#Plus I love the contrast of being a fast burn and a slow burn all in one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sothischickshe · 2 years ago

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OMG did you finally watch Derry Girls???!! 😱😱😍😍😭😭👀👀💖💖🙈🙈💜💜💞💞💕💕

What did you think? Did you love it? Did you??? Tell me EVERYTHING 😘😘😘😘

Hey sweetie! I hope you're doing well 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

& yes, I did finally watch derry girls!

I did end up loving it actually, though it was a bit of a slow burn for me! I warmed fast to the characters/tone/setting/comedic style etc, but it felt like the (earlier) eps had a habit of ending just as they were getting interesting??? Idk, maybe it's partly personal preference or expectations, but they often felt v cliffhangery, only without being picked up ever again??

Classic example would be the first ep where everyone's accusing the girls of killing the old nun, which just kinda ends & I don't think that's ever mentioned subsequently? see also: stowaway jumps into the next car's boot WITH the tent James has been put in charge of in hand, or the hash scones are about to be eaten by the whole family (an extremely egregious example to me haha, you can't tease an everybody must get stoned conclusion and not demonstrate it! 😢), or even Erin writing 'parents' on the board a smile is shared...run credits.

I don't even like plot ha, and I'm def into it just meandering along in the bg while the focus is on the characters, & maybe these endings were supposed to emphasise that vibe, but I don't think it quite worked for me. Contrast with say the ending of the take that concert ep which feels like an ep ending!! <3

I do think the eps mightve benefited from being a little longer (or perhaps the writing mightve benefited from knowing how to write to that length ♻️) generally, & the s1 finale in particular was kinda dampened for me bc I don't think the resolution to the clare-Erin fight feels entirely earned? I totally respect the show choosing to not make Clare's sexuality a source of dramz (& the fact that it won't be amongst their milieu is kinda foreshadowed by everyone's disappointment @ everyone else re their supposed homophobia twds James), but I think this ep needed a liiiiiiil more space for the topic considering how dismissive erin is to clare immediately. (plus, doesn't erin kinda out clare to others eg Mary in discussing this...?)

I feel like the writing got a lot more intricate as the show went on tho! 🤩 eg I remember being struck by the haunt-y ep where James gets hit by the van & clare panics at all the plant pots & throws a rock through the window -- which seem like classic highjinks... And they are, but also they're respectively: a reason the girls are frazzled so end up inadvertently breaking into the wrong place, & a sign they're at the wrong house (the instruction to find the key under 'the' plant pot initially seeming humorous, but actually being a well hidden Reveal). Or ciaran assuming Sarah's broken it off with him to become a nun in the hallowe'en ep?? Impeccable!! Or how the storylines in the train ep (backpacks switcheroo; Mary and sarah running into an acquaintance they can't place) neatly dovetail. The third season really impressed me overall, and particularly that final lengthy special!!!

So I do think my experience of watching this show is strong evidence for my theory that waiting for the whole thing to be out and watching all in one go can be the best way!! Like yes you do miss out on the live fandom screeching experience & can easily run the risk of being spoiled but I got to watch the writing improve in this compressed fashion!! Plus there were certain things where I was reserving judgement to see how they were handled going fwds, and s3 (so good!!) really delivered! Eg clare getting a love interest, michelle/'s family backstory, some discussion from Clare's parents re her sexuality, the girls developing better music taste lol, a bit more interrogation of Mary & gerry's relationship.

As u know I'm a bit of a hard sell on media/stories abt young ppl (to start with there's way too much!), but I really like the tone & setting of the show -- the sort of black comedy vibe, the 90s nostalgia -- and def enjoyed how much the grown ups were present too!! The performance of Tommy tiernan as gerry in particular really stood out to me, he didn't always get many lines, and often the ones he had were quite clipped, but the acting gave it a lot of depth. Plus I love that the mums got their own flashback ep!

I think the erin/James romance was foreshadowed really well + had the exact right amount of focus (ie not a huge amount) + was resolved exactly the right amount (ie fairly implied but open ended); he was an aspiring filmmaker she was an aspiring writer can I make it any more obvious should be more of a trope too sffgddfg. I feel like a lot of shows abt teenagers are either aggressively puritanical abt sex or substances or w/e, or lean hard the other way and instead try to glam up & sexualise boring children, and this did neither! The fact that it didn't focus almost exclusively on romantic pining and/or relationships or get into the partner shuffle game was really refreshing for a ~teen show, & I love that the focus stayed on the group/dynamic.

Other thoughts: Sister George Michael extremely iconic obvi! I really enjoyed James as a device (ppl needing to explain the ~setting to him), I think more shows should do that (espec in place of bloody voiceovers, way too many of those these days, so I loved the lampshading of that trope too); his deployment in the funeral ep (english ppl vs acknowledging the concept of death) really sung for me! And I lovvvve how uncle colm was used (espec in s3)!! I generally really like how Sarah & orla were portrayed/treated by the show also. And the music was done v well -- both in terms of songs chosen and how they were used! Some very iconic guest stars too, although omg i didn't even recognise ardal o'hanlon which is WILD given I slogged through a fair amount of my hero for him back in the day 😅

Anyhow yes I did love it, excellent rec, and I think it would be fun to rewatch. I'd be curious to hear/read more abt the writing actually, and particularly re when character details were decided (eg Michelle's brother backstory) cos stuff generally did seem to hang together well overall 😊

....ok, that enough thoughts for ya? 😆

#Derry girls #TV #Is “the eps are too short” a barely more sophisticated version of “the seasons are too short”?....mayhaps! 😅🤷🏼‍♀️#But I do feel like the writing got noticeably better as the show went on... Which isn't strange tbf!#Something

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worstloki · 4 years ago

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Top Forty Thor-Being-Thor Moments from Thor 1

just absolute dumb*ssery that this 7yr old kid’s life goal is to “hunt down the monsters and slay them all”. I’ll go easy on him here and let the Thor/Loki expressions do the talking because of “...just like you did Father” but seriously can his hands even fit around a sword handle??? this kid isn’t even punching the air right??? if there was a sword in his hand he would’ve cut his head with the way he’s moving???? pure tiny-himbo energy here just look at that >:o face he’s making. contrasts very nicely with Loki’s ‘,:|. 10/10. such a baby idiot.

“the jotuns must pay for what they have done! they broke into the weapons vault! if the frost giants had stolen even one of these relics!” thor. thor please. can you even name one of these relics. thor. hey thor. thor. shut up. “well, what would you do about this?” odin asks him. “march into jotunheim! like you once did! break their spirits! so they’ll never try anything like this again!” wow okay so we’ve fast-forwarded by like a thousand years and thor is still going on about genocide. huh. that’s funny, i thought loki was the genocidal one. hmm. i also just realized that the loki exclusive clip gives loki the same hairstyle thor has here so do what you will with that information.

0/10. horrible. terrible. i dont care how angy thor is about not getting to kill some jotuns or become king today this very instant, that is a tremendous waste of food. an absolute fool. how can he just remorselessly throw the bread to the floor. if loki stabbed him when he was 7 he would deserve it for this table flip alone. what a privileged white *ssh*le.

loki came skulking around a corner and suggested not to go to jotunheim and not only did thor not suspect anything but he also then went on to decide to go to jotunheim. 10/10 himbo material.

if tumblr didn’t have a picture limit i would put every instance of thor smiling in this list because look at that stupid smile. he’s such an idiot. 11/10. this is the thor content i’m here for.

“I have no plans to die today” thor says with the stupidest open-mouthed smirking smile ever captured on film. right after he also told heimdall not to tell anyone they’re gone. he’s literally planned to strand them on jotunheim. thor’s grand plan was to strange themselves on jotunheim and also start a fight. i repeat: thor’s plan was to successfully slay all the frost giants and not need to return until they’re all gone. what an absolute d*mb*ss. this is getting ridiculous. this was originally a top-ten-thor moments list but i’m not even twenty minutes in so i’ll have to extend the list. thor. thor are you listening? thor, you’re such an idiot.

“HOW DID YOUR PEOPLE GET INTO ASGARD?!” thor you sweet sweet summer idiot, please, i am beggin,g you,, learn to rea,d , a room,, literally everyone else who came with you is regretting it, there is complete silence and only the rumble of the opposing king is meeting your “I AM THOR, SON OF ODIN”s, please, please take some notes from Loki, or, you know, literally anyone else in the room, since everyone is asking you to get out of this realm while you still can,

thor’s stupid smile makes an appearance after he gets called a princess and decides to fight a whole realm over it. you know what? thor is a princess. he’s the prettiest princess in all the lands. what’s thor gonna do about it? is he going to fight me too? I hope he does the stupid grin first. minus 15 points for the sexism. thor is a complete and utter sadistic fool who needs to get a hobby. seriously, he’s 1500 years old and still going on and on about slaying all the frost giants. boi, i hate to break it to you, but your dad is not the best or only example of greatness out there. i don’t think your dad even qualifies as an example of that.

“THEN. GO!” 🥰 ahh yes, just thor thingz 🥰🥰 like when one friend has had his arm burnt 🥰 and another friend has been impaled and needs medical attention, 🥰🥰 and all the rest of your friends are yelling for you, 🥰 and your brother is telling you they must go, 🥰 and you decide to buy everyone time by laughing maniacally and killing more frosties because you care for them and dont find joy in destruction like a loon 🥰🥰🥰

THIS is the iconic Thor moment that makes my day whenever I think about it. Just Thor, an absolute bumbering 6′6′’ giant boodlusting dummy sees Odin and just decides to yell “FATHAA!! WE’LL FINISH THEM TOGETHAAA!” as if the last thing Odin told him wasn’t “no, thor, we’re not going to do anything to the frost giants, do not go after them and try to kill them all.” 11/10 d*mb*assery right here folks, I couldn’t ask for Thor to be more of a fool. This is PEAK Thor energy. Look at that face. I feel like Thor spends half this movie with his nostrils flared. I love it.

okay i gotta give thor credit for rightfully calling odin “an old man and a fool” but also there was not even 1 frame of the scene where Thor had a decent face so now all i see is >:O >:| >:o >:[ when i watch that scene. yelling at odin was great, not yelling at odin after he HUAERGHed at loki was less great, but to be fair it’s thor and he is the definition of Peak D*mb*ss.

thor literally GROWLS and starts yelling “HAMMAA?? HAMMER??” over and over. He was hit by a van, he fainted, he woke up and started growling. I don’t know what else there is to say about this.

“you dare threaten me? puny human?”. so. uhh. basically. Thor knew she was threatening him? He KNEW she had a weapon? instead he made a face and started yelling as he tried to walk his way closer????? thor you complete and utter dum dum. you frickin hairball-for-brains. im not even surprised darcy tasered him. with that kind of face, i’d taser him too.

when you wake up in an unknown place to a person smiling at you without a stupid smile, the first step is always to attack first and ask questions later 😌😌😌 (but seriously thor you imbecile why didn’t you ask where you were instead of throwing multiple people around the room and getting your butt needled. you clueless buffoon. you’ll remain a clueless buffoon if you don’t listen to anyone.)

just a quick recap but thor was knocked unconscious by a van and these people kidnapped him aboard and the next scene we see him in he’s checking himself out in mirror after presumably changing right there in the open?????? these are the things that make thor thor. any other character and i’d question it so much, but this is thor, and i truly believe this is in-character for him. just change in the open because why not? thor is a beefcake and that’s his only redeeming quality and he knows it. 10/10 thor moment.

I am now convinced that Thor saw Jane and “5k van-hitter to lover slow-burn height-difference himbo-scientist trope” flashed through his mind.

“but no more smashing!” Jane says, and then Thor proceeds to check her out and smile unlike an idiot and like a douche. was this his version of flirting???? i’m not one to decide, but yes, yes it was. He threw a cup to the ground and broke it, and she’s getting mad at him and berating him about it, and he’s liking it. y’all i’m sorry to break it to you like this, but thor has a canon fetish. i am so, so sorry.

im DYING. THAT ISN’T EVEN A KISS, HIS MOUTH IS OPEN. he SMUSHES his mouth around her knuckle???? WHY. I can’t keep noticing things like this. send help. please. Jane’s response makes so much more sense now; she’s laughs for a solid 3 seconds and shakes her head and is like “uhh, thank you? ahaha,” and then she keeps looking back longingly when walking away. they are doing this in PLAIN sight of EVERYONE. Darcy and Erik are standing RIGHT THERE, and Thor is doing weird things to her with his mouth. I’m out. I am done here. goodbye.

return of the stupid smile AND the douche smile in quick succession through the entire trip. their entire dialogue is peppered with innuendo. “I’ve never done anything like this before. have you ever done anything like this before?” “many times, but you are brave to do it.” “I have nothing else to lose.” “ah but you are clever, far more clever than anyone else on this realm.” “realm? rEaLm?” “you think me strange?” “yes” “good strange or bad strange?” “I haven’t decided yet.” I AM DYING OVER THIS. plus, we get Return Of The Himbo with Jane asking after Einstein Rosen bridges and Thor is like “uh, actually, more like a rainbow bridge 😜🤪” i feel so sorry for jane here, didn’t know how much of a d*mb*ss Thor was when signing up for this van-trip and knuckle-sucking 😭😭😭 i also no longer have questions about how the trip that SHOULD HAVE BEEN A HALF-HOUR ONE turned into one that LASTED TILL THE SUN WENT FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE SKY TO SETTING by the time they arrived. I have no questions. please. I don’t want to know what they were doing in that van. please no. don’t make me think about it.

thor’s plan had 3 steps and they were 1. give jane his jacket 2. walk in and get his hammer 3. fly out. that was literally his plan. he had the first “I have a plan. attack.” moment in the MCU. pure concentrated 0-brain-cells energy right here. how can you not stan this king of d*mb*ssery. look at him, flaunting his big boy muscles. he’s about get his hammer and fly out, like he just told jane with a trademark stupid-smile.

crop-top hair-mop thor is my favourite thor. the way the entire fight scene parallels a hamster in a maze only exemplifies the thor vibes for some inexplicable reason.

“you’re big. fought bigger.” + Thor douche-smile + subtext from earlier + rolling around passionately in the mud = not a happy me.

I swear i’m not making up this romantic subtext but it’s barely even subtext. the entire scene leading up to Thor’s attempt at lifting the hammer is actually filmed erotically. I’m not kidding. First there’s a shot where Thor pulls aside a hamster-cage-wall blind which mirrors a shower-curtain, and THEN he walks around the hammer while smiling douche-ly at it, we get a few close-ups to his face which are shot from angles slightly lower than himself, giving him an aire of superiority, plus the music adds to this, he reaches out for the hammer’s handle with a mud-covered arm in the rain, in non-slow-motion slow-motion, and he wraps his arm around it, like, he fully twists his arm, unecessarily sexually, around it as he grabs the hammer. This is not okay. On the plus side, it makes the movie much more entertaining,, on the down side,,.

im not going to call Thor dumb for not knowing he’s not worthy. im not going to. because odin literally whispered the enchantment to mjolnir after he’d thrown thor to midgard. it is very funny watching thor grunt in frustration though. he starts yelling because he couldn’t lift the hammer and just lets himself get caught. like, dude, get a life, go buy a new weapon from the store, seriously. he mourns for the hammer on-screen longer than he does for loki. he also looks like he’s in far more pain here. he becomes catatonic and unresponsive after this, but when loki dies he’s already feasting the same afternoon. 10/10 dum dum thor material. never change thor, never change. (that’s code for please change, thor, please,)

thor trying to establish dominance wherever he goes is the funniest thing because at this point he’s being a complete asgardian *ss about it and it’s reaching points of pettiness never seen before. side note: he is possibly flirting with selvig too. maybe. i’m not saying anything happened, but Thor’s openning lines when bringing him home carried over his shoulder are “he’s fine, not injured at all,” followed with an apology to selvig, and an explanation to jane which consisted only of “we drank, we fought, he made his ancestors proud,” and then he puts the man to bed and before he falls asleep erik says “i still don’t believe you’re the g*d of th*nder, but you ought to be,” so... your choice, i guess...

thor’s got his trademark stupid smile and stupidly takes jane’s life’s work notebook and starts doodling in it about trees. the last time his father told him this story about Yggdrasil was when he was 5 and he clearly hasn’t payed attention to any lesson about anything since and it shows so so much. thank you thor. very insightful knowledge you’re passing on hear. ‘i come from a world where [science and magic] are one and the same,’ ok great, now elaborate on that please. oh, right, you can’t because you’re thor, my bad, 20/10 thor behaviour. he couldn’t even doodle nicely. all his lines are wobbly. epic art fail. i wouldn’t trust him near my sketchbook with a 2B pencil.

