#and sometimes it makes it extremely difficult to work

[elljayvee]

farming, outside of industrial-scale hellfarming (a rant for another time) is extremely difficult to make enough food OR money to live on.

It's more likely that smaller farms have operators working off-farm for money, but for farms with over $1m in annual sales, 41% of operators are still working at non-farm jobs at least some of the time (in the United States, in 2022). Median farm income in the US in recent years has sometimes been negative -- a lot of farms aren't making any money and are basically very labor-intensive hobbies. Maybe that's capitalism's fault or maybe it's really, really fucking hard to run a farm and get past subsistence to being able to pay a guy to shoe your horses. (it's both in this case but do NOT underestimate that second one.)

HALT!✋😐

did you remember to express gratitude for not having to subsistence farm today?

[dduane]

Since I've seen you talk about detailed outlining before, how long would you say it takes you to get from a finished outline to a rough rough draft? Or does it vary too much from book to book? I know it's pretty common for writers to worry they're not writing fast enough, but I want to know if there's any way to determine realistic estimates for that stage. Most of the time estimates I see are for later, in the editing stages.

This is (a) a good question, and (b) one of those Almost Impossible To Answer ones, without getting into some detail.

First of all: "A finished outline" of what? Short story? (And yes, you can outine short stories. Sometimes they need it as much as the longer forms. Or even more.) Novella? Novelette? Novel?

...As your question gets into books later on, let's assume you mean a novel.

As is so often the case, my own experience is going to be a crap example for anyone else, as I am generally the Outlier's Outlier.

My first novel gestated in fits and spurts (with fit-and-spurt outlining) for 10+ years before yelling in my ear OKAY, READY NOW! and pulling me under the surface to drown or swim. Six weeks from (finally completed) outline to completed first draft. (That being the one that sold.)

After that I learned how to really outline from my story editors at Hanna-Barbera... because there is no pantsing in TV: your producers have to know what you're turning in, so they can tell the backers/investors. Pretty quickly I learned the art of (as we call it in the household) "weighing the story in your hand," as if it was a bag of sugar. Is there enough story here to sustain a novel? A novella? A short story? That story must shoulder up under the scaffolding you build for it and have enough power to support the weight of the narrative and the characters' interwoven interactions.

You make your call on this, and then you find out—by trial and error—whether you were right or not. Sooner or later you learn whether, and when, to trust your instincts in this regard.

Once you know the number of words you're going to have to work toward... then you can start estimating completion times.

And here is where you learn the hard, bitter business of being honest with yourself. At the end of the day, it comes down to accurate prediction/appraisal of output. How many words are you going to write per week? (I've stopped saying "per day." Too many of the You Must Write X Words Per Day folks have turned this trope toxic, and freaked new writers out.)

But more to the point: can you trust your own estimates?

Let's leave that issue to one side for the moment, and take The Door Into Shadow as an example.

I was just getting to grips with outlining as a necessity at that point (as Deep Wizardry had required something similar). DW was its own set of problems, as the pace of the outlining was being influenced by needing to do real-world research at NYPL (For this was sooooo long before Google, and there was nowhere to get the data I needed except out of books.)

TDIS, though, was another kettle of fish. Beginning and ending were plain enough to me from even the earliest conceptual stages. The middle (as always for me: middles always seem murkiest...) was still up in the air, both structurally and in terms of the intrapersonal relationships that would define it. And the middle had some extremely difficult stuff for the protagoniste to get through. (Disclosure for those who might have heard some whispered stuff about this: in this book, I was working through my own historical sexual assault/abuse at age sixteen by a "friend of the family". Last I heard, adults were still allowed to do this kind of working-through in prose. Got other opinions? I've heard them many times over many years. This approach worked for me.)

Outlining on TDIS took me something like three months. Writing the book took six months, plus/minus... once I was clear that the outline was right on the money and needed to go where it was going. Then I got back to Young Wizards work, and Scooby-Doo. (Or was it Space Ghost by then? I lose track.)

Since then, on every book I've written, outlining has routinely taken six to eight weeks. The books themselves have taken...

...ALL kinds of lengths of time. Outlining of My Enemy, My Ally took about two months. Writing the book (on very short notice, as the publisher suddenly had an empty slot to fill) took eleven days. ("Can you do this?" said the agent over the phone, very concerned. "Are you sure??" I was sure. Because the outline was detailed, even for me, and I knew exactly where I was going.)

Outlining of The Romulan Way, by comparison, took maybe a month, and the book itself took sixteen or eighteen days... because @petermorwood was co-writing. (But he was so intuitive and quick on the uptake that he might as well have been inside my head... and people still have trouble telling which of us wrote what. Which is exactly as it should be, when you're writing as a team. You don't want to be told apart: you're working as a corporate being.)

Yet Tales of the Five: The Librarian, which I'm working on completing at the moment, took maybe a year to outline, and has been drafting since 2019. And many books between now and [twenty? thirty?....) years past, have produced wildly different results that are resistant to any kind of logical analysis.

...I think what I'm getting down to here is that attempts to jam your work-in-progress into a Box of Timing Expectations are possibly futile. All kinds of things will affect your ratio of outlining-to-execution time: life-crisis crap, the annoying intersection of mundane work-and-living needs with creative time, illness, straightforward inability to concentrate on the writing no matter how you try: you name it. It'll just be maddening if you try to force it to make sense. (Especially since so much in this equation rests on how many words you turn out a week. (Month. Whatever. Stop counting it by the day like calories, ffs. Art will not willingly be sliced up to go onto the scale and be weighed by the goddamn gram.)

