#I set a timer and I reached the timer I'm no longer working on this

[housederiva]

I may not understand how Davrin Dragon Age's clothes work yet but I do have a comprehensive knowledge of cleavage and a deep desire to figure out how to paint digitally

[valtsv]

hi hello! i recall you talking about how you used to have an unhealthy dependence on attention you got from the internet a while ago, and was wondering if you had any tips on how to help with that? i recently found myself sorta relying too much on the affirmation i get from Numbers Going Up and i wanna nip it in the bud before it becomes a Thing. thank you! ^^

i found that the best way to curb the addiction was to wean myself off it bit by bit. start with something small and achievable, like setting a time limit for how long you spend online in one sitting (set a timer to help you if necessary), or setting aside specific free periods in the day when you can check your notifications or whatever, then gradually limit it further until you've reached a point you're comfortable with. you'll find that the more you stick to the goals you've set for yourself, the more it'll start to feel like a reward and substitute for the affirmation you get from number go up (and you'll start to pay more attention to how you spend your limited time and what are the best ways to do so).

place your phone or laptop or whatever device you use for social media out of sight while doing other activities, so that you have to make the conscious effort to seek them out (and thus consider whether you really want to do it) (if i'm trying to concentrate on something, for example, i'll put my phone in a drawer or in my bag/pocket, and make sure i can't hear or see any notification messages). if you feel you can, turn off or temporarily mute your notifications - that works wonders for me.

use the free time you've created for yourself to seek out things you've always wanted to do but never felt like you had the time for. read the book you've been putting off, write something, draw something, get into that crafting hobby, or go for a walk and feed some birds at the pond, go out and challenge yourself to take a photo of something eyecatching to share with your friends, go to a cafe, meet up with a friend, try out that recipe you saved because you thought it sounded nice, look into social groups, events and clubs that cater to your interests/hobbies in your local area - even make use of the time you'd normally spend on social media to do something else online, like wikipedia deep diving, watching a show, or replying to that person you forgot to get back to.

above all, don't beat yourself up along the way. take each day as it comes and each relapse as motivation to keep pushing forwards and make it a little longer between the next one. don't blame yourself for what you can't change (the past) but try to focus on what you can (the future).

[simp-ly-writes]

"Need a Lift?"

─────── · ·

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!British!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: It is your first time traveling to the USA, once there you are like a fish outta water but thankfully you run into Spencer who is more than willing to help you!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, meet-cute, fluff, cute, probably stereotypical british things.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,209

─ · · A/N: in anons we trust for cute asks like this! 🫶

─────── · ·

It was your first time traveling to the USA. You were a 'creator on the rise' youtube told you and next thing you knew you were being placed on a pre-paid flight to creator-con with a fancy badge dangling from your neck.

You were completely out of your element and went into an immediate culture shock at the vast space there was between cities and states to blocks and buildings. Just the grand scale of it all and even the events hall itself held you floored as you were quite embarrassed to admit your mouth was quite literally hanging open.

You thought back to your three-story row house, two lane roads, and easily accessible public transit, everything only being a hop, skip, and a jump away. So when you were not thinking to set your timer earlier than you usually got up, you were rushing around your hotel room to get ready and get your ass over to your meet-and-greet on time.

Choosing random clothes out of your suitcase while cursing the living heavens our of yourself and your door that failed multiple times to lock, you were stumbling into the elevator with your shoes half on and your sweater askew, non-the-obvious to the other inhabitant of the elevator.

"What floor are you headed two?" a male voice piped up as you whipped your head around, catching your appearance in the mirrored interior and giving yourself a wince. "Oh-ah, the street floor please?" your quickly answer, giving the man a quick once over and the politest smile your can muster before fixing your appearance and feeling around in your pockets for your badge.

"I think what you're looking for is in your back pocket," he comments, giving you a awkward smile back. "Cheers, thanks," you answer back, reaching around and pulling it over your head with a sigh of relief before realizing he is wearing a matching one.

"You going to this event too?" You ask, waving around your badge to his nod. "Yeah, I'm actually doing a panel in 15 minutes. I didn't think I would sleep in so much, it was not that far of a drive for me..." his sentence ends with stressed laughter that you join.

"So you're from around here?" you now take a longer look at the man before the elevator door opens and he lets you go out first before you both walk in tow to the front of the lobby and out to the car-loop.

"Yeah, I work about three hours away from here on a good day. By the accent, it sounds you're visiting outta town I assume?"

"Mhmm, first time in the United States actually and I never expected it to be this bloody hot in fall," you mutter once emerging out of the air conditioned space, throwing off all those layers you struggled to put on this morning.

The man laughs, his joyfulness reaching his eyes has your heart miss a beat as you take in the curls underneath his baseball cap, un noticing to the embroidered logo. "Yeah, the weather doesn't seem to change much around here, its either kinda hot or hella hot. Since we are heading the same way, would you 'need a lift?'" he teases your accent as you consider your answer.

"I would say that was one of the better interpretations, good on you. I don't think I would usually say this to someone I just met but sure, that would be lovely actually since I have no idea where I am going," it is now your time to anxiously laugh to receive a comforting smile.

"The passengers side should be unlocked, hop in," you get open the door and buckle yourself in. "I forgot to ask your name," you state, watching as he fixes a pair of sunglasses to his face before putting an arm around the back of your chair to back out of the parking lot.

You take notice of the tattoos stretching up his forearm and try and peer at the ones hidden near his shoulder with utmost intrigue. "Spencer Angew, yours?"

"(first/name) (last/name), pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well, so what events are you heading for?"

"Oh, I'm casted in an event also in... ten minutes now," you look down to check your phone and catching an onslaught of notifications coming from your social platforms. Not wanting to feel rude to the conversation, you cast away your work into your discarded jacket on your lap.

"Is it the old meets new panel?" Spencer asks, shifting gears as you pull out onto the highway. "Yeah," you confirm.

"I'm doing the same one, funny odds of that happening, huh?"

"Very much so but from our conversation so far, I'm happy to be doing it with you," you add, not looking to see his reaction and instead watch the vast sea of cars and signs around you.

"I'll have to say the same, I was quite nervous for this one since I would be the only member from the cast to be on it-"

Your head whips back over, your eyebrows raised in confusion. "Wait, you're on a cast? I thought this was a creators event?" You quickly open up your email to read over the documents you signed a few days ago in panic. You were not a professional actor, director, nor comedian. What the hell were they going to expect you to do on that stage?

"It is, the company I work for does skit comedy and we have a cast that preforms skits in between their outside work," Spencer explains, taking a look at the mirrors before looking at you. Now catching the logo atop his head, your eyes widen.

"Oh my god, thats so cool! Wait... do you work for Smosh? I used to love watching those dudes when I was a kid, didn't understand much of what they were referencing but they're still going at it?" you gush, arms now leaning over the console in excitement as Spencer tenses before relaxing.

"Yeah, I work for them..." Spencer trails off, listening to the GPS system to take the next right. Your brain short-circuits, forgetting that the roads where different. "That must be weird working with like the fathers of youtube?" you ask.

"It was at first but by the third year, it wears off and you just realize they are two dudes making videos, or well now running a business to make videos." And the next thing you knew you're both entering through the guest side-entrance and are being ushered on stage.

It is a roaring of claps and cheers as your eyes blink and your body freezes. Spencer places a hand on your upper back, giving you a look of concern. "You alright?" he has to shout in your ear as staff rush to fit your microphones and sound packs. "With a handsome lad like you sitting beside me, I have nothing to worry about," you tease to instil false confidence within yourself.

Spencer laughs, shaking his head at you, his cheeks warming as you cast him a wink, that series of events would be clipping to every social platform in the next hour and a new shipped was formed that morning.

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala @laurasdrey

[dreamscapesofimagination]

A/N: I'm waiting on a timer for dinner so decided to write a quick thing for Alan, my other bby.

TW: Fluff? Confessions. Leo being a shit. Alan in a tanktop all sweaty which may be a whole warning itself lol.

Summary: You stop by to get Alan to look over some forms, and Leo decides enough is enough.

-----------

You silently cursed your uniform.

The sun glared down today, and it had taken approximately three steps outside for you to wish for some lighter clothing.

The only relief from the heat was the refreshing breeze that rustled the trees, bringing with it the faint smell of engine oil as your steps led you toward Vagastrom.

Even the cats seemed irritated by the heat, some lazily sprawled in the grass to soak up the suns rays without overheating.

Of course today was the day that something had been overlooked on the most recent report for Vagastrom, so not only did you have to trek to the staffroom to collect the report from an even more disgruntled than usual Professor Dante, you also had to then trek toward Vagastrom.

The only benefit was the fact that you needed Alan to look over the form personally. You had long since accepted your attraction to the stoic captain, and between Sho and Leo's relentless comments you had gleaned that he may feel something for you as well. Unfortunately, when it came to any sort of relationship, Alan was like a frightened bird, and so you refused to approach him yourself for fear of making him uncomfortable.

Alan had let you know he would be around back, working on one of the cars.

You made your way along the dusty ground, using the folder in your hand to fan yourself.

"Hey Alan, I have those-"

The sight of him stopped you in your tracks.

He was leaned over the open hood of the car, and you couldn't help the flush that rushed to your cheeks at the sight of his back, sweat causing the grey tank top to cling to his muscles.

He quickly turned and lord have mercy.

He was definitely trying to kill you.

His skin glistened, evidence he had been working in the heat for awhile, and a black smudge accented his cheek bone.

"You have the report?" He asked, using an old rag to wipe the grease from his hands.

