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kaiijo · 1 year ago

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WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)

you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.”

you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer.

you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”

“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”

“‘gentleman,’” you snort.

kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”

“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”

he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”

“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office.

when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”

you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”

kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”

“yeah?”

“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”

“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”

you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”

“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”

“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”

“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”

“you know i always have time for you.”

kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together.

“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”

you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”

he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”

you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you.

it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.

nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask.

he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word.

he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”

he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.

what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks.

thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”

he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”

“what are you talking about?”

he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”

you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”

“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”

“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”

“really?”

you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”

“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”

“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”

kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”

“good to know you’re a protective husband.”

he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”

“don’t i know it.”

as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”

your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”

a year and a half later.

nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”

“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say.

“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”

you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”

nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”

“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”

you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”

he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”

nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”

“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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palms-upturned · 6 months ago

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Hello this a long shot call, am a citizen of Palestine. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin (Humalog), just an injection for today to save my life please I beg.I was diagnosized with type 1 diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week. Am sorry if am sending you again this request, kindly donate any amount please. My donation link is in my pinned post🇵🇸

Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. This user is a known scammer. If you get any asks with this copy/pasted message, or from an account using this profile picture, it’s not real.

This person’s main donation post has “verified/vetted” in big red letters at the top. It is a lie. That’s why they don’t tag the person who supposedly verified them or provide a link. Even if a user claims to be verified, it’s important to double check. Cross reference el-shab-hussein and nabulsi’s spreadsheet and the Operation Olive Branch spreadsheet, and search the url/keywords from the fundraiser title in tumblr’s search bar. I have links to both spreadsheets, as well as gazafunds.com, in my pinned post. When answering an ask like this for a user that’s actually legit, linking to the verification will make it a lot easier for people to donate and share without hesitation.

I recognized this person immediately because el-shab-hussein has posted about this scam several times. I don’t have a link handy to any of Hussein’s posts about them, but people have been very kindly linking to these two users/posts so that when you search this url, you find proof of the scam.

An unverified fundraiser doesn’t always mean that it’s not legit, and I’ve been contacted by a lot of people who may not have been vetted at the time, but later on someone did verify them. It’s not necessarily a good idea to block unverified users right off the bat. I keep a list of users to search periodically for verification (or confirmation of a scam, if that is the case). But this person is a very well known scammer. If they contact you, just keep on sharing the proof of the scam and tell your followers to beware.

#asks #luckyprincessblog #scammers

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risoria · 7 months ago

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so. have you seen the pictures from Rafah of the blackened, charred infants? the toddler with no head?

i would like to ask a favour of everyone seeing this post, from one human to another. don't think about the things you can't do - because as it seems, nothing is enough, and nobody can do enough - there is no use to be paralyzed by these thoughts. instead focus on the things you are already doing and the things you can do. i will start by compile a small list of personal suggestions, and please add to it from your own resources! this list is not numbered, i will just add things that i can think of off the top of my head and if it is of any help to at least one person, thats good. take care of yourself - that includes taking care of others, and this world we live in.

this is obvious but keep listening to Palestinian voices. i am mostly active on twitter so i will give some examples from there: Hind_Gaza, HossamShabat, BayanPalestine (press). MuhammadSmiry, does community work with Care for Gaza. m7mdkurd. Everyone is saying mostly the same thing - keep talking, keep protesting, keep boycotting. so do it.

keep talking. humans are social animals and it's as simple as this: the ongoing genocide is dire, urgent and catastrophic - i dont think i need to tell you that. but when people, a lot of people, share posts with each other and reiterate this fact the urgency will be felt stronger by everyone, and reach people who would otherwise maybe not see the reports of the genocide on their screens. if people instead choose to stop sharing and stop talking because it's "been so long" or it's "too difficult", the suffering will become normalized and the only thing people will see on their feeds are mundane things - food, pets, fandoms, and it will send the message that oh, it's not that important after all.... sometimes, you SHOULD feel disturbed and uncomfortable. these feelings are not evil - they will be channelled into actions to better a situation and better the world. silence is violence.

search for protests near your town, sometimes they're hard to find but once you find your local organizations for the Palestinian movement, follow them and you will usually find them! this all depends on where you live of course - but most often there will be fundraisers and events and mailing campaigns etc, and the more people joining the better. and, most importantly i would say, share these events and pictures (no faces of strangers, ofc! from protests on your facebook, twitter etc - because that way people close to you will see them and that it's completely rational and normal to attend protests, and if they've been on the fence maybe they will reach out and join you.

donate if you are able and share links to the different organizations - some examples are Care for Gaza, Sulala animal rescue, the Gazan Municipality Life for Gaza project (https://gaza-city.ensany.com/campaign/6737), the PCRF.

individual gofundmes - here is the google doc with a lot of campaigns, but im sure there are lots of them that arent yet added: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1-DDMFyn-ttboPXrz1bB3MFk7BlzCwfugh4259Wh7U1s/htmlview

donate e-sims, which will be sent by the Esims for Gaza team to people in Gaza, to help communicate with their families etc during blackouts. it's very quick and easy and on nomad you can get a referral code which gives someone else 25% off their first purchase, and there's also often different bonus codes. on the website there's tutorials for how to buy the different esims. https://gazaesims.com/

there's some different charity shops where you can buy Palestinian products and the proceeds help Palestinian artisans and people. here are some examples, please add more if you know any: https://handmadepalestine.com/ (based in Ramallah, Palestine), https://forpalestine.dk/ (based in Denmark), https://www.shoppalestine.org/ (based in the US)

boycott!! the BDS of course have their targeted brands (https://bdsmovement.net/) but there's also for example the witness website with lists of brands and the reasons for boycotting them (https://boycott.thewitness.news/) and some different apps that do the same thing, like the "no thanks" app. yes, the list of brands is very, very long. maybe all of it isn't feasible BUT i think a good start would be to go through them and decide which ones are unnecessary either way that you're better off without (mcdonalds, starbucks etc), and then which ones are part of your usual shopping routine, make a mental note of them and pick different options - see it as an opportunity to try new things, to support local brands and smaller businesses!

go do yourself a favour and give Palestinian-Canadian artist Nemahsis' new single "stick of gum" a listen, it's super good! <3 https://youtu.be/VsqYlmf3SAg?si=EK_TZjo0Ijny8hMT

please, add more tips and resources below or just share your own pictures or art or thoughts!