THIS is thor’s realization face. in case anyone was interested in what ‘dawning truth’ looked like on him. 😰😪 THIS is the face of a thinker, of a man betrayed by his own beloved brother for unprecedented reasons. look at the nuance in his expression. 😩😩😩 so many emotions, I can’t even count them all 😩💯😪

stupid smile and “do not worry my friends, i have a plan,” he says, ��i’ll just try and abuse the fact that Loki’s super selfless and kind and has no self worth to my benefit as i have countless times before which is exactly what he’s rightfully angry about this time,” he doesn’t think to himself because that is NOT the smile of someone who is thinking... like, at all. +10000 points to gryffinthor. the d*mb*ssery really jumps out.

“im sorry bro for whatever i did and whatever you’re blaming me for as an excuse to do this, im sorry bro, but you’re disturbing innocents that i don’t really care about but you’re the one making a scene in front of them so why don’t you admit you won’t kill me and are just having a temper tantrum and we move on? hmm?” and then he proceeds to get slam dunked in the face with a metal arm like yEAAAA BOI that’s what you GET for going up against the SENTIENT LAVA-SPEWING metal-man ya absolute dunderhead clod. thunderhead clod? yeah, that. he’s just so dumb, your honour, please, you must understand, the victim pleads guilty on all charges of d*mb*ss and d*mb*ss alone.

I can NOT describe the emotions I feel knowing that Thor is suck-kissing Jane’s knuckles. Like, his mouth is literally jelly-ing it up against her hand. There is suction there and it shows when he is placing and removing his mouth. I promise that’s what is happening. I’m not any happier than you about this. I regret everything. This is why Loki should be what is focused on and not Thor; Thor’s going around trying to frick frack everything in sight even if it’s just Jane’s hand. He’s maintaining eye contact with Jane while he licks her fingers. Why did I decide to rewatch this movie.

i’m only adding this in as a thor moment because of how desperately and badly they kiss. seriously. 2/10 kiss. im not surprised jane broke up with him. they look like two actual seals fighting over an actual grape. while i’m here i’m going to criticize every fic ever that decided thor is an experienced gentle lover. what were y’all on when watching this movie. thor can and will f*ck literally everything in sight and he won’t even do it well because he is the peakest of peak d*m d*m. look at this man. look at his face. that is the face of an absolute himbo idiot, and it’s the face of an absolute himbo idiot who knows it. he’s been stranded on earth for 2 days, max, and his flirt-count is at 69 people because his name is one letter away from thot. i bet his terrible use of a pen from early means he writes his ‘r’s like ‘t’s and he doesn’t even care. 1000/10 thor moment. doesn’t get much more romance-thor than two individuals smooshing their faces together after some finger sucking. that finger sucking is gonna leave jane simping for years. and that’s true love babey. <3

“I’ll handle my Brother!” Thor says, as if Loki didn’t send a metal-murder-bot that quite virtually killed him less than ten minutes ago asdfhkhsdgsdjf Thor, you horrific himbo you, Loki’s weapon of choice is literally throwing knives he will literally kill you before you enter the room if he’s on his game and wants you dead which he just proved he would do and you’re just gonna???????????? jog on over to him????? Thor??????????? bruH???????????? buddy??????? pal???????? you really wanna go 1v1 the brother you very clearly underestimate and know nothing about????????????????? im loving the confidence, but, no.

Loki: “you literally can’t stop this from here.” Thor, immediately: “i’m going to hit it with the hammer and see if that works” and then it does in fact work later... technically speaking, even if it ends up causing chaos destruction and death and loki falling off the bifrost 😔😔😔 but Big Brain Thor is the Biggest Brained Thor!!! The plan worked!! in a messy-Thor-ish way, but it did!!!

“you can’t kill an entire race!!!!” Thor yells, teeth gritted, as he faces his brother, his coward pacifist brother, who has suddenly decided he wants to join the age-old family tradition of realm-destroying, when this is supposed to be Thor’s dream, Thor’s, not Loki’s. How dare he, Thor thinks to himself, fist clenched around Mjolnir in anger, the pain of the handle pressing against his palm perhaps the only thing preventing him from lashing out at this thought, that’s my planet of monsters to slay, he should go get his own! Loki hits Thor across the face with the back-end of his spear. “Now fight me,” Loki says, but Thor, well, Thor cannot fight, as he remains stunned that of all things Loki would dare steal his life’s ambition, and he is sent sprawling backwards across the observatory, slowly but surely sliding to a stop despite his catatonic, very symbolic silence.

the elegance, the poise, i see your time on earth has made you no less graceful, Thor. the simple magnitude of this sprawl. the spread of the arms. the turn of the feet. this is not a dude, this is a man.

sometimes your brother starts vehemently talking about he’s gonna kill the race of monsters and about how he’s only ever wanted to be your equal and about how he’s not your brother and never was and sometimes you just have to say “this is madness” instead of addressing the issues or asking for any of the deets 🔥 👊💯😩

Loki is whipping Thor’s butt. Both literally, and metaphorically, Loki is whooping Thor’s d*mb*ss. Earlier he knicked Thor’s face, now he’s just pushing Thor around, he uses the spear as a pole and later kicks Thor’s face by kicking vertically up, and Thor, bless him in all his blond golden muscled glory, doesn’t think anything is up with this, gosh he’s such an absolute utter idiot

sometimes your brother laughs way too much and also cries too much in a fight and there are also too many of him so you just need to blast lightning so you get a shot at all of them 😌😌😌 and then put your magical infinitely-heavy hammer on his chest 😌😌😌 but it’s okay because Thor left holes in Loki’s container 😌😌😌

now THIS is the meat to Thor’s funny bone, just the pure unadulterated humour that is Thor saying that there will never be a “wiser king” or a “better father” than Odin, it cracks me up every single time without fail, just the way he says it with a straight face and— what do you mean he wasn’t joking

look at Thor’s stupid smile as he asks Heimdall to spy on jane every single day while conveniently never asking after Loki ever. This is Thor’s face in mourning after he attended a feast after everyone was celebrating after Loki’s death. Look at his stupid smile. I love him your honour. He’s just,, he’s just so frickin stewpeed, just Thor being Thor, just the purest of d*mbest of *sses.

#listen #if people can interpret loki and the grandmaster as a thing when loki spends the entire time looking uncomfortable about every situation #then i can interpret thor as flirting with people when there are actual canon questions which get solved when other explanations dont work #so #dont mind me here #in conclusion: thor is a dum dum idiot and it's *chef's kiss*#thank you for coming to my ted talk #ThisPostIsLongerThanMyLifeSpan #TPILTMLS #Language!#language #im one of those people who comments on things through movies but you can't be mad because it's worth it and i've got points #obviously writing means i can get the full gist of the comments out without summarizing #but #like #my family is simply underappreciative and i'm a genius

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

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okay, so... matthews been working on his new script alot and you need attention. so you go into his office in just one of his button ups, instead of him fucking you right away he says you can come sit on his cock. if you are good he will fuck you but if you arent he will keep adding time. you end up sitting on him for an hour. for the last 15 mins he makes you edge yourself. then, he picks you up and bends you over and fucks you. he makes you watch in the mirror that is in front of his desk

Look, Its the queen again! @slutforthegubes is literally one of the only person who keeps me going and keeping me in a creative mindset! so thank you so much bb!! love you!

WARNINGS : Smut obvi, Dom!Mgg x Sub!Reader, Degradation by name calling, Rough sex, Slight exhibitionism, Spitting in mouth stuff :), Slight breeding kink, edging, orgasm denial, over stimulation, aftercare and um just your usual filthy smut from me you know the drill :)

excuse the writting errors! thank you and happy reading. view my other works —> MASTERLIST

It’s been an hour since Matthew decided that he needed to work on his newest script on a Sunday morning, you were half asleep when he pressed lingering kisses on your neck before announcing that he has some script reading to do, which you groaned at but still too drowsy to process anything. Of course, Matthew didn’t want to leave the bed at such an early morning on a Sunday nonetheless but he really needs to get this done.

But now here you were, all alone sprawled out on your shared bed, with no warmth from your boyfriend to engulf you. An annoyed huffed left your lips as you clutched onto his pillow, trying to inhale as much as his scent as possible, you want to drown and bathe in his scent, you want him— no you need him. It’s safe to say that you were desperately needy for him.

This doesn’t happen too often, but it does happen sometimes, more times than others now that you finally have the time to really enjoy each other. Sometimes you get like this, so turned on that you became a mindless little brat, and the only thing that can soothe your neediness is none other than Matthew. You just want him to pound into you like tomorrow doesn’t exists, maybe choke on you a little, and hearing his condescending tone as he spank you for being bad, god you need it and you need it bad this morning.

The heat inside your belly swell up at the scent of him, causing you to hump a little against the silky sheets, the fact that you’re naked and covered with his marks on you from last night’s activities only fueled up the building intensity within your core. You wanted to be good for Matthew, desperately after all, he doesn’t have that many rules for you, just the essentials like “Don’t ever cum without my permission, nobody and that includes you shall touch what’s mine unless its under my permission, and obey everything i said unless you safe word.” But you’re so needy, you’re willing to humiliate yourself by letting your cunt graze against the silk and moaned— technically you didn’t break any rules.

Soon enough, your need for him only became stronger and humping the sheets felt so dull compared to the pleasure you know he can give you, you just need him to be inside you that’s all. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you get up, quickly putting on one of Matthew’s button up that was tossed to the side and head downstairs looking all cute, and... messy— your hair is a cute mess, your nipples hard against the shirt, your eyes looked hazy, your lips red and bitten raw, the marks on your neck to your collarbones as well as the ones on your ass were exposed, and the dripping wet core between your legs. God, you looked like a fuckable goddess.

When you knock on his office door your feet jump giddily, knowing how this will go down, surely he can’t resist you looking this good and marked just for him... Oh if only you knew how patient Matthew is at keeping you on the edge.

—————

“Come in”

His voice sent her straight to heaven, she thought as she leaned against the door for a second before taking a deep breath and then open his office door, revealing a very very focused yet intimidating looking Matthew. His lips tucked away between his upper teeth, his veiny fingers holding the script as his glasses covered eyes taking through each words, plus his mismatched socks, blue and green this time. You kept wondering, How can one look so cute yet hot at the same time.

You closed the door before padded down on the carpeted floor, to where he’s sitting. “Hi, Matthew!” Your chirped, tone way too high, that has him immediately looking up from his script. See, You and Matthew knew each other so well, that even by how you act and speak can show what mood you’re in, and when he looked at you wearing his large button up, clearly no bra or panties, messy hair, and high pitched voice, he knows exactly what you’re up to, and oh no, Y/N has chosen a very very bad day to be naughty.

“Princess, come here.” He pat his lap, signaling for you to sit which you happily do right away, but when you tried to straddle him, both of his hand gripped your waist tightly so you stilled on your feet, looking at him with confusion “What’s wrong?”

The way he smiled sent goosebumps all the way to your core, as you gulped loudly. “I told you to sit on my lap, not to straddle my thigh. You don’t think you can fool me do you baby? I know how desperate little thing like you wouldn’t be able to resist grinding your needy cunt against me. It’s pathetic really.” Your eyes met his, but whilst his eyes shown unmerciful, your eyes begged for mercy. A perfect balance.

You really should’ve learned that there’s no way you could escape something that’s so clear already, yet you still run your mouth, “I wasn’t going to! i thought—“ you stopped abruptly when he suddenly pushed two of his lean fingers into your mouth as a way to shut you up. Y/N gagged a little, eyes watering before lowering them in submission, her mouth follows the gesture— suckling on his fingers eagerly.

“Oh would you look at that? the needy baby knows her place after all.” He scoffed, his other hand released your hips then pulled his fingers out of your mouth, bringing the wet fingers down past her (his) button up, Y/N gasped quickly at the way it trails up from her slit to the tip of her clit in a very agonizingly slow pace.

“Well somebody’s wet, isn’t she? been having fun without my permission, pretty girl?” He cooed, tilting his head with his eyebrows raised, and his lips curled into a tight smile. He’s mad, he’s burning mad.

“No! no, sir! i never touched what’s yours.” You defended yourself, trying so hard to not let your knees buckled at the sensation of his fingers slowly torturing your pussy with feathery touches and flicks around your clit.

“Shut up.” He ordered, “you know.. you weren’t as quiet as you thought baby, ‘s a shame really, you should’ve known how loud and greedy you are.”

“But i wasn—“ He dangerously cut you off, with one hand gripping the base of your throat and the other pushing two fingers up your pussy, pumping them slowly.

“Be quiet, petal.” He demanded, his fingers going faster and faster as he curled them upwards to thrust on your spongy walls making you tremble against him and involuntary tightening your walls around his fingers. “Gonna cum, princess?” you cried out a loud ‘yes please!’ at his coos— you were so close that your eyes fluttered shut, you breathing hitched when his hand around your throat tightened and he pulled out his fingers with a condescending laugh.

“Not so fast, love.” He pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, the contrast evident from how you were gasping heavily, “Now, I still have few more scripts to go through, since you’re here already why don’t you be a doll and sit on my cock, but you can’t cum, you can’t make a sound, and you can’t move. If you move even an inch, best believe there’ll be consequences” He explained slowly, suggesting how mushy your brain is right now, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure, but you knew that he demanded.

You obediently nod, receiving a small ‘good girl, i love you, baby’ from him that made your tummy warm, it was a reminder that no matter how rough and far he took it, this is all for your pleasure and his. Y/N smiled shakily whispering i love you, as she pulled his cock out, lining it up with her slit before she sink down on his length slowly, causing the both of them to moan out loud.

“That’s it, such a perfect whore for me. Sit still now baby, i have some work to do.” The way he snapped out of his demeanor to his dominant one really had you shaking, plus the way his cock filling your pussy— it honestly felt too much, too good, and warm. You just want to cum, this is going to be so hard, you thought as you try to sit still, leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes.

———

The first 10 minutes was a torture, Matthew is well endowed— not too big that it hurts, but perfect enough that you can feel the burn from his length stretching you out, he’s long enough that when he thrust up, the head of his cock hits the perfect spot inside you. So accommodating his size wasn’t easy, you practically squirming in his lap that has him slapping your thigh more than 10 times, with a harsh “Quiet.”

Then 30 minutes had passed, you were comfortable enough that you shakily asked him some questions about his scripts as he read them, but even then you still receive a total of 5 slap to your thighs for practically grinding on his cock— well who could blame her? she’s filled to the brim of him.

When they reached 45 minutes, Y/N watched as Matthew finished reading the last of his script— she can practically feel herself start to throb around him, itching to jump up and down his cock like a bunny. So she looked up at him through her lashes, batting them innocently, “Sir.. can i.. can we.. please? you’re done right?” You purred nervously as he put his files back onto the drawer. This is it, you thought.

“No, i’m not done. I’m going to get a call in a minute, and i want you to stay here and quiet like an obedient little slut i know you can be.” Okay.. that wont be too hard, usually his calls only last 10 minutes and you’re content. But as you were about to answer, your jaw fell open as quick as your luck have.

“And i want you to rub that pretty clit, edge yourself for me, every time you’re close i want you to slap it gently 3 times before going back at it, no stopping. If i hear a squeak or i see you stop or move on my cock, i won’t let you cum tonight. Understand?” He demanded right next to hear ear, voice all raspy and deep sending chills right up her spine.

She doesn’t have any choice but to say “yes, sir.” Knowing full well that if this wasn’t something that she wanted she could stop it, but she wanted this, and deep down she knows how much Matthew love seeing her all squirmy and needy mess for him.

So he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before picking up the call from his manager. His hand tapped your tummy twice, signaling for you to start. Slowly, you bring your hand down your clit, feeling the wetness from where your cunt connected with his cock, gasping quietly as you rub the wetness on your clit. If you thought that before was a torture, then this is death. You can’t even control the way you shake as you keep on rubbing your clit like he asked, meanwhile he’s talking about an upcoming project.

You panted heavily as you slapped your cunt 3 times when you felt how close you were, your face was a mess, tears streaming down your cheeks and you’re practically squeezing around Matthew’s cock earning a grunt from him, and a warning pinch on your thigh.

“N-no i’m alright, yeah i stubbed my toe.” He glared at you as your eyes begged him, you were seconds away from coming all over his cock when he finally— finally ended his call.

Matthew didn’t waste any time, he gripped your wrist and slapped it away from your cunt, using his own fingers to rub your clit fast as you clench all over his cock. “You’re so cute, but i’m afraid i’ll have to ruin you, baby.” He whispered as if you haven’t been acting like a desperate whore for him this whole time. “Just for you! just you fuck, Sir may i cum?” You mewled loudly, Matthew held you close against him, nibbling on your ear before whispering a low, “Cum, now.” and so you did. Hard. Warm, everything is blazing as you squirm and convulse safely tucked away inside his arms.

“Good girl Y/N, shh that’s it. So cute when you cry like that.” He cooed as you came down from your high, only to feel him buck his hips up and slammed his cock deeper into you,

“Think i’m done baby? no no no. Not fair right? i’ve worked so hard, yet you’re the only one who came.” His voice sending alerts to your system as you buzz and whimpered out, “No.. not fair sir, please let me help.” You’re so tuckered out but in your delicate submissive state, his pleasure is what matters to you.