…My take on this: Stop paying attention to other people's half-baked, self-centered expectations on how fast you should be writing. Do what YOU, and your Work, need to be doing.)

In particular: take the time to do what your story seems to be requiring you to do. And cut it some slack. It may know better than your Conscious Brain does.

More could be said about this, but for the moment, I suspect this is enough. Other people are all too willing to flourish the whip over your sweating, straining Creative Selves' backs and crack it as if your Steeds of Creativity aren't working hard enough to suit their standards.

You know what? Fuck that noise.

"Realistic estimates"? There aren't any. Other people are making them up. They want to make themselves feel right. Whether that makes you feel ineffective is the last thing on their minds. (And work executed from that POV is dreadfully revelatory of their work’s likely quality.)

Work as your own version of the Work desires you to. Write your best at your own best pace.

Those other guys? What have they written lately? Who cares! The hell with them. Go where your own Work takes you, at your (and its!) own speed. Which is the right speed.

And gods' speed. :)

ETA to @rabidbehemoth: Jeez, be SLOW and shame the Devil. Let James Joyce be your poster boy on this! I'm sure he'd have liked to be done with Ulysses sooner, but some things can't be rushed, y'know? :)

[academicazura]

🌿 Azura’s Weekly Review 🌿

You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you - Hook (1991)

Week 1 of Documenting My Life 30/06/25 - 06/07/25

1. Reflections

Highlights: 🌟My return to tumblr - this community is always so amazing 🌟Back to studying, not fully but a good place to continue from 🌟Making creative meals, reading great books, loving all the Hogwarts music/ambience videos

Challenges: 🔻So much struggling with my health this week, sad to leave out a lot of physical activity as well 🔻Juggling studies, all the chores and trying to find some time for myself 🔻Feeling scattered, and misplaced somehow. Like I'm in the wrong place constantly

Lessons Learned: 📍Trying to adjust to my body needing to slow down 📍Showing up as I am, even when I'm not in full health 📍Learning to be flexible, even when it's not what I planned

Mood:😔

Focus: ✅ Goodness ❎ Consistency ✅ Beauty

2. Progress

Body and Health Having heart issues currently. Seemingly out of nowhere as I have been sticking to regular meal times, so it's been hard to deal with. It makes me feel powerless when I try to do everything right, and things still go backwards. Doing what I can to take care of myself. One positive is that I am not extremely tired every day anymore!

Creative Work Set up July for my journal, a little late as I always am these days, but I am fine with the empty spaces in my trackers, because the consistency of other times is the progress that's real.

Very surprised that this post did so well, although looking back at it, it was a well balanced and highly productive day even though none of the days last week really felt like it. I'm so happy to be blogging again, I have no words to describe it.

Study & Growth Got my study system working - I have a good plan scheduled, and it's set up in a way that's easy to update weekly based on my progress. I colorcoded all the courses and set up a notes taking system in a notebook I had lying around for quick notes about the most important things.

Adulting is so hard, and sometimes I feel like an octopus trying to take care of myself and juggle all the responsibilities. This week's progress was diet related - I upped my intake and switches in diet are difficult to figure out and emotionally challenging, but by the end of the week I was fine with eating more to support my health.

Reading & Media Finished this week: Maanalainen näkötorni, Claes Andersson

In progress: Skin and Other Stories, Roald Dahl; At Dusk, Hwang Sok-yong; Omahyvä (ja omalaki), Risto Ahti.

Current obsessions: The so called "adult cartoons", I'm rewatching Bob's Burgers for the millionth time, and American Dad! for the first time. I'd love to rewatch Daria again at some point, but right now I just can't justify so many series'...

3. Looking Ahead

Focus for Next Week: Well-being, Dedication and Imagination

Goals: 🌟Achieve my week's study goals 🌟Finish 2 books and watch 1 film 🌟Decorate my hair brush

For next week: Trying to improve my evening rhythm so I can fall asleep better, and balance studying with breaks instead of an all-or-nothing mentality.

4. Action Plan

Body & Health 1. Keep up regular meal times and monitor health issues. 2. Stretching and foam rolling, especially on rest days.

Creative Work 1. Decorate my hair brush. 2. Daily tumblr posts and weekly review.

Study & Growth 1. Complete study tasks for the week. 2. Take intentional breaks.

Reading & Media 1. Finish 2 books. 2. Watch 1 film.

5. Dreaming Of...

🌟Cozy study moments with ambient music 🌟Homemade bread with butter 🌟The seaside, seashells and the smell of salt in the air

[cb-writes-stuff]

“You can’t enjoy being neurodivergent/disabled/having X disorder if it makes you suffer so much! How dare you be making jokes about it!!!” Well you see, your bad days only suck a little bit so you don’t appreciate the good days very much. My bad days suck so much worse, so I only appreciate the good days that much more to compensate.