#palestine #gaza #resources #please add on with your own! <3 #i just wanted to compile these links in one place and also bc i want to make a similar one for my facebook friends...

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hippiegoth97 · 2 months ago

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Random Steve Thought #1

I don't write Steve very often, but here we go! (also my first time writing daddy kink, so be nice!)

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, cock warming, daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, praise, unprotected sex, rough sex

Some tags: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @bimbogorewhore @queenimmadolla @keikoraven

@rattkween86 @morning-rituals @slowandsteddie @stalactitekilla @keeksandgigz

@strangererotica @thisusernameisunavailable01 @leelei1980

"Stop squirming, honey. You gotta be patient." Steve says in kind warning, his hands resting on your hips. You've been seated in his lap for the last hour, his stiff cock buried deep inside you. You'd been bothering him earlier while he was trying to work, teasing him and trying to tempt him into throwing his deadlines to the wayside for the sake of pleasing you. Unfortunately, it has backfired more than you could ever have imagined.

Steve made you strip, unbuckling his belt as you did so. He pulled his dick once you took your clothes off, giving it a couple of needy strokes. And then, he made you slowly sink down onto him, eating up the helpless whimper that escaped you as his thick cock split you open. Now here you sit, straddling the thighs of his khakis, waiting for him to let you start bouncing while he types away on his computer.

"Please, baby. I need it. Need you." You whine, your pussy constricting around him for the fiftieth time in this everlasting torture. It's taken everything in you to behave, any little shift Steve makes in his office chair makes you go just the tiniest bit more insane.

"Not yet, I'm not quite finished." Steve replies, too 'in the zone' to really pay much mind to your walls squeezing the hell out of him. It was tempting the first few times to give in and let you ride him to your heart's content, but now it's just a small, pleasurable action that motivates him to get his work done.

"Steve, you're killing me." You whine again, louder and more petulant this time. You decide to play a little dirty, leaning your head forward to start kissing his neck, whisper dirty things in his ear. If he wasn't so focused on his boring spreadsheets, you wouldn't dare to try this. Not if you didn't want to end up with your ass spanked raw, and get edged for far longer than this torment has gone on for. "Can't you feel how wet I am for you?" You ask against the firm skin of his throat, pressing a searing kiss on one of his freckles.

"I can." He answers simply, shifting a little in his seat at you teasing him. If he wasn't so close to finishing this damn thing, he'd be bending you over the desk to dole out your punishment. He allows you to keep going, letting out a muted groan when your teeth worry his flesh into a small bruise.

"Doesn't daddy wanna fuck this perfect little pussy? Hm?" You purr against the shell of his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth. He shivers at your words, making your smile spread. "C'mon, baby. Let me make you feel good. I'll do all the work, and you can get your little project done." You seductively suggest, backing up to meet his eyes. His glasses are perched on his nose, the numbers and columns of the spreadsheet reflected within the rectangular lenses.

Steve looks at you briefly, nodding his head. "Fine. Just don't block the screen." He gives you permission, and you nearly explode with happiness at getting what you desperately want.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You say with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his shoulder to keep it out of the way. You slowly lift yourself up, gasping at the first motion you've been able to make since you first sank down on Steve's fat cock. You let yourself land on him hard, your ass cheeks clapping together from the force. "Fuck." You moan as his tip hits your g-spot perfectly. You repeat this a few more times, your noises growing louder and more needy with each rough bounce.

"Enjoying yourself, honey?" Steve asks, pressing a kiss to your own neck as he reaches the last few rows he has to fill out.

"Mhm, feels so good, daddy. Love how big you are, how you fill me up." You almost mumble the words, already cock-drunk from sitting in his lap for so, so long. You start to bounce more steadily now, rolling your hips to hit all the right angles inside your cunt. Your orgasm grows quickly deep within your belly, a roaring fire building higher and higher with each passing second. Your nails dig into Steve's back as you ride him, your pace gradually picking up a few strokes at a time.

"That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock, fuck yourself on me as much as you want." Steve says through a moan, starting to feel the consequences of keeping himself sheathed inside you for so long. He's on the final line, nearly done with his work which feels utterly pointless now. Now, when he has you writhing in his lap like a bitch in heat, hopelessly trying to get yourself off. His fingers type furiously on the keyboard, the ceaseless clacking mingling with the slapping of skin and your beautiful noises.

"I'm getting close, Steve. Need you to help, make me cum, wanna make a big mess for you." Words of pleasure continue to spill from you, your climax nearing closer as you pick up speed yet again. Your muscles work overtime, riding Steve's dick with all your might. You can feel his balls tightening just behind you, he's right alongside you on the journey to bliss.

"You got it, baby." Steve says as he completes his work for the night. He doesn't even bother to close the program, or push away from his desk. The second his task is done, his hands meet your waist with a firm, yet loving grip. He leads you in your bounces, while also thrusting up into your soaked pussy. Your moans and whines only get louder, needier. And they are music to his fucking ears. "Look at me, honey. Watch daddy while he fucks you." He commands breathlessly, sweating through his shirt as his high approaches.

You lift your head to obey him, finding his bespectacled eyes boring into you with intense desire. "So close, so so close. Make me cum, need it so bad. Please, daddy, please, please..." You babble at him mindlessly, your brain completely shut off and only driven by the need to explode with ecstasy. You're almost in tears, clinging to his broad shoulders for dear life while you pound yourselves into one another.

"Keep going, baby. Such a good girl, you can do it. Make us both cum, help daddy make us cum." Steve murmurs back to you, just as drunk on your drenched pussy. The two of you don't stop, holding each other as close as you can, thrusting and bouncing like the world is going to end in the next thirty seconds.

Then, you feel it. The tell-tale signs of your orgasm. Your limbs start to go fuzzy, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear. Your insides begin to flutter, and an inhuman cry is just waiting to escape your lips. "Steve. Don't stop...Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum..." You gasp as you're right on the edge, ready to burst into flames. "Oh, FUCK!" You cry out as the waves of bliss finally wash over you, crashing down hard as your thighs tremble.