Matthew pulled his cock out of you, causing you to whine not used to the feeling of emptiness, which he chuckled and muttered “Patience, my good little slut always wait.” You nodded eagerly, just wanting to please him.

He gripped your hair in hand, tightly pulling it back a little, leaving your mouth hang open— Then unexpectedly, his gaze is on your half lidded eyes as he spit down your throat. The gesture made you widen your eyes in shock but swallowing it still which made him grin.

“Ah, of course you would like that.”

“Sir.. can you do it again please?” You definitely shocked yourself and him, his eyes widen for a second before quickly clearing his throat and spit down your throat, which you moaned lewdly and closing your eyes, whispering “Thank you sir” that earned you a slap on the ass and him bending you over the opposite end of the desk where you can see your reflection through the mirror in front of you.

“Gonna give you what you’ve been wanting now, baby.” He whispered, his gripped on your hair is tight as he aligned himself with your wet entrance, your chin pressed against the desk with him leaning down and whispered “You’re gonna take it, and watch.”

————

Matthew slip his cock into you inch by inch, letting out grunts and moans as he felt your tight warm hole engulfed his cock once more. Your eyes kept on looking to the mirror as you begin to whine, he’s filling you so good— its even deeper with this position.

He stared at your eyes at the reflection before he smiles dangerously and begin to thrust in and out of you, in a fast pace, with one hand on your hips and one hand on your hair, spontaneously gripping them. You let out little moans and squeaks as you feel yourself getting close quickly, body buzzing with oversensitivity. “Sir i- oh!—“

“Cum as many times as you want, fuck— baby go on, you deserve it.” So you came again, he can feel your walls became impossibly tight making him throw his head back and his thrusts becomes sloppier yet brutal.

“You’re perfect Y/N, such a goddess— fuck i love you.” He keeps on grunting your name as he fucks you on his desk, you both lock eyes in the mirror one last time before he came inside you, spilling every bit of him inside with strings of curses and i love you’s.

———————

“I love you.. Matthew..” Y/N croaked out, as Matthew pulled out slowly, then grabbed a cloth to wipes both of you and settling you down on his lap sideways as he cradled you. “I love you too, future Mrs. Gubler”

“We should really considering condoms.” You laughed as you hid your face on your fiancé’s neck

“Aren’t you on birth control?” He curiously asked, playing with your hair soothingly as you purred, “Yeah but.. we have sex 24/7, its possible that you know” You blushed as he chuckled then whispered on your ear,

“I wouldn’t mind anyways.”

“Matthew Gray Gubler!”

—————

Hope you enjoyed! as always, blurb reqs are open just send in ideas or feedbacks or constructive criticisms if you have any! i’m working my way down the requests so be patient. Thank you! i love you!

#mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg fluff #spencer reid smut #insufferableblurb #criminal minds smut #spencer reid imagines

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lunnanunna · 4 years ago

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Alert Pt. 2

SF9 Extra Member AU

Summary: [Requested] Miyoung gets worse as the day goes on, but luckily she has the boys there with her.

Warning: swearing, mentions of being sick

Taglist: @hyunmijung @galacticstxrdust @many-gay-magpies @precious-seungwooya @helladead-hellaradical @boss-baby-jongho @kimonmars @chagi-nana @wooya1224 @poutypoutybin @sunflower-0180 @frankenstein852 @jenseok17

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from a taglist.

A/N: This was super requested this morning, so yeah. Hopefully it’ll satisfy your need for angst and Miyoung. The poor girl needs a happy post soon.

Requests are open! Please like, leave a comment, or send an ask. Doing any of these things is one more reason from me to keep writing.

The day continued uneventfully for Miyoung. She changed into a pair of shorts and a swim shirt along with the others, but Youngbin and their manger had told her that she wouldn’t be joining in. She was a little bummed out about that, but the nausea that started up once they got to the water overruled that.

“If you really wanna to get wet, then you can sit here and have your feet in the water,” Youngbin suggested as he pointed to an area on the floating dock where she would be able to see everyone perfectly.

“Thanks, Oppa,” Miyoung nodded and sat down, smiling as her feet hit the water.

“Just make sure you actually tell someone if you’re feeling worse. Don’t put it off ‘cause we’re playing or something,” Youngbin said, crouching by Miyoung, he had the back of his palm to her forehead, checking for a fever.

“Or maybe I should sit out too, and keep an eye on you?” Youngbin thought to himself.

Miyoung’s eyes widened. “No, Oppa! Go have fun with the guys. I’ll be fine. Really. Plus Dohyun-oppa is here too, and all the staff. I’ll go to them,” she said, gently pushing Youngbin. She didn’t want him to sit out because of her.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Miyoung sent him a smile.

Youngbin stared at her for a bit longer, but nodded and got up to join the others. She smiled at him and the guys when they looked back at her.

Miyoung watched and laughed as her members tried water skiing, the banana boat (That was definitely her favorite one to watch), and then the obstacle course that would determine the change in cars to the house they were staying at that night. The more she watched, the more upset she was about the fact that she couldn’t join.

She rested her head against the beam she was leaning on and continued to watch. When Jaeyoon and Inseong looked at her, she smiled because as bummed out as she was for not joining them, she loved the fact that they were enjoying themselves.

The obstacle course was definitely the event that was taking them the longest, and as time went by Miyoung felt her nausea grow. She winced a bit when she also felt a pang in her stomach. (Did she eat something weird last night when she went out to eat with her sister? Probably. That girl had a weird taste in foods.)

Getting up to find a bathroom, she quietly prayed that she didn’t actually have to throw up (She hated the feeling and the taste.) As she entered the bathroom though, she realized she was out of luck and found herself sitting in front of the toilet with the little food Dohyun had given her earlier and last night’s dinner sitting in the bowl in front of her.

Sitting up, back against the wall, she took deep breaths to calm herself, but soon she found herself leaning over the toilet again.

“Noona?” and a knock came from the door. Miyoung didn’t answer, already knowing that whoever it was was going to come in anyway.

She felt someone hold her hair back and run their hand up and down her back. It felt nice in contrast to the tightening of her stomach muscles.

“You good?” So it was Chanhee who had followed her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, he had been watching her like a hawk the whole day.

She sat back, slumping into him, as he reached for some toilet paper to wipe her face and her hair. Scared that if she actually spoke up she’d throw up again, she just nodded.

“Have you been feeling nauseous the whole time, or just now?” Chanhee asked, flushing the toilet.

“Not that long,” Miyoung mumbled, wiping at the tears that had fallen while she was sick.

“You think you’re good to stand?”

Miyoung nodded, though Chanhee still basically lifted her up, supporting most of her weight. When he saw that her legs gave out the moment she stood, he crouched in front of her. Miyoung would have protested had it not been for the fact that she literally had no energy left.

She draped herself onto his back and he hoisted her up. Then he made his way out of the bathroom and towards the chairs and tables that were set out. Miyoung wasn’t at all surprised to have caught the attention of the rest of them as Chanhee sat her down.

“What happened?” Youngbin asked, crouching in front of Miyoung.

“I kind of threw up,” Miyoung shrugged, wrapping an arm around her torso.

Youngbin reached out to feel her forehead again. “You’re burning up too,” he said.

“Should she go see a doctor?” Taeyang suggested.

“No, I’m good. I think I just ate something weird last night,” Miyoung said. “It’ll pass on it’s own.” She’s had food poisoning before, she knew the drill.

“But what if it’s not though?” Youngkyun asked, nervously playing with his hands.

Miyoung smiled at him, shaking her head. “Don’t worry I’ve gotten food poisoning before, I know the signs. I should honestly stop letting Unnie pick the restaurants,” she chuckled a bit.

“I’ll get some water,” Sanghyuk said as he walked off to the coolers that the staff had brought.

Even though Miyoung said she was fine, the heat was definitely adding into the mix. She felt overheated, and even though she knew her stomach was empty, she could feel it clenching. The visual really hoped that she wouldn’t find herself dry heaving later.

“I think we can call off the rest of the games and just go to the house,” Youngbin said, directing it towards the staff, almost challenging them to say otherwise.

“Agreed,” Dohyun nodded, then he and the staff started packing up.

Miyoung wanted to apologize for cutting their time short, but she was struggling to keep her head up. Her hands were cold too and she knew she was probably going to pass out. She tried grabbing one of the guys, but her vision darkened faster than she had expected it to.

Chanhee who was standing next to her watched it all in slow motion. He saw her reach out, and then her eyes roll to the back of her head. The maknae was surprised with how fast he had reacted.

“Hyung!” Chanhee called out to any of his hyungs as he held a limp Miyoung in his arms. Everyone turned to look at them and Youngbin and Juho who were the closest rushed to them.

“Shit,” Youngbin hissed as he took Miyoung in his arms, gently patting her cheek to try to wake, “Yah, Miyoung-ah.”

“Hyung, lay her here,” Jaeyoon said, pointing out to a cot that was by the wall.

Youngbin carefully scooped her up in his arms and brought her to it and laid her down. “Get Hyung,” Youngbin directed at Inseong, who quickly went to grab their manager.

A few seconds later and Miyoung opened her eyes. Confusedly looking around, she realized that she did in fact pass out.

“Hyung, she’s up.” Youngbin turned to Miyoung and let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Hey. How you feeling?” the leader asked.

Miyoung felt stuffy, but she normally felt like that if she fainted, her stomach still hurt a bit, and she was really thirsty.

“I think she’s dehydrated,” Taeyang said, just as Sanghyuk handed her water.

“Thanks,” she said, as Youngbin helped her sit up.

“The heat probably isn’t helping,” Youngbin said looking at Miyoung, watching as her color slowly came back to her face.

“I'll get better once I drink more and sleep,” Miyoung said. She hoped that they would let her sleep in the bigger car again and that they’d crank up the AC.

“Come on, let's get you changed and settled in the car,” Youngbin said.

Miyoung nodded, but as she got up, Chanhee grabbed her arm on reflex. She giggled a bit. “You want to carry me so I don’t fall over again?”

“Yes, actually,” the maknae said seriously, then hoisted her onto his back.

“Chanhee’s not letting her out of his sight today,” Jaeyoon chuckled.

“That makes two of us,” Youngbin added.

Miyoung flushed at the attention. She hated being sick, but she loved her boys.

Miyoung’s Masterlist

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forgadgetsandgizmos · 4 years ago

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‘Cause You’re A Sky Full of Stars (I’m Going To Give You My Heart)

My fic for Day 1 of Alex Manes Week 2020 | Prompt: Home Can Be A Person

Read on AO3 Here

It was nearing sunset when Alex pulled his jeep beside the familiar, fading colors of Michael’s white-and-blue truck and cut off the engine. Looking around from where he sat in the driver’s seat, the place hadn’t changed in the decade since he’d last been here. He had been a hopeful 17-year-old in love, high on dreams of the future, carving A M into tree bark.

Alex chuckled under his breath. They hadn’t been brave enough to add the plus or a heart. With only two letters, it could easily be mistaken for Alex’s own initials, but Michael had left an empty space between with whispered promises of someday and after.

Someday, if they were braver.

After, when they’d be adults and free.

It was a sweet kind of irony that the reason they had always came here then was the same reason he was here now.

Michael had always found comfort in the desert.

Alex stepped out of the jeep, the uneven sand beneath his feet sinking in greeting. He sent a quick prayer of thanks that he had the sensibility to put on boots this morning - his prosthetic would be hell to deal with if sand got in it - before locking the car and heading forward.

A heavy breeze brought the sound of tree leaves ruffling, their healthy emerald color shimmering under the orange desert glow. It also brought sharp clinks of glass hitting rock from where Michael sat facing the sunset.

His body was a dark shadow against the tan background, the light illuminated stray curls escaping from under his trademark black cowboy hat. It reminded Alex of a scene in an old western.

Michael had to know he was here - he couldn’t be so drunk that he missed the loud rumble of Alex’s jeep - but he hadn’t turned around. Alex supposed that means he has to go to him. Though if he’s being honest with himself, the only somewhat flat part of the stone that can be used climb to Michael looked a lot more daunting at 28 than it had at 17.

Probably because the last time he’d climbed up and down that rock it had been with two steady legs and a sober Michael to lend a hand.

Banking on familiarity with the path and muscle gained from a decade of military training to compensate, Alex ducked under the tree blocking his way and started up. It was slow going, frustratingly slow, but he made it to the top without any injury to himself or his leg.

“You climbed up.”

Alex took that as an invitation and sat down, his legs (all one and a half) joining Michael’s in dangling off the edge. “I did,” he answered.

Michael grunted and offered him a bottle. “Whiskey?”

Alex took the bottle from him but shook his head. “I shouldn’t. One of us has to drive back eventually.”

“Then give back the bottle.”

Alex tipped it over the edge, far enough that sand would cushion the fall and it wouldn’t break. If the level of whiskey and the bottle opener he had scene in the truck were any indication, Michael was at least three shots past tipsy. He didn’t need to drink anymore.

“Or do that,” Michael scowled.

“You’re drunk enough already. It’ll be hard enough to climb off this rock sober, I don’t want to have to carry you.”

Michael flung a hand forward, “That’s what jumpin’ is for.” Obviously, his tone said.

Alex raised an eyebrow and gave the rock a kick with his bad leg. Boots were okay for walking, but they couldn’t keep all the sand out if he took a 15-foot drop into it. This was a new prosthetic too, and his doctor at the vet hospital in Albuquerque would kill him if he ground down the joints in less than a month.

Michael’s face clouded over, jaw clenched shut.

“We gonna talk about why you’re up here?”

”I like the view,” he drawled, tipping his hat with a playful smirk.

“You seem upset,” Alex prodded.

Michael snorted. “You’d think. I’m not.”

“Oh?”

Michael’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “Really, I swear,” he laughed. “Look,” he whispered, pointing head of them.

The sky was glowing.

As far as Alex could see, the sky was a myriad blue, purple, and pink shades. Where the sun still hit it, the sand, so often harsh and burning, reflected the colors back to the sky as if it was waving to an old friend. The rest formed a black contrast that seemed to deepen each shade. They set in comfortable silence in their oasis, watching the colors merge and morph on the horizon as sun inched down lower.

“Before I joined the Air Force, I assumed I’d never leave the west coast. I wanted to be a musician, so kid-me just knew that all I’d have to do was go to L.A. and never leave. I’ve never even been to L.A.” Alex remarked to himself, eyes still on the horizon. But in between the camouflage of fatigues and the gunpowder smoke, I saw so many different people, so many cultures.” He let his awe fill his voice as he spoke. “And I’d catch myself missing this ... empty desert that I grew up miserable in.”

Michael glanced at him with a confused smile.

“What?”

Michael shook his head softly. “I never thought of Roswell as home. I didn’t even live here until I was eleven. And Max and Iz tried their best but,” he shrugged.

“But you wanted to search the desert for pieces of an alien spaceship,” Alex finished. Michael wanted to leave. He still does, and Liz might have destroyed his best chance at Crash-Con.

“I worked so hard. The consul Liz destroyed would have killed a lot of people and I don’t wish it had, don’t get me wrong,” Michael rushed to say, alcohol slightly blurring his words together as he tried to speak too fast.

“It’s okay to mourn a dream,” Alex reassured him. He tried to project acceptance and comfort instead of the sick loneliness that always settled in when he thought about Michael leaving Earth.

“No, you don’t get it,” Michael exclaimed, knotting his fingers in his hair and knocking his hat behind him in the process. “I’m not mad, not pissed, and I should be so that’s why I’m drinking on a rock on a Monday.”

He must have scene a puzzled look on Alex’s face because he started to clarify.

”You said when you were a kid and home in Roswell, you wanted to see the world and once you did, you missed home, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. How did that have to do with anything?

“I always felt like I was already seeing the world and I was always missing home, even if I didn’t remember it. I don’t know when it changed but when I realized that consul had blown up and I hadn’t even tried to save it, I just ran off to help you and then Maria?”

He gestured to the whiskey bottle laying in the sand. “Yeah, I’m mourning, but I’m mourning my chance to see my past and to visit that world. I don’t feel like it’s my home anymore.”

The sky had lost its color now. If the sunset had been an old western, this was a black-and-white picture movie. Everything he saw was monochrome, washed out in grays and blacks.

“Roswell still sucks,” Michael continued. “but that’s okay. It’s not my home.”

Alex took a deep breath as if steadying himself for the answer. “What is?”

Michael met his eyes with a steady gaze. He looked confident, the slight glaze and wide eye-look from alcohol making his irises shine as if the moon itself was looking at him under the colorless sky.

He smiled sadly. “Home can be a person, Alex. I found mine when I was seventeen. It’s just taken me a little while to realize it, is all.”

Oh. Oh. Alex didn’t say anything, just stared at Michael in wonder. He didn’t think he could speak if he tried. He never expected, he, that - he never expected this. That he loved Michael more than Michael loved him was a fact that he had come to terms with. He didn’t know what to do with this.