"Y-yeah, Professor Dante said you had to revise the Darkwick Property Damage clause." You stammered out the words, quickly focusing on the car.

"Is that-?"

"The car that the absolute embarassment if a first year wrecked on the mission? Yeah. Luckily the broker of that anomaly wasn't able to do anything extreme but its still a headache to repair." Alan sighed, reaching into the cooler that was beside the car and pulling out two water bottles.

He handed you one as he took the folder, frowning as he examined the report within.

You perched on an old tire that lay by Alan's tools, enjoying the coldness of the waterbottle and desperately trying to avoid looking at Alan.

It was hard to not look as he looked at the report, leaning against the car.

His skin had gained a slight tan, and you found yourself wishing (not for the first time) that things could be very different between you two.

"I'll fix this report as soon as I'm done with the car, do you want to wait here until I'm done?" Alan looked at you, expression softeningat the sight of you pressing the waterbottle against your heated forehead.

You smiled at him, "yeah, I'll wait. I really don't feel like walking back across campus and then needing to come back here only to go back to the main building and then back to my dorm."

Alan placed the folder through the open window onto the seat of the car.

"Well, you're welcome to wait inside. I know its hot. It shouldn't take me much longer- one of the bolts I need to get off is stuck but I've almost gotten it," he leaned back over the car as he spoke.

You pulled off your blazer, setting it under your head as you laid back on the tire. When you weren't moving the sun actually felt nice, and you were admittedly loathe to leave Alan. It wasn't often you got to be with just him.Since it was unlikely you and he would ever be together, you soaked up as much one on one as you could.

Before you knew it, you were dozing in the warm sun.

"What're you guys up to?"

A voice that you knew all to well jostled you awake, and you sat up.

You watched Alan stifle a groan, supressing a smile yourself at your shared disdain for Leo.

"What do you want?" Alan asked, refusing to look at Leo, focused instead on the car.

Leo shrugged, "Just figuring out why you have the honor student laying on a tire." The words "honor student" were said with a sneer.

"I'm just waiting for him to correct a report so I can take it to Professor Dante." you spoke, eyes narrowed at Leo.

"Ah, I see. And you're waiting in the blazing sun because of what?" you felt a tingle in your spine at the knowing look in his eye.

"I mean, I can only think of one reason why you'd be out here, alone, in the blistering heat with our less than chatty captain."

"Leo." Alan's voice was stern as he growled the warning.

Ignoring him, Leo continued, "now, I've definitely noticed you following the buzzkill around like a lost puppy, and man is it pathetic to watch."

"Leo!" Alan snapped, turning to glare at the silver haired man.

Leo just shrugged, "c'mon, you're equally pathetic, Cap. It'd be a lot less gross for everyone else if you both would just get together already."

Your cheeks burned at his words, and a side glance to Alan showed his ears to be red.

"You and I are training tomorrow. I want to see if your hand to hand has gotten any better." Alan seethed, and from his tone you figured that Leo was still no match for the captain.

Rolling his eyes, Leo turned, "Yeah, whatever Cap."

You pointedly looked at your feet, avoiding looking at the man beside you.

You knew Alan harbored some sort of feelings for you, and you figured he probably knew about yours. However, knowing and having them thrust in your face were two separate matters entirely.

"Sorry 'bout him." Alan's voice pulled your attention back to him.

You shook your head, "you don't have to apologize."

You wondered if you made Alan uncomfortable- afterall, you knew he had reservations when it came to hurting others (at least, when it came to you). Maybe your clear desire to be around him was too much.

"Alan," he looked at you, "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I can't really help how I feel but if me being around so much is causing issues I'll just stay away unless otherwise is necessary."

He frowned, tilting his head.

"That's- You are not the issue." he sighed, "I am."

He came over, sitting beside you on the tire.

"I have feelings for you, I just don't want to hurt you. I'd never forgice myself. Maybe its selfish but I'd rather have you close by never close enough than not see you."

You carefully reached out, taking his hand in yours. You could feel his body stiffen at your touch.

"Alan, you know you won't hurt me, right? I trust you. And if it takes awhile for you to trust yourself then thsts okay, and I won't push anything again. But, I like you a lot, and I'm here whenever you're ready." You watched his gaze fall to your hands and he squeezed gently before meeting your eyes.

You noticed the determination in his dark eyes.

"I want to try this out. For once, Kurosagi is right. Its honestly more pathetic for me to keep being petrified."

You felt your heart hammer in your chest as all your focus fell to Alan.

He smiled, "I'd like to take you out on a date."

The grin that spread across your face was so wide that it hurt, but the joy inside you wouldn't allow it to lessen.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Alan."

[omo-queer]

hi! tysm for your answer 🥺 i looked up "rapid desperation" online and based on my own understanding, this is how it works:

1. drink the same specific amount of water every 15 mins within an hour (you can pee within that 1 hour).

2. after that first hour, you should continue doing it but this time, the hold starts. bathrooms are not allowed.

after this, what shall i do next? do i just keep drinking until i can't hold it anymore? or should i set a goal (for example, wait for 2 hours until i can finally pee)?

thank you so much for helping a beginner out! 💗 also looking forward to more of your blogs

- 🩰

the rapid desperation approach i've seen and used a variant on myself is:

drink at least a glass (350ml/12oz or about that) every hour. this works best if you start this at least an hour or two before the hold, and pee as normal. this part basically gives your kidneys the heads-up that they're gonna be moving water fast bc you keep drinking it.

then do what you're implying—drink a glass every 15 minutes for a hour during which you can pee regularly

after that, you're holding. continue drinking at 15 minute intervals, and keep going until you lose control—the idea behind rapid desperation is that it makes this part go quickly because you've told your body to make pee faster, essentially.

this takes more planning than just like. not peeing for a long time. but it can get some interesting results. i would honestly recommend you try a couple regular holds before you go for rapid desperation, making sure not to go past the point of pain (discomfort is fine but pain you have to be careful about), because rapid desperation is one of the easier ways to have to worry about electrolyte balance (salt/potassium stuff) if you do it way too hard or way too fast. that said, i mentioned it because you were asking for specific challenges and it's a very fun one, just as long as you listen to your body.

remember, your safety comes before anything else—holding is good fun but it's important to learn what your body can and can't do, and to listen when it gives you signs to stop. you're very unlikely to hold so long you seriously hurt yourself, because the body usually gives up trying to hold it in before that's likely. but in rare cases you can experience water toxicity or overwork the muscles around your bladder if you go way too hard right out of the gate and don't listen to your body. try not to hold two days in a row when you're first starting out, and give yourself longer breaks of at least a few days between intense holds (where you actually lose control or get really close) to give your bladder and your muscles time to recover.

ok. that's the safety lecture over. it's not really that risky a kink, i just really wanted to stress how important listening to your body is when holding.

if you haven't done any holds yet, my first recommendation would be to drink liquids as normal, maybe slightly more than normal, and wait until they catch up to your bladder—eventually, if you keep drinking normally, you won't be able to hold any longer and will begin leaking or even wet yourself. even getting close to this is really thrilling. coffee/tea and other diuretics help get you more desperate, too. i typically wait until i'm right on the edge of wetting and then either go to the bathroom or (if i have the situation to) keep holding until i lose control. setting a timer that's a little overambitious usually also works for me because i tend to have a bit more bladder strength than i assume... but i've also been recreationally holding it for a pretty long time, all things considered.

thank you for reaching out! i hope my answers are helpful. i'm glad you enjoy my posts—might do a hold tomorrow or the next day or something, and it seems folks have been submitting anons for bladder control (which i love!!) so there will no doubt be more posts on the way.

i'll be asleep for a while once i post this, but feel free to send in any other questions you have via ask or dm! and of course, i always welcome talking about holds/experiences in my inbox!

[antisocialgaycat]

i have a test tomorrow so short story time! no i havent researched anything and for the sake of the vibes ignore any stupid plotholes also no editing we die like real men

I know that I probably should be scared. No one's ever travelled this deep into the ocean before and come out alive. Actually, no one's ever travelled this deep into the ocean before at all. But as I walk towards the ship, I feel this overwhelming sense of calm. I know the dangers that come with this. I know that I likely won't make it back to the surface once I leave. I know that this might just be the last time I breathe in this air, the last time I hear a voice other than my own. But still, I am calm.

I step inside. There isn't much space in here, everything is filled with equipment and padding and more equipment. Behind me, I can hear the lady with the clipboard walking towards me. Her heels make a clicking sound on the jetty. Click, click, click. As the footsteps get louder, I start to wonder how I'm the first person doing this. How has this never been done before? We've travelled to the edges of the solar system but we haven't travelled to the bottom of the sea. Click, click, click. I wonder if the lady with the clipboard knows what's going on in my mind. Probably not. She has bigger things to think about, like making sure this all goes smoothly. Click, click, click. The clicking almost seems like a countdown.

"You doing okay in there?" Her voice isn't what I expected. It's tired and sad. I look up at her face and see the hopelessness plastered all over her features. In the brightest voice I can muster I respond "Of course! This is what I've been preparing for." She glances up from her clipboard, giving me a sad look. "Yes. Yes it is."

She crosses a large section off on her clipboard. I'm no longer calm, instead it feels as though I'm being crushed by dread. What if I die down there? "You ready for me to shut this?" Her voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Yes. I'm ready." The door hinges shut and is almost fully closed before I shout out "Wait!" The lady with the clipboard obliges and the sunlight streams back inside. "What's your name? It doesn't feel right not knowing it when you might be the last person I'll ever see." She smiles at me. "Of course. I'm Isa. Well, technically Isabella, but no one calls me that other than my mother."