[arundolyn]

man. whenever i see someone discussing it/talking about liking it i feel myself Wanting to like. respect? extreme horror as a genre. more than i do. and i think my problem boils down to like. some of the places these things go.. you need to be a damn good writer, and you kinda need to make it have a Point or a Reason at least somewhat. you gotta be able to suspend your disbelief. that doesn't go any different for any flavor of horror than any other type of nonfiction writing tbh and in my opinion is generally harder to pull off. what happens does, in context, need to at least kinda sorta make a little bit of sense in some way and not be happening Just Because. and because of the rarity and stigma of extreme horror its less likely to qualify well for either of the above and just ends up attracting people who want to write some Really out there shit and get upset when they get justified critique from readers (usually people who bought their book and Enjoy extreme horror!) and always want to couch it like they're being oppressed for Writing which is a super disingenuous way to put it

[faggling]

I love taking care of people omggg 😍😍😍

[applejuiceyjuice-art]

i like doodling on my ipad bc its so convenient but its such a pain in the ass to do anything that elaborate like i don’t even bother coloring half the time and why i practically only post sketches.

it’s partially bc my ipad is old and cracked and overheats, lags, doesn’t register inputs, crashes...but it’s also bc it’s annoying asf to get references or import anything. something i can do on my computer in 2 seconds is a whole ordeal on my ipad THROWS MY SHIT OUT THE WINDOW

[dandyshucks]

me waking up at 6am this morning and immediately having the thought "maybe Guz still gets angry a lot because strong emotions are difficult if not impossible to control esp if its rooted in abuse trauma BUT he learns how to apologize, and thus - especially in the beginning - he would lash out as an automatic response but quickly realize what he's doing and apologize for it and we'd move on and be okay" like it had been beamed into my brain from some divine source.

also junebug (waves. thats literally just me.) would have to do their own hard work to learn to not automatically fawn when someone starts seeming the littlest bit potentially displeased or unhappy (because that is unhealthy for all parties involved). they'd BOTH be putting in the work to make it work !!!!!! 🎉

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[dlxxv-vetted-donations]

Noureddine doesn't get donations for days after that his gfm closed and he relied on Paypal.

My other promotions

Note: I do not often make posts for campaigns I am not focusing on, and I won't be updating this often

Updated: Nov 27

Member(s): @noor509 (current), @noorabd1992 (deleted), @noorabd-1992

Verification: @/90-ghost on Wayback Machine (old campaign), knows vetted Palestinian @/mohiy-gaza2

Payment methods: Paypal for Noor (proof of legitimacy)

Summary: Noureddine's family relied on their gfm campaign to fulfill basic living needs, but all donations from Nov 4-15 (some on Nov 3) were not received and the campaign closed on Nov 15. If you believe you're eligible for a refund and didn't get one, please contact gfm. Noor now receives funds through a Paypal account (linked above).

Campaign details, updates:

Nov 26: Noor gets only 1-2 donations to his Paypal daily. I'm adopting this campaign starting Nov 28-29 for an unknown amount of time. It will be difficult to track progress as it's not observable on Paypal and Noor cannot be online to update me constantly, but I will try.

Nov 15: Noor's gfm campaign was closed on Nov 15. He and his campaign manager spoke of the situation here, which links to a Paypal that he now relies on.

The old fundraiser link no longer works. The last transfer was sometime on Nov 3, and to my knowledge all donations from Nov 4-15 (some from Nov 3) didn't make it to Noor and were automatically refunded. If you believe you were eligible for a refund and didn't get one, please contact gofundme.

Campaign details:

Noureddine's previous account was completely deleted along with all reblogs including vetting, resulting in the campaign stagnating.

He relies on donations as he has no income with which to care for his wife and 2 children, one of whom is a newborn.

The family moved from the hospital to their tent immediately after their second child was born in March.

They were relocated 7 times.

The tent is already inadequate shelter as there are harmful insects.

I've seen many Gazans worry about winter making tent living conditions unbearable.

Food, clean water, and medicine are scarce. The family live under constant and extreme psychological stress.

[lovecatsys]

getting self conscious about calling myself disabled is certainly a thing. Like I have diagnosed severe hearing loss But I can mostly navigate the the world without needing to sign or use hearing aids. I have chronic pain from fibromyalgia But I only need to use my cane occasionally. I'm autistic But the only really disabling thing for me about it is the fact that I can't work or socialize as much as allistic people otherwise I'm Fine (besides all the trauma from it lmao). Like I get the whole thing of invisible disabilities but sometimes its like my disabilities don't come up very often in my life

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wrapped around you [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob has a secret lover in the city, and that night he feels the need to sleep in her arms.

masterlist part 2

You were making instant soup when your phone buzzed with a text. It was late and you were tired, so you figured whoever it was, could wait a bit.

You'd spent fourteen hours working at the convenience store, covering your usual shift and also the shift of the college student who worked in the afternoons. More than just the money, it was a kind of favor. The poor girl had been sick the past few days, and you'd hate for her to lose her job. Still, the fact that it was an act of good faith didn't help ease your fatigue.

A minute after the first message, another one rang. You ignored it, thinking that if it was something urgent, the person could always call. Two more messages rang through shortly after. And when two more did, it was enough for you to turn away from the stove and search for your phone.

The contact record was flashing in the notification bar.

Bob ♡ : hi Bob ♡ : are you home? Bob ♡ : can i come over? Bob ♡ : I know it's late Bob ♡ : sorry Bob ♡ : you can say no

You knew he hated taking calls, and although the insistence seemed odd to you, you quickly responded. You thought that, after so many months, he would have understood that it wasn't even necessary for him to ask if he could visit you. But he kept doing it, and you kept saying yes.

When you met him, it wasn't under the best circumstances. The man had walked into the store all nervous, and judging by the way he was hyperventilating, you thought he'd been mugged. It turned out he was having some kind of anxiety attack and just wanted to stay somewhere to calm down. You –still afraid he'd escaped from a mental institution– let him. After a few minutes of analyzing him, something in you told you he was just a man who needed a little kindness.