Would Michael regret this in the morning?

Alex knew he was too afraid of the answer to ask.

After long, Michael’s face lit up with relief. His emotions had always changed often and quickly, even when they were kids. He understood the need, of course, to project a feeling you thought someone wanted from you, but unlike Alex, Michael seemed to actually feel it.

“You don’t need to respond. Really, you already have,” he pointed out.

Yeah, maybe.

“Let’s just lay here, yeah?” He leaned back, head to the sky.

Alex joined him, still silent. Words echoed in his head, each thing taking on a new meaning he hadn’t seen before.

They’re my family, Alex! All right, maybe. But you’re mine.

I loved you. And I think you loved me.

I know you loved me.

I know what he means to Alex

You are the best of me.

“In a little bit, I’ll be sober enough to move you down,” Michael whispered. “Until then, the stars are out.”

He meant float him down off the rock with telekinesis, Alex realized. For some reason, the notion warmed him almost as much as Michael’s earlier confession had.

Alex nodded, and they lay together under the stars illuminating the sky, Michael’s low humming joining the sounds of desert coming to life.

I don’t care, go on and tear me apart.

And I don’t care if you do.

‘Cause you’re a sky full of stars,

I think I see you.

Such a heavenly view.

Also on AO3

#roswell new mexico #malex #alexweek2020 #alexappreciation2020 #alex manes #michael guerin #roswellnm #rnm #roswell nm #tyler blackbrun #fic #malex fic #ao3 #my writing #alicewrites

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ticktickblog · 4 years ago

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Self-Discipline or Self-Torture?

Don’t Let the Excessive Self-Discipline Hurt You

What has caused the Excessive Self-Discipline?

Bombarded with numbers of books and courses aimed at helping us develop self-discipline, together with numerous praises from people around us or on the internet, it seems quite obvious that self-discipline is such a highly-valued quality in today’s society.

This however, may overstate the significance of being self-disciplined to some extent and may thus pressure us in a way that we easily feel anxious and left-behind if we fail to climb over the “self-restraint mountain” built by so many fabulous examples.

People with such anxiety tend to push themselves harder and harder, just in order to keep pace with those successful examples in this life race. Once their energy is burned out or the willpower collapses, some will fall into an extremely down momentum, thinking they just inertly lack the “self-discipline genes” or completely discrediting being self-discipline itself.

This might explain why even just thinking of self-discipline brings us headaches already. It has been pre-linked with so many negative feelings: toughness, pain, huge effort, discomfort, and shame.

So, is being self-disciplined really a nightmare, or is it just our own misunderstandings or even stereotypes which makes it terrifying?

What does self-discipline really mean to us?

In fact, being self-disciplined never equals to leading a restrictive or punitive lifestyle. Although it seems usually associated with self-control and willpower, it still has to be based on the respect to one’s own free wills, energy flow, effective methods, and positive mindset.

Examples & Contrasts:

“I wanna work out regularly to be more healthy.” vs. “Even though I hate gym, I want 6 packs in order to be as attractive as xxx on Instagram.”

“Think I’ll skip the gym schedule because I’m too tired at work today.” vs. “I gotta work out even though my energy is drained already.”

“I’m good enough even though I know there’s still spaces to improve” vs. “I am terrible and I have no choice but to change.”

“Forming a healthy eating to reduce pizzas for meals” vs. “Cutting pizzas forever off my diet”

“Forgetting Curve is a useful way to learn new vocabularies” vs. “I can learn as many vocabularies as possible so long as I invest more time.”

Through the checklist, some may come to realize that you’re unfortunately in a “self-discipline trap”, where you get your heads up and drain yourself all the time, and where any mistakes, failure and laziness are absolutely not allowed. Is this really the way we improve ourselves to reduce anxiety, or a way to cause greater stress and anxiety? I’ll leave you to think about it.

In general, even though staying self-disciplined is beneficial for self-improvement and the quality of life, it’s never a “everyone-must-do” in life and never means self-torture. On top of it, staying healthy is much much more important.

How can we avoid being over self-restrained?

1. Follow your own energy flow and limit

This simply means when your body tells you that you need rest, then it’s high time you should rest. We all have our own energy flow and upper limit. What in return when disobeying it may not be desirable results. For example, sleeping for 5 hours and then forcing yourself to get up for a morning gym sesh. The harm caused by insufficient sleep may overweigh the good brought by working out. Therefore, arranging yourself a work-out when you have enough time and energy to handle it, instead of sacrificing your sleep time just to do it anyways.

2. Follow your own heart instead of following others

Information on the internet, especially social media, has created a hidden competitive environment where numerous good examples lead the trends and define what is good and cute. People who see these consciously or subconsciously tend to follow. However, 6 packs isn’t a must, neither is S-shape. Not having them is also not a shame. My suggestion is listen to your own voice instead of others. Think and identify whether it is what you truly desire or just the illusional self that other people project in your mind.

3. Keep a positive mindset based on self-acceptance

It might sound like a paradox if I don’t deny myself, how can I have the idea to regulate my behavior? Well, try this way: “I accept and love myself, and I also don’t mind making some changes to be better”. For example, staying up late often largely affects my work efficiency and also speeds the aging of my skin. Therefore, I wanna quit this habit because I wish to improve these. This positive mindset that you develop before taking an action can bring sustainable effects, which helps you enjoy and then insist on doing something. Conversely, denying yourself, e.g. “I am a whole mess that I sleep late too often. My work efficiency is also slow and I age fast”, usually brings up a lot of negative feelings, which may be converted to a strong motivation in the beginning, but is usually inconsistent. Once the rush fades, your self-denial is also enhanced.

4. Adjust your goals and expectations

Some who are excessively self-restrained may also face the situation that their goals and expectations on themselves are too ambitious. This normally comes in two ways: First, they never stop till it’s perfect, despite the fact that nothing could be really perfect. Second, they establish an ambitious goal to themselves. The more unachievable it seems, the more fulfilled they will feel.

For example, losing 10 pounds in a week, quitting smoking immediately and cutting pizza forever off the diet. It then easily goes into an unbalanced and unhealthy cycle that they always set goals but never reach them, no matter how hard they’ve tried. Plus, every time bad habits come back 10 times stronger than before as a payback.

My suggestion is:

* Perfectionism is a fallacy. * Attainable is more important than ambitious. * Huge success always comes from small steps through the time.

5. Work smart instead of working hard

Finding more effective and efficient methods is also another way to avoid self-torture. We might all have ever been stuck in the situation that no matter how much effort we’ve made, the progress is sluggish. Some went further by devoting endlessly. But, reflecting on it, have you found better ways to do it instead of just trying harder?

For example, if I have a goal of learning 20 new vocabularies each day when learning a language, I might follow the Forgetting Curve to improve the efficiency. When trying to stay focused when working from home, I use the Pomo Technique to maintain a work-life balance.

Be careful, sometimes when you feel you’ve been “super self-disciplined”, you may just be “less productive”. Like what Henry Ford said, “Improved productivity means less human sweat, not more.”

Takeaways:

Self-discipline doesn’t have to be associated with discomfort, pain or depression. Therefore, when establishing the healthy habit of being self-disciplined, please remember:

* Follow your own energy flow and limit

* Follow your own heart instead of others

* Keep a positive mindset based on self-acceptance

* Adjust your goals and expectations

* Work smart instead of working hard

#self discipline #selfrestraint #self torture #self harm #self acceptance #self denial #self improvement #self care

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years ago

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Insānĭa || Alfie Solomons x reader || Part Two

↬ Part One ↫

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “Hi luv can you write a Jealous Alfie that’s leads to in ur words good old fashioned rough sex pretty please 😉”

Warnings: swearing, dirty talking, smut, rough sex, oral sex, jealous Alfie getting me on my knees

Author’s notes:

Sooo, I’ve definitely decided to use this kind of titles for fics about strong feelings such as jealousy because Latin is a magnificent, very expressive language that allows you to grasp every single shade of a word and fully understand its meaning

I had to split this in two since it was awfully long: ↠ Part One ↞

Alfie -and Tom Hardy in general- is one of my most remote wet dreams, I truly hope I did a good job with this one ♡

Always remember that jealous rough sex is okay as long as you both enjoy it and you don’t get hurt, otherwise no one has the right to force you into anything, actual violence is never a good thing. Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

Let me know what you think and tell me if this is what you expected ♡

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Insānĭa [insaniă], insaniae feminine noun I declension

1. madness, insanity 2. fury, frenzy 3. excess, extravagance 4. profligacy, luxury

[...]

“Oh, c’mon, love, no need to be this irascible! He is a gorgeous man, you can’t deny that” In truth, you couldn’t care less about that eyetie, still you kept using that coquettish tone, knowing how easy it was for you to find his weak spot, indeed Alfie immediately got close to your face, slightly squeezing his menacing eyes. “Are you fucking trying to make me mad on purpose, y/n? eh?” His palms loudly collided with the wooden surface on each side of your legs, his plump lips were now only a few inches apart from yours, his hot breath warming your flushed cheeks as you pierced his dilated pupils with a lustful gaze.

“Maybe.”

That lascivious whisper shattered against Alfie’s mouth a second before you impatiently kissed him, your fists covetously clutched his white shirt collar as he started fondling your back, then pulling you even closer by vehemently gripping the lower part of your pinned hair, while, with a few brusque movements, his other hand lifted your skirt above your hips and took care of your ivory lingerie which was swiftly pulled to one side. “You’re mine” A grave moan erupted from your throat when that indisputable claim hit you, together with the sudden feeling of two of your lover’s fingers plunging deep into your already soaked core. “Do you hear me?” Alfie growled through his teeth again and your foreheads intimately joined to one another, so that he could keep his voracious stare entangled with yours, a mellow grin took form on your luscious face and you pecked his lips with hunger, brutally pulling his hair. “All yours” As his fingertips expertly stroked your insides, your lecherous remark came out in a muffled gasp, lost between the incessant whimpers leaving your open mouth; you desperately clung to his strong shoulders and hid your head in the crook of his neck, sensing a well-known knot dangerously growing in your stomach, until Alfie’s touch abruptly left your skin, causing you to exhale an instinctive cry of protest. You watched him quickly get rid of his shirt, making you even wetter due to the stunning sight of his muscular abdomen, then he approached you again, unbuttoning your corset with urgency while your bare collarbone was covered in small bites and tickled by his whiskers. Once your voluptuous chest was left exposed, at his complete mercy, Alfie let out a croaky groan, revelling in that aphrodisiac view for a couple of seconds, before his warm tongue assailed your smooth skin, drawing fast circles around one of your nipples as the other was cruelly cupped in his callous left palm. Your breathing hastily became heavier when you felt his lips lingering the area between your breasts and then ruthlessly going down, until he knelt to assault your centre, and you couldn’t hold back a guttural scream, totally overwhelmed by that ardent feeling. Without a chance to stop your movements, you found yourself eager to climax, as your legs widened even more and your fists aggressively tangled his hair, in order to dive his head further between your soft thighs.

Alfie looked up at your figure, astonished by your wild beauty, while he kept devouring you with ferocity, he loved the way your body quivered with blind pleasure because of him, and he knowingly brought two fingers to work along with his tongue, eventually seeing you melt under his touch as frenetic moans escaped your craw. “So fucking sweet” He whined, getting back on his feet as soon as you released, just to luxuriously kiss you again; the taste of your own juices invaded your mouth, your head still spinning from your orgasm, when his hands briefly grasped your free locks, then moving to your bottom, in attempt to pick you up and carry you towards the closet placed next to the door. Goosebumps mantled your burning skin, due to the harsh contrast with the gelid surface of the antique cabinet, but your mind was too dizzy for you to react to that sharp contact, so you just abandoned yourself to your lover’s grip, letting him take off the messy rest of your clothes. Once you were totally naked in front of him, Alfie impatiently pulled your legs apart, tinkering with his trousers for a few moments, before you could sense his throbbing tip rubbing against your entrance, having your hips spontaneously tilt in his direction. All of the air brusquely left your lungs as soon as he filled you with one vigorous thrust, his thick member sank deep into you and he held still for a while, profanities leaving his lips because of that intense delight. Your nails scratched his back multiple times and your legs intertwined behind his back as Alfie gradually increased his peace, he roughly cupped your chin while his other hand rabidly held you in place by your waist, leaving red marks on your flesh. A loud shout erupted from your throat as he furiously reached for a precise spot more than once, so that, prey of your fervent ecstasy, you dragged his face towards yours in order to rapaciously bite his lower lip. “A-alfie” His name echoed through the room and sounded like an unholy prayer coming from you, still that wasn’t enough for him, thus his hips started ramming into yours harder and faster, while he blurted out animalistic noises against your glowing neck. “Louder! Let them hear who you belong to” Alfie was literally growling, still furious about the previous events, he kept mercilessly thrusting into you, producing clamorous thuds with each violent impact, as you threw your head back in pure bliss and continued to scream his name, steadily raising your trembling voice after every lunge. “Good girl, look at me” His fingers grabbed your chin again when he muttered that order with his usual husky voice, and he forced you to move your face enough to capture your irises, blurred by pleasure, with his own, greedy and firm. “Only I am allowed to fuck you like this. Only I can make you scream like this” He never looked away from your half-shut eyes, neither he stopped his frantic movements, while he whispered those arousing words, almost like it was a secret yours to keep; you simply nodded, unable to pronounce real sentences by that time, since you were busy crying out loud, a span away from his nose. Then, all of a sudden, Alfie held both of your wrists in one of his large palms, pinning your arms above your head, against the curtains covering the opaque windows of his office. “I want to feel you tighten around my cock, ‘want you to cum for me again”

His thumb went to ably stroke your clit, but the truth was that his adamant tone alone was enough to drive you over the edge, you finally reached for your second release, as your whole body tensed and your thighs started shaking, still gathered around his solid waist. Alfie slowed down his thrusts while he relished the last sporadic convulsions of your walls, riding the end of his own orgasm and moaning your name with his closed eyes turned to the ceiling. You immediately collapsed onto his toned chest, as he started tenderly rubbing your exhausted shape, both your heavy breaths being the only sound breaking that sudden silence, until you sleepily giggled against his collarbone. “What?” He mumbled while covering the skin of your shoulder with sweet butterfly kisses. “I was just thinking that I’ll never be able to show my face in this office again”

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ikesenlemonadestandstories · 5 years ago

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Blizzard

Happy holiday’s everyone! Today marks the first day of my Holiday Story Extravaganza! Thank you to everyone who jumped into my ask box and came up with these lovely prompts! I’ve had so much fun writing them! Let’s do it again some time!

Master List Here

Request: Sengoku - Mitsuhide - Firewood - Potentially in a cabin by wolf_of_Oshu from AO3 request

Warnings: very general description of frost bite

Blizzard

To say you weren’t happy right now was the understatement of the century. You had been walking all over God’s green earth, still a little unsure as to what you were even supposed to be scouting for in the first place. Your steps began to slow, and your walk turned more into a trudge the longer this seemed to go on.

“What are we even looking for?” You finally asked Mitsuhide.

“I’m afraid I can’t say Mouse.” He responded back to you as he made his way through the forest.

“That’s a pretty terrible response, you know.” Was all you could think of to say.

“I know,” Mitsuhide responded, no hiding the smile in his voice.

“We should probably start looking for firewood and shelter though, how far are you planning on going today?” You asked curiously, looking at the darkening sky.

“Not terribly far, what makes you say that? If I may ask?” Finally, Mitsuhide turned a curious eye on you. Still keeping his stride.

“What if I say I can’t say? What then Fox?” You replied, sticking your tongue out indignantly.

“Then I’ll say we have at least another four hours of walking. You have to give me a good reason to stop Mouse.” He was smirking again as he picked up the pace.

“It just smells like snow.” Your reply was blasé at best. Now wholly uninterested in the topic, hopeful you’d make it to a stopping point before all the wood was damp and a fire impossible.

“It what?” Finally, Mitsuhide stopped, appraising you.

“I don’t know how else to describe it. It just smells like snow. Can’t you tell?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, sniffing the air again for dramatic effect.

“I cannot. How does it smell like snow?” Mitsuhide asked as he began rifling through his bag.

“The air is extra crisp, but it feels wet, yanno? Plus, there are copious amounts of gray clouds rolling in. It’s going to snow. Soon.” You nodded your head, sure there would be a blanket of white covering the forest within the next two hours.

“Come, there’s a hideout just up ahead. If you are certain, it is to snow; there’s no point in freezing.” Mitsuhide stated as he grabbed you by the hand, leading you through the trees.

Sure enough, there was a tiny hut, if you were lucky it would fit both of you comfortably. So far, you hadn’t been fortunate. You sighed, noting how your breath danced in the air of the cabin. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Not super well insulated, is it?” You commented, dropping your bag in one of the corners.

“No, but it will keep us from the elements well enough,” Mitsuhide remarked as he unpacked the large pack he had been carrying around.