"Well Isa," I say, "Thank you. Genuinely. I'm ready now." We share a smile and then the door shuts with a gentle click.

I make my way over to the controls. There's nothing I really need to do. The path is pre-set. All I need to do is press "Go" and I'm off. Possibly forever. Is this how astronauts feel? Putting their lives in the hands of others, in the hands of machines? In the hands of people who only consider them test subjects, as expendable.

I press Go. The click the engine makes as it gets started echoes throughout the entire ship. I sit down cross-legged on the floor and wait for, well, nothing really. Once I get to the bottom I won't be doing anything much other than coming back up. There's a rover attached to the side of the ship which will be put down automatically before I leave. Technically, I don't need to be here at all. I'm just an experiment.

The thought calms me for some reason. An experiment. I know how experiments work. I check the timer on the wall. 2 minutes 23 seconds into the trip. Only 52 hours and 39 minutes left in this experiment. 52 hours and 39 minutes until I return home. With a click the purple light turns on and suddenly everything is so much more eerie. The shadows from the machines seem to be reaching out to me, and so I join them for a little while.

When I wake, I check the timer. It's been 4 hours and 7 minutes. I know soon, I won't be able to see anything at all. Purple light might be one of the last to disappear, but it still does eventually. Everything disappears, when you think about it. Some things easier than others. Some things just slip through the cracks and life continues as though they were never there at all. I hope I don't end up like that.

Eventually my mind wanders back to Isa. I wonder what made her so tired, so hopeless. It was as though all the life had been sucked out of her. But when she smiled, the colours of the world somehow seemed a little brighter. I vow to make it back, if only to see her again. What I wouldn't do to see another human being right now. With that thought I drift back to sleep.

It's dark when I wake. I thought I knew dark before, but this is a whole new level. It's comforting, like a blanket, wrapping around me, keeping me safe and warm, but at the same time, I can't help but be wary. The engine is all but silent, and without light and sound, it feels like I shouldn't be here. My heart beats louder then ever, reminding me that I don't belong here.

I sit there for a while, thinking about nothing and everything all at once, until I feel the ship start to slow. Then it stops. It's even quieter in here now. The only thing that lets me know I'm not dead is the feeling of the floor under my hands and the coolness of the machine behind my back. I startle as I hear the click of the rover dropping down to the ocean bed, ringing out against the crushing silence, and then it's quiet once more.

To fill the silence, I sing. Softly at first, with a voice cracked and shaky. I don't remember the last time I sang. With every phrase my volume grows and something within me clicks into place. I feel safe, and any fears I had slip away. I sing every song I've ever known, then I repeat and repeat and repeat. The hours pass by almost as fast as when I was asleep.

Before I know it, the door is opening with a gentle click and the fresh air floods in with the soft light of the sunset.I can see Isa smiling down at me and even if only for a moment, everything is alright.

[akisunlovesnalu]

Part 2 to my PunkFlower fic with no title...

During their annual “Summer Sleepover”, Nobody expected to find Miles, a boy with amnesia and a secret that goes deeper than just running away from home.

Hobie, Gwen, and Pav are going to help him solve this mystery by whatever means possible… Even if that means adopting the kid into their friend group by default.

The teens were able to navigate their way back to Hobie's place with little issue…

Well, Hobie almost refused to pay the bus fare because the driver was giving him looks… And Pav’s eagerness to get home caused them to get off a stop early… And Gwen wanted to swing by the corner store for more junk food resulting in the three ‘introducing’ Miles to a microwave.

“There's absolutely no way you don’t know what a microwave is!” Hobie struggled to contain his astonishment, his hands guiding Miles toward the back of the store.

“I never said I don’t know what a microwave is.” Miles rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I may have amnesia but I'm pretty sure I didn't live under a rock!”

“Or inside of a spaceship?” Pav popped out of nowhere, a glazed donut fit snug between his lips.

“Or that.” Miles hissed through gritted teeth. He fought the urge to knock every bag of chips in Pavitr’s arm to the ground.

“Aww come off it, Miles!” Hobie stopped them in front of the microwave. It sat snug in the corner, right next to the smoothie machine. Hobie directed Miles’s attention to an assortment of foods, sweet and savory alike.

“Now choose your favorite. This is a learning experience after all!”

Miles tilted his head in confusion, tapping his leg in deep thought. Hobie and Pav gave each other a secretive look and grinned. This guy was weird in the endearing i-wanna-get-to-know-you sorta way. It was obvious that Pav found him amusing.

Hobie found him kind of cute.

“You really don't have to do this.” And Gwen found her friends annoying. 

One hand was on her hip while the other held cavity-riddled sweets like marshmallows and Skittles. She raised an eyebrow in exasperation, eyeing Hobie suspiciously. “I’ve got what I need, we can go.”

“Not now Gwen!” Hobie shushed her, his eyes trailing after Miles’s hand. “Learning! experience!”

“Can’t he learn back at your place?”

“Shh!”

Miles made a pleased noise, reaching forward and grabbing a beef patty. “This looks interesting…”

“Oh, he’s got taste!” Pav exclaimed, giving Hobie a high five.

“Now pop it in the microwave so we can leave,” Gwen said, taking the patty from Miles and tossing it inside. She slammed the door shut and began dialing numbers on the screen.

“Woah woah woah!” Hobie smacked her hand out of the way. “You’re putting it in for too long!”

“No!” Gwen smacked his hand away. “You’re not putting it in long enough!”

“I actually think it should go in longer.” Pav chimed in, his hand shoved in a chip bag.

“WHAT!?” Gwen and Hobie turned to him in disgust. And, as per usual, an argument broke out.

As he set the microwave timer to match the package instructions, Miles wondered whether these three were as close as they claimed. He leaned against the microwave, crossing his legs and raising his eyebrows while the timer ticked down.

The device beeped loudly, and finally, the three turned their attention to Miles, who held the patty up with a smug smile.

“Thanks, guys. I learned a ton.” He winked and slammed the door shut, striding over to the exit as the appliance flickered off and on in an instant.

The others stared hard at him, the shock evident on their faces.

“Told you he knew how to work a microwave…” Gwen whispered.

Hobie shook himself out of his stupor and shoved her away.

So… yeah. They made it back to his apartment with little issue.

The next morning was the interrogation. Not that Hobie felt any joy in calling it that…

But with the way they had sat Miles at the dining table while the others sat directly in front of him, each in their own individual chairs… what else would you call it?

A talk? A friendly conversation? A divine intervention without the use of divinity? 

Nah. 

You could shift the wording around as much as you wanted but this was an interrogation no matter what angle you looked at it from.

And Miles looked on at it with nervous, shifting eyes.

“What, are you finna beat the shit out of me?”

Hobie made an offended noise, pausing the melody his fingers played from his guitar.

“I told you he’d hate us!” Pav whined, holding his head in shame.

“We’re not gonna beat you up, Miles” Gwen soothed, sliding a toaster strudel over to his side of the table.

“You sure?” Miles sent an uneasy glance at Hobie and his guitar.

“I told you no guitar!” The girl hissed between a mouthful of frosting. 

“She calms me down!” Hobie countered. He struck an angry cord. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“So what are you doing?” Miles interrupted. He hasn’t touched his plate.

“Listen,” Hobie sighed, sitting upright and glaring intently into the boy's eyes. He was immediately caught off guard. The more he looked at them, the more they seemed to twinkle. Of course, the sunlight streaming in from his window definitely helped with the aesthetic but… Hobie was sure they’d still look just as captivating without the sun’s extra flare. He felt a sudden urge to pull out his phone camera and snap a quick picture. 

Hobie really liked Miles’ eyes…

“We wanna help.” He finally said.

“Yeah?” Miles relaxed his posture. 

Hobie raised a calculating brow. “Obvs.”

Miles’s face twisted in confusion. 

“That’s British for: Duh.” Pav grinned.

“Right you are!” Hobie ruffled the boy's hair good-naturedly.

 Miles sent a smile across the table. “I appreciate the help. For real.”

Gwen sends back a smile of her own.

“We were planning on showing you around the city,” She said. “Maybe it’ll jog your memory?”

“Yeah, I'm down.” Miles took a small bite out of his toaster strudel and kept his mouth shut until his plate was licked clean. 

“Thanks for the food.” He licked the frosting off his fingers, looking up and meeting eyes with an occupied Hobie. 

The boy was strumming a tune on his guitar again, his body slouched as he leaned back on the chair.

“This is your house right?” Miles asked to which the punk hummed. “Mind if I use the shower?”

“It’s all yours…” Hobie gestured towards the door. “I’ll lend you some of my garms since you’re fresh out,” he smirked.

Miles looked down at his oversized white shirt…. Hobie’s shirt. “Thanks again man,” he said, shutting the bathroom door. “I owe you one!”

There's a beat of silence before anyone dares to speak up.

“That went well!” Pav beamed.

“More importantly,” Hobie changes the subject. “How old is he?”

“Why do you wanna know that…?” Gwen has a teasing lilt in her tone.

“Nothin’ important. Just seems familiar.”

Gwen and Pav fall silent. 

“Familiar?” Pav begins slowly. “Familiar how?”

“Age?” The Punk deflects.

Gwen sighs. “He’s around 15-16.”

Pav nods his head. “He doesn't remember the exact date but he knows they celebrated when the flowers were in bloom…”

So his birthday has already passed…

“How do you know this?” Hobie asks skeptically. He’s now tapping a finger on the body of his guitar.