"That's it, baby. Good girl." Steve grunts as your walls snap around him so tight, bringing him down right alongside you. "Shit." He hisses as thick white ropes spill from his cock, coating your insides with the sticky cum you crave. A long, low groan leaves him as he rides out both of your highs, thrusting into your pussy harsher and quicker until the pleasure dissolves. His head falls back, a sigh of satisfaction leaving his lips. You collapse forward into him, breathing hard against his shirt. "That's my girl." Steve coos, stroking your damp hair as the bright light of the computer shines down on your glistening body, all fucked-out and pretty, stinking of sex and sweat. Just the way he likes it.

#hippiegoth97 #fanfiction #smut #stranger things #hawkins #1980s #random steve thoughts #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction

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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago

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Wild. (Rudy x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, MINORS DNI! unprotected p in v sex, (sorry if I missed any.)

*not edited*

When people think of Rudy they think of him as a kind, gentle, loving man. And they’re not wrong, not at all. He’s gentle, he’s a good problem solver. He’s good at soothing people when they’re upset in any way. He’s good at de-escalating situations, and he’s a phenomenal getaway driver.

Everyone knows Rudy is a family man, but he doesn’t talk much about his wife. Alejandro has only met her a couple of times and knows that she’s quiet and reserved.

But everything was about to change, because you were coming to work on base as a bookkeeper for Alejandro.

—

When people met you, they were surprised. You were stunning which made sense because of course, Rudy was good looking. But than, talk started around the base.

Alejandro had overheard very gross conversations between a few of his men, making them do push ups and handing out suspensions like candy on Halloween. He didn’t expect Rudy’s wife of all people to be such a big topic. You got plenty of glances from the men on base and it made you uncomfortable and Alejandro was furious obviously. They looked like a pack of hungry wolves and it was absolutely ridiculous behavior.

After about a month or so, everything finally calmed down. Everything slowly started going back to normal, but you were still getting cat called. They would say gross things to you, stare you down. They were ridiculous.

You were sitting in the mess hall, figuring out a spreadsheet and drinking coffee. Rudy and Alejandro were getting coffee, and you were getting frustrated with the conversations you were overhearing from the table near you. “Yeah, I’d hit that. There’s no way Rudolfo is satisfying that.”

That was your last straw. You let out a very exaggerated sigh, standing up and pushing your chair in. Which gathers a few glances from those around you. You stand there with the spreadsheets in your hand. Leaning up against the table with your arms crossed. “You know I’m sitting 5 feet away from you, I can hear absolutely everything you’re saying.” You say. This catches the attention of everyone, including Rudy and Alejandro who are waiting for coffee. “Yeah? So what. Nothing I said was untrue.” He shrugs. He smiles.

You send him a very fake smile.

“Listen.. Sergeant Ramirez right? There’s a reason that none of the women on this base interact with you. Because you’re a total creep who keeps talking about having sex with a married woman.” You laugh. “I don’t know why my sex life is sooooo interesting to you, but since you must know, it’s great. Rudy is satisfying me just fine, I’m a VERY happy wife. But thanks for your.. weirdly obsessive concern.” You step closer, your face only a few inches from his. “If I hear you say “I’d hit that.” One more fucking time, I’m going to hit you right in the jaw with my fist. Am I clear?” You narrow your eyes at him. He’s clearly embarrassed, nodding his head. “Great!” You say. Walking away from your table, down the hall. “Jesus Christ.” Alejandro laughs. “Didn’t realize she had such a fire in her.” Rudy laughs, bringing his coffee up to his lips. “Oh, no tienes idea del tipo de actitud que domino en el dormitorio.” He takes a drink of his coffee, trying not to smile when Alejandro nearly chokes on his. “Jesus Rudy!” He laughs.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Rudy laughs. He’s not wearing his normal gear yet, still just wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. Wearing that signature comfortable grey jacket he has. He opens the door to your room, seeing you looking over something. “Hey. You alright, amor?” He breathes. You nod your head. Turning to look at him. “Don’t let them get to you.. they’re just.. immature.”

“They don’t get to me, I just hate that they think you’re so soft.” You narrow your eyes, an evil grin playing at your lips. “The Rudy I know is far more devilish than they know.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah? That’s cause I have to do something to combat that fucking attitude of yours.” He crosses his arms. You roll your eyes. “Fuck you Rudy.” You laugh. “Sí, te gustaría eso, ¿no?” He smirks. “Quizás lo haría.” You reply. He snorts, locking the door behind himself. He pushes his jacket off, discarding it on the floor as he makes his way toward you. He cups your face, kissing you hard. Helping you pull your clothes off, only stopping to tug your shirt off. He reaches for his belt but you stop his hand. “Keep it on.” You breath.

He rolls his eyes.

He grasps your wrist, tugging you until your back is to him. His lips ghosting by your ear. “I forgot..” he chuckles. The fabric of his shirt burns your bare skin. “You like the way it rattles when I fuck you.” He whispers. “I hope you think about the way I fuck you anytime you hear something rattling.” He growls, pushing you down onto the bed. You whine as he pulls your hands behind your back, lining his cock up with your aching hole. When he sinks into you, you’re gasping out. Trying to take in a breath. Turning to look at him. He pushes your hips into the mattress, rutting his hips into you. “Fuck Rudy-“ you gasp. He’s breathing hard as he fucks into you, gritting his teeth. No matter how many times he was inside of you, he’d never get used to it.

He tries to keep you quiet as he rocks his hips into yours but he doesn’t really care who hears at this point anymore. You push your hips back into him, and he smiles as he moves away. “I wanna ride you.” You breathe. He smiles. He sees your chair, sitting down in it and you move quickly sit in his lap, lining him up with your entrance again, moaning as you sink down onto him. He rests his hands on your hips, looking up at you as you start to rock your hips into him. “Fuck..” he sighs. “You’re so fucking good at this.” He breathes. “Siéntete tan jodidamente bien mi amor.” He breathes, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes are dark and loving as he looks up at you. “God, no wonder they think you’re so sweet, stop looking at me like that.” You breath, pushing down on his chest and rocking into him, raising up off of him more, taking more of him down. “Ah-“ he moans, a smile still on his face. “I’m not doing anything.” He mutters. “Yeah you are, you keep looking at me like you love me or something.” You giggle, a gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts up into you. “Maybe that’s just because I love you. Love that attitude, love your personality.” He breathes. “Love this perfect body you have, love the way you make me feel. And god do I love watching you put people in their fucking place.” He gasps. Thrusting up into you faster. You clutch onto the chair for dear life. “Me vuelves loca de mierda.” He gasps, tilting his head back.