You offered him water, asked if he needed any medication, and suggested he grab something from the store if he was hungry. Bob didn't accept either option, but he appreciated the consideration you were showing him, even though you didn't know him. A while later, when he was in a more decent state, he said goodbye.

You had trouble sleeping that night. You worried about not knowing what had become of that stranger, even if his visit to the store had been so brief.

A few days later, he appeared again. He looked better this time. He still had that shy air, but now he wasn't pale and staring into space. It turned out he'd come back to thank you. You thought it was such a sweet gesture that if you could have, you would have hugged him; you didn't because it would have been too weird.

Bob continued going to the store. At first, he at least pretended he was going to buy something, almost always grabbing the first thing he found and putting it in the checkout, hoping you'd exchange a few words.

You didn't want to bankrupt the poor boy, so after a few weeks, you told him he could stop by and say hi even if he wasn't going to buy anything.

At some point, you invited him out for ice cream. You started spending more time together, and finally, one day you invited him over to your apartment. The first time, you didn't have sex. It was the second time.

From then on, you had something going on, though you still didn't dare put a name to it. Bob didn't want to make you feel stifled or pressured, and you thought talking things out would bring you bad luck.

That's why it wasn't unusual for him to stop by your apartment sometimes, whenever he felt like cuddling. Of course, you two didn't just fuck, but to be honest, the activity was extremely beneficial for producing certain chemicals in your brains that made any difficult situation better. So it was something to relax, yes.

You hadn't told anyone about him. It was like a tacit agreement, almost as if you two were leading a double life where things were less stressful, confined mostly to your couch or bed.

As for him, he also kept you a secret with some suspicion. His friends noticed that he'd been absent more in recent months, but no one had been able to investigate. The few times they wanted to bring up the subject, Bob would excuse himself by saying he was going to the library or running some errands, and the matter was settled.

Now and then, he would sleep over at your apartment. It was always because you were having a good time and you suggested it, insisting that the night could hold many dangers. But both of you knew it was the need for closeness speaking for you.

However, it was unexpected that he would take the initiative to spend the night together. Because at that hour, he was definitely going to stay until the next morning, right?

Knock, knock, knock…

Someone was at the door. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in thought, but the lukewarm soup in your bowl gave you a clue.

Bob always arrived the same way: with that strange mix of imposing presence and quiet exhaustion. Tonight was no exception. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt—one of those old, oversized ones that seemed to have lost their shape from so much use—and faded jeans, his worn boots covered in a fine layer of dust. His disheveled hair fell over his forehead, damp at the temples, as if he'd been walking too far or had just stepped out of a quick shower without drying it completely.

His shoulders were tense, but his eyes… his eyes spoke volumes. Dark circles under his eyes, heavy eyelids, as if he hadn't slept well in days. And yet, when he looked at you as you opened the door, there was a faint flicker of relief in his expression. He didn't fully smile, but you could tell something in him had given way just by looking at you.

"Hi"

He was carrying a small paper bag—probably containing something for dinner, or some absurd craving he was using as an excuse to see you—and his knuckles were red, as if he'd been rubbing them together out of anxiety or cold. He didn't say much when he entered. He only looked at you for a few seconds, as if he needed to confirm that you were letting him into your home.

"How are you?"

“Fine,” you followed him with your eyes, noticing him walking to the counter to leave the package. “And you?”

"Fine"

His answer obviously didn't convince you completely. So you quietly approached him and cupped his face for a kiss.

Bob immediately let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed under your touch.

"You sure?"

“Yes. I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“Oh, just seeing me? How unfortunate, darling.”

Suddenly, you heard him chuckle, and then he came over to hug you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A shiver ran through you when he kissed your bare skin.

“Seeing you, hugging you, touching you, kissing you…”

“That sounds better to me.”

Instinctively you leaned further against him, letting his hand settle on your lower back and holding that position for a while.

You noticed that in the paper bag Bob had brought a couple of rolls and a bottle of chocolate milk to share with you. It was odd how he almost always brought something, as if he wanted to show you that he wasn't just going to demand your affection. Even if he had, it wouldn't have bothered you too much.

You sat down in the living room to share a small dinner, and Bob asked how your day had been. He really enjoyed listening to you, though he couldn't exactly explain why, and you were always happy to share things with him. You only stopped when he took it upon himself to brush away a couple of crumbs that had remained at the corner of your lips, doing so with a gentleness that melted your heart.

It was past midnight when you finished eating. Even though the man's presence had lifted your spirits, you still felt like your eyelids would close at any moment and you'd simply collapse. He noticed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His voice came out in a measured tone, almost as if he didn't want to upset the fragile balance of the night. You didn't answer him immediately, but instead looked at him. The dim light barely outlined his figure, his broad shoulders, his long legs crossed with a comfort that contrasted with the question he'd just asked.

“Are you asking because you really don’t know…” you said calmly, with that kindness you usually reserved only for him, “or because you need me to say yes to feel at peace?”

Bob looked up. That familiar expression appeared on his face: a mixture of honesty and a certain emotional awkwardness.

“Maybe both”

You nodded without saying anything. The tenderness he provoked in you wasn't effusive or naive; it was more like something that knotted in your stomach and spoke to you in a low voice.

“Of course I want you to stay. You can stay as many times as you want.”

With that, you walked toward him, extending your hand in a calm gesture, almost out of habit. It wasn't an invitation: it was a certainty.

He didn't hesitate. He stood up naturally and followed you, as if that was enough to remind him that yes, this was his place. You knew something was happening to him, but you couldn't figure out what it was; there was a sign written on his forehead, in a language you couldn't read.