It calms him down.

“He told us while you were arguing with the bus driver.” Gwen shoots him a look.

“Listen!-” Hobie starts but he’s quickly interrupted by a loud thud from the bathroom. He drops his guitar and shares a concerned look with the others.

“Fuck!” They hear Miles say followed by an even louder bang.

“Hey now,” Hobie springs up, creeping closer to the bathroom door. “Don’t be makin’ dog's breakfast out of my utilities!” 

“Uhm,” Miles’s voice cracks as he calls out. “No dog food being made here! Nope! Everything is fine!”

One last bang is heard before the lights in Hobie’s home shut off…

“What the hell?”

And turned on again.

The door slams open and Miles is there in a white towel with water drifting down his body and soiling Hobie’s wooden floors. His fist tightens on the door frame as he asks, “Can I borrow some clothes now?”

The bandages that the three had handed him last night were thrown onto random patches of skin in a lackluster manner. It looked like he had wrapped gauze around his right arm as soon as he jumped out of the shower. 

Despite his poor first aid skills, Hobie’s attention was on something else entirely. The water dripping down his jaw…

Was being ignored for now.

“...must be goin’ barmy” Hobie whispered.

“Clothes!?!” Pav stepped in, patting Hobie’s shoulder sympathetically on his way over. “Let me pick out an outfit!” 

“Oh-” Miles stumbled as Pav pushed him towards the bedroom. “Yeah man, thanks-” 

The door finally shuts and Hobie breathes.

“Wow.” Gwen snickers, doubling over onto the floor.

Hobie shakes his head in annoyance. “ ‘low it…”

___________________________________

They took the bus again. Hobie was a bit tired of the constant suspicious stares these Bus drivers kept giving him… But he kept it to himself.

He could at least respect a fellow who drove for folks who weren’t able to. Even if buses release a ridiculous amount of carbon into the air…

Maybe they should have walked…

Well, Hobie forced the group to get off a few stops ahead of plan, much to Gwen's annoyance, and they ended up walking around and exploring some of the shopping districts. They tried to introduce Miles to ice cream…

“I know what ice cream is.” He grumbled but ate the entire cone anyways. 

After that, they introduced him to escalators inside the mall. But it seemed like Miles was already familiar with those as well.

“I know what an escalator is.” He crossed his arms, glaring at Hobie. “And that’s not how you use them!”

Hobie shook his head as he finished his quest of climbing up the accelerating steps. Miles had no clue what he was talking about…

In one last attempt, they introduced him to a street performer. One who juggled with a few needles on his tongue while he climbed up invisible stairs. The audience gave polite applause and Hobie threw in a few bills out of respect. 

Miles stared and pointed in horrified confusion. “I did not know someone could do that!”

Hobie accepted Pavitr’s high-five with a smug grin on his face.

Eventually, the group found themselves in a clothing store. After taking in the sight of Miles in a mix of all three of their clothes, they suggested he probably get some of his own and, despite how good Miles looked in his cropped top, Hobie agreed.

He stood in a corner, not sulking as Gwen assumed but keeping watch of his mates. Gwen and Pav shove item after item into Miles’s arms as the boy darts his eyes around in confusion.

“I don’t think this shirt is really… my style?” He confesses.

“You think so?” Pav lifts the shirt for him and Gwen to look over once more. There stare at the shirt for a bit… and then back at Miles.

“Nah.” Gwen decides and shoves the shirt back into his arms.

“Man…” He sighs and continues trailing behind the two. Hobie caves in at this point and decides to save the poor guy.

“Think he’s got more clothes than allowed in the dressin’ room.” He hovers over the group, picking up the shirt on top. The punk stared in disgust at the bright green cat with yellow sunglasses, posing under the words ‘check meow-t’... Was this was they were arguing over?

Gwen scoffs and snatches the shirt from his hands. “Like you care about the rules Mr. down-with-capitalism.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Hobie breathes, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or maybe we should let Miles fit himself, hm?”

Pav whined. “But that shirt would look so cute with these shorts!”

“One each!” Miles compromised, his face hiding behind a pile of clothes. “You each get one outfit for me to try on and then I pick out the rest. Deal?”

Gwen and Pav nodded and took all of their outfits back before getting into a heated whispering match over what would look best. Hobie took this time to really look over their new friend. It’s only been a short while since they took him but he seems to have taken a liking to them quickly. And maybe that liking isn’t all one-sided. Pavitr and Gwen were proof enough.

“Alright?” Hobie asked leaning down to match his height.

“Yeah,” Miles smiled lightly to himself, browsing through a couple of jerseys beside him. “More than alright. I don’t know where I'd be right now if you guys hadn’t found me…”

“Don’t mention it.” Hobie nudged him. 

“So this is your style?” he decides to change the subject, taking large steps around the rack of clothing Miles was currently rusting through. “I don’t think I’m surprised…”

“Well not everyone can pull off cool boots and spiky jackets,” Miles huffed, giving an aggressive push at one of the shirts on a hanger.

“Was a compliment,” Hobie held his hands up in defense, twirling around the rack one last time. “And you pull off the look just fine.”

“I can barely even fit into your crop top how would you know?”

“I’ve been told I’ve got an active imagination!” Hobie tapped the side of his head for show.

Miles huffed, finally picking a shirt up off the rack. “Man, you just love talking circles around me, don't you?”

Hobie grinned. “S’what I do best.” He shoved the outfit that he’d picked out into Miles’s hands. “Try this on will you?”

Miles stared in confusion. “What?”

“One fit each. Remember?”

____________________________________

Up at the checkout, Hobie's attention was split. He was half listening to Pav complain about Miles choosing Hobie's outfit over his, and half watching a bracelet dangling in front of him.

He’d been eyeing it from far away. Now, up close, Hobie thought the bracelet was too expensive-looking to be sold at a store like this. Though the price tag was still way too high, he found himself admiring the shimmering gold jewels scattered around its silver base. The charm practically sparkled between his fingers once more before he decided.

Gold was a nice color. It reminded him of something…

The cash register made a buzzing noise and the person behind it squeaked in fear. If Hobie looked beneath the panic in her eyes he could see the exhaustion. The ‘man’ on top seems to have gotten another poor undeveloped brain to do his bidding.

But enough about the truth. As much as Hobie wanted to rant about the downsides of working under a large company which more often times than not leads to wage manipulation- he knew his attention was needed elsewhere.

Instead, he focused on the cash-grabbing machine that was beeping uncontrollably. The light flickered on and off and a girl giggled nervously in front of it.

“Just give it a minute…” She said, looking Miles in his eyes while his hand held Hobie’s card which was still inside of the machine. His hand stuck itself to the numbers on the screen.

Hobie narrowed his eyes in confusion….

“No worries.” Miles rubbed his other hand along his shorts while his finger stayed on the pin pad almost purposefully. He smiled innocently. 

A bit too innocent. 

Most times, Hobie had a good read on people but most times didn’t mean often. And people didn’t tend to make electronics act up whenever they were in the room. Not like Miles.

“Sorry about that!” The capitalist puppet behind the counter faked a smile. “Our machines don’t usually do that. I promise!” The girl held her face in embarrassment while Hobie and his friends exited the store.

His suspicions doubled, and the bracelet in his pocket suddenly felt heavier.

Part 1

[mindyco]

ARC 2: 01

Review

A week passed, and they never once returned.

▼▼▼▼

The scent of baking pizza dough mingled with the acrid tang of tomato sauce as Y/N pressed her hands into the soft surface of the dough. Her motions were mechanical, almost lifeless, as she flattened the disk into a perfect circle. The heat from the ovens radiated against her back, and the sound of the bustling pizzeria barely registered in her mind.

"Order up!" her coworker called out, slapping another ticket on the counter beside her.

"Got it," she replied, her voice faint but steady. She reached for the shredded cheese without even glancing at the ticket. Her hands moved with a precision born of repetition, scattering toppings over the dough before sliding it into the blistering oven.

The cycle was unending. 

Prep, bake, box, repeat. 

The hours dragged on in a haze, her body moving on autopilot while her thoughts spiraled elsewhere.

Why haven't they come back? 

The question lingered in her mind, invasive and stubborn. She'd tried to push it aside, but every time there was a quiet moment it crept back, gnawing at her like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Did I do something wrong?

She replayed the night over and over in her head, dissecting every detail, every word. 

Was it something I said? 

Did I come off too strong? 

Maybe they didn't like the food... The thoughts swirled endlessly, a storm in her already overworked mind.

The oven timer beeped, jolting her out of her thoughts. She quickly slid the finished pizza out, boxed it up, and handed it to the waiting customer with a strained smile. "Thank you. Have a great night."

When the clock finally struck the end of her shift, relief didn't come. Instead, her next task loomed over her. As her coworkers left one by one, Y/N grabbed her bag and trudged toward the bakery. Her legs felt like lead, and each step seemed heavier than the last.

The bakery was no longer a comforting place. Its warmth and charm had been stripped away, replaced by piles of boxes and pure exhaustion. The air was cold and stale, and the faint smell of flour mixed with dust lingered in the corners.

She set her bag down and immediately got to work. There was no time to rest—no time to think. The bakery had to be emptied completely, the paperwork signed, the final pieces sold off. It was all happening so quickly that she barely had time to process it. 

Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. 

Processing meant feeling, and she wasn't sure she could handle the weight of it all.

As the week dragged on, the lack of sleep began to take its toll. Her days started before sunrise and ended long after midnight. She worked her shift at the pizzeria, then spent hours sorting through the bakery. 