After spending more time than you should have arguing about splitting up to get firewood, Mitsuhide finally conceded. You had headed south, back the way you had come from to gather as much usable wood as possible. Having emptied your bag, you now carried it around using it to store and bring everything you collected to keep your arms as free as possible.

Nearly six trips to and from the cabin later, you finally felt as though you had a sizable enough pile of wood to burn for a few days should the storm choose to stick around. Happily, you walked back up through the forest, following the winding pathway you had cut with your numerous trips down the mountainside only to be blasted by the storm you had warned Mitsuhide about two hours ago.

The wind ran straight through you, chilling you to the bone as the snow came down fast and sideways. This was a blizzard, a stupid freaking blizzard, and here you were stuck out in the woods exactly where you hadn’t wanted to be when this storm started. Tucking your bag into your side, you hunkered into the collar of your kimono and cursed the stupid sandals that were so terribly popular in this time period. What you wouldn’t give for some ski pants, a winter jacket, and snow boots right about now.

Unable to see much through the storm, you wandered in what you hoped was the right direction. Looking for any sort of shelter at this point. Sure your wood was a little wet now that the snow was accumulating, but it was better than nothing. If you could find a hole or a cave to hide out in until it slowed down, maybe you’d survive this thing with all your toes.

You weren’t sure how you managed to get so lucky, but you nearly wept when you ran into the side of the cabin. Or what you hoped was your cabin. Visibility was so terrible you hadn’t seen it until it was about three feet in front of your face. Tentatively you swung the door open. Careful not to let it catch the raging wind outside as you slid into the warmth of the cozy cabin.

“Where have you been?” There was a bite to Mitsuhide’s words, and you nearly bit back, teeth chattering as tremors ran through your body. It wasn’t like you had wanted to get stuck in the storm.

One look at the man stops the harsh response you had planned short on your lips. “I got stuck in the storm.” You said flatly, trying to hide the shivers that rocked your body.

“Clearly. I thought you could smell the snow.” His tone was mocking, but his eyes were soft as he led you into the cabin and sat you close to the fire. “You need to get out of those wet clothes, or you’ll freeze to death.”

“Just because I can tell that it’s going to storm, doesn’t mean I know exactly when it’s going to start.” You mumbled, happy to be near the heat the fire provided.

“Here.” Mitsuhide offered you his haori as you peeled the half-frozen, wet garments off your body.

“What?” You asked, not liking the look he was giving you. Looking yourself over quickly to make sure none of your toes or fingers were black with frostbite.

“Nothing.” A blush colored his cheeks as you turned to put on the second outfit you had packed for the mission. Happy to soothe your cold, red, angry skin as you wrap yourself in the heavy garments and the haori you had been offered.

“If you say so. Aren’t you cold without this?” You wondered out loud as you noticed the way he fought tremors of his own.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of being cold.” He argued, stubborn as ever fighting the chatter of his teeth.

“That’s good, would you mind helping me out a little then?” You asked, opening the haori and the giant wool blanket you had found.

“Of course.” Mitsuhide’s smile was soft as he sat down beside you. Happy to wrap an arm around your waist as you curled in close beneath the blanket.

It wasn’t long before you fell asleep beside him. Lulled by the soft crackle of the fire, in direct contrast to the howling of the storm outside. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitushide x reader #ikesen holiday request #ikesen reader insert #mentions of frostbite

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everlarkchristmasgifts · 6 years ago

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Thanks to all the mods putting this Holiday prompt page together! Thank you for all your hard work and contributions to the Tumblr everlark family now and in the past.

A/N: This is part one of a hasty, four-day attempt to multi-part a drabble set for @everlarkchristmasgifts ‘s prompts. It may not get done on time, but they say it’s good to believe in miracles at Christmas, lol.

This part rated G

Thanks to @alliswell21 for giving it a beta read on quick notice.

And… *deep inhale, because why on earth am I trying to butcher one of my favorite stand alone drabbles with a sequel???**… this follows on the events of Pasty White Raisin.

________________________________________________

“Shopping…”

It was twelve days to Christmas. They’d missed Christmas last year. It could’ve been their first Christmas, but Peeta had been too stubborn to let a woman “waste her life” on a washed-up baker twelve years older than her.

She’d won, by the end of the Winter thaw. He’d already been in love, but he’d finally let himself love, and everything that had seemed to mean to him.

Well, everything within the parameters of being a gentleman.

He’d insisted on her making him work for her good favor, and at first it had been a funny game, his insistence that he court her, a delicious, slow romance of soft kisses and interwoven fingers and getting to know each other over conversations, dinners, or during walks. But the game had given him time to reconsider what he might be getting in to.

Which was robbing her of a future she deserved.

So ultimately, he’d come to use the game as a way to buy time to fortify the barriers so strongly she’d be forced to admit she should cut her losses.

And when she’d still refused, he’d cut her losses for her, before the summer heat had waned, with an “I’m sorry, Katniss, this isn’t working for me,” followed instantly by firing her from doing the bakery’s books, which she’d been doing part-time for the low cost wage of a half-dozen cheese buns a week, and refusing to respond to her texts or voicemails.

At Thanksgiving, she’d shown up at his door, asking if they could spend the evening together, talk. Consider reconsidering.

He’d shaken his head and closed the door on her, but not before his face had presented a few moments of unmasked regret and longing.

She’d almost gone to a hardware store for an ax to chop his door off its hinges.

When she’d called her uncle Haymitch in tears from her car, still sitting in the bakery’s parking lot, he’d agreed chopping down Peeta’s door was an acceptable strategy, except there wouldn’t be a hardware store open on Thanksgiving Day.

So this Christmas season— the Christmas that could have been their second Christmas, or at least their first— just a year after she’d chosen him, the rejection had left its mark on her. She couldn’t face flying out west to spend Christmas with her sister and mother. Would not be able to muster the emotional energy necessary to pretend she was okay for a whole evening spent with her friends, despite their invites.

No, she and Haymitch were going to spend it getting drunk on vodka, eating crock-pot roast and microwaved mashed potatoes, and watching either a marathon of The Profit, or Rocky, depending on which one of them won the coin toss.

So with twelve days to Christmas, Katniss Everdeen decided it was time to say goodbye once and for all.

Well, twelve times, for all.

Twelve ways to say she loved him.

Twelve ways to say goodbye.

Twelve ways to say both at the same time.

Twelve days, twelve gifts.

And it was going to start with a Thursday, lunch hour shopping trip.

“Kat, where you going?”

Odair was the afternoon manager for the restaurant side of the brewery operation where she was a bookeeper. He’d stepped so quickly in her way she almost couldn’t stop before walking into him.

His hands here clasped behind his back and he was grinning. His up-to-something look.

“Lunch,” she said, guarded.

“Right. It’s treason to buy lunch from somewhere other than here. And anyway, you eat lunch from a brown bag. Every day. You’re so frugal, you probably even reuse the same bag until it’s toast. No, Katniss Everdeen looks like a woman on a mission.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Then it would make sense to get out of my way.”

He studied her as though he could read her secrets if he looked hard enough.

“You off to see that baker guy of yours? Because I would love one of his everything bagels, and Annie likes the peanut butter chip cookies.”

Katniss swallowed and fought off a wave of pain.

“No, I’m going to the mall to do some Christmas shopping.”

“Oh, perfect then,” like magic, his hand was suddenly in front of her face, waving a hundred dollar bill, as though he already knew where she was heading and was just enjoying teasing her about the other, “I need something pretty for Annie. I was thinking a necklace.”

Katniss felt an urge to punch him, but started to step around him instead. He stepped in her way again, grin back on his face.

“Come on, help a guy out. The last time I picked out jewelry for her, it was a total flop, and you remember it.”

“Finnick, the only reason it flopped, was because you thought it’d be funny to give her a used pendant with someone else’s initials on it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. That thing was an antique. And it was beautiful, and I knew the emeralds would set off her eyes. And anyway, the first initial matched.”

Katniss just shook her head; his problems were his, thankfully.

“Have to go, bye.”

He snagged her hand, yanking her momentum to a stop and then slapping the bill into her palm.

“Just in case something jumps out at you.”

“You realize how terrible it is to ask another woman to shop for your girlfriend.”

Finnick shrugged. “You’re not another woman, you’re basically family. And anyway, I already have her other gifts bought. I just want a wildcard.”

Katniss scowled.

“Fine, but I’m taking two hours for lunch, without losing the extra hour of pay, and you have to cover in case someone needs a bank run.”

Odair winked, then walked off with a, “Thanks, Katniss. You’re the second-best.”

Katniss shoved the bill into her jean’s pocket, so it could help her debit card burn a hole into the denim.

___

She knew what the first gift for Peeta would be, so she parked near the entrance closest to the woolen shop. Unfortunately, that entrance was the least used, and its parking more like the back forty. With Winter being stubborn about providing snow for Christmas, and the mall neglecting to plow that section, by the time she was inside, her feet were wet and freezing from slogging through patches of standing slush. There was a small hunting shop just inside the entrance, one of her favorite stores, and the moment she saw a pair of boots she’d been drooling over for six months on sale for forty percent off, she decided that if she was going to loosen up on the financial reigns enough that week to buy herself a sense of closure about Peeta, she might as well give herself that one treat.

Fifteen minutes later, she was stalking to the sweater shop in knee-high, front lace brown leather boots with reinforced heels and toes, all weather tread, and Gortex lined. And to make it better, her toes were swaddled in thick, high-tech, sweat-wicking winter socks.

She was even smiling by the time she got to her intended destination.

But then as soon as she was inside, her heart sank.

Peeta’s first present was a sweater she’d been eying for him for almost a month, folded on a center display table just inside the entrance. Imported from Ireland, it was a heavy, rough-finish wool sweater, that had a faded quality to its blue. The first time she’d seen it, she’d wanted him in it. Wanted to see how it contrasted with his light hair, complimented his blue eyes, hugged his shoulders, and layered over the waist of his jeans. Back then, she had still be holding hope he’d snap out of it, that maybe Christmas morning they’d be opening presents together and she’d get to see him in it, run her hands along down his arms to sense the feel of it, rest her palms against the scratchy texture of the wool, but feel the warmth and firmness of his shoulders and chest beneath.

But now, she wouldn’t get that pleasure. He would have the sweater. Hopefully, he would wear it. But regardless, she’d never get to see it.

If things went according to plan, someone else would.

She looked through the stack, finding his size and then laying it out, unfolded, over the rest. Her fingers stroked along the back and inside of the collar, where a beautiful, muted orange line of silky fabric had been sewn in to help prevent the roughness of the wool from rubbing against the sensitive flesh of his neck. It was even almost Peeta’s favorite shade of orange.

A friendly young clerk came up, asking if she could be of help. Her bubbling mood was a knife-stab to Katniss’ heart, so Katniss told her she had other shopping to do and was in a hurry. The girl agreed to wrap it and have it waiting for Katniss to pay for and pick up on her way back out of the mall.

The next stop was Eddie Bauer, where she had a clerk box a wheat-colored Henley on a bed of black tissue, hand it over long enough for Katniss to finger press a dog ear into the collar where the top button would normally be, and then finish with the full-on Christmas wrapping treatment. Her first hour was almost up.

Neiman Marcus covered two more gifts, six depending on how one counted, and fortune favored her in a special find that saved her a side trip to Hot Topic. Plus, the clerks there were fast wrappers. She had thirty minutes left for this trip, and, for this trip, only two more items to go.

The most expensive.

A boutique, ultra-high end men’s store cost her savings account exactly eight hundred, forty-seven dollars and sixteen cents. The gift wrapping took absolutely forever. But everything about the work, from the paper, to the simple ribbon, to the ridiculously expensive, and large, carry out bag, was immaculate. It almost made her cry.

It did make her cry, actually. Because signing her name to a payment slip that size made it crystal clear just what she had committed herself to do, and that she would not be the one to see the end result.

But she made a quick stop at Zales, saw what she instantly knew was the right call. It was just shy of two hundred and fifty after tax, but today was her day to spend on others, and Annie and Finnick were good friends, so she pocketed the hundred for her piggy bank, and paid for it out of her checking.

_____

“You’re late. Nice boots.”

“What?”

Finnick rooted around in the Zales bag she handed him for the necklace box.

“You’re late. You said two hours. It’s been a hundred and twenty-seven minutes. Did you stop at the bakery and bring us the bagels?”

“I didn’t have time.” Thankfully.

“Then I’m docking you the seven minutes,” he said without missing a beat, and when he finally got the red velvet box open, his teasing fell away into a look of confusion, and then a threat of real emotion. “Katniss, how did you…” He shook his head and the red headed prankster looked like he might actually hug her.

“Call it fate,” she said, and then started walking back to her office. “And if you dock me those seven minutes, our next limited run is going to be called Odair Pale, ‘cause that’ll be the vat you’d drown in.”

_____

Katniss was out the brewery doors at 5:00pm sharp. She managed to stop by the barber shop and the youth initiative before they closed by six, and that left only one purchase to go.

First, a stop at the bank.

Then, her final stop at the pawn shop.

The old man who owned the shop had held the item for her, and all that remained was for her to bring in the cash for it.

He was sitting at the counter like he was waiting for her— a sale like that, she was probably the one single person he was waiting for that day— and produced the item immediately, including the silky box that went with it, dull and stained by time. She carefully counted out the money, and he carefully wrote her out a receipt in his shaky handwriting.

Pawn shops didn’t gift wrap, but since it was raining, he found a used plastic bag from the back and gave her that to carry it away in.

It felt heavy, the plastic in her fingers as she walked back to her car.

Heavy like an ending.

Heavy like time moving on without her.

_____

By seven, the drizzle was threatening to turn to sleet with the evening’s cooling temperature. Katniss shivered a little, trying to shrink further into her jacket, and was even more glad for her new boots, because the slush in the alley behind the bakery was even worse than it had been at the mall. The windows above her, on the bakery’s second floor were lit; Peeta was at home, no surprise. He’d be watching television, maybe. Or even finishing dinner. Within an hour, he’d start thinking about bed.

For the six or seven months he’d let her into his life, she’d learned his habits fast. They’d never shared a bed and never spent a night together, because he wouldn’t allow it— because he was going to ‘do things right’— but they’d spent plenty of time together. By the Summer, they’d been seeing each other every day. And she’d found so much joy in the not rushing it. It had given them time to fully appreciate the excitement of almost innocent kisses and the silly, mutual attempts to find opportunities for them to be less than strictly innocent, the almost stolen thrill of sitting just close enough knees might touch, or arms might press. The silences and times where they were just around each other, without having to feel pressure that being out on a date, or on a walk, or going to the bookstore together was somehow really only posturing for a race they were supposed to complete by end of the day.

She knew his hours.

Knew not to text him after seven thirty.

Knew he didn’t actually like texting at all, and preferred a phone call, if a personal visit wasn’t possible.

Knew which corner of his couch he liked to lean into when watching television. Knew where his mugs were, and his glasses. Knew which drawer had the silverware, which hall closet had the extra hand towels for the bathroom. Knew he recycled cans, but often forgot to recycle plastic. Knew which episodes of Big Bang Theory were his favorites.

Each step up the steel-grate steps up to Peeta’s second-floor entry, brought another ‘knew’ to her mind, digging the knife a little deeper.

But she kept going, careful to duck a little near the top in case he happened to be at the kitchen sink window, and then leaning the box with the wool sweater against his door, with a note taped to it.

—Don’t open until six on Christmas Eve—

Just as carefully, she crept back down and then took up a position in the blackness behind the dumpster. A pocketful of little garden stones served as her ammunition, and she chucked three at his door with perfect aim.

From the shadows, she watched Peeta’s face appear at the window, and then a moment later, light came flooding out from his doorway. He saw the present right away, but looked around first to see who was there.

He called her name out and for a second she thought maybe he was able to see her after all, but after a few seconds of him leaning out over the rail and looking both ways down the alley, it was clear he didn’t. He came back to the present, gave it a look over, and then went back inside.

She didn’t know whether to feel honored or sad that after a gift appeared for him, the only person he thought to call out in question to was her.

#everlark #everlarkchristmasgifts #day one: christmas shopping #by dandeliononfire #fan fic #2018 #submission

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starlightseb · 6 years ago

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crying in the club • leroy sané

A/N ~ this turned out wayyy longer than I planned and I had to miss out how I was going to end it so let me know if you want a part two! Also, I am currently taking requests!

Synopsis: clubbing seems to be the best cure for her break up woes but it doesn’t go to plan so someone familiar helps her out

Words: 1660

The breakup hit her so hard that her usual tactic of curling up in bed with a tub of ice-cream whist watching a rom-com just wasn’t going to cut it. Her self confidence had taken a massive knock- she needed to feel good about herself again. So she rummaged around in her make up bags, picking out the most daring colours for her eyes and lips whilst styling her hair up in a look she rarely ever dared to do. The dress she wore clung to her body, flaunting her curves and the heels she would normally avoid due to their uncomfortableness were strapped on around her ankles to complete her look.