Your apartment was modest, but—in Bob's words—cozy. Because of this, your mattress was barely bigger than a twin, not quite a queen size, but there was enough room for the two of you.

Throughout the room, there were a few things that denoted his intermittent presence. You had a comforter, white and crisp, that you unfolded whenever he stayed. He'd told you that being covered helped him sleep. You, on the other hand, hated doing it. He slept without a pillow, and you slept with this one. Bob on the left side, you on the right.

The mere knowledge of the opposite routine was proof enough that your relationship was more intimate than either of you would have liked to admit. There was a sweater he'd forgotten, you'd gotten him a toothbrush, and you also had his favorite brand of tea, as a thoughtful gesture. One of his books rested on your nightstand.

Sometimes, in a corner of your bed, he used to forget his heart.

Shortly after wishing him goodnight, you fell asleep. You could barely feel his presence, close in the small space, but far enough away that he couldn't reach your hand or wrap you in a hug. Either way, you were just getting used to it, as neither of you had ever slept in another person's arms. At least not as a regular activity, of course.

Hours passed until, unwillingly, you suddenly woke up. It wasn't due to a noise or a bad dream; it was just your brain deciding to interrupt your sleep. A second later, slightly more conscious, you realized you needed to pee.

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, complaining about leaving the comfort of your previous position and hissing softly as your feet hit the cold floor. You crossed to the bathroom and, as you sat down, you remembered that you hadn’t brushed your teeth before going to bed, so, taking advantage of the fact that you were already there, you did. It lasted about five minutes, at most, then you flushed the toilet and forced yourself to walk again.

All the lights were off, except for the faint glow coming through the window from the street, because you didn't want to be disturbed from sleep. The silence of three in the morning accompanied you on your journey.

Then, as you turned down the hall, you saw him.

Bob was sitting up in bed, hunched slightly forward. He hadn't turned on a lamp either. His eyes were half-closed, blinking slowly, as if drowsiness were overcoming him, but he wasn't about to give in. He yawned, long and contained, covering his mouth with a piece of the comforter he was holding.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, stopping in your tracks, softening your voice.

It took him a few seconds to react. He looked up, staring at you as if he needed confirmation that you were back.

“You left,” he murmured hoarsely, without reproach.

You walked slowly toward, sitting across from him. You took his face in your hands, warm and firm, recognizing that subtle tremor that sometimes appeared in his jaw when something happened to him.

“Did I wake you up when I got up? I’m sorry…”

“No. I just... didn’t feel you.”

He caressed, perhaps unconsciously, the space on the mattress that still held the silhouette of your body. You watched him with a hint of confusion.

“I just went to the bathroom, Bob. I wasn't going to leave. Why didn't you stay asleep?"

He didn't respond. He looked at you as if he were trying to absorb you with his eyes, as if your presence alone wasn't enough to quell the restlessness he'd felt during those minutes of absence.

Bob wasn't an easy man to read, not even when he gave in to exhaustion, as if all his emotions were seeping through a tiny crack. But there, in that barely tense stillness, you understood. He wasn't worried about your absence, but rather reacting to the possibility of being alone. Again. To the fleeting image of an empty bed in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, without a word, he leaned toward you. He rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and then his lips sought yours with a silent urgency. Not hunger, not passion, just need. Like someone clinging to an edge to avoid falling.

You let him do it, without asking any more questions. You responded with slow, sustained kisses, not meant to heal him, just to let him know you were there.

He clung to your waist, wrapped his arms around you, and buried himself against your body as if he wanted to disappear into your skin. He didn't stop kissing you, not even when he laid you back on the mattress. You hugged him back, caressing the back of his neck, his back, his shoulders. You no longer tried to guess what was troubling him; you had learned that he didn't need to be interrogated, but rather to be enveloped.

His caresses weren't meant to be lascivious, but simply a quiet need for contact. When he finished kissing you, he buried his face against your chest and, as if that weren't enough, tangled a leg between yours. You noticed he was still tense, even in that embrace that should have been a relief.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, slowly stroking the back of his neck.

Bob nodded, but hesitantly.

“No, nothing. I just... wondered if this is... too much.” His voice was a broken whisper, as if he didn’t know how to say it without ruining the moment. “Am I being... clingy?”

"Why do you say that?"

“I don’t want to suffocate you”

You let out a low laugh, so soft it barely vibrated in your chest. You kissed his temple and then stroked him again, more deliberately, your nails barely grazing his scalp.

“You don’t, love. I’m fine. Excellent, in fact.”

After your confession, he relaxed a little, but didn't let go of the hug. You, without rushing him, continued to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"I like it when you say nice things like that to me. You know, when you call me love and all that..."

“With that little, pretty face it’s impossible to contain myself.”

Your eyes were already closed when you said that, but both he and you knew there was a small smile on the other one face. After a few seconds, you began to hum a melody without words, soft and repetitive, with the calm rhythm of someone who doesn't need to think.

Bob could feel the vibrations in your throat and tried to focus on it, as if it were a lullaby to help him fall asleep. Eventually, that, along with the massage you were giving him on his scalp, was enough to help him fall asleep. You knew he had done it when you felt his breathing take on a calmer, more steady rhythm against your body.

Even though you were exhausted, you still took a few minutes to meditate. Having him like this, practically fused against you, clinging to you as if he feared you'd evaporate, begging for kisses in hopes of drowning whatever demon was tormenting him now, you wondered how bad it would be to have him in your house more often. Except for your parents, you weren't good at sharing your living space with anyone else. But Bob made you want it, like you suddenly wished you two were serious, formal, and maybe even settled down with him. At first, the thought made you smile. A moment later, it completely terrified you.