You cup his cheeks, kissing him as he holds your hips, thrusting up into you. He can feel you getting tighter around him, and he’s fucked you enough to know that you’re close, so he stands up with you, lays you back on your bed, and hammers his hips into yours until your crying out his name. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me.” He breathes. “Muéstrame lo buena chica que eres.” He growls. You reach your peak with a gasp, eyes screwing shut and he pins your hips to the bed so that you can’t squirm away from him as he rides out your high. He grits his teeth, letting out a cry when he reaches his own orgasm. Not pulling out of you even when he knows he should.

He takes a deep breath. Pulling away from you with a sigh, moving himself to lay next to you.

When you make eye contact, he’s got that same look in his eye that makes you laugh. “What?” He rolls his eyes. “Nothing, I love you.” You breathe. “I love you too. Now Cmere.” He breathes, pulling you into him.

A knock at the door has you both going stiff.

“I think you’ve made your point, hermano.”

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

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Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Right... I just have so much love for all of you and the support I've been getting on this... mind blowing! I hope y'all will enjoy this!😭✨🤍

warnings: cursing, mental health struggles, puking and angst just the same sweet angst.

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Carmen knew something was off. The moment you stepped out of the office. You were there, but your mind was elsewhere. You looked almost dazed. Fighting some battles Carmen didn't know of. So even if the heat of the kitchen was burning all around him, Carmy stopped. Striding away from his spot as he crosses the distance between the two of you. You flinched only when his fingers were slowly creeping against your upper arm. "You okay? Are you good?", he asked through the clicks of the pots.

Yet what brought all of the oxygen out of Carmy was the way you looked up at him. It was a look he had never seen on your face. Never directly at him. There was no way he could even describe that look. Sadness? Yet it didn't seem deep enough. Anger? The flames were barely sparkling. Disappointment? It looked more like a never-ending orb of nothingness. You were looking at him, but you might as well be looking through him, behind him.

"Darling", Carmen breathed, and you swallowed quickly, nodding your head. "Well, well. Where do you need me?" The tone of your voice nearly chilled Carmen's blood. Once again, there were no emotions that twisted through it. And that scared him because he did not know what was going on. And he wished he knew, "Are you sure?", he asked softly, moving to touch your face, but you slipped past his fingers. Humming as you step deeper into the kitchen, Carmy bit down on the frustration that suddenly blossomed within him. Trying to keep it down. At bey. To put a leash on it so it wouldn't come out clacking its teeth at you.

He turns back to you, calling out your name once more. The moment your eyes are on him, Carmen rubs his fist over the left side of his chest. Do the same thing, he begs in his mind; do the same thing. Calm down my mind. Tell me this is something we'll talk about in the privacy of our home. You watched the gesture. Watched. Nodded your head a couple of times, but the nods didn't even look like a nod of agreement. Just a look at something. Someone who wasn't fully there.

Maybe it was stupid that you didn't just address it. You knew you should have. Isn't that what grownups do? Get to the root of the problem and solve it. They don't run away from it. But you couldn't. A twisted part of you wanted to wait for Carmy to say it himself. Bring whoever Claire was himself. You had watched him pick up his phone during family. Fork still in your hands. You had left the messages open. It would have been the first thing he saw when he opened it. You waited for him to get uncomfortable. Frown maybe. Stager at the sight of it, but he didn't. Instead, a light smile softened his features. A fucking smile. The only person you'd seen him smile at was you. No one had received a single smile here in New York from Carmy. And here your form of reality was being crushed right in front of your eyes as you watched him eagerly type the reply.

Now you're here. In your bed. With what you now struggle to pinpoint as your boyfriend sprawled beside you, hand over your stomach, light snores leaving his mouth. You knew you could have. The phone was right there. You could unlock it. See what Carmy had to say in reply, but you couldn't bring yourself to. From the very start, trust was something you valued. Both of you did, or at least you thought you did. You both were the victims of late nights and schedules that overlapped. You had tried putting up a spreadsheet of your work and class times so you could cross over the free slots. Did it work? No, but you two had laughed over it at four am while eating shit gas station ice cream cones Carmy had bought.

"Do you believe in happily ever afters?", your head was hanging off the side of the couch, and your legs were up against the back cushions. Carmy was twisting a bottle of beer in his hand. This conversation was so random. You two had just started exploring the beginnings of the feelings blossoming within your chests. Here is the tiniest living room in New York at odd hours because that's how life was back then. "No", he said almost immediately, making you turn your head towards him. "Why not?", Carmy chuckled nervously, "There's no such thing as never-ending happiness". You had struck up a big fight there about that with him. "But would you want that? An ending like that?", you were ready to agree to disagree. Tiredness was already making you delusional. Carmy halted his answer here and took the last sip from his bottle before saying, "I think people are selfish. They want to have things constantly, but they never hold onto them in the end".

You wished you had let those words sink into you back then. Let the weight of them press into you. Because you had brushed it off way too soon. But that was the first and only time you had gotten so close. Truly get to the core of Carmy. Fuck sex. It brought bodies together. Minds too, if the bodies were truly in sync. But you can have sex with someone without even knowing them fully. The bliss of it all covered up the voids of the unknown.

Always have, but never hold. The words spun and spun in your head. Who was this man lying beside you? Did you know him? How long has he been seeing someone else? Was he even doing that, or were you being paranoid? You looked down at his sleepy face, so calm and without a single frowning line. Your fingers mindlessly ran over the scars and little freckles on his face. All these little, tiny details that had imprinted themselves in your brain. That you remembered in the back of your head. That you would remember even if he changed his mind and started loving someone else.