Her body moved as if on autopilot. She couldn't remember how she got from one place to another. She'd arrive at the bakery after her shift, her mind foggy but her hands still working. She taped up boxes, carried them one by one to her apartment, and cleaned until her muscles screamed. 

The cycle was unrelenting, but she refused to let herself stop.

By the end of the week, her body felt like it was running on fumes. She barely ate, barely slept. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, and her chest felt heavy, as if the weight of the entire week had settled there. 

Each breath felt harder than the last, but she ignored it, brushing it off as stress.

Her coworker at the pizzeria had noticed her sluggishness earlier that day. "You okay, Y/N? You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine," she had replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

"Tired?" He raised an eyebrow. "You look like a zombie."

She shrugged it off, returning to the dough in front of her. "Don't worry. I'll sleep when this is all over."

----

As she packed the last box in the bakery late that night, her body finally began to betray her. She coughed, the sound rattling in her chest, and her knees wobbled slightly as she bent down to secure the box with tape. Sweat dampened her neck, and her vision blurred. She swayed slightly, her head pounding with a dull ache that refused to subside.

"Come on... just one more," she muttered to herself, her voice hoarse. Her hands shook as she pushed the box aside, leaning heavily against the counter for support. Her breaths came in uneven gasps, and her muscles screamed for rest.

The last box was packed, sitting lonely by the door. She stared at it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh, her legs giving out as she slumped to the floor against the wall. She sat there like a ragdoll, her head tilted back, chin lifted as her fevered skin pressed against the cool wall. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her body shivering despite the heat radiating from her skin.

The bakery was eerily silent, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. Her eyes drifted to the window, where the faintest glow of dawn began to break through the darkness.

The sight of the sunrise made her want to cry. 

Another day. 

She groaned softly, tilting her head back against the wall. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her skin flushed with fever as sweat beaded along her temple. Her jaw trembled as she fought back tears, her exhaustion finally catching up to her.

"I can't..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't do this anymore."

The bakery was empty now—emptier than it had ever been. The shelves were bare, the counters wiped clean, and yet, the weight of the space pressed down on her chest like a suffocating blanket.

As her eyes drifted shut, her thoughts turned to the four turtle brothers. Their bright voices, Mikey's infectious laughter, the warmth they had brought into her life, even if just for a day. 

She had hoped of seeing them again, hoping they would step through that back door like they had before.

But they hadn't come.

And now, the emptiness felt heavier than ever.

Author's Note •⩊•:

✦✦

Uh oh, cheerio!!! 

Seems like our little baby Y/N is sick . . . 

I sure hope nothing bad happens and a hot man won't have to save her AGAIN . . .  ( ಠ‿<)

✦✦

୨ TINY THEATRE ୧

*the turtles can't show up in front of her again because of Master Splinter's orders*

Y/N: Y u hate me ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·

Y/N: Did I do something wrong??? ༼☯﹏☯༽

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ

[deejadabbles]

Just a Foxy lil snippet

So, this will be part of a larger Commander Fox x Reader fic I've been plotting out. It will be a slow burn story, but this one particular scene from later in the series would not leave me alone! Figured I'd write it, and post it for you guys to enjoy (and also test engagement, see if anyone's interested).

Warnings for: cursing and suggestive themes (tis spicy themed) Minors DNI!!

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul

Fox was glad that, for once, he was rested enough to wake up before you. He also loved that he was in your bed this time, not curled up on your couch like a stray loth cat. Both circumstances allowed for this, allowed him the most stunning view he had ever seen. Your face was so peaceful, a kind of relaxed he had never quite seen on you before. Usually, your expression was that cool, blank slate that was required of your position. ...Or it was twisted into something terrifying because he pissed you off again.

There was a third of course, that subtle, delicate, yet somehow devastatingly beautiful smile you gave him when it was just the two of you (and he managed not to be an ass). He loved- adored that smile, but, there was something special about this, something innocently genuine and vulnerable that he wanted to appreciate. Something he wanted to hold forever.

Your lips were parted just a bit, and it was all he could do not to lean in and kiss you. Kiss you like he had the night before. Kiss you like you were the only thing he had ever thought about wanting.

Unfortunately, the spell was broken when a musical chime sounded from your bedside unit.

Kriff, even your alarm was beautiful and sweet. You stirred instantly. Reaching over and pressing the silent button, before rolling back towards him and lifting your eyelids in a flutter.

Then you smiled at him. And Fox felt himself come undone in a whole new way than the night before.

"Good morning," you whispered, and your hand found it's way to his cheek.

He sighed and melted into the touch, closing his eyes and mumbling his own greeting. Despite the loving moment, Fox couldn't help but to feel you were both on a timer now, the real world crawling up to the door to knock and ruin his perfect paradise.

He had fully intended to savor every second that remained like they were his last, until he heard you sigh.

"I should have set my alarm for earlier, so we could lay like this awhile longer."

"We have time," he mumbled, selfishly moving his body closer to yours, his skin aching to feel you again.

"I don't set my alarm with lounging time in mind," your voice was smaller than usual, and he saw the way you didn't meet his eyes, even when you lifted your head and kissed him.

It was almost ridiculous how instantly his body came alive for you. His hands started scrambling to tangle in your hair, but you were already pulling away. He grumbled when you muttered another apology, shifting towards the edge of the bed and away from him.

"I'm sorry, Fox, but there's a lot of work to do today," you said, tone more firm now as you slipped out of his reach and rose from the sheets.

Something with claws started kneading inside his chest. It was actually painful to watched you grab the dressing robe from the nightstand and cover your gorgeous body with it. He wanted to grab your wrist and drag you back to bed, sink his teeth and cock into you so hard and lovingly that you'd forget anything or anyone outside this room even existed.

But you had your own life to attend to, your own duties and responsibilities. He had to remind himself that they were duties and responsibilities that you had chosen. You worked for the Senator because you wanted to, not because it was forced upon you. Because you loved Amidala and believed in her goals. You were passionate and dedicated to your work by more than forced obligation, unlike him.

And, no matter how possessive he was of you, he had to respect that.

Respecting that was the least he owed you, after all you'd given him.

So, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to tear that robe off of you like the lead of a cheesy romance holo, he settled for reaching out and pulling your wrist to his lips, kissing the delicate skin there. He could feel your pulse quicken under his lips, and wondered if your own fantasies were stirring at the sight of him, naked under your sheets.

"I'm gonna have to learn to share you with Amidala, aren't I?" The question was rhetorical of course, and the bemused smirk you gave him said that you knew it was. He was thankful for that, the last thing he wanted was for you to think he was some possessive freak, no matter how close he came to being one.

"I can't promise you all the quality time in the world," you said, blunt but not unkind, as always, "but I can at least promise to keep up the time we've already notched out for each other."

He let his heavy sigh fan over your skin, relished the way goosebumps rose on your body in answer. "I guess I can live with that," he grumbled, again having to fight the urge to pull you against him and ravish you. He wanted the galaxy to implode in on itself, so long as it left the two of you together in this moment forever.

Kriffing hell, when had he gotten so melodramatic?

When he'd met you, he supposed, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[bleachbleachbleach]

9/15 - 9/21/24

I am still working in all the same Renji 11 scenes as last week, having finished none and studiously continued to avoid the 0.5 scene. The closing Renji+Rukia scene somehow now also includes more Kensei and Hisagi and Rose than I'd anticipated, which kind of!! makes me want to drop Renji off a cliff!!!

But I'm getting fairly adept at taking very un-meditative snatches of time and just working with that--like, set a timer, 10 minutes, go. I STILL WOULD LIKE LONGER BLOCKS OF TIME, DON'T GET ME WRONG. I'd also love not to work 7 days a week, but reality being what it is, training myself to write in these 10-minute sprints is the next-best-thing that I need to be able to do. I've been doing them for a bunch of random things (in an attempt to combat simply never doing them, ever) and ending my days with a bunch of 10-minute sprints, but usually they're things that are much less intensive/experiential than writing.

For context, I have a spreadsheet with 5 goal categories for the week (3 work, 2 personal). Within these, there are three achievement tiers--a bare minimum goal (usually defined by time spent), a realistic goal, and a reach goal. (Blue = time attempted but not met; green = achieved; yellow = no attempt.) Below these there's a life/chore/fun bank split into weekly/monthly/quarterly/semi-annual tasks, which is where the 10-minute sprints originated. So it's like, 10 minutes on scheduling! Meal planning! Banking! Vacuuming! Tidying! Dishes! Reading! Reading fanfic! Tumblr!

My writing goals for this week went like this:

The blue fills are successful 10ish-minute sprints that I probably wouldn't have bothered to try if I hadn't successfully practiced them easier things. Victories!! Even if technically that is a picture of me not meeting my minimum goal 4 out of 6 days, I still feel pretty good about that, and about how the writing is going, process-wise.

To facilitate the 10-minute writing sprints, I've also just kind of given up and am writing fanfic on my work computer now, lol. And while I've never really been an effective user of the multiple-desktops feature, I do think it helps get me quickly into fanfic mode. I'm a big fan of these random default trees I picked out for the wallpaper, because the perspective shift/aerial view really makes me feel like I've flown away from work and am now someplace distinctly separate (somewhere in the Forests of Rukongai):

idk guys I just really like these random default trees <3 I love feeling like opening my fanfic doc is like swooping down into them. 🥺🥺

My goal for next week is to keep my streak of daily 10-minute sprints minimum, and ideally actually meet my stated minimum goal every day, instead. There's a decent chance this will be possible because as far as I know I don't have any extraneous obligations beyond the usual, except for Thursday. Could I finish Renji 11? Let's goooooo!