Bob wasn't the perfect man, and you definitely weren't the perfect woman. But in that moment, you felt like you were what each other needed. Reflecting, you stroked his head a little more until you felt your own body giving in, surrendering to the rest you so longed for.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, you concluded that, even though you didn't know what the future would hold, you were determined to enjoy the present. For the moment, that was more than enough.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[nepenthendline]

the not-so-good parts about dating them

a/n: I am nothing if not a red flag lover

includes: midoriya, todokori, bakugo, shinsou, kirishima, kaminari, iida, hawks, aizawa

Midoriya -

Midoriya's priority list is '1. everyone' so, sometimes, it's difficult to feel special in his eyes. It's not that he doesn't see you as a top priority, he just often lets himself get caught up with other people and dealing with their problems so you don't get his undivided attention all that often. He doesn't mean to do it at all, but he has missed dates before because he was staying late at work to help his students or got stuck helping out a friend.

Bakugo -

🤨 Aside from his obvious anger issues, Bakugo often struggles to see you as a team and not just individuals. Whenever you argue, he often sees it as a 'me vs you' and not a 'us vs the problem', and he sometimes makes big decisions without talking to you first. He feels like he has to be better than you because he needs to be a provider and a protector, so he tackles issues on his own instead of talking to you and working things through as a team.

Todoroki -

Todokori has no reference to what a 'healthy' relationship looks like, and it terrifies him. All he knows is what, or who, he doesn't want to end up like, and it stops him from taking initiative in your relationship because he's scared of doing the wrong thing. He knows he's not like his father, but he still worries that he's going to end up like him anyway, as if it's fated. Because of this, things move incredibly slowly, and it can be hard to tell that he does love you since he doesn't often make moves or use words to show you. He knows he wants, and needs, to improve though, he just needs some guidance.

Kaminari -

Kaminari struggles with self-sabotage in your relationship - he convinces himself that he's not good enough for you or that he's making your life worse by being with you, and can push you away, cancel dates late minute or act like he doesn't need you. These actions never last long before he snaps out of it, and you're well aware by now of what's going on in his head when he starts acting like this, but he's always convinced he's going to fuck this up. And sometimes, he believes it so much that he does. The guilt eats away at him daily.

Kirishima -

(Absolutely nothing) Kirishima hates showing you when he's feeling down, weak, or 'unmanly'. He bottles up a lot of his negative emotions and thoughts away from you and they gnaw away at him. Its not that he feels like he can't talk to you, in fact sometimes he lets things slip because he feels so comfortable around you, but quickly tries to put a positive spin on his words so that you don't worry. It's more that he feels he shouldn't, and that you have enough things to deal with as it is. He wants to be a safe space for you, so dealing with his emotions is out of the question. He never blows up at you because things get too far though, you just wish he could rely on you more.

Iida -

For the first while in your relationship, it almost felt like you lost your friendship with Iida. The lines between being friends and being a partner were extremely defined to Iida for some time, and he felt that every interaction between the two of you had to be so formally-relationshipy - this meant things such as only spending time with you on pre-scheduled dates, affection felt like ticking boxes on what was 'meant' to come next in a relationship, or not letting you see his deeper, darker times. Things do get better after some time and conversations, but it kinda felt like the first year of your relationship didn't really count.

Shinsou -

Shinsou feels like being with you is the most selfish act someone has ever committed. Sometimes he even thinks that, somehow in a way he doesn't know, he's forcing you to be with him. He feels like you can do so much better than him, but he loves you too much to let you go (not that you would anyway). He thinks that he doesnt treat you as well as you deserve and so he goes overboard to 'make things up to you', when in reality he's the most caring, selfless person you've met. He often brings up the idea of you finding someone else, or that you can cheat on him and he'll stay if that makes you happy, and it breaks your heart every time.

Aizawa -

Aizawa feels like everyone he truly lets in, he has lost, and he is terrified that's going to happen to you. So, he tries to keep his feelings and thoughts for you as surface-level as possible. The problem is that he's terrible at doing that - he has such a big heart and he wants you in every way imaginable, which creates a lot of inner conflict for him. One minute he's telling you everything weighing on his mind and letting himself fall deeper into you, and the next he's keeping you at arms length. He's scared to admit that he relies on you or that he needs you, but he does it anyway and it tears him apart inside.

Hawks -

He lies to you more times that he would like to admit. Well, it's more that he's very good about skirting around a question or situation rather than telling you the truth. There's some things in his life, his past, or his thoughts that he feels are best not being part of your life, and so he will tell you little lies and make adjustments to the truth to fit a narrative that he prefers. He wants to protect you from any negativity or darkness that he can - he knows what going through that feels like and he does not want you to have to feel that too, but mostly, and most selfishly, he's terrified of you thinking he's a bad person because of some actions he's had to take. It can be almost impossible to tell when he's lying or telling the truth because he's extremely open and upfront with other topics.

[divadepreshawn]

𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂'𝒂𝒎

Summary: Aaron Hotchner is not a man of many words — he prefers silence, gesture, subtle care. You have learned to listen. Warning: I don't think this can even be considered a story in itself. It's more about my kink for tough men who obey their wives in silence. Delusions WC: 1 093

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You knew that Aaron Hotchner was not an easy man.