Bile rose in your throat, and you tried to breathe through it. But the thoughts kept on coming, snapping at the sides of your mind. Over and over and over and over and over. Bringing waves of nausea. And then it overflowed. You reached for the blanket, ripping Carmy's hand off your body as you rushed towards the bathroom. The dinner came right up, or at least the total of two bites you had managed to swallow, even if Sydney was nudging your side playfully, trying to lighten the mood and get you to eat something more. Then the acid rose next. Making the gagging more unbearable. You felt hands pulling your hair away from your face, and you jumped at the sensation. You knew it was Carmy, and it only made the tears that much more painful.

"Breathe through it; try not to gag aimlessly", Carmy's voice was soft, tired but soft, as he ran his hand up and down your back. "Do you still feel like throwing up?", he asked after flushing the water. Your body felt clammy. Cold but on fire at the same time. Your forehead was pressed into the side of the toilet seat as you tried to breathe. Tried to get the nausea away, yet moved to gag once more. But your mind was singing the same tune over and over. I'm so glad I got to see you again. I miss your silly face already. Your body trembled; the cold bathroom tiles soothed the nausea, yet your bones were catering from within, it seemed. Carmen didn't rush you, and for that, we're thankful. One more jab and you might just break.

Carmen was worried. He got woken up by your sharp movements, and the moment the gagging filled the quiet space, he was up. He wondered if your offbeat mood the whole evening was just the beginning of what was happening now. Maybe you were feeling off. Maybe there was something wrong with the food he gave you. But fuck, what if he poisoned everyone who ate? What if people, the customers, will be piling outside the restaurant tomorrow morning with papers in their hands, wanting to file reports? What if they sue him? Carmy would lose the last thing that tied him to Mikey. He couldn't. No, but what if... Another gag pulled Carmy out and back to the present.

"Do you want some water?", he leaned in to take a better look at your face, which was covered in beads of cold sweat. You shook your head, but Carmy still filled one up, "Wash your mouth at least; it'll feel better". You pulled yourself away from the toilet, palms pressed to the cold ground. Carmy pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder, watching you. His gaze burned your skin and face, but you didn't have it in you to say anything about it. Your head lulled back, and Carmy quickly moved behind you, catching it on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Do you think... should I get a doctor?", his tone sounded so much more panicked now as he ran his fingers over your skin. Things like this frightened him; you know about that. He was scared that any form of illness was going to take away the last and maybe only thing he truly cared about. But you shook your head.

You didn't have it in you. You could explain. Tell him it was panic and anxiety that had dragged you here, but you couldn't bring yourself to it. "No..", you whispered just as another sob slipped past your lips, and your hand instantly came to rest on Carmy's. "Just... hold me", you blurt out, breaking completely after that. All the nerves flowed freely down your cheeks alongside your tears. "Hold me, Carmy", and he did. And it's selfish. It's wrong, but you curl into him. Wrapping your whole body all around him. Clinging to him like a child. Letting his heat pour into you. Welcoming it. Trying to take handfuls of it in case he decides to take it away eventually. Rob you of the only happiness you had.

The days after that were a blur. You didn't leave the bed, and Carmy once again says nothing. He did slip back home early, sometimes even making midday stops. Bringing food that you rarely touched. Going as far as bringing home flowers, something he hadn't done since the first weeks of you two being together. You wondered if he ever noticed that you always kept and dried some of the petals from the bouquets that he gifted you. Now you just stared at the delicate, barely blooming things on the kitchen table while they stared at you. Until it got too heavy. Too real, and you dragged yourself back to the bedroom.

It had been close to a week when you found yourself walking the same old streets leading to the restaurant. The numbness had subsided. You managed a basic conversation with Carmen without bursting into tears. That was enough for the guilt of not doing enough in the restaurant and not helping Carmy grow. So after an hour-long shower, you quickly pulled your hair into a messy bun, threw some old baggy jeans on, pulled one of the older Carmy's hoodies on, and headed out.

"Get out of my way", Sydney's voice rang out even through the chaos of the kitchen assembly. A shiver ran through your body. What a hellhole this was if it had turned that girl into a shouting mess within days. "Fuck off, leave me alone", she barked, and you quickly stepped forward. Raising a warning finger at Tina, who was about to speak up. "Are you sure?", Marcus's gentle voice filled your ears. "I'm fucking sure! You ask Carmy if he was sure. You don't", the full force of Sydney's voice sent ripples through the place. What had happened here to make everyone so on edge? "So stick to your shit", she spat back at Marcus, who stood dead silent there.

You loved the guy. He was as sweet as a honey bun. Not a single bad bone in his body. So you gently rested your hand on his back, running it up and down in a comfortable manner. His eyes fell on you, and like a wave of relief, a wave of ease flowed through them. "Y/N", he muttered as you smiled at him softly, letting him wrap you up in a side hug for a moment. "Step out, chef", you murmured, patting his chest. "I'll take it from here", Marcus only nodded, giving Sydney one more apologetic look before slipping out of the freezer.

When the doors were barely open, you turned back to Sydney, who was standing there looking as on edge as you had felt all of this time. You reached your hands towards her. "Come here", you mumbled, inviting her into your embrace. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, shaking her head no. But you still stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her gently, and her frozen figure instantly let up. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry", she muttered as a couple of tears fell from her eyes. "Yeah, not a big deal. Breathe for a minute, mhm?", you said softly, giving her time to feel it out. Give her enough breathing space. "This place sucks ass", she sighed, her head resting on your shoulder. "Tell me about it", you breathed out with a light chuckle.

"Fuck Carmy too, and I'm sorry, but fuck him", the amazement in her voice you had heard before when she talked of him was long gone. "He put so much shit on, wants me to do so much, but then.. then he takes off running", pulling away, Sydney runs her hands over her face in frustration. Then she stops, looking at you for a moment, and says, "I thought he was running to you, so I...", she must have seen the expression on your face because Sydney's voice died down, and she just nodded her head. You lowered your eyes to the floor. Ran off. Claire, no doubt. In a rush. Probably all excited. Probably even glad that you weren't around here much.