[blackbird-brewster]

2, 4, 5, 12, 13, 30, 32, 38, 47, 57, 69, 83, 84

I will answer your ask here shortly! But I didn't want you to think I forgot to ask you ✌️❤️😘

[Send my Writer Asks] TY for so many number!! <3

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said ��fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Basically any and every fic with JJ in it is this exact thing. JJ is notorious for going off-script and just doing whatever the hell she wants. I have had to re-write entire fic outlines bc of this. She's a nuisance (affectionate).

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

I often look at the 4 chapters I wrote for an early season CM fic that's sorta like 'You've Got Mail' (it's a 2006 online dating fic) and lament that I've never finished it. I even *know* the reason why too, it's simply because the coding to do entire chapters in 'e-mail' form on AO3 would require me to build custom skins to make it look like emails and such (yea, I know I don't HAVE to make it look like that, but my brain says You Gotta) and god, I just really hate coding.

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

I currently have over *30* CM character/fanfic related playlists. You should check out this masterlist for all the links plus summaries of each playlist, or just give me a follow on Spotify

12. do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that? 

Sorry, what? I missed the question because I was staring out the window and procrastinating again. The answer -- YES, of course I do. I'm AudHD and I live in a house with three other people, a cat who's an asshole, and on a street where multiple houses are being built. 😭 I try my best to be at my desk at regular hours each week, usually about 10am-4pm M-F. And I close any windows/apps on my laptop that aren't my writing one and put my phone out of reach. Then I set the focus timer on for a designated time and try to write until it goes off. This helps TONS.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

When I wrote what was supposed to be a Emily/Rebecca hate-sex one-shot, I didn't think anyone would read it. Then, when I expanded it into what became 'Do What I Want (Over What's Right)' I was absolutely blown away by the great convos I had with readers in each chapter's comment section. I even met a new best buddy via that fic! (hiiii @swpf)

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - Dr Seuss

32. do characters influence your writing style?

Can do, sometimes. My style itself doesn't change all that much, I don't think? I mean, I can look at old fics and see how far I've come since first writing them, but that's less about the characters themself and more about me as a weird little guy.

38. how many stories do you work on at one time?

One. As mentioned above, I'm far too distractable to have multiple-WIP at one time. The exception to this rule is, sometimes, I'll crank out a one-shot while working on a longer project too. But 99% of the time, I only have one WIP going.

47. what story are you most proud of?

Forever and ever, Head Full of Doubt (Jemily, High School AU). That fic explores mental health, friendship, depression, and the pressures of being a teenager. It is my forever proudest achievement as a writer.

57. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were reading it?

While reading? Hm, this is gonna sound so petty, but I recently pulled up the fandom wiki to double check a continuity point in a fic. Not because I was judging the author, more because my brain was trying to figure out the timeline they were presenting.

69. how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel?

I have such a visceral imagination. I not only see my characters, but I definitely also feel their feels too as part of getting into their heads. When I write emotional scenes, I am usually sobbing myself. On the flip side, my partner knows when I'm writing smut bc my breath gets all soft and short 🫠

83. less is more or more is more?

Do whatever you want forever. Period. No rules, just do you!

84. said: overused or underused?

Again, do whatever you want forever. I use said/replied lots, but I also use more specific indicators to get tone across depending on the conversation and scene.

[fleckcmscott]

hey cm! i'm always impressed with how consistently you post new writing and was wondering: do you have a regular writing routine? also: any tips for writers block? 🩷

Hey, Fleckficgirl!

Thank you so much for your generosity and kind comment.

The timing of this ask is rather ironic, because getting words on the page has been incredibly difficult as of late. Much of my routine has tapered off this summer. My job's more stressful, personal matters are a challenge, my brain is bereft of ideas. Maybe I should blame the heat and humidity, too. 😂

The routine I've slipped away from (and am currently working back towards!) is writing something every day. When life is not busy being life, my goal is to write 500 words a day. However, I have to keep in mind that I will not always reach that word count - and that that's okay! A goal exists for me to strive for, to pick up the pen and get going.

(That 500 words isn't applicable to creating an outline, taking notes, or rereading drafts and editing. While important to creating a rich, well written story, those are different parts of the process.)

I also make sure to take a day off once a week. That's usually Saturday but it could be another, depending on what's happening.

Now, no one wants to strive all the time; that's discouraging. On the days I'm struggling, my depression flares up, or the nasty fear of failure called Writer's Block settles over me like a mildewed cape, I need a guaranteed win, so I set a goal I cannot fail. Write three sentences, set a timer for thirty minutes and write whatever you can, write 300 words.

If you're dealing with writer's block, I encourage you to try one of those goals, or to come up with your own.

When writing is a neverending difficulty that drives me to the point of despair, I take that as a sign I need a longer break. (The friends I whine to about it are also good at pointing that out. 💜)

Creating is an act of faith in the process. Inspiration is a series of elusive bursts. Writing is perspiration and work, work, work. If we don't plan breaks, our brains will force us to rest. So I plan two-four weeks off and make sure I set a date to return - even if the return is three sentences a day.

Here are some other writing tips I've posted:

1) Read a lot - but read critically. If a book doesn't work for you, ask yourself why. If you loved a story's pacing, take note of that structure. Read not just popular fiction, but the masterworks that have stood the test of time.

2) Self-doubt and fear are part of the package. While they’re painful, try to take comfort in the fact that every writer who isn’t deluded goes through them.

3) Be diligent about writing, but don’t be too hard on yourself if you only get a few words out during a session. That happens! 😃

Thanks so much for your ask! I hope this helps! 🤗

[suzieb-fit]

Saturday ends with abs.

Because I was walking, it was longer getting home from work, and no freewheeling, lol. When I'm on the bike, it's a very quick, easy ride home from that place. Downhill most of the way. Walking is obviously different, so I took that into account with how my time and insulin pump settings.

A good little routine. Definitely felt it, even after only 15 minutes!

Added to my walking between the two jobs and this mornings Nike workout, which was pretty intense, I'm satisfied I've done enough tossy.

No calorie breakdown, as that's my new version of a free Saturday.

And it's one I'm more than happy with.

I probably won't post tomorrow, as I'm taking that as my day off everything as usual. Apart from fasting. No more days off that. Only a 13hr one, though.

I easily got to today's 17hr mark. Home, abs, timer off and into my porridge! I usually cook it with the apple already in the bowl. But I added it fresh after cooking this time.

And best thing about today? I'm finished at the old job, new one starts Monday!

I reached my 17hr fast target without having to hang around.

[dravidssideblog]

"Why not?!"

"I'm not putting you in the fucking washing machine, I don't see why I need to explain that!"

"Well since you're refusing to hand-wash me-"

"I'm BUSY!"

"Then just put me in the washer!"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"I don't need to breathe and I can't feel pain. What's the worst that could happen?"

My roommate stares down at me a moment, then picks me up. I feel a tug on my hip; they're reading my tag. "Huh. 'Washer and dryer safe.'"

"Exactly, see? I was literally made for this, I'll be fine."

"Okay, fine." They press the 'delicate' setting, and the timer displays 30 minutes. "Are you sure about this? Because I'm not gonna wait around to pull you out if you change your mind."

"Yes, I'm sure."

They sigh and shake their head. "Alright."

They drop me into the machine on top of the rest of the load, meeting my gaze one last time. I give them a nod, and they shut the top, plunging me into darkness. The machine starts whirring and water begins filling it up.

"Last chance to change your mind," they say over the noise.

"Didn't you say you're busy? Go work, let me enjoy my bath in peace!"

"Alright then."

Just as I hear the door shut, the water reaches my feet. I lie down on top of the laundry, letting the water climb up my body, covering my faux fur, soaking into my stuffing, making me feel so much heavier. It feels so strange, being filled with more than just stuffing. The machine fills all the way up, and I float to the top along with the clothes.

Then, the water stops, and the movement starts. That pillar in the center, the agitator, twists back and forth, sloshing around the water. The sloshing water pushes me around, rocks me back and forth, bobs me up and down. Despite the agitator's rapid twisting, the sloshing isn't too intense; it reminds me of a bumpy car ride, except lying on layers of floating clothes provides plenty of cushioning. And of course being shaken around is a lot easier without any bones or organs inside me.

Foamy bubbles rise to the surface of the water, splashing my face and soaking into my stuffing. I'm glad my roommate didn't skip the detergent. It covers my body, working out the dirt and dust, making me all fresh and clean. I wish I could say I felt any of that, but all I could really feel were the bubbles sticking to my fur. Lots of bubbles. The longer it goes on the more foamy the water gets, each splash of water leaving more foam on me than it rinses away.

It goes on like that for minutes as I'm tossed about the sloshing water, thoroughly and completely soaked and foamed. In the darkness, it's easy to lose myself in the disorienting sloshing, to let the water shove me around... Until finally the machine goes still. A moment of rest, letting my senses recalibrate.

Then, slowly, the machine begins to turn. It's slight at first, like a carousel ride, but it quickly picks up speed. The water, the laundry, and myself are pushed toward the walls of the drum. The speed holds steady for a while, only gradually speeding up as the water drains out the sides. But it keeps speeding up, pushing us harder, until I can't even push myself away. Then it gets faster. And then even faster.

You know, the phrase "900 RPM" doesn't really mean anything. "Oh yeah, it spins real fast," it's easy to just abstract it away. It's a lot less easy when you're experiencing it. When the rotations stop being noticeable, my sense of balance completely destroyed. It just becomes a pressure, forcing me against a wet sweater that itself is pressed flat against the wall. The rotation drags me along, an endless rightward pull stronger than anything I've ever experienced through either flesh or fabric.