He was – for lack of a more delicate term – emotionally constipated. And the chronic stress of his job made it worse. He is a person who values ​​justice a lot, and yes, he manages to apply it at work. But sometimes willpower alone is not enough, luck is not always on your side – even if he doesn't say it out loud, you know it affects him.

Aaron carried all of this in silence – never showing how tired he was, never asking for help.

He is extremely protective, to an almost suffocating degree. Not only of you and Jack, but of the team as well – which means he takes on more responsibilities than any healthy human being should try to handle.

Even so – and perhaps precisely because of this – he is a great husband.

Aaron Hotchner is the most romantic person you know.

Of course, if you tried to verbalize this to him, Aaron would give a half-smile, mumbling in mockery.

“Tzz, you’re starting to get sleep deprived. Let’s go to sleep, honey.”

But you could see it. You knew.

He didn’t say “I love you” often, or make big public declarations—it wasn’t necessary. You learned to watch the way he loved.

He would show up with a bouquet of tulips every month on the twentieth (the date you got married)— a silent ritual he followed to the letter, whether you were traveling to a case or at home. If a case was particularly difficult for you, he would sit next to you on the jet in silence, intertwine your fingers with his, and with his free hand, place a cup of tea and your favorite candy in front of you.

You mentioned once — just once — that your lower back hurt during your period. It was a casual comment, something so small that you didn’t even remember why it was important to the conversation. But he kept it in mind. In the months that followed, he would pay attention to every phase of your cycle. Every tiny expression on your face—from a slight frown when you bent down to pick up something that had fallen on the floor — didn’t go unnoticed.

Aaron would come to you at the end of the day, placing a quick kiss on your lips and a folded note in your hand.

a voucher for a massage.

And when you were feeling especially needy — which happened more often than you’d like to admit out loud — he’d notice before you could even open your mouth. Aaron would drag you to sit on his lap while he finished his reports.

Even if it was hard to write. Even if his leg went numb. He let you, because it was important to you. And because he loved you.

But there was one thing, one specific gesture, so simple, that melted you like jelly.

He didn’t make any decisions without asking your opinion first.

– After the wedding, you agreed to stay in his apartment instead of buying a house. The apartment was well located, practical, and safe. Besides, with the routine at BAU, it would be difficult to look for a house, deal with the renovation, and move. It was a lot of unnecessary stress.

The only problem is that Aaron is a very practical person, and takes the meaning of the word functional very seriously – things just needed to fulfill their purpose. A couch was a couch. And a curtain was just a piece of cloth that needed to block the sun's rays from coming in.

Worrying about the colors of the walls, matching the furniture in the house? No, that wasn't important to him.

But it was important to you, and that was the first thing you noticed. The wooden furniture in different tones, the three wallpapers in different colors and patterns. Not to mention the biggest affront to good taste, that damn striped curtain.

The decoration of the apartment was, honestly, terrible. But in his defense, Aaron was willing to make the place comfortable for you. In other words, he was so committed to transforming the apartment that he even mentioned changing the tiles in the bathroom if you wanted.

“You can decorate it however you want,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile on his lips when he noticed your expression of disgust.

“You promise?” , you asked, still staring at the couch as if it were a personal enemy.

“Of course, honey” , he assured, “where do you want to start?”

“I need a metal can.”

Aaron frowned. “What? Why?”

“I’ll start by burning these curtains.”

– Aaron woke up thirty minutes earlier than you every day. It was a deal you made, you take care of breakfast and he gets Jack ready for school. It was the kind of simple but essential deal that made the routine lighter without weighing on either side.

You were still half asleep, sunk into the soft sheets, hugging Aaron's pillow to fill the void in the bed and smell him – a mix of soap and cologne.

“Love?”

“Hm..?” You murmured, your voice hoarse. Opening your eyes slightly, trying to make out the figure near the wardrobe.

Aaron had his back to you, only with the white towel wrapped around his waist, still with small drops of water sliding down his back. His hair was damp and disheveled. He was holding two hangers.

“Gray or navy blue?”

You blinked slowly, trying to understand why the koala from your dream was calling you and your love and asking you to choose between two colors. You snuggled deeper into the bed, burying your head in the pillow. “I think… Navy blue.”

Aaron smiled, seeing your drowsy state. He hung the hangers back in the wardrobe and walked over to the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, before his lips brushed against your shoulders, leaving small kisses.

“Coffee in ten minutes?”

“Depends, if you want pancakes it’s ten minutes. Now if you want coffee in bed…” Before you can finish your sentence, he lightly bites your shoulder, making you let out a muffled laugh against the pillow.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting with me in your sleep,” he says, his tone full of disbelief – although he was clearly enjoying himself.

“Baby, I would learn necromancy to flirt with you after death,” you retort, turning your face slightly to face him.

Aaron lets out a snort of laughter. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, slapping your ass before standing up. “Come on, Mrs. Hotchner.”

“Call me that later,” you whine dramatically as you sink deeper into the sheets and mattress, “Now give me five more minutes, Mr. Koala.”

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[levigarden999]

♡ you being levi's first gf ♡ fluff ♡

𖤐 levi has never had a girlfriend, not even during his youth in the underground. he rarely ever felt attracted to anyone and to be honest, relationship was the least of his worries. however, the day you arrived to the survey corps, his mind had changed.

𖤐 levi has his own, silent ways of expressing his love for you. he often stares from a distance while you train, admiring how skilled you are, but he can't help but feel extremely proud whenever he has the chance to help you or give you tips. he loves to make sure you're being the best scout you possibly can be, because he genuinely wants you to push yourself and trust in yourself.