"You look like shit,", Sydney breathed out, "Sorry, but...", she shook her head, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "No, no, I saw myself in the mirror before I left. I know I look amazing", you air-quoted the last word, and Sydney snickered alongside you. You sat there for some time. Just letting the rare moment of silence surround you. "You don't let them kill your spark; you hear me", you said, turning to Sydney and gently tapping her thigh, "Throw shit back at them, but don't let them take away what you love most". Her eyes watched you, just like the first time you told her that you were proud of her. Just this time she leaned over, embracing you in another hug before muttering, "You don't know how much this means to me". But you knew. Because you knew how much it meant to you and how many times you hoped that someone would say those same words to you. But just like St. Frances's prayer went, Where there is darkness, let me be light.

"I'll be back as soon as possible", Carmy's voice rang through your apartment as he was getting ready to leave. He had opted for one of the later mornings. Drank coffee with you and ate at the same table. "I want to go to that market with you", he said while putting on the shirt. "We can", you muttered back, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. "Stop by to eat before we go", Carmy stepped closer to you, hands resting on your hips as he looked at you.

"We'll get through this", he muttered, leaning against you. "I love you; take care of yourself today", he said, cupping your face in his hands. Carmy pressed a kiss on your forehead. Your hands sneaked beneath his shirt, fingers dancing on his naked skin, which was always way warmer than yours. You hesitated for a moment. Not sure if your decision was the right one. "Can we talk tonight? I want to talk about this. What's going on", your voice was barely a whisper, but from the way Carmy's eyes glistened, you knew that he heard you just fine. He smiled softly at you, kissing your forehead once more before bringing you closer to his embrace. "We'll talk later," he said, "Talk about it all if you want". You followed him to the door, holding onto his hand until Carmy had stepped far enough away from you, his fingers slipping through yours. "Be more gentle with them today", you called after him. Carmy looked up from the staircase and said, "Heard, chef".

You had found joy in cleaning the space for the time. Going as far as unpacking all the kitchen stuff from the boxes. A light smile on your face as you slowly filled out the empty shelves and drawers, sorting everything out just like you knew that Carmy was going to love it. Maybe that's another part of what's been missing—this sense of stability and belonging. You never wanted to stay in New York for long; sure, Carmy was doing wonders there, but you had hoped that you two would move to a smaller, less crowded city after you were done with your studies. Finally, start something new for yourself. Life sure altered those plans, but you also helped it get worse. Those boxes could have easily been unlocked weeks ago. You just mentally told yourself not to.

You had just finished cutting up the empty boxes when the doorbell rang. Strange, you thought as you looked at the clock. It was way too early for Carmy to be home, and you weren't even supposed to meet here. Maybe he left his keys and wallet? Something for the restaurant? You dropped the box cutter to the side, getting up quickly and paddling towards the door. "What did you...", but your voice died down almost as soon as it started. You blinked a couple of times, "How can I help you?".

The girl shifted awkwardly, backing away so she could look at the number above the door before she took a second glance at you. "I'm looking for Carmen", she said, a smile spreading across her face. "I think this is the right apparent, but... He never said someone lived with him". You clenched the door handle in your hand so hard that your knuckles turned white. "Let me guess, Claire?". you said through gritted teeth. She smiled so brightly that, for a split second, the urge to punch her was burning bright within you.

"Same old, can I come in?", she pointed to the still somewhat ajar door, "I can just wait for him inside; I won't bother you". You clenched your jaw. You weren't even sure what you were thinking. If she knew where he lived. If he had told her that. Was he hoping you would get out of the apartment sooner to do your daily walk to the local gallery and he could just be here with her? "Of course, make yourself at home", you yanked the door open, moving to the side.

"So you two are roommates?", she asked so innocently, making you let out a chuckle as you watched her move around the place. "Yeah, it might be just that", you said bluntly, still unsure of what to do next. "And you two? How do you know him?", you asked after a while, your tone more than bitter. Her face softens as she sits down on the little, run-down sofa. "Childhood sweethearts, been Claire Bear ever since", she chimed, and you could swear you heard your heart breaking. A nickname. He had even given her a nickname. And she must have been his first, meaning that all you two had... Everything Carmy said was just between you and he was a lie. You blinked quickly a couple of times.

"How sweet...", you muttered, turning away from her, as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, but you quickly wiped them off. "You know...", you said, turning back to her. Letting yourself glance at how stunning she was. "Good you're here; I was just moving out and had to run", you blurt out. "I'll leave you here with the keys if you don't mind", plastering the fakest smile, you watched her nod before you darted towards your bedroom. Yanking the first box in front of you open, shoving random stuff into your bag. Kicking random stuff out of your way. You wanted to scream about how stupid you were. Was that why Richie hated you? He must know about her. All of them. All of his family. Maybe they even think they are together, and then who were you, some random bimbo showing up uninvited?

You thought about just walking out like that. You didn't own any of them anything. Especially not her, but you still halted, "Do tell Carm that I'm proud of him; he did a good job", and with that, you slipped out. Rushing down the stairs.

You barely saw where you were going through the tears that were now flowing freely down your cheeks. Was taking the car a bad idea? Yes, but you needed to get as far away from all of this. Another person honked at you, making you swirl the steering wheel in the opposite direction. You weren't thinking straight; you knew that. Equally, as much as you know that you shouldn't be driving now. You weren't even sure if you could stop where you did, but you were beyond caring. Quickly shuffling through your bag, you reached for your phone. You wiped your eyes messily as you tried to find the right caller id.

There was no one here. You didn't have a family here. There were no friends you could crash at. This wasn't your city. You should have never come here in the first place. "Bunny, bunny, bunny", the smooth voice quickly replaced the calling sound, and you clapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sob from slipping through your lips. "Long time no call. I was starting to think you had forgotten about me", it called out, you shook your head even if no one could see it. Your insides felt like they were going to explode. The line went silent. You tried to speak up, but you just couldn't get a single sound to escape your throat. "Bun?", it called out again, much more concerned this time. Just how you wished someone would have been considered for you ever since. That broke the last string within you, making you let out such a heartbreaking sob that you felt sorry for yourself at the moment. You just cried there until you could finally pull yourself together enough to mutter, "Luca".

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Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #the bear x you #the bear tv show #the bear x reader #the bear imagine

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months ago

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Congrats Sapph 👏 How about a Sunflower for Matt where Matt surprises Reader with a baked treat (store bought or homemade is up to you) after an awful, terrible, no good, very bad day?