My senses are completely overwhelmed by the force of the spin. I'm glad I don't have a brain, because if I did, it surely would've burst by now. I can't move an inch anymore, all I can do is submit myself to the almighty strength of the spin.

Then it's over. The machine's whirring goes silent, and far too quickly, it slows to a stop. When it finally comes to rest, I fall from my place pressed against the sweater, and the sweater falls down on top of me.

There's a new sound. Running water. It's filling up again. After how thoroughly my mind was turned into a smoothie, I'm not eager to move; even my old fear of drowning fails to stir me. In fact, finding myself sandwiched between the pants underneath me and the sweater atop me, I think this is the perfect position. And so as the water claims my face, I tell myself to relax, to remember that I don't need to breathe, to let the water seep into my body once more.

I'm fully submerged now, floating in a sea of cloth. I feel at home here, one textile among many. Once I manage to hush my urge to breathe, I feel at peace, comfortable in the water and surrounded by softness...

The agitator starts up again, sloshing the water about, and me with it. I bump into clothes as everything gets shaken up and mixed around. It's like a gentle version of what I imagine a mosh pit to be, softness against softness, driven by water instead of music. The messy flow of water pushes against my body and twists me around. I lose myself in the motion once more, letting shirt sleeves drag against me and underwear snag on my head. It's a good thing everything got cleaned before I was buried.

The minutes pass, and the sloshing comes to a stop. I spend another moment in the peaceful sea of cloth before the spinning begins. It pushes us to the walls, speeding up and increasing the pressure. I'm sandwiched between clothes once again. The force presses the clothes against me, squishing me from both sides.

Once the spin gets fast enough I once again lose my senses. It's just force now, squishing and pulling and totally overwhelming me. I never thought I could feel so powerless just by being spun around, but I'm completely stuck, immobile, crushed under an avalanche of cloth that's just as helpless as me. The power of it feels so all-consuming that it becomes my entire world...

For a few minutes.

Then the noise stops, the machine spins down, gravity takes hold of me once again. I hear a muffled beeping through my tomb of fabric. Staying limp, I rest awhile, letting my senses recover once again...

There's noise. Shifting in the cloth. Then something grabs my leg, and I'm pulled, hissing, into the blinding light.

"Hey, don't you hiss at me. Or did you WANT to be stuck in that damp dark box?"

"Yeah, of course I did," is what I try to say. Unfortunately after being sloshed, spun, and soaked for 30 minutes, my ability to speak is more like "hahhh, afffaahh maa na..."

They sigh and flip me around. I guess I was upside-down. They sigh and hug me, my damp body making a wet squish sound. "You dumb cat..."

I'm happy to lie limp in their arms awhile, doing nothing but blinking my eyes as they adjust to the light. When I can finally feel which way is down, I try talking again. "yuhhh... yo- you know, you'd think that without any blood or stuff then you can't get dizzy! but the truth is, you can get soooooo much dizzier without passing out..."

"Are you okay, kitten?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I... I'm okay. Can I go in the dryer now?"

"The- Have you STILL not learned your lesson!?"

"Yeah, I learned that the washer is really fun! But being damp isn't, so... Dryer?"

"You stupid- Yeah, fine, dryer." They set me down and start loading the wet laundry into the dryer. "Didn't think you were such a masochist..."

"Can't be a masochist if you can't feel pain!"

"On the contrary, I think you're managing humanly-impossible levels of masochism."

"Just one more perk to add to the list, then."

They finish tossing in the clothes and turn back to me. "Are you sure? It's gonna be hot in there you know."

"I'm dryer-safe and can't feel pain, I'll be fine."

They sigh and pick me up. "Why'd I even ask..."

"I appreciate the concern!" I say as they toss me into the dryer.

They shut the door, beep some buttons, and the dryer gets right to spinning. It's slower than the washer. Much slower. Instead of the spin forcing me against the walls of the drum, I tumble along at the bottom. The rest of the laundry is tumbling with me, clothes falling on top of me as I fall onto other clothes. It's a mess, everything moving about and crashing into each other, even more intense than the agitator's sloshing. And the weight from the water soaking everything adds to the impacts.

When there's no clothes to cushion my tumble, I fall right onto the hard dryer drum. Fortunately, every impact is a soft impact when you're a plushie, so it's no biggie. Especially when I'm smooshed under a pile of clothes right after. Crash after crash, fabric against stuffing, nonstop impacts, even though it's slower it feels so much more active than the washer's spin! And I think I've had enough of mind-melting speed for one day.

It doesn't take long before I really start to feel the heat. It goes from warm to hot to REALLY hot, like a sauna for textiles. The wet, heavy impacts of the clothes give way to hot slaps and whaps. 130°F if I remember correctly, WAY hotter than should feel comfortable. But while I used to hate heat, turns out it's just that flesh is super picky about temperature. Now heat is just another sensation. And I gotta say, I'm really enjoying this new level of warmth~

The rollercoaster ride goes on and on, much longer than any of the washer's many spin or slosh cycles. I get used to the intensity, the tumbling and tossing and crashing. After all the practice at going with the flow today, the endless tumble of the dryer is a worthy finale.

I just relax and stop being a person. Stop moving, stop thinking, let go of all my old instincts. I play the role of an inanimate toy; limp, unbothered, letting whatever happens happen. But the one thing I keep doing is feeling, experiencing, taking each soft impact, each moment of pressure, all the overwhelming warmth, and enjoying every second of it. I zone out, my mind filled with nothing but ceaseless sensations...

...

... When my thoughts return, I find myself buried in a heap of powerful warmth. I'd always loved piles of warm laundry, fresh out of the dryer. Now I AM the warm laundry. And it feels incredible...

Something pulls away my warmth, and I whine.

"Hey hey, you okay?"

"give it baaaack..."

"What?"

"It's warm, give it back... and shut the door, you're letting the cold air in..."

A sigh. "Yup, you're fine." The heap of warmth dumps back on top of me, and the dryer door slams shut. I've had an intense, exhausting day of bathing. Time for a much-deserved nap...

[alolanroy]

2024 Watch Thread Part 4

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/alolanroy/747704931576889344/2024-watch-thread-part-3?source=share

Ultraman Rising: On my second watch I kept a closer eye on it. The detail and moments of non-diegesis pass by in a blink, but your brain picks up on the emotions it wants you to experience. This movie has a certain painterly feel and strong emotional core the way Pixar used to. It uses whatever elements from Ultraman feel relevant to the story being told and the end result is totally delightful. I'm glad Ultraman got a spider-verse. 9/10

Overman King Gainer: Charming as hell, but I can't help but feel it never reached its full potential. I appreciate that it never really exposits, but I can't help but feel like a few clearer explanations or stakes might have made me more invested. There are a few episodes of true Tomino-isms (both of his more silly and serious style). The start and end are charming, but I can't help but wish it picked up the pace a little. Great character design, some fun dialogue and cute animation. 7/10

Game Changer Season 6: I think I've neglected to add Dropout series to this list prior to this...oops. Some real all timers this season. Personal favorites are Bingo and Pencils Down. The Ratfish didn't blow me away, but I still appreciate parodying more contemporary game show formats. 8/10

Power Dolls: I have no context for this series other than attempting the first level of the original game. I was surprised to see that the first episode attempts to adapt that level. The issue is that there doesn't seem to be much to work with here. The thin melodrama makes these gorgeous women seem skin-deep. Nothing groundbreaking here as far as OVAs go. 5/10

Doctor Who Series 14: Not all the episodes were created equally in my eyes, but overall these were a lot of fun. And that's what I'm glad the series has again: Fun. The lust for life is infectious. I'd be fine with more contained (and budgeted) adventures in subsequent seasons (with longer episode counts). All the culture warriors out there campaigning about it got what they deserve. I'm hardly suprised the guy who used to prance around with celery printed to a rainbow jacket is getting fruity. But it is a modern Disney move to take credit of an on-screen gay kiss 20 years late. I do think these Chaos gods felt a little...manageable in terms of how quickly they were dispatched through. 7/10

Shark Side of the Moon: It starts out strong with a sequence in the soviet union right out of a fallout game, but utterly dissolves into what you should expect form an Asylum movie. Baffling that the CGI shark monsters got so ugly. I wonder if it was made by someone else? Who was that woman with a terrible face-lift who just ollied out of the movie? -4/10

Halo Nightfall: The only thing more laughable than the CGI Elite walking around like bigfoot is that 343i thought this was enough to set up Locke as a Master Chief killer. -3/10

Outlander (2008): Society just wasn't ready for this movie. I looked at contemporary reviews in horror. Maybe it gave a bad impression in the first few minutes, but this movie gets better the longer it goes on. The production values and talent on display elevate such a shlocky premise. My watch group was hooting and hollering. 8.5/10

Gunparade March: Sauceless. I dropped it after the 3 episode rule and scrubbed a few episodes after that. As someone who doesn't throw in for slice of life, this had nothing for me. 2/10

Overlord: For what is ultimately a bunch of guys running around a house in tactical gear...pretty fun. 5/10

Kamen Rider Gotchard: Now that the first images of the next rider are out, I think I can safely say that I dropped this. There was a bit of a spark at the beginning, but you could really feel the show get jerked around by bad toy sales and several course corrections. It never felt like it had a direction or anything more compelling than a few sweet two-parters that never returned. Ultimately this show is a result of the identity crisis of trying to sell blind bags for trading cards with no card game and bending over backwards to not normalize that this market has mostly become gambling. 5/10

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D S1: Coming back to this in the new era of bad Disney+ Marvel shows is like drinking cool water after a long day in the sun. If you can ignore the Wheden-ass dialogue, the pacing and scripting of the show's arcs is iron-clad. Major joints for letting continuity with the MCU annihilate the premise of the show and taking it in stride. 7.5/10

Megaman X Dive Offline:

Weaknesses of a gatcha game: Irritating characters and no real story, 3D graphics meant for older smartphones, overreliance on timers, loads of hard to navigate menus, progression systems that don't make sense unless you've played since the start.

