he speaks. “Cause I’m the only one you’re gettin’ all worked up over…”

You feel the heat rising between you two, the music, the drinks, the dim lights casting everything in a hazy blur.

He pulls you in, tilting your face up, his lips finding yours, messy and rough as if he’s been waiting all night to feel your mouth on his.

His hand cradles your face, fingers slipping into your hair, holding your jaw, tugging you close as he kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

He tastes like dark liquor and something a little sweeter, and when you pull away, you can’t tell if it’s his lips that are wet or yours.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes locked on you, that stupid, sinful grin spreading wider.

“Wanna get outta here?” he whispers, voice barely louder than the music.

You don’t even hesitate, nodding as he takes your hand and tugs you through the crowd, your pulse racing.

His grip is tight, his eyes glinting with that familiar, heated look, and you can’t help but laugh as he leads you out of the house and into the warm Floridian night.

You barely make it to outside, stumbling onto the lawn, before his hands are on you again, pressing you against the trunk of a tree, his mouth crashing into yours. You moan into him, hands running over his chest, feeling the heat radiating off him even through his shirt.

“Oh, Ben…” you breathe, leaning back as he drags his mouth along your neck, nipping and teasing, his laughter low and husky against your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he slurs, mouth brushing up the line of your jaw as his hand slides around your waist.

You’re ready for him to take you right then and there, leaves crunching underfoot, your fingers slipping under his shirt, tugging it open just a little further when-

“Wait, wait, wait,” he mutters, pulling back suddenly.

His eyes are wide and hazy, his head perks up as he looks over his shoulder for a moment and blinks, his mouth twisting into a grin as he takes your hand again.

“Hold up. Got an even better idea.”

You blink, trying to catch your breath, utterly dazed. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

He’s already leading you down the sidewalk, back towards the rows of decorated houses, each porch lit up with Halloween lights and pumpkins.

You stop dead in your tracks, your lips still swollen from his kisses, realising he’s actually serious.

“Ben, you’re not-no way, no shot.” You laugh, almost disbelieving as he walks up the first driveway, holding your hand and looking back with that same goofy smile.

No way.

“Trick or treatin'!” he says, completely earnest, already reaching for the doorbell.

He's looking at you all innocent, like he wasn't being handsy with you just 2 minutes ago.

You stare at him, utterly floored. “Ben, you’re seriously…you’re just gonna go trick-or-treating? Right now? Like this?”

“Hell yeah!” he says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world, shrugging.

“I’m in costume, you’re in costume…what’s stoppin’ us?”

Before you can even answer, the door swings open, revealing an elderly woman with a massive bowl of candy. She takes one look at Ben in his black wings, the gold feathers shining around you, and lets out a cackle of laughter.

“Now, I didn’t expect trick-or-treaters this age tonight!” she says, eyes bright with amusement as she holds the candy out. “You two are just adorable. D'ya need a bag, hun?”

Ben grins, holding his hand out. “Thank you, ma’am. I mean…Halloween’s all about free candy, right?”

His boyish cheeky charm works like a treat, even on the old ones. smh.

With a warm chuckle, she drops a couple of candy bars into his hands before handing him a bag before she waves goodbye.

Ben shoves the candy in, already heading down to the next house, practically skipping with that same childish grin.

“C’mon, m'angel, let’s go score some more!”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you trail along beside him.

The night takes on a new light, the alcohol still buzzing through you both as you hit every house on the block, each one adding more candy to Ben’s rapidly filling bag.

He grabs an empty trick-or-treat bag left on a stoop, offering it to you with a dramatic flourish, and before long, you’re both stumbling from house to house, holding hands and giggling like you’re kids again.

Ben feeds you chocolate in between houses, his eyes soft and a little drowsy, that irresistible grin plastered on his face.

The two of you wander holding hands, his devil horns slightly askew, his shirt still messily half-buttoned as you both talk in low, slurred voices.

Somewhere along the way, you both end up sitting on the curb since your feet hurt.

You both go digging through the bags like kids, surrounded by a mix of Reese’s, Milky Ways, and Twix bars.

“Still thinkin’ you’re too old for trick-or-treatin’?” he teases, popping a Snickers in his mouth.

“Fine,” you admit, laughing, leaning into his side. “Guess I can kinda see the appeal.”

He just grins, sliding his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as the streetlights flicker above you, pressing soft kisses to your hair.

In the quiet night, surrounded by candy wrappers and the warm glow of Halloween night, you’re perfectly happy, just you, your devil, and a bag full of treats.

There was nothing sweeter than spending Halloween with Ben <33

[missys-mansion-of-mistakes]

July 26th, 2024. Friday.

🌊 Today was good! I got a lot of things done I'd been meaning to do for weeks. I completed:

Looking at a list of programs that apply to my research and the information I'm presenting at the conference in 2 (!!!) weeks. Added it all to the spreadsheet I'm compiling.

Sending in an application to be on an organization's Board of Directors. I got an auto-reject because they got a lot of applications, but that's alright, I put it on my calendar to try again in 6 months.

I drafted the CF scholarship and, on a whim, just submitted it. It was kind've a bad essay but... I just wanted it done. Bad call, and I won't win the scholarship because of it, but that's OK. More writing practice earned and that helps.

Drafted the PC scholarship. This one was WAY hard. Required a brainstorm session with my boyfriend to even figure out what to write about. But I got an outline together, a first draft, and a 2nd draft too. Need to sleep on it though.

In exchange for all the above: skipped all my morning routines except relaxing for an hour. In that hour I wrote a letter to my boyfriend that I'm going to tuck in a book I send him on Monday. There's 2 books he bought when he was here with me that he wanted me to send him, and I'm buying him a copy of a book I think he'll really love too ("Seed to Dust"-- it's an amazing book!) I'm also sending him a sticker of a snail and a frog in a long-distance relationship... it's us!!

So yeah. Very productive with the one-off tasks.

💤 Very tired today. Need to transition fully back onto the looseleaf yerba instead of messing with the canned yerba-- the former of those is more medicinal, the other has like ~150mg caffeine per can. Not good. 💄 So, I was looking at getting myself more makeup/"beauty" supplies because of my new job. Now, I'm a girl who-- until recently-- would consider herself pretty butch. But as I've been trying to get into professionalism more, dressing better at work, etc, I've realized that I get a lot more positive attention when I dress way more femininely. This also plays into the oft-quoted statistic about how women who wear makeup are chosen way more often for promotions/job opportunities/whatever than women who don't. So I figured, since it seems I've finished taking the leap into wearing dresses, now was the time to take the leap into actual makeup.

Now, I have makeup already too. I have these things: foundation, sunscreen, moisturizer, highlighter. That's IT!

So when I mentioned offhandedly several weeks ago that a job in a fancy, rich town wanted to interview me, and I might need to learn makeup, a friend was shocked that I didn't even have a lipstick to speak of.