Trudging towards your apartment door, your feet ached terribly. You’d been running around all day, mimicking a chicken with its head cut off no doubt, trying to meet your employer's impossible standards as you approached the end of the quarter. The stress of the month was palpable within your office, keeping you and your coworkers huddled in cubicles--ready to snap at any passing distractions.

You'd forgone many simple comforts in order to meet deadlines this week, which had steadily worsened your mood. Morning coffee with Matt. Slow, ambling walks to work, stopping for a pastry or a bagel from the corner deli. Even the pleasure of taking time to eat your lunch, rather than wolfing it down at your desk while tediously reviewing an Excel spreadsheet.

Your mornings were starting earlier than ever, forcing you to press a hasty kiss to Matt's cheek before you dashed into the dawn-lit city without him. Nights had become equally unsatisfying, tension at work leaving you so strung out you shoveled a slapped-together bowl of leftovers into your mouth before collapsing into bed before Matt even left the office.

Matt, always the loving boyfriend, hadn't complained once--instead leaving supportive messages on your phone and stocking the fridge with take out. Being forced to neglect your criminally compassionate partner was slowly breaking your heart.

A few more days and the madness would be over. The thought made you want to sob; the light at the end of the tunnel still seemed impossibly far away.

Sliding your rusted key into the lock, you unlatched the bolt and shouldered into the apartment. Toeing off your shoes, you inhaled shakily, tears building on your waterline. With dragging footsteps, you rounded the corner into your studio and gaped.

”What..the..fuck?“

The exasperated question meandered through the destroyed space as you stood staring at the mess. Your kitchen was in ruins. Flour and sugar coated your counters, used mixing bowls were strewn across every flat surface, and there was another pile of dishes in your sink. Eyes flitting around the room, you verified that you hadn't somehow broken into a neighbor's place.

As far as you knew, your place had been comfortably disheveled this morning. Chaotic but organized. What on earth had happened when you were at work? Had the pilsbury dough boy been murdered in your home?

Rage tangling with the confusion in your chest, you stalked towards the mess, swiping a finger through the residue on your countertops. Before you could decide whether to laugh or cry at your own misfortune, the door opened, making you jump.

Down the hallway, bearing a bashful smile, was Matt.

”I am so sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time.” Pacing over to you, Matt extended his arms, letting you fall against him. The paper bag in his left hand crinkled as he tightened the embrace. ”I will clean all of this up, I promise.“

”Um, what..what are you doing here?“ You settled on a less frustrated question, knowing Matt's explanation would probably wash your anger away.

”I was hoping to have a snack ready for you when you got home. You've been having such a tough few weeks, I wanted to do something for you. So I called your mom for that pumpkin cake recipe you like so much.“ One hand kneading your back, Matt unwrapped the parcel with his other hand. ”But your nutmeg was expired and I wanted it to be perfect so I--“

”You're making a pumpkin roll?“ You asked in surprise, your vision blurring with tears as your emotions overwhelmed you.

”I was trying!“ Matt chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”I'm so sorry about the mess. I didn't mean to stress you out.“

”You didn't.“ You sniffled, tears falling in earnest now. ”I mean, maybe at first, but I don't care about the dishes now. You're just...“

Reluctantly allowing Matt to step away from you, your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed the damp trails from your cheeks with his fingertips. ”I'm just what?“ Matt smirked, clearly holding back an affectionate laugh.

Diving back into his chest, you nuzzled his shoulder with a sigh. ”Perfect, Matt. You're perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Why don't you go turn something on the TV while I finish in the kitchen?”

Nearly groaning at how heavenly Matt's suggestion sounded, you pecked his lips before pulling away. “Sit with me once it's in the oven?”

“Of course, love.” Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, Matt whisked off to finish what he'd started, leaving you to stare after him with a look of gratitude.

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morroodle · 6 months ago

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So recently I started a new, ninjago themed playthrough of my beloved Cult of the Lamb and it has led to some very funny things

Kai got that quest line thing where you make another follower eat poop 2 times then imprison them then kill them and it was targeted at Garmadon. Cannon.

They are friends :D

My wife <333 (she fits as Leshy so well!)

Yea that fits

Green cousins got drunk then Wu died of old age and they immediately started fighting. I broke them up and they fought again. Repeat 2 more times. This has got to be the most cannon thing that has happened

On one of my runs I ended up with the ax and a x2 attack speed buff and it was so overpowered cause I could hit hard as fast as I could click. The next run I ended up with 7 demons. This game is great!

Don't have pictures of it but I have begun breeding followers. Zane and Pixal made Minipix and then I bred Cole and Jay (I was NOT intending to keep the egg I just needed some yolks and they were compatible) but then they gave me my first golden egg so i made Joel the usher robot from the nightmare love triangle in season 3. Once I get a Geo I will be making the finder childeren :D also I had to wait a while to get Lloyd because I specifically wanted him to be the child of Garmadon and Misako and it took me forever to unlock the mating tent.

And finally: the event my followers (the ones who survived) my followers will forever remember as the great abaabandonment. I'm not actually sure what happened but i think the game might have somehow remained unpaused while I was eating dinner and looking at bedframes. I didn't notice when I got back until I got a notification that The Overlord (what I renamed The One Who Waits aka a follower who is supposed to be IMMORTAL) died. At that point I fucking booked it back and returned to find an absolute disaster

A total of 15 followers died. The only ones who survived were Wu and Garm, the ninja and Morro (aka the important ones). Wu, despite being a disciple, was dissenting. 2 followers had already dissented enough that they ran away and I got a notification that if I didn't fix things FAST then half of my remaining followers would also leave. There were so many corpses. I still haven't recovered. I am so sorry my babies.

I have a spreadsheet of all my followers and all the ninjago characters I plan to make into followers. Top half is good guys, bottom half is bad guys, green is alive and red is dead.