She was never a fan of the idea of going out clubbing and had conjured up excuses in the past to avoid going out with her friends. However, tonight felt like the right time. She needed to forget and have fun and the club seemed the best place for that.

The lights of the club flashed and moved across the dance floor sporadically, causing her to feel disorientated and dizzy and she walked into the club. The music blared annoyingly in her ears, it was just noise. However, she shook all these annoyances off as she headed towards the bar. Her lack of alcoholic knowledge led her to just order what the person before her did. Which proved to be a mistake because the liquid burned her throat, causing her to have a coughing fit.

Deciding that the alcohol wasn’t for her, she headed out onto the dance floor. She may not be able to handle alcohol but dancing was definitely something that she was capable of. No longer was the music an annoyance, it was her guidance. She let the music dictate her moves and the way she swayed her hips, she felt electrified by the music and for the first time tonight she felt content.

That was until she felt unfamiliar arms snake around her waist. She froze immediately, the feeling of uncomfortableness overwhelming her new found happiness.

“Hey there.” A male voice spoke in a raspy tone, his hot breath hitting her neck and the strong smell of alcohol filling her nostrils.

“I’m not interested.” She spat back, trying to get the mans hands off of her.

The man suddenly stood back and she turned around to face him. He was visibly drunk. Very drunk.

“You’re not my type anyway.” He slurred before staggering off into the crowd and out of her sight.

She didn’t know why, but that just seemed to trigger her. She could feel the lump forming in her throat and her hands beginning to shake. She suddenly became aware of all the sweaty bodies around her and she just had to escape.

She pushed her way out of the commotion of people, pushing and pushing until she could see the exit. It felt like a weight getting lifted off of her shoulders when she stepped out into the fresh air of outdoors but she could still feel the tears trickling down her face, sticking to the skin off her cheeks.

She ran as fast as she could in the heels which were beginning to give her throbbing blisters, until she couldn’t cope with the pain anymore. She collapsed onto the pavement and fiddled around with the straps of her shoes until they came off. She aggressively threw them to the side and burst into a state of frantic tears and sobs. A few people walked by but chose to ignore her, despite her constant cries.

The night was made even worse when a rattle of thunder sounded before a downfall of aggressive rain. It bounced off of the pavement and the skin of her body. She just continued to cry because she had never felt this alone.

Leroy needed to get some odds and ends from the shop since he had forgotten to after training. He casually drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the catchy song playing from the radio. His relaxed nature came to an end when it started to rain heavily. ‘Typical Manchester weather’ he thought to himself as he leaned forward to get a better view of what was in front of him.

He steadily slowed the car as he approached the traffic lights emitting a dark shade of red. He looked around as he waited for the lights to turn green and spotted a body curled up on the ground, surrounded by the aggressive rain. When she looked up, he immediately recognised her face.

Without thinking, he rolled down the window and shouted her name. She responded by jumping up and looking at him questioningly.

“Come on, get in the car then.” Leroy shouted at her, unlocking the car doors. She hesitantly walked up to the car and opened the door, climbing into the passenger seat. She was shivering frantically and was dripping wet. With shaking hands, she reached for the seatbelt and put it on.

“There is an extra jacket in the back seat.” Leroy pointed out before starting up the engine again as the lights went from red to amber to green.

“T-thanks.” she stuttered and reached behind to grab the jacket and placed it over her bare shoulders.

“What were you even doing out there?” Leroy questioned as he glanced over at the club photographer that he saw almost everyday. She always looked well presented and happy, but that was in complete contrast to the girl he was seeing right now. Her make up was washed off her face; her eyes were red and puffy; her hair was all over the place.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” she answered in a cold tone, hugging the jacket closer to her body.

“Oh okay.” Leroy got the message and focused back on the driving.

He pulled over at a supermarket and looked over at her cautiously. “I’m just going to get some things from here. Do you need anything?”

“Uh, some chocolate and some wet wipes to get rid of my make up would be nice.” she shyly answered, playing with the buttons on the jacket.

“Okay.” Leroy jumped out of the car and raced inside the supermarket to avoid the rain the best he could. He picked up all that he needed plus the chocolate and wet wipes before paying and running back to his car.

When he got back into his car, he was welcomed by the sound of cries. She was sobbing again and was looking the other way. Leroy awkwardly placed the chocolate and wet wipes on her lap, earning a muffled ‘thank you’.

“I don’t mean to be intrusive or anything but are you okay? You’re really worrying me.” Leroy asked, not wanting to start driving again until he was sure that she wasn’t going to suffocate because of the lack of air she was probably getting because of her sobbing.

“Don’t worry, I’m just being overdramatic about a breakup. It’s nothing serious.” She answered with a sniffle, opening the packet of wet wipes and using one to rub at her face.

“You’re obviously hurt by it though. Do you want me and the City boys to sort him out? I’m pretty sure they would be up for it.” Leroy offered, earning a laugh from her in response.

“As much as I would love to see that, you all have more important things to focus on.” she picked at her nails nervously before speaking again. “In fact, could you maybe not mention this to the other guys, or anyone at City? I don’t want them knowing what a mess I made of myself... I kinda want to keep my job.”

“Of course. It will stay between us.” Leroy nodded before starting the engine again.

The rest of the car ride was silent apart from the radio and Leroy asking for directions to her house. When Leroy pulled up outside her house, she hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Before I go, can I ask you a question?” she bit her lip nervously waiting for Leroy’s response.

“Sure, go for it.” Leroy shrugged.

“Do you ever feel like you are not good enough?”

Leroy thought for a minute before answering. “Yeah, of course. I mean, not being included in the squad for the World Cup and struggling to make it into the City team sometimes this season, has had me feeling that way sometimes.”

“I’m sorry about that. I can’t imagine how difficult it was watching Germany during the World Cup.” She looked over at him sympathetically.

“It’s alright. I got over it eventually, plus it has only made me more determined to prove that I am deserving to be a part of both teams.” Leroy explained, meeting her gaze. “Is that how you feel right now? Not good enough?”

“Well yeah, a little bit. I mean, my ex said some brutal things when he broke up with me earlier and I haven’t been quite able to shake them off. I know that isn’t as confidence destroying as your situation but I can be quite overdramatic.”

“Well don’t listen to his stupid ass because you are perfect...” Leroy inwardly cursed himself for letting that slip out. “perfectly fine.” he corrected himself.

She blushed at his words as he cleared his throat awkwardly. She shuffled in her seat before undoing her belt.

“Well thank you for everything tonight, I appreciate it.” she smiled kindly at him.

“No problem at all and if your ex reaches out to you again, remind him that it’s your job to photograph professional athletes and they are perfectly capable of kicking his ass.” She laughed at his statement before climbing out of his car and walking back to her house.

Leroy smiled, proud of himslef for mangaing to improve her mood. And a part of him was itching with excitment over the idea of seeing her again at training tomorrow.

#footballer imagine #leroy sane #leroy sane imagine #manchester city #football imagine

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ja9doeswhole30 · 6 years ago

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Before-Whole30 Baseline

One of the reasons I kept putting off committing to a firm eating plan like Whole30 is that I consider myself a pretty healthy eater. I’ve always anticipated that forcing myself to be 100% compliant with a strict plan would send me into a deprivation mentality, and that being a ~90% whole-food eater with a little wiggle room for other stuff wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Nonetheless, here we are. I’ve bought into the idea of a 30-day reset of eating only the “right” foods. As my start date approaches, I wanted to focus on the ways in which I’ve been eating well and can build on during Whole30.

I cook at home. A lot. Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved to cook. Eating is awesome, so why wouldn’t someone want to participate in the creation of the food and make it exactly to spec?! My early attempts as a teen mostly consisted of eggs, pancakes, certain traditional Jewish holiday foods, and cookies. I also messed around with salads, sandwiches, smoothies, etc. (more “food assemblage” than actual “cooking,” if we’re being technical). Then during college I graduated to vegetable stir-fries and sauteed pasta dishes, and I made a lot of marinated chicken breast on my Foreman grill. When the hubs and I moved in together we started incorporated baked salmon once a week along with the grilled chicken, turkey sausage, and turkey meatloaf that became our staples.

Still, I didn’t realize just how much we ate out in NYC until we moved to the suburbs. Pre-kids, we’d pick something up from the pizza place one night during the week, and perhaps another weeknight we’d meet friends or coworkers for dinner and drinks. And the weekends inevitably involved eating out in some fashion or another. These days I cook dinner every weeknight pretty religiously, and that way weekend restaurant visits and take-out meals really are a special treat for everyone.

I’m also kind of grumpy and cheap when it comes to grocery store shortcut foods - no cooked rotisserie chickens or other prepared foods from the deli counter for us. That said, I understand that this is often an optimal alternative to true take-out food for people who are too busy to cook. But it’s not like I’m relying on them and need to cut them out now, which is good.

Finally, I’ve almost always packed and brought my own lunch. Occasionally I’ll treat myself to some sushi (since no one else in my family likes it) as a special Friday lunch, but otherwise I eat a homemade salad or leftovers from the night before.

Hence, I’m intimidated by the menu requirements of the Whole30, and the prospect of making sure my meals are compliant while also satisfying for my family of picky eaters, but it’s not like this is my first rodeo in the kitchen.

When I do eat outside food, I don’t go overboard. The sushi aside, when eating in a restaurant I usually pick something sensible like a salad with lean protein. If I indulge in a sandwich, I make sure to stop when I’m full (usually eating around half & saving the other half for the next day). In my youth I was a total glutton whose brain used the “oh, we’re eating out!” signal as an excuse to stuff myself, since it was a “treat”.

I guess it’s also worth mentioning here that when we eat out, it’s pretty strictly Greek diner, Italian, Thai, or Chinese - i.e. somewhere I can eek out a decent meal (even if it means ordering steamed veggies and tofu with brown rice while everyone else has saucy deliciousness). The only time we even consider a typical “fast food” joint is on road trips, and even there you can always get a salad.

Obviously, I’m not perfect. My willpower is shit when it comes to a nice diner bread basket or a steaming tray of garlic knots. But, in contrast to my youth, I’m able to have half a slice of challah, or one garlic knot, and stop there. This doesn’t really help with Whole30 since all that stuff is off-limits, but if I used to eat a lot of something, and trained myself to eat just a little, by extension eating none of it isn’t such a big stretch.

I don’t eat after dinner (anymore). Because I have small children, we eat dinner around 6:30, finish by 7:00, and have them in bed by 8:00. A few months ago, I found myself picking at randomness in the kitchen during the evening cleanup. I realized that I was rushing through dinner, too distracted facilitating everyone else’s eating to slow down and feel myself to satiety. Thus, a few hours later I was either still hungry, or just antsy and unsatisfied enough to pick at nonsense. For the last several weeks, though, I’ve been more strict about dinner being the time to eat the good foods that’ll keep me full until the morning. (I say those exact words to my kids every single night; may as well take my own advice, right?)

I only booze occasionally. Last January I basically gave up drinking alcohol. Every once in a while I’ll have a glass of wine or a beer at a party, but between the negative effect on my triglycerides, the extra calories I don’t need, and the fact that I have small children who wake up me at the asscrack of dawn even if I have a headache, these occasions have been fewer and farther between. The logic also falls somewhere along the lines of “what’s the point of having just one drink?” The other night I drank (a whole beer!) for the first time in over 2 months, and while it was delicious the buzz kept me up too late and I spent all of yesterday feeling sluggish and exhausted. Not worth it. So I know I can go 30 days without booze, no problem.

I exercise almost every day. I know there’s a lot of speculation about whether exercise is actually good for weight loss - you burn a lot of calories but that just makes you hungrier, or you pat yourself on the back and take more liberties with crappy food choices, blah blah blah. All I know is that I got into the habit of working out every morning and I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I gave that up. My usual routine is 20-30 minutes on my elliptical, plus some strength exercises from a 30-day challenge chosen by my sister-in-law and her friends. It might be psychosomatic but I’m convinced the endorphins help me manage stress and have energy throughout the day. Plus, knowing I have to get up early to get the workout in before the kids get up is usually enough motivation to get into bed at a decent hour at night.

The Whole30 book warns that adjusting to the program may affect athletic performance, so I’m going to proceed with caution the first few days. It so happens that we’re almost at the end of a thigh challenge, so the first day of Whole30 I’ll need to do 40 leg swings, 45 side leg lifts, and 45 side lunges (per leg). The next day it’s 50 side lunges, 55 plie squats, and 45 inner thigh pulses. So maybe I’ll skip the elliptical one of those days, or do it as a quick 10-15 minute warmup instead of a full cardio session. Regardless, according to the book exercising means you need to eat an extra (small) meal, and for my money that’s enough reason in and of itself to keep exercising.

So there you have it. Stay tuned for my next post in which I bitch about all the reasons Whole30 is going to be insanely hard. D:

#whole30 #whole30 baseline #nutrition #healthy eating #foodblr

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tenecity · 6 years ago

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room mates—a wang ziyi ff

summary: yn and ziyi become roommates, or do they become something more?

genre: fluff, a little angst

word count: 5627/9270 lolrip

author’s note: i spent three weeks on this ripriprip jadlsjh this was supposed to be for Ziyi’s birthday but it’s already kun’s yikes. also we’ll see how well this goes and maybe the part 2 will be up soon? yea

—one of two

“How about this one?” Zhangjing points out one of the sofas, but it’s round and yellow. Yellow. Yellow, of all colours.

Your apartment’s sofa has pretty much broken down, but you and Ziyi, your roommate, haven’t got as much the time or resources to go buy one. Zhangjing offered to pay first, since he and Yanjun had a pretty steady income, and you smiled in gratitude as you readily took up his offer.

You didn’t know he was the worse person to ask for opinions on a sofa. He loved the bright colours, like red, orange, yellow, bright green. You wanted to slam your head against the wall.

But well, this one was quite pretty. It was in a half crescent shape, it’s aesthetically pleasing, it was unique but it was yellow.

Ziyi hated yellow. Too bright for his eyes, bad for the body, blah blah blah, something like that. You don’t really pay attention when he goes on about the good vitamins and minerals and healthy things for the body, you simply bob your head along and listen to him nag at you, in one ear and out the other, while you made him some coffee.

Coffee’s bad for the body too, and he would have preferred fruit juice, but he couldn’t resist your perfect latte could he? Plus, he has quite a few assignments to do, burning the midnight oil is pretty much a daily thing now. So he would take one, taking in small sips as he continued his rant.

People would think Ziyi is a quiet, soft spoken, shy boy. Try living with him. He nags about everything and anything. A perfectionist at heart, one hair on the couch is not in place and he would fuss over it for hours. It is almost like hell, and it would be, if not for the fact that Ziyi is a perfect angel and a wonderful roommate. No troubles at all.

“YN! I’m talking to you! Can you please give me some attention?” Zhangjing whines as he glares at you.

You roll your eyes. 24? More like 14.

“Sorry!” You whine back, earning a chuckle for him.

“So the yellow one, yes or no?”

“No. Ziyi hates yellow.”

“Ziyi, Ziyi, must it always be about Ziyi?” Zhangjing asks, fingers skimming over the soft yellow material.

“Well yea, because if you haven’t noticed, he lives with me. So his preferences matter,” You flick Zhangjing’s forehead and he yelps in pain, pouting. “Unlike your opinions. Let’s see some more. Zhangjing, hurry up, I don’t care if you have short legs, stop whining! I still’ve got to go to the cafe to fetch Ziyi later,” You say airily as you brush past the sunshine sofa, legs immediately moving towards the navy blue section.

—FLASHBACK

“Yanjun!” You yell from across the yard, waving at him crazily, a grin ingrained on your face as you finally see a familiar face amidst the strangers.

He sees you, and soon enough, he is crashing into you as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheek against the side of your head as his laughter booms in your ears. “Nice to finally see you, idiot.”

“Not the nicest thing to say to your best friend, after having not seen her for 2 years, but yea okay, I would take that as a decent greeting,” You retort back playfully, punching his arm as he pulls you in for another hug, dimples deeper than ever.

As your chin hooks onto his shoulder again, you catch a glimpse of his awkward group of tall friends, hanging aimlessly behind Yanjun, unsure of what to make of such a passionate greeting.

Yanjun simply laughs at them, fingers intertwined with yours, as he leads all of you to a nearby cafe, his chatter rambling non-stop, his friends all raising their eyebrows at such a rare sight.

Coffee aroma sweeps the place and it welcomes you heartily, as you take a deep breath of its scent. It was comforting, something familiar, something, something like home. Yanjun smiles at you, his irises shining with understanding, his lips pulling into a smirk as he claps himself on the back for knowing just what to do to make you feel comfortable.

Sipping coffee, you mostly tune out to their endless chatter, your eyes roaming the cafe. A critique and a perfectionist personalities added together, your sharp eyes search for something to criticise.