𖤐 levi often feels distracted with you during exhibitions, which turns out to be his weakness. even though he knows very well how good of a soldier you are, he is still too traumatized to let go of his fear of loss. he constantly watches you, demands you to stay in his sight and not do anything reckless. sometimes this turns into a disagreement with you two, and levi finds it difficult to let go of these fears. but with time and mutual understanding, you two work through the troubles.

𖤐 levi is extremely perceptive, which allows him to learn new things about you. he quickly remembers your routines, what you like to have for breakfast and which tea flavor you enjoy the most. he even somehow memorizes your menstrual cycle, believe it or not.

𖤐 levi is still very new to showing affection and talking about feelings, especially in a romantic way. he has always been a person who acts instead of speaking, so he finds doing different things for you easier than admitting his love verbally. you often start to prepare yourself tea, only to notice levi has already done it for you. you might find yourself being out of pads, but to your surprise, levi has gotten you new ones just before your cycle starts. these small things reminds you of how much levi truly cares for you, without him doing too much for you.

𖤐 levi notices your mood shifts. he notices when you don't eat, he notices your sadness and anxiety, but also your joy and happiness. he always offers a shoulder to lean on and never feels bitter if you're feeling great and he's not. he's happy when you are.

𖤐 levi needs time to adjust to physical contact. he has never experienced love or physical affection in his childhood, which makes it understandable that even hugs are tough for him.

𖤐 levi is not often jealous, even though you are his first girlfriend. he trusts you and knows you are loyal to him - but that doesn't mean he trusts other guys. whenever you might think he feels jealous, he doesn't. he just feels absolutely protective and possessive over you, every time some man looks at you the wrong way. only a subtle look is enough for him to be suspicious towards the man's intentions.

𖤐 levi feels that intimacy is extremely hard for him, since he has never been intimate with anyone before. but after some time, you two get intimate, and he loves to keep you close and hold you, as if he knows how vulnerable you feel. he always makes sure your pleasure and safety comes first.

[sirfrogsworth]

The Price of "Efficiency"

There is a classic story about writing in space. It typically goes something like,

"NASA spent millions of dollars developing an ink pen so they could write in microgravity.

Russia used a pencil."

It became a parable about efficiency and bloated, wasteful budgets and overcomplication.

And without nuance, it feels like a good lesson. It's a simple teaching you can store in your brain and it can help you avoid complication when simplicity will work just as well.

But the parable is a lie.

There is a reason they spent millions of dollars making a space pen. Pencils in space are fucking dangerous. If one splinter or shard or speck gets loose in zero gravity that fucker can float directly into your eyeball.

There is a more modern version of this story. Congress will look over NASA or the military's budget and ask why they need $400 hammers or bolts that cost $50 apiece. They will hold up a bag of bolts and tell the taxpayer they are getting screwed.

But the NASA hammer has the pencil problem. If a shard of steel breaks off that hammer in zero gravity, it's a big problem. It could float into an important electrical system and cause a short. Maybe even a fire.

And those bolts might be for a $50 million fighter jet. They need to be custom manufactured to extreme tolerances. And you'll be glad you paid for those $50 bolts because replacing the fighter jet will end up being much more costly.

This is a concept Elon Musk should understand considering his work at SpaceX. People often deride SpaceX when a rocket blows up. They see it as a giant waste. But that is a normal part of rocket development. If you want to make a better rocket, you cannot avoid blowing a few into smithereens.

Everything needs context.

You have to consider nuance before making huge unilateral decisions about apparent wasteful spending. The folks who run these programs should be allowed to defend their existence. But outside his own interests, Elon can only seem to see space pens when Russian pencils will suffice. He is looking at these programs and making no effort to see the nuance.

They say USAID gives more money to "governance" than they give to "humanitarian aid."

HOW WASTEFUL!

Except a lot of humanitarian aid gets stolen without government infrastructure to secure and deliver said aid.

Waste happens. Fraud happens. I have no doubt.

But figuring out what is *actually* wasteful is a difficult job that takes a lot of research and understanding.

But also, sometimes the fraud and the waste are worth it. Large companies will actually factor theft and fraud into their budget because it would be more costly to try and prevent it. They consider it "the cost of doing business."

But it seems no fraud or waste is acceptable to a conservative when the goal is helping people. 100% efficiency is required. You can't give all kids school lunches because some of those kids have rich parents. You can't give people disability income because some will take advantage.

Apparently if you can help millions of people but you have to absorb 10% of the cost due to fraud... well that is just unacceptable.

It's better to help no one at all.

Oftentimes Republicans will create anti-fraud programs that end up costing more than the actual fraud happening. And all the anti-fraud programs end up doing is making deserving people jump through extra hoops.

Get a lawyer. See an approved doctor. Gather 20 years of evidence that you've been disabled. Whoops, they didn't request the proper records. Start over.

That was basically my disability case. I was already on disability. They had already determined I was disabled 20 years ago. But I had to prove that I was disabled all over again to get the better kind of disability. They couldn't take their own word that I was disabled.

Those hoops were created because catching fraud is more important than helping people.

Not terribly efficient.

And then there is the "not our problem" approach.

Taxpayer money is "wasted" helping people in other countries. "We have homeless veterans! Why are we helping African babies?"

Giving out free condoms is one of the easiest and cheapest ways to stop the spread of disease. Sickness cares very little for imaginary borders. Saving lives in another country also saves lives here. It's mutually beneficial. We probably even prevented some of those homeless vets from getting infected.

No thought is being put into this scorched earth shit show.

As always... get fucked, Elon.