I ordered this mystery beauty box to fix that. No this isn't an advertisement, I just wanted to share because honestly this fixed my problem elegantly AND made me happy-- win-win!

Everything in the first picture is what I got in the box. 3 lipsticks, 2 eyeshadows, 2 lipliners, 1 eyeliner, 1 undereye highlighter, a bunch of brushes, a ton of spa stuff I'll have to convince myself to use, and more! Now I'll just have to experiment with them lol.

Anyway, yeah, it was pretty and I'm happy.

📦 My parents need help going through boxes in the garage tomorrow. I'll have to drive up home tomorrow morning to help. So, another couple days working on the laptop at their house. Let's see how productive I can be up there...

What has made you happy recently?

Sending happiness your way!!

[Photos: mystery box unpacked, my tie-dye envelope in front of my PC, tie-dye envelope and long-distance snail and frog sticker, mystery box still packaged up.]

[farfromstrange]

I’m sorry, but I’m missing Charlie so badly that this conversation just sprung into my mind between me and two very neglected boys. And me being who I am, I just continued spinning it further because Missing Charlie Hours™️ are a serious condition. Yeah, have that. I’m not even going to elaborate further or I’ll embarrass myself, but it’s bad y’all… it’s really bad. The drought is real. I AM PARCHED and thirsty at the same time. So, go ahead and read. Or not. I’m not your boss.

Matt: Sweetheart, this is the hundredth time you’ve sighed at your phone. What’s wrong?

Me: …nothing.

Matt: Is something bothering you? Or someone?

Me: It’s complicated.

Matt: How complicated?

Michael: (popping his head in, trying to figure out what’s going on)

Michael: What’s goin’ on in here?

Matt: She’s been staring at that damn phone for over an hour.

Michael: Sighing?

Matt: Yep.

Michael: Grand. She’s doin’ it again.

Matt: Doing what?

Me: *sighs*

Michael: She’s lookin’ at pictures…

Matt: Pictures?

Michael: *nods* Pictures.

Me: Guys, would you stop?

Michael: What’re you lookin’ at?

Me: Oh, you know…

Matt: I find it very unsettling that I can tell by your heartbeat how flustered you are, but I don’t know why.

Michael: Is it that time of the month again?

Me: How do you always know?

Michael: You keep buggin’ me about it every weekend. You even asked me to drive ya to fuckin’ Canada for a fuckin’ fan convention. I don’t have a license!

Me: And I don’t have a car. I was desperate, Mikey! And Matt can’t drive. Look at him! He’s blind.

Matt: Would you two mind telling me what’s going on? If you’re on your period, why would you need to go to Canada? And why don’t I smell you?

Michael: Wrong kinda time o’ the month, mate.

Matt: What is it then?

Me: It’s this guy…

Matt: Another one?!

Michael: No, THE one.

Matt: I thought I was the one… You keep telling me I am. Are you saying you lied to me?

Me: No. No, of course not! I love you, baby. You are the one for me, always, forever, but there is this other guy…

Michael: A real one this time.

Matt: Oh. OH. Wait, what? Is it Harry? Did I miss a ticket sale? Could’ve sworn I heard you crying over his hiatus last week, and Foggy joined in.

Me: He’s still on break, unfortunately.

Michael: If it were him, she’d be screamin’ right now.

Me: It’s not Harry. It’s convention season…

Michael: And there’s this lad that looks like us. She talks about him all the fuckin’ time. Surprised ya didn’t know.

Me: Can you blame me?

Michael: Y’know what I’m about ta say…

Me: That no one can replace you?

Michael: Yeah.

Matt: WHO ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?!

Me: Okay. I didn’t want it to come to this, but here we go. His name’s Charlie Cox. He’s, like, so amazing. I love him. He reminds me of a cinnamon roll. He’s always so nice and pretty and squishy and I want nothing more than to hug him all the damn time. But also, if you could see, Matty, his arms…

Matt: (gets up and grabs his Daredevil suit)

Me: Wait! He’s a good guy. Where are you going? There’s no need for aggression. Matthew Michael Murdock, stop!

Michael: (loading his gun, seemingly unbothered) I like his spirit.

Me: Not you too! Michael Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Kinsella, don’t encourage his behavior!

Michael: You have too much t’do to get distracted by some guy giving autographs in Canada, pet. It’s not healthy for yer little brain.

Me: Little?! I’m not delusional. If I were, I’d actually be planning the wedding instead of just making a Pinterest board for inspiration. Can’t say that’s unhealthy because no finances are being hurt.

Michael: That… that doesn’t help yer case.

Matt: You could give us attention for once.

Me: I am paying you attention! I’m paying everything and everyone the attention they deserve.

Michael: *looking at Matt* I’m not sure if that’s the compliment we were hopin’ for…

Matt: Agreed. *turns back to me* What about the million drafts on your laptop that you won’t touch because you’re too busy staring at your phone, looking at pictures of whoever that Charlie Cox guy is?

Me: …ITS COMPLICATED!

Matt: Not to me.

Me: It’s love! Unconditional love that transcends all age boundaries.

Michael: He doesn’t even know ya exist. Now get yer laptop, get to work and let us take care of it, alright? You know we’re the only ones who can treat ya right…

Matt: In all the ways…

Michael: Exactly.

Me: I hate you guys.

Matt: No you don’t, sweetheart. You know you love us.

Me: …to the moon and back.

Michael: Yeah, that’s what we thought. Now be a good girl and get to writing. I wanna see some results when we get back from our little trip.

Me: Yes, sir.

Proceeds to scroll through the Charlie Cox tag on every social media platform.

[inkforhumanhands]

What do you use to make your comic edits? I really like them!! And is there like a process you follow? Like do you storyboard the rough idea first? Sorry if you've answered this somewhere before

Ohhhh man this is going to have to go under a cut due to pictures. Luckily whenever I make an edit I tend to DM my friend process pics while screaming about how horrible they look and how I can't figure out how to fix them. 💀 So some of the record exists!

I use a mix of three different programs. To be honest even though it's free, Photopea.com is my go-to for most functions, especially since they have a large pool of fonts to choose from which means I don't have to go into the font mines and download 500 different ones just to see what's going to look best. I also use Paint Shop Pro, which is the program I learned how to make edits (icons, back in the day) on when I was like 14. I have a newer version now since I finally had to retire the 15-year-old one on my broken laptop, and I still don't really know my way around it that well. It's not the most user-friendly software, but it is a lot better than Photopea at resizing images to make them larger. I also use Clip Studio Paint whenever I need to draw anything for an edit.

When I need resources, I often use dafont.com for fonts. I have a bunch of texture packs from various places on the internet, but my go-to nowadays for new stuff is pexels.com where you can get stuff with a royalty-free license. I also occasionally use my own photos for textures (took a bunch of wall photos in Italy- my dad thought I'd lost my mind). I don't use brushes all that often but there are other free resource spots.

As for process, I usually start with comic panels that I like visually and cut out the characters, then figure out what I want to do with them. For Kill Krew, I knew I wanted to use a bunch of the tiny Foggies, but I didn't know that I wanted to make it a story per se until I finished the first section of the edit where Foggy's holding a bunch of papers and I decided to make it kind of like he was authoring his own memoir. Then I just followed the events in the comic. For my volume 5 edits I did have more of an idea for the story I wanted to tell from the start and looked for comic panels that would fit it. (By the way: never forgiving the volume 5 editors for allowing so many different artists. It pained me to have to use a couple different artists in one edit.)

Anyway though kind of like when I'm writing fic, I just start with pretty much a blank canvas, plop the characters on, and hope they arrange themselves into something that looks cool. This is a very early draft of one of them next to a slightly more advanced draft:

A lot of the work honestly goes into choosing the background and marrying it to other elements such as the text and the cutouts. I use a lot of rectangles for this, as you can see in this Kill Krew one next to a near-final draft below. This is also the phase where elements get resized, whether for story-telling reasons or design reasons.

I also fool around a lot with layers and coloring. An unexpected layering choice can totally make or break an edit. See the original comic coloring (left) versus my coloring change (right):

Or this original panel (left) versus a combination of a picture of a starry sky and a coloring layer (right):

Font is also hugely important to me. I try to find ones that fit thematically AND also look great on the image. Like bad coloring or a bad background, an ugly font can also kill an edit. Choose wisely lmao.

Another thing to watch out for in an edit that's multiple images is to make sure they all look nice together and like they're part of one set. I find this probably the hardest, since different source images (comic panels in this case) often have different coloring requirements, but you want the colors to mesh well between different images. It's tough! And if you make extremely long edits like I do occasionally it's hard to even see what they look like together. Sometimes when I'm looking at them stacked in Photopea it looks like a tiny, tiny photostrip and I have to figure out what's working and what isn't. It's tough out there!

Anyway I think that's all I got! Hope that gave you some insight lol I'm glad I had these process pics because I usually just kind of go into a fugue state while making them and come out covered in blood!

[modkatisbacc]

ModKat Re-reacts to Ninjago: Episode 9

Now you may be wondering "Where are the other episodes?" Well my friends, they were on my old account by the same name. "Why did you delete your old account?" Because *Gestures at all the other weird things I do* its kinda what I do best. i started doing episode 9 before I deleted the Blog but a lot of things have HAPPENED in the show since then.

WARNING: There WILL be spoilers for up to Ninjago: Dragons Rising S2 P1.

Also, sorry for the picture quality, it was actually better on my phone but now im using my laptop.

What were they going to do if he Didn't Survive all this because he had plot armor? Did THEY know he had plot armor? I mean they know he's the Grandson of the FSM, so maybe they did. But then again I take my Ninjago Canon into account and I SHOULDNT-

Lloyd has been through so much,,, look at u go u funky little guy.

Still crying that Clutch was name dropped like... like he was never even supposed to be in the series. I still haven't watched his movie... one day..

I wonder how much Lou knows about Elemental Masters. In like... all of my AUs, Lilly always dragged him along and he experienced things first hand. But,,, what does he know in CANON?

And, as of the Merge, people just Live Here.

Garmadon,,, Voice,, Handsome.

Use. The Bell. Son. I dont know why but that is the funniest delivery ever, and its also funny when a parent and child duo are voiced by the same person, thank you, Kirby.

And WHO decided that one of the fangs of the devourer would be used as a TROPHY? What if someone with ill intent found this out Long Before!

Also as someone who has suffered many twisted ankles, what... what are you doing sit down. Your pain tolerance must be crazy, sure, but it aint gonna heal with you jumping around like that- (Edit: 7/26/24: I... I twisted my ankle yesterday, but got lucky it doesnt hurt that baad LMAO Also what do u mean half the episode has been in my drafts for several weeks no it hasn't)

Dang Scales thinks they're good. I mean three out of the four never learned how to dance or anything and they're much better than me SO.

(Insert Dragons Rising Questions Here) But also... Where is it? The Administration is *here* right? What happened to this portal when the merge happened? Is that why they're able to send people back to other realms? They found a way to like use that source to teleport to other realms? How Does It Work. Also I know its guarded, but if its daytime the Craglings wouldnt be an issue, so... Its not guarded during the day. Why not.

He literally only does this to be an annoying brother. Just a little push shove, dramatic entrance. Wu here looks so shocked by the vortex, My man you've seen crazier.

They got these suits and promptly only used them for an hour tops. Maybe less.

My headcanon is that this man right Here Knows A lot more than he ever let on here. Like There Is A REASON he was so adamant. Can we at least get a confirmation that the parents are okay. We don't even need to see them just a lil thumbs up.

*Points* You had a bad word on your paper mister, I remember the Post. The funniest thing I've never noticed.

And those specific butterflies can stay away since they seem to be nearby when someone is either about to die or be in big trouble.

(At Zane's funeral, landed on the bike in s7, if I remember correctly, The butterfly in Tick Tock)

LETS DO THE WHIP

Its time For you to do this again in DR Cole.

Man really was straight up willing to kill Lou for a distraction. Also he ran under there before he potential kicked in, so he can deal with a lot of stuff Falling on him. Interesting to know.

True Potential Shots pretty... Very Pretty...

Can I just say that... These four mean so Much,,,, to me... Look how happy they are.

Ninjago Episode 9 Rewatch Done! I should be uploading these at least three times a week? Maybe more if I... Feel Up To It. I love doing these, and I am sorry that the others are lost. but we Are Back! These wont be going anywhere!

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #123

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

The bell rang, and everyone packed up to go to lunch. I was a bit sluggish, as I was up late the night before and didn’t get much rest.

“Cass,” Mrs. Fagen said, “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

I approached her desk and sat down. “What about?”

“Your extra credit essay. It’s just… not up to par with your usual standard of work. Here, see there’s a double-space instead of a period at the end of this sentence, the formatting is all wrong, and despite it being a two-page paper, half the first page is taken up by this blurry picture of Shadow the Hedgehog.”

I squinted at it. “May I take a look at that?”

“Go ahead.” She handed it over. “But I can’t give you any points for this. Don’t try to change my mind.”

“That’s fine,” I said, smiling. “I’m going to get lunch.”

As I walked toward the cafeteria, I started reading over the essay. It was mind-bogglingly bad. I counted four uses of the phrase ‘I think’, two of which were in the first paragraph; the punctuation was inconsistent to the point of question marks showing up on sentences with citations on them; and there wasn’t a single semicolon even though there were at least a couple times the writer could have used one. Most importantly, it was entirely incoherent.