For example: The place isn’t that clean, stray mugs lying on the tables, newspapers strewn on the couches. The couches being brown doesn’t brighten up the atmosphere, making it seem dull and monotonous, rather than classy or light hearted. The vintage pictures on the wall...seemed out of place to say the least. Perhaps a picture of the turquoise waves crashing onto a beach would have suited the cafe better.

Service was...mediocre. Not slow, not fast either, the waiters also seemed to be slacking, seeing how they’ve failed to tidy the finished cups and plates.

“Ziyi! Ziyi come over here for a bit.” Yanjun waves over one of the waiters.

Tall, sharp features, which don’t fit his soft smile or gentle eyes. His hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, carefully styled up and braided, looking smart and neat, which is not the exact look you usually see on ponytailed guys.

His lips curve upwards just a little as he holds up his hand and clears the mugs on the empty table, walking back behind the counter.

It is only when he puts them into the sink, and thoroughly washed them, does he come over to Yanjun, taking a seat next to the cackling man.

Muscular, no. Lean yes, you think as you mentally tick and cross the respective criterias, noting how his muscles just peek under his black attire, his pale hands flaunt obvious veins that run up and over his wrists and bones, disappearing into his biceps.

“Ziyi! Meet my childhood friend, YN.” The corners of Ziyi’s eyes crinkle as he politely stretches out his hand, his warm palm wrapping around yours as he gives you a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you, YN. I’m Ziyi.” He retracts his hand, his lips parting again as he forms more words.

“What course do you take?”

His smooth voice nearly silences everyone out, as he politely makes conversation with you, words leading the both of you to an engaging discussion, in which you find out that he likes dogs, music, rap and the gym, and that he preferred fruit juices to coffees, but this was the only cafe around and he needed a job; and that he had a dorm and yes Yanjun, okay, and no, not at all, he didn’t mind you being his room mate at all, but only if you’re comfortable being his room mate, of course.

Long story short, you found his awkward, yet amicable and steady aura endearing, and before you knew it, your luggages were sent to his apartment, and voila, the two of you became two peas in a pod, nearly inseparable as the both of you spend nearly all 24 hours together, because as it is, he takes psychology as well.

Your fingers tap against the counter, your body leaning against the wooden structure.

The cafe is nearly empty now, closing times are fast approaching as night fall descends, and the streetlights glow brighter in contrast to the dark background.

The only sound in the cafe, was the sound of water rushing from the tap, an occasional pause as Ziyi scrubs the cups, his face relaxing with each finished cup as he nears the end of his shift, his eyes ever so often shifting towards yours, only to turn back to his work as he sees your raised eyebrows.

“You aren’t even supposed to do the dishes this week. Can’t you like, force the others do it too?” You complain as you kick a stray pebble on the sidewalk, the two of you trudging home after a long day, the apartment just a couple of minutes away.

He shrugs, as he always does. “Well, it doesn’t matter who does it right? So long as the job gets done.”

You bite your cheek in frustration, begging yourself to not spill another word. The last time you had complained about this, him sacrificing his time to wash the dishes that his colleagues were supposed to do, the two of you had gotten into a heated argument.

—FLASHBACK

“Ziyi, I don’t get it. Just let the others do it! What’s so difficult about letting the rest do what they are supposed to do? They are paid to wash the dishes too, they are paid to close the shop, they are paid to finish their entire shift, and not leave half an hour earlier! It’s irresponsible of them, and you helping them cover, isn’t what a good colleague should do.” You grit your teeth as you spit out the words, arms folded as hot, searing rage cutting through your body, the anger like boiling water in a kettle; too hot, that it could possibly explode.

This was the one and only criticism you had of Ziyi. He was so selfless, so giving, so other-centred, that he became passive. He didn’t stand up for himself, he allowed others to step over him and use him, on the basis that they knew he would do things for them.

And you hated it. You hated it, because you knew, Ziyi had so many things to do. Basketball, studies, projects, assignments. Knowing Ziyi, he expects himself to be perfect in each and every one of those areas, but let’s face it, Ziyi is not a genius.

In order to be as perfect as he wanted himself to be, he needed time, time to practice, time to revise, time to think, time for himself. And this extra time after work was taxing, and on most days, he couldn't sleep until after 4am, and he needed to be up the next day at 8am.

No matter how healthy his lifestyle might be, his body will never keep up. It needs time to rest, it needs time to relax. His body’s defences weakened as he abused the strength of it daily, pushing it far beyond its limits, and you hated him for doing that, you hated this side of him; always others, never him.

“YN, stop it. Why can’t I just do it for them? It doesn’t matter who does it right? So long as the job gets done. As colleagues we should help each other out, maybe they have something to do-”

“Yea, like going to the club-”

He holds out his hand, stopping you, eyes squeezed shut, before a fierce glare replaced his usual softness when they reopen; jaw set as it tightens, his fingers curling inwards slightly as he tries to maintain his steady voice.

“It doesn’t matter where they go. I don’t even understand why you’re making such a big fuss about it. You’re not even the one doing it-”

“Yea, but you are the one who’s doing it, and if you haven’t noticed, I have to wait for you to finish and-”

“Well then don’t! Go home first if you’re so tired, and go and rest first! You don’t have to wait for me.” His bitter words sting you like a slap on the face, the sensation fueling the anger.

“Fine! I don’t even know why we are arguing over this. Why are you so upset? Over such a small matter? Wang Ziyi, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m just concerned, and I don’t want you to overwork, that’s all. Why must you be so emotional and uptight about it?” You’re shocked for the most part, and it is evident, obvious enough at least, for Ziyi to realise his unintended outburst, and his hard expression softens slightly.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“I know you’re stressed. I know, Ziyi. We all are. But don’t take it out on me, okay? You can rant about it to me, talk to me about your struggles, and I would gladly listen. But don’t take out your frustrations out on me, okay? I….I don’t like it.”

He scratches the back of his head, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I….I’m sorry. I...I guess I’m just stressed and there’s just so much to do, so little time…” His head hangs low as he buries his head in his fingers, his body sliding down against the wall, his large figure suddenly compressed to become so small, and so vulnerable.

His fingers thread his long locks as he looks back up, tears in his eyes, a mess, a whole, full-on mess, and yet in the moonlight, he had seemed ethereal, so ethereal, you were almost jealous, if not for the fact that the urge to reach out and hug him overpowered that envy.

Your hands outstretched, you crouch before him and he nuzzles his face into your neck, warm tears sliding down your smooth skin, staining them with hurt, pain and stress; helplessness radiating off his body.

It was an awkward position, your small body unable to envelope his entire being, but you radiated security and comfort, and Ziyi took refuge in that, his fingers tracing along your waist as his arms locked around them, pulling you in closer.

Apologies flowed in a never ending stream, and you could only hush him as you sat up slightly on the bed, his head on your shoulder, his eyelids drooping heavily as exhaustion overwhelmed him.

You fall prey to the same tiredness, your head knocking against his as your head droops, fingers still locked in his hair.

Soft pitter patter sounds from the window pane and you look out at the gloomy sky, the reddish and pink hues disappearing as darkness takes over. The city is still lively, bustling with life as people hustle, trying to seek shelter from the drops of rain.

Your eyes look up to the sky. Definitely doesn’t look like it’s going to be a light drizzle; more like a whole, full on rainstorm.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” The soothing voice crackles from over the phone, as your pan sizzles with oil.

“Yea, I’ll be fine.”

“Ziyi’s going to be home?” You can hear the familiar crunch and laugh quietly at the other boy’s antics.

“Yea.” You hate lying, but you really didn’t want to trouble Zhangjing and Yanjun again.

Zhangjing hums in reply. “If he isn’t home soon, I’m only one call away-”

“Zhangjing, please. It’s as if I haven’t heard enough of you for today.”

He snorts indignantly, and groans as if stabbed in the heart. A quick goodbye, he hangs up, the dying sizzling sounds from the pan softening as the oil burns into a unmovable layer of grease. The gas knob is turned, and the fire blows out, as you trudge to your room, trying hard not to wince at the low boom in the distance.

Clamping your teeth down on your chapped lips, you pull the grey blankets up to your knees as you pull them to your chest, curling yourself into a tight ball. Buried head in the sheets, you try counting to ten, and then you try counting sheep, and then you try whispering reassuring words to yourself, but it doesn’t work.

The lump in your throat stays as your hands get clammy, your ears hurting from the pounding of your heart.

Your breaths become rapid and shallow as you struggle for oxygen, as if Zeus was tightening his lightning bolts around your neck, the rough edges burning your skin, red rimmed open wounds obvious.

He twists the ends of the lightning and you nearly choke, and your hand moves to your throat, trying to remove the lump in it by grazing your fingertips over your skin, but the lump remains and only grows bigger.

It’s starting to get scary. The lightning flashes right outside your window and you squeeze your eyes shut, allowing the blanket to cover your face, the thick material simply not thick enough to block out the roaring thunder outside.

It seems like Zeus just wants you dead.

Gulping, you turn as you pull the covers over your ears, trying to even out your breathing, taking in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, but then the lack of oxygen becomes to much, and the breaths return to their usual state and you inwardly groan.

One hour, maybe two, pass, and the storm doesn’t cease, neither does your panicking state calm down.

Then, the click comes from the door, and your eyes flutter close as you mutter a quick prayer.

“YN?” The tranquil voice roams from the living room to your room and your vision starts to blur. The voice wavers with breathlessness, as if the person had just ran a marathon.

“YN?”

He finds you huddled under the sheets and quietly changes out, your breathing finally evening out as you inhale his herbal scent and take in his hushing presence.

Dressed in your favourite shirt, his favorite shirt actually, which became your favourite, because his scent lingered on it stronger than the other shirts, and some comfortable, cotton gym pants, he slides in next to you, and you turn, wrapping your arms around his torso, allowing your tears to finally drop.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Zhangjing or Yanjun weren’t going to be here?” The gentle words fan softly over the shell of your ear.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” You murmur in reply, words muffled against his milky white skin.

He gives the smallest sigh possible, before nodding, fingers running through your hair. “Tell me next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Slumber laced words leave your lips, a warmth embracing your being as the last few tears slip down your cold cheeks.

Pitter patter, the raindrops hit the glass pane.

Pitter patter, the tears drop and stain his white shirt. He doesn’t mind.

Pitter patter, the storm stills, and thunder moves away. Zeus is bored of playing with you.

Pitter patter, his thumbs brush over your cheeks as they clean away the tears.

Pitter patter; is that the sound of your heart, or the raindrops on the glass pane?

“You know this entire ‘cuddling solves anxiety’ thing you’ve been trying to prove to me for the past half an hour, has no scientific claim to it whatsoever.” Zhangjing points out, and you pout at him.

“But, in all honesty, Ziyi always cuddling you is definitely not what roommates do. Yanjun doesn’t even care if I’m alive or dead.”

Yanjun scoffs in response, eyes still glued to his phone.

“And, so you’re telling me, you don’t know whether you were having a panic attack, or your heart was just ‘beating wildly’,” Zhangjing air quotes dramatically, and you would have rolled your eyes, if not for the dire situation. “Because Wang Ziyi was being his usual caring self?”

You nod, stirring your tea.

“Told you it wasn’t a good idea to have him room with a girl.” Yanjun mutters under his breath. Sighing, he steals a sip from Zhangjing’s coffee.

“HEY! I paid for the damn coffee. Give it back!” Zhangjing hysterically screams as he waves his hands about, clearly helpless in his situation, almost as much as you are.

Yanjun sticks out his tongue, but his expression remains dark and his lips pull into a tight line, clearly mulling about something.

“What do you mean?”

“What?” Yanjun replies, his eyebrows raised, almost surprised you replied to him.

“What do you mean you don’t think he should room with a girl?”

“Well, you know, the campus is crammed, and loads of people need to find a dorm.” You nod impatiently and frown deeply. “Skip that. Tell me what I don’t know.”

“Eager, are we?” He teases, just a peek of his usual humor, before his expression returns to its full seriousness.

“Well, so lots of girls need a dorm, and there isn’t any room left. And Ziyi is by far, the least eros driven man I have ever met, so I introduce them to him. So, well,” Yanjun swallows.

His eyes waver as he weighs out the pros and cons of spilling the beans to you, Zhangjing looking equally uncomfortable, even, even afraid, almost, as if he was afraid the words that come next would hurt you.

You tilt your head, eyes brimming with questions as they scream ‘Tell me’, and he complies, a huge sigh tugging the corners of his lips.

“Well, Ziyi has taken good care of them, and they, well, um, misinterpret it, I suppose? As something, something more.” He ends flatly, looking away.

You blink, confused for a moment. And then the reality sinks in.

Zhangjing was wrong. The words didn’t just stab you.

They broke you.

So what, all the times he had ironed clothes for you, claiming they needed to be “crisp and neat”, all the times he accompanied you to the clinics, because you were afraid of injections, all the times he bought you your favourite muffin, claiming he had done so because it was on the way home, when obviously you needed to go one extra round to get to the shop, what, all this, all this, care and concern, was because he was, he was just being nice?

You almost choke on your water. How could you be so stupid to think that he treated you specially?

Of course he hadn’t. Because he was Wang Ziyi, the Wang Ziyi, who was nicknamed Buddha, who was the kindest, most gentlest person on the earth. All that he had done, came naturally for him, an obligation, he believed, as a roommate.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just a roommate.

‘Was that what he thought of me?’ You frustratingly clink the metal spoon against the ceramic glass, frown etched on your forehead, in complete disbelief.

Really? The times when he held you as you calmed down from your attacks, when you woke up from your demons, when you were huddled in a corner, tears running down his face, the hugs, were just because he was nice?

You couldn’t believe it. But apparently, it is the truth, because that’s what Ziyi did for the other girls too, his other roommates, when they broke down under the pressure of their workload.

So what now? You almost scoff again as you think about how special you felt. Clearly, that care and concern was not reserved for you, as you stare at the spinning clothes in the washing machine, your favourite shirt in there.

You really don’t know why, but you just needed the space and time, to just think, about what you were going to do now.

You know why they call it a crush? Because quite literally, they come into your life like a comet and crush everything, messing everything, your projects, your math equations, your files, your clothes. Nothing is in order and you’re a huge mess and you are frustrated, because hell, the next examinations are just around the corner, and you can’t just let a certain boy destroy all that you’ve worked hard for.

You avoid him like the plague. It’s childish, really, but what can you do? Seeing him makes your heart race and the tip of your tongue tastes bittersweet at the sour ache spreading in your chest. You even avoid the cafe he works at, not bothering to go there to wait for him anymore. You hole yourself up in the library, until he finds you there, and you end up scurrying off, before he even has a chance to call out for you.

Now, you hole up at Zhangjing’s, and he has his hand on his hips, a frying spatula in his left arm as he talks over the sizzling oils and vegetables.

“I don’t get you. When you fall for someone, girl, most people would go crazy and just fall in love, like they should, and go crazy and all, and find chances to get closer to the person. You,” He points the spatula at you as he waves the oily tool in your face. “On the other hand, simply ran away. Care to explain?”

You sigh as you rest your chin on your palm, waving your other hand, shooing his madly gesturing spatula away. “Get this thing out of my face. It’s not that I don’t want to be around him….I’m just, just scared I guess?”

Zhangjing’s eyes widen. “Please don’t tell me this is your first time crushing on someone.”

You lick your lips and avert your eyes.

“Dear god, YN, what have you been doing with your life?”

“Um, busy getting a scholarship? Because I’m not rich?” You retort back in return, face flushing from the heat of the pan.

“Well, I’m just telling you, you should at least talk to him. He is genuinely worried, okay? Like he hasn’t stopped talking about you for the past week, and as much as I would love to have updates on your love story, it’s getting tiring to see him so bothered, forever frowning.”

“I agree.”

You glare at Yanjun, as he drops his bag on the sofa, sinking into the couch as he closes his eyes and leans back. “You really need to talk to him.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And about what, exactly?”

“God, your IQ is so high, but your EQ so, so low.”

Zhangjing gives a yelp as you flick his forehead, laughing.

Perhaps you will talk to him. Maybe it would be better this way.

“What are you doing?” You sense a harshness in his tone, but you pretend to not feel it.

“Packing.”

“And why?”

“I’m moving in with Linong, you know the boy from philosophy?”

Ziyi rubs his temples with his fingertips. “Yea, I know who he is. I’m not asking about that, you know what I’m asking about.”

You shrug your shoulders as you fold another shirt, your teeth nearly tearing the chapped skin of your lips.

“YN, stop it. Why are you doing this? Am I… Did I do something wrong?”

Swallowing hard, you shut the suitcase with a firm click. “No. You never did Ziyi.”

You sigh as you stand up, suitcase in one hand, your coat thrown over your arm, your torn bag in the other. Brushing past him, you swallow the drops of salty tears, trembling lips, you walk towards the door.

“YN, wait.”

When you watch dramas, and you see the character call out for another, you always think about how stupid they are when they turn around and look back. Why don’t they just walk away?