Surely, the cool characters and tight gameplay of Megaman X will transfer over to ... oh, they seem to have almost no gameplay. It's an Isekai?

Just look up a YouTube video of all the units. You'll have a better time than I did. Instant Steam return. 0/10

Destiny 2 The Final Shape: While the story isn't good, the way it is conveyed is. Lots of watching people talk about emotion beats the player is already aware of isn't exactly compelling. Neither is a campaign which the player isn't advancing with standard destiny gameplay. I can think of 5 strikes with better narrative momentum off the top of my head. The environment is cool, and I like the witness's presence, though they didn't do much antagonizing for an antagonist. Any sense of momentum was killed by the Cayde and Crow Screeb adventure which is required before the final battle. Was the final battle amazing? Yes. Did it make me realize this might be the first good campaign ending in like 5 years? Yes. I don't think it really gave me the catharsis I was hoping for after 10 years of addiction. 5/10

The Screaming Skull: I wonder if anyone was actually scared by this in 1959. The only screaming we did was pretending to be scared and then breaking into hysterical laughter for the first half. Then we just got bored. -4/10

Versus: Cool dudes doing gunkata in an abandoned warehouse? Rad. Cool dudes doing gunkata in a forest...Eh. 5/10

Return to Treasure Island 1988: Points for good cartooning. Docked points for not having much of a throughline to hang them on. It gets old real quick. -4/10

Agents of Sheild S2: I wasn't a fan of the tone shift this season. The overreliance on suspicion, infighting and vaguing about loyalty got really old in the second half, especially as the successive overreactions strained credulity. It hit a point where I stopped liking most of the cast. Usually this is a death knell for me, but it stuck the landing. As usual Kyle Maclachlan steals the show. 6/10

Space Jam 2: A few Looney Tunes laughs can't balance out the thick malaise of committee brand synergy. I can't tell if the anti-executive/AI/crossover story is trying to say something considering how hard the movie bends over backwards to POINT AT BRAND. The acting was also noticeably bad. Like late 2010s Disney channel bad. -6/10

The Super Master AKA Zombie Rivals: While ostensibly a recut of Zombie Vs Ninja, it makes up for the loss of hilariously baffling inter-asian racism with cutting in random white people. It feels closer to anything Kung-Pow was deriving from, while also a Rick and Morty interdimensional cable gag. I think we died every time the announcer says ZODIAC AMERICA THE SUPER MASTER. -7.5/10

Fullmetal Alchemist 2017: On a second watching, the wigs are worse and the decisionmaking is even more confusing. 4/10

The Green Goblin's Last Stand: They...kinda ate with this one. I'm kinda at a loss if I should rate this based off of the moments it is surprisingly effective or the general silly factor... +6 or -7/10

Star Trek Prodigy S2-1: I'm breaking these up because I can tell this was intended to not come out all at once - First half was kinda bad. I like the strong mystery and time travel problem they have to solve, and I think they succeed better than the seasons of STD or SNW, but the fact that these children are never not morons brings it down. In S1 it was dramatic irony when the abused runaways didn't trust Star Fleet and led to miscommunication. Now it's just annoying. It also broke my TV. 4/10

Star Trek Prodigy S2-1: I felt whimsey when Chakotay taught the kids how levers worked and started sailing the protostar with stick and rudder. It felt earnest and explorative. The stakes and battles felt weighty and the technobabble was consistent. WESLEY IS BACK AND IT RULES??? However, I can't help but feel lousy when the series ends with 1000 Pearl Harbors and a hard end to Star Fleet's golden age. I went to sleep pissed off that Picard managed to somehow curb-stomp a series of years after it ended. Are we going to have to see Boimler mope after Star Fleet makes space adventures against policy? 7/10 -> 4/10 if you factor in the ending. It has never been more Joever.

Skyrim mod - Nebarra: As fun as the concept is, the quests were utterly broken for me. I had to force a lot to happen with console and it really took me out of it. 6/10

Agents of Shield S3: It's funny how Disney kept patting itself on the back so loudly over an unnamed side character implying a dead gay partner in Endgame when ABC had an openly gay latino recurring character who had some really fun moments back in like 2016. The final lap was good, but the serialization is stretching thin, but not as badly as last season.

Agents of Shield S4:

Arc 1: Ghost rider is so fucking cool. I would've been all for a version of this show where disparate characters from the marvel comics just show up like this. Amazing how well the CG holds up. Easily better than the modern movies

Arc 2: I now remember why my family dropped the show at this point. It goes on for way too long, and it feels like it takes place in only two locations

Arc 3: Fun in concept, but I can't help but feel this is a really backwards way to do a maybe 3 episode mirror universe arc.

Overall I'm glad I watched it, but I can feel the final shift to full serialization 6/10

Agents of Shield S5: This is just a different show, and I am realized I was completely checked out a few episodes in. 3/10

Iron Sky: I was expecting to laugh a lot more, this type of zany nonsense is usually way up my alley. I think it could've pushed a little harder and tightened up the digression once the movie gets back to earth. The biggest laugh of the evening was the gag with the bottle of de-albinizer. -7/10

Groom Lake: I was sold on William Shatner Tokusatsu. The movie works well as a comedy of errors as the protagonists have just the most ridiculously bad vacation. I thought for a moment it might have been cooking with the rattlesnake at the beginning perhaps setting up a parallel with extra terrestrial life, but I'm not sure I trust the movie to take thematic swings like that. If anything, it felt like watching someone play a Bathesda style RPG or a Quantic Dream game with some weird characters and strange moral choices. -6/10

Ghostbusters: On rewatch, I see why this movie ends up appealing to a lot of right wingers in their 40s-50s...the small business angle, hating the EPA. My beloved groaned so loudly at the kiss at the end. Despite everything, it is still a classic. 7/10

[writermuses]

Mason/Nora #21

From Ask Meme Eight

You have chosen twenty-one for Nora and Mason:

There was a lot Nora loved about her life. As an EMT she felt like she was doing great things in the world, helping other people and comforting their families in times of great need. As a girlfriend she thought she was attentive and loving, always there whenever Mason needed her and quick to do little things to make his life easier. Both of their jobs were taxing, but his could take much longer than her shifts at the station. She'd come home and showered off the day, slipping into a strapless sundress with nothing underneath, something easy to slip into pajamas after dinner. It was Cara's fault she was never able to sit around in jammies all day, but it worked out well enough now that most of her nightwear wasn't safe for making dinner.

With a timer set on the oven, the kitchen cleaned, and a while before she expected Mason to get home, the blonde laid down on the couch, pulling up a book on her phone. Minutes later she was asleep, turning onto her side and then her back again until the nap was deep, dreaming sleep. The action causing the dress to shimmy down her slight curves, bunching at the waist. It was quite the view for her boyfriend the moment he walked in the door. As always, he came up to her to kiss her, undoubtedly to tell her he missed her. Their love had been nothing if not instant and intense. Instead his kiss wasn't reciprocated beyond as sleepy smile and happy sigh.

Mason's fingers brushed her thigh to try to wake her up, instead they parted for him. Drinking in the sight of her pink nipples, puckered from the cool air that had come in with him only spurred him on further. His fingers massaged her inner thigh, moving higher, slowly waking her up with gentle touches. A needy whisper of his name passed Nora's lips as her legs slipped over either edge of the chaise, fully opening herself to him. There had been playful morning wake ups between the two of them and he squeezed her breast in his left hand, thumb brushing her nipple with his thumb. The touch made her whimper a little louder and he knew she'd be up soon enough. Mason knew exactly how to draw her out, bringing his right hand to her sex and gently drawing circled on her clit.

Nora's pale blue eyes shot open as his name was choked in a gasp on her lips. Immediately she was blushing and then smiling, "You're home!" She reached up, cupping his cheek as she bit her bottom lip. "Home and spoiling me. I'm supposed to be taking care of—" Mason slipped two fingers into her dripping sex and her eyes rolled back as she groaned out a blissful 'yes', rocking into his hand. His palm rubbed against her clit as he pumped his curled fingers in and out at a steady, unrelenting pace that had her writhing. She reached down, grabbing his wrist, but he didn't relent, "Please, please! Too much, Masey." Whimpers melted together, her body taut around his fingers. "I can't." You can, just ask.

"Please, let me—" Before she could continue to speak he stopped caressing her breasts, wrapping his lips around her nipple, sucking and nipping. Everything fell away as she came hard and fast, seeing stars as her eyes closed. Her pussy milked his fingers as she screamed in pleasure, nails digging little crescents into his skin as she came selfishly and without permission, hard and fast just like his fingers had played her. In some form of apology she brought his fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean with her eyes on him. Nora kissed his fingertips in a final apology. "I made dinner." Nora bit into her bottom lip, a little nervous giggle passing her lip as her chest still rose and fell with the buzzing excitement of her arousal. "But it won't be ready for a little while..."