I wasn’t about to accuse Mrs. Fagen of being confused (a touchy subject given her advanced age) without being sure I hadn’t forgotten writing this. My memory was easily worse than hers. But there was no chance in a million lifetimes that I would have penned such drivel. Yet… it had my name on it.

Even more confusing was that the header had a phone number next to my name for some reason. And despite it not belonging to me, the last four digits matched. I took a seat at the nearest table and pulled out my laptop to try to get to the bottom of this. The phone number was all I had to go on.

The first result featured a portrait of a ten or eleven-year-old child, who for all I knew was a student at a nearby school. His alleged name was Garben Diglas, which sounded made up. A dead-end, I thought, but just to be sure, I reverse image searched the photo. It originally came from an essay-writing service called Penn Redd Writers. Bingo. They claimed to use some kind of proprietary artificial intelligence to undercut the prices of their competition.

From my perspective, their AI still needed some work.

I put my laptop away and walked back to Mrs. Fagen’s classroom. Whoever it was who had intended to get extra credit, they were going to learn a lesson about plagiarism they wouldn’t soon forget. And I’d make sure to leave a scathing review for the company online, while I was at it. But wait… why was the image of a young child stored on a server for a writing website that claimed to use AI?

A man with long, tightly-curled hair in a ponytail stood outside the door to the classroom. He looked at me and pointed at a bag of food in his other hand. “Is this yours?”

“No, it’s probably for Mrs. Fagen. I can take it to her.”

“Thanks,” he grinned. “I’m not supposed to go inside.”

“Okay…” I said, taking the bag from him. It was cold.

“Can you ask for a tip for me?”

“I don’t think I -”

A large hand pressed a cloth napkin against my face. I struggled, dropping the bag and the essay as I passed out. The last thing I remember was someone saying, “She knows too much.”

[innytoes]

Oooh sleepy prompts. 17, you still sleep with a stuffed animal? sweet tarts

When she came back to her bedroom, Reggie was on her bed, his feet hanging off the end, making what looked like snow angels on her fuzzy top blanket. He looked blissed out and happy.

"Ahem," she said, and he shot upright. At least he wasn't snooping. When Nick was her boyfriend, he'd lost 'can be left alone in the bedroom' privileges after he unearthed a picture of her mom and asked her about it. "Come here to get your snacks, because if you get crumbs on my bed they'll never find the body."

He followed her to the little seating area she had set up, flopping down on the beanbag, because of course he did. They ate their snacks in peace, before getting back to work. Carrie was determined to get and A+ on this history project no matter what, and she wasn't going to let Reginald Not-Peters-Anymore-But-Molina ruin it for her. Luckily he seemed very on board with following orders, going so far as to raise his hand when he had a suggestion.

Except his eyes kept drifting back to her bed. And finally, she rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You need a nap or something?"

"No!" Reggie pouted. "It's just that... your blanket is so soft... and comfy..."

"We still need to finish this project," she said sternly.

"You have a laptop," he said, blasting her with the full force of his puppy eyes.

"Fine, but if you start slacking, I'm taking this laptop downstairs and making you sit on the really uncomfortable designer chairs," she threatened. She wasn't sure why Dad even had those chairs, except that they looked expensive. Nobody ever sat on them.

Reggie cheered, yanking off his shoes before taking a flying leap onto the bed, burying his face in her fuzzy pink blanket for a second.

"Scoot over," she commanded, and he did, scooting up to the headboard and holding an arm out for her to snuggle under.

They did finish their first draft, even with Reggie running his hands over her blanket the whole time, the other one toying with her hair. Not that she was into that or anything. And the snuggling closer was just so he could see the screen better.

"I'm going to get more snacks because we deserve them," she said. She wanted something chocolate-y. "And if you promise not to wipe your hands on the bed, you can stay here."

"I would never defile the sanctity of the fuzzy blanket, Carebear," Reggie said, holding his hand over his heart and the other up in the air. She rolled her eyes at him, but pressed a kiss to his cheek before hurrying out of the room.

Only when she got back, she nearly dropped the giant bag of Maltesers. Because Reggie was still on the bed, but now, he was holding Mister Bun in his lap, gently stroking his ears. Mister Bun who she had hidden safely under her pillows to keep this exact thing from happening.

"You still sleep with a stuffed animal?" Reggie asked, and he sounded so excited about it. Like he thought it was funny. Was he going to make fun of her? Or tell everyone at school? Scary Carrie, still sleeping with her childhood plush bunny, haha, everyone laugh. "He's cute."

At the thunderous look on her face, Reggie blanched. "Or she," he corrected. "Or they. I respect your bunny's pronouns either way." He carefully set Mister Bun next to him on the bed, propped against the pillow.

When Carrie still didn't say anything, Reggie kept rambling. "I'm sorry I touched him, I wasn't snooping, I know you hate snooping. I was just rearranging the pillows for better snuggling and he - or she! - was under one of them and I'm not making fun of you I swear I think it's sweet I have one too."

He stopped, but only because he ran out of breath. Before he could continue, Carrie interrupted. "You have a stuffed bunny too?"

"Well, no," Reggie said. "I have a doggy. My Meemaw gave him to me before we moved. His name is Woof."

"I've never seen him in your room," Carrie said, before mentally cursing herself. Maybe he hadn't been able to take Woof with him when he moved in with the Molinas.

"I ah..." Reggie smiled shyly. "I hid him under my pillow because I was afraid you'd think I was uncool."

Finally, Carrie was able to move again. She moved to the bed, gently catching Reggie's face between her hands and kissing him. Of course he wouldn't judge her, or make fun of her, or spread rumours. Reggie was the sweetest guy she'd ever met.

"His name is Mister Bun," she said. "And I don't think you're uncool. I think you're amazing."

His beautiful smile said everything she needed to hear, and they spent the rest of the afternoon eating chocolate and snuggling while watching a show on her laptop. Mister Bun included.

[blakbonnet]

I was tagged by Jams @not-nervous-jester to share my writing process so here you go, I'm sorry but this will get a bit long and it'll not be proofread cause life's too short (and my laptop has 4% battery left) 🙃

Do you write in order?

Yes and No. I start off any writing project (whether it be fanfic or work) with a detailed outline of the major plot points. I do the endings first more often than not when I'm planning a fic, then the middle, and finally, once those are out of the way, then I'll tackle the beginning kinda.

Because I write like a person possessed, the beginnings sort of just happen on their own but I need a guideline for hitting the major points or it will be all out of whack.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try?

About 100%. Because I am so incredibly stupid and anal about this stuff, my first try is essentially a weighty tome of garbage. You can only throw out the garbage once I'm done, you can't add more to it. I guess this analogy doesn't work but it works in terms of the ✨ vibe ✨ I'm trying to create, stay with me people!

How many drafts do you go through?

Just one actually. If there is stuff in the first draft that I am not okay with, I will stop writing and simply leave it for a week or a month until I feel like picking it up again later 😐 The only time I actually create a new draft is when parts of the original are unreadable. Actually I'm lying, I just add stuff to the first draft while whistling and being inconspicuous.

Tell me about your process.

First comes the playlist. It HAS to start with a playlist. Every project has a separate playlist. Songs can be repeated, playlists cannot be the same though. It's a thing, and if I don't do it, it'll be a whole separate thing tbh.

The playlist has to be instrumental, it has to be mainly cellos and violins for the meatier scenes, piano is okay for the fluffy non-plot filler bits that I'm writing for my own entertainment. There can be no words or bits of the fic will turn into a Metallica song, I'll be sued, I'll lose everything and most importantly, the fic would never be finished.

Next comes the poetry, stuff that is actually inspiring the work and pushing it forward. That usually goes in tumblr drafts so it's easier for me to access from my phone. This is usually screenshots from e-books or actual pictures from physical books.

Because I do a fairly detailed outline beforehand, I usually start writing the beginning because that's what I haven't planned out yet and am most excited by. This takes me the longest amount of time and I also do a LOT of rewriting at this stage because personally, as a reader, I do abandon a lot of fics if the beginning isn't doing it for me.

I use google sheets cause I'll sometimes reread my stuff over the phone but I only ever write on the laptop, my phone is mainly for rereading and obsessing.

I also edit as I go along based on feel and make notes where I need to add stuff. If I edit later once I'm done, it usually doesn't come out like I want it to.

Once chapters are done, I copy paste them into Google Translate so I can hear them being read back to me. I catch a record number of missed typos and errors this way. I'm very conscious of the way I write dialogues because I'm so nitpicky when I'm reading other people's dialogues and this also allows me to correct issues with those (the "he would never fucking say it like that" errors)

After the first couple chapters, I'll share the google doc with mutuals and friends (mostly Ara @stedebonnets ) and I don't have a beta reader. Plot points I'll discuss with Josh and Joy 😭 and I don't publish fics on ao3 until the entire thing is written cause I'm a big stinking fic abandoner lmao (smauglock fic from 5 years ago rip 🪦 sorry readers)

This is the writing process that went into Need for Stede ✌️which was incredibly fun to write!

I'd like to tag @wearfinethingsalltoowell @abigailpents @talkstoself @red-sky-in-mourning @ratchet @stedebonnit and anyone else who wants to do this!

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 37

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 35-36 here

***

135. "I'll be honest; I get off to the thought of you."

***

The spaceship's sleep/wake cycle had been reset at some point while Tim was traveling, probably an automatic function of being planetside, and was completely opposite to Gotham. Tim discovered this fact as soon as sunset began to color the sky the distinct mixture of furious greens, reds, and oranges unique to his hometown. His body informed him that it was ready for a decent day's work—he'd actually caught up on sleep while the autopilot was in charge, and now he regretted it.

Jason arrived first, and Tim refused to examine the wave of relief that swamped him at the realization that he wouldn't have to be alone with Damian.

"Hey, Jason," he greeted as he swung open the door.

"What's up, Timber." Jason unlaced his boots and took them off before stepping past the foyer, unshakeable habit left over from his time in the League. "How was space?"

"You know. The usual. Food I couldn't eat, languages I couldn't speak, idiots who needed rescuing."

"That's not a very nice way to talk about Rayner," Jason said in mock reproval, heading for the couch.

Tim snorted. "He was actually really helpful this time. It's not his fault—" A knock interrupted, and he swallowed the rest of the words as something lurched in his gut.

"Whoa. You still spacesick or something?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. "We can reschedule. I'd rather come back later than watch you puke in a trashcan."

Tim forced a smile and headed to the door. "Nah, everything feels like it weighs fifty pounds more than normal and I'm going to be awake for the next 24 hours trying to get back on Gotham time but I'm fine."

He opened the door and nearly choked on his tongue at the sight of Damian in the flesh. Time away had mitigated his recollection so he had sort of mentally combined annoying preteen Damian with his more recent memories. That had . . . probably been an error in judgment, he was realizing, as Damian walked past him, cologne wafting over Tim like a caress, and sat in the most uncomfortable chair like he was making a point.

"Let's make this fast, Todd. I don't wish to spend any more time here than is necessary." Damian's voice was deeper than Tim had remembered. He rested one foot on the opposite knee and leaned back as if he were totally relaxed, but the set of his shoulders told a different tale.

Tim barely remembered to shut the door as Jason chastised Damian for keeping his shoes on—"who raised you, I know Ra’s wouldn't have let you fuck up his floors like this"—and drifted to sit on the couch next to Jason.

Damian raised an eyebrow at Jason's tirade but made no response, and Jason apparently gave it up as a bad job because he opened his laptop without further comment. "So here's what these assholes are up to," he began, rotating the computer so they could see the pictures on the screen.

By the time he was done showing the evidence he'd gathered, Tim had forgotten about anything but the sheer rage throbbing in his temples. "Some of the kids are practically babies. Do their parents know what happened to them? Are they part of it or would it be safe to return the kids home?"

"That's what I need your help to figure out," Jason replied. "I can't find their transfer points, take out their operation heads, root out the lieutenants, and check into the home lives of these kids without you. Hell, I'm not even sure where they're coming from exactly. I didn't take the pictures of the kids, that was one of my contacts in Tulsa, and by the time he got backup to show the kids had been moved on. He did say they weren't speaking Spanish or Portuguese, though, so even though they're coming up through the southern border they're from a place that has a different language. He just didn't recognize it."

Damian hadn't moved during the entire discussion, and anyone who didn't know him would have assumed he was unaffected by its contents, but Tim noticed how his knuckles had gone white where they gripped the arms of his chair. "I will take the job of finding their transfer points. Our previous lack of thoroughness will be remedied."

They hammered out the rest of the details without much more discussion, and then Jason stood. "I've got patrol tonight so I'm gonna head to the Cave. See you, Timmers. Damian, you heading back?"

Damian opened his mouth to answer, but sudden impulse had Tim interrupting, "I've got something for Bruce, Damian, if you can wait for a second."

Damian's gaze flew to his face in obvious surprise, an emotion which Tim completely shared. Why did he always just babble shit out when he was around Damian? This had never been a problem before they fucked, so what was the connection between his dick and his inability to just shut his mouth?

Jason, oblivious, said, "Bye, then," and slammed the door behind him.

Tim spun on his heel and headed for his bedroom, calling over his shoulder, "Be right back. I ran into this Tamaranean who said she knew Bruce while I was on one of the places I made planet-fall, and she wanted me to give him this bottle of liquor I didn't recognize, but Kyle said it was okay and almost definitely not poisonous so I've got it in my bag."

He half-expected Damian to be gone by the time he returned, but instead he was just standing next to the door, looking bored. Tim was so determined to prove to himself that this entire interaction was normal that by the time he stopped in front of Damian, he realized he'd gotten too close. Damian's cologne once again floated over to him and wrapped around his throat like a leash, yanking him still closer.

"Here." He shoved the wrapped bottle into Damian's unresistant hands. "I'll be over at the Cave tomorrow. See you."

He would have made a run for it and let Damian show himself out, but Damian's hand shot out and grabbed his elbow. Tim froze and slowly looked up, making eye contact with some nervousness. That ache in his chest was back, along with the painful cramping in his stomach. Maybe he really was spacesick.

"What's up?" he managed, when no words from Damian seemed forthcoming.

Damian tilted his head, a gleam in his eyes that looked like green ice. "Why are you behaving in this fashion? Have you suffered brain damage in your absence? Oxygen deprivation, perhaps?"

Stung, Tim tried to wrench his elbow out of Damian's grip, but Damian didn't release him. He could have exerted more finesse and broken free with ease, but it wasn't worth the effort. "I didn't know that having a normal conversation was a sign of mental incapacitation. You can go now."

Damian stepped even closer. The heat from his body radiated into Tim's front. "I'm not leaving until you explain your erratic actions. Before you left you had barely said two words to me in months unless I forced the issue. I was actually there at Colu’s demise and you still didn't bother telling me where you were going. And now you're blabbering like someone poured truth serum into your water bottle."

The words hurt, but not as much as the tiny downward twist of Damian's mouth that was a greater sign of distress than he usually allowed himself. Without his conscious approval, Tim's free hand drifted up to cover Damian's where it held his arm. "I hadn’t said two words to you in months?" He had assumed their relationship would naturally return to its previous distant cordiality once Damian no longer required his services, but he hadn't intended to freeze Damian out. He'd let the pendulum of his behavior swing way too far if that were the case.

Damian didn't answer for a long moment, still examining Tim's face like he was trying to read a text in a language he barely spoke. "No. But I supposed that was to be expected, given my childishness. What I don't understand is why you've changed the status quo now."

"You weren't—you weren't childish," Tim said, forcing the words past a lump in his throat. Damn, his body was just falling apart. He needed to never go to space again. "I only—I thought we were done? You asked me for a favor and I delivered and so after that I figured the transaction was finished. We both had a lot on our plates and I guess I thought you were going to go broaden your horizons, work your way down your team’s roster or whatever. They're a lot more age-appropriate than me, anyway."

Damian rolled his eyes and dropped his elbow, though he didn't move away. "I would honestly wonder if you know me at all, if that's what you truly thought I wanted or needed. You don't, though. You should simply admit you weren't attracted to me and took pity on a virgin who begged for help. The truth is preferable to pretending the handful of years between us is an insurmountable gap."

Tim furrowed his brows in confusion. "It's not the truth, though."

Damian scoffed and turned away toward the door. "I've heard enough. Please return to not speaking to me if all you'll do is spout nonsense."

"No, wait!" Tim lunged for him, but Damian caught him by the shoulder and spun him to face him again, slamming up against the door with force that made his shoulder blades sing with pain.

"That is enough," he growled, but his eyes had begun to glitter and his nose was red and it hurt, it hurt to look at him feeling this way. Tim needed a ten-step plan and some advice from his friends but it felt like all he had was ten seconds and his gut, which was churning worse than ever.

"I really am attracted to you," he blurted. Damian straightened, eyes narrowed in guarded skepticism, his hand slipping off Tim's shoulder. "You want the truth? I'll be honest; I get off to the thought of you."

Damian stood immobile for a long second, and Tim stepped aside so he could finally walk out, face burning with embarrassment.

Instead of leaving, though, Damian leaned down and kissed his mouth.

days thirty-eight and thirty-nine here

[maddie-van-fleet]

Love Through The Lens

----------------------------November 29-----------------------------------

**edited by @pictures-of-time **

Multiple part series// this will contain graphic scenes, so it is 18+, MINORS DNI.

I did make a playlist for this series, feel free to listen along while you read :) i hope y'all enjoy it!! I, also, will be linking the master list to every chapter, once I get it made! The first few chapters are really short but i promise they will be longer from this point! I just needed the backstory laid out first.

note: this is my first full series story, so i do apologize if it isn't the best! I have pre written a few chapters so that i am able to post the first couple chapters, since they're short! I will get more drafted up over the next few days, so i can post asap! Please let me know what you think, as i am always trying to improve.

Summary: It was always your dream to be a concert photographer, and you had finally landed yourself a reputable status as a freelancer. Life, though, takes a turn when you land a job for Greta. The plan was to do the job, in and out, nothing more, but things get quite complicated when you start to develop feelings for a certain guitarist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

It had been a few years since graduation, and honestly, it had not gone totally to plan. A goal of business marketing in college and a solid 9-5 soon turned to something else. Being in music city, and away from your parents constant nagging,caused a change of heart. Suddenly, you understood what it meant to have a dream. And so, you had dropped out of college, not wanting to waste your time, and started freelance work as a concert photographer. It was hard, SO HARD, but after saving up for proper equipment, building up a portfolio, and taking every opportunity to photograph small artists that you could, you had finally built up a reputation in the industry that was catching the eye of bigger artists.

----current day----

You had just arrived at your favorite coffee shop. You ordered a chai latte, an apple danish, and found a seat in the farthest back corner away from the business of everyone chatting and walking around. Today wasn't too busy; no jobs scheduled for tonight, allowing more time to check emails and update the portfolio on your website. 

You had just logged into your laptop when a certain conversation caught your attention. You had never been one to eavesdrop until something they said made you go stiff. "Yea this band is really, really good! Apparently they're from Michigan, but they blew up so much this past year!". 

There was no way it was a coincidence, right? It couldn't be. You shook it off, not wanting to ponder on that and bring up old scars. The next few hours were spent answering emails and booking jobs when one in particular caught your eye. 

Oh no…no, no no no. You rubbed your eyes, thinking you were losing your mind, and you clicked on the email.

                  

   Hello, y/n

This is the social media and marketing manager for Greta Van Fleet! We have seen your work, and would love to set up a meeting with you about a few shows we'd like you to shoot! and if all goes well, we would also like to offer you a full time position! Please email us back as soon as you can to set up a meeting!

You stared at the screen, rereading it a hundred times. There was no way the boys wanted this, right? Especially Jake....after everything you had said. It had all been a mistake, he never deserved those words. But what could taking this job hurt? Do the couple of shows,  try to apologize and explain yourself, then be on your way. You needed the money, and it would give you a chance to fix things. There was no way the boys would want you to work full time anyways.

        

 Hello!

  I would love to set up a meeting, I am actually available today if anything this afternoon works! I can make my schedule work around yours since I work completely freelance.

You pressed send, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Pushing  your laptop aside you took  a bite of your snack and enjoyed your coffee, taking a break, when you heard the familiar ding of your emails. You open it to see their management already replied. WOAH that was fast.

      Y/N, today works perfectly! We see that you're local to Nashville and that is where our offices are actually located! We will send you the address, and we cannot wait to see you later today! We have your portfolio website, but feel free to bring anything else you would like to show us!

W-wait, they LIVED in Nashville now too?! You slammed the screen shut, putting your face in your hands. "I wasn't ready to SEE them today, what the hell do I say?" you whispered to yourself, feeling an anxiety attack coming on. You gathered your things and left for your apartment to prepare for the meeting.

Never did you think that after 3 years the boys would want to speak to you, not after you basically told them their dreams would fail. And now here they are, successful, selling out shows. Then there's you, someone who acted high and mighty only to realize just how wrong you were and now you have to face them. So, you drive back to your apartment, allowing all your anxiety, concerns and worries take over your mind.

Will they even want to see me?

[markicantwait]

Idk what im doing, but i love Haechan, so lets write big for him. English is not my first lenguage, so pardon me. This is goin to be long as fuck, guys, Kinda inspired by LOVE by Peggy and tonst of other songs. Meaby ill do a playlist later

L.O.V.E

Being an emerging writer wasn't as nice as it sounded in the media, your previous novel had been everything critics loved, six million copies so far and some occasional award nomination. Writing a psychological mystery story had been the best decision of your life, after years of spending time behind your laptop uploading things on your little (not so little) blog, it all brought you here, at this precise moment.

Your publisher wanted to exploit your success to the maximum, of course you had more works already done, but exclusivity was something that fans paid for "Write something new, make it good, it's clear that mystery is your thing, however , another novel of the same thing is not interesting, do something else" "Like what?" "'How about romance? Use your experiences, I don't know"

It's been three months since that conversation and almost two since your story blew up, it's been almost two months since you delivered the first draft of your romantic idea that your editor threw out the window declaring it was "poor"; to be honest you don't know how it happened at all but the next chapter was about you in the middle of Seoul in a cafe that opens 24hrs at the beginning of january

The cold in your hometown was moderate compared to Seoul, the snow was sometimes so thick that you thought twice before leaving your rented apartment, during the day it was bearable but when night came the beautiful view didn't made up for everything, that is why you still wonder how it was a good idea to go out on a snowy afternoon to get stuck in the cafe where you are now, where you are watching your next big hit.

He was wearing a blue sweeter and black jeans, the beanie traying to hide his brown hair and the black gloves still covering his hands; the warm inside the coffe shop and some indie song playing in the back complete the scene, its almost like you were watching a movie form direfent cuts were the lead meets their first love

His smile was big and he kep talking with his friends about something you have no idea, the idea you were currunlty working on, now forgotten, you opened a new word stared at the white new doc, you knew this was super childsish and meaby innapropiated but every inspiracion wave you could have was welcomed and needed at this point.

"His brown hair felt soft beteween my fingers, his arms making me feel secured and stady, his nose caressed my cheek before placing a kiss on it, while whispering a soft I love you, everything felt ten times bigger, the love bubbling in my chest, the chills in my arms, the beating of my heart so fast that I could hear it in my ear, the small doses of his lips on mine, he and I here and now we belonged to each other, we belonged together, this little space that we created inside my room, in my bed, under the covers, just him and me."

You were so focused on writing that you didn't see when the golden-skinned stranger left the place. By the time you looked back he was gone and along with him, your last chance for some inspiration.

The days passed with some tranquility after that meeting, the image of that stranger still alive in your brain was enough to fantasize about your next scenes. It wasn't like you had a "love at first sight" moment, you didn't really believe in it, but with your current state, it could easily be confused with it.

"I understand that a lot of this is new to you, but you can't take pictures and sign things all the time," your editor told you on his sixth call of the day.

"I am a writer, not the president, it's not a big deal if I spend some time with my readers, the least I can give them back is a little time, a couple of photos and a few signatures is nothing"

The news that you were in Seoul spread fast after photos your readers shared on some forums went viral. One of the main characters in your novel is of Korean descent, sounds silly, but maybe that's why your work liked there too, so somehow there are people who know you on this side of the world.

"Is it true that you are already working on your next novel? You haven't uploaded anything to your blog" asked a tall boy with black hair and heart-shaped lips.

"Do you follow my blog?"

"Of course, I'm a big fan of yours, ever since I read 'The Queen Is Dead' I knew you had talent, I don't have my copy of 'Intertwined Mysteries' with me, can you sign my diary? For Johnny, please"

Your editor can say what he wants, but you love your readers.

"I work at a radio station, we do cultural radio, I know it might be a bit abusive but would you consider going? My producer loves your work just the same"

"Give me your contact and I'll see what I can do"

Your editor, who in some ways seems more like your manager, did not want you to attend a radio show in a foreign country and without him having reviewed the interview first, however, after speaking with him and promising to send him your new draft, you were sitting next to Johnny in his car going to the building where the radio station operated.

"I can't believe you're really coming, the whole team was so excited, we really appreciate it"

"The pleasure is mine, thanks for having me there, I'm a little nervous"

"Don't worry about anything being there, I will be your assistant, translator, guide and friend for today"

The building was huge like everything in Korea, it looked like a place where there would be executives and not people doing radio, Johnny spent a good time introducing you to the different teams in the place, not just the production as you thought.

The floor where Johnny and his team worked was a few floors up, you both got on the elevator when you heard someone yell

"Hyung, Hyung" and what you could interpret as a "Stop the elevator"

"Oh Haechannie"

And then you saw it, your next big hit.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I just finished my first draft for Fantasy Fic Fest and I’m still in a mood.

I had two ideas for FFF and one didn’t make the cut so I’m gonna write y’all a little snippet and ask if you’d want more? (Also I’m committed to academia Carlos and I won’t back down.)

Pairing: Carlando

The house was dirt cheap and that’s why Carlos rented it. He had been living in house shares and flats for 10 years and maybe the fact that this house was the same price as some of the studio apartments in town should have told him something, but he had allowed himself to be taken in by the original wood floors and the high ceilings and the landlord who was so desperate for someone to move in that he waived the security deposit.

Carlos moves in on a Sunday and his first day at the university is on Wednesday, but he’s not unpacked until two weeks later and that’s when he really starts to notice things.

Until then he had been able to brush it off. He didn’t remember putting his glasses down on the counter, but he couldn’t really remember where anything was since it was mostly boxes and clutter anyway. He doesn’t think he left his egg pan in the kitchen floor, but maybe he knocked it off in a rush and he just doesn’t remember because it’s been such a whirlwind of a new semester and a new school. And he’s really just not sleeping well. It’s the old house, he tells himself. He’s not used to old house noises. And neither is Piñon.

By the end of September, he has to admit to himself that something is wrong. He’s a man of science, but there is no scientific explanation as to why one room of his house is 30 degrees colder than all the others every though he bought a space heater for it. He doesn’t know why the office doors slam shut randomly. The things in the kitchen rattle incessantly if he leaves anything in the sink. Piñon shivers underneath his bed randomly.

He admits to himself that something is very wrong, but he’s embarrassed by it and doesn’t want to be seen as a kook by his colleagues so he keeps it to himself.

He goes to parties and dinners and faculty meetings and he says his new house is nice and full of character and when he agrees to host a group of PhD candidates for an award thing dinner with a catered meal, he doesn’t expect to learn that he’s living in the town’s haunted house.

It’s a tall PhD candidate named George who is wearing a fucking bow tie that leans over and says, “You know that ghost show on YouTube said once that they wanted to do an episode here. Since you’re on the most haunted list for the Northeast.” He looks supremely proud of himself.

Carlos barely keeps it together long enough to hand him a glass of tea and he’s barely out of the room when the tea carafe is tipped over and Carlos has to save it. Fucking haunted fucking house, of course.

After the students clear out, Carlos googles his own address and stares as result after result comes up and he reads in horror. Mysterious deaths. Suicides. Missing children. Hauntings. Carlos is so confused because the most that he’s experienced is his belongings being moved and a severe lack of sleep.

He clicks over to videos and there’s a clip of the cutest curly haired human being he’s ever seen in his life. He’s standing in front of Carlos’ house but everything is covered in snow so it’s not recent.

“And this is the ultimate. Cloaked in mystery and legend, no one has ever been granted permission to film inside, so we only have very limited data and a few photographs.” His adorable little Californian accent says.

Carlos is entranced and before he can stop himself, he’s looking at the YouTube channel - Lando. His name is Lando. And Carlos is emailing him with an attached picture of himself and Piñon on the front steps the day he moved in. He tells him that Lando is more than welcome to come and look around, but no cameras.

He shuts his laptop down, embarrassed that the draw of Lando was that great. He just needs to go on a date. Get laid. Stop thinking about beautiful YouTubers who make ghost shows.

He means to fall asleep immediately, but Piñon is shaking again and it’s very cold and maybe Lando does need to come and sort out the haunting.

[icedbatik]

Sometimes you stop and think, why does it have to be us struggling? Why does it have to be us who can't string up wins early in the year? Why do we have to be hit by adversity at the least ideal times while you look around and see all the other teams finding ways to win? Sometimes you'd think if it's worth sacrificing a winning streak in March (when the playoff picture is set anyway) as long as we're in a playoff spot in November. So many thoughts and I apologize for feeling this

Anonymous asked:

It's so hard to feel good about your favorite team when it seems like the entire league (save for a few teams) are doing so well, you know? They're getting fluke goals to win games. Every shot they take goes on their way. Seeing all these teams with 7+ wins, them celebrating win streaks, makes me wonder if when can we reach that mark. I miss the Pens winning or even the high of success, and all the talk of us landing the top pick in a deep draft makes me very uncomfortable.

--

Hi, anons!

Sorry for my delayed reply. I was traveling and, even with my laptop, I tend to spend less time online when I have a new city or two to explore instead. But I'm back now and (mostly) settled in. First, you're allowed to feel what you feel. But I hope I can ease your fears a bit. My best answer for both of these questions is a line Rob Rossi included in his The Athletic article about Geno's 1,000th game: " ... the Penguins went from near the bottom of the Eastern Conference to within a point of a wild-card slot on this trip." That is the difference simply stringing together a few wins can make. It doesn't take winning every game to make the playoffs. Just a decent amount. Even an unprecedented slump can be mitigated with a few wins. I would love nothing more than to see the Pens win an entire 82-game season. (That would be amazing!) But losses are going to happen. If you're lucky, there won't be too many. The losing streak certainly has made the rest of the season a tad more challenging for the Pens, but it's not insurmountable. Seriously. It's not. And getting the losing streak out of the way now is a lot better -- gives them longer to do damage control -- than a losing streak in the spring would be.

For all the Thanksgiving talk, final playoffs spots aren't set until around late March. One year I recall, the Pens played their final game of the season and had to wait until two teams played their final game against each other before the Pens knew if they'd be in the playoffs, because their fate rested in which team won that game. Worrying about playoffs spots this early in the season is just ... unnecessarily stressful. Sure, the team needs to be aware of where they are in the standings and do what they can to play their best. It's their job. But we, as fans, have no control over that outcome and stressing out about it won't do much good.

Just ... keep supporting the team and the players and finding your enjoyment where you can. And please don't make yourself sick over it or get angry with the players. I have no doubt they're doing what they can to win. We don't always know everything going on behind the scenes.

[pixiemage]

1, 10, 12?

[For the Fanfiction Writing Ask Game]

Anon, these are fantastic questions and I love you for choosing them

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Oh I'm definitely a daydreamer. Sometimes a certain scene pops into my head the second I read a prompt and I'll just jump right in, but most of the time I do a TON of plot musing between my writing sessions. I also have a habit of building Spotify playlists that remind me of characters or fics I'm working on. I have a 20-30 minutes drive to and from work, and most recently I've taken to listening to my Team Rancher or TNaWY playlists and pulling scene ideas from the lyrics. I also like to just - play things out in my head, picture the mannerisms, toy with alternate options, puzzle out dialogue and reactions. It's SO fun and it helps give me some direction when I finally get back to my laptop to write!

(A total of three MAJOR scenes/plot points upcoming in TNaWY were directly inspired by songs I listened to on the way to work. :3)

10. Do you work on multiple WIPs or stick to one fic at a time?

I used to just write one fic at a time and ONLY branch out to write something else when some stray inspiration is distracting me too much to focus on my main fic. More recently, I've found that bouncing between a few fics (only a few) helps keep me from getting burnout or bored. If one fic is giving my writer's block, I'll hop to the next one and come back when I've gotten something else written out elsewhere. Sometimes that's all I need to kick my writer brain back into gear so I can get past that accursed road bump. ^^

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Mmm, it depends. If it's a shorter fic, I never outline. I just - write. Part of this is because I like to let the characters guide the narrative, because sometimes I find that they react differently in the moment than what I was anticipating beforehand. (This might shock a few folks, but MOST chapters I write are basically first drafts with only a handful of grammatical edits and a few single-sentence rewrites.) However, I'm more likely to scribble out a ROUGH outline if either (A) I'm losing my momentum and I need to get past a block, because laying out what's left to write in a chapter in the dumbest terms possible helps make it feel like a much easier task...OR (B) if I've taken a longer chapter-length fic under my belt. I usually have a rough plan in my head already, but jotting down which moments are gonna go in which chapters is helpful for timeline purposes.

I rarely get specific in outlines, but giving myself dumbed-down and simple bullets to meet sometimes helps give me an anchor point as well as some easy goals to achieve as a write. It's less likely that I'll abandon a fic that way <3 (I might need to do this with Domino Effect bc I'm a bit stuck with that one atm akdsjbaw)