Now you know why. It’s impossible. Ziyi’s voice latches onto you like an anchor in the seabed, reeling you towards him and you can hardly resist as you turn around, tear droplets wrapping around your throat.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply stares at you, helpless almost, confused mainly.

“I’m sorry Ziyi. I….I really am.”

You really are sorry, and you would apologise again and again if you could; for hurting him, for wasting his time, for misinterpreting his actions, for falling for him, when it could never possibly be possible.

“When I asked you to talk to him,” Yanjun rubs his temples as he squeezes his eyes, eyebrows knitting into a knot as you fiddled your thumbs in front of him, seated cross legged on his shared bed with Zhangjing, ready to hear an earful from him. “I didn’t mean hurt him. Neither did I mean ‘you should go change a roommate instead of facing the problem head on.’” His head snaps up as he glares at you.

“Why, why, why, must you do that?” He asks exasperatingly, throwing his hands in the air, and they land floppily on the bed.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes downcast, those are the only three words you whisper.

“You can’t possibly not know. You know why. And I want to know why. So, please hurry up and tell me.” Yanjun says, his voice toned down a little, but the frustration is clearly evident in his voice.

“I’m scared?”

“And what are you scared of?” The voice softens down a notch, as he brushes a strand behind your ear.

“I’m scared of falling for him.”

“And why so?” Yanjun continues, his lulling voice, soothing you.

“You know how hard I worked to come here ge. I…..I’m not prepared to…..give up my time, my emotions for something so fickle.”

“Love isn’t fickle, YN. Love is as much of a serious thing as your studies are.”

You shook your head forlornly. “No. No it isn’t. Love, it comes in different forms, and it can always come again. I only have this one shot in Uni. One mistake, one slip up, and I’m losing out to someone else, giving up a bit of my spot in the working world. You know how much this means to me right?’

Yanjun can only sigh and nod as his fingers trace your spine, rubbing your back as he lets you bury your head into his neck, his eyes meeting Zhangjing’s and they both collectively sigh, swallowing some tears as they watch you pitifully cry.

Your father had always said, you weren’t good enough. You weren’t smart enough. That you needed to marry early, or else you would be homeless and unwanted. He always said you were weak, you needed someone to take care of you, someone to support you.

That was what he said. It was an excuse, really. He just wanted to use you, by brainwashing you that you needed someone’s help to survive, he forced you to attend multiple arranged marriages meetings from the age of 14, forcing you to grow up, to become business-like.

You had everything, really. He simply gave everything to you, in exchange for your pretty face and body, to entice businessmen.

But even then, you had felt so, so empty. You just wanted to be normal teenager. You were tired. You wanted to go out and have normal friends, people who didn’t have to deal with the rich’s complex social politics. You wanted to squeal over boys and/or girls alike, you wanted to have a crush and go through that dizzying experience, but you never could. Strict rules told you to wear a cold but professional facade, because successful men wanted capable, cool-headed wives.

You didn’t want to be treated like a possession, a trade item. You wanted to be so much more. But all your life, you never were, and as the seasons passed, you lost yourself somewhere in between social meetings and riches.

That was, until you met Yanjun. He taught you to base your worth on yourself. To ignore your father. To let the invisible wind blow away the meaningless words of your father. To become strong and independent, to make a name for yourself, to succeed base on your own effort, and not because your father had money, enough money to put you into the Ivy League schools to find him more business connections.

On the rooftop of your mansion home that day, the torrent rain slashed you and your screams filled the terrain, your father bringing you down as he hit you repeatedly with a belt, reprimanding you for your disobedience, for screaming that you were independent, for screaming that you hated him, for screaming that you wanted to be normal.

That day, shivering, legs filled with open ruby wounds, you pushed and broke your previous self, a shattered piece lying on the chessboard, and now the opponent across your father, was you. You promised yourself, that you would never step back into the house again.

You left home at 16. And ever since, you’ve been staying with Yanjun till he went to college, and the two of you now together again as you entered into a prestigious college, by your own merit.

This chance in this college, to receive the best possible education, to graduate with one of the most world recognised certificates, was important. Extremely important.

It was the result of everything you prepared for, to enter into the workforce as a strong contender and work your way up and finally, finally meet your father as one of the most successful woman, proving to him that you didn’t need anyone, to achieve what you’ve achieved.

Everything was going according to plan.

That was, until Wang Ziyi entered your life. He didn’t know your past, he treated you normally. Even with your nightmares, he treated you with equal respect; he saw you as someone strong, he believed you were strong, and didn’t treat you specially.

Sometimes, Yanjun would unconsciously treat you specially. A human instinct to pity. But Ziyi knew nothing, and he never did that. He took care of you, sure, but never has he treated you as a weak, wounded hunted animal. He treated you like an eagle, strong, smart, wise, who had an occasional bad day, like anyone else would have had, no matter how stoic the person.

So really, Yanjun could understand that your studies were important, and he knew you were a workaholic, pushing everything aside, everything placed secondary to your calculations and notes.

But he never expected you to so ruthlessly push aside someone you have just developed the slightest feelings for, all because he could possibly distract you.

Which probably wouldn’t be the case, because he saw, how cooly you had turned down thousands of suitors, not the least fazed by their sappy love notes, topping the class even though half the time you were irritated by the boys’ hopeless flirtings.

He didn’t expect you to overreact like this.

So why was it different when it came to Ziyi?

part 2

masterlist

#ninepercentnet #wang ziyi #something wrong with the formatting jskdlsh the summary shld bE BEFORE THE READ MORE

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years ago

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Thanks to the lovely @sarahwroteathing for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Sarah, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Umm well I write my pairings with reader inserts because I know it tends to make people the happiest. Plus I just think it's a cute practice - giving people a chance to live an adventure or a romance with their favorite characters. It's sweet. But I do enjoy writing my OCs as side characters because I can be specific about who they are and what they look like. It's also just useful as a sounding board for how people respond to my characters which helps me with my original fiction pieces.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

Mmm I don't know that I have one! I really like to experiment and play with genre and tropes. I think it's fun!

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Honestly I'd probably be fine doing that with most of them. "Shift" is definitely one because I don't feel confident that we had enough material for Pietro to allow me to write him well which bothers me. But it was a request. Umm "Burden of Proof" maybe just because I don't think it's very good at all - it was just a quick silly thing - and I'm bitter about it somehow having the highest number of notes of any of my stories. It frustrates me greatly.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

Laaaaate at night. That's when my best stuff comes to me. The notes section of my phone is full of parts and pieces of stories from when I wake up in the middle of the night and have a huge wave of inspiration.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Honestly my writer brain is always working. A lot of the time it's weird connections to my life that trigger something. A "what if this had happened instead" or a "I wonder what would happen if". It literally never stops. I have a notebook of more story ideas than I could ever hope to write.

7) In your Just One Kiss fic, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

It's a scene you guys haven't read yet.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

No, I have not. I haven't ever gotten any useful criticism before. Just rude people.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Probably Steve! He's the easiest for me to write for some reason. I also tend to get nicer feedback on Steve stories.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Uuuumm... Pietro. Like I mentioned before, I just don't have enough information to comfortably write him.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Just One Kiss?

Because that's all Bucky's been asking for since he was ten years old: "Come on, doll! Just one kiss?"

12) How did you come up with the idea for Just One Kiss?

Oddly enough, hearing "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer for the first time in a while. I've always thought that song was adorable. Cute and happy and sweet like a pre-war Bucky.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

No, I don't think so! There are a bunch I haven't worked on in a while, but I'm very stubborn. I'm not letting them go.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I've played with the idea of a The Lonely Tree sequel series. I'm still not sure though. I don't want it to be one of those things where the sequel spoils the original because it sucks, ya know?

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

No, I don't think so! I'm pretty intense about finding my endings.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Oh, gosh. This question scares me. I know I'd forget so many people if I tried to be specific. Really, I admire any one who writes on this platform. It's scary. It can get weirdly intense and rude really fast. Writing is hard, and sharing your writing is even harder. Really and truly, I admire everyone who has ever tried.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Every. Single. One.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Depends! It does have to be one or the other, though. I'm not one of those people who can sit in a coffee shop and write. I either need silence, or I need music. I actually make playlists for each longer piece that I take on to help me keep inspiration flowing. I've thought about posting them on the masterlist before.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

I've gotten very, very, VERY sad, but I don't think I've ever made myself cry. Probably because I know I'm a big ole softy who is going to write a happy ending. It helps when you know everything is going to be okay.

20) Which part of your Just One Kiss fic was the hardest to write?

Chapter 7, the Christmas chapter, for sure. That was when I was getting really rude and hateful messages from people. It was also a mental health low point, and of course there was the full chapter deletion that forced me to rewrite from scratch. That was not a fun time, let me tell ya.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

It kind of depends. Mostly I just go with the flow. However, if I'm having trouble grappling with a larger or more complex story, I do try to break it down by what I want to be the theme for each chapter, or a wish list of ideas/moments I want to cover. It still isn't really an outline. More of an idea board, really.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

At some point, the number of notes on stories remains stable and comparatively low no matter how much higher your follower count grows.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Soundtrack. It's the one that I've spent the longest amount of time working with and the one that I feel has the most genuine emotion and depth. But also the lowest number of notes by far.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Burden of Proof. I wrote it as a silly little answer to a vague request. It really doesn't have a plot. That character work isn't that great. I didn't spend much time on it at all. And yet, it has the highest number of notes by far.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Umm not really? Role wise and situation wise, sometimes. The Lonely Tree came about when I passed by my favorite tree and my soon to be friend Maggie asked if she could put me in her art assignment. Scarf Thief came about when I crossed paths with a guy in a Captain America costume the weekend of Halloween who looked like he was about to freeze to death because he forgot to grab a coat and I lent him my scarf.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Really any person who actually goes into detail in their comments is paying me a very treasured compliment. When people do some interpreting? I love it. When people share how they are affected by my writing? I am floored. In recent memory, @hispeculiartreasure private comments to me touched me the deepest.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I think things have to be useful in order to be considered criticism. I've instead had rudeness (demanding updates and treating me like a servant) and confusing leaps to unsupported conclusions (I hate Bucky Barnes because I dare to write a slow burn, apparently).

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Oh, I love to share them! You guys don't know how much you would learn if you actually asked! Mostly I share them with @aubzylynn and @indominusregina

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

No, and I plan to keep it that way.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

Umm minor in terms of not the focal point of the story, I always love writing Tony. His voice comes through really easily to me, and I definitely plan on giving him his own stories in the future. In terms of actually a minor character, Louise from Just One Kiss! I love my sweet, silly Louise. (Betty is a main character dammit)

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

F e e d b a c k. Always feedback. The more detailed, the better.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

I don't know yet! I haven't had a chance to play with very many! I'm missing a lot of the classic romcom ones and it's a damn tragedy. (Hmm I sure hope no one would be an angel and request some specifics so I have an excuse. That would be terrible.)

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I have no earthly idea

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Fluff! Easy! I don't have it in me to carry angst all the way to the end. It always has to have a fluffy ending. I do enjoy the depths I can reach and the complex dynamics I can explore with angst, but in the end I always have to soothe it over with fluff. And I don't write smut, so that's out too. I just like making people happy! I love being able to make people smile and feel good and walk away in a better mood than when they first sat down to read. That's always the goal.

#milestone celebration #ask the author #sarahwroteathing

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ultimatestudyabroad · 4 years ago

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Returning to the U.S. Work Culture

I’m 3.5 months into my new job, so it’s about time I reflect on what it feels like to be back in the American work culture and, moreover, back in the administrative work culture. First, the positive: payday. Every time I open my banking app and see that the paycheck has been deposited, I feel this immense wave of relief that makes me realize how truly tense I have been for the last year and a half. It also feels really good to not have to shell out almost $600/month for health insurance! And the peace of mind that comes with stability cannot be overrated. I feel for all my adjuncting friends who don’t know what next semester’s workload will look like.

On the flip side, yup, this is just like I remember it. Nothing about the America work culture has changed since it drove me to move to the other side of the planet five years ago (I didn’t think that it had, but still, it’s a bit of a shock to be back in it.) In fact, it’s even worse now, because of covid. Before I moved to Australia, I observed that everyone was pretty miserable/stressed out/burned out, but most people didn’t acknowledge it because either they didn’t realize how miserable/stressed out/burned out they were since that state of being is the status quo – it’s just the way life is – or because they were desperately trying not to acknowledge how miserable/stressed out/burned out they were since there wasn’t much they could do about because this is just the way life is. Now, however, due to covid, everyone is fried to a crisp and they know it. The ridiculous amounts of work you were expected to do before have only been multiplied and moved on Zoom.

In I come, not burned out from work, but still reeling personally from a highly traumatic period of transition. And as I’ve discussed in this blog, I’ve been very concerned about losing “Aussie Mel” now that I’m back in the U.S. Re-entering the America work culture will be the ultimate test. So far, it is not going well. It’s hard to describe to my Aussie friends just what it’s like. The easy example is to point out just how little vacation time we Americans take/actually have. But, it’s so much more than that. It’s the day-to-day grind. It’s the fact that every single person is expected to complete way more work than one person can be expected to do. For example, while I was very excited by the job description for my new position from the first time I saw, once I started, I learned that the “and” in my title – Assistant Dean for Advising and Experiential Learning – is actually indicating two jobs. There was a person who did advising before. I get to do his job and this extra piece of “experiential learning.” Typical American workplace move. Kinda like that time I was promoted, but expected to keep doing all of my old job, plus the new duties of the higher level.

The way this unrealistic workload expectation plays out on a daily basis is chronic stress. I felt this before I moved to Australia, which was a huge part of why I wanted to leave. In my former role, I’d usually have the first hour of the day to answer email and prepare for my students before the student appointments began. I would work as fast as I could while watching the hour tick away. A voice in my head would say “Move faster, Mel, you’re running out of time. No, you don’t have time to look that up before the meeting. Shit, you’re out of time. When are you going to be able to get this done?” My chest would tighten and I would feel like I was constantly failing. When you feel like that, you don’t have the capacity to be patient with your co-workers, who are all also feeling the same way. When everyone is so overworked, they unintentionally make your job harder by, for example, not reading the email carefully which then creates three more follow up emails to clear up the confusion. Or, they only answer one of the two questions you asked in the first email. Or, they don’t take the time to look something up or find an old email in their inbox and instead just ask you again. All of this slows me down and I can’t slow down, because I have too much to do!!!! This new job is no different. That’s not a slam on the new job; it’s just the way life is here in America. I have a never-ending deluge of email that I can not get ahead of. It is what it is. I block off time to work on other projects for an hour or so and then I return to my inbox to realize that, if I had been doing email that entire hour, I may have kept up with the inflow, but maybe not. One thing I am very grateful for at my new institution is that I get very few emails on the weekends. That’s nice. I’m desperately trying to develop a healthy work pattern. One very helpful thing I did was silence the tone that sounds every time a new email comes in. But, the struggle is real and it’s largely out of my control. The voice in my head is back: “Move faster, Mel. When are you going to be able to get this done?” American Mel is back and I’m not happy about it.

I’m a bit surprised by how much I miss the academic life. I knew when I was in it that I loved it. My PhD supervisor used to check in on my mental health (because she was an amazing supervisor) and I’d say, “You don’t have to worry about my mental health. I’m great! I’m not at work!” I was working very hard, of course, but it was completely self-directed and about 90% was tasks I enjoyed (the exceptions would be marking/grading essays and taking notes on the stuff I had read). When I wasn’t teaching, I got almost no email! I also did a lot of my reading on the beach or outside in a hammock, which doesn’t hurt 😊 One of my new colleagues articulated the difference between academic and administrative work very well. She said that, though academics are obviously working very hard and also feel overworked, a significant chunk of the work they are doing is their work, their research, their classes. On contrast, as an administrator, your day-to-day tasks are determined for you. You might be able to carve out a little time to work on a project, but that project is something that relates to making the bulk of your job better, say by improving a process or redoing a website. There’s almost no time to pursue intellectual interests or anything that requires deep thinking. That framing really crystallized the difference for me.

Still, I’m surprised by how much I miss academic life, especially given that I knew all along I would be going back into administrative work, because, as we all know, there are no jobs in academia. I’m trying to stay connected to that world; finishing up my book manuscript definitely helped there! And, I was recently lucky to be able to participate in a weekly seminar focused on the works of Sara Ahmed hosted through Flinders University (the time difference just randomly worked). It was so energizing to read difficult works and then discuss them with brilliant people from around the world. When it ended, I found myself sitting down and going back through all of my notes on the books and the seminars, as if I were studying for an exam or something! That’s when I realized how much I was truly craving the academic work again. I’m continuing to work on my research as I can and I’m very much looking forward to next academic year when I’ll have the opportunity to teach (though I’m not sure how I’ll manage to fit that in). I’ve achieved my big hope of getting a position that allows room to combine my administrative and academic identities. It’ll be interesting to see how/if I’m able to strike a balance.

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