I'm waiting to do the serpentine until after I unlock the snake follower form but in order to do that I have to find all the lore and I have found none of it despite thoroughly beating the game ;-;

Anyway I'm having fun. I'll update with any future shenanigans.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago garmadon #ninjago wu #ninjago morro #ninjago lloyd #ninjago preeminent #games #videogames #gaming #cult of the lamb #cotl

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copperbadge · 1 year ago

Note

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month #digital cleaning

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topazadine · 3 months ago

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How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)

Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes

I've shared some tools before to help improve your speed and motivation, which include:

Using a word count spreadsheet

Working on only one WIP at a time

Leverage StimuWrite and Cold Turkey

.... but I still have a few more tricks, which I'll share now.

Why should you listen to me? I've written over 2 million words of fiction since 2021. That's a lot, more than many people write in a lifetime.

This is despite the fact that I also write 22,000 words every week for my day job. I do around 10k of creative fiction a week. And there's also the time I spend writing these articles for you, the lovely people of Tumblr, which is around 4-5k per week.

So, all told, I probably do around 37,000 words (creative, informative, and otherwise) every single week.

I did that by following these tips.

Separate the work into stages.

First, let's outline the stages of work (or at least the stages I use). You may have a different setup, and that's fine - if you do have a system that works for you, then you probably don't need my post at all. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore my advice.

But if you do not have a system, consider mentally separating things into these parts.

Active Writing. When I am busy doing the draft. It is both the most precarious and productive time; everything else related to books goes on the backburner. I am doing nothing writing-related but writing. No discussing the work unless I'm stuck somewhere, no making moodboards, NOTHING. This is my sacred time when I am in the thick of things and I put Writing Blinders on.

Percolation. I am done with the first draft. I set the piece aside and do other things like reading other novels, outlining another story, answering tag games, playing with moodboards, or putting everything aside and focusing on other hobbies. This is so I can come back to revisions with a fresh set of eyes. It keeps the story in my mind and can even help me discover new things I want to add.

Revision. After I have had a beta reader check things out, I go back and start fixing things. Then it percolates again. I repeat percolating and revising as many times as I feel necessary. Many times, I will have one beta reader look at it, then revise, and then have another beta reader look at it, each one getting a slightly different version of the story so I can compare what they liked or disliked.

Prepublishing. Most authors' least favorite part: marketing and telling people about your book so that they want to read it when it is ready. That includes stuff like making mood boards, doing tag games, sending out ARCs, setting up adds, posting on social media, and so on.

Again, ONE STEP AT A TIME. Do not blend all of these into a slurry.

I will say that this time around, with Pride Before a Fall, I ordered the cover before I was done with the book because I had a very clear vision of what I wanted.

Talk less, write more.

This is similar to the problem I highlighted in my Double Outlining post; the more you talk about your story, the more you trick your brain into thinking that you've done the work when you categorically have not.

Plus, the time you spend talking about your book is time you spend not writing your book. We can't do both simultaneously.

I don't really talk about my stories while I'm doing them, not even with my family. I may post a line or two, and I may tell people the basic plot, but I'm not spending hours discussing them with anyone unless I need advice on what to do next. Even then, it's more like "hey what do you think about this? Good? Cool, off I go."

Please get out of the habit of exhaustively picking apart your work with other people during the Active Writing stage. That can come during the Percolating and Revising stages.

Devote all your love and attention to one story.

Yes, I've mentioned this in a whole entire post, but I need to emphasize just how important it is to write stories one at a time. Working on a million things at once is not efficient; it's scatterbrained.

Force yourself to do ONE story. Just one. Not two or three or five. ONE.

Again, I've written 132 stories on AO3 (two of which are 100k+, multiple of which are 50k+), published one book, and written 5 of the upcoming manuscripts for the 10-part Eirenic Verses series. I am a very productive writer, and that is because I do everything one at a time.

Don't tell yourself "oh, I can get more done if I do a little bit on this one and that one and that one."

Can a chess player win three games of chess if they play all of them simultaneously? Uh, probably not. Each of their opponents is devoting everything to one game while their concentration is split between three different boards.

And you're not going to win either if you're playing twenty games of Write the Book simultaneously.

Do not mess around with moodboards, tag games, character questionnaires, playlists, etc, during Active Writing.

I discussed this in my Extremely Controversial Writing Opinions, but it bears repeating.

Do all of that stuff later, after you are done, as a marketing tool. It's procrastination, plain and simple.

Any time I get sucked into tag games or moodboards while writing, I get less done because I'm devoting time and energy to something that doesn't actually enhance my book.

It's one thing to do character questionnaires while you're figuring out a character, but quite another to stop what you're doing and tell everyone what your character's favorite food is.

Is that helping you get the project done? No, it is not. Log out of Canva. Turn on Cold Turkey to block Tumblr or Twitter. Leave that stuff alone.

Read short stories.

You know you need to read to become a good writer, but taking hours out of your day to read a novel while you're drafting your own novel can take away from your writing process.

That's not to say you shouldn't ever read novels, of course, but you can do that while you're in between projects.

During my active writing phase, I like to read a short story before I get started on working. This gives me inspiration and primes my creative pump so I'm excited to do my best.

Reading short stories also helps me focus on brevity rather than long-winded diatribes, which lets me pack more into a story.

Don't reread your work during Active Writing.

It's easy to get sucked into rereading and then not get anything new done; plus, this makes you want to revise, which should come later.

Reread only as much as you need to fix plot holes or remind yourself of where you're going. Refusing to reread also lets you look at your work with fresh eyes during revisions.

Make a writing ritual.

You need to tell your brain that it is writing time. This could be anything, like brushing your teeth right before you sit down to write, or drinking coffee out of one specific coffee cup when you are in writing mode, or putting on a playlist that you only use when writing.

For me, I light incense and ring a bell, then ask my muses to help me. When I take a break, I'll light a new incense stick (it's Japanese incense so very light scent) and ring the bell again.

That's about it, though I may write another post with more tips. I hope these are helpful to you, even if you don't like them. Sit on them, think about it, and give it a try. You might find yourself spending more time writing and less time just thinking about writing.

I've created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

The posts I write can sometimes take me hours - they're always intricate, always thoughtful. This one took me about 1 hour to write.

I do this as a labor of love for the writing community, sharing what I have learned from almost 15 years of creative writing.

However, if you'd like to support me, maybe you'll consider buying my book?